Russian Life To-day

by Bp. Herbert Bury

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.