at me for a while. Then, with that burst of candor which so often
surprises us in the Russians, he began:
"We are not children, after all, and neither you nor I is dancing to the
government music to which others are keeping time. We may, therefore,
talk it over calmly. Well, we have a great drum, with which there can be
no marching out of line. It drums. We have never as yet stopped our
payments, like France, Austria, or Turkey. We are, therefore, punctual
payers, hence we shall again secure money."
"Is this a serious argument?" I asked.
"God forbid!" was the answer. "We have paid to secure future credit. But
it seems that this policy of honest debtor is wiser than the occasional
discontinuance of payment, which allows some advance but involves the
loss of credit. We can always repeat to the public that wishes to buy
our bonds, 'Russia is honest; Russia pays; you need have no fear here of
shrinkage.' And so the public buys."
"But the banker must know that the liberality is not real," I rejoined.
"And if he does know it? Is it the banker's business to initiate the
public into the secret sciences? Do not forget that no government pays
to the world such commissions for loans as we do. Prussia pays one-half
per cent., Austria one and a half per cent., we pay three per cent.;
and, confidentially, it does not end with that, but the issuing banks
also get their six per cent., especially when they appear reluctant at
first. For what reason should a commission of three to six per cent. be
paid where the business is as bad as it is? It was Offenheim who said,
'You don't build railroads by moral maxims.' And high finance says that
dividends and bonuses are not paid with moral maxims."
"According to my perhaps unbusiness-like opinion, this is not much
better than stealing."
"Very unbusiness-like, indeed, my friend. The banking world needs no
Nietzsche to stand on the other side of good and evil. Ethics, like
religion, is only for the masses. Just calculate what a commission of
three to six per cent. means on a loan of five hundred to a thousand
million rubles that we shall surely need in this war. Let us say only
three per cent., officially. That means thirty millions--more than sixty
million marks. Do you then think that the banks belong to the Salvation
Army, to imagine that they should renounce such a transaction?"
"Slowly, slowly. You said at first that Russia will need in this war
about a milliard rubles. That would be contrary to what I have heard
from other very reliable sources--namely, that the cash reserve is
supposedly equal to about a milliard rubles."
"I will bet you that in three months we shall not have left a single
kopek of this milliard, assuming that it exists. In agreement with
military experts, who, between ourselves, are not at all optimistic, I
estimate the duration of this war at twelve to eighteen months at least.
With our management, every month costs us at least a hundred million
rubles. Thus you see that a milliard will not be sufficient."
"Well, let us say that the banks cannot reject the business, still they
must, in the first place, dispose of the securities, which will not be
so easy, since the French are thoroughly satiated with the bonds, and,
as the fall in the rate of exchange has recently shown, confidence in
these bonds is no longer any too great."
"They may drop still further," said the banker, smiling. "The fall in
the rate of exchange would have been still worse had not our banks
received a strict order not to turn over the deposited bonds to their
owners during these days of convulsion."
"How? I do not understand this. The issue of the deposited securities to
their owners is delayed?"
"Yes, my friend, that is being done. You again do me the honor to forget
in my office that we are in Russia. Even worse things are done here. At
the order of the minister of finance, the owners of the bonds who wish
to withdraw their deposits are given only a few hundreds or thousands of
rubles for the most pressing needs, but they do not get their bonds.
This is in order to prevent, by all means, the bonds being thrown on the
market and thus increasing the panic."
"But that can be done only here. You have no such power abroad."
"Well, the first alarm did cost a respectable sum. Then the foreign
bondholders came to the rescue and intervened for their own interest.
The price of the bonds was maintained, especially in Germany."
"Why particularly in Germany?"
"Because it fluctuates less in France. There it is in the hands of small
investors who do not run to the treasury at the first opportunity. It is
not as strongly intrenched in Germany, and must be supported there."
"Very well, then, you support my reasoning, and you say that the bond
values are maintained artificially alone. How can you say, then, that
they may be augmented at will by new issues?"
"I say that, because the buyers are an amorphous mass that crystallizes
just as little as a combination of producers is met by a combination of
consumers. The masses may be frightened for a while, but in the long run
they are irresistibly led to spoliation by the great combinations of
capital, and the act of creating current opinion is well known in high
financial circles."
"You forget the independent press."
The banker made a very peculiar grimace. Then he said: "That is not nice
of you. I am speaking to you as if to a member of the profession--like
one augur to another. And when we come to speak of your own profession,
you turn out to be a simpleton. How can you speak of an independent
press, when under the pressure of the high finance of the Russian and
German governments?"
"You will pardon me. I honor your uprightness equally with that of the
greatest of my profession. But I must stop at that. Newspapers are still
guided by morality. And I am willing to bet anything that among our
German papers only a vanishing fraction is susceptible to the arguments
of Witte and his associates."
"And what becomes, then, of the millions that our ministry of finance
is spending to secure good will in the papers towards our finances?"
"I do not want to suspect any one; but the German papers that I know
well are incorruptible."
"Well, let us say that the radical or socialistic press is inaccessible,
and cannot be bought either by our ministry of finance or by the German
bank combinations. There still remains the influence of the German
government, that has its reasons for not allowing the weakening of
Russia to too great an extent. For this is still the keystone of the
conservative system in Europe, and this influence suffices to keep the
unfriendly critics of our financial conditions from all the leading
German papers. That is not even an official favor. I consider it quite
logical for serious papers not to play mean tricks on their foreign
office. But as to the other, the extremely radical writings, they have
no significance for the financial world; and you will not doubt, at this
day, that Germany is doing her best to keep us in good humor."
"Yes, I see with shame and resentment how the German government has been
transformed into something akin to a Russian police ally, with the
blessing of Count Bülow."
"Who surely knows what he is doing."
"Perhaps I myself do not believe that Germany has reason to seek Russian
security, even though there be certain limits even for friendly
services; which limits have long been passed, to the detriment of the
dignity of the German empire."
"I am also willing to believe all that you have told me about the
influence of the high finance, the Russian noble, and German diplomacy.
Yet I cannot conceive how the mass of investors--and after all it is
they who are to be considered--will permanently pay a much higher price
for securities than corresponds to their intrinsic value, as is the case
with the Russian securities, according to the information given me by
Russian statesmen."
"Permanently? Some day it will stop. But when? Even the autocracy or the
social structure will not maintain itself permanently. But meanwhile
there is no power on earth to prevent the great banking institutions
from earning thirty million rubles or more, when there is a chance.
There will be a great bargaining, especially since the French government
will exert itself strenuously to prevent future issue of Russian bonds;
for every new issue depresses the value of former issues, and in these a
great portion of the French national wealth is invested. In the end,
however, German influence will prevail. Germany will advance us the new
funds, because Germany wishes to render us a service; for Germany feels
itself from day to day more and more isolated in Europe, and we are
still not to be despised, either as friends or enemies, in spite of Port
Arthur. Hence the German investor must help out; and, after all, he is
not making a bad transaction when he buys a four-per-cent. bond at let
us say ninety."
"How so?"
"Well, the bank interest is now three per cent. When four rubles are
paid on an investment of ninety rubles having a par value of one hundred
rubles, then the valuation of Russian government securities is not quite
seventy. And that may continue for a long time."
"Do you consider that the real, intrinsic value?"
"The stock exchange knows no intrinsic value. It only knows tendencies.
One hundred rubles' worth of Russian government securities can always be
disposed of at seventy, if all the strings do not break."
"You are evading me. I asked for your personal opinion on the intrinsic
value of the Russian bonds."
"I will give you an answer. As long as our Russian peasant is able to
starve and to sell his grain, as long as there are gendarmes to aid the
tax-collector, and people who are willing to make further loans to us,
so long is the payment of coupons assured. Beyond that the foreign
bondholder has no right to inquire."
"Please tell me whether in your opinion there is a hidden deficit in the
Russian budget, or whether there is none."
"I am telling you that as long as there are people who are willing to
make further loans to us we shall pay the interest. Were our budget a
real one, we should not need to contract new debts in order to pay the
interest on the old ones."
"That is what I wanted to know. And do you consider Russia a really
insolvent country, that cannot really pay its debts, and cannot bear the
burdens of modern national life?"
"On the contrary, Russia is intrinsically so rich a land in uncovered
treasures that it only needs another and a just régime to pay its debts
and to assume still further burdens."
"And this other régime?"
The banker pointed to the east. "Our future is being decided there. If
it goes hard with us there, it may become better here more quickly than
is suspected."
"Hence, worse for the bankers," said I, jokingly.
"People accustom themselves to honesty when there is no other way,"
answered the banker, also jokingly. "And when universal honesty comes
into vogue, it will no longer be a shame to be honest."
With this I parted from the banker, whose pleasing cynicism always
amused me, the more so since I recognized in him the essence of
sterling, honorable views. Later interviews with other members of the
financial world showed me that my first informant conveyed the generally
accepted opinion. Isolated Germany will, for political reasons, and as a
favor to the Russian régime, support Russian credit; the great German
banks will not renounce the splendid loan-issuing business; and the
German investor will permit the imposition upon him of the Russian
bonds. "Sheep must be shorn," coolly said one of the brokers to me, when
I expressed a doubt that the German imperial government would pay for
its political business with the hard-earned pennies of its investors.
Your Bismarck did not hesitate for a moment to throw Russian values into
the street, and to destroy thereby milliards of German property, when it
suited his political convenience. Your present government will not be at
all embarrassed in sacrificing again milliards of German property to
place us under obligation. And, finally, no one is compelled to it.
Whoever is not able to figure sufficiently to see how Wishnegradski
prepared the balances to deceive the eye had better keep his money in
his stocking and not buy securities. If he does buy them, let him bleed.
Another explained, however: "The Germans will buy our bonds. When no
other bait is attractive there is still one left to us. When the
landowner sells his crops, and is thinking of investing his proceeds,
the banker will say to him, 'How about a little of the Russian
securities?' 'But those are supposed to be insecure,' answers the good
fellow. 'The idea! This is only a Jewish trick. Probably on account of
Kishinef.' And the good fellow will hand over his shekels, for he cannot
be fooled about Kishinef."
XIV
A FUNERAL
"You are here at an opportune moment," said one of my St. Petersburg
friends, who had rendered me important services in my studies.
"Mikhailovski died suddenly, and will be buried to-morrow."
"Mikhailovski?" I was almost ashamed to admit that I was entirely
ignorant of the services of this man, and did not understand what
interest his funeral could have for me. My friend had pronounced the
name as if no tolerably well-educated person in all the wide world could
have the least doubt as to its significance. I had to acknowledge again
how little we, in the West, know of Russian life. I am not of the people
who have read least about Russia, but Mikhailovski's name was as
unfamiliar to me as that of Julius Rodenberg to a Chinaman.
My friend enlightened me. Mikhailovski was the editor of the most widely
read Russian monthly, _Ruskoye Bogatstvo_ (Russian Wealth), a
sociologist, and the recognized intellectual leader of radical young
Russia. Nowhere in the world do the weekly and monthly magazines play
such a rôle in the intellectual life of a nation as in the great Slavic
empire. This may be accounted for, on the one hand, by the meagre
development of the daily press, existing under strict censorship, and on
the other by the high degree of scientific and practical development.
The nation is still in a state of nature, and for such a nation there is
really but one vocation--that of general education. This need of general
culture is in accordance with the general modelling of Russian social
life. There is very extensive and fruitful social intercourse; visitors
on estates remain for weeks. This requires a periodically renewed supply
of topics for conversation. And, finally, the nation is in a state of
high political tension. Parliamentary debates wherein this political
tension may be discharged are entirely lacking. Thus there remains only
the home-bred discussions, which, again, are fed only by the reviews.
Thus it happens that the weekly and monthly publications serve at once
as books, newspapers, and parliaments, and that the greatest writers are
enrolled either as contributors or editors on the staffs of the reviews.
Mikhailovski, however, was jointly with the writer Korolenko the editor
of the greatest radical monthly; a man who was the object of a reverence
such as is only accorded in the West to a great orator or party leader.
"Plehve is a lucky dog," continued my friend. "The outbreak of the war
has forced the entire Russian opposition camp into an armistice. It
would be considered unpatriotic to create internal difficulties for the
government, that needs all its power for an external conflict. It is at
least intended to see whether there would be any new provocations on
Plehve's part before further steps are taken in the organization of the
opposition. At any other time an occasion like Mikhailovski's funeral
would lead to great demonstrations and collisions with the Cossacks. Now
it will only amount to expressions of devotion; and it is quite probable
also that the police will avoid a collision. Hence, you may take part
without danger in a demonstration by intellectual St. Petersburg, where,
at any other time, you would be exposed at least to a few blows of the
knout or a temporary arrest at the police station."
"Why do you speak of the knout and the Cossacks?" I asked. "Are not the
police sufficient to maintain order?"
"They are not sufficient in mass-demonstrations, especially where these
are participated in by the student body. Formerly use was made of the
"dvorniks" (janitors) and butchers' clerks to bring the students to
reason. But that is no longer practicable. The "dvorniks" and butchers'
clerks have hesitated of late to come out against the students. They
have discovered that these persons really take their lives in their
hands for the people's sake, and, therefore, are no longer willing to do
the jailer's work. And so the Cossacks must hold forth; and they know no
pity."
We therefore agreed to meet in front of the deceased publicist's house.
Such a Russian funeral is a full day's work. It begins early in the
forenoon, and it is dark when you return home. In front of
Mikhailovski's house I saw Korolenko--a still robust man, with very
curly gray hair and beard--and almost all the master-minds of the
intellectual life of St. Petersburg. Even the recently retired minister,
Sänger, showed himself. Many a man was named to me with great reverence.
The foreign public knows not one of them, and so I may forego the
repetition of their names. It should be mentioned here, however, that in
Russia a distinguished man tries to show his distinction by his dress
and appearance, as far as possible. Here an original way of dressing the
hair is one of the marks of distinction, and so one sees many striking
heads. There is no getting along without some posing. I noticed, too,
that scarcely one of the forty or fifty men I had become acquainted with
was absent from the funeral. Now, these forty or fifty persons belong to
most widely different social and political groups, so that the radical
publicist could not have possibly had the same significance for each of
them. But every one was present and was noticed. In fact, every new
appearance was noted by the crowd. Most of them knew one another. The
loose but yet effective organization of opposition in Russia had never
been so clear to me as now. The unwritten public opinion, I had
frequently noted, orders every intellectual to take part in this mute
demonstration against the régime; and this dictation is more readily
submitted to than the legitimate one. I do not believe our newspapers in
the West could even approximately replace this intimate contact
established day by day among these thousands in a manner mysterious to
me. It is as if St. Petersburg were fermented by some medium in which
every impulse is propagated with furious speed. And people have an
incredible amount of time for politics in St. Petersburg. People in
Russia have in general more time than we hurrying Westerners can
conceive.
The coffin was carried from the house, where a religious service had
already taken place, to the church across the street, and there a new
service was begun. The church was so quickly filled that hundreds had to
remain outside. But I was advised by my companion to go to the cemetery;
for the funeral proper takes place only there, and it is of importance
to secure a good place. We attended to various matters in the city, and
reached, after more than a half-hour's ride in the sleigh, the cemetery
where rest the city's celebrities. Names are again mentioned to me with
respect and reverence. What an unsubstantial thing is fame, after all.
The few sounds that fill one with awe fall on the unheeding ear of
another. Another sphere, and nothing remains of the words that are
esteemed in the first.
We stamp through the snow along the narrow paths between the
gravestones towards the spot where the deceased is to find his last
resting-place. A densely packed multitude is already pushing towards the
newly dug grave. Near-by a mausoleum, with open portico, is already
entirely occupied by women. We attempt to find a place there. We are met
by hostile glances. Then one of the ladies approaches me and says
something in Russian, which, of course, I do not understand. I express
my regrets in German and French. She now excuses herself, declaring that
she had made a mistake. A word from my companion, and the excitement is
at once allayed.
"It was nothing," he explained to me. "They did not know whether you
were a spy or a foreigner. They know it now, and are no longer uneasy.
People know one another in this circle. But you are an entirely new
person that must first be classified." Evidently my companion played a
prominent part in this society without statutes, for a place was made
for me with the greatest readiness; so that I found myself among none
but celebrities, whose names were mentioned by the young ladies standing
near in respectful whispers. They were mostly writers, scholars, and
professors; among them was also the author of a work on Siberia, which I
had read with horror years ago. He had already spent twelve years of his
life in exile, and now he was again exposing himself to oppression by
the authorities. Although the police were still out of sight, it would
have hardly been advisable for a spy to appear here. Among the thousands
of men, women, and girls who were already densely crowded about the
grave, there was not a single person that was not acquainted with at
least a part of those present. Suddenly there was a commotion in the
crowd. A name is mentioned and repeated resentfully. Suvorin. Who is
Suvorin? The editor of the _Novoye Vremya_. He was supposedly seen by
some one. What impudence! Where is he? He shall at once leave the
cemetery! But it was only a false alarm. Suvorin would not dare to come
here; and why not? I inquire about the nature of his paper. Is it a
_Libre Parole_ or _Intransigeant_? Is it nationalistic or clerical? An
old gentleman who hears my question replies, turning towards me:
"No-ism, scoundrelism." I see how the word is winged and is approvingly
repeated in a widening circle. Yes, the most widely circulated sheet in
Russia, which enjoys government patronage and the best and most
authentic news from all the departments, is branded here with the
deepest contempt by the flower of Russian intelligence as a
well-poisoner, a worthless cynic. Russia is surely a remarkable land, it
does not grant a license for baseness even to anti-Semitism. The hours
follow one another. The snow under our feet had turned to water, and
then again to ice, but it is no longer possible to leave one's place. We
are ranged shoulder to shoulder, the men scarcely able to make room
enough for the women to keep them from being crushed against the trees
and gravestones. An elderly woman, with remarkably delicate features,
and wrapped in a thin cloak, is standing quite near me. She has been
here since ten o'clock this morning--that is, more than four hours. I
feel almost ashamed of my fur coat and my felt overshoes when I see that
bit of intelligent poverty standing near me. My neighbor and myself
succeed, without her noticing it, in placing her between our coats, so
that she might feel somewhat warmer. And thus thousands of women and
girls are standing, old and young, down to the unsophisticated
school-girl, pretty and homely, all of them patient and orderly; and
what impressed me especially was the absence of the least trace of
flirting between the men and women students. All of them were possessed
by one sentiment--by political passion and the yearning for freedom. I
am not foolish enough to think that in Russia erotic tendencies are
eliminated in the intercourse between the youth of the opposite sexes,
but nothing of it is noticeable here, and I must assume from this that
frivolity and cynicism have no abode in this generation. All those who
are standing here run the gantlet of imprisonment and deportation, and
frivolous thoughts have no room here.