WHO WOULDN'T BE AN EMPEROR?

Seventh-Day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 27, 1880

FromThe Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 55, No. 22

WHO WOULDN'T BE AN EMPEROR?

We clip from an exchange the following graphic description of the Czar's every-day life, or rather, of his daily “race with death”:—

Who would care to change places with the Czar of all the Russias? The poorest vagabond that crawls the streets has no reason to envy his Majesty, though the Czar's personal income is $25,000 a day, and he has the power of life and death over his subjects. He lives in hourly fear of assassination, which has brought on a nervous complaint that a defensive undershirt of steel aggravates too much to allow of his wearing it. It was a chain garment, almost as easy as a “jersey,” but he had to cast it off. In its stead his clothing is lined with a kind of glutinous compound that resists a bullet sufficiently, it is said, to insure immunity from the practice of ordinary fire-arms. The Czar is very fond of tobacco. He has had to lay aside pipe and cigar, because recently it was discovered that the royal weed had been poisoned. His cook is changed continually, and two private detectives preside over the chef's operations, and taste his dishes before they go to the Czar's table. In order to insure the wholesomeness of the food, sauces and elaborate entrees have been abolished in the royal kitchens. The Czar does not open a letter or packet of any kind himself, lest it should contain an explosive or poisonous engine. His linen is under everlasting inspection for fear it may be poisoned, and convey to the pores of the skin some death-dealing mixture. He goes about in peril of disguised daggers, of concealed pistols, of poisonous vapors, and in spite of all imaginable precautions, the grim specter of Nihilism starts up to confront him in the most private apartments of his very palace. Agents of the Secret Police attend him everywhere, but even his most confidential guards are only allowed to know what his movements are just in time to prepare for a ride, a drive, or a long journey. It is a continual race with death, a hide-and-seek scramble with rebellion, a constant running of the gauntlet of Nihilism, over a mined course and between rows of murderers.