On The Edge Of The World

I

Early one evening, during the Christmas holidays, we were sitting at tea in the large blue drawing-room of the episcopal palace. There were seven guests; the eighth was our host, a very aged archbishop, who was both sickly and infirm. All were highly educated men, and the conversation turned on the subject of our faith and our scepticism, of the preaching in our churches, and of the enlightening labours of our missionaries in the East. One of the guests, a certain captain B., of the Navy, who was a very kind-hearted man, but a great antagonist of the Russian clergy, maintained that our missionaries were quite unfit for their work, and was delighted that the government had now permitted foreign evangelical pastors to labour in the propagation of the Gospel. B. asserted his firm conviction that these preachers would have great success, not only among the Jews, but everywhere, and would prove, as surely as two and two make four, the incapacity of the Russian clergy for missionary work.

Our respected host had remained profoundly silent during this conversation; he sat in his large arm-chair, with a plaid over his legs, and seemed to be thinking of quite other things, but when B. ceased speaking the old ecclesiastic sighed and said:

“It appears to me, gentlemen, that you are wrong in controverting the Captain’s opinion. I think he is right: the foreign missionaries will certainly have great success here in Russia.”

“I am very happy, Vladyko, that you share my opinion,” answered Captain B., and after paying several becoming and delicate compliments to the Archbishop on his well-known intelligence, culture, and nobility of character, he continued:

“Your Eminence knows better than I do the defects of the Russian Church; there are, of course, many wise and good men to be found among the clergy – I do not wish to contest this – but they scarcely understand Christ. Their position – and other reasons – obliges them to explain everything in too narrow a manner…“

The Archbishop looked at him, smiled and answered:

“Yes, Captain, my modesty would not be offended if I admit that perhaps I know the sorrows of the Church no less than you do, but justice would be offended if I decided to agree with you that in Russia our Lord Christ is understood less well than in Tübingen, London, or Geneva.”

“About that, Vladyko, one can argue too.”

The Archbishop smiled again and said:

“I see you are fond of arguing. What are we to do with you? We can talk, but avoid argument.”

With these words he took from the table a large album, richly bound and ornamented with carved ivory, and opening it, said:

“Here is our Lord. Come and see. I have collected in this book many representations of His face. Here He is sitting at the well with the Woman of Samaria – the workmanship is wonderful; it is evident that the artist understood the face and the moment.”

“Yes, Vladyko, I also think it is executed with understanding,” answered B.

“But is there not here in this Godly face too much softness? Does it not appear to you, that He is too indifferent as to how many husbands this woman has had, and does not mind that her present husband is not her husband?”

All remained silent; the Archbishop noticed this and continued:

“I think that here a little more seriousness in the expression would not have been amiss.”

“You are perhaps right, Vladyko.”

“It is a very popular picture. I have seen it often, especially amongst ladies. Let us go on. Another great master. Here Christ is portrayed kissing Judas. What do you say to our Lord’s face in this picture? What restraint and goodness! Is it not so? A beautiful picture!”

“A beautiful face.”

“Still, is there not here too much effort at restraint? Look, the left cheek appears to me to tremble, and on the lips there seems disgust!”

“Certainly there is, Vladyko.”

“Oh, yes, but Judas did not deserve it; he was a slave, and a flatterer – he could easily have produced such a feeling in everybody else – but certainly not in Christ, who was never fastidious, and was sorry for all. Well, we will pass on; this one does not quite satisfy us I think, although I know a great dignitary, who told me that he could not imagine a more successful representation of Christ than this picture. Here we have Christ again – and from the brush of a great master, too – Titian. The wily Pharisee with a denarius is standing before the Lord. Look what an artful old man, but Christ… Christ… Oh! I am afraid! Look, is there not disdain on His face?”

“There might have been at the moment, Vladyko.”

“Yes – there might – I do not deny it; the old man is vile, but I, when I pray, do not imagine the Lord thus, and think it would be unseemly. Is it not so?”

We answered that it would and agreed that to imagine the face of Christ with such an expression would be unseemly, especially when addressing prayers to Him.

“I quite agree with you in this and it recalls to my memory a dispute I once had on this very subject with a certain diplomatist, who only liked this Christ; but of course the occasion was a diplomatic one. Let us go on. After this one you see, I have pictures of the Lord where He is alone without any neighbours. Here you have a reproduction of the beautiful head done by the sculptor Cauer. Good, very good. That cannot be denied. What do you think? And yet this academic head reminds me much less of Christ than of Plato. Here He is again, the sufferer. What a terrible expression Metsu has given him; I cannot understand why he has portrayed him beaten, thrashed and bleeding. It is certainly terrible! Swollen eye-lids, blood stains, bruises… It appears as if the very soul had been beaten out of Him, and to gaze only on a suffering body is too terrible. Let us turn the page quickly. He inspires sympathy and nothing more. Here we have Lafond, perhaps an insignificant artist, but much appreciated at present; as you see, he has understood Christ differently from all the preceding artists, and has represented Him differently, for himself and for us. The figure is well proportioned and attractive. The face is serene and dovelike. He looks out from under pure brows, and how easily the hair seems to stir; here are curls; there the locks seem to have fluttered and rested on the forehead. Beautiful, is it not? And in His hand there is a flaming heart, surrounded by a thorny wreath. This is the ‘Sacré Cœur,’ that the Jesuit Fathers preach about. Somebody told me it was they who had inspired M. Lafond to paint this image; however, it also pleases those who think they have nothing in common with the Jesuit Fathers. I remember once on a hard, frosty day, I happened to call on a Russian Prince in Petersburg, who showed me the wonders of his mansion, and it was there in his winter-garden – not quite in the right setting – that I saw this image of Christ for the first time. The picture in its frame stood on a table, before which the Princess was seated, lost in thought. The surroundings were beautiful: palms, arums, banana-plants, warbling and fluttering birds, and she was lost in thought. About what? She said to me she was seeking Christ. It was then that I was able to examine this portrait. Look how effectively He really stands out, or it would be better to say emerges from this darkness; there is nothing behind him: not even the conventional prophets who have wearied all by their importunity, and are running in their rags after the imperial chariot, and catching hold of it. There is nothing of this – only darkness… a world of imagination. This lady – may God accord her health – was the first to unfold to me the secret of how to find Christ; after which I do not dispute with the Captain that the foreign preachers will not only show Him to the Jews, but to all who wish Him to come under the palms and banana plants to listen to the singing of canaries. But will He come there? May it not be some other who will come to them in His guise? I must own to you, I would willingly exchange this elegant Christ surrounded by canaries for this other Jewish head of Guercino’s, although it too only has to me the appearance of a good and enthusiastic rabbi, according to the description of M. Renan, whom one could love and listen to with pleasure… You see how many different ways there are of understanding and portraying Him, Who is our only need. Let us now close the book and turn to the corner behind your backs: there again we have the image of Christ – but this time it is indeed not a face but a real image. Here we have the typical Russian representation of our Lord: the gaze is straight and simple, the forehead is high, which, as you know, even according to Lavater’s system, denotes the capacity for elevated worship of God; the face has expression, but no passion. How did our old masters attain such charm of representation? That has remained the secret, which died with them and their rejected art. Simplicity – nothing more simple could be wished for in art. The features are only slightly marked, but the effect is complete. He is somewhat rustic, certainly, but for all that inspires adoration. I do not know what others feel, but for me our simple old master understood better than all others, Whom he was painting. He is rustic, I repeat, and He will not be invited into the conservatory to listen to the singing of canaries, but what of that? In each land as He revealed Himself, so He will walk; to us He entered in the guise of a slave, and as such He walks among us, not finding where to lay His head, from Petersburg to Kamchatka. It is evident, in our country it pleases Him to accept disgrace from those who drink His blood, and at the same time shed it. And thus, in the same measure as our national art has understood how to portray the outward features of Christ more simply and successfully, so, to my mind, our national spirit has perhaps also attained nearer to the true understanding of His inner character. Would you like me to relate to you an experience which perhaps is not devoid of interest, bearing on this subject?”

“Ah, please relate it, Vladyko; we all beg you to do so.”

“Ah, you beg me. Very well, then, I beg you to listen, and not to interrupt my story which I am going to tell somewhat in detail.”

We cleared our throats, settled ourselves comfortably in our chairs, so as not to interrupt by moving, and the Archbishop began.