In the light of this fact there was something almost comical in the comment of one journal which said:
"Madame Novikoff is a Russian agent in close relations with Count Shouvaloff, and she is the sister of General Kiréeff and sister-in-law of the Russian Ambassador at Vienna. This is the person with whom our ex-premier was admittedly in close alliance, public and private, during the recent atrocity agitation. But when the climax of the pro-Russian agitation was reached, and its managers believed the overthrow of Lord Beaconsfield to be imminent, Mr. Gladstone, at the close of the St. James's Hall 'Conference,' left his seat, went up to Madame Novikoff, offered her his arm, and led her triumphantly through the bewildered crowd, in order to give them an earnest of the anti-Turkish alliance at last concluded between England and Russia, and thereby publicly acknowledged that his relations with that lady belong to the province of public life, and ought to be treated as matters of public concern. That also, we have no doubt, will be the opinion of the country when the nature of these relations has been more explicitly revealed."
There was one man who occupied a powerful position in Russia and, as I have said, was well known in the world, and who boasted that though he never signed the Paris Treaty, he did all in his power to abolish the consequences of that detestable document. I mean the Chancellor of Russia, the Prince Gortschakoff.
My last interview with him was not altogether pleasant: with one hand he gave "his praise," with the other "his blame." (His right hand really did not know what his left was doing!) But here are a few facts, now known in Russia, but unknown in England.
I think I have said that for several years I carefully concealed my literary identity. In Russia it was known to Katkoff, the editor of the Moscow Gazette, in England chiefly to Stead, my English editor, and to Mr. Gladstone, who was my energetic political confidant. For that purpose I used my maiden initials "O.K." (Olga Kiréeff).
On my return home from England I received a note from the Chancellor asking me to call on him "as he was too ill to make calls."
By the by, I must say that in Russia it is quite customary, even for a very young woman, to call on business, either at a Cabinet Minister's Office or on an Ambassador at his Embassy.
In both cases the Office and the Embassy take the place of the absent wives, and such visits are fully understood. Still, people make some jokes about wives being thus replaced. But let me return to my unpleasant interview. The Prince received me, as usual, very cordially, flattering and complimenting me, but after which he said: "But, dear Madame Novikoff, I must insist upon one point and draw your serious attention to something very important. You really must not mention the word 'Slav.' Europe hates that word, and Russia must ignore it."
"But Russians are Slavs, every schoolboy must know that," I exclaimed.
"Of course, of course," admitted the old Chancellor, "but Europe hates that word. It is the red rag thrown to an infuriated bull," etc. etc.