HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY THE TSAR
One interesting figure has held the attention of the Continent of Europe
for many long years, appealing to the imagination and baffling
comprehension, but will never fill the same place again. Another,
however, is coming forward very possibly in his stead, without any wish
or intention of his own, and that other is the Emperor of Russia. He
will do so, I believe, just as the German Emperor has done, because
history affords him the opportunity, and because, like the Kaiser, he
too is a man who cherishes thoughts of great purposes for his people and
ideals for himself.
It affords me the greatest pleasure to write about the Emperor--he is
not usually spoken of in Russian society as the Tsar--for I shall always
feel most deeply grateful to him for his great personal kindness at my
first audience with him, and the great encouragement he gave me at the
very beginning of my work abroad.
[Illustration: _Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritsa._]
I have already explained the quaking spirit in which I crossed the
frontier. It so happened that Russia was the first country I visited
when appointed to take charge of the jurisdiction, and, as to so many
others, there was something forbidding to me in the very name of Russia.
I knew at that time also that my visitations would bring me, as they
have done, into contact with other sovereigns, and with great personages
in other countries, and here at St. Petersburg I was to begin with the
most unknown and, as one thought of his vast empire, most overwhelming
of them all. And then--but let me describe an audience at the palace at
Tsarskoe Selo, for it will probably interest many a reader, and also
explain how very different from a somewhat perturbed anticipation was
the pleasurable reality. I have taken care to satisfy myself beforehand
that I shall not be transgressing any of the rules of court etiquette,
nor be guilty of any breach of confidence in so doing.
Audiences abroad are always arranged through the British Embassy or
Legation. Court dress is worn in Russia, even though the reception
itself is perfectly informal, but, as court dress for a bishop consists
in being robed as for Easter services, in red chimere, etc., there was
no difficulty in providing it even for one who has to carry everything
in a couple of bags, and for months at a time.
Tsarskoe Selo--"The Tsar's village," the words mean--is a little over
half an hour by rail from Petrograd, and I was instructed to start from
the Imperial Station in Petrograd, and there walked over rich carpets,
through saluting soldiers, to the imperial train, most beautifully and
comfortably arranged with smoking, writing, and reading compartments.
Upon arrival at Tsarskoe Selo imperial carriages are always waiting for
those expected, with coachman and footman on the box, wearing bright
scarlet cloaks edged with white fur and very smart cocked hats of red
and gold.
It was a typical Russian wintry day with a tremendous blizzard blowing,
and blinding snow falling. Sentries were stationed at intervals through
the streets of the village, saluting all the imperial carriages as they
went by, although no occupant could be seen; and having passed through
it we entered the park and soon drew up at the door of the small palace
where the Emperor always resides, and which, white itself, looked that
day like a fairy palace rising up amid the snow.
Nothing could be more strikingly different from that white world
without, however, than the warmth and richness of colour within. On
every side there were brilliant and unfamiliar liveries and dazzlingly
rich uniforms. An official, of huge physique, wearing several medals,
with a broad gold band round his head, from which, on its right side,
stuck out a curious bunch of dark feathers, in velvet and lace dress,
and with breeches and silk stockings--there was no one the least like
him in the crowd of attendants--at once came forward and led me away to
a dressing-room in which to leave my furs and change into my robes. He
then conducted me through one beautiful room after another, each one
richly furnished and adorned with beautiful china, paintings, _ikons_,
trophies, and presents from different parts of the empire, until at
length we reached a small room where a number of officers in brilliant
uniforms were seated and evidently in attendance.
One of them, the Conte de Grabbe, at once came forward and welcomed me,
chatting pleasantly until a servant, very quietly attired like an
English butler, came out from a room opposite and, holding the door
open, signified that I was to enter.
There was no introduction or announcement of any kind, and, as I
entered, the Emperor was already standing there to meet me, smiling
pleasantly and encouragingly, with extended hand.
"It is very kind in your Imperial Majesty," I said, "to allow me to come
and see you in this informal way."
"It is very kind in you to come and see us, bishop," he replied, so
cheerily and unaffectedly, that away went every bit of diffidence and
sense of constraint, and, to my great relief and gratitude, I found
myself talking as naturally as to an intimate friend. I say "gratitude"
because, being put so entirely at ease, able to say all that it was in
my mind to say, and ask anything that it was in my mind to wish to know,
enabled me to get a clear idea of the Emperor's attractive personality,
and even, as he spoke quite freely, of some at least of the opinions and
principles which must rule his conduct and shape his policy and
government.
"He gives you confidence," a diplomatist who had had many official
audiences with him said to me one day, and that exactly describes the
effect he produces. He talked freely of all things before the public
mind just then--of the approaching Coronation of King George, for whom
he expressed a more than cousinly regard and respect; of domestic duties
and family life as the ideals which shape the destinies of races; of
the Russian Church, particularly asking if its dignitaries had welcomed
me; of our English Church; of travelling; of my own impressions of
Russia and other things. It was quite astonishing afterwards to recall
the ground we had covered in that interview. And before I left he
inquired:--
"When will you be coming to Russia again, bishop?"
"Next year, sir," I said; "for I believe I am to go to Siberia."
"Siberia! How interesting! I've never yet been to Siberia. Then you'll
come and tell us all about it when you return, won't you?"
"I shall be much honoured, sir." And praying God's blessing upon himself
and the imperial family, for which he thanked me as simply and modestly
as any other layman would have done, I withdrew, feeling that it had
been one of the most helpful and memorable interviews I had ever had.
I have been often asked if the Emperor is not very much like our King,
and it is a somewhat difficult question to answer. As he stood there
that morning, in a simple pale blue uniform, well set up and looking
extraordinarily young and boyish, and smilingly happy--so entirely
different from one's expectations--it did not occur to me to see any
such likeness, but an old courtier said to me, in speaking after
luncheon of "the resemblance which is so much talked of"--
"There is no resemblance to be noticed when their two Majesties are
together, nor would there be any striking likeness seen between their
portraits in colours, but in photographs or anything that is black and
white, just bringing out light and shade, then the similarity is most
remarkable, you might easily mistake one for the other."
This puts one's own impressions very clearly. There is a well-known
photograph, circulated as a postcard in Germany, and from a German
negative, of which I have a copy, in which the two Emperors are shown in
conversation on the imperial yacht. Any one seeing it in English hands
would certainly think that it was our King and the Kaiser, and be quite
astonished at learning it was not.
The Emperor received me the first time in a very comfortable but simply
furnished study, and the last time, when, in accordance with his
invitation, I went to tell him about my two missions to Siberia, in his
billiard-room fitted up as a study or library, and in which he led me to
the kind of window-seat which we know so well in English country houses,
looking out upon the park. Afterwards luncheon was served for me in
the _Grand Palais_ of the Great Catherine, a most magnificent and
immense palace a little distance away, full of interesting souvenirs of
Russia's past.
[Illustration: _His Imperial Highness the Tsarevitch Alexei._]
It is well known how many and different rumours have been circulated
during the last two years about the heir to the throne, and it seems
rather a pity that the simple truth has not been announced and made
fully known from the first, for I am assured on the best authority in
Petrograd, that the Tsarevitch suffers from a skin affection not
unknown, unfortunately, to members of our royal family, which, as he is
a very high-spirited boy, difficult to watch and caution, has in moments
of exuberance and violent exertion caused him to receive injuries which
for a time have been disabling.
When last at Tsarskoe Selo, before taking my leave I took out some
puzzles from my pocket, made of wood and steel, quite inexpensive, as I
thought it likely they would be most welcome because most unfamiliar,
and handing them to the Emperor, said:--
"I have brought the Tsarevitch a present, sir, and I bring it out with
much hesitation, for it is a very simple one, and I know he must have
had many beautiful and costly gifts this Christmas."
"Not at all," he said; "we bring him up very simply, and he loves
puzzles. He and I used up all we could get, especially those jig-saw
puzzles, while he was ill. These, I see, are new."
"I hope," I said, "that he is now better?"
"Yes," he said, "he is; he's quite well now--quite well," he repeated
with emphasis.
The Emperor speaks English perfectly, fluently, and with ease, and I
have been told that it is the language most generally, if not always,
used in the ordinary daily life of the imperial family.
I have taken up some time in giving these personal impressions, but I
think it is quite worth while to do so just now as the Emperor was so
particularly gracious and kind, and thus enabled me to form some idea of
what he is, just as a man and a father in his own home; and that I know
will appeal to my own countrymen when wondering what is likely to be his
policy and aim as a ruler of a vast empire.
A man can only _do_ what he _is_, whether he be in the highest or the
lowest positions in the world; and he always brings out, sooner or
later, what he is at heart. It must therefore be a very great source of
confidence to us all just now, when we believe that the providence of
GOD has brought the British and the Russian Empires together, not for
temporary, but for enduring objects, to know, as I feel we may consider
that we do know, that the Emperor of all the Russias is a man we can all
respect and trust, precisely as we respect and trust our own
Sovereign--as one whose ideals are those of domestic duty and family
life on the one hand, and the real interests and well-being of the
labouring and toiling millions of his people on the other.
A somewhat scandalous book was written last year which I won't mention
by name, lest curiosity should lead those who have not read it to do so,
which gave a most unfavourable impression of the Emperor and the
imperial family. It was not, however, written by an Englishman; and,
without questioning in any way the writer's _bona fides_, I am bound to
say, and very confidently and energetically, that I have never yet met
one of my own countrymen who has had to do with the Emperor of Russia,
financially, diplomatically, or in audience, who has not expressed
himself to me about him in the same appreciative terms as I have here
used myself.
Take, for instance, what Sir Donald Mackenzie Wallace has written only a
few months ago.[8] "The antiquated idea that Tsars are always heartless
tyrants who devote much of their time in sending troublesome subjects
to Siberia, is now happily pretty well exploded, but the average
Englishman is still reluctant to admit that an avowedly autocratic
government may be, in certain circumstances, a useful institution. There
is no doubt, however, that in the gigantic work of raising Russia to her
present level of civilization, the Tsars have played a most important
part. As for the present Tsar, he has followed, in a humane spirit, the
best traditions of his ancestors. Any one who has had opportunities of
studying closely his character and aims, and who knows the difficulties
with which he has had to contend, can hardly fail to regard him with
sympathy and admiration. Among the qualities which would commend him to
Englishmen are his scrupulous honesty and genuine truthfulness. Of
these--were I not restrained by fear of committing a breach of
confidence--I might give some interesting illustrations.
"As a ruler, Nicholas II habitually takes a keen, sympathetic interest
in the material and moral progress of his country; and is ever ready to
listen attentively and patiently to those who are presumably competent
to offer sound advice on the subject. At the same time he is very
prudent in action; and this happy combination of zeal and caution, which
distinguishes him from his too impetuous countrymen, has been signally
displayed in recent years. During the revolutionary agitation which
followed close on the disastrous Japanese War, when the impetuous
would-be reformers wished to overturn the whole existing fabric of
administration, and the timid counsellors recommended vigorous
retrograde measures, he wisely steered a middle course, which has
resulted in the creation of a moderate form of parliamentary
institutions."
I am not alone, therefore, in the very favourable impression I have
formed of the Russian Emperor as a man whom the best of my own
countrymen may respect as one like-minded with themselves in his views
of life and conduct, and his own countrymen thoroughly trust as a
constitutional ruler who, though determined, as he will be advised by
his most trusted counsellors, to go cautiously, yet is convinced that a
good government's one and chief concern is the well-being of those who
are governed, and especially of those who form the lowest class in its
social scale.
Like Sir Donald Wallace, I too could give instances of the Emperor's
straightforward and generous action which show the essential
right-mindedness of his nature in a very striking way, if it were
possible to do so without breach of confidence. Especially was this the
case in a particular instance of which I know, when it was a question of
putting his own interests, and even dignity, in a very secondary
position. It was one, indeed, in which no great ruler could be expected
or asked to do so, but when he learnt himself what was involved he at
once did so subordinate his own interests, and has earned in consequence
the lasting gratitude of all concerned, and their entire and loyal
confidence.
The Russian people are intensely loyal, and, as the overwhelming
majority are of the peasant class, their loyalty is of that simple,
fervid, and trusting character which is seen in their family and village
life. They do not speak of the "Emperor" so much as of "The Little
Father," and that is how they feel towards him. He is the father of his
people and they are his children. If there is anything they object to in
legislation it is always put down to officialdom, just as our own
Colonies, before the days when they began to "think imperially," used to
vent all their displeasure upon "Downing Street" when unwelcome
legislation took place, and never upon Queen Victoria (or her
government), for whom they had the greatest respect and affection. The
Russian peasant too murmurs loudly at times against the governors and
their subordinates when he is requested to do something that he does
not like, but with a solacing reflection to himself that "The Little
Father would put everything right if he only knew."
There is disaffection and serious disloyalty in other quarters, and I
shall try my best to describe it and what may very possibly be some of
its causes, in my chapter on "Russia's Problem," but the dangerous
disaffection, probably already beginning to pass away, is confined to a
few of the largest towns, and does not in any way affect the
overwhelming majority of the Emperor's subjects, who are entirely
devoted to him and patriotically loyal.
This ought to be remembered also when we are thinking over future
relations between our own people and theirs. The Russians are not a
downtrodden and oppressed people struggling to throw off the yoke of a
harsh and despotic rule, but are contented, loyal, and law-abiding. They
do not, however, show their loyalty by any outward expressions such as
the "All Highest," and others with which we have been made familiar in
the addresses and letters of Germans of high rank, office, and birth,
during the war. No such terms exist or are thought of amongst the
subjects of the Emperor of Russia. The word Tsar occurs, I believe, in
the National Anthem, and Tsaritsa is used occasionally, while there is
no such word as Tsarina in the language. But neither Tsar, Emperor,
Tsaritsa, or Empress are used, I am told, amongst the ordinary people.
They speak of "_Gosudar_" and "_Gosudarina_" which mean Lord and Lady,
or Sir and Madame, and in such general use are these terms, I believe,
that a man writing a business letter to a tradesman would begin
"Gracious Gosudar." The Tsarevitch Alexis is spoken of amongst the
people by a word in perfectly common use, which is no more than the
ordinary word for "heir." Loyalty and great respect, it would seem, are
quite consistent with great familiarity of thought and expression.
The Emperor is probably spoken of more frequently as Nicolai
Alexandrovitch--"Nicholas, son of Alexander"--than by any other title,
and I feel sure that the Grand Duke Nicholas, Commander-in-Chief, and
his doings at head-quarters, have been spoken of all over Russian plains
and Siberian steppes this winter as familiarly and as proudly as of some
one who had gone from their own village. "Ah! Nicolai Nicolaievitch!
What a man he is! How well he has fought this war! How proud we are of
him!" etc., etc. I was told lately of a touching incident which
occurred at a great service in Russia (the translation of the remains of
a great saint) at which the Grand Duchess Serge was present, and, when
she arrived, had gone quietly up to a gallery pew, arranged for her and
other great ladies. Soon afterwards an old peasant woman, to whom she
had once shown a kindness, arrived, and at once began to inquire:--
"Has Elizabeth come yet?"--the Grand Duchess's Christian name--"I want
Elizabeth. She told me when next I came where she was to be sure and ask
for her. Where's Elizabeth?"
The Grand Duchess in her exalted gallery caught something of what was
going on, and, hearing her own name, at once came down.
"Here I am, little mother!" And then with "Dear Elizabeth!" the old
woman threw her arms about her neck and began her story.
Such a thing is only possible in Russia, and yet it is the one country
in the world where we have always been led to think that between the
highest and the lowest there is that "great gulf fixed," which if not
bridged over in this life by sympathy and love, has little hope of being
passed in the world to come.
Rank and position and high office if worthily filled need no buttressing
up. Least of all need those who hold them give themselves airs. Their
office is enough in itself; and last year, when I had a large party of
German youths to take about London, and by the kindness of those
concerned took them to see one or two great places where they were most
courteously and graciously received--they were the sons of working men
in Frankfurt--I was more than pleased to hear one of them say to his
friend, "I notice that in England the higher the rank the less the
pretence." So it is in Russia. The more exalted the position the more
unaffected and simple the one who fills it!
The Grand Duchess Elizabeth, daughter of our own Princess Alice, is
probably the best known and the best loved woman in all Moscow, indeed
in all Russia, and hereafter will, in all probability, have "Saint"
prefixed to her name. Many do not hesitate to use it even now. Her sad
experiences appealed most powerfully to the people's sympathies when she
was so tragically widowed a few years ago. Her husband, the Grand Duke
Serge, Governor of Moscow, had become extremely unpopular with certain
classes, and it was well known that his life was in danger; but he knew
no fear, and drove out constantly in an open carriage in which the Grand
Duchess insisted upon accompanying him. It is said that at length a
letter was written to him advising him to leave her behind if he valued
her life, and adding significantly, "We have no quarrel with her, nor
anything against her." She was, therefore, from that time left at home,
his secretary asking to be allowed to go in her place. Again the same
kind of letter was received, and he too was left behind; and the Grand
Duke, who was no coward, determined to go alone. And then, on the first
morning he did so, and not far from his own door, the fatal bomb was
thrown, and did its work so effectually that there was nothing left to
be seen! He was literally "blown to atoms." Every one in Moscow is said
to have heard the terrific explosion, and knew at once. "They have him
at last!" The Grand Duchess heard also and rushed immediately to the
scene. It may be questioned whether any other woman has ever had such an
ordeal as that to face! She had just seen her husband drive away from
his home, and in a few moments there was nothing left! I believe a
finger with his signet ring was subsequently found, but that was all.
Moscow, which had always respected and admired her, at once gave her
whole-hearted sympathy, which soon became a deep and true affection as
they learnt that she had determined to give her whole life and income to
their poor.
She founded the first order which has been introduced into Russia for
women's work amongst the sick and poor. When I was last in Moscow, she
explained to me its character, and it seemed to me to be a blend of the
Tertiaries of S. Francis and the deaconesses of the primitive church,
though the latter is the model she has wished to follow. She told me she
had ninety-six sisters in the order now, and that whilst some sick were
brought into their own wards many were visited in their own homes. It is
this visiting work that she hopes most to develop as time goes on. She
is, of course, by Baptism and Confirmation a member of our own Church,
and is full of interest and sympathy towards it, and usually attends the
Abbey service when in London, though she joined the Orthodox Church of
Russia during her married life. This, she told me, was without any
influence being brought to bear upon her, and entirely from conviction
that it was best for her own religious life in her adopted country.
She wore the simple and grey habit of her order, and it was difficult to
realize that she was a princess of the blood, and sister-in-law to the
Emperor himself, as she spoke so simply and humbly about her work, and
what she hoped still with the blessing of GOD to do. She does not cut
herself off, however, from life's ordinary relationships, for when later
at Tsarskoe Selo, I told the Emperor that I had been able to see her and
hear about her work, he said, "She is coming to spend a fortnight with
us this very afternoon."
That is what one meets everywhere in Russia, the unconventional and the
natural. The superior of a new order, which is an entirely fresh
departure, would be expected in any other country to give up everything
else in the way of social and family relationships. But in Russia, if a
perfectly natural thing like a visit to near relations suggests itself
as desirable the visit is duly paid.
It is so always! The splendid and the simple, high rank and humble birth
seem to find themselves close together, the rich and the poor unite so
easily in a common interest. "A gorgeous imperial procession was passing
through the palace hall," writes one who saw it at Tsarskoe Selo as a
specially grand function, "and two or three maid-servants appeared at
the head of a little staircase to look on, wearing print dresses. No one
told them to go away."[9] No one would think of it.
The Emperor loves the simple folk he governs, and showed it plainly
when in the earlier part of his reign he moved freely amongst them,
standing next to peasants and workmen in Moscow, when he stepped into a
church to pray. And after he returned from our own country, from the
marriage of King George, I read the other day, "somebody asked him what
had impressed him most. 'The crowd outside Buckingham Palace waiting to
see Queen Victoria drive out,' he said. 'There they waited, hour after
hour, and at last a little black carriage came out of the palace-gates.
Very few of the people in the crowd could see the Queen, but they knew
that she was there, and they went away satisfied. One day it will be
like that in Russia.'" And the writer adds: "I do not think the
Emperor's prophecy is likely to be realized in his lifetime; but a day
will come when his subjects will forget the mistakes that have been made
in his name, and recognize that they owe to him great reforms." I fancy
in subsequent editions, for his book well deserves to have them, he will
alter those words into "I feel sure that he will live to see it, and not
have long to wait."
[Illustration: _Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Elizabeth--The
Friend of the Poor._]
FOOTNOTES:
[8] _Our New Ally._
[9] Rothay Reynolds, _My Russian Year_.