CHAPTER VII "AS OTHERS SEE US"

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


How people talked about me in those days! asking each other who and what I was, what I was doing, or intended doing. "Oh! Madame Novikoff," said some, "she is a Russian agent," and their significant nods and glances conveyed all sorts of terrible things. I had come to England, some thought, to lure British statesmen to betray their country into Russian hands. In short, quite a number of amiable things were said about poor, simple me, who tried so hard to say exactly the truth about what I well knew.

In later years, Sir Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett at a public meeting paid a tribute to my work which I quote, not from vanity, but as an unexpected exaggeration. Sir Ellis said, "As for Madame Novikoff, it is simply impossible to estimate the services she has rendered her country. Not all the diplomatic corps of the Empire and all the Grand Dukes have done as much for Russia as that lady, {100} who since 1877 has directed the Russian campaign in England with consummate ability. She has been worth more to Russia than an army of 100,000 men. Nothing that the Tsar could bestow upon her could adequately repay her peerless services."

But there was the other side of the picture. The London correspondent of a provincial paper described me as "one of the most masculine and accomplished women of her time—she has come to be looked upon as the Czar's agent, as a sort of unofficial Ambassador." Imagine my being described as "masculine," a thing I execrate in women. I became too accustomed to the term "unofficial ambassador" to take any notice of it, but "masculine!" Ugh!

Then, said another paper, "Think of the women who have achieved a reputation in diplomacy—such women as Madame de Novikoff, Princess Lise Troubetskoi, Madame Nubar Pasha, Princess Metternich, and the late Princess Leopold Croy. What other characteristic is common to them all? Only this, that one and all they have been inveterate consumers of cigarettes, and each has availed herself with signal advantage of the opportunity afforded by toying with a fragrant papiletto to reflect before speaking, which women, as a rule, are said not always to do."

ST. OLGA'S SCHOOL FOR GIRL TEACHERS AT NOVO-ALEXANDROFKA
ST. OLGA'S SCHOOL FOR GIRL TEACHERS AT NOVO-ALEXANDROFKA

Alas for the common characteristic! I have never smoked in my life. But then I may be one of the women who do not "reflect before speaking." Smoking is not so common a habit of Russian ladies as is generally supposed. Indeed, Petrograd society was a little surprised some years ago when a British Ambassadress, with kind intent, arranged at the {101} Embassy a smoking-room for ladies. Even amongst men, smoking was not universal. My husband was not a smoker, nor was either of my two brothers. Several Russian gentlemen whom I know in London do not smoke.

On another occasion the Press informed me that I had selected America as my future home. "Her mission," one paper grandly announced, "on behalf of Russia has not of course been very popular.... What she has to do for Russia in America the Yankees will doubtless find out; at any rate she is backed by the Russian fleet, which will soon be, if it is not already, in American waters." I need not say that this was pure imagination. The idea of a "secret agent" being "backed" by a fleet is, I think, new in international methods.

I detest the word "mission" as applied to my work, which was as much in the interests of England as of Russia, as can easily be seen to-day. Where would Europe be now if it were not for the Russian armies, and where would the Russian armies be but for the English Navy? A woman with a mission is as objectionable as a man with a grievance.

One provincial newspaper, in a burst of confidence, assured its readers that Madame Novikoff "does not suggest the political agitator, she is very fond of music, and some distinguished artist is generally to be found at her piano." I have often wondered what "a political agitator" would appear like to the writer of this paragraph, and why should he not be musical?

Was anything ever so bewildering? When I look over my press-cutting books I cannot do so {102} without a smile. Now it is all so amusing; but then it had in it an element of tragedy, for my work was nearer to my heart than anything else. The Pall Mall Gazette, for instance, remarked that "Mr. Gladstone praises Madame Novikoff for her remarkable ability in handling political controversy. Some of us think it would be more correct to do homage to her remarkable ability in handling political men." This was a tribute to me, in a way, at poor Mr. Gladstone's expense.

Another industrious young man wrote in 1889, apropos my return to London, that my "Thursdays" would be "again the rendezvous of the light, learning, and wit of London society. At least, this is how the friends of the Russian lady describe her parties. But her detractors and enemies say they are merely a clever trap for attracting people from whom she may obtain information to dispatch to Russia. A curious thing is that Baron and Baroness de Staal, the Russian Ambassador and his wife, are often to be seen there, so that the legitimate and the illegitimate purveyors of news to Russia meet on common ground."

It is quite easy to see which view of my poor "Thursdays" was taken by the writer of the above.

Neither Baron nor Baroness de Staal were ever afraid to show me publicly their sympathy and support. Monsieur de Staal even went so far as to tell an English Cabinet Minister, who wished to verify one of my statements, that if Madame Novikoff said so, it was probably true, for she was often better informed than he of what the Russian Government was thinking of doing. "Indeed," said the old {103} Ambassador, "they never tell me anything until they have definitely decided on doing it."

I heard this from Mr. Stead, who had just returned from the Foreign Office, and looked somewhat bewildered by the compliment paid to me. We were both amused, since few ambassadors make such admissions.

Not less welcome than the frank admission of the Russian Ambassador was the approval of my efforts by our Minister for Foreign Affairs himself, who, unlike Count Shouvaloff, about whom I still have a word to say, recognised the usefulness of my endeavours to foster friendly feelings between Russia and England.

It was with profound satisfaction indeed that I received the following letter from Prince Lobanoff-Rostovsky:


ST. PETERSBURG,
21 Feb./14 March, 1896.

MADAME,

I admire your courageous perseverance in dealing with messieurs les Anglais, and I am very grateful for the assistance that you render us. Accept my profound respects,

LOBANOFF.


It is such kindnesses which, in supporting and encouraging my efforts, have bribed me hitherto, and shall not fail to bribe me in the future.

Sometimes my own people showed themselves anything but understanding and sympathetic. As my thoughts wander through the pages of memory, many shadows from the past arise before me, and I {104} think of how much good, and also how much harm, can be done by a man in a great public position. There are indeed many things in life that one must try to forget and forgive.

I confess that, unfortunately, my ardent aspirations did not, in every case, meet with sympathy, even amongst my own relatives.

I fully appreciated, for instance, the talents and honourable qualities of my brother-in-law, E. Novikoff, and much admired his excellent and exhaustive work on John Huss, the Czech reformer and writer, who preceded Luther by a whole century. This book, by the way, is now unfortunately out of print. But while I always remained a staunch Slavophil, E. Novikoff, after his appointment as Ambassador to Vienna, was obliged in his official capacity to obey the orders of the Foreign Office, and in so doing yielded so far to Austrian views as to become indifferent, not to say hostile, to the Slavonic cause. To me, personally, he invariably showed friendship, and invited me for a whole year to the Russian Embassy at Vienna, a visit which I greatly enjoyed. But I always avoided all reference to the subjects that henceforth divided us.

This was also the case in my relations with Count Shouvaloff, at one time our Russian Ambassador in London, who instead of helping me, constantly did me harm. He was polite and ceremonious in paying me visits, but he hated my work. I am surprised indeed that he did not succeed in paralysing my efforts altogether. It is useful sometimes to be tough and obstinate!

In the light of this fact there was something {105} almost comical in the comment of one journal which said:

"Madame Novikoff is a Russian agent in close relations with Count Shouvaloff, and she is the sister of General Kiréeff and sister-in-law of the Russian Ambassador at Vienna. This is the person with whom our ex-premier was admittedly in close alliance, public and private, during the recent atrocity agitation. But when the climax of the pro-Russian agitation was reached, and its managers believed the overthrow of Lord Beaconsfield to be imminent, Mr. Gladstone, at the close of the St. James's Hall 'Conference,' left his seat, went up to Madame Novikoff, offered her his arm, and led her triumphantly through the bewildered crowd, in order to give them an earnest of the anti-Turkish alliance at last concluded between England and Russia, and thereby publicly acknowledged that his relations with that lady belong to the province of public life, and ought to be treated as matters of public concern. That also, we have no doubt, will be the opinion of the country when the nature of these relations has been more explicitly revealed."

There was one man who occupied a powerful position in Russia and, as I have said, was well known in the world, and who boasted that though he never signed the Paris Treaty, he did all in his power to abolish the consequences of that detestable document. I mean the Chancellor of Russia, the Prince Gortschakoff.

My last interview with him was not altogether pleasant: with one hand he gave "his praise," with the other "his blame." (His right hand really did {106} not know what his left was doing!) But here are a few facts, now known in Russia, but unknown in England.

I think I have said that for several years I carefully concealed my literary identity. In Russia it was known to Katkoff, the editor of the Moscow Gazette, in England chiefly to Stead, my English editor, and to Mr. Gladstone, who was my energetic political confidant. For that purpose I used my maiden initials "O.K." (Olga Kiréeff).

On my return home from England I received a note from the Chancellor asking me to call on him "as he was too ill to make calls."

By the by, I must say that in Russia it is quite customary, even for a very young woman, to call on business, either at a Cabinet Minister's Office or on an Ambassador at his Embassy.

In both cases the Office and the Embassy take the place of the absent wives, and such visits are fully understood. Still, people make some jokes about wives being thus replaced. But let me return to my unpleasant interview. The Prince received me, as usual, very cordially, flattering and complimenting me, but after which he said: "But, dear Madame Novikoff, I must insist upon one point and draw your serious attention to something very important. You really must not mention the word 'Slav.' Europe hates that word, and Russia must ignore it."

"But Russians are Slavs, every schoolboy must know that," I exclaimed.

"Of course, of course," admitted the old Chancellor, "but Europe hates that word. It is the red rag thrown to an infuriated bull," etc. etc.

{107}

If I indulged in fainting fits I really think that such friendly advice would have made me sink to the floor, but that is not in my line. Still, I protested.

"But, Prince," said I, "you forget that my brother died for the Slavs, that I, in memory of that death, am working for that Cause, that Mr. Gladstone, in his review of my book, Russia and England, distinctly recommended every Englishman to read it, and that he himself wrote a pamphlet on the Bulgarian horrors. Your advice to a Russian, who naturally is a Slav, means—give up your nationality, forget it. No, that I cannot do, for that would be suicide."

I think my vehement indignation amused the old Chancellor, and he said: "Well, well, but do you know that people actually think that you are my agent?"

"It only shows," I said, "how important people's opinions sometimes are. Let them know that I am my own agent and nobody else's." He smiled, I smiled, and we parted—never to meet again.

Of course, we must remember that officials come and go and have to execute orders, which sometimes vary and contradict each other. But you can obstinately, perseveringly, year after year and day after day—work, in accordance with your patriotic duty, only when you are guided by your own deep, independent conviction and ideal!

Why did the Emperor Nicholas save Austria in 1849; alienating himself from the brave Hungarian people, who during a whole century heroically fought to liberate themselves from Austrian despotism?

{108}

There is a story about another of our diplomatists, Baron Brunow, which although it has been told before, is so characteristic of Brunow that it will, I think, bear re-telling.

On arriving in London for the first time I was pleased to receive an invitation to the Russian Embassy, because Baron Brunow knew my mother personally, and also because I had heard the following anecdote about him which had greatly amused me: Queen Victoria, deeply grieved by the death of the Duke of Wellington, had expressed her wish that the funeral of the "Iron Duke," as he was called, should be as splendid as possible. The whole of the Corps Diplomatique was requested to attend the ceremony. All the diplomatists unhesitatingly accepted the royal invitation—with one exception, that of the French Ambassador. The latter, in a state of great perplexity and indecision, hurried to the Doyen of "the diplomatic" world, Baron Brunow.

"I am in a very disagreeable position," he said, "I am indeed quite at a loss what to do. How shall I escape from my dilemma? Of course, one does not like to disobey Her Majesty's wishes—almost her orders; but one must nevertheless consider before all else one's duty to one's country, one's national dignity!"

Unlike a Frenchman, the visitor seemed particularly agitated and nervous.

"But what is the matter?" exclaimed the Baron. "I have received no communication about your difficulty. None of my secretaries has informed me of anything unusual. What is the matter?" repeated the old Baron somewhat impatiently.

{109}

"Don't you understand?" exclaimed the other. "The Queen desires every diplomatist to attend Wellington's funeral. From her point of view she is quite right. But I, as a Frenchman, can never forget the terrible harm done by the Duke to the country I represent."

"Oh!" exclaimed the Russian in smiling surprise. "You dislike the idea of attending the State funeral? I confess that I also hardly like the idea of the fatigue it involves. But then, you are much younger and stronger than I. Of course, if you were asked to attend Wellington's resurrection, perhaps I should say 'don't go'—but his funeral, which represents the end of all possible mischief to your country, I can only say, 'Go and attend it by all means with great satisfaction!'"

I have never been able to find out from the various books I have consulted relating to those times, whether or not the Frenchman followed Brunow's advice!

Although I have never hesitated to speak my mind, English people—individually that is—have always seemed to understand me, and my sincerity has never been allowed either to interfere with my personal friendships, or hinder societies and committees paying the compliment of asking me to their gatherings. In England they love a fighter, provided he fight fair, and I think I have always done that. Imagine Germany, for instance, paying tributes to the commander of an English _Emden_, which had [done enormous damage to her shipping! Yet in England almost as much praise was bestowed upon this German naval officer as in the Fatherland. {110} Why was this? Because he had played the game!

I have received many and unexpected invitations to be present at public dinners and banquets. When I received a "card" from the Committee of the Shakespeare Society for their banquet, I could not help wondering how anyone could find something new to say on a subject so well-worn during the last 300 years! Imagine, then, my astonishment, my horror, when I found on the programme my own name with the announcement that I was responding to the toast addressed to foreign guests. My first impulse was to fly; but such cowardice not being in my nature, I took my courage in my hands, and at the given moment pronounced these few words, as if it were quite a natural thing for me to make speeches:

"Kind audience,--I am flattered by your amiable invitation, to which, as a foreigner, I have hardly any right. But let me tell you that I have a little friend who renders me invaluable services. I mean my little watch bracelet, that makes me think of time and space. I shall not trouble you for more than five or six minutes; for though I feel myself to be a veritable Demosthenes, I resemble him only as he was before his famous pebble cure! You know that at the time he hesitated, stammered, and stuttered. Therefore, five minutes of eloquence on these conditions is all I dare inflict on your patience.

"I will begin by saying that one of the best translations of your great writer was made by the Grand Duke Constantine, who died a few months ago. This charming Grand Duke had, in addition, {111} a considerable histrionic talent, and his 'Hamlet' represented by himself at the Palace of Their Majesties in Petrograd, achieved an immense success.

"But there is still something else that I shall take the liberty to say about Shakespeare. In our day there is much talk of enemies, alliances, friendly treaties, etc. Nothing can be more apropos at this moment. But Shakespeare has done something that surpasses all ententes, alliances, and treaties between countries large and small. Shakespeare has become the eternal link by which all parts of the civilised, thinking, reading world are indissolubly united. This is a unique part created by an Englishman.

"As a last word. I can only say, ladies and gentlemen, you have every reason to be proud of this acknowledged fact."

Upon this I bowed and resumed my place. My little speech was received most kindly. There could not have been a better reward for my laconism.