86: 



REVIEW OF REVIEWS. 



Xovember 1, 1913. 



TSARSKOE SELO— THE TSARS PALACE NEAR ST. PETERSBURG. 



MY FATHER: W. T. STEAD.— VI. 



Bv HEX 



We crossed the Russian frontier at 

 Wirballen, a note from the Russian Am- 

 bassador in England passing us with- 

 out trouble through the Customs. No- 

 where else on the ( onlinent have I seen 

 Custom officials who so resembled 

 Englishmen. The trains are very good. 

 The broad gauge there shows well in 

 contrast to the 4 ft. 81 in. of the rest of 

 Europe. The restaurants at the rail- 

 way stations are of the best, and as the 

 trains never start until three bells have 

 been rung, at respectable intervals, there 

 is always plenty of time \.o enjoy the 

 good things provided in comfort. 



During a strenuous fortnight in St. 

 Petersburg father interviewed every- 

 body whose opinion on the Tsar's Peace 

 Rescript was of value. In a letter writ- 

 ten at that time he said : — 



When J left St. Petersburg I did so witli 

 th'6 happy consciousness that 1 had missed 

 nobody who was worth seeing, and that I had 

 got down to tlie bedrock of the question 

 which J had como to Kussia to investigate. 

 For be it noted, tbat my visits to the ^Jinis- 

 ters and otliers were by no means mere call.'> 

 of courtesy. I came on a mission of enquiry, 

 and I interviewed every one " down to th<' 

 ground." It is no small test oif the urbanity 

 and courtesy and hospitality of the Russians 

 that tliey bore -with my inquiries so patiently, 

 and entertained me with a cordiality and 



RV STEAD. 



generositv th^at coulil hardly have been ex- 

 ceeded if 1 hrid been an accredited envoy 

 from a friendly and allied .State. 



.\ MODERN TORQUEMADA 

 I remember specially M. Pobyedoii'j^l 

 zeff. He was the Procurator of the Huly 

 Synod, and had been dubbed Torque- 

 mada by father because of his fan- 

 atical persecution of the unorthodox. 

 When we saw him at his house at 

 Tsarskoe Selo he shook his finger at 

 father, reiterating, " \'ou called me Tor- 

 quemada ! You called me Torque- 

 mada!" He was a thin old man, with 

 scant grey locks, and large round spec- 

 tacles on his nose. He and father spoke 

 German, and between them the lan- 

 guage was pretty well murdered, but 

 they soon got on famously. They met 

 several times, and finally parted with 

 feelings of mutual respect. The old 

 man had a wonderful record of achieve- 

 ment for his country. He was the foun- 

 der of the volunteer fleet, and had time 

 and again come to the rescue in things 

 diplomatic. He was just the type of 

 earnest selfless man to make the very 

 worst kind of persecutor. It was, said 

 father, an intellectual treat to sit at 

 the feet of this Russian Gamaliel, even 



