GIFT OF 
 JEROME B. LANDFIEJLD 
 
WHEN I WAS A BOY IN 
 RUSSIA 
 
CHILDREN OF OTHER LANDS BOOKS 
 
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 Illustrations and Cover Designs i2mo Cloth 
 Price of each Volume, net, 75 cts. 
 
 There are many books about the children of other 
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 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN CHINA 
 By Yan Phou Lee 
 
 WHEN I WAS A GIRL IN ITALY 
 By Marietta Ambrosi 
 
 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN JAPAN 
 By Sakae Shioya 
 
 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN GREECE 
 By George Demetrios 
 
 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN PALESTINE 
 By Mousa J. Kaleel 
 
 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN BELGIUM 
 By Robert Jonckheere 
 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 
 BOSTON 
 
VLADIMIR DK BOGORY MOKRIEVITCH. 
 
WHEN I WAS A BOY 
 IN RUSSIA 
 
 BY 
 
 VLADIMIR DE BOGORY MOKRIEVITCH 
 
 ILL US TRA TED FR OM PHO TO GRAPHS 
 
 BOSTON 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 
 
*k 
 
 '^'O;^ Published, March, 1916 
 
 Copyright, 1916, 
 BY LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD Co. 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 When I Was a Boy in Russia 
 
 
 
 press 
 
 BERWICK & SMITH CO. 
 
 NORWOOD, MASS. 
 
 U. s. A. 
 
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE 
 
 THROUGH the kind offices of the 
 author's talented daughter, Natalie De 
 Bogory, of New York, we are able to 
 acquaint American children with child- 
 life in Russia, and at the same time show 
 the spirit of this mighty empire by 
 means of the story of Vladimir De 
 Bogory Mokrievitch as told by himself. 
 
 The life of this noted man, who gave 
 up the privileges of noble birth in order 
 to serve his fellow men, is well calculated 
 to stir to enthusiasm the admiration of 
 American youth. 
 
 The author's life in America, as well 
 as his broad interest in freedom every- 
 where, renders him particularly well 
 fitted to tell us of the tyranny of Russian 
 schools in the middle of the last century, 
 the freeing of the serfs, the uprising for 
 5 
 
6 PUBLISHEBS* PEEFAGE 
 
 liberty among the university students, 
 and finally of Siberia, in order that we 
 may see how other nations than ours 
 have struggled up the bitter path to 
 liberty. 
 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD Co. 
 Boston, February 22, 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE BATTLES OF THE CHERRY 
 
 ORCHARD . . . .11 
 
 II. FAIRIED WINTER IN THE UKRAINE . 29 
 
 III. THE WITCH-EVE OF ST. JOHN . 47 
 
 IV. THE DAYS OF THE SCHOOL TYRANT 65 
 V. SETTING THE SLAVES FREE . . 84 
 
 VI. CHOOSING A CAREER ... 98 
 
 VII. THE THUNDERBOLT OF TERRORISM . 118 
 
 VIII. MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA . .151 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Vladimir De Bogory Mokrievitch . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 Some Russian Children . . . 14 
 
 Troika 34 
 
 Freight Sledge 34 
 
 Old Russian Moujik, or Peasant ... 44 
 
 Batiushka 52 
 
 " Holy Russia' 1 64 
 
 A Peasant Village 80 
 
 Boys will be Boys 88 
 
 General View of Tolstoi's Home . . . 102 
 
 Curfew in a Russian Village near the City of Kiev 1 28 
 
 Polu-Etape 156 
 
 Krasnoyarsk Prison 156 
 
 Kergez Children at Play . . . .166 
 
 9 
 
WHEN I WAS A BOY 
 IN RUSSIA 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE BATTLES OF THE CHERRY ORCHARD 
 
 I HAD more play, when I was a little 
 boy in Russia, than most American boys 
 have, and my play was altogether differ- 
 ent. I didn't go to school until I was 
 ten years old, and until that day of won- 
 der the first day at school I studied at 
 home and played all over our estates. 
 
 My father was a Colonel of Hussars in 
 one of the Tsar's regiments, and he was 
 so fond of horses that even after he had 
 retired from active duty in the army, 
 our stables were never empty of the fleet 
 Arabian steeds he loved so well. 
 11 
 
12 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " I can't imagine home without horses," 
 he said one day to Mother, when she sug- 
 gested that he reduce their numbers, and 
 his stern face, with its long, flowing 
 beard, softened as he thought of his 
 stable favorites. 
 
 Father was a noble, of course, for in 
 that time no one could be an officer in 
 the Russian army unless he belonged to 
 the nobility. He also came of warrior 
 stock, and as far back as Russian records 
 go (and they are very old) there was 
 always one of my ancestors an officer in 
 the army. As I remember Father, he was 
 already grey ; he had a stern face, with 
 strong lines on each side of the mouth ; 
 his soft white hair was long and his 
 flowing white beard reached halfway 
 down to his waist. In public he wore a 
 gorgeous uniform consisting of a brilliant 
 blue tunic, so heavily braided with gold 
 across the chest that it shone like a 
 cuirass, red riding-breeches and black, 
 Russian leather boots, reaching just be- 
 
BATTLES OF THE OEGHAED 13 
 
 low his knee. In the house Father wore 
 civilian dress, but both when he went 
 out and when people came to see him, he 
 always wore the dashing Hussar uniform. 
 He never smiled or laughed, and my 
 daughter is always telling me that I, too, 
 seldom smile and never laugh. 
 
 " Pahpa," I said one day, climbing on 
 his knees, " if I tickle you, won't you 
 laugh ? " whereupon I tickled him, and 
 his brown eyes lit up with humorous 
 twinkles and sparks almost flew from 
 them. But his mouth remained stern 
 and set, although, like all Little Rus- 
 sians, he loved fun and jokes. 
 
 There were five of us children. Piotr 
 was the eldest ; then Ivan, than whom I, 
 Vladimir, was two years younger ; my 
 sister Aniuta ; and another sister, who 
 was still younger. In the evenings 
 Father often told us stories of the Rus- 
 sian wars, in which the nobles of Lit- 
 tle Russia and of the Cossack country 
 near by had always participated. I often 
 
14 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 heard the tales of the cavalry charges of 
 the Hussars and of the Cossacks. We 
 boys were so familiar with the Crimean 
 War that we often enacted in our play the 
 campaigns Father had described so graph- 
 ically, and he taught us that to be men 
 we had to be brave and stoical. 
 
 As I remember Father, he was actively 
 engaged in the management of the estate, 
 which, though it would not have been 
 considered a large one then, stretched 
 over several coombes or small hills of the 
 undulating country of the Podol govern- 
 ment. 
 
 In Russia the word " government " cor- 
 responds to the American word " state " ; 
 the Podol government being about the 
 size of Illinois. We had serfs on our es- 
 tates, so it was necessary to keep them all 
 employed, and although they were given 
 their freedom when I was still at school, 
 I can well remember the numerous fam- 
 ilies of serfs living and working on our 
 land. 
 

 
BATTLES OF THE OEGHAED 15 
 
 My mother also was a noblewoman, and 
 like all women of high rank she had 
 great responsibilities and took her duties 
 as mistress of an estate very seriously. It 
 was for her to superintend all the work 
 of the women serfs : the weaving of the 
 cloth of which our clothing was sewn, 
 the growing of the flax and the preparing 
 of the linen fibres, for all our linen also 
 was made on the estate. 
 
 I remember very well that, according to 
 custom, although Mother had dozens of 
 domestic slaves, the making of jam was 
 never left to them, but was the special 
 concern of the lady of the house. Mother 
 was very generous and hospitable, and, 
 consequently, the amount of jam and 
 preserves that was made in the huge home 
 kitchen was enormous. I always took 
 care to know when jam was being made, 
 and, together with Ivan and Piotr, never 
 failed to get my share of the penka or 
 sweet skimmings. 
 
 " Volodia," my mother used to say re- 
 
16 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 provingly, using the diminutive for my 
 name, " you'll turn into sugar if you eat 
 so much ! " Even this threat did not 
 frighten me away, and I am still just as 
 fond of sweet things, although it is half a 
 century since that time. 
 
 The Podol government was famous for 
 the embroidery which was done first by 
 the serfs, and now by the peasants. It 
 was a part of Mother's duties to superin- 
 tend the embroidering of both clothing 
 and household linens, which were richly 
 decorated, usually with black and red or 
 blue embroidery. Nothing we had was 
 machine-made. 
 
 In addition to this constant urgency of 
 household duties, Mother entertained 
 largely, and in the Russia of that time 
 hospitality implied the invitation of 
 twenty or thirty persons at a time, most 
 of whom stayed for two or three days, 
 sometimes for weeks, and all of whom 
 generally remained over night. During 
 the shooting season our neighbors came 
 
BATTLES OF THE ORCHARD 17 
 
 to shoot over our preserves, and Father 
 would visit other estates. Hospitality 
 was profuse all over the country, for the 
 estates of the nobles were large and far 
 apart and they had no one but themselves 
 with whom to associate. 
 
 In those days that was sixty years ago 
 the houses of the nobles carried out the 
 patriarchal life of early Russia. Our 
 house, like most of them, was only one 
 story high, but it covered a large area, 
 spreading itself out in the shape of a 
 hook, containing many rooms, how 
 many I do not remember. The rooms 
 were large, with stained floors, and they 
 were heated by Russian stoves which were 
 built into the house, and in which we 
 burned the wood cut from the forests on 
 the estate. Although the Podol govern- 
 ment is in Little Russia, or toward the 
 southwest corner of the great Russian em- 
 pire, in winter it was so cold that double 
 windows were put in, and the stoves never 
 went out. The roofs were low and 
 
18 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 thatched, for, in those days, the modern 
 use of tiles and slates was unknown. 
 
 The house was surrounded by chestnut 
 trees and stood at the end of a huge court- 
 yard, all sides of which were built up. 
 Here, on either hand, were the dairies, the 
 barns, the stables and little house of the 
 foreman, who acted as manager of the 
 estate. Just inside the gate, which was 
 guarded by two huge weeping-willows, 
 which I often climbed, and a giant poplar, 
 which I was never able to climb, stood 
 the well. To this the peasants came for 
 their water every evening, and thus the 
 courtyard in front of the " great house " 
 became the general gathering-ground of 
 the serfs. The courtyard was always full 
 of bustle and excitement, and so the weary 
 leagues of land that stretched around us 
 never gave the sense of loneliness that is 
 found in the American prairies. 
 
 The whole estate was my playground, 
 but my brothers and I played mostly in 
 the orchard, which surrounded the house 
 
BATTLES OF THE ORCHARD 19 
 
 on all sides except the one facing the 
 yard. We had almost every kind of fruit, 
 and I remember especially the cherry- 
 trees, which were very old and very big, 
 with masses of cherries. When they 
 were ripe, Father used to call in the fore- 
 man, Gavrilo, and say to him : 
 
 "Tell everybody that they can go to 
 the orchard with pails and get all the 
 cherries they want." 
 
 " Yes, Barrin " (Master), Gavrilo would 
 reply, " the cherries are very abundant 
 this year." 
 
 The serfs then spent what time they 
 had to spare in shaking down the cherries 
 from the trees, or we boys would climb 
 the branches and shake for the mere fun 
 of sending down showers of juicy fruit on 
 the heads of the devchata or peasant girls. 
 For weeks we lived on cherries, and when 
 everybody had as many as they could 
 preserve, the pigs were allowed to eat the 
 remainder. Mother spent her days dur- 
 ing the cherry season in preserving, and 
 
20 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 as the jars were put on the shelves of our 
 large cool cellar, Ivan and I would creep 
 around to see where they were being 
 stored. 
 
 " They're in that corner where Pahpa 
 kept the bees last winter," Ivan would 
 whisper. It was essential for us to know 
 the location of the desired crocks, in order 
 that the raids we contemplated on them 
 might be successful. 
 
 Father never allowed the weeds and 
 undergrowth in the orchard to be cut, and 
 every year he had to defend his prefer- 
 ence from Mother's attacks. 
 
 " The weeds look so untidy from the 
 house, Pahpa/ 7 Mother would say with 
 gentle reproach. 
 
 " They don't look particularly well," 
 Father acquiesced, " but you know that 
 the best honey comes from the wild 
 flowers. If we cut them, we won't have 
 either the quantity or the same aromatic 
 honey. . . ." Father always won his 
 point, for Mother knew that he loved his 
 
BATTLES OF THE ORCHARD 21 
 
 bees, and that, next to his horses, he prized 
 his numerous hives. 
 
 So the weeds were allowed to grow, till 
 they stood above our heads, and Piotr, 
 Ivan and I used to have exploring and 
 rescue parties in the orchard, pretending 
 that it was a jungle. I can recall that 
 the gooseberry bushes were so high that 
 we used to hide under them and not be 
 seen at all. Raspberries, which grow 
 freely in Russia, we also had in abun- 
 dance. 
 
 On the outskirts of the estate were 
 many elms, not large and spreading like 
 the American trees, but the slighter witch- 
 elms. The boughs of these trees were so 
 elastic and springy that when we climbed 
 on them they bent and swayed like giant 
 fishing rods. Ivan and I were particu- 
 larly fond of climbing them. 
 
 " Vania," I shouted to Ivan, using his 
 pet name, as I swung wildly in the air, 
 " watch me I'm a monkey ! " As the 
 bough sprang upwards elastically, I let 
 
22 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 go, and the spring carried me to the next 
 elm, where I caught another bough, and 
 so we traveled through the wood, mak- 
 ing believe it was the forest primeval. 
 
 When we tired playing " monkeys," 
 there was the little lake beyond the 
 orchard. 
 
 "Til get there first, Volodia!" Ivan 
 would cry as he ran, rapidly unfasten- 
 ing the only two garments he wore : 
 an embroidered linen shirt and linen 
 trousers. 
 
 " No you won't," I would pant behind 
 him, struggling with the buttons ; but he 
 was two years older, so I rarely was able 
 to beat him. By the time we reached the 
 pond, which was not far from the house, 
 both were undressed and with a wild cry 
 we leaped into the warm, clear water. 
 We spent a great deal of our time on this 
 lake bathing and swimming, or watching 
 the water, hanging from the boughs of a 
 weeping-willow tree, which drooped so 
 that its twigs touched the surface of the 
 
BATTLES OF THE OECHAED 23 
 
 pond. One end was covered with a water 
 plant and looked like a lawn. There I 
 often saw birds settle, and it was only 
 when their feet sank and they felt the 
 water below that they rose hastily with a 
 little frightened chirp. 
 
 Wonderful journeys we boys made over 
 that lake. Often we were shipwrecked 
 mariners, stretched out helplessly on the 
 raft, which was one of the lake's chief 
 attractions to us, or sometimes we lay flat 
 on it, heads over the edge, watching the 
 tench swimming in the clear water. 
 Some of them were nearly a foot long. 
 There was a fascination about the teem- 
 ing life at the bottom, midst the feather- 
 like water-weeds. On warm sunny days 
 the weeping-willow was reflected in the 
 brilliant waters, and for many years I 
 wondered why the tree was there, upside 
 down. 
 
 " Is it another tree? " I asked Ivan, as 
 we basked on the raft, very still, so as not 
 to disturb the image. 
 
24 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " No," said Ivan, " it's the spirit of the 
 tree. 7 ' 
 
 Mother taught us to read very early, 
 and we read a great deal. There are very 
 few boys' books written by Russians, but 
 all the great historical writers are in trans- 
 lation. " The Three Musketeers " by Du- 
 mas was an especial favorite, and since 
 there were three of us boys, we enacted 
 anew, over and over again, the adventures 
 of d'Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis. I 
 was always the quick-witted d'Artagnan, 
 resourceful and intrepid ; Ivan, with his 
 dreamy, idealistic nature, played the part 
 of Aramis, the true gentleman, and the 
 more gross part of Porthos fitted Piotr. 
 We were all satisfied with our parts, and 
 never changed them. 
 
 One day, I remember, it was very sunny 
 and the air was particularly exhilarating. 
 We laid out the plan of a battle royal, and 
 our enemies were the honey-giving weeds 
 in the orchard. With wooden swords we 
 attacked our numerous " enemies," snip- 
 
BAITLES OF THE OEGHAED 25 
 
 ping off their heads with dexterous blows. 
 The "foe" made no resistance, so we 
 mowed our way through with shouts of 
 triumph, leaving a trail of ruth behind. 
 We did not notice how the character of 
 our " enemy " changed, and we found our- 
 selves mowing down the tall corn, a field 
 of which was planted beyond the weeds. 
 The " enemy " lay dead around us in 
 hundreds, and when enough of the corn 
 was trampled, flushed with victory, we 
 started off for a cool dip in the lake. 
 
 That evening, at supper, Father said to 
 Mother, looking sternly at us boys the 
 while : 
 
 11 The cows must have got into the corn 
 field this afternoon, Mamoussia (little 
 mother) ; they must be more carefully 
 herded, for they trampled down a great 
 deal of the corn." 
 
 We took the hint. It was generally 
 wise to pay heed when Father spoke, for 
 though kind, he was an army officer and 
 knew exactly what discipline meant 
 
26 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Mother always protected us, but it was 
 not possible to cover all our misdeeds. 
 
 Of course we learned to ride horseback 
 soon after we could walk, and except for 
 several of the horses that were reserved 
 for Father, we had the run of the stables. 
 We generally rode barebacked and at a 
 wild gallop along the dusty roads, any 
 peasants that might happen to be near, 
 scattering at the thud of the flying hoofs. 
 
 On one occasion I wasn't going to 
 school yet a bull that had got away 
 from the herd stopped to watch us as we 
 whirled by. 
 
 11 Looks ugly ! " shouted Piotr. 
 
 His warning was too late. The bull, 
 having decided that I was the most ob- 
 jectionable of the party, started after me 
 with his wicked little eyes shining, his 
 horns low and his tail straight out in 
 the air. My horse, maddened with fear, 
 turned toward home, over the fields 
 and through the woods. I was nearly 
 swept off his back several times by low- 
 
BATTLES OF THE ORCHARD 27 
 
 hung branches and my face and hands 
 were scratched with the brambles and 
 briers that switched across me as we tore 
 through the underbrush. Fortunately 
 the gate into the courtyard of the house 
 was open and the horse rushed through 
 it, heading straight for the stable, the 
 angry bull only a few feet behind. 
 Without stopping, my Arab galloped 
 full speed toward the low door, giving 
 me hardly any opportunity to realize my 
 danger. 
 
 "Jump jump on the roof!" came 
 shouts from the men working in the 
 courtyard. 
 
 No one moved. 
 
 Instinctively I rose on my knees, half 
 crouching on the horse's back, and jerked 
 myself upwards just as he reached the 
 door. The force with which I was rid- 
 ing threw me up on the low-pitched 
 stable roof, up which I rolled and down 
 on the other side, falling safely on the 
 soft weeds beyond. The straw of the 
 
28J WHEN I WAS A BOY IN ZUSSIA 
 
 thatched roof scratched me a good deal, 
 and I was bleeding from the cuts and 
 bruises. 
 
 A moment later Piotr came riding up 
 and j umped off his horse. 
 
 " I'm all right," I said, breathing heav- 
 ily, but getting up and trying to look un- 
 concerned. 
 
 " That ride/' said Piotr, in his grave, 
 judicial way, " was just like d'Artagnan's 
 escape from the ruffian spies. I salute 
 you ! " 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 FAIRIED WINTER IN THE UKRAINE 
 
 WITH the first flurry of snowflakes, our 
 lives and habits changed. As the house 
 sank deeper and deeper in the ever-fall- 
 ing snow, our great and persistent play- 
 enemies, the weeds of the orchard, began 
 to disappear, their tips alone remaining 
 as dark spots on the white background. 
 Instead of bees, they now attracted birds, 
 who flocked in hundreds to peck at the 
 dry seeds. Yet the bees were not for- 
 gotten. 
 
 It was always Ivan who suggested an 
 expedition to the cellar. 
 
 " Volodia." he said, with just a slightly 
 shamefaced look, " won't you go down 
 with me to listen to the bees ? " 
 
 So, quietly, with our wooden swords 
 still girded on as a protection against 
 29 
 
30 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 the ever-lurking enemy, we crept down 
 to the warm, dark cellar, where in a 
 corner the beehives stood. We needed 
 no light to guide us, for the low buzzing 
 of the bees could be plainly heard, and 
 we crouched down beside them, close to- 
 gether. 
 
 "I wonder what they are talking 
 about ?" hazarded Ivan. 
 
 "They might be telling each other 
 stories," I answered, listening to the 
 soothing hum, which has always re- 
 tained for me its mysterious charm. 
 
 "No," said Ivan, "I think they're 
 arguing why so many have to work to 
 keep the idle drones." 
 
 But I persisted that they only told 
 stories, and even now I listen to the 
 bees with the same thrill of mysterious 
 imaginings. Many a time, after that, 
 Ivan's childish interest in the workers 
 and the drones recurred to me. It was 
 a prophecy of his life. 
 
 Our winter wars, always an important 
 
WINTEE IN THE UKEAINE 31 
 
 part of our daily routine, were well pro- 
 vided with munitions. I remember the 
 gigantic snow forts we built, for we had 
 all winter in which to build them, and 
 the snowball ammunition that was pre- 
 pared for the engagements made huge 
 piles behind the ramparts. We naturally 
 played with certain boys of our serfs, but 
 in winter this increase in numbers was 
 particularly welcomed. We built great 
 snow men that towered above us, and we 
 had secret tunnels in our snow hills that 
 took a long time to melt. 
 
 Another source of great joy was skat- 
 ing, and when lessons were over, we 
 would put on our heavy fur-edged coats, 
 padded with the wool of our own sheep, 
 and scamper off to the lake, just as eager 
 to skate as we had been to swim. I re- 
 member very well the day that I gradu- 
 ated from the wooden skate, and first 
 learnt the joy of the keen, steel blade. 
 There was great rivalry between Ivan 
 and me, and although he was older, I 
 
32 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 could beat him at figure-skating. I spent 
 my time writing my name on the ice, of 
 course in Russian letters, and figure "8's" 
 I considered a simple feat. 
 
 The peasant boys, or hloptzi, always 
 fixed up a furrkadlo or ice merry-go- 
 round. A heavy wooden post was first 
 driven into the ice in the middle of the 
 lake. The hloptzi then attached to it a 
 thin pole about thirty-six feet long, so 
 arranged that it could swing freely round 
 and round the pivotal post. To one end 
 of this lever a small sled was fastened, 
 and the other end was left protruding 
 about six feet beyond the post. Two 
 people could get into the sled and then 
 it would be whirled around at a terrific 
 speed by pushing on the shorter end, 
 those riding in the sled making it go 
 even more swiftly by striking the ice 
 with the foot. How we enjoyed skim- 
 ming like birds over the smooth, shining 
 ice ! The roar of the furrJcadlo could be 
 heard a mile away on clear frosty days. 
 
WINTEE IN THE UKRAINE 33 
 
 Although cold weather and storms did 
 not keep us indoors, yet the winter days 
 were short, and we played many indoor 
 games. We boys were especially fond of 
 babJd, or pig-bones, a kind of ninepins 
 made from the bones of a pig's leg. The 
 initial charm of the game lay in the diffi- 
 culty of getting the bones with which to 
 play it. Every time a pig was going to 
 be killed, its bones had claimants long 
 before the fatal day. Clumsy playing 
 meant the loss of bones. As these could 
 not be replaced with any degree of ease, 
 and either they had to be won back or 
 the loser wheedled them from Ksenia 
 when the next pig was killed, it followed 
 that every game was striven for in bitter 
 earnest. 
 
 In the living-room, where we played 
 babkij we were also allowed to spin tops. 
 The room was almost as big as a tennis 
 court, so we had plenty of room to spin 
 those that were made for us by handy 
 peasant boys. All the tops were bril- 
 
34 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 liantly colored. One of the boys among 
 the serfs had a positive genius for making 
 them, and although he showed me many 
 times the simple process, I never achieved 
 his success. 
 
 Often, while we were engrossed in see- 
 ing whose top would spin the longest, a 
 faint sound of bells reached our ears. 
 
 " Pahpa's got the troika," I was always 
 the first to exclaim, for my hearing was 
 very keen. " Let's get Mahma to ask 
 him if he'll take us out." We knew that 
 Mother was our best ally, and she would 
 often secure from Father privileges for 
 us which our own clumsy methods some- 
 times lost. 
 
 " Pahpa," she would say, going outside 
 the house where the troika stood, " can 
 the children go ? " 
 
 Father would look at us and our eager 
 faces, and then the sparks would light 
 up his stern eyes as he nodded his acqui- 
 escence. 
 
 Bundled up in our coats and blankets 
 
TROIKA. 
 
 FREIGHT SLEDGE, 
 
WINTEE IN THE UKRAINE 35 
 
 we climbed into the troika, or three 
 horse sled. Bells jangled on the arched 
 wooden neck-harness peculiar to Russia. 
 The sled was filled with straw, into which 
 we snuggled. Lightly Father touched 
 the horses, and we were off! I can still 
 remember the whistling of the wind as 
 we flew over the smooth hard ground, 
 and I have never seen such driving any- 
 where as in Russia. 
 
 During the long evenings we often 
 played blind-man's-buff, the game of all 
 games beloved by Russian boys and girls. 
 We were allowed to invite into the house 
 Timko, one of my playfellows, whose 
 mother had been my grandmother's serf, 
 and in whom much confidence was placed. 
 Timko and we three boys had grown up 
 together, for he was only two years older 
 than I, and I always found him a willing 
 companion in my rougher games. There 
 was never any stiffness between us and 
 the serf or peasant boys, for they knew 
 that we were the baritchi or young mas- 
 
36 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 ters, and that they belonged to the vil- 
 lage. We were allowed to make as much 
 noise as we pleased, my mother only oc- 
 casionally glancing into the huge room 
 when a particularly loud burst of boister- 
 ousness made her fear for the safety of the 
 furniture. 
 
 At other times we avoided the noisy 
 games, and found our own pleasures in a 
 quieter mood. Ivan and I, who were in- 
 separable, had a secret between us. We 
 both loved the kitchen circle, and it was 
 undoubtedly there that were laid the 
 seeds of that love for the peasants which 
 became our ruling interest in later years. 
 
 The kitchen was a large, low room, 
 with a great open fireplace and oven on 
 one side, along a ledge of which stood 
 earthenware pots. This was Ksenia's 
 kingdom. Here she spent her days cook- 
 ing for the whole household. In her 
 homespun and brightly embroidered 
 peasant dress, she fitted there. Around 
 the walls of this big kitchen were long 
 
WINTER IN THE UKRAINE 37 
 
 benches stretching from corner to corner, 
 and here, after the day's work, the 
 peasants came for their supper. The 
 men took off their heavy fur jackets and 
 clumsy footwear, and sat at ease, chatting 
 among themselves. Some settled on the 
 benches, while others sat on the tree- 
 stumps, of which several were scattered 
 around. Still others climbed on the oven 
 and dozed there comfortably till meal- 
 time. This was always the favorite spot 
 of the Russian peasant, and the lejanka, as 
 it is called, is the place of honor, for there 
 it is warm, no matter how cold the wind 
 outside. 
 
 The vast expanse of the room was 
 lighted by a burning log stuck into a 
 clumsy slab of clay, built into the ledge 
 of the fireplace, in which two holes were 
 made for logs. These were chopped off 
 from the still burning logs and changed 
 when they burnt out. In this semi- 
 darkness, fogged with a slightly acrid 
 smoke, and peopled with tired men, 
 
38 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Nikola, the story-teller, told fearful tales 
 of robbers and ghosts and dead people. 
 And as I listened to these, the shivers 
 would creep down my back, and Ivan 
 and I would press closer to each other 
 and move away from the windows where 
 the cold moonlight cast weird shadows 
 upon the snow-covered weeds and the 
 bare branches of the orchard trees. The 
 wind swayed the ice-covered branches 
 and made them crackle in the quiet night, 
 and Ivan would whisper to me patroniz- 
 ingly : 
 
 " Volodia, if you wake up to-night and 
 you're afraid you can wake me; I won't 
 mind." 
 
 The glow from the fire and the flickers 
 from the torch played over the moveless 
 and tired group, while Nikola, speaking 
 the Ukraine dialect, with its picturesque 
 expressions, told the story of the moujik 
 Prokop and his dealings with the Tsar 
 Goblin. 
 
 " Prokop was a very poor moujik so 
 
WIN TEE IN THE UKEAINE 39 
 
 poor that he often had no food/' Nikola 
 began, while the assembled hloptzi leaned 
 forward eagerly. "One morning as he 
 was leaving his izba to work on the fields 
 he could find to eat only one small crust 
 of bread. He took it, grateful that there 
 was even that much. When he had come 
 to the field, had hitched his oxen and 
 made his plough ready, he took off his 
 coat, wrapped in it the crust of bread for 
 his midday meal, put the bundle under 
 a bush and went to work. 
 
 " Now a goblin had been sitting near 
 that bush, underground, and he saw the 
 moujik put away the crust. He was an 
 under goblin and had been sent from the 
 Dark World Underground to God's world 
 of the sunlight to try to make at least 
 one man discontented with his lot. 
 There was only one requirement, and 
 that was that he must succeed with the 
 first man he tried, for if he failed, he 
 would be compelled to return to the Dark 
 World and tell his failure to the Goblin 
 
40 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Tsar, who could then punish him. He 
 could make him live for a whole year in 
 a hole under a church, which is an awful 
 fate for a goblin." 
 
 Many of the listeners crossed them- 
 selves, and there was a silent pause while 
 one of the moujiks replaced the burnt- 
 out torch with a fresh one. The log 
 spluttered with a brighter gleam, and 
 Nikola went on : 
 
 " Now the under goblin knew that 
 Prokop had only this crust of bread to 
 eat. Making a face at the moujik, who 
 was ploughing, the goblin unwrapped the 
 bundle and took the crust. Then he put 
 the coat back under the bush. The crust 
 was hard, very hard for a goblin's teeth, 
 but the goblin had to eat it because Pro- 
 kop might say something that had prayer 
 words in it, hoping that the bread would 
 come back, and then the goblin would 
 have to return it. But if he had eaten 
 every crumb, he couldn't give it back, no 
 matter what Prokop said. 
 
WINTEE IN THE UKRAINE 41 
 
 " At last the sun rose half way in the 
 sky and Prokop stopped to eat his dinner. 
 He went over to his coat, unwrapped it 
 and looked in vain for the crust. The 
 goblin stood invisible, expectantly rub- 
 bing his hands with their long, sharp 
 nails and waited anxiously for Prokop to 
 say some complaining and unholy words. 
 
 "But the monjik did not. After a mo- 
 ment's silence as he discovered his loss : 
 
 " l May my crust be as welcome to him 
 who took it as it would have been to me/ 
 said Prokop. 
 
 " He walked to the spring, where he 
 drank his fill of water and returned to 
 work. 
 
 " The goblin stood dumfounded, for all 
 his plans had failed. Hastily he returned 
 to the Dark World Underground and pre- 
 sented himself to the Tsar Goblin. 
 
 "'Your Imperial Majesty,' he said 
 trembling, ' I took away his last crust 
 from a moujik, and he only uttered a 
 kindly wish 1 ' 
 
42 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 " The stern Monarch looked at the 
 cowering goblin and said : 
 
 " ' I give you three years in which to 
 catch that moujik. If you fail then, I'll 
 make you count the grains of dust on 
 every cross in the world. Go ! ' 
 
 " Very sad and frightened, the goblin 
 hurried away from the Awful Presence. 
 He changed himself into a man, went to 
 Prokop and asked the moujik to hire him 
 during the ploughing season. Prokop 
 was sorry for him, so he told him that he 
 could stay and work, although he, too, 
 was a poor man. 
 
 " Prokop, never suspecting that this 
 man was a goblin, accepted his friend- 
 ship and listened to his advice. 
 
 "The first year the goblin advised 
 Prokop to sow all his wheat on his hill- 
 side patch and none in the valley. Sure 
 enough, it was a season of great rains, 
 and while the crops of others rotted, 
 Prokop was able to gather so big a har- 
 vest that he could not even use all the 
 
WINTEE IN THE UKEAINE 43 
 
 wheat, and some was left. He did not 
 know what to do with it. 
 
 11 The next year the goblin advised 
 Prokop to sow his wheat in the patch 
 of land that lay in a swampy valley. 
 There was a drought that year. All the 
 crops dried up and there was famine and 
 suffering, but Prokop had so much wheat 
 that he could not use it during the winter 
 and he had still a great deal of grain left 
 over. 
 
 "Then Prokop had too much wheat 
 and he wondered what to do with the 
 grain. 
 
 " ' I'll show you how to make vodka/ 
 said the disguised goblin, rubbing his 
 hands with glee. 
 
 " Prokop, who knew nothing about 
 vodka, or whiskey, and was quite un- 
 suspecting, was willing to be shown. So 
 vodka was made of the extra grain, and 
 Prokop invited many moujiks to his izba 
 and offered them the vodka to drink. 
 
 " After tne first glass the moujiks be- 
 
4A WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 came suspicious and cunning. They 
 showed signs of distrust and watched 
 each other warily. After the second 
 glass, they became quarrelsome like 
 wolves and snapped angrily at each 
 other's remarks. Two of the men be- 
 gan to fight. And, as the goblin 
 watched them, he made grimaces of 
 delight and chuckled to himself. 
 
 "After the third glass of vodka, the 
 moujiks became sullen and sleepy. They 
 staggered out of the izba and into the 
 gutters before it, where they lay on the 
 street like swine. The goblin watched 
 Prokop as he lurched from the izba and 
 fell, and he was happy. He felt sure 
 that at last he could return to the Tsar 
 Goblin with confidence in his future in 
 the Dark World Underground. So he 
 changed back into his goblin shape and 
 appeared before the black throne. 
 
 " ' Well/ said the Goblin Tsar, ' what 
 have you done to reinstate yourself in 
 the Dark World ? ' 
 
OLD RUSSIAN MOUJIK, OR PEASANT. 
 
WINTER IN THE UKRAINE 45 
 
 " So the goblin told of his three years' 
 work and described Prokop, lying in the 
 gutter, face downward. 
 
 " ' You must have put the blood of a 
 fox in the vodka to make the moujiks 
 cunning/ said the Tsar Goblin, ' and the 
 blood of a wolf to have made them fierce, 
 and the blood of a swine to have made 
 them act like the swine that lie in gut- 
 ters I ' 
 
 " * No, I didn't do any of these things/ 
 said the under goblin. ' I didn't have to 
 do them, for in every man there is much 
 of the animal, only it has to be brought 
 out. As long as Prokop did not have 
 enough to eat, he worked well and lived 
 without discontent, but as soon as he had 
 more than he could eat, he learned to 
 make vodka, and that brought out the 
 animal desires that were in him.' 
 
 " ' I don't see that you have done any- 
 thing/ said the Dark Emperor ; ' had you 
 put the blood of a fox, a wolf and a swine 
 in the vodka, you might have claimed 
 
46 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 that it was your act which made Prokop 
 discontented with his lot. But now he 
 doesn't fight and lie in the gutter because 
 you have made him wish to be a fox, a 
 wolf and a swine, but because the vodka 
 is stronger than he. You have failed/ 
 thundered the Monarch, pointing a 
 fearful finger at the trembling goblin. 
 1 Now go and count the grains of dust 
 on all the crosses in the world.' 
 
 " He will count them until the Judg- 
 ment Day," concluded Nikola, " for are 
 we not always erecting new crosses to 
 show God's love ? " 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE WITCH-EVE OF ST. JOHN 
 
 HOLY RUSSIA I The words are the key- 
 note to every Russian life, and through 
 them, memories of childhood bring back 
 clearly some of the most wonderful of all 
 my happy days. Holy Russia ! In these 
 two words are held, as in a priceless 
 casket, some of the most subtle threads of 
 Russian feeling. 
 
 Other lands have other ideals, but the 
 true Russian, especially the Russian of 
 my childhood, responds most quickly by 
 the heart-strings when the deeper notes of 
 life are touched. Though many years 
 have passed since the church itself has 
 played any part in my life, the beauty and 
 symbolism of the quaint forms and re- 
 ligious customs linger with me yet, and I 
 feel anew the mystery and the enthusiasms 
 
 47 
 
48 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 of childhood come over me at the two 
 words of magic Holy Russia I 
 
 The great celebration is Eastertide, for 
 in no country in the world does the Fes- 
 tival of the Resurrection take so deep a 
 hold on the life of the people as it does 
 in Russia. It is truly a season of joy, a 
 time when every one is happy, when 
 quarrels are forgotten, when enemies be- 
 come friends and peace and good-will 
 reign throughout the land. 
 
 When, in retrospect, I think of my 
 happy boyhood in Little Russia, the re- 
 membrance of Eastertide brings me mem- 
 ories as of a Land of Holy Things and of 
 a time of happiness and rejoicing. 
 
 The church was near our house, since 
 the clergy in Russia were practically at- 
 tached to the estates, so although we went 
 there on big occasions, as a rule the serv- 
 ices were held at home. During the long 
 Lenten season (when the moujiks fasted 
 on Wednesdays and Fridays for seven 
 weeks) we all looked forward to Easter 
 
THE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 49 
 
 eve, when the joyous spirit of the season 
 would become manifest after weeks and 
 weeks of repression. 
 
 On the evening before Easter there was 
 always a special church service, and at 
 midnight the fast was broken with great 
 rejoicing. In each household, for weeks 
 before this night, the housewives were 
 busy preparing the luscious special dishes 
 never eaten at any other time with 
 which Easter is associated in the minds of 
 all Russians. During this period Ksenia 
 was inexorable. 
 
 " You can't come into this kitchen," 
 she announced every time we attempted 
 raids, meanwhile standing solidly planted 
 in the doorway. 
 
 " Ksenia, golubushka " (dear), pleaded 
 Ivan, "just a peep I " 
 
 But even flattery never attained the de- 
 sired end and we could do nothing but 
 watch the dozens and dozens of eggs taken 
 from our cellar, and see the pans of home- 
 made cream-cheese taken to the forbidden 
 
50 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 territory of the kitchen. However, we did 
 go to watch the little pigs being specially 
 fattened for the occasion. It was all most 
 thrilling. 
 
 As the great time drew near, we were 
 allowed to take part in one special joy 
 the painting of the Easter eggs. The 
 whole family gathered around the dining- 
 room table, and for hours we sat dipping 
 the eggs, mostly in cochineal, so that they 
 were a bright red. Others were boiled with 
 colored rags, and came out dyed with all 
 the colors of the rainbow. There were 
 many planned secrets. 
 
 " Vania," I would whisper to him, while 
 Mother was out of the room, " help me 
 write * Mahma ' on this egg it's for her." 
 
 So Ivan lent his aid in tracing the letters 
 on the egg in wax. When the egg was 
 dipped it came out red all over, except 
 where the writing was. We also often 
 drew pictures or wrote inscriptions, and 
 these came out so white and clear that the 
 process was in itself a source of great ex- 
 
THE WITCH-EVE OF ST. JOHN 51 
 
 citement. Hundreds of eggs were pre- 
 pared during the week before Easter, and 
 each one of us had a surprise for every 
 other member of the family. 
 
 At last the wonderful evening came. 
 I still feel the thrill of expectancy and 
 anticipation that pulsated through the 
 neighborhood. As the dusk drew in, the 
 peasants brought to the church, for a 
 blessing, the food which was to be eaten 
 when the fast was broken. There was a 
 rough hedge around our little church, 
 and beside this, on the ground, the people 
 laid the roasted meats, the baked cakes and 
 the Easter eggs they had prepared. After 
 the midnight service the people went out- 
 side the church, and stood beside the 
 food, each one holding a lighted candle. 
 The still night, the hushed expectancy of 
 the gathered peasants, the light stream- 
 ing out from the church and the distant 
 barking of dogs it was Russia the 
 Russia of the happiest time of my life. 
 But a rustle swept over the people. 
 
52 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " BatiushJca (Little Father) is com- 
 ing I " went the whisper, as the tall, 
 lanky figure of the priest appeared, 
 clothed in flowing robes, with his servers 
 in procession. He carried a small asperges 
 or broom in his hand, and a server fol- 
 lowed him with a vessel of Holy Water. 
 As Batiushka passed between the rows 
 and rows of food to be blessed, he dipped 
 the asperges in the holy water and lightly 
 sprinkled the offerings. And as he 
 passed and returned to the church the 
 tension of the mystery fled, and the peo- 
 ple turned to each other with the glad 
 words, " Christ is Risen ! " They chatted 
 excitedly and gradually dispersed, all 
 carrying flickering candles and the food 
 that had been blessed. The village was 
 athrob with the sense of relief and joy ; 
 sounds of laughter and merriment filled 
 the air, and the dark roads were alive 
 with the moving candle-lights, the con- 
 secrated will-o'-the-wisps of the Russian 
 people. As each family of serfs or peas- 
 
BATIUSHKA. 
 
THE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 63 
 
 ants entered the izba, the head of the 
 family always made a cross of lampblack 
 just inside the door, by holding the holy 
 candle close to the whitewashed ceiling. 
 Then the candles were put out and kept 
 until the next year. 
 
 We, gathered in the big dining-room, 
 also waited anxiously for the coming of 
 Batiushka, for our food, as well, had to be 
 blessed. 
 
 " He's coming ! " We all rushed in 
 with the news to our parents and the as- 
 sembled relatives. 
 
 After the ceremony, Batiushka always 
 remained to break his fast with us. The 
 long dining-room table was covered with 
 a home-made damask cloth, specially 
 woven for this great occasion. The 
 dishes stood on wonderful embroidered 
 doilies, decorated with hand-made lace. 
 Nothing was overlooked to make the 
 festival different from every other season. 
 
 There was always a young pig, roasted 
 whole, and stuffed with rice, prunes, and 
 
54 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 raisins. A young lamb was also pre- 
 pared in the same way. Think of 
 Ksenia's kitchen and the fire big enough 
 to roast these whole ! There were all 
 kinds of fish, most of which had been 
 caught near by, besides caviar from the 
 Volga and all sorts of pickled dainties. 
 Yet it was the Paskha, looming high 
 above all the other delicacies, one of the 
 national dishes of Russia, which I re- 
 member as the chief dish of Easter. Be- 
 side it always stood the cheese Paskha, an- 
 other indispensable tribute to the season. 
 The Paskha is a kind of cake that 
 stands about one and a half feet high on a 
 base of eight inches. It goes straight up, 
 and on top my mother would make shiny 
 sugar decorations, and mould either a 
 sugar lamb with a flag, or a sugar double 
 cross. About sixty eggs were used to 
 make the Paskha, and its taste was such 
 as only the Russians know how to pro- 
 duce. Nowhere are the candies and 
 cakes equal to those made in Russia. 
 
THE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 55 
 
 ' The cheese Paskha was made of our 
 home-made cheese in the form of a 
 truncated cone, with crosses moulded 
 along the sides. These two Paskhas are 
 the greatest delicacies in Russia, and no 
 Easter is complete without them. 
 
 As decorations for the table, during 
 Lent, Ksenia used to plant wheat and 
 oats in small dishes, and these sprouted 
 to make pretty green islands in the midst 
 of the Easter feast. 
 
 Wherever there was room, stood dishes 
 filled with colored Easter eggs of every 
 tint and shade. Many of the eggs had 
 our names written on them, while others 
 were covered with designs and pictures. 
 It was indeed a night of surprises. 
 
 On that great night, we children went 
 to bed near morning, and Mother and 
 Father did not retire at all. The next 
 day the full spirit of joy and happiness 
 reigned everywhere in Russia. Even to 
 strangers the greeting was addressed : 
 " Christ is Risen I " To which the re- 
 
56 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 sponse was made : " He is Risen, in- 
 deed ! " The kiss of peace was always 
 exchanged, and then each person took 
 out an Easter egg and gave it as a token. 
 No one went out without carrying Easter 
 eggs. Many of the eggs were made of 
 chocolate or other candy. Others were 
 valuable, sometimes, indeed, being made 
 of gold with precious stones, and these 
 were used as gifts, like Christmas pres- 
 ents. 
 
 Always also there were wooden eggs 
 inside wooden eggs, with yet smaller 
 eggs inside, all brightly colored, for this 
 delight of finding one thing inside the 
 other is very general among Russian 
 children. We had boxes inside boxes, 
 sometimes as many as seven. The girls 
 had wooden dolls inside wooden dolls, 
 from a big doll two feet high to the 
 littlest doll inside, perhaps not as big as 
 a finger. And all were alike in shape. 
 
 On Easter morning the streets of the 
 village were full of these old-time cus- 
 
THE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 57 
 
 toms, and nobody refused a greeting. In 
 the house Father and Mother also re- 
 ceived greetings from their peasants. 
 
 During the whole of Easter week the 
 dining-room table was never cleared ; 
 Mother and Ksenia kept it supplied with 
 a never-ceasing flood of dainties. On the 
 first day after Easter we were visited by 
 young people, who flocked to our house 
 in dozens, often passing the night with 
 us, for traveling was a difficult problem 
 in those days of rough roads, and some- 
 times the snow was still on the ground. 
 The second day was usually the day of 
 visits on the part of the older people, 
 who went to exchange greetings with 
 their friends. The roads were musical 
 with the tinkling of troika-bells, as call- 
 ers sped from estate to estate at topmost 
 speed. 
 
 With so many hard-boiled and prettily 
 decorated eggs at our disposal, we spent 
 a great part of Easter week playing games 
 with the eggs (and eating them when 
 
58 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN 
 
 they broke). We had many traditional 
 games with them, the favorite being one 
 in which a trough of boards was made, 
 tipping slightly on the floor. A dozen 
 eggs were then placed on the floor. 
 Piotr, as eldest, set his eggs down first. 
 Aniuta was usually given the initial 
 chance to roll one of her eggs down 
 the trough, to try to hit whichever egg 
 of Piotr's row she most fancied. We all 
 stood around expectantly, for the game 
 was an uncertain one. If the eggs met 
 without mishap, Aniuta won, but if one 
 of the eggs cracked, the good egg went to 
 the sufferer. It required skill to roll 
 gently and in a straight line. We all 
 battled for the possession of a special 
 egg given every year by Father, and the 
 one who was lucky enough to hit it, kept 
 it for many months as a memory of the 
 year's most glorious festival. 
 
 Since in Russia religious interpreta- 
 tions govern most festivals, birthdays 
 were not celebrated. We did not look 
 
THE WITCH-EVE OF ST. JOHN 59 
 
 forward to our birthdays as do American 
 children, but our " name days " were tri- 
 umphantly celebrated. These brought 
 us parties and presents. All our play- 
 mates were named after the saints of the 
 calendar, so that each had a patron saint, 
 with a special day assigned. Instead of 
 having to write down birthday dates, if 
 one knew a friend's name one could al- 
 ways send a gift or a message on the feast 
 day of that saint after whom the friend 
 had been named. On St. Vladimir's day, 
 therefore, I always had a party. The 
 boys from the neighboring families used 
 to drive to the house and Ksenia strove 
 her hardest to prepare good things in my 
 honor. 
 
 Even in the most excitable " name-day " 
 party the symbolism was not forgotten. 
 An ikon hung in the corner of the din- 
 ing-room. It was a painted representa- 
 tion of the Virgin Mary, with all the 
 picture save for the hands and face cov- 
 ered with a gilt plaque. Before sitting 
 
60 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 down to table, we all crossed ourselves, 
 turning slightly to the ikon. Mother 
 poured out the Russian tea, taking the 
 water from the boiling samovar, which 
 stood on the table. It was like a large, 
 brass urn, with a little stove in the centre 
 of it in which charcoal burned, to keep 
 the water boiling all the time. We had 
 plenty of home-made jam, and the cakes 
 abounded. 
 
 At last the feast came to an end, and 
 every one was ready for a noisy game. 
 
 " Let's play blind-man's-buff," I 
 shouted. 
 
 " Yes, yes, let's/' everybody responded, 
 for that was a game the zest of which 
 never waned. But we did not jump up 
 immediately. For one moment there 
 was a silence, while we all crossed our- 
 selves once more, and then we were free 
 to go to our games. 
 
 There were also several ikons in the 
 bedrooms, with incense-burners swung 
 before them, suspended by a thin chain 
 
TEE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 61 
 
 attached to the ceiling. In Mother's 
 room there was a triangular table in the 
 corner, on which ikons stood, with a light 
 always burning before them, and a fald- 
 stool, on which she knelt to pray. Relig- 
 ion was very simple in the Russia of my 
 childhood, and it was universal. We 
 were not taught reverence as such; we 
 grew up in it. It was a part of our lives. 
 
 There were many other celebrations in 
 which the church took part, but Russia 
 is an old country, and many of the cus- 
 toms are far older than Christianity. 
 They date back to a time when people 
 believed in witches and sprites and evil 
 fairies even more than they do now, and 
 when they thought that the powers of 
 darkness needed to be remembered and 
 warded off. One such celebration, espe- 
 cially, is sharply defined in my memory. 
 This is St. John's eve. 
 
 On June twenty-third, almost the long- 
 est day of the year, we children were al- 
 lowed to stay up late to watch the fires 
 
62 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 of St. John, as they were burned through 
 the evening by the peasants. 
 
 In our woods there was a " circle," be- 
 lieved to have been used for many centu- 
 ries for this purpose, to which the peasants 
 hauled brushwood. Ivan and I, always 
 together, watched the dark figures with 
 awe and fear. They were getting ready 
 to make the fire, which would cleanse 
 them from all evil spirits and sickness. 
 
 At last it burned. The flames rose 
 high in the centre of the clearing, casting 
 weird shadows on the assembled peasants 
 in their bright-colored holiday costumes, 
 and on the surrounding forest, sunk in 
 the darkness of the warm, still night. I 
 did not dare look behind, for I felt cer- 
 tain that between the faintly lighted 
 trunks of the trees lurked those goblins 
 about whom Nikola had told us so 
 many tales. And yet I wanted to meet 
 them. 
 
 As the fire crackled, the divchata and 
 the hloptzi pressed close to it, and every 
 
THE WITCH- EVE OF ST. JOHN 63 
 
 sudden spark raised little subdued giggles 
 and a little stampede. 
 
 " You go first no, you no " flut- 
 tered from one or the other of the eager 
 peasants. All wanted to be clean from 
 evil spirits and from disease, but it took 
 courage to jump through the uncertain 
 fire, with its hungry flames. 
 
 Old Nikola, the man who knew every- 
 thing about the Unseen World, was the 
 priest that night. Stern, with his fur 
 cap firmly pulled over his forehead, he 
 watched for the mysterious hour, when 
 tradition allowed the beginning of the 
 ceremony. " It's almost one hour before 
 midnight," he announced solemnly, and 
 the tense excitement grew. 
 
 I pressed closer to Ivan, watching the 
 fire and the dark background beyond. 
 The hour of fairies was fast approaching, 
 the hour when they came to earth. I 
 longed and yet I dreaded to catch a 
 glimpse of the dream-beings, flitting in 
 the darkness beyond. 
 
64 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " It is time," said Nikola, suddenly, 
 guessing the moment by some instinct, 
 for he had no other means at hand. 
 " Who goes first you, Stepan ? " 
 
 And with this direct challenge before 
 him, I saw my old friend, Stepan, step 
 forward before the fire and hesitate. 
 
 "Go on jump I " came the encourag- 
 ing whispers. 
 
 The fire crackled and sent bright 
 sparks among the encircling people, and 
 he jumped, leaving in the fire both evil 
 and disease. The peasant girls followed, 
 with embroidered skirts held tight, while 
 on the other side of the cleansing fire 
 waited those who were willing and ready 
 to catch the jumper, and to beat out the 
 little sparks that settled on the clothing. 
 
 Holy Russia ! The Russia of tradition 
 and fairy tales, the Russia which was a 
 part of us when we, too, jumped the 
 sparkling fires on St. John's Eve. 
 
Editor 
 
 >A by Gilbert H. ir/wc/cm//-, 
 ational Geographic Magazii 
 
 ne. 
 HOLY RUSSIA." 
 
 A devout Russian stopping to cross hiraself as he passes a shrine; 
 a very common sigh*. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE DAYS OF THE SCHOOL TYRANT 
 
 IN my childhood there were no schools 
 with primary classes. Admission to the 
 gymnasium, which corresponds to the 
 eighth and ninth grades of the American 
 school, the high school, and the first two 
 years at college, was only secured by the 
 passing of an entrance examination at 
 about the age of ten. Accordingly, we 
 had to receive all our preparatory train- 
 ing at home. This system has since been 
 changed, for there are now two prepara- 
 tory classes for children under ten, so 
 that they can prepare their entrance ex- 
 aminations at school, instead of at home. 
 
 It was the custom among the nobles to 
 
 keep a resident tutor for their children, 
 
 as a member of the household during the 
 
 period of preparation. My parents, how- 
 
 65 
 
66 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 ever, could not afford this expense, for 
 our estate, though ample, was not large, 
 in comparison with Russian estates, and 
 it took good management to derive suffi- 
 cient income from it. We lived a long 
 way from any city, and there were no 
 transportation facilities. 
 
 Thus it followed that my two brothers, 
 my sisters, and myself were given our 
 preparatory training at home first from 
 Mother, who made time to superintend 
 our studies, in spite of her numerous 
 household duties. Mother was a highly 
 cultured woman, speaking several lan- 
 guages, and was a musician besides. Bati- 
 ushka, the priest on the estate, did his 
 share in teaching us. We were required 
 to learn elementary arithmetic, grammar 
 and composition, our prayers and the 
 catechism. 
 
 Every morning, for at least two hours, 
 we studied. Father's military ideas pre- 
 vailed on the question of time, and noth- 
 ing was allowed to interfere with our 
 
THE SCHOOL TYRANT 67 
 
 educational routine. I was always impa- 
 tient of my morning lessons, for I wanted 
 to be out-of-doors in summer, climbing 
 trees and swimming ; in winter, skating 
 and battling in the snow. Of course I 
 knew that I had to pass the gymnasium 
 examination, so when I was in class I 
 applied myself to my work. Both Mother 
 and Batiushka were strict, and while the 
 range of studies we took up was not large, 
 it was very thorough. Batiushka was 
 gentle and we were quite fond of him, 
 but his quizzes are still to be remembered. 
 Batiushka, which, as I said before, 
 means " little father," was the title by 
 which our tutor-clergyman was known. 
 Every priest is Batiushka to his flock, 
 for he is regarded as the father who takes 
 care of them all. Our Batiushka, whose 
 small church and house were quite near 
 us, always wore cotton trousers, tucked 
 into high boots that reached to his knees, 
 with a long coarsely-woven cassock, that 
 reached from his chin almost to his 
 
68 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 ankles. Neither his hair nor his beard 
 ever were cut, according to the rule of 
 the church, so both were long, and his 
 hair hung down his back in straggling 
 curls. Besides his visits to the school- 
 room, he was a frequent guest at our 
 house in the evenings. 
 
 When Batiushka came to instruct us in 
 the catechism and prayers, he had to 
 teach us a new language, and this added 
 a great deal to our labors for the gymna- 
 sium entrance examinations. The Rus- 
 sian Bible and all the prayers are writ- 
 ten in Old Slavonic, which is so old a 
 form of Russian that it is different from 
 it in many ways. The words were differ- 
 ent, and even the letters were shaped 
 strangely, but we had to learn to read it 
 fluently from the original text. This 
 meant much work and study, far more 
 than I ever wanted to do, but Mother was 
 always ready to help us, for it would 
 have been a terrible disgrace had any of 
 us failed in the examinations. 
 
THE SCHOOL TYEANT 69 
 
 When, at the age of ten, I went for my 
 examination, my excitement was great, 
 and when it was known that I had passed 
 and was actually entered as a pupil in the 
 first class, I felt that I was quite grown 
 up. 
 
 At last came the day when I was to 
 leave Luka-Barskaya to go to the gymna- 
 sium at Nemirov, a small town in the 
 same government. 
 
 " It's quite a long drive/ 1 explained 
 Ivan to me, as we drove away in charge 
 of the coachman, Stepan, " but 111 show 
 you everything, and you won't mind 
 being away from home a bit. I didn't, 
 when I went." 
 
 Nemirov, in 1858, when I went there 
 for the first time, belonged to a very old 
 Polish noble, Count Felix Pototzky. He 
 had given the necessary funds for the 
 building of the gymnasium, which was 
 only accessible, in those days, to the sons 
 of the nobility and privileged classes. 
 No provision had yet been made for the 
 
70 WHEN I WAS A EOT IN RUSSIA 
 
 education of the serfs, though to-day vast 
 efforts are being made to give opportuni- 
 ties to the peasants. 
 
 I remember Count Pototzky as an old 
 man, always heavily scented, who held a 
 prominent position at the Court of the 
 Tsar. Consequently, he spent his winters 
 in Petrograd at the Court, and his sum- 
 mers in his Palazzo in Nemirov. This 
 was a mansion surrounded by a wide 
 park, in which an orchestra played on 
 fine evenings, and which was open to the 
 people of the town, who went there in 
 large numbers. The park was traversed 
 by many flower-bordered alleys that mean- 
 dered among the green lawns and glades 
 of woodland. When Ivan took me 
 around, the first thing he showed me was 
 the playground next to the gymnasium. 
 
 " Count Pototzky has given all these 
 things, too," he explained, showing me a 
 bewildering array of swings and nets. 
 " See those nets, spread above the ground ? 
 Well, those are for jumping on, this 
 
THE SCHOOL TYRANT 71 
 
 way," and I found myself alone, while 
 Vania jumped like a monkey on the 
 large nets, spread over a great distance, 
 that bounced him up into the air like an 
 elastic ball. I did not need much en- 
 couragement to join him, or to learn the 
 use of the swings and giant strides. 
 
 The houses in Nemirov were mostly 
 built of wood with thatched straw roofs, 
 and nearly all of them were surrounded 
 by huge gardens. In summer the streets 
 were so dusty that we traveled to the 
 gymnasium through clouds of dust, and 
 we fancied ourselves a company of hus- 
 sars on the charge. 
 
 In winter-time the mud was so deep 
 that we had to wear high boots, and I 
 still feel the delight with which Ivan and 
 I used to wade into the middle of the 
 street, where the mud was deepest. We 
 played that it was lava from a volcano. 
 
 These high boots were almost univer- 
 sally worn in Russia, both by children 
 and by grown-up people, partly because 
 
72 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 it was a custom, and partly because of 
 the deep mud on the streets of provincial 
 towns. The boots are still worn, although 
 there has been a vast improvement in the 
 condition of the roads. 
 
 We reached school at nine o'clock in 
 the morning and were not let out until 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, with only 
 an allowance of half an hour for dinner, 
 and recesses of ten minutes between 
 lessons. Many of the boys brought 
 sandwiches for dinner, but Ivan and I 
 used to race home, for the house where 
 we boarded through the term was not far 
 from school. Ivan was a better runner 
 than I, but that sharp trot every day 
 through dust, or mud, or snow built up 
 my wind amazingly. Almost the only 
 exercise we had during school term was 
 that which we undertook for ourselves, 
 for we had none of the school sports that 
 are so wide-spread in England, and to a 
 less degree in America. We had a large 
 courtyard in the school, where we played 
 
THE SCHOOL TTEANT 73 
 
 ball in summer. One of our favorite 
 games was lutJca, which is the Russian 
 name for baseball, played similarly to the 
 American game, except that we had no 
 coaching or training. Another game that 
 absorbed us was stenka, a kind of hand- 
 ball, except that we played it without 
 rules, and very much as we pleased. In 
 winter we waged battles with snowballs, 
 which were so fierce that the teachers did 
 not dare show themselves in the yard for 
 fear of well-aimed " bullets " hitting them. 
 
 The work at school was hard and the 
 conditions under which it had to be done 
 were more than unpleasant. We were 
 treated almost like convicts, and the 
 teachers handled us just as they pleased. 
 
 " Hey, you, porridge-eating beetles 1 
 Keep quiet I Silence ! " would shout old 
 Volkovsky, our teacher of arithmetic, 
 when we became too noisy. But we did 
 not stop. 
 
 " Ha ! Whew I " he would spit on Ihe 
 floor, then get up from his desk. 
 
74 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 We all knew that if old Volkovsky got 
 up for any other reason than that of 
 going to the blackboard, we were going 
 to have trouble. Immediate silence 
 reigned the silence before a storm. 
 With bated breath, not daring to move, 
 we waited for the hurricane to descend on 
 some one of us. Suddenly a blow would 
 whizz through the air, and we turned 
 in time to see the head of one of our 
 comrades banging helplessly against the 
 desk, as old Volkovsky hit the culprit. 
 
 Teacher Gishman, who taught French 
 and German, used a ruler as a means of 
 corporal punishment. He always called 
 out four boys at a time for questions, and 
 made them stand in a row before him. 
 
 " Vinegar ? " he asked. If the answer 
 was not instantaneous, he passed on to 
 the next. 
 
 " Quicker you you ! " When all 
 had failed, he shouted : " Give me your 
 paws, you scoundrels." 
 
 " Es-sig" he hissed between his teeth 
 
THE SCHOOL TYRANT '75 
 
 as his ruler came down on the hand of 
 the first boy. 
 
 " Es-sig" he repeated with acerbity, as 
 he raised the ruler on the next boy. 
 When he had finished, the four boys 
 returned to their seats with red faces, 
 while four new victims, with pale faces, 
 were called out. After his lessons our 
 hands were swollen and red, as if we had 
 been playing two of our favorite ball 
 games, stenJca and kasha, after which our 
 hands often were so swollen that we could 
 not bend the fingers. 
 
 Our reading teacher, Antonikovsky, 
 found vent for his temper in an entirely 
 different way. 
 
 "You, pig's ear, read," he commanded, 
 poking the boy thus addressed in the 
 back. 
 
 " You dirty snout, sitting next to the 
 pig's snout, repeat what I said ! " and the 
 boy at whom his finger was pointed was 
 compelled to repeat the words. He had 
 a perfectly marvelous imagination, and 
 
76 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 there was little repetition in his epithets, 
 for he always invented new ones. When 
 he lost his temper he used to catch the 
 culprit by the ear and squeeze very hard. 
 
 I cannot deny that we made so much 
 noise that we could not even hear our- 
 selves talk. When recess was announced, 
 I remember one of the boys, Cherkassky, 
 jumping up on a bench, and stamping 
 hard with both feet, shouting, " Pe-re- 
 me-na !" " Re-ce-e-ess I " We would take 
 up the cry in different tones, and the 
 teacher, with his fingers in his ears, hur- 
 riedly left the class room. Suddenly, amid 
 the hubbub like a bomb Overseer Kors- 
 sun entered and grabbed all the boys close 
 to him by the hair. We dodged, like 
 sheep, the blows that were showered 
 on us. 
 
 At intervals Inspector Delsal arrived in 
 the class room, followed by the janitor, 
 Ossiatovsky, with a bunch of rozgi or rods, 
 and placing a stool in front of the benches, 
 began whipping the noisy ones. 
 
THE SCHOOL TYRANT 77 
 
 The state of affairs in the gymnasia of 
 Russia had become a national scandal, 
 and efforts were made to reform these 
 conditions. A year after my entrance 
 into this atmosphere of continuous abuse 
 and corporal punishment, the system was 
 entirely changed, after which we were 
 never abused and whipped, although the 
 spirit in the gymnasium was anything 
 but peaceful. The rough discipline, how- 
 ever, taught us boys a few things. It 
 taught us to combine against the teach- 
 ers, and many a bitter practical joke was 
 played on them, not slight jests, but 
 affairs that were flavored with revenge 
 and hate. The seeds of hatred toward 
 those in power were sown at school. We 
 had heard rumors of the coming change, 
 but not even the most sanguine of us be- 
 lieved that the Pirogoff reform would be 
 as sweeping as it was. The masters were 
 ordered to treat the pupils with respect, 
 and instead of the raucous " you " or even 
 insulting epithets, they were required to 
 
78 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN HUSSIA 
 
 address us by name with the prefix Gos- 
 podin or Master. This shows how utterly 
 the point of view had changed. It was a 
 marvelous reform, but it was too sudden. 
 
 After the trusteeship of Pirogoff, to 
 whom every one of us owed a debt of 
 gratitude, Baron Nicholas obtained the 
 position, and having been brought up in 
 the schools of the old style, he believed 
 that rough handling led to manliness. 
 He tried to restore the old system, but 
 this was impossible. We had learned 
 that school could be managed without 
 brutality, and the effort to force it on us 
 again led to revolt. The feeling between 
 the boys and the masters became even 
 more bitter. 
 
 At this time an insurrection broke out 
 in Poland, which, once having been a 
 great and important kingdom, has always 
 been impatient and resentful of being 
 merely a Russian province. The Poles 
 were anxious to shake off some of the 
 hardships imposed on them by Russia, 
 
THE SCHOOL TYEANT 79 
 
 one of which was the refusal of the gov- 
 ernment to allow Polish in schools. In 
 Nemirov, most of the nobility were Polish, 
 while the peasants were Jcatzapi or Little 
 Russian. The Polish noblemen organized 
 themselves and their trusted followers into 
 a militia which used arson as a weapon. 
 This caused the Russian government to 
 take strong measures to crush the rebellion 
 and prevent further burning of houses. 
 
 Nemirov became an armed centre, the 
 streets were filled with soldiers and every 
 house was watched. The officers searched 
 all the homes in which they suspected the 
 presence of revolutionary literature. It 
 was a very exciting time, and the political 
 unrest permeated our schoolrooms, where 
 most of the boys were sons of Polish no- 
 bles, with a minority of Little Russians. 
 I remember seeing gendarmes or police 
 peeping into houses through the cracks in 
 the shades in an effort to find evidence of 
 incriminating activities. 
 
 That vacation, when Stepan came to 
 
80 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 drive us three boys home, he was fright- 
 ened. 
 
 " Piotr Karpovitch," he said to the eld- 
 est of us, " the people are attacking all 
 the Pani (nobles)." 
 
 "But we're not Polish Pani, we're 
 Russian," answered Piotr in bewilder- 
 ment. Nevertheless, we had to get 
 home, so we started on our eventful 
 journey. 
 
 To reach Luka-Barskaya we had to 
 pass about ten villages, and at the very 
 first one, trouble began. As we ap- 
 proached, some of the peasant guards 
 closed the village gates, thus barring the 
 road, while others, with clubs in their 
 hands, rushed out of the guard-house, 
 shouting : 
 
 " Stop ! " at the same time catching the 
 bridles of the horses. 
 
 Our horses, frightened by this unusual 
 treatment, lurched from side to side, with 
 their heads thrown back, whereupon one 
 of the guards used his club on their heads 
 
THE SCHOOL TYEANT 81 
 
 to quiet them down. This only increased 
 their panic. Meanwhile the rest of the 
 guards, Laving closed the gates, began 
 shouting and demanding our passports. 
 Until these were produced and read to 
 the satisfaction of the men, who now 
 realized that we were Russians and not 
 Poles, there was so much abuse and noise 
 that we were almost deaf. 
 
 Had this happened only once we might 
 not have felt the journey so disturbing, 
 but the same scene was repeated in the 
 following three villages. We were al- 
 ready beginning to think that we would 
 get home with nothing worse than abuse 
 and noisy demonstrations, when we 
 reached a larger village, where the 
 guards were apparently even fiercer. 
 
 " Stop ! " yelled the guard, daring to 
 point his bayonet at us. 
 
 We stopped, but the horses, now driven 
 to a panic fear, began plunging wildly 
 from side to side, dragging the carriage 
 with them. 
 
82 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " Stop I " yelled a chorus of armed 
 guards, running up to the swaying car- 
 riage. 
 
 But the horses would not stop. A 
 roar of orders issued from the men and 
 some of them made a rush at the car- 
 riage, with their clubs raised, while 
 others did their best to terrify further 
 the already panic-stricken horses. A 
 one-sided battle ensued, in which the 
 guards belabored the horses, and bat- 
 tered the carriage with peasant stupid- 
 ity, seeming to think that it, too, was 
 responsible for the disobedience of orders. 
 
 " What do you want, you fools ? " 
 shouted Piotr vainly through the deaf- 
 ening tumult. " We're Russians ! " 
 
 But his words were drowned in the 
 yells of the men, to which was now 
 added the furious barking of a dozen 
 fierce village dogs. 
 
 " Your passports," yelled the attack- 
 ing guards, ignoring the fact that Piotr 
 had held them ready for several minutes. 
 
THE SCHOOL TYRANT 83 
 
 One of the guards came forward through 
 the struggling mob, when unexpectedly 
 there was a sharp crack, and the carriage 
 listed to one side. The shaft was broken. 
 
 A sudden silence fell over the whole 
 crowd when it became apparent that 
 damage had been done. Arms that had 
 been brandished were dropped, the ring- 
 leaders, who had been so domineering 
 and valiant a moment before, pulled off 
 their caps and stood shamefaced. Like 
 boisterous children, who have done some- 
 thing wrong, they hung their heads, 
 silenced, confused and back to the tame 
 obedience of the servile peasant The 
 man with the bayonet hastily grabbed 
 the passports. 
 
 " We didn't know who you were, 
 Baritchi (masters)," he said, glancing 
 guiltily at the broken shaft, around 
 which a few of the men had gathered. 
 11 We'll see what we can do to fix it up 
 for you." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 SETTING THE SLAVES FREE 
 
 I WAS thirteen years old when the 
 Great Change was made in Russia. Per- 
 haps the greatest single act ever ordered 
 by any ruler in all the world's history 
 was that of Tsar Alexander II in freeing 
 the serfs in 1861. Over fifty million 
 serfs, or more than one-half of his em- 
 pire, he released from bondage. Thus, 
 before Abraham Lincoln's emancipation 
 proclamation was made, Russia had set 
 her slaves free, of whom more than 
 twelve times as many were liberated by 
 one imperial ukase or order as were made 
 free by the Civil War. 
 
 Serfdom had always existed vaguely in 
 Russia, and definitely so since the seven- 
 teenth century. Father explained to me 
 that the system was the result of the need 
 84 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 85 
 
 of the nobility to keep laborers on their 
 lands, instead of allowing them to wander 
 from place to place. For the good of the 
 country it was advisable that the land 
 should have people steadily employed in 
 cultivating it, so little by little different 
 Imperial Ukases or edicts granted special 
 privileges to the nobility. Father, for 
 example, had rights of life and death 
 over the serfs on our small estate of 
 Lu ka-Barskay a. 
 
 Alexander II not only set the serfs 
 free, but he also bought three hundred 
 and fifty million acres of land from the 
 landowners and turned it over to the 
 villages, giving them fifty years to pay 
 for it. The peasants found it hard to 
 understand why they should pay for land 
 on which they had always lived. The 
 freedom manifesto created a storm of dis- 
 content, frequently ending in riots. Fi- 
 nally the question of settling the local 
 difficulties of the liberation was given 
 into the hands of committees of nobles, 
 
86 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 organized in every " government," called 
 the Arbiters of Peace* 
 
 Well I remember the noisy meetings of 
 the neighboring nobles in our house, and 
 the endless discussions about the rights 
 of the serfs. 
 
 The serfs themselves were so ignorant 
 that it was very difficult to make them 
 understand the extent of their freedom, 
 and the fact that they had to pay for the 
 land they were given. It was that which 
 they never understood, for it seemed to 
 them that since they had always lived on 
 it, it was their own. I remember that 
 Father spent a great deal of time ex- 
 plaining to them the different points of 
 the edict, while they, gathered in our 
 courtyard, asked him numerous ques- 
 tions. 
 
 It was this inability to understand the 
 Imperial Ukase which led to trouble and 
 riots, and in many localities the situation 
 became very serious. On the estate of 
 Count Kushelev-Bezborodko, who was 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 87 
 
 our neighbor, these disorders among the 
 peasants led to fearful reprisals on the 
 part of the soldiers, who punished se- 
 verely the leaders of the riots. 
 
 The liberation made little impression 
 on me, because we had no trouble at all 
 in Luka-Barskaya. We only heard of the 
 riots that occurred in many places, often 
 resulting in the burning of barns and 
 other needless violence. 
 
 The Arbiters of Peace came to Luka- 
 Barskaya and found but little to do, for 
 the serfs trusted Father. Stern and silent 
 though he was, the moujiks knew that he 
 had always been a just master, and at 
 this critical time not a single serf on our 
 estate showed disloyalty. 
 
 In the household the liberation made 
 little outward difference, for, by the 
 ukase, the domoviye, or house serfs, were 
 obliged to serve for two years longer. So, 
 aside from the fact that during the whole 
 summer the courtyard was full of groups 
 of peasants talking noisily together, the 
 
88 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 freedom of the serfs affected me very 
 slightly. Little did I know, then, that 
 it was the beginning of a chain of events 
 which would lead me into hourly peril 
 and a hunted life. 
 
 How serious the peasant riots had been 
 we learned when Ivan and I returned to 
 the gymnasium and donned again the 
 familiar school uniform. 
 
 In Russian schools the wearing of uni- 
 forms was general. We had a dark-blue 
 uniform, with scarlet collars and bright 
 brass buttons, and a cap to match. In 
 this we studied and played, and later, 
 when I entered the University, I still had 
 the uniform, although its cut was differ- 
 ent. We were allowed to wear other 
 clothing indoors, but we could not leave 
 the house except in our uniforms. 
 
 In spite of the reforms in the gymna- 
 sium, the conditions were still hateful, 
 and these were made worse by the mar- 
 riage of Count Pototzky's daughter to 
 Count Strogonov, a Russian, who was 
 
fr. I 
 
 \ 
 
 II I 
 
 o 
 
 H 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 89 
 
 economical to stinginess. He abolished 
 all the swings and nets, which had been 
 our great joy, and also raised the rentals 
 of the houses in Nemirov. Gradually 
 people left the town, for its old charm 
 was gone, and as time passed on, the 
 treatment in the gymnasium again be- 
 came coarse and humiliating. Ivan and 
 Piotr prevailed upon Father to allow 
 them to be transferred to the gymnasium 
 at Kamanetz-Podolsk, where I followed 
 them shortly afterwards. 
 
 There, at first, conditions were more 
 bearable. As it unfortunately chanced, 
 however, just before we had been trans- 
 ferred, a serious riot around the school had 
 occurred, during which the boys had 
 fought the police, and two men with a rep- 
 utation for brutality were sent for the 
 purpose of definitely establishing order in 
 the gymnasium. Sixty of the culprits 
 were expelled, which was a frequent 
 method of punishment, and we were 
 rigidly watched. Inspector Tulub, in his 
 
90 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN KUSSIA 
 
 search for dangerous boys, picked out 
 Ivan as an " undesirable/' for so much 
 did he talk about liberty and progress 
 that Tulub felt he was likely to be a fire- 
 brand and resent authority. 
 
 One evening Ivan came in quite ex- 
 cited. 
 
 "Volodia," he said, closing my bed- 
 room door tightly, and speaking in a 
 whisper, "do you know what I saw? 
 . . . Tulub sneaking around Dunav- 
 sky's house, listening at his window and 
 trying to peep into the room. . . . 
 What do you think of that ? It's worse 
 than Nemirov. I'll let him know what I 
 think of him some day ! " 
 
 Another time Tulub raided the home 
 of one of our comrades in the hope of 
 finding some " revolutionary " literature. 
 Often in class he came up to the boys, 
 saying roughly : " Arms up," and then 
 he went through their pockets. I could 
 never even imagine what it was he hoped 
 to find, for at that time I did not know 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 91 
 
 about the movement toward democracy 
 that became known as Nihilism, and which 
 was already vaguely in the air in certain 
 universities, but there was no restraining 
 Ivan at all when this spying began. 
 
 " It's unjust," he said excitedly, after 
 one of these searches. " What right has 
 he to do as he pleases ? I won't stand 
 for it ! It's an insult 1 " 
 
 Ivan was not only older than I, but he 
 was old for his years, and life made a 
 deeper impression on him than it did on 
 me. He was more sensitive, also, so at 
 every fresh outrage there was added an- 
 other spark of indignation. He took 
 still more to reading, and spent all his 
 pocket money buying books. It was a 
 year before his graduation that he showed 
 me one evening his new treasures two 
 sets of Belinsky and Dobroliubov, both 
 Russian classics. 
 
 " Vania, I'm glad," I said, looking at 
 the handsome volumes ; " you've wanted 
 them for years." 
 
92 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " Yes," he agreed ; " won't it be fun 
 reading them out loud at home during 
 vacations ? " 
 
 "By the way, Vania," I continued, 
 after examining the books, " didn't you 
 have a row with Tulub this morning? 
 One of the boys told me he heard some- 
 thing about it." 
 
 " It wasn't much," Ivan answered. 
 " He's looking for trouble I suppose 
 he doesn't think me safe, so he made 
 some remark about my uniform this 
 morning. I told him he didn't know 
 anything about it, so then he made some 
 more remarks. Well, I can stand a good 
 deal, but I won't tolerate public insult. 
 ... I told him exactly what I thought 
 of him." 
 
 I wondered just what Ivan had said, 
 for I knew that he was utterly reck- 
 less once his pride was roused. It made 
 me uneasy. Another day Tulub made 
 trouble for Ivan because he wore high 
 boots, to which he took exception. 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 93 
 
 " Don't let me see you in them again/ 1 
 he bellowed at Ivan. 
 
 " I'll wear them as long as I please," 
 was the calm reply. 
 
 All through that year and the next 
 which was Ivan's final year at the gym- 
 nasium this system of persistent nagging 
 and public insult continued. It did not 
 surprise any one, accordingly, that the 
 final break was both sudden and stormy. 
 
 Unfortunately Ivan had also had 
 trouble with the governor of the gov- 
 ernment, Goremykin. There was a rule 
 that all the gymnasium boys must take 
 off their hats upon meeting the governor. 
 One day Ivan met him in the street out- 
 side the town, and did not take off his 
 hat, whereupon the governor stopped 
 him and demanded his name. 
 
 " I gave him my name," said Ivan in 
 telling me about it, " although I don't 
 see why he was so touchy." 
 
 Again I was troubled, for I had heard 
 that Goremykin was petty about for- 
 
94 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 malities, and that he never forgave an 
 affront. 
 
 At last the time came for Ivan's final 
 examinations, which would give him his 
 diploma for entrance to the University. 
 He was so clever, and had made so bril- 
 liant a record in his classes that I never 
 doubted his success, and I awaited the de- 
 tails of the examination without anxiety. 
 
 But the unexpected happened. The 
 oral examination was held before the 
 Pedagogical Committee, and Inspector 
 Tulub was in charge of the proceedings. 
 As soon as Ivan entered he was spotted 
 by Tulub, who felt that this was his last 
 chance to make trouble. 
 
 "You haven't shaved this morning/' 
 he shouted angrily, referring to the slight 
 down on Ivan's face, and regardless of 
 the fact that the committee was present. 
 
 Ivan's outraged sense of propriety got 
 the best of his temper. 
 
 "It is stupid," he answered loudly, 
 11 for you to spend your time examining 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 95 
 
 the cut of our coats, and looking to see 
 if we have shaved or not those are small 
 things, and I think you would be more 
 useful if you took a greater interest in 
 our mental development." 
 
 This frank speech only roused Tulub, 
 who began yelling and shouting abuse at 
 Ivan in the old-time way, without any 
 restraint on either his language or the 
 pitch of his voice. 
 
 " You won't get your diploma I " he 
 finished hoarsely. 
 
 11 1 don't care a rap for your diploma," 
 said Ivan angrily, and marched out of 
 the room. 
 
 Then the storm broke. The whole 
 episode was taken as being a sign of 
 Ivan's unstable revolutionary ideas. The 
 governor remembered his own unpleas- 
 ant meeting with Ivan, and also took a 
 hand in the matter, with the result that 
 for about four days Ivan was constantly 
 and persistently dogged by spies, who 
 watched his every movement. 
 
96 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " The funniest thing about this/' said 
 Ivan, laughing, after he had come in 
 from a walk to the bookstore, " is the 
 way everybody runs when they catch 
 sight of me. Why, Nemorsky made a 
 dive for a side street to-day, so as to 
 avoid speaking to me." I knew that our 
 friends could do nothing else. Not only 
 did they fear to show him sympathy, but 
 they were even afraid of admitting friend- 
 ship with him, as it would have harmed 
 them, and done him no good. 
 
 " I'm avoided as if I had the plague, 7 ' 
 he said bitterly one evening, in telling 
 me of his experiences. 
 
 The school authorities and the gov- 
 ernor went into the details of the whole 
 incident, and it was several days before 
 they arrived at a decision. Finally one 
 day a carriage drove up to our door 
 for the purpose of taking Ivan home 
 to Luka-Barskaya. A gendarme fully 
 armed was one of the party, and it was 
 his duty to see that the recalcitrant 
 
SETTING THE SLAVES FEEE 97 
 
 schoolboy reach his home without any 
 attempts at escape. 
 
 This incident had a definite influence 
 on me. I loved Ivan as few brothers 
 love a brother, and the fact that he had 
 been unjustly expelled made me hate the 
 authorities with a deep and bitter hatred 
 that nothing could soften or eradicate. 
 I became proud of the fact that I had a 
 brother who had been sent home under 
 the supervision of a gendarme, for I felt 
 it was an honor to be at war with those 
 who had no regard for our dignity, or 
 any interest in our success. It was then 
 that were laid the first seeds of that 
 struggle against injustice and against un- 
 intelligent authority which was to change 
 the entire course of my life. I really 
 left careless boyhood behind on the day 
 that Ivan was expelled. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 CHOOSING A CAREER 
 
 I PASSED my final examinations and 
 received my diploma in 1866, five years 
 after the freeing of the serfs. Immedi- 
 ately the problem of choosing a career 
 in life faced me, for the estate did not 
 provide enough means for us three boys. 
 My drive home, with the diploma in 
 my possession, was a triumphant one. 
 Everybody was waiting for me in the 
 courtyard, and the carriage had no sooner 
 entered the gates than I shouted, "I've 
 passed, hooray ! " 
 
 Mother kissed me proudly, and I was 
 the hero for several days. 
 
 Still the horror of my schooldays hung 
 over me like a nightmare, and many 
 times did I wake with a feeling of dread 
 98 
 
CHOOSING A GAEEEE 99 
 
 that another day of trouble and insult 
 was before me. Then, with a start, I 
 remembered that I was at home, and that 
 my gymnasium days were over, where- 
 upon I went to sleep again with profound 
 relief. 
 
 That autumn I became a student in 
 the University of Kiev, which is one of 
 the best in all Russia. My plans for the 
 future were quite vague, so I entered the 
 Physico-Mathematical faculty, principally 
 because I was very fond of mathematics. 
 At that time the only open avenues of 
 work to a man of rank and education 
 were the army and government. For 
 the former, a large personal income was 
 necessary to support an officer's position 
 and the routine of departmental work 
 did not appeal to me, so I left the 
 final decision for the future, and mean- 
 while studied hard and did a great deal 
 of reading. Just at this time the spirit in 
 the University was very dead and lacked 
 vigor and enthusiasm. Many of the 
 
100 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 more active students had participated in 
 the Polish Revolution and had been sent 
 to Siberia. Those who had remained, 
 therefore, were the less advanced. Dur- 
 ing the day we attended our lectures, 
 and at night we either read or joined 
 small student societies ; the athletic side 
 of college which means so much in 
 America was absolutely unknown at 
 the University of Kiev at that time. 
 We had no time for sports, for the work 
 to be done was more than three times as 
 much as in a modern American college. 
 I had not lost my love for games, how- 
 ever, and I became quite an expert in 
 both chess and billiards. 
 
 Most of the students were poor, for their 
 parents were only moderately well-to-do, 
 and they had to train for a profession ; 
 whereas the sons of rich families remained 
 landowners. We organized a mutual 
 dining-room, to which all contributed. 
 We also founded a mutual aid association, 
 which enabled us to care for those com- 
 
CHOOSING A CAREER 101 
 
 rades who were having particular diffi- 
 culty in struggling along through college. 
 Gradually it became a matter of pride to 
 be poor, and those students who had 
 plenty of money never displayed it, for it 
 was considered bad form. We thought 
 it a sign of intelligence for a student to 
 be plainly dressed, and to live simply. 
 Those who were dudes were despised, and 
 were not admitted to our circles and 
 societies. 
 
 At the time I did not realize that we 
 were adopting a new attitude in this de- 
 termination to live the simple life. It 
 was utterly sincere, and it taught us to 
 share equally, it gave a real object in the 
 vague ideals of youth, and, in my case, it 
 laid another stone in the wall of democ- 
 racy, which I was already building. 
 
 Three of my fellow students and I lived 
 in a big room, for it was the custom 
 among us to live together whenever pos- 
 sible. There were many advantages in 
 this arrangement, for not only did it 
 
102 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 make our expense smaller, but it made 
 life more interesting and less lonely. 
 
 We paid eight roubles a month for this 
 room, which is equivalent to about four 
 dollars. Our landlord, Zimenko, was a 
 good-natured old man, whose sole duty 
 was to light the samovar for us. 
 
 We started a small library of our own 
 after we had attended to the more impera- 
 tive needs of our student body, but al- 
 though this was never more than a name 
 during my student days, it proved to be 
 a turning point. All our books together 
 only filled six shelves, or rather plain 
 boards, which had been nailed against the 
 wall. As the two top shelves were taken 
 up by numerous volumes on naval strat- 
 egy, donated by somebody at the time of 
 our opening, there was little room left for 
 any very extensive collection. Moreover 
 there was a particularly fine library at the 
 University, which was at the entire dis- 
 posal of all the students, so there was no 
 real need for our own six shelves of books, 
 
CHOOSING A CAREER 103 
 
 except that we all liked the feeling that 
 this was really our own library. 
 
 "Vladimir," said Sergius, my room- 
 mate, coming in one evening with mys- 
 tery written all over him, " the police are 
 watching our library. They've already 
 got Zimenko under their thumb." 
 
 This was serious news. It was clear 
 that the authorities suspected us. Since 
 there were thousands of volumes in the col- 
 lege library, why should we have books 
 unless they were of a forbidden character, 
 they thought. We called a meeting has- 
 tily. Sergius, who was of a cautious 
 habit, was willing to give up the library, 
 but the rest of us, young and full of fight, 
 were actually glad that we had an oppor- 
 tunity of being defiant. As for me, Ivan's 
 expulsion from the gymnasium had set- 
 tled for good and all the question of my 
 relation to authority. I was a rebel 
 against injustice, and I had grown to hate 
 spying. 
 
 Our library had no revolutionary works 
 
104 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 in it, but we felt there was a principle in- 
 volved. We were none of us revolution- 
 ists then, we were loyal Russians with a 
 deep love for our own country, and a boy- 
 ish belief that we could set everything 
 right. This was still during the early 
 part of the reign of Alexander II, the 
 Tsar who had freed the serfs, and we felt 
 that the spying and the misunderstand- 
 ings were due to ignorant officials, not to 
 the government. To ourselves, in a hot- 
 headed (and as I now see, a youthful and 
 immature) way, we made an issue of that 
 library, and even those out-of-date and 
 useless books on naval strategy became 
 priceless possessions. This determination 
 to fight for a principle is deeply rooted in 
 Russian character, as deeply rooted as the 
 desire to succeed is in America. So the 
 right to have books of my own became to 
 me as a banner of liberty under which I 
 was willing to fight. 
 
 The idea of democracy became more 
 and more real to us. Since we were ac- 
 
CHOOSING A CAEEEE 105 
 
 cused of having forbidden books, we 
 might as well have them. Books that 
 told about the French Revolution, stories 
 of the American War of Independence, 
 discussion about the life of working peo- 
 ple, all these were denied us. In Russia, 
 to-day, there is no such censorship, but 
 this was at a time when the country was 
 in a ferment. We got those books smug- 
 gled in across the frontier, and largely 
 because they were forbidden fruit, we de- 
 voured them. 
 
 Every vacation I went home to Luka- 
 Barskaya, where I spent happy weeks 
 with my parents and Ivan, who lived 
 at home for several years after being ex- 
 pelled from the gymnasium. During the 
 day I used to wander about our estate 
 with a book under my arm, or, fre- 
 quently, I would take my gun, and 
 bring home game for the table. Ivan 
 had built up a library of picked books, 
 so after supper, seated around the long 
 oak table, he read aloud. 
 
106 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Thus, during those quiet evenings of 
 reading and discussion, the friendship 
 between Father, Ivan, and myself be- 
 came one of the most vital ties in my 
 life. 
 
 While I was studying mathematics, 
 Ivan spent about one year and a half 
 studying music and literature. I still 
 have a book of Ivan's poems. He went 
 to Warsaw and took up music at the 
 Conservatory, and after remaining there 
 a year, he transferred to Petrograd, where 
 he continued his musical education. 
 While he was studying he became in- 
 terested in a model cheese factory, which 
 had been organized on special lines. This 
 appealed to him as being feasible for our 
 own estate, and he returned home to start 
 something similar in Luka-Barskaya. 
 
 The first problem was the organization 
 of a model farm, and he began with the 
 intensive cultivation of a stretch of about 
 fifty dessiatin, or one hundred and twelve 
 acres, which was the nucleus of the tilled 
 
CHOOSING A CAEEER 107 
 
 portion of the estate. His plan was to 
 help the ignorant moujiks by showing 
 them modern methods of agriculture. 
 
 I spent my next vacations working 
 with Ivan, and incidentally learning a 
 great deal about the life of the people. 
 I had always imagined that the moujik, 
 being accustomed to hard labor, did not 
 feel physical exhaustion, as did we who 
 were unused to physical work. 
 
 " Volodia," Ivan said, shaking me out 
 of my sleep before sunrise during the 
 summer vacations, " are you going with 
 me to haymaking ? " 
 
 "Yes," I answered, "I'll be with you 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 As the early morning sun rose, we 
 were on the field, together with the 
 peasants, each with his scythe, one a 
 certain distance back of the other. At 
 a signal everybody began work, and we 
 had to keep together. Although I was 
 very strong physically, a few hours of 
 this work soon exhausted me. At the 
 
108 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 end of the day I was nearly dead, and 
 realized that an overplus of physical 
 work absolutely prohibited mental ad- 
 vancement. 
 
 Unfortunately Ivan's attempt failed 
 because the people themselves were too 
 ignorant to support him, and also be- 
 cause he did not have enough money 
 with which to equip the undertaking. 
 Indeed it would have required years of 
 patient education to teach the moujiks a 
 system new to all their traditions, so our 
 estate continued to be worked as it had 
 been worked for many centuries, and 
 Ivan's versatile mind turned to the ques- 
 tion of organizing a colony, where he 
 could carry out his ideals. Later, this 
 crystallized into a plan for establishing 
 this colony in America and Ivan joined 
 me in Kiev to gather members for his 
 project. This plan fell through, as none 
 of the members would leave Russia. 
 
 Meanwhile, in my desire to help the 
 peasantry, I realized that I could do 
 
CHOOSING A GAEEEE 109 
 
 little for them by my study of mathe- 
 matics, so in 1869, three years after en- 
 tering the University, I changed my 
 faculty and began the study of medi- 
 cine, knowing that there was a great 
 need of doctors among the ignorant peas- 
 antry. Our student body had received a 
 strong impetus toward the organization 
 of literary clubs by the arrival of a num- 
 ber of medical students, who had been 
 expelled from the Medical Academy in 
 Petrograd. 
 
 Our new literary organizations multi- 
 plied so rapidly that it took up much of 
 our time to attend the meetings. We all 
 had our pet ideas, and spent much time 
 trying to convince each other. Many of 
 the ideas were absurd, all were extreme, 
 but they were honest and sincere. The 
 university students believed themselves 
 almost the prophets of a new age, and 
 many of them laid down their lives be- 
 cause of their eagerness to make the world 
 better for the downtrodden moujik. It 
 
110 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 was folly, of course, but it was a splendid 
 folly, and those college boys thought like 
 heroes and lived and died like heroes. 
 
 I was as much of a fanatic as any of 
 them, and my pet theory was that 
 physical labor was the only true kind of 
 work, and that if every one would live 
 simply and work with his hands, all the 
 evils that come from too great wealth 
 and from poverty would cease. We were 
 fanatical, just as the Crusaders were 
 fanatical. No one could advise us, for 
 we would not listen to more cautious 
 men. We thought them cowards to re- 
 fuse to join our plans, and did not trust 
 them with our secrets. 
 
 Believing as I did, I determined to 
 live up to my ideas. I gave up my 
 university course, though I had spent six 
 years there, three in the mathematics 
 faculty, and three in medicine, declaring 
 that there would be no college faculty 
 degrees in the new age when labor would 
 be all in all, and began my work of lead- 
 
CHOOSING A GAEEEE 111 
 
 ing the peasants to higher and better 
 things than their hard-working lot. 
 Meantime, I learned shoemaking as a 
 trade, that I might truly practise what I 
 preached. 
 
 I was never happier than then. It 
 was a time of wonder, of serene ideals 
 and of close comradeship with others 
 who only wished to help their fellow men. 
 Our plans were little more than dreams, 
 then, they were so vague and impracti- 
 cable, but no Knights of the Round Table 
 ever bore more nobly " the flower of a 
 blameless life " than my fellow idealists 
 of the University of Kiev. 
 
 Setting aside our rank as nobles, fore- 
 going every privilege, spending only the 
 money we earned, the university students 
 of that time sacrificed everything to this 
 cause. A trip that I made to Switzerland, 
 in company with Donetzky and a few 
 student friends, crystallized my ideas, and 
 I returned a revolutionist in the true 
 sense of the word. Looking back now, I 
 
112 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN BUSSIA 
 
 can hardly understand how we expected 
 to sway all Bussia set against us, small 
 handful as we were. Yes, it was a dream 
 that we could wipe out all class barriers, 
 and make the world anew, a dream that 
 may yet come true, but never, never in 
 my time. Every boy dreams that way, a 
 little ; we tried to make the dream come 
 true immediately. 
 
 Less than two months after my return 
 from Switzerland the threatening storm 
 broke over my head. I had been active 
 among our peasants at Luka-Barskaya, 
 stirring them up to a belief that in some 
 way they were being robbed of their 
 rights of " life, liberty, and the pursuit of 
 happiness." I had then gone so far that 
 I was preparing to organize the peasants 
 into a revolutionary army. I smile now 
 at our quixotic attempts, we were so few 
 and Russia so immense. But the day 
 had come whereupon I smiled no more. 
 The iron hand of power was already 
 knocking on the gate. 
 
CHOOSING A CAREER 113 
 
 Donetzky, who had remained abroad 
 after I had returned home, wrote to me 
 that he was on his way back to Russia, 
 and that he would come for a few days to 
 stay with us at Luka-Barskaya. 
 
 The shortest cut was along the railroad 
 line, which he followed, although it was 
 against the law. Misfortune tracked him, 
 for he encountered a gang of workmen in 
 charge of a foreman, who threatened him 
 with arrest. Knowing what was in the 
 package he carried, Donetzky did not dare 
 to risk arrest and search. There was only 
 one thing to do, and that was to run. He 
 started, and would have escaped easily, 
 but that he tripped on a railroad tie and 
 hurt his foot. He was caught and taken 
 to the nearest police station. 
 
 By an evil chance, at a place near his 
 attempted escape, a murder had just been 
 committed, so Donetzky, being a stranger, 
 was questioned very closely, and his 
 package was opened. It contained a 
 number of printed leaflets, addressed to 
 
114 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " Russian Revolutionists." The mere 
 possession of these was a crime in Russia. 
 
 " I've come from abroad," explained 
 Donetzky, " but I ran short of money, so 
 I was walking to Moscow." 
 
 His suit-case, left at the station, was 
 brought in, and when it was opened it 
 was found to contain hundreds and hun- 
 dreds of the revolutionary leaflets, as well 
 as a number of books. 
 
 On the fly-leaf of one of them was 
 written my name. 
 
 All this had happened about eight 
 versts (five and a half miles) from home, 
 so I knew nothing about it. 
 
 That night, about three A. M., I was 
 awakened by a light in my room. I 
 opened my eyes. Before me stood Father 
 with a lighted candle, and just behind 
 him stood the commissary of rural police 
 and a gendarme. 
 
 "Vladimir De Bogory Mokrievitch," 
 said the commissary, " a government 
 criminal, Donetzky, was caught to-day, 
 
CHOOSING A CAEEEE 115 
 
 and we have evidence against you. We 
 must search the house." 
 
 " Certainly," I responded calmly. 
 
 But through my mind rushed a bevy 
 of questions. I wondered if there were 
 any forbidden pamphlets in the house. 
 Fortunately Ivan and Mother were not 
 at home. 
 
 Nothing was found, so we all gathered 
 at daybreak around the long oak table, 
 where, with a steaming samovar, tea was 
 served during a drawing-up of the pa- 
 pers, which I had to sign. The commis- 
 sary, under the influence of the tea, be- 
 came communicative, and told me the 
 details of Donetzky's arrest. I immedi- 
 ately realized that his crime was a serious 
 one in the eyes of the Russian police, 
 and that it was an oversight on the part 
 of the commissary not to have arrested 
 me at once, for mere acquaintance with 
 Donetzky, under such circumstances, 
 would have been considered sufficient 
 cause for arrest. It was morning before 
 
116 WHEN I WAS A EOT IN RUSSIA 
 
 the police left our house, and then I de- 
 cided to vanish. 
 
 " I'm certain that the authorities will 
 rectify the commissary's slip/' I said to 
 Father, " and then they'll arrest me. I 
 must get away." 
 
 I spent that day in nervous apprehen- 
 sion, for I could not escape in the day- 
 time, as I feared the peasants might 
 have been instructed to watch my move- 
 ments, so I postponed my flight till 
 dark. 
 
 That night, after ten o'clock, I left the 
 home of my childhood and was driven 
 to a distant railroad station by our trusted 
 coachman, Stepan, where I took a train 
 to Kiev. Two days later the gendarmes 
 descended upon Luka-Barskaya. I was 
 gone. No one knew where I was. A se- 
 cret order for my arrest was sent broad- 
 cast, and I became a fugitive. I could 
 never again use my own passport. I could 
 not appear anywhere without forged 
 documents, but had to live with friends 
 
CHOOSING A GAEEEE 117 
 
 who could secrete me even from the jan- 
 itor, sometimes from their own servants. 
 
 I was an " illegal." I had become one 
 of the hunted. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT OF TERRORISM 
 
 ALTHOUGH Donetzky's only crime had 
 been that pamphlets dealing with the 
 life-conditions of the peasants and similar 
 so-called " revolutionary " writings were 
 found in his possession, he was taken to 
 Petrograd and condemned to five years' 
 imprisonment with hard labor. Ill-treat- 
 ment in the jail drove him insane, and 
 he was then sentenced to exile in Siberia, 
 where he died. 
 
 There were so many of those young, 
 gallant college boys, the manner of whose 
 death was tragic in its loneliness I 
 
 The " revolution " at this time was a 
 very simple affair. The government 
 would not allow us to read any books 
 except those which had been read and 
 approved by the ignorant local police. 
 118 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 119 
 
 The government would not allow any 
 criticism of any official. The govern- 
 ment would not allow a noble to live 
 otherwise than as a noble, or a peasant as 
 a peasant. To read a forbidden book was 
 " revolution/' to talk to a suspected per- 
 son was " revolution/ 7 to speak critically 
 of the Tsar or any official was " revolu- 
 tion/ 7 and punishable with Siberia, to 
 suggest that there should be public 
 schools was " revolution/ 7 for a noble to 
 enter a peasant's house and wear peas- 
 ant's clothes was "revolution/ 7 and at 
 every point were police spies, and the 
 dark cloud of suspicion hung over the 
 land. We believed in our " Holy Rus- 
 sia/ 7 and tried to work for a brighter 
 day. Therein lay our " crime. 77 
 
 With my return to Kiev I definitely 
 began my work of stirring up a revolu- 
 tion among the working people. I still 
 was full of my idea that brain work was 
 wrong and physical labor right, and since 
 we students already had a few friends 
 
120 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 among some of the men working in a 
 carpenter shop, I went to work in the 
 shop as a journeyman. Gradually I 
 acquired skill. I lived at first in the 
 " Kiev Commune," which was really a 
 revolutionary headquarters to which all 
 those nobles who were toiling among the 
 working people went when they were in 
 town, and remained there either a day or 
 a month, according to their need. It was 
 a wonderful home for us, homeless and 
 often persecuted as we were, and the only 
 question which was asked before admis- 
 sion was : 
 
 " Are you willing to go among the 
 peasants immediately ? " 
 
 If the answer was : " Yes, I'm willing," 
 " Then you are one of us," came the in- 
 evitable reply. 
 
 The questions of what was to be done 
 among the people, or why one wished to 
 do so, were not asked. 
 
 A few weeks after my arrival, when I 
 had my position in the shop, I went to 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 121 
 
 live in a small and unsavory room in the 
 poorest part of Kiev. There was really 
 no reason why we should give up all our 
 comforts and privileges, but this desire for 
 poverty was a part of the movement and 
 every one was eager for the sacrifice. It 
 produced marvelous types, this vast 
 struggle for an ideal, and attracted many 
 men who were noted for their brilliance 
 of mind. Sergius Kovalik was one of the 
 most versatile of this band of enthusiasts. 
 
 He gave his entire energies to organiz- 
 ing revolutionary societies among young 
 people in the different towns, and finally 
 gathered around him quite a group of 
 young enthusiasts. They all went to the 
 River Volga region, where they started an 
 effective movement against the govern- 
 ment. 
 
 In this Kovalik was helped by several 
 other famous revolutionaries, one of 
 whom, Voinaralsky, having means of his 
 own, was particularly helpful. They 
 organized trade training schools in which 
 
122 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 the revolutionaries, most of whom were 
 nobles, learned some trade preparatory to 
 going out among the peasants. They 
 kept secret headquarters, where revolu- 
 tionists could hide in safety when too 
 closely pursued by the police. Finally, 
 Voinaralsky went among the peasants, 
 and openly called them to rise against 
 the government and demand their rights. 
 He was so clever and so evasive that he be- 
 came almost a legend, and the whole net- 
 work of the Russian Police system could 
 not hold him in. But at last, years 
 later, he and his companions were caught 
 by the police and sentenced heavily as 
 the fomenters of a conspiracy against 
 the government. By that time the 
 revolution was becoming an organized 
 movement. But, as I have said, this was 
 years later. 
 
 One evening, even before Kovalik had 
 gone to the Volga, I came for a few hours' 
 chat at the Commune, and, as it was late, 
 I remained there over night, sleeping in 
 
A TERRORIST THUNDERBOLT 123 
 
 the kitchen. I was awakened in the 
 Corning by somebody shaking me, and 
 whispering rapidly : 
 
 " Quick, get up I The gendarmes are 
 searching here I " 
 
 It was fortunate for me that they had 
 begun with the other rooms, but still I 
 could not leave the apartment without 
 passing the police at the door. 
 
 A sudden inspiration came to me. I 
 was dressed like a working man, and in 
 the mornings it was usual for water-car- 
 riers to bring drinking water to the 
 houses. I quickly picked up an empty 
 pail that was standing in the kitchen 
 and calmly walked out of the apartment 
 past the police. They only glanced at 
 me, for the search was being made among 
 students, and I was dressed as a water- 
 carrier. As I passed them, I took off my 
 hat with a frightened peasant air. A 
 year later such a simple escape would 
 not have been possible, but the police 
 still had to learn their lesson. 
 
124 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 After some months' resultless work 
 among the carpenters, we opened a shoe- 
 making place, where we made our own 
 shoes. Kovalik and I started it, and I 
 was the head workman, for I knew some- 
 thing about the making of shoes. Many 
 of the revolutionists came to us to learn 
 the trade. But few of us had money, 
 and we thought it necessary to earn our 
 living. Accordingly, one of the men 
 went to the market with the product 
 of our little industry. 
 
 " Shoes like that were made in the 
 time of Peter the Great ! " shouted one 
 customer to whom he offered them. 
 
 After that we none of us dared to try 
 to sell them. The workmanship of the 
 shoes would have betrayed us, and since 
 the police were looking for me, and 
 Kovalik was also anxious to avoid any 
 questions, we had to give up our shoe- 
 making. 
 
 Our next plan was that we should go 
 among the peasants for the purpose of 
 
A TEEROEIST THUNDERBOLT 125 
 
 organizing small revolutionary upris- 
 ings. 
 
 We still held the mistaken idea that 
 the peasants were discontented with their 
 lot and anxious to revolt for better con- 
 ditions. Why none of us saw the fallacy 
 of this idea I do not know, unless it was 
 that we saw only what we wanted to see. 
 
 One of our comrades, Vassia, said he 
 knew something about dyeing, so five of 
 us dressed up as dyers and started walk- 
 ing through the villages. Again we had 
 made a mistake. We believed that the 
 peasants were suspicious of a man dressed 
 as a gentleman, or in the clothing of the 
 privileged classes, as we phrased it, so 
 we had obtained torn and shabby clothes. 
 Consequently peasants regarded us with 
 suspicion. We passed several nights with- 
 out any shelter. It was the rainy season, 
 and I often woke up soaked through to 
 the skin, cold and miserable. Vassia 
 boiled the dye, and one of us looked 
 for orders, of which we never got any, 
 
126 WHEN I WAS A EOT IN EUSSIA 
 
 for the peasants attended to the dyeing 
 themselves. We ate bread and fat for 
 our only diet. It was truly beyond en- 
 durance. Three of our companions gave 
 up from exhaustion, and only Stefano- 
 vich and I remained steadfast to the idea. 
 
 My next attempt to go among the 
 peasants took me to a railroad construc- 
 tion camp, where I worked for some 
 time, several other nobles also being at 
 work there in disguise. The famous 
 Katherine Breshkovsky at this time was 
 also wandering among the peasants. She 
 was finally tracked by spies, and sent to 
 jail, where she refused to tell her right 
 name, or to give any information. 
 
 Upon my return to Kiev I found 
 feverish excitement. Spies were watch- 
 ing everybody known to the police. The 
 situation finally became so acute that I 
 decided to escape abroad, but even this 
 was not such a simple matter, for all the 
 Kiev stations were swarming with spies, 
 many of whom knew me by sight. I 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDEEBOLT 127 
 
 found a gorgeous disguise as a workman. 
 I had a bright red shirt, with the ends 
 outside the trousers, and a belt, and high 
 boots reaching my knees. In this cos- 
 tume I left Kiev on foot to take a train 
 from a neighboring town, and so avoid 
 all the spies. I succeeded and was safe 
 for several months. 
 
 Nevertheless, Father and Mother were 
 constantly harassed, for I was being 
 sought for persistently and without rest. 
 For years the watch was never lifted 
 from my old home, and the police went 
 there frequently. My parents, now old, 
 had to sign a paper in which they agreed 
 never to leave Luka-Barskaya. 
 
 I came back again to Kiev, but it was 
 a desolate return. Over one thousand 
 revolutionists had been arrested, many 
 of them our best men and women, and 
 it was only chance that the few of us 
 who remained were still free. 
 
 Stefanovich and I finally decided to 
 start a revolutionary movement in the 
 
128 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Government of Kiev. We selected as 
 our trade the selling of tin articles, and 
 kept a horse and wagon. But we had no 
 money, and although we sold our goods, 
 they hardly covered the cost of keeping 
 the horse, which ate us out of house and 
 home. Gradually others joined our small 
 beginning. It developed later into a true 
 revolutionary rising. 
 
 Meanwhile, I started a new centre 
 among the peasants, and this time I 
 changed the old tactics. Instead of 
 wearing old and ragged clothing, I 
 dressed well, and instead of getting 
 false peasant passports, I lived with 
 one taken from a relative of mine who 
 had died. I found that the peasants 
 were much more anxious to listen to 
 me when they knew that I was edu- 
 cated and a noble, and I realized that 
 all these years had been vainly spent, 
 and hundreds of gallant young men and 
 heroic women had gone to Siberia over a 
 false and mistaken policy, yet our ideals 
 
CURFEW IK A RUSSIAN VILLAGE NEAR THE CITY OF KIEV. 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 129 
 
 held true. Then the work of organizing 
 riots began. One of our problems was 
 the arming of the peasants, and another 
 the purchase abroad of a printing-press 
 and smuggling it into Russia. 
 
 We only had thirty old revolvers, and 
 our next difficulty was the obtaining of 
 money for the buying of arms. In our 
 fanaticism it seemed simple. But, with- 
 out our knowledge, a spy had penetrated 
 into our organization. Some of us tried 
 to kill him, but failed. This led to his 
 giving out of a vast amount of informa- 
 tion, and, as he knew our headquarters 
 and all our work, at a moment's notice 
 we had to scatter broadcast. 
 
 To a forest outside Kharkov, as ap- 
 pointed, the dispersed members grad- 
 ually made their way. By marvellous 
 good fortune every one of us had es- 
 caped the clutches of the spies and the 
 gendarmes, and we met in full numbers 
 at the secret place. 
 
 I remember few things sadder in my 
 
130 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 life than that meeting. It remains in 
 my memory as the burying ground of 
 our illusions. There, with the flush of 
 excitement worn away, we looked at 
 each other and at the ruins of our 
 work. Some spoke eagerly of begin- 
 ning anew, but many of the others 
 showed not only that they had lost 
 heart, but that they had also lost faith. 
 Most of us had discovered the fallacy of 
 thinking that the moujiks were anxious 
 for a revolution, and we realized that it 
 was necessary to organize the reform of 
 Russia by different methods. 
 
 Referring to our failure, Ivan said to 
 me one day : 
 
 "We have failed because" we were too 
 far removed from the people. The gulf 
 between the nobles and the peasant 
 masses cannot be bridged by a mere 
 change of clothing and passports." 
 
 Heavy-hearted, many of us shattered 
 in health, shorn of the dreams that had 
 glorified our sufferings, we revolutionists 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDEEBOLT 131 
 
 went away from Kharkov. Broken men 
 and women, most of us with nowhere to 
 go, for none could return to homes, and 
 still and forever to be hiding as "sus- 
 pects," and all young, so young ! 
 
 While most of us were trying to find 
 some way to earn a living under forged 
 passports, the resolute three, Stefan- 
 ovich, Deutsch, and Bokhanovsky were 
 really organizing a small revolution, and 
 they used as headquarters a flat in a 
 small house on the outskirts of Kiev, 
 where we also kept our secret printing- 
 prefcs, on which we printed revolutionary 
 pamphlets. Through one of the peas- 
 ants, who was caught, the three were 
 betrayed, and all were arrested. Bokhan- 
 ovsky had the key to our rooms, and this 
 was confiscated, but since he would not 
 give the address, there was no danger of 
 discovery for some time. Still, the police 
 began scouring Kiev in the effort to locate 
 the lock into which this key fitted. As 
 this flat was a revolutionary headquar- 
 
132 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 ters, its location was not generally 
 known, and aside from the men in prison, 
 I was the only person who knew of it. It 
 was necessary to clear the house of the 
 press and any compromising papers. Al- 
 though I was in Odessa at this time, I 
 came immediately. Our main difficulty 
 was getting in, for we had no key. 
 
 For several days we discussed plans 
 for getting out the large printing-press. 
 We even found three burglars who were 
 willing to rob the house and get the 
 things out, but on the night set for the 
 attempt, the police must have suspected 
 something, for they started whistling, so 
 that we all had to run for our lives. 
 Then we sent a locksmith, who made an- 
 other key, and one of the revolutionists 
 came to the landlady and told her that 
 he was a relative of Bokhanovsky, who 
 had allowed him to enter the rooms and 
 live there. He had the key to prove the 
 truth of the story. We had the place 
 cleared in forty-eight hours and a few 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 133 
 
 days after that the police located the 
 house, but there was nothing in the 
 rooms. The gendarmes realized that the 
 place had been cleaned out, and began 
 looking for those who had done it. We 
 all scattered. 
 
 The arrest of these three of my com- 
 rades after the secret conclave in the 
 forest outside Kharkov marks the close 
 of the first period of the revolution, the 
 time when we believed that all we had to 
 do was to make the peasants understand 
 that we were ready to lead them into a 
 newer liberty and a life of greater happi- 
 ness. All this was the work of a hand- 
 ful of university students, full of the 
 mad enthusiasms of youth, and striving 
 to rid the country of the chains of an 
 old tradition. 
 
 Then came an even deeper and more 
 tragic note. A tall, fair young fellow, 
 always exceedingly well-dressed, moody, 
 but as lively as quicksilver, and the very 
 flush of energy, came to Kiev. This was 
 
134 WHEN I WAS A SOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Valerian Ossinsky. He reawakened 
 much of the old enthusiasm, for he had 
 the talent for organization and he had a 
 plan. Political freedom for every one he 
 craved, but this was a fearful " but " 
 he believed that the government should 
 be frightened into granting it. And this 
 fear should be created, not by a revolution 
 that attacked a system, but by the selec- 
 tion and killing of those brutal officials, 
 who had become tyrants of oppression. 
 They should know terror for themselves. 
 Sleeping or waking, at home or abroad, 
 the shadow of death should lie over them, 
 and the grisly spectre of Terror should 
 never leave them. 
 
 Thus Terrorism began. 
 
 Ossinsky's immediate concern in Kiev 
 was the organization of an escape for 
 our three comrades, Stefanovich, Deutsch 
 and Bokhanovsky. We were all helping, 
 and the first thing we did was to bribe a 
 keeper, so that we could safely exchange 
 letters with the imprisoned men. We 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDEEBOLT 135 
 
 were fearfully concerned about them, 
 because they had actually organized 
 secret fighting groups among the peas- 
 ants, and these had been discovered by 
 the police. 
 
 I was living with two comrades in a 
 small apartment at this time, and it was 
 here that Ossinsky came with the letters 
 from the prisoners. We discussed numer- 
 ous plans of escape until we finally set- 
 tled on one. Michel Frolenko, after much 
 trouble, obtained the position of helper 
 with the warden of the Kiev prison, where 
 our friends were incarcerated. His plan 
 was to work up till he obtained a position 
 which would enable him to liberate the 
 prisoners. 
 
 Meanwhile, little by little, the plans of 
 Terrorism gripped even the most peaceful 
 of our circle. I was opposed to it. At 
 our meetings each new outrage only made 
 our anger burn deeper. Most of it cen- 
 tered on Kotliarovsky, the head of an in- 
 vestigation among the peasants to find 
 
136 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 out the name of every noble who had 
 been fomenting trouble among them. 
 
 Even then, I doubt if Kotliarovsky 
 would have been attacked, but that once, 
 when a young girl revolutionist was ar- 
 rested, he ordered that she should be 
 searched by his men. I have said that 
 we were like knights of the olden time 
 and held respect to a woman as a foun- 
 dation stone in our ideals. It was when 
 the ignorant officials abused their power 
 and hurled insults at the heroic girl 
 students who had suffered with us in the 
 cause that they signed their own death 
 warrants. 
 
 On the night of February 28, 1878, I 
 was awakened by a tapping on my win- 
 dow, which looked out onto the street. 
 
 " Who is it? " I asked. 
 
 " Valerian/' said the voice outside, 
 softly. I let him and two of his comrades 
 in. Ossinsky came in softly, and look- 
 ing at me through his gold-rimmed glasses, 
 said in a quiet whisper : 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 137 
 
 " Kotliarovsky is killed ! " 
 
 I shivered. 
 
 " When? " I asked, dully. 
 
 "Just now . . we've come from 
 there." 
 
 In a few words he told that he had 
 shot the hated official in the street and 
 that he had fallen instantly. 
 
 " You're sleeping here? " I asked. 
 
 "Yes probably the streets are alive 
 with police now." 
 
 " Then go to bed we must put out the 
 light right away," I said. 
 
 We spread blankets and lay down. 
 
 Kotliarovsky was a brute, but no, I 
 could not make myself believe in Terror- 
 ism. I could not sleep. 
 
 Suddenly, in the distance, I heard the 
 regular beat of a drum. 
 
 " Rousing help," I thought to myself. 
 
 " Valerian, do you hear ? " I asked. 
 
 11 1 hear." 
 
 " Beating a drum," I said. 
 
 II Yes," 
 
138 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 The other two men went to sleep, but I 
 heard Ossinsky tossing restlessly hour 
 after hour. 
 
 The next day we found out that Kotliar- 
 ovsky had not even been wounded j the 
 shot had missed him and he had fallen 
 from sheer fright. The attempt roused 
 the town. In the name of the famous 
 Executive Committee we began printing 
 proclamations of a revolutionary charac- 
 ter, which we used to post all over Kiev 
 during the night. One of us was sent to 
 fifteen years' hard labor when caught 
 sticking up one of these posters. 
 
 By this time Frolenko had gained the 
 confidence of the warden, and we knew 
 that at the first vacancy, among the keep- 
 ers who held the keys, Frolenko would 
 obtain the position. Then he could 
 simply open the cell doors of our com- 
 rades. 
 
 Our next step was to get rid of a 
 keeper. We chose a drunkard, named 
 Ponomarenko. I dressed up as a rich 
 
A TERRORIST THUNDERBOLT 139 
 
 brandy distiller and went to one of the 
 good hotels. I sent him a message to 
 come and see me, and told him he had 
 been recommended to me by a man for 
 whom he had formerly worked. I of- 
 fered him work at my distillery, and he 
 could not resist the temptation. He told 
 me that he would resign from the prison, 
 and let me have his passport right away. 
 Since he could not get his passport from 
 the warden without resigning, when he 
 brought it to me next day, I knew the 
 way was clear for Frolenko. I gave 
 Ponomarenko some money, and told him 
 that I had a short trip to make, and that 
 he should wait to hear from me. 
 
 Our calculations worked out perfectly. 
 As soon as he left, Frolenko obtained the 
 position of keeper, and we began plan- 
 ning the flight. We decided that the best 
 way was for the prisoners to escape in 
 a boat down the River Dnieper, on which 
 Kiev stands. Then, at a sufficient dis- 
 tance from Kiev, they could take the train 
 
140 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 and escape. Some of us were entrusted 
 with the buying of provisions, for the 
 refugees could not leave the boat and be 
 seen anywhere, so they had to have a suf- 
 ficiency of food ; others had to buy a cart 
 and horse to take the men from the prison 
 to the river, and then we had to provide 
 them with clothing. 
 
 At last all was ready. That night 
 somebody knocked at my window. It 
 was Frolenko. 
 
 " Well ? What's happened ? " I show- 
 ered him with questions. 
 
 "They've escaped," he said, walking 
 calmly into my room. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Just as we had planned. I got the 
 keepers drunk, so they dozed off. I 
 opened the cell and took them out. At 
 the gate the watchman challenged us. I 
 told him that we were going off duty, 
 and he let us through. That's all." 
 
 I watched Frolenko as he told me this 
 simple story, and there was no trace of 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 141 
 
 excitement on his face, except that his 
 eyes burned a little. 
 
 " I took them to the river," he con- 
 tinued in answer to my questions, " and 
 you got an awful horse. My arms are 
 still sore from hammering the beast it 
 wouldn't run. Well, I suppose you'd 
 better give me the scissors I'll cut my 
 beard." 
 
 And Michel gave up the rest of the 
 night to changing his appearance. 
 
 Not in Kiev alone, but in Petrograd, in 
 Odessa, in all the larger towns of Russia, 
 Terrorism spread. Scarcely a day passed 
 without news of some outbreak planned, 
 or carried out. A gendarme officer named 
 Heiking, who had been especially active 
 in attacking us, was shot and killed by 
 Ossinsky and his friends. We printed a 
 proclamation stating that the killing of 
 Heiking and the escape of Stefanovitch, 
 Deutsch and Bokhanovsky were the work 
 of the " Executive Committee." 
 
 Kiev was in an uproar. It was felt that 
 
142 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 no official's life was safe. The gendarmes 
 were stirred to savage action. Every sus- 
 picious apartment was ransacked. 
 
 Above me lived two girl students. The 
 police broke into their rooms and searched. 
 I heard but there was nothing I could 
 do. Frolenko and the slayers of Heiking 
 were living with me, hidden, for I had 
 secured a false passport and was safe for 
 the time being. Besides, in a cupboard 
 in my rooms was a small printing-press. 
 
 Every day were arrests and more ar- 
 rests. Some were our comrades, many 
 were innocent. Several were hanged. 
 But the man who ordered the first hang- 
 ing was killed two days later. In every 
 town this happened. The Executive 
 Committee added new officials to its 
 death list, and paid the fatal price. 
 Slowly the net around us tightened. 
 Our days were numbered. The spies 
 added link to link of the chain ; they 
 gained admission even to the inner circle, 
 but we could not trace them. 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 143 
 
 The first blow was the arrest of Ossinsky 
 on January 24, 1879. Then came the fate- 
 ful day of February eleventh. It was a 
 Russian holiday, so we all gathered in 
 two houses to pass the evening. In the 
 first house where I lived, there was a 
 great number of revolutionists, Brantner 
 amongst many others. I had gone to 
 our other gathering place with the rest 
 of the revolutionists, among whom was 
 Sviridenko. 
 
 All were sitting quietly in my rooms, 
 when a knock came and a gendarme en- 
 tered. 
 
 " Is Gospodin (Mr.) De Bogory Mokrie- 
 vitch here ? " he asked. 
 
 " No there is no De Bogory Mokrie- 
 vitch here/' answered one of the men. 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 One of the comrades pulled out a re- 
 volver. 
 
 " Where is he ? " repeated the gen- 
 darme, backing toward the door, also 
 drawing his revolver and hammering 
 
144 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN HUSSIA 
 
 with his heel on the door. A dozen 
 gendarmes rushed in, and at the same 
 moment Brantner and another of the 
 revolutionists advanced with revolvers 
 drawn. It has never been known who 
 fired first. 
 
 There was a fusillade of shots. The 
 gendarmes wore armor, but one was 
 killed instantly by a bullet through 
 his head. The two foremost of my 
 comrades were mortally wounded, but 
 one of them, lying on the floor, shouted, 
 amid his agony : 
 
 " Attack them with knives, brothers I " 
 
 Brantner, though wounded, went on 
 shooting. The women revolutionists 
 hastily threw compromising documents 
 in the fire while the battle was going 
 on, while others, in the teeth of the 
 pistol fire, gave first aid to their dying 
 friends. The defense was too desperate 
 and the gendarmes finally gave way. 
 
 But escape was beyond hope. There 
 was a double ring of gendarmes around 
 
A TERRORIST THUNDERBOLT 145 
 
 the house. One of my wounded com- 
 rades reached the gate, where he col- 
 lapsed, and Brantner fainted from his 
 wound when trying to climb the wall 
 of the yard. More gendarmes came, so 
 many that defense was impossible. Still, 
 so terrible was that handful of men and 
 women in that little room that even the 
 soldiers were afraid to approach, and it 
 was only when the revolutionists agreed 
 not to fire that they were put under ar- 
 rest. 
 
 Brantner and the comrade near the 
 gate were found and sent to the hos- 
 pital with the two dying revolutionists. 
 The others were taken to the station 
 house. 
 
 Meanwhile we knew nothing about all 
 this until the door opened, and we found 
 a solid line of soldiers behind with fixed 
 bayonets. Fortunately, Sviridenko and 
 another man had left a few moments 
 before. 
 
 " Surrender," said a voice. 
 
146 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " We're not a fortress," I answered with 
 a smile. 
 
 " But your comrades " began the 
 
 officer. 
 
 I could not hear the rest of the sen- 
 tence, for the soldiers burst in, and 
 drowned his words. 
 
 He searched us all for arms, but we 
 had none, so we were taken to the police 
 station, where we came upon our com- 
 rades. From them I learned of the des- 
 perate affray. 
 
 Sviridenko, who had been caught on 
 the street, suddenly rushed in, with two 
 policemen helplessly dragging on behind. 
 
 " They're bound," he shouted, looking 
 at us all, and began untying the ropes that 
 bound us. 
 
 " Please calm yourself/' repeated the 
 police commissioner, unable to overcome 
 his obedience to a noble ; " we'll untie 
 them." 
 
 " I want water," shouted Sviridenko. 
 
 " Water do you hear ? quick, get 
 
A TEEROEIST THUNDERBOLT 147 
 
 some ! " ordered the commissioner, only 
 too eager to be obliging as long as his 
 orders were fulfilled. 
 
 It was many years ago, but I can still 
 see Sviridenko, with his pale face wreathed 
 in a mass of black, thick curly hair, bully- 
 ing the commissioner, who had us in his 
 power. 
 
 We were all taken to the Kiev jail. 
 Soon our two wounded comrades died in 
 the hospital and Brantner joined us. 
 
 The charges against us were very seri- 
 ous. Whereas some of us were held for 
 armed resistance and the killing of an 
 officer, others, such as myself, were con- 
 nected with many revolutionary under- 
 takings and had lived as " illegals." Spies 
 came to the prison from everywhere to 
 identify us, and even Ponomarenko was 
 brought to identify me as the wine dis- 
 tiller. I looked him straight in the eyes, 
 and I saw that he did not recognize me, 
 so perfect had been my disguise. 
 
 "We know all about it/' said the 
 
148 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 gendarme, trying to break down my 
 guard. 
 
 A woman who had been in the hotel 
 was asked to identify me. She looked at 
 me. I saw that she knew, but she only 
 said softly : 
 
 " I can't tell." 
 
 On April third we were taken to trial, 
 and forbidden the lawyers we wished. 
 We were all sentenced to fourteen years 
 and ten months hard labor, with the ex- 
 ception of Brantner and Sviridenko, who 
 were condemned to death for armed re- 
 sistance. 
 
 When the sentence was passed, one of 
 the women prisoners became hysterical. 
 The police rushed for water, and we all 
 rose from the benches on which we were 
 sitting. There was a general tumult. 
 The spectators also stood up, and some 
 even climbed on their chairs to see better. 
 
 "What are you looking at?" shouted 
 Sviridenko. " This is no theatre. It is a 
 disgrace to you making a show of death ! " 
 
A TEEEOEIST THUNDERBOLT 149 
 
 There was a hushed silence. All sat 
 down quickly, and ashamedly began 
 leaving the court as rapidly as possible. 
 
 Ossinsky was tried later and sentenced 
 to death. There was no hope. Our three 
 comrades were doomed. Sviridenko gave 
 a false name as he did not want his old 
 mother to know of his death. He 
 spoke about her to me many times, as 
 we sat on our cell windows. He died 
 under that false name, to save her a 
 heart-wrench. 
 
 I could not think of my comrades' 
 deaths, it seemed too terrible to be true. 
 The last night came. I climbed on the 
 window sill and sat there, pressed against 
 the iron bars, not daring to think of the 
 morrow. It was a warm night, and very 
 still. Everybody was quiet ; I think prob- 
 ably all were seated as I was. The only 
 sound was the voice of Ossinsky, as he 
 spoke to his betrothed, Sophia Leshern, 
 who was in the woman's prison across 
 the empty courtyard. 
 
150 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 " Four, five, seven, two, eight, zero ! " 
 he said rapidly, in the cipher we used. 
 
 She answered. 
 
 Ossinsky could not keep still. He 
 asked me to sing him Beranger's " Death 
 of a Corporal. " It is a song you may 
 know it of a death by shooting. 
 
 Ossinsky hoped but for one thing, that 
 he would be shot on the morrow; he 
 could not bring himself to think of the 
 scaffold. I sang it, though my throat was 
 wrung with choked-down tears. Twice 
 afterward during that night I sang it to 
 him again. 
 
 It was getting very late. 
 
 " Sonia ! " came Ossinsky's voice. 
 
 " Valerian ! " she answered. 
 
 No more was said. 
 
 Next morning . . . 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 
 
 SOON after the death of our comrades, 
 we had to prepare for our long journey 
 to Siberia, and not only to Siberia, but to 
 the mines. That meant incredible hard- 
 ship and insufferable cruelty for fourteen 
 years, for fourteen long, weary years. It 
 meant that most of us would die lonely 
 and neglected in a filthy prison cell. 
 And so many were so young, so young I 
 Fourteen years' hard labor in the Sibe- 
 rian mines, and for what? For trying 
 to bring greater freedom to our beloved 
 country. But that old hard, unseeing 
 Russia is going; Russia to-day, alert, 
 making vast strides to help her people, 
 building public schools by scores, with 
 huge government departments organized 
 to aid the peasants and bring them to 
 151 
 
152 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 greater values of life, is doing the work 
 that we began. Ossinsky did not die in 
 vain, and our dream is coming true. 
 
 Before leaving for Siberia, Ivan came 
 to see me and he slipped me a one- 
 hundred-rouble note. The keeper had 
 noticed it, so when Ivan had gone he in- 
 sisted on searching me. He looked every- 
 where, even in my hair and my mouth. 
 But he could find nothing, so finally, 
 very much puzzled, he let me return to 
 my cell. He never thought of looking 
 in the palm of my hand, where I had 
 been holding the money quietly all the 
 while. 
 
 We knew that we were going to Siberia, 
 although we did not know where we 
 were going to be sent. Of all the revolu- 
 tionaries with me, only two were not 
 nobles. These two were put in irons and 
 their hair was cut, but our rank saved us 
 from some of the miseries of the journey. 
 We traveled by train through Russia to 
 Nijni-Novgorod, where we were taken on 
 
MY ESCAPE FEOM SIBERIA 153 
 
 barges on the rivers Volga and Kama to 
 the town of Perm. In addition to our 
 party of political exiles there were also a 
 number of criminals, who were being 
 sent to Siberia. From there we went by 
 train to Ekaterinburg, and wherever we 
 went, I only thought and dreamed of my 
 escape. I had spent six years dodging 
 capture, and I was not going to take my 
 sentence lightly, without making one 
 last supreme effort to get away. 
 
 From Ekaterinburg we traveled in 
 vozoks, or small three-horse carts, with 
 one prisoner in each. Beside each polit- 
 ical exile sat a gendarme, armed with a 
 revolver and sword, and beside the driver 
 sat a soldier armed with a rifle. We 
 drove rapidly along the flat country, and 
 I thought with dread of the terrible 
 Siberian winters. Our vozoks with the 
 little bells tinkling on the harness moved 
 rapidly, one behind the other, along the 
 famous Siberian Tract, which all the 
 exiles used to pass. Several times I 
 
154 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 thought of escape, but we traveled with- 
 out stopping, sleeping in the vozok dur- 
 ing the nights. I could see no chance 
 of escape, for I was dressed in coarse grey 
 prison clothing, clumsily sewn, and this 
 would have instantly caused capture. 
 After several days of this travel we 
 were again taken still further east by 
 barge till we reached Surgut. At 
 Tomsk we were taken to the big prison, 
 on the walls of which we found the 
 names of the women revolutionists of our 
 group, who had been sentenced with us. 
 This was the first news we had of them, 
 and now we knew that they were travel- 
 ing ahead of us. We were hurried on 
 by vozok until we reached Krasnoyarsk, 
 the boundary town of Eastern Siberia. 
 We had left Russia and Western Siberia 
 behind us. 
 
 All during the journey we found the 
 authorities anxious to please the political 
 exiles and avoid trouble. As nobles 
 we obtained many privileges, and were 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 155 
 
 given fur coats when we asked for them 
 on the plea that we were cold at night. 
 We remained in Krasnoyarsk for some 
 weeks, awaiting further orders. 
 
 It was the end of August when six of 
 the political exiles, among whom I was 
 one, were ordered to proceed to Irkutsk 
 by the so-called " etape." In front came 
 several files of soldiers. Then walked 
 the criminals, of whom there were about 
 one hundred and eighty in irons. They 
 were being sent to exile, which meant 
 that they had to go to certain villages, and 
 there remain free, so long as they did not 
 try to leave the place. Behind them came 
 about fifteen wagons, in which were the 
 wives and children of the exiles. Next 
 followed a few wagons in which nobles, 
 who had been convicted as criminals, were 
 riding, for no noble was required to walk, 
 and we political exiles came last. A file 
 of soldiers walked on either side of this 
 procession, and there was a detachment 
 behind. 
 
156 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 Many of the criminals took off their 
 irons as soon as we left the town, and the 
 officers made no objection. Their orders 
 were strict, but there were many mutual 
 concessions made on the part of the 
 officers and prisoners. That evening we 
 came to the polu-etape, or half etape, 
 where there was a jail. We, as nobles, 
 were kept apart from the peasant pris- 
 oners, so that we slept under better and 
 cleaner conditions than the others. At 
 the end of the next day we reached the 
 etape, which differed from the polu-etape 
 only by being a little larger. 
 
 Studying carefully the make-up of the 
 party and the strong organization among 
 the criminal prisoners, which amounted 
 to a union, whose orders none dared dis- 
 obey, I first conceived my plan of escape. 
 The problem was not that of escape alone, 
 for that was comparatively easy. There 
 was not much difficulty in breaking 
 away and hiding in the primitive forests 
 through which we were traveling; the 
 
POLU-ETAPE. 
 
 KRASNOIARSK PRISON. 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 157 
 
 proolem was to live afterwards when the 
 dreaded " battue " had been organized, 
 the battue of Siberia, most thorough and 
 discouraging of all systems. Still we 
 were all set on an attempt, and it was 
 agreed that one of us would escape first 
 and organize the rescue of the others. 
 Vladislav Isbitzky was chosen for this 
 part. 
 
 Since the criminals were going into ex- 
 ile, and were sent to special villages, 
 where they would be freed, our plan was 
 to exchange places with them and under 
 their guise leave the party at the village 
 in which the peasant was supposed to set- 
 tle. The honor of the prisoners, due to 
 their organization, prevented them from 
 revealing the deception. Once in the vil- 
 lage it would be easy to escape. Mean- 
 while the criminal w r ould continue as a 
 political prisoner. When the deception 
 was discovered, it would not entail much 
 punishment for him, and this was more 
 than compensated by the reward (we gave 
 
158 WEEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 them money and clothing) which would 
 make his life much easier in the new 
 country. Besides this, for a peasant to 
 aid in freeing one of the revolutionist no- 
 bles, who was giving his life for the cause, 
 was a great honor. 
 
 After the escape, it was planned that 
 Isbitzky should travel ahead of us rapidly 
 enough to reach the polu-etape and there 
 make a secret tunnel to the prison, through 
 which we could all escape. We agreed 
 that he should leave chalk marks along 
 the telegraph poles, so that we might 
 know he was safely ahead of us. 
 
 The day of the exchange, as we left the 
 etape, sitting on our slow moving wagons, 
 we saw Isbitzky standing before an izba 
 in a bright red shirt, smiling. That was 
 the last time I saw him. For many days 
 we noted the marks on the poles, and then 
 they disappeared. After that we looked 
 in vain. Later, we learned that he had 
 to return to Tomsk for lack of money, 
 which he procured, and then started after 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 159 
 
 us. But delays occurred, and he did not 
 reach the party until it had arrived at its 
 destination, which was the silver mines 
 of Kara. His fate is unknown, for he 
 disappeared ; possibly he was killed by 
 robbers on the road. 
 
 Since the chalk marks had vanished, 
 we made other plans for the escape. I 
 found Pavlov, a criminal, willing to ex- 
 change with me. This was done with very 
 little trouble, and after that, I walked with 
 the criminals, sometimes with irons on 
 my feet. I suffered horribly, and almost 
 starved on the coarse and scanty food. 
 
 As we advanced, bread became scarce 
 and dear. Hunger marched in the grim 
 procession. The yellow parchment skin 
 of starvation showed on every face. We 
 walked with difficulty. The criminals 
 asked permission from the officers to sing 
 milostinia, the begging song, upon en- 
 tering the villages. This was granted. 
 So, when we came to villages, the basses 
 started the slow, melancholy chant to the 
 
160 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN EUSSIA 
 
 accompaniment of the clang of the irons 
 and the squeaking of the wagon wheels. 
 Several of the prisoners went from izba 
 to izba with bags, begging for food. In 
 nightmares I see that march again and 
 hear the slow drone of the starving men, 
 eager for a crust. 
 
 To famine was added typhoid, and as 
 the etape hospitals were scores of versts 
 apart, many of the men were placed on the 
 wagons when they became too ill to travel. 
 One man died on the way, and we traveled 
 with his body for many miles till we came 
 to the etape. 
 
 At last we reached the village at which 
 I was to be set free, with several other 
 men. I was examined, and, according to 
 the part of the criminal with whom I had 
 exchanged, I gave my name as Petrov and 
 my crime that of being a thief. So, with 
 the prison clothing, which became mine, 
 I was allowed to walk out with my fel- 
 low-criminals as a free man, free, but three 
 thousand miles from home, free only to 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 161 
 
 try to rescue my comrades. Still, I was 
 at liberty. 
 
 Free ! I could hardly believe it as I 
 walked down the street of the village. 
 The other prisoners all went to an inn 
 and I went with them, but I did not in- 
 tend to remain any length of time in 
 that village, for I feared that either 
 somebody might report the exchange 
 or tell of it at the first questioning. 
 I had no money, and only the address 
 of a friend exiled to a village that was 
 150 versts (100 miles) from my present 
 whereabouts. I could do no better than 
 go there. I sold some of the clothing I 
 had for a rouble and a half (seventy-five 
 cents), and after a night's rest in the inn, 
 started out early the next day. 
 
 I had a prison fur coat and cap to 
 match, trousers of grey cotton, prison 
 boots with leather gaiters. I had an 
 extra shirt and cotton trousers. That 
 was my entire baggage, and Siberian 
 winter was fast approaching, for it was 
 
162 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 the second day of November. My head 
 was cropped, but since prisoners trav- 
 eled, when there was no battue, openly 
 in Siberia, I was not afraid of the fact 
 that all could see I had been a convict. 
 
 I knew the direction I had to walk in, 
 and nothing more, so I started. But as I 
 walked through the dense forests I did 
 not have the feeling of freedom, for I 
 realized that I was just as far from free- 
 dom as before, for now I was at the 
 mercy of the Siberian elements. I spent 
 my nights in the village baths, and often, 
 since the peasants were all kindly dis- 
 posed to the convicts and helped them, 
 I had a warm bed. I used to buy a crust 
 of bread for a few kopecks, and the peas- 
 ants, knowing that I was an escaped con- 
 vict, sometimes gave it to me. Often the 
 peasants, themselves exiles, treated me to 
 a glass of tea. 
 
 After a weary journey I finally reached 
 the village in which my friend was sup- 
 posed to be. I knew which izba he oc- 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 163 
 
 copied, so I counted off the izbas, and en- 
 tered the one I had been told he lived in. 
 An old woman met me. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she asked. 
 
 " I'm looking for some exiles/ 7 I said. 
 " Nobles." 
 
 " There are lots of nobles, exiles/ 7 she 
 answered looking at me suspiciously. 
 
 Suddenly an inner door opened, and a 
 young woman came out. I knew imme- 
 diately that she was a " political " exile, 
 by her appearance first, and then by her 
 speech. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she asked, look- 
 ing at me. 
 
 " I have a little business/ 7 I said, com- 
 ing up to her, and gently pushing her 
 back into the room, so as to speak to 
 her not in the hearing of the old woman. 
 She spread her arms across the door jamb, 
 but finally fell back. 
 
 " What do you want ? 77 she repeated. 
 
 I was already in the room and I closed 
 the door behind me. 
 
164 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 " I'm De Bogory Mokrievitch," I said 
 in a whisper, "just escaped from the 
 party on the way." 
 
 " You De Bogory Mokrievitch 1 Oh ! " 
 she said. 
 
 " Have you heard about our trial ? " 
 
 She clasped her hands about my 
 arm. 
 
 " Tell me all, all ! " she said. 
 
 I cannot describe the excitement that 
 spread in this little house, and a neigh- 
 boring one, in which another political 
 exile lived. My friend was not in the 
 village, but by mere chance I had met 
 some other of the exiles. 
 
 I was freezing, and as a samovar stood 
 on the table, I had just sat down to drink 
 a glass of tea, when I was told that the 
 gendarmes had come to the village. I 
 had to escape. My new friends told me 
 how to leave the village, and where to 
 go, and added that a man, whose descrip- 
 tion they gave me, would catch up to me 
 on a sleigh and would take me to safety. 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 165 
 
 I had not a kopeck left, so they gave me 
 a rouble from their own scanty stores. 
 Thus, without a chance to change cloth- 
 ing or appearance, and knowing that I 
 looked like a veritable tramp, I had to 
 go. The police might not have come for 
 me, but I could take no chances. 
 
 The sleigh soon caught up with me, 
 and took me a big part of the way to 
 the village in which the man lived. He 
 agreed to hide me on condition that I 
 come to him at night, so that nobody 
 should see me come in. He told me 
 where his house was, and left me. 
 
 Then I learned and for a moment I 
 turned cold at the peril that the battue 
 was on. It is a good word that battue, 
 meaning as it does the rousing of a neigh- 
 borhood to drive and trap some wild beast 
 to his death. The battue was on for Is- 
 bitzky and for me, and also for a political 
 exile from a party traveling behind us, 
 who, however, by dallying one day too 
 long in the village of his exchange, was 
 
166 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN BUSSIA 
 
 later caught and sent on to the silver 
 mines at Kara. I have told you that Is- 
 bitzky disappeared. I was the wild beast 
 to be trapped. My description was sent 
 to every village over the two thousand 
 miles of desolation between where I was 
 and Russia. An order was issued that 
 every stranger, no matter if his passports 
 were in perfect order, should be arrested 
 and searched. To give me food or shelter 
 was a crime punishable with sentence to 
 the mines. And the Siberian winter was 
 at hand. There was but one thing to do, 
 and many of the villagers did that thing. 
 They would put food on the window 
 ledges for any starved passer-by. And 
 day by day the cold fell more intense, 
 the wind blew keener, and the snows of 
 Siberia began. 
 
 But the police were hot upon my trail. 
 The escape of De Bogory Mokrievitch was, 
 they thought, dangerous to the peace of 
 Russia. Siberia became as one vast eye 
 looking night and day, and looking for 
 
KEROEZ CHILDREN AT PLAY. 
 "Western Siberia. 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 167 
 
 me. An exile, who had given me a night's 
 shelter, gave me the address of a Polish 
 exile three villages away. Somehow, by 
 some mad power that must have been the 
 exhilaration of near-exhaustion, I reached 
 the village. It was midnight when I 
 knocked at his door. 
 
 The door opened. 
 
 " I'm De Bogory Mokrievitch," I said. 
 "Will you hide me?" 
 
 He stood aside to let me enter. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. 
 
 To this man I owe my safety. The 
 'fact that I spoke Polish was my salvation. 
 Once, when I was in this exile's store 
 he was keeping the village shop, he who 
 had owned a couple of thousand fam- 
 ilies of serfs before the emancipation 
 the police asked for my friend. I an- 
 swered in Polish that I knew very little 
 Russian and suspicion was averted for 
 the time. 
 
 The story of that hiding is told in 
 hours, not in days. A dozen times I was 
 
168 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 all but captured, but caution never slept, 
 and I was held safe among those Polish 
 exiles. Even to-day I dare not mention 
 names, for the penalty of helping a polit- 
 ical prisoner to escape is many years of 
 hard labor. I can only repay that kind- 
 ness by silence. 
 
 For one month and a half the battue 
 was in full operation. Every man along 
 the roads was arrested, every man who 
 had the insignia of the convict was stopped. 
 Nobody was allowed to pass by. At every 
 village special guards were stationed to 
 question strangers. Not a fly could have 
 crept through. I realized why even the 
 most hardened convicts regarded the bat- 
 tue with dread. 
 
 As soon as the first fervor of the battue 
 had abated, I decided to go to Irkutsk. 
 Here I organized the escape of five of my 
 old comrades from the Irkutsk jail by 
 means of a tunnel. I drove them in a 
 sled to safety, and I provided them with 
 provisions, so as to avoid their having to 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 169 
 
 enter any villages. Alas, all were caught, 
 although much later. 
 
 Few of us political prisoners had the 
 physique to withstand the terrible Siberian 
 winter, for we were of the nobility, and 
 unused to hardship. The escape created 
 great excitement, and again I had to seek 
 a hiding-place among strangers, and again 
 I was saved by the kindness of people. 
 
 I would not leave Siberia, however, 
 without one last attempt to rescue the men 
 and women of my own group, my old 
 comrades, who had already reached the 
 silver mines of Kara, to which I had 
 been destined. Well disguised, I bought 
 a horse and cart and became an itin- 
 erant merchant. This not only gave 
 me a living, which I had to earn, since I 
 had no money, but it also covered the real 
 reason for my distant journey. 
 
 Months later I reached Kara, and set- 
 tled there as a merchant. I lived in a 
 small house, close to the jail, for half a 
 year, making my plans for the escape. 
 
170 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 The unexpected happened. A party of 
 prisoners arrived, among whom was a 
 peasant criminal who knew me. To 
 curry favor he reported my presence. I 
 escaped by the rear window, as the police 
 battered in my door. This time a battue 
 was not ordered, as the authorities did not 
 want to admit that they had allowed so 
 dangerous a character as De Bogory Mok- 
 rievitch to live there five months unob- 
 served by them. 
 
 I had to admit at last that I could do 
 no more to help my comrades, for I was 
 too well known, and to take a chance on an- 
 other battue was unwise. So, with heavy 
 heart, I returned, knowing that I was 
 leaving Siberia and my comrades forever. 
 
 I traveled for many months, first on my 
 own horse, which I finally sold, then by 
 troika, hired from village to village. I 
 had lived one year in Siberia after my es- 
 cape, and now I was on my way back to 
 Russia. 
 , It was in February, 1881, that I arrived 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 171 
 
 in Moscow, and soon after that date, Alex- 
 ander II was killed by the Terrorists. I 
 had intended taking up revolutionary 
 work again, but I found that during my 
 absence ideas had changed, and that I 
 could not agree with the Terrorist plans 
 for the liberation of Russia. Ivan was in 
 prison and died there. The police activ- 
 ity became so great that I feared spies 
 who had known me might recognize me, 
 and I was obliged to escape again. I left 
 Russia then and went to Switzerland, an 
 exile from the country in which I was 
 born, and for which I sacrificed the best 
 years of my life. 
 
 In Switzerland I married a Russian 
 noblewoman, who had left her home in 
 order to study medicine. She had been 
 educated in the most exclusive of Russian 
 schools, called the Institutes, where the 
 girls were trained to be society women 
 and ladies of the Court. But she aspired 
 to a profession, with which ambition her 
 
172 WHEN I WAS A BOY IN RUSSIA 
 
 parents entirely disagreed, whereupon she 
 had left them and left Russia. We have 
 one daughter. 
 
 I lived in America and England for 
 some years, then went to Bulgaria, where 
 so many Russian exiles dwell. It seemed 
 nearer to Russia in this Slavic-speaking 
 country. My university training, so many 
 years set aside, served me in good stead, 
 and I became a civil engineer, in charge 
 of all the city planning and engineering 
 of several Bulgarian towns. My memoirs 
 were also written and first published in 
 Paris, but, after the revolution of 1905, 
 republished in Petrograd. 
 
 Luka-Barskaya ceased to be ours even 
 before my parents' death, and I never saw 
 the old home again. But though the am- 
 nesty of 1905 did not cover me and give 
 me the privilege of returning to Russia, I 
 live in banishment well enough content 
 that Ivan has not died in vain, nor am I 
 still an exile fruitlessly. It is beyond be- 
 lief how Russia has advanced, and many 
 
MY ESCAPE FROM SIBERIA 173 
 
 of my early dreams have been realized. 
 I think of Ivan, of Donetzky, of Ossinsky, 
 and my heart is very sore within me. I 
 look at Russia and I am well content. 
 
 THE END 
 
CHRISTMAS IN LEGEND AND STOUT 
 
 A Book for Boys and Girl* 
 
 Compiled by ELVA S. SMITH 
 
 Cataloguer of Children's Books, Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh, 
 
 and ALICE I. HAZELTINE 
 
 Supervisor of Children's Work, St. Louis Public Library 
 Illustrated from Famous Paintings Net, $i .50 ; Postpaid, $i .70 
 
 TN their experience in providing reading for 
 children, these trained and efficient li- 
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 "gracious time." The style and decoration 
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 " Clad in green, red and gold, the Christmas colors, comes this collection of 
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 birthday of the Son of Man. This is an interesting volume, full of the spirit 
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 " Perhaps the best and most comprehensive collection of good literature 
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 is this well-illustrated, clearly-written and plainly -printed book by two experts 
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 For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt 
 of price by the publishers 
 
 Lotkrop, Lee & Shepard Co. Boston 
 
American Heroes and Heroines 
 
 By PAULINE CARRINQTON BOUVE" Illustrated 
 
 I2mo Cloth $1.25 
 
 HHHIS book, which will tend directly toward 
 ( JL the making of patriotism in young Americans, 
 | contains some twenty brief, clever and attractive 
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 Bouv^ is well known as a writer both of fiction and 
 history, and her work in this case is admirable, 
 44 The style of the book for simplicity and clearness 
 of expression could hardly be excelled." Boston 
 Budget. 
 
 The Scarlet Patch 
 
 The Story of a Patriot Boy in the Mohawk Valley 
 
 By MARY E. Q. BRUSH Illustrated by GEORGE W. PICKNELL $1.25 
 "HPHE Scarlet Patch" was the badge of a Tory organization, and a 
 J. loyal patriot boy, Donald Bastien, is dismayed at learning that his 
 uncle, with whom he is a "bound boy," is secretly connected with this 
 treacherous band. Thrilling scenes follow in which a faithful Indian 
 figures prominently, and there is a vivid presentation of the school and 
 home life as well as the public affairs of those times. 
 
 ** A book that will be most valuable to the library of the young boy," Provi- 
 dence News. 
 
 Stories of Brave Old Times 
 
 Some Pen Pictures of Scenes Which 
 
 Took Place Previous to, or Connected 
 
 With, the American Revolution 
 
 By HELEN M. CLEVELAND Profusely illustra- 
 I ted Large I2mo Cloth $1.25 
 
 ris a book for every library, a book for 
 adults, and a book for the young. Per- 
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 ^cost of freedom so clearly before the young, 
 fconsequently is such a spur to patriotism. 
 
 " It can unqualifiedly be commended as a book for 
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 For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
 by the publishers, 
 
 LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 
 
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