Russians and Frenchmen have lived for many centuries, knowing one
another, entering with one another at times into friendly, more
often, I am sorry to say, into very hostile relations, which have
been provoked by their governments; suddenly, because two years
ago a French squadron arrived at Kronstadt, and the officers of
the squadron, upon landing, ate and drank a lot of wine in various
places, hearing and uttering upon these occasions many lying and
stupid words, and because, in the year 1893, a similar Russian
squadron arrived at Toulon, and the officers of the Russian squadron
ate and drank a lot in Paris, hearing and uttering upon that
occasion more lying and stupid words than before, it happened that
not only the men who ate, drank, and talked, but even those who
were present, and even those who were not present, but only heard
and read of it in newspapers, all these millions of Russians and
Frenchmen suddenly imagined that they somehow were particularly in
love with one another, that is, that all the French loved all the
Russians, and all the Russians loved all the French.
These sentiments were last October expressed in France in a most
unusual manner.
Here is the way the reception of the Russian sailors is described in
the _Rural Messenger_, a newspaper which collects its information
from all the others:
"At the meeting of the Russian and French vessels, both, besides the
salvos of guns, greeted one another with hearty, ecstatic shouts,
'Hurrah,' 'Long live Russia,' 'Long live France!'
"These were joined by bands of music (which came on many private
steamers), playing the Russian hymn, 'God save the Tsar,' and the
French Marseillaise; the public on the private vessels waved their
hats, flags, handkerchiefs, and bouquets; on many barques there were
peasants with their wives and children, and they all had bouquets in
their hands, and even the children waved the bouquets and shouted
at the top of their voices, '_Vive la Russie!_' Our sailors, upon
seeing such national transport, were unable to restrain their
tears....
"In the harbour all the ships-of-war which were then at Toulon were
drawn out in two lines, and our squadron passed between them; in
front was the ironclad of the admiralty, and this was followed by
the rest. There ensued a most solemn minute.
"On the Russian ironclad, fifteen salvos were fired in honour of
the French squadron, and a French ironclad replied with double
the number, with thirty salvos. From the French vessels thundered
the sounds of the Russian hymn. The French sailors climbed up on
the sail-yards and masts; loud exclamations of greeting proceeded
uninterruptedly from the two squadrons and from the private
vessels; the caps of the sailors, the hats and handkerchiefs of
the public,--all were thrown up triumphantly in honour of the dear
guests. On all sides, on the water and on the shore, there boomed
one common call, 'Long live Russia! Long live France!'
"In conformity with naval law, Admiral Avelán and the officers of
his staff landed, in order to greet the local authorities. On the
quay the Russian sailors were met by the chief marine staff of
France and the superior officers of the port of Toulon. There ensued
a universal friendly hand-shaking, accompanied by the boom of cannon
and the ringing of bells. A band of marine music played the hymn
'God save the Tsar,' drowned by the thunderous shouts of the public,
'Long live the Tsar! Long live Russia!' These exclamations blended
into one mighty sound, which drowned the music and the salvos from
the guns.
"Eye-witnesses declare that at this moment the enthusiasm of the
innumerable mass of people reached its highest limits, and that it
is impossible to express in words with what sensations the hearts
of all those present were filled. Admiral Avelán, with bared head,
and accompanied by Russian and French officers, directed his steps
to the building of the Marine Office, where the French minister of
marine was waiting for him.
"In receiving the admiral, the minister said: 'Kronstadt and Toulon
are two places which bear witness to the sympathy between the
Russian and the French nations; you will everywhere be met as dear
friends. The government and all of France welcome you upon your
arrival and that of your companions, who represent a great and noble
nation.'
"The admiral replied that he was not able to express all his
gratitude. 'The Russian squadron and all of Russia,' he said, 'will
remember the reception you have given us.'
"After a short conversation, the admiral, saying good-bye to the
minister, a second time thanked him for the reception, and added, 'I
do not want to part from you before pronouncing those words which
are imprinted in all Russian hearts: "Long live France!"'" (_Rural
Messenger_, 1893, No. 41.)
Such was the meeting at Toulon. In Paris the meeting and the
celebrations were more remarkable still.
Here is the way the meeting in Paris was described in the
newspapers: "All eyes were directed to the Boulevard des Italiens,
whence the Russian sailors were to appear. Finally the boom of
a whole hurricane of exclamations and applauses is heard in the
distance. The boom grows stronger and more audible. The hurricane is
apparently approaching. A mighty motion takes place on the square.
Policemen rush forward to clear a path toward the Cercle Militaire,
but this is by no means an easy task. There is an incredible crush
and pressure in the crowd.... Finally the head of the procession
appears in the square. At the same moment a deafening shout, '_Vive
la Russie! Vive les Russes!_' rises over it. All bare their heads,
the public, packed close in the windows, on the balconies, perched
even on the roofs, wave handkerchiefs, flags, and hats, applaud
madly, and from the windows of the upper stories throw clouds of
small many-coloured cockades. A whole sea of handkerchiefs, hats,
and flags surges above the heads of the crowd in the square: '_Vive
la Russie! Vive les Russes!_' shouts this mass of one hundred
thousand people, trying to get a look at the dear guests, extending
their hands to them, and in every way expressing their sympathies"
(_New Time_).
Another correspondent writes that the transport of the crowd
bordered on delirium. A Russian publicist, who was in Paris at
that time, describes this entrance of the sailors in the following
manner: "They tell the truth,--it was an incident of world-wide
import, wondrous, touching, soul-stirring, making the heart quiver
with that love which discerns the brothers in men, and which
detests bloodshed and concomitant acts of violence, the tearing
away of the children from their beloved mother. I have been in
some kind of an intoxication for several hours. I felt so strange,
and even so weak, as I stood at the station of the Lyons Railway,
among the representatives of the French administration in their
gold-embroidered uniforms, among the members of the municipality
in full dress, and heard the shouts, '_Vive la Russie! Vive le
Czar!_' and our national hymn, which was played several times in
succession. Where am I? What has happened? What magic stream has
united all this into one feeling, into one mind? Does one not feel
here the presence of the God of love and brotherhood, the presence
of something higher, something ideal, which descends upon men only
in lofty moments? The heart is so full of something beautiful and
pure and exalted, that the pen is not able to express it all. Words
pale before what I saw, what I felt. It is not transport,--the word
is too banal,--it is something better than transport. It is more
picturesque, profounder, more joyous, more varied. It is impossible
to describe what happened at the Cercle Militaire, when Admiral
Avelán appeared on the balcony of a second story. Words will not
tell anything here. During the Te Deum, when the choristers sang
in the church 'Save, O Lord, thy people,' there burst through the
open door the solemn sounds of the Marseillaise, which was played in
the street by an orchestra of wind-instruments. There was something
astounding and inexpressible in the impression conveyed" (_New
Time_, October, 1893).