Real Russians

Front matter

Frontispiece,

Owing to the Author's absence from England while the book was passing through the press the following errors have crept in : —

Page 86 — Read " The Sanctuary Gates of the St. Isaac's Cathedral."

Introduction

Chapter P*°^

I. How IT CAME ABOUT THAT I WENT TO

Russia i

II. Conflicting Impulses 6

III. Home Again 9

IV. Disappointed Heroes i3

V. Waiting Women . . • • . . 20

VI. Evensong in the Railway Station

OF Smolensk 25

VII. Not Expected 32

VIII. Some Contented Prisoners of War 35

IX. Heavy Hearts 38

X. The Worst of Russian Roads . . 39 XI. A Visit to the Troitsa-Sergei

Lavra 42

XII. A Link 57

XIII. Speed and Success 58

XIV, Interviews WITH Cabinet Ministers. . 62 XV. An Interesting Hour . . . . 69

VIU.

CONTENTS.

Chapter

XVI. Something, but not Everything

HAD BEEN DONE

XVII. A Conscientious Objector..

XVIII. In German Prison Camps . .

XIX. The St. Isaac's Cathedral of

Petrograd . .

XX. Petitioners All

XXI. Two Generals

XXII. Dejected Recruits

XXIII. A Magnificent Institution

XXIV. A Minister apparently both able

and willing to help

XXV. Reservists in the Hermitage

XXVI. Amongst Russian Working People ON A Sunday

XXVII. Prohibition

XXVIII. The Festival of the St. George's

Cavaliers

XXIX. True Humanity

XXX. The Common Occurrence of a Change of Ministers

XXXI. Russian Birches

XXXII. Some Travelling Experiences . .

XXXIII. Delight to the Eyes

XXXIV. Kiev

XXXV. In Kiev and Moghilev

XXXVI. At Tsarskoe Selo

XXXVII. A Joyful Surprise . .

Page

72 76 80

88 92

94 96

105 109

III 116

118 121

123 126 129

138 138 140 146 150

CONTENTS.

IX.

Chapter

Page

XXXVIII.

Verified Facts

XXXIX.

A Grand Old Man

XL.

The Birds had Flown

XLI.

Some Military Hospitals— good.

BAD, and indifferent

XLII.

Merely a Cossack . .

XLIII.

In A Petrograd Tram

XLIV.

Impressions of Russian Soldiers

XLV.

XLVI.

IZVOSHTCHIK and FaRE

XLVII.

The Alexander Nevski Lavra . .

XLVIII.

Books and Pictures

XLIX.

Contented Heroes . .

L.

Funeral Processions

LI.

LII.

Grumblers

LIII.

The Kazan Cathedral in Petro-

grad

LIV.

A Farewell Visit

LV.

A Telephonic Conversation

LVI.

An Interrupted Journey . .

LVII.

A Centre of Mercy

LVIII.

An Unavoidable Topic of Conversa-

tion

LIX.

Cold Water

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

The Political Prisoner . . . . Frontispiece

Pine Forest . .

A Country Road

The Cobble Pavement of Moscow

St. Sergei Radonejski

The Siege of the Troitsa Lavra by the Poles in 1608

The Sanctuary of St. Isaac's Cathedral

Cathedral of St. Isaac in Petrograd

Central Depot of the Red Cross Interior in Petrograd

The Hermitage in Petrograd

Birches

Illuminated Text . .

War Loan Posters

H.I.H. Prince Alexander Petrovitch of Oldenburg

One of the Wards of the Anglo-Russian Hospital in the Palace of the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovitch, in Petrograd . .

Wounded Soldiers Travelling . .

Alexander Nevski

The Kazan Cathedral in Petrograd . .

Interior, Ikon of the Mother of God

" Not Expected " — The Exile's Return

40 40 42

50 86 86

T r-O

168 178 194 216 216 238

Foreword

I HAVE been requested to write a few words as an Introduction to the book which Mrs. Sonia Howe is presenting to the public. I gladly comply with the request, as I am sure that a perusal of the book will afford both pleasure and instruction to the reader. The main object of the journey of Mrs. Howe to Russia was to endeavour to obtain an amnesty for political exiles, and she also had an opportunity offered to her of befriending Russian prisoners of war who had escaped from German captivity. Her efforts in the above directions were satisfactorily successful, and she displayed both energy and tact in attaining her ends. The sketches which she gives of the persons with whom she came in contact, and of the various scenes and incidents which impressed her on her travels, are vivid and realistic, and are portrayed with considerable descriptive charm and force. I confidently recommend the book to the British public.

Carnock.

May iSth, 1917.

INTRODUCTION.

When in May, 1916, Count Dmitry Olsoufiev, one of the delegates of the Imperial Council, then on a visit to London, invited me to come to Russia in order to plead privately with those in authority for a political amnesty, no one could have guessed that this act of justice would be performed — in less than a year — by an altogether new Government.

The amnesty for which I went to plead has come about in so wonderful and unexpected a way that, all lovers and friends of Russia can only praise God for the answer to their prayers. Surely no effort for righteousness, however insignificant, is in vain, and if my private mission resulted in nothing more than the liberation of but 120 administrative exiles,* and incidentally in bringing about a happier state for the soldiers who had escaped from German captivity, even so it was not useless, and I feel grateful to the generous-hearted man as whose guest I went to Russia. All honour to him !

♦People sent into exile without trial, under suspicion of f>olitical offences or for holding views contrary to the regime in power.

XIV INTRODUCTION.

Six months have passed since the events narrated in this book were written down as merely personal notes, without any idea of publication, as the record of actualities witnessed at a critical moment in the history of Russia.

Since the revolution has produced the tremendous changes which are now before the eyes of tbe world, I have been asked by a great many people whether last summer I had had any inkling of the coming Revolution ? Yes ! for the mutterings of the storm had begun to make themselves heard, and this makes me think that the story of my personal experiences on a journey rather unique for a woman, would prove of interest to the general reader, and might also enable him to realise that many of the disorders now become apparent were even then actually existing. This, I hope, will call forth even greater and more intelligent sympathy for the Russian people from their Allies. It is for this reason alone that publicity has been given to certain of the following chapters.

Now that the old order of things has passed away, I am at liberty to publish some of the interviews with Cabinet Ministers, and also the experiences with Russian soldiers who had escaped from captivity in Germany, as throwing interesting sidelights on men and matters political. I do so with the knowledge of Sir George Buchanan and with the approval of Count Olsoufiev.

INTRODUCTION. xv.

If certain representatives of the old regime come out rather better than one generally expected of reactionaries— well, then let the Anglo-vSaxon love of fair play come in, for is not one of its characteristics to give every man his due, even though he be opponent or enemy ?

In addition to the personal notes, I wrote down at the request of friends my impressions of the people, and of prevailing conditions of everyday life, as of interest to a wider circle. Lying under a beautiful English chestnut tree, I therefore sent my thoughts back to Russia, and while I lived once again through things seen and heard in my native country, my pen transferred these conversations and experiences to paper. Thus the following chapters are not the production of a journalist, nor have they been written with an eye to effect, but are merely snapshots showing things as they are — without pre-arranged staging or artificial posing.

My only regret is that the style of narrative brings me so frequently on the scene.

St. Luke's Vicarage, Finchley, N. 5^/f May, 1917.

REAL RUSSIANS.

Chapter I

How IT CAME ABOUT THAT I WENT TO RUSSIA.

We were talking about the Anglo-Russian Alliance, and I told Count Dmitry Olsoufiev, who had just arrived from Russia, that, when lecturing, I had often come across a strong feeling against this alliance on account of the continuance of the exile system.

" Does the question of political exile interest you ? " the Count asked me with surprise.

" Very much so," I replied, and going up to my mantelpiece, I took down the model of an old Russian pilgrim., which I handed to him with the remark : " This little figure, made out of prison bread, was sent by a prisoner as a token of gratitude to those who were helping the political exiles. If only the Russian Government would proclaim an amnesty ! " I exclaimed.

" That is my wish also," was his fervent retort, " and I have already spoken about it to various Ministers, but they say it could only be granted after some great victory."

A

As my guest was so evidently interested in the question, I told him of the small " Committee for the Relief of Administrative Exiles in Northern Russia and Siberia," of which I was Honorary Secretary, and that, thanks to the generosity of British lovers of Russia, we had been able to send out over £6,000 during the last ten years to assist some, at least, of the starving exiles.

Half an hour later, as we were driving along in a taxi, the Count suddenly turned to me : " Will you come with me to Petrograd, and speak to the Premier, Mr. Stuermer, just as you have spoken to me ? " he said.

" Yes, I will," I replied without hesitation.

'' Thank you," he said simply. " I will arrange for you to see all the Ministers, and if possible, the Empress Dowager."

On producing a letter of invitation from the Count, written specially for the Passport Bureau, a passport was at once promised to me : —

Claridge's Hotel,

Brook Street, W.

Le 13 Mai, 1916.

Chere Mrs. Howe,

HOW IT CAME THAT I WENT TO RUSSIA. 3

CoMTE Dmitry Olsoufiev.

{Membre du Conseil de l' Empire).

One of the officials on reading this letter, remarked to me with a smile : " You are going on a wonderful mission."

" I know it," I replied.

Before starting on my journey, at the suggestion of the Count, I sent the following letter to various repiesentative Christian men, both lay and clerical, from most of whom I received sympathetic replies.

May 16th, 1916.

Private and Confidential.

An unexpected opportunity has been offered me to plead personally and privately, the cause of the Political Exiles before the Prime Minister of Russia and Members of the Imperial Council. It lias been suggested to me by one of the latter that it would be desirable for me to bring some letters from leading Christian people with regard to the effect an amnesty would have on public opinion in Great Britain. The idea is not to present the views of merely Party politicians, as these might prejudice the cause in the eyes of the Russian Ministers, to whom, however, the general view of Russia's genuine friends among the British nation would carry great weight.

REAL RUSSIANS.

May I ask you therefore for the great favour to write to me in a few words what your feelings are in this matter ?

The amnesty depends on the will of the Tsar, on his Ministers and on the Imperial Council, and as I shall be granted the wonderful and unique opportunity of pleading for the amnesty with the responsible advisers of his Majesty, there is every reason to hope that, under the blessing of God — " in Whose hand the heart of the King is " — the longed-for act of clemency may now come about.

For the last ten years I have been in touch v/ith the Exiles, and with true-hearted British people who love Russia. In 1906 I founded the Committee for the Relief of Administrative Exiles in Siberia, a non-political organisation, and it is because of this effort that one of the members of the Imperial Council, now in England, considers me to be the right person to put the case of the Exiles, and of British opinion with regard to this matter, before the Prime Minister. He himself feels the deepest sympa.thy with the cause.

Your letter will be considered as confidential and private, as far as England is concerned. I will use it only for the Russian Ministers, and perhaps the Metropolitan.

Hoping to hear from you very soon.

Believe me.

Yours faithfully,

SONIA E. HowF, Hun. Sec. cf the Commitlce far the Relief of Administrativs Exiles in Northern Russia and Siberia-

HOW IT CAME THAT I WENT TO RUSSIA. 5

Three weeks after this unexpected invitation had been given and accepted, I started for my beloved native country with a heart full of joyful hope. The Count had been detained in Italy and France, and as I wanted to be back by a certain tinie, I travelled on in advance.

En route I made the acquaintance of some other members of the Imperial Council, who expressed great curiosity as to the object of my journey, for they knew that the Count was to take me to Russia. I merely laughed, and replied to their questions that I wanted to do my humble share in strengthening the Alliance, but as to the precise manner in which I was going to accomplish this — that they could learn from oiu* mutual friend.

How someone who did not even belong to the Press could cherish such ambitions was beyond them. I quite sympathised with them, for I by myself could never have achieved anything, of this I was fully conscious ; but at the same time I remembered that the mouse had nibbled through the mesh of the net in which the lion had been caught, and all I wanted was to be like that mouse.

In order not to compromise anyone in Russia, it had been agreed that I should abstain from \ isiting, while there, those friends who had been the intermediaries between the Committee in Great Britain and the exiles in Siberia. Therefore I had regretfully to limit myself to meeting my relatives and personal friends only, apart from those in authority whom I had come on purpose to see.

CHAPTER II. Conflicting Impulses

In the train to Haparanda from Cliristiania, there were a number of Russians from the Argentine. One of them, a line, tall young working-man, looked at me with an anguished expression, and holding up his finger, which was wrapped in a piece of rag, growled out : " Life is not worth living with a finger like this ! " " How can a strong young man like you make such a fuss ? " I said rallyingly. " Come, let me see what is the matter." It proved to be a very bad whitlow, which I hnmediately took in hand. I invited the man into my coupe, and soon the strained look in his handsome face relaxed into a relieved smile. Very gingerly he held his swollen finger in my little silver goblet containing a hot infusion of camomile, which 1 had made at one of the stations in a tin with a lid, the only vessel I could find, to keep the infusion hot.

We made friends ov'er the bad finger, and I soon found out that the chief reason for the young fellov\''s anxiety was the fact that his mother had died from a poisoned finger. He told this to everyone who spoke to him, for quite a number of fellow-passengers began to take an interest in my handsome patient. I reassured him there was no danger of death for him yet awhile.

I would not like to say how many times I found my clean bandage replaced by a green leaf which he had

CONFLICTING IMPULSES. 7

picked at some station. He declared emphatically that a leaf was much better than fomentations. There was still, however, another remedy which his soul hankered after, and which he wanted me to procure for him.

" Sestritza,"* he said, " do get me some roast onion ; if only I could put slices of hot roast onion on my finger, it would soon get well. I treated a bad finger once before this way only, and it got well very quickly."

In order to humour him, I enquired from the Steward of the dining-car whether I could order roast onion, but this delicacy was not on the bill of fare. Meanwhile the finger began to get a bit easier. According to the patient — thanks to the cooling leaf ; in my opinion — thanks to the hot camomile fomentation.

At last he got so weary of his finger that he decided to lance it. By this time a doctor had joined us, but his and my ideas of antiseptics found no support from the patient. All I could persuade him to do was to pass the blade of his knife through the flame of my spirit lamp before sticking it into his finger — a performance which he accomplished without wincing.

As the young man was feeling really ill after several sleepless nights caused by his aching finger, I asked him whether he was not perhaps able to pay the difference and pass the night in the second class, instead of sitting on the hard benches of the third class.

" Oh, yes," he said, " I can pay the difference easily ; you must help me to get out my money."

With his left hand he drew out of his breast pocket a small, untidy, brown paper parcel, which he handed to me.

*" Sister."

& REAL RUSSIANS.

" You will find here one thousand five hundred roubles (£150) ; please take from it as much as you think necessary for paying the difference."

He then told me that, although he was earning excellent wages in the Argentine, he had not been able to resist the call of duty, and was now returning to Russia to join the Army.

" Were you called up ? " I asked.

" No one fetched me," he replied proudly, " I came of my own free will. You see, I argued like this — Russia needs every man at present, therefore I ought to go home and do my share. True, I said to myself, if I stay here I might go on earning good money, but in after years I might despise myself for having failed my Fatherland — therefore, here I am. It cost me ten pounds to come from the Argentine to England, but I am well able to afford it," he added with evident satisfaction.

In the Consulate, at the frontier station, I witnessed an interesting scene. All sorts and conditions of Russians, returning from the Argentine and America, were being questioned by the Consul as to how much money they had with them. An elderly working-man, who had told me previously that he had twenty pounds in his pocket, quoted this sum also to the Consul. Others confessed to having sums varying from two to seventy pounds. All those who had more than £3 had to buy their own tickets. Imagine my surprise when I found out afterwards that my rich young patient, with his ;{i50 in his pocket, had received a free ticket.

" How did you manage it ? " I asked him.

" Very simply," he replied. " When asked how

HOME AGAIN. 9

much money I had, I said, ' none at all ' — so, of course, I got a free ticket."

" You ought to be ashamed of yourself," I said indignantly, thoroughly disgusted with his trickiness and meanness.

" Why should I pay for having to become a soldier ? " he retorted crossly. " Surely it is enough that I have come at all, considering all I could have gone on earning in the Argentine ? "

Evidently patriotism and love of money were warring with one another in the breast of this fine specimen of Russian manhood. Had he left the noble feelings of of the Russian peasant behind in the Argentine, where money plays so great a r6le ? or was it just human nature, which tempts people of all nations to get something for nothing ?

CHAPTER III. Home Again

It was joy to be once again in Russia !

I drew in deep draughts of my native air, missed for so long, and inhaled the delicious scent of the flower-bedecked meadows. My eyes feasted on the beauty of the landscape — the dark pine forests, the graceful white birch trees, the soft bronze bog-land, the golden cornfields and the creamy pink expanse of buckwheat. Even the narrow strips of land along the railway lines were a delight, covered as they were with wild flowers — pink, blue and purple.

What a relief to be once again in a country of wide expanses, where the consciousness of space involuntarily makes one breathe more freely, and calls forth such a feeling of delight that it can only be expressed by the action of opening one's arms wide. No hedges break up the fields and meadows into little squares, but, uninterrupted before the eyes, open out wide views and a far horizon.

Oh, the beauty of the white nights, when sunset and dawn almost meet, and when, even at midnight, the sky is illuminated by rich red clouds. It was indeed a home-coming — and for the few weeks I was in Russia, my life in England fell back into the furthest recesses of my consciousness and the total absence of letters fostered this forgetfulness. Once only I acted as though in England when, on a broilingly hot July day I remarked to a lady next to me in the tram : " What a hot day ! " Her curt retort, " Pray, where do you come from that this is news to you ? " made me realise that I was not in England, the "land of weather." I apologised humbly for my apparent silliness and explained the cause and reason of my so obvious remark.

The landscape satisfied my eye, the people my heart. The gracefulness of the birches delighted me as much as the fungi and mosses ; the men and women drew forth a feeling of brotherhood and sympathy. The whole nation seemed to be carried along on the crest of a big wave. There was a feeling of moral and spiritual uplift which was a new and wonderful experience. How often did I not hear the same word used

HOME AGAIN. ii

by the most different individuals. They all spoke of a great Razmaakh, a word which suggests a broad, generous vastness, something on a large scale.

Everything that happened was of great Razmaakh — good and evil alike ; millions of soldiers, hundreds of thousands of wounded ; great devotion and equally great rascality ; wonderful efficiency in provisioning the huge Army by the All-Russian Union of Zemstvos — absolute disorganisation as to the food supply of the cities under the control of the official administration ; abundance of corn and potatoes in the country — barely enough in the towns ; miles of stacked wood along railway lines and forests — but a fuel famine in the capitals. Everywhere masses of soldiers in shirts of " protective " or drab colour, and hosts of officials — military and civil — in smart uniforms, their breasts bedecked with orders and badges of all kinds ; great victories — thousands of prisoners taken ; tremendous losses of men in the bloody battlefield ; on every railway line hospital trains full of wounded heroes ; everywhere troop trains filled with patriotic and courageous men going into battle with a smile and a song ; churches filled with women praying for their dear ones ; large armies of women nursing the sick and feeding the destitute ; a war front stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea.

As I stood in front of the gigantic war map in the " Peoples House " in Petrograd, and observed the long Russian line cutting right down from sea to sea, and then looked at the tiny line indicating the British front in France, I realised why some Russians wonder what England is doing. In the Russian line there is unmistakably " Razmaakh," and it is difficult for the uneducated onlooker to realise all that little British line portends. I told this to an English Colonel whom I met in Petrograd. He declared, and quite rightly, that in fairness to England the line on that map, and indeed on every map, should be carried on right into the Channel, through the North Sea, past the North Cape on to Archangel ; for is it not the British Fleet which keeps open the communication between that Russian port and the munition factories of England and America ?

Then the people — the dear, lovable, simple-hearted, kindly mannered people ! How like old times it was to be addressed again by the homely " thou " instead of by the stiff " you," and to be talked to by the old servant in the way only Russian, and perhaps Irish, servants of bygone days used to do. We used to belong to them, and to this dear old woman I was still someone to be petted and scolded as thougli I were a child.

Watching the soldiers, talking to the people, moving amongst the crowds, travelling in trains with men and women of all kinds and classes, gave me a consciousness of being carried along on a great wave. I found myself in a new, fresh atmosphere — there was greater freedom of speech, a wider outlook and higher hopes. Everybody was expecting great things after the war — Reforms, Progress, Happiness.

The millions of soldiers — peasants from all parts of the Empire — were learning new truths. They were having their eyes opened ; comparisons were being drawn, the mental horizon was becoming enlarged. When the war is over, they will return to their distant homes and tell those who stayed behind what they have

DISAPPOINTED HEROES. 13

seen and learned. One thing the whole nation has learned, and that is to do without vodka. It has become a sober nation — sober and prosperous. The greatest wonder — the most beautiful first-fruits of the blessing which will follow on the war — is this abolition of vodka. This alone has given to the people a Razmaakh.*

On the crest of the wave of patriotism and devotion, sobriety and enthusiasm, of life-hallowing sorrow and soul-racking suffering, a new Russia is being carried along, and so great is the power of this wave that it will sweep away all the old rotten breakwaters.

It was good to be in Russia, and not merely to read the Russian newspapers in England, for they are all full of grievances. Personal contact with the people alone enables one to get a true impression of conditions. The loving though critical eye beholds both light and shade, and the sympathetic and open ear hears what is sweet and tender, as well as what is bitter and hard.

CHAPTER IV. DiSAProiNTED Heroes

" Two men have come to see you. They say they are soldiers who have escaped from captivity in Germany ; that you know all about them and that they want to speak to you urgently."

* That the Revolution was brought about with so little bloodshed, and that order was so soon restored, was entirely due to the fact that alcohol was unobtainable.

The old servant, who had been in my mother's service ever since I was a child, and who was now the servant of my cousin and host, looked at me with questioning eyes.

She shook her head and said : " Now what is this you have taken upon yourself ? "

" Grousha," I replied, " you dear old soul, I am delighted to see these men — they are heroes. I wonder, though, what they want of me ? "

A young corporal and a sergeant were awaiting me in the kitchen, and after a warm greeting I invited them into the drawing-room.

" What has happened ? " I asked, utterly taken aback by their serious dejected looks.

Furtively looking around to see whether he could be overheard — evidently a habit acquired in captivity — the tall corporal said to me lugubriously :

" Baryinia,* we have come to share impressions with you ! "

" Brothers, what is the matter ? " I said, shocked by the expression of tragedy on the men's faces. All the life had gone out of their eyes ; utterly brokenhearted they stood before me. I asked them to sit down.

" Tell me all about it ; why are you so cast down ? "

" Will you come with us and see the place we are lodged in ? " the Corporal asked in low, dull tones, " then you will understand everything. Some of our comrades have already been two months in this Depot, others one month, and nobody seems to take any interest in them. All that we are provided with * " Jvitdy " — mistresH.

DISAPPOINTED HEROES. 15

are bare boards — not even a blanket or a pillow, and the dirt of these Barracks is indescribable ! "

My heart ached with pity and my indignation could only be equalled by the soldiers' disappointment.

" Will you come with us now ? " they said, when they had finished their tale.

" But are women allowed to visit the Barracks ? " I asked.

" It is not only allowed, but quite the usual thing," replied the soldier ; "for recruits are collected there and wives and sweethearts are in and out all day long and no one asks any questions."