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.
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.