Russian Life To-day

by Bp. Herbert Bury

London is very different in that respect on Sunday mornings, whatever it is later in the day, from every capital in the world. All is quiet, and Church and worship are in the air. Then the archbishop told me of his going to S. Paul’s Cathedral, sitting in the congregation, and enjoying it all, until it had gradually come home to him during the Second Lesson that something was being read from one of the Gospels. On finding by inquiry that this was so, he rose at once to his feet, and looked with amazement upon the people sitting all round him while the Holy Gospel was being read. I’m afraid my telling him that we always stand for it in the Liturgy only added to his surprise, for he murmured to himself in a puzzled way, “Why in one place and not in another?”

Dear old man, he presented me with his portrait, here given, and all his published works, and hoped, as I do, that it would not be long before I went to see him again.

When at length the Metropolitan Antonius, after a long illness, passed away, he was succeeded by the Archbishop of Moscow who, in his turn, was succeeded by Archbishop Macarius, and it is of the last-named that I will next give briefly my experience. It was on January 10, 1914, according to our calendar, and on December 28, 1913, according to the Russian, when I had the feeling of being in two years at the same time, and of spending the same Christmas first in London and then in Russia, that he received me in his palace at Moscow. Palace it certainly is in the character and spaciousness of its rooms, but the furniture is what we should consider, in our own country, simple and rather conventional. The salon, or drawing-room, was very large, with the usual polished floor and rugs laid upon it. At one side two rows of chairs, facing each other, stood out from the wall, against which a sofa was placed, and in front of that a table. It was exactly the same at the Archiepiscopal Palace at Riga, where I had been a few months before, and the same procedure was followed on both occasions.

The Convent at Ekaterinburg, Siberia.

First the archbishop warmly embraced me, kissing me on either cheek and then upon the lips, and then courteously waved me to the seat of honour upon the sofa. At Riga when the archbishop took his seat upon the sofa he indicated the place beside him which I did not notice, and took the chair. But just as I was about to sit down, Madame Alexaieff, who had most kindly come to interpret, said hurriedly and in rather a shocked tone, “Take the seat beside him, he wishes it,” and, remembering the etiquette of the sofa as observed still by old-fashioned people in Germany, I did as I was told.

At Moscow, however, I was more observant, and when the archbishop courteously waved his hand to the sofa I bowed to him and at once sat down, but only to find that he himself took a chair next me and left me alone in the place of dignity. It was quite in keeping with his whole bearing and conversation throughout, for he is evidently one of the most humble and unassuming of men. Yet he has covered himself with distinction in the course of his long life spent chiefly far away in the Altai country in Siberia, below Omsk, engaged in work of a missionary character. No one is more respected in the whole of Russia. He is just as shown in the portrait he gave me, slight and not tall, and his whole face lights up with keen interest as he talks and enforces his words with appropriate gestures. He was very caustic upon the subject of the non-attendance at church of educated and wealthy people in a certain place, which perhaps it will be kinder not to mention.

“No,” he said, “they are never to be seen at any service, however important and solemn it may be. There are none there but the same common people who are always crowding into their churches. At least,” he added more deliberately, “if the others are there, they adopt the common people’s dress for the occasion!”

His expression and gesture as he said this were inimitable and indescribable, and the little touch of humour made one’s heart warm towards him. He was much interested in hearing anything I could tell him of our own Church, and delighted, in a wistful sort of way, to hear the many details I gave him of its progress, especially in the extension of its missionary activities and ever-deepening interest in social questions and economic problems, as they affect the labouring classes and the very poor. His eyes sparkled as he too spoke of the poor, and told me what I should hear from the Grand Duchess Elizabeth, whom I was to see that afternoon, about the work to which she has given her life since the assassination of her husband, the Grand Duke Serge.