tongues together, these mass migrations of holiday-makers tend to accentuate divisions; for the groups of various nationalities are apt to offend each other by the conflict of their manners and habits, so that the very inns, though nominally open to all, are often practically reserved for this nationality or that, the astute proprietors discouraging the intrusion of unsympathetic elements in the interests of peace and quietness. In short, the greater number of people who travel nowadays, for all the real knowledge they gain of the countries they visit, might as well travel on a map. Also, save for the material profit they bring, they for the most part do very little to make themselves welcome, and often a good deal to make themselves disliked.

The ordinary tourist, however, is a well understood phenomenon, and the gaucheries of which he is guilty have usually no serious positive effect. It has sometimes been otherwise in the case of those parties organised by well-meaning people to go abroad on some special mission of goodwill. Such deputations -whether of the House of Commons or of any other public or private society-are bound to be regarded as in the truest sense representative, and it is therefore most important that they should be carefully selected, so as really to represent the best elements in the country. That this has too often not been the case is unfortunately true, and much friction has from time to time been caused by the irruption into a country of a horde of people, collected haphazard, whose ignorance and bad manners have been all the more offensive because of their official or semiofficial character. Lapses due to ignorance of the language are, of course, usually not very serious-as in the case of that British member of Parliament who ended an eloquent speech in French at an Entente Cordiale banquet in Paris by saying with impressive emphasis: 'J'ai toujours supporté les Français, et je les supporterai toujours.' More serious are incidents such as that related to me by a Frenchman of position as having occurred in Paris some time before the war, when the Entente was in its first beginnings. A number of British members of Parliament and their wives were on an official visit to France. No care had been taken in their selection, and they consisted for the most part of the tag-rag and bob-tail of the House, intent mainly on enjoying a cheap trip abroad. At a formal reception held in their honour by the head of one of the greatest of French public institutions the majority of these ladies and gentlemen appeared in the costume which the vulgar British tourist thinks good enough for foreign parts, omitted the ordinary courtesy of greeting their host and hostess, and made a bee-line for the refreshment-room, where they spent the evening. The incident excited somewhat bitter comment, and was with difficulty kept out of the Press. Frenchmen of the

educated class knew, of course, that these people did not represent what was best in England, but they naturally resented the fact that England had not thought it worth while to send of her best to France.

Similar instances might be multiplied, but one moreAmerican this time-may suffice to enforce the moral. In his Modernizing the Monroe Doctrine General Sherrill, formerly American Ambassador to the Argentine Republic, speaks of his countrymen as 'as short in manner and tact as we are long in ingenuity and versatility,' and enlarges on this fact as a serious bar to the establishment of cordial relations between the United States and the Latin American republics.

Another easily overlooked factor making for friction [he says] is that of too many visits to them by ill-chosen groups of professors or students. The citizens of the lands visited . . . don't want to be considered as exhibits for sociological research parties. A number of strong editorials on this subject have appeared in their leading newspapers.

The moral of all this is that, if good feeling is to prevail in the intercourse between nations, some effort should be made to popularise an international code of good manners. This does not mean that manners should be assimilated. Indeed, so far as this process has been already in operation, it has usually been one of levelling down rather than levelling up; and variety is always amusing. It means that there should be cultivated among all those who go abroad a realisation of the importance of adapting themselves in a reasonable measure to the customs of the peoples whose countries they visit and, as a necessary consequence, the importance of acquiring the knowledge that shall enable them to do so. The practical question is how this knowledge is to be acquired. For the educated person a little observation and experience will in all cases perhaps suffice. But the vast mass of the travelling public nowadays, whether it be rich or poor, is not educated, and in all cases ignorance of the language of a country is a bar to the quick understanding of its social conventions.

Something might be done by including in guide-books a short account of any peculiar rules of etiquette or behaviour generally to be observed by visitors to any particular country. But the main thing is that all members of the public should realise their responsibility in this matter and should take the little trouble necessary in order to equip themselves as ambassadors of peace and goodwill. There are people who boast of their complete ignorance of foreign languages, and of the fact that this does not prevent their travelling anywhere. Let them remember that to show complete ignorance of the language of a country visited is always at least slightly offensive, and that it is not hard to learn a few polite phrases which will serve to minimise the offence.

There are people who take a pride in being uncompromisingly and ostentatiously British, or American, or German in their manners and customs wherever they go. Let them remember that there is nothing more insulting than obstinately to refuse to conform to the customs of those whose guests they are. I was once told of two young Englishmen who sat down in a foreign restaurant with their hats on and refused to remove them when requested to do so. Probably they had sinned in ignorance, but, having been instructed, they should have swallowed the humiliation, apologised, and obeyed. As it was, they were very properly kicked into the street. Clearly, the multiplication of such incidents would not make for international comity. Sensible and instructed people will avoid them instinctively. The vulgar by nature are probably incurable, and in the interests of peace they should be refused passports to travel. For the vastly greater number of the travelling public there is hope, if they have ears to hear and eyes to see. Let them remember the advice given by the first Earl of Malmesbury to a young diplomatist :- Never to attempt to export English habits and manners, but to conform as far as possible to those of the country where you reside-to do this even in the most trivial things-to learn to speak their language, and never to sneer at what may strike you as singular and absurd. Nothing goes to conciliate so much, or to amalgamate you more cordially with its inhabitants, as this very easy sacrifice of your national prejudices to theirs.'

W. ALISON PHILLIPS.

THREE EVENINGS WITH COUNT LEO TOLSTOÏ

DURING the winter of 1900-1901 Count Leo Tolstoï resided at Moscow, in his house at Khamovniki.1 It was at that time that I happened to make the acquaintance of the famous writer. I was introduced to him by the Annenkoffs, my distant relatives. Mr. K. N.2 Annenkoff, a well-known and learned man of law and landed proprietor of Lgoff, imbued with the ideas of 1860, could in no way be looked upon as being a partisan of Leo Tolstoï's; his wife, Mrs. L. Th. Annenkoff, on the contrary, was a zealous disciple of Tolstoï's teaching. An independent landowner, she led a life of absolute simplicity, and followed Tolstoï's literary activity most fervently, so that one could be certain of always finding his latest work, copied in her own handwriting, on her table.

Every winter, as soon as the sledge-roads were traffickable, the Annenkoffs would leave their country solitude (the village of Tvnitza, in the Lgoff district, at a distance of about fifteen miles from Lgoff) for Moscow, where they remained for two or three months, so as to see their intimate friends and acquaintances and to gain new impressions. During these visits, when the Tolstoïs themselves resided at Moscow, that frequent intercourse between them became established which served as the chief attraction for Mrs. Annenkoff in Moscow.

The entire so-called 'Tolstoï circle' could be met with in the evening in the two small rooms which they usually occupied for the time in Tchijoff's furnished lodging on the Mokhovaya,3 opposite the University. Boulanger, Dounaïeff, P. Sergueïenxo, Birioukoff, if I am not mistaken, Khilkoff, Gorbounoff-Possadoff, Baratysnxaïa, were amongst the habitués, leaving aside less known disciples of Tolstoï. The hospitable and social lady of the house, Mrs. Annenkoff, who treated her guests to various homemade sweets and pastry, was the centre of these small parties. The conversation invariably referred to the periodical questions of Tolstoï's literary teaching, and to the various public lectures of his partisans and adherents. Faithful to her habits, however,

1 Part of the city of Moscow.
2 Konstantin Nikanorovitch.
3 Street at Moscow.

she never remained idle. She would always be busy at some handwork, which generally consisted in knitting woollen scarves, gloves, mittens, socks, and caps intended for Count Leo Tolstoï, whose name she pronounced with special reverence. Her husband, Mr. Annenkoff, sometimes jokingly made fun of her handwork, remarking that her knitting was evidently very precarious, judging by the short time Tolstoï was able to wear her work. The Annenkoffs, who were vegetarians, always brought their own petroleum kitchen with them from the country, and were accompanied by their own maid-servant, a young and good-natured little Russian, who, as Mrs. Annenkoff asserted, was likewise a follower of Tolstoï. The characteristic peculiarities of this villageproselyte of the great author consisted in a perpetually swollen cheek and feet clad in huge felt boots.

The Annenkoffs remained at Moscow longer than usual during the winter I am speaking of. I had for a long time wished to become acquainted with Count Tolstoi personally; he had already heard of me many years previously through Professor Nicolaus Grote, had read several of my literary trials and had even once given his approbation, which was flattering to me, but that was all. I must candidly confess now that, owing to my youthful infatuation, I disliked the idea of paying my obeisances to Tolstoï, and preferred to wait until I might chance to make his acquaintance through Grote or some other mutual friends.

I vividly recollect a vexing incident on having, at Professor Grote's request, read through the proof-sheets of Tolstoï's What is Art? (a work, to which, as is generally known, the author lent great importance), which was at the time being published in the periodical review, Questions of Philosophy and Psychology, edited by Grote. I happened one evening to call on him to return him the sheets, and was met, to my utter vexation and distress, by the words,' Had you come half an hour sooner, you would have met Count Leo Tolstoï!'

Thanks to the Annenkoffs, a favourable chance of getting acquainted with Tolstoï in suitable circumstances lay in store for me. They proposed to come and fetch me so as to drive together to the Tolstoïs', at Khamovniki, in the evening. This was on February 1, 1901. Mrs. Annenkoff drove ahead alone in a cab, whilst her husband and I followed in another. The weather was infamous; a regular snowstorm was blowing, and I was surprised at my companion's stoicism; he was clad in a simple autumn overcoat without a fur collar, and smoked all the way. His endurance was due to the excessive training he had always submitted himself to, bathing as he did in the open air until the beginning of October.

I remember to this day how confused I felt as we drove up to