ARRESTED BY THE RUSSIANS

On his return from India, William Gill was appointed to the war office’s intelligence branch. In the Balkans, the Russo-Turkish war was coming to an end and peace negotiations were under way. During these negotiations in early 1878, William Gill and a friend set off at short notice for Russian-occupied Bulgaria. They presented themselves as British tourists, wishing to visit the scenes of recent fighting.

Not wishing to be accused of anything underhand, on arrival at Bucharest in Romania, they called on the Russian commander, General Cherkesoff, to explain their plans – or at least the official version. Cherkesoff was polite but insisted that they would need a Russian pass to cross the Danube into Bulgaria. He would telegraph for the pass to the Turkish coastal village of Yesilköy (then known as San Stefano and where Istanbul airport is now) where the peace negotiations were under way. Meanwhile Gill and friend set off by train for Giurgiu (Giurgevo) on the Danube south of Bucharest, to wait for the pass. Gill wrote of this journey:

From the windows of the filthy railway carriages, that had probably recently carried typhus patients, the landscape was very dreary in the driving rain, and through the mist we could see long strings of hundreds of provision carts lumbering over the muddy roads on their way to the Russian armies in the exhausted province of Bulgaria.

The Balkan area visited by William Gill

After about 80 miles on the train, they reached Giurgiu:

The waiting room was more than filled with Russian officers, their wives, children, menservants and maidservants, samovars, pillows, and all the paraphernalia the Russian officer carries about with him on a campaign. Through the broken panes of a glass window the refreshment-room could be seen, the atmosphere reeking with tobacco smoke, and a dirty waiter handing greasy dishes to a clamorous crowd of passengers; beyond in the street the strings of Russian provision carts still went rumbling over the stones, and through the mud and slush; and above the noisy calls for the waiter, and the hum of conversation, could be heard the shouts of the drivers, as they urged their miserable animals to draw the overloaded carts or carriages. We were obliged to wait some time for our luggage, and whilst standing in the salon it was not difficult to perceive that we were objects of interest to some Russian gendarmes, who talked amongst themselves, casting sidelong glances at us.

Proceeding to their hotel, Gill was less than impressed with the accommodation and ambience:

The hotel was not a very delightful place. One of the waiters had lost an eye and walked like a crab; another squinted. This physical defect was evidently a reflex of the obliquity of his moral vision. They seemed to look upon us with suspicion. They sniffed at us as the pariah dogs sniff at the carcasses of horses and bullocks that lie about the roads of Roumania.

Round every corner there appeared to be someone who was trying to look as if he did not see us.

The two Brits decided to make themselves known to the local Russian commander, General Belskii. He had been forewarned by telegraph of their arrival in the town:

The old gentleman … looking at us uneasily, said in a somewhat plaintive tone: ‘But what can you want to do at Giurgevo?’

When we reflected that under the most favourable circumstances Giurgevo was about as lively a place as Sheerness; that now a continuous rain descended from a leaden sky into a sea of mud; that the place was full of Russian soldiers; and that the high price of everything was only equalled by its inferior quality, we could hardly help feeling that the question was a somewhat pertinent one.

Gill and friend were required to give the general their paroles d’honneur not to attempt to cross the Danube into Bulgaria. Having giving the assurances to the Russian general, they went to the local Prefecture where they met the President of the Permanent Committee, ‘a most fiery Roumanian gentleman’ named Yepuresco. He promised assistance and considered that the Russians had no right to prevent the British duo from travelling. As they returned to their hotel, William Gill noted the condition of the highways:

The roads of Giurgevo are bad; they have been paved in parts with blocks of stone. Here and there are holes caused by the explosion of Turkish shells. There will be more; a live shell lying by the roadside is not an infrequent sight. The Giurgevites like playing with these, and they sometimes go off.

The drivers avoid the holes if they can; when they get into them they sometimes leave a wheel behind; they do not swear a great deal under these circumstances, but this is the fasting season. Sometimes they get their carts out of the hole; they are then much pleased, and make a fresh start.

When they find that shouting and beating their horses about the head does not eventuate in any particular result, they get inside and go to sleep, the horses standing quietly up to their bellies in mud, and eating the hay tied up behind the other carts as they jolt past.

At the hotel, Gill and his companion received a message from Yepuresco offering police assistance, if required. The following morning was the Greek Orthodox Easter. William Gill and his colleague went out for a drive. A few miles out of Giurgeu, they were overtaken by two Russian Gendarmes with orders to take them back to town. They had to give further assurances to General Belskii that they would not try to cross the Danube.

Next day, Caramanli, the Romanian Prefect, returned from Bucharest. A former cavalry officer in the Russian army, he dealt robustly with the Russian Captain of Gendarmerie. The outcome was that the Prefect pledged that the Brits would not cross the Danube, the Captain of Gendarmerie that they would no longer be molested. Consequently Gill and friend were able to enjoy the rest of their short stay in the area at liberty, apart from an ongoing dispute with the Captain of Gendarmes about his interception of a couple of letters they had tried to send.

It was now a fine day, and we all took a walk in the public garden, where a military band was playing Russian music, Russian soldiers lounged about in their dirty clothes, and unkempt Russian officers smoked countless cigarettes as they paced slowly up and down.

The Roumanian peasants were all in their holiday attire.

The men were in maroon silk jackets, black silk trousers, baggy at the hips and tied at the ankles; a clean white shirt; a red scarf round the waist, and an astrachan [sic] cap.

The women were in short white petticoats under red or black embroidered shirts and aprons; embroidered waistbands, clean white bodies, and long white veils hanging down the back; very clean white stockings, and neat shoes.

As the sun was setting we returned to our hotel slowly through the streets half-ruined by the Turkish shells; and still the Russian provision carts were lumbering through the town.

The next morning we took a long country drive, and no one ventured to molest us.

William Gill and his companion returned to Bucharest by train the following evening, accompanied by the Prefect who saw them safely to their hotel. A few days later they left for England, where Gill promptly ridiculed the Russians in a three-part article entitled ‘Arrested by the Russians,’ serialised in June 1878 in the weekly magazine Vanity Fair.