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The young man who has just been crowned at Moscow at an expense of some millions, and whose emblem of authority is ornamented with rubies as large as eggs and ablaze with 2,564 costly diamonds–while half his people are feeding on fetid offal–is a weak-faced pigmy who would probably be peddling Russia’s favorite drunk promoter over a pine bar had he not chanced to be born in the purple. Having been spawned in a royal bed–perchance the same in which his great gran’dame Catherine was wont to receive her paramours–he becomes the most powerful of princes– haloed with “that divinity which doth behedge a king”–and all the earth rejoices to do him honor.

For months past wealthy Americans have been hastening to Moscow to enjoy the barbaric fete and perchance pick up a greasy count or scorbutic duke for their daughters. They were not permitted to witness the coronation, but they could look at the Kremlin, stand in the street and watch the Czar and his wooden-faced wife sail by in their chariot of gold, and perhaps be cuffed out of the way by a court chamberlain. Surely that were felicity enough for fools! Our boasted Republican government, whose shibboleth has ever been the equality of all men– that the harvester of the lowly hoop-pole stands on a parity with a prince swinging a gilded scepter and robbing a poverty-stricken people–considered that its paid representatives in Russia would be unequal to the task of spilling sufficient slobber over the chief representative of “divine right,” the great arch-enemy of human liberty, and sent special envoys to assist at the ceremony. These haughty American sovereigns were not permitted, however, to enter the sacred presence of the Czar attired in their regal robes–the dress of American gentlemen; but were required to dike out like English flunkeys at a fancy feed. “Evening coat with plain metal buttons, white vest, knee-breeches, black silk stockings, no ornaments”–such was the ukase issued to the envoys of Uncle Sam by the royal seneschal. They “obeyed with alacrity.” Of course they did. Had they been ordered to appear in their shirt- tails, one flap dyed green and the other yellow, their legs painted like barber-poles and wearing asses’ ears, they would have “obeyed with alacrity”–without ever a thought of advising the seneschal to go to Siberia. The rear admiral in command of the Mediterranean fleet was ordered to Kronstadt with his flagship; sent to attend the coronation “as the naval envoy of the United States”–a journey of some thousands of miles at a minimum expense of $1,000 a day, to watch a young dude stick a million-dollar dog muzzle on his own foolish pate, while his female running mate cavorted around with a dozen dudines supporting her tail-feathers! And “Jones he pays the freight”–puts up for this egregious folly. It has cost the American tax-payers a quarter of a million dollars to have their mis-representatives prancing around the Kremlin in short-stop pants and silk stockings, bowing and scraping like a Pullman porter who has just received a dollar tip from some reckless Tezsan.

We have nothing in common with Russia. One government is the antithesis of the other. They are “on friendly terms” because they have practically no intercourse. Russia has no American possessions upon which we can pull the foolish manifesto of the erstwhile Monroe. There’s no trade between the two countries–hasn’t been since Russia unloaded her Alaskan glaciers upon us at a fancy price. It would have been eminently proper had Minister Breckinridge presented himself–togged out in his best Arkansas jeans instead of being attired like a troubadour–to wish Nick exemption from the Nihilists and express the hope that the occasion wouldn’t swell his head; but there was absolutely no excuse for sending warships on an expensive cruise, and special envoys 5,000 miles to make unmitigated asses of themselves.