Early next morning Andronnikov called for me to present me to the governor-general of the territory of the Terek—the ataman, as the chief of a Cossack district is called. This interview was one of the oddest experiences I had ever had. The roomy reception-hall of the official residence was crowded with people, mostly peasants, awaiting an audience with the ataman to present one or another grievance. The acting aide-de-camp recognized my friend and we were received without delay. The general was an oldish man with a brief gray beard, and metallic gray eyes whose glitter was emphasised by the strong glasses he wore. He was thick-set and heavy, not above medium height.
The prince was received with marked respect, and when he had made his formal salutations he presented me as an American correspondent. He got no further. The general pushed back his chair, and, stepping toward me, asked in apparent anger if I knew a Mr. S——, an American merchant in a certain town in Siberia. I had never heard of the gentleman.
“Americans are not white!” he exclaimed. “They are not true.” Just what the general’s grievance was against Mr. S—— I could not discover, but his tirade against Americans in general and Mr. S—— in particular was heartfelt and prolonged, and neither Andronnikov nor I seemed able to turn the general to other topics. Suddenly he paused in his wrath and, looking me straight in the eye, asked: “You are a correspondent?” I replied affirmatively. “That is bad!” he answered emphatically. “You remember Mr. —— of the ‘London Times’?” The name was familiar to me, for this man had been asked to leave Russia for his plain speaking. The general then vented his feelings in regard to this man, and toward correspondents in general. Poor Andronnikov, my host, grew more and more confused and embarrassed till I suffered for him.
Suddenly, for a third time, the general changed the subject. This time he hurled his invectives against the Jews. “The Jews are at the bottom of all of Russia’s troubles,” he cried. “If we could settle the Jews we would tranquilize Russia.” I hastened to assure him that I was not a Jew, though in America there were many people who welcomed the Jews from Russia.
“You are not a Jew. No. But have you a courier?” I told him no, but I expected to secure one that day. “Then don’t get a Jew!” he warned. “If you do you will both be killed!” As he went on, in his bitterness I realized again how deep-rooted is this hatred of the Jew in the minds and hearts of certain Russian officials, and why the responsibility for Jewish massacres is so seldom fixed. The general strode back and forth like a caged tiger. Twice he came so near to me that his breath was on my cheek. My discomfort was great and I was beginning to lose my temper. I wished heartily I had not come. At last I had an inspiration. Interrupting the general without apology, I exclaimed: “Your excellency is quite right. The problem of the Jew is a tremendous one. The firm and courageous way that you, sir, look at this vast question and the strength with which you approach it fills me with admiration. I shall tell the people of America about you, sir. America knows how great is Russia’s problem. I pray your excellency permit me to send a photograph of yourself to America—a photograph in this uniform, sir, with those medals on your breast—”
“This uniform?” put in the general. “You like this? Ah! But you should see me in my other uniform!”
“I would I might!” I replied with feeling. “I pray your excellency to permit me to come when you are wearing it!”
“Wait!” he shouted as he disappeared from the room. For a quarter of an hour the prince and I waited. Then the door was opened by an orderly, and the general entered, clad in a magnificent uniform. It was Circassian in style, and in color a rich royal purple. The prince and I both spent ourselves in admiration till the general resumed his seat and began to discuss the object of my visit. His whole attitude was altered and from this on I found him most kind, affable, and courteous. He did all that any man could to help me and make easy my journey. He expressed satisfaction that I was interested in the Cossacks, when I asked him to tell me about this branch of the service. Who were the Cossacks? What were they? I did not know, although no word is more commonly on the lips in connection with Russia.
“Cossacks are the bravest, the truest we have,” he said. “It is a source of regret to all who know the Cossacks that so little is known about them in their home life, for the stories of the pogroms, the massacres, give so false a view of the Cossack as he really is.”
“I want to know him as he really is,” I replied; “that is why I have come so far at this time, and why I am so eager to travel with a party of Cossack officers through this marvelous country of the Caucasus.”