During my journey I had bought a number of books and collections of
socialist newspapers. In Russia such books were ‘unconditionally
prohibited’ by censorship; and some of the collections of newspapers
and reports of international congresses could not be bought for any
amount of money even in Belgium. ‘Shall I part with them, while
my brother and my friends would be so glad to have them at St.
Petersburg?’ I asked myself; and I decided that by all means I must get
them into Russia.
I returned to St. Petersburg _viâ_ Vienna and Warsaw. Thousands of
Jews live by smuggling on the Polish frontier, and I thought that if I
could succeed in discovering only one of them my books would be carried
in safety across the border. However, to alight at a small railway
station near the frontier while every other passenger went on, and to
hunt there for smugglers, would hardly have been reasonable; so I took
a side branch of the railway and went to Cracow. ‘The capital of Old
Poland is near to the frontier,’ I thought, ‘and I shall find there
some Jew who will lead me to the men I seek.’
I reached the once renowned and brilliant city in the evening,
and early next morning went out from my hotel on my search. To my
bewilderment I saw, however, at every street corner and wherever I
turned my eyes in the otherwise deserted market place a Jew, wearing
the traditional long dress and locks of his forefathers, and watching
there for some Polish nobleman or tradesman who might send him on an
errand and pay him a few coppers for the service. I wanted to find
_one_ Jew; and now there were too many of them. Whom should I approach?
I made the round of the town, and then, in my despair, I decided
to accost the Jew who stood at the entrance gate of my hotel--an
immense old palace, of which in former days every hall was filled with
elegant crowds of gaily dressed dancers, but which now fulfilled the
more prosaic function of giving food and shelter to a few occasional
travellers. I explained to the man my desire of smuggling into Russia a
rather heavy bundle of books and newspapers.
‘Very easily done, sir,’ he replied. ‘I will just bring to you the
representative of the Universal Company for the International Exchange
of (let me say) Rags and Bones. They carry on the largest smuggling
business in the world, and he is sure to oblige you.’ Half an hour
later he really returned with the representative of the company--a most
elegant young man, who spoke in perfection Russian, German, and Polish.
He looked at my bundle, weighed it with his hands, and asked what sort
of books were in it.
‘All severely prohibited by Russian censorship; that is why they must
be smuggled in.’
‘Books,’ he said, ‘are not exactly in our line of trade; our business
lies in costly silks. If I were going to pay my men by weight,
according to our silk tariff, I should have to ask you a quite
extravagant price. And then, to tell the truth, I don’t much like
meddling with books. The slightest mishap, and “they” would make of it
a political affair, and then it would cost the Universal Rags and Bones
Company a tremendous sum of money to get clear of it.’
I probably looked very sad, for the elegant young man who represented
the Universal Rags and Bones Company immediately added: ‘Don’t be
troubled. He [the hotel commissionnaire] will arrange it for you in
some other way.’
‘Oh yes. There are scores of ways to arrange such a trifle, to oblige
the gentleman,’ jovially remarked the commissionnaire, as he left me.
In an hour’s time he came back with another young man. This one took
the bundle, put it by the side of the door, and said: ‘It’s all right.
If you leave to-morrow, you shall have your books at such a station in
Russia,’ and he explained to me how it would be managed.
‘How much will it cost?’ I asked.
‘How much are you disposed to pay?’ was the reply.
I emptied my purse on the table, and said: ‘That much for my journey.
The remainder is yours, I will travel third class!’
‘Wai! wai! wai!’ exclaimed both men at once, ‘What are you saying, sir?
Such a gentleman travel third class! Never! No, no, no, that won’t
do.... Eight roubles will do for us, and then one rouble or so for the
commissionnaire, if you are agreeable to it--just as much as you like.
We are not highway robbers, but honest tradesmen.’ And they bluntly
refused to take more money.
I had often heard of the honesty of the Jewish smugglers on the
frontier; but I had never expected to have such a proof of it. Later
on, when our circle imported many books from abroad, or still later,
when so many revolutionists and refugees crossed the frontier in
entering or leaving Russia, there was not a case in which the smugglers
betrayed anyone, or took advantage of the circumstances to exact an
exorbitant price for their services.
Next day I left Cracow; and at the designated Russian station a porter
approached my compartment, and, speaking loudly, so as to be heard by
the gendarme who was walking along the platform, said to me, ‘Here is
the bag your highness left the other day,’ and handed me my precious
parcel.
I was so pleased to have it that I did not even stop at Warsaw, but
continued my journey directly to St. Petersburg, to show my trophies to
my brother.