Arrival in St. Petersburg and First Impressions.—Features of Church-Religious Life.—The Richness of External Forms and Their Significance for Religious Life.—The Character of the Russian People and the Position of the Clergy.—A Searching Englishman and a Theologizing Hussar General.—Palmer’s Letter to Count Protasov

A few days later, Palmer was already strolling with the curiosity of a foreigner through the streets of St. Petersburg and taking note of the distinctive features of Russian life. It must be said that Russian life in general is so distinctive and at the same time so little known in the Western European world that every foreigner is involuntarily struck by the richness and variety of its original characteristics, which truly present to an observant eye an inexhaustible wealth of ethnographic study. When you travel in Western Europe from one state to another, you can scarcely notice any ethnographic or cultural transition. Everything is tinged with the uniform color of Romano-Germanic civilization. Russia, by contrast, strikes one at once with the typicality of its ethnographic and cultural originality, and every foreigner gazes with a sense of extraordinary interest at its individual features—from the “blue caftans and magnificent,” as Palmer puts it, “beards” of the Russian peasants, the distinctive harness, and the thunderously musical ringing and pealing of Russian bells, to the most complex manifestations of our social and civic life. For Palmer, the foremost interest was naturally in the manifestations of our ecclesiastical and religious life, and he pauses with curiosity on all its notable peculiarities. He visited churches, closely observed their external and internal features, and at first they made a mixed impression on him—of external grandeur and internal materialization of the religious spirit. The abundance of external forms in our church life visibly troubled his conscience, since at first he could not discern beneath them the rich inner content that fills them. He conveys the impression that a visit to Kazan Cathedral left on him in the following terms: “There was an excess of pious gesticulations—people bowing and crossing themselves, kissing icons, prostrating themselves on the ground and touching the floor with their foreheads (sometimes with an audible thud), bowing and crossing themselves again and again—men and women, old and young. Small candles were being purchased at the doors at a special counter, lit, and placed to burn (as it were in the name of those who set them up) on large candelabra before the iconostasis. Inside and outside the church there were many poor people, and in the doorways stood many beggars, to whom passers-by generously distributed kopecks. — The general impression produced by this church was one of great brilliance and magnificence, as well as elegance. The impression produced on me (at my first visit) by the outward piety of the people was one of amazement, curiosity, suspicion, and a certain confusion (so unlike were all these things to English customs, and they went so far even in comparison with Roman Catholic customs)—which, however, was at the same time mingled with respect for the simplicity, devoutness, and generosity in almsgiving with which this popular piety was accompanied.” The external side of the religious life of the Russian people—which is in essence the natural consequence of the richness of their inner spirit seeking outward and corresponding expression—will doubtless long remain an enigma to foreigners accustomed to the lean forms of a Protestantism poor in genuine religious spirit. As a result, it is perfectly understandable that Palmer found quite curious the following incident, which he recorded in his book: his cabman, who had driven him to Kazan Cathedral, upon receiving his fare returned a kopeck to him with the words: “For a candle in the church.” “That is,” explains the puzzled Englishman, “since the cabman could not himself leave his horse to go into the church to pray, his prayer could be represented in the church by his candle.” The entire inner moral and religious significance of this fact evidently escaped the foreigner’s superficial gaze, and it remained in his memory as a simple ethnographic curiosity.

Nevertheless, Russian ecclesiastical and religious life is so rich that even a foreigner’s prejudiced feelings cannot at certain moments resist its fascination. Palmer himself experienced such fascination when he visited the Church of the Ascension. “I could not,” he says, “penetrate far inside the church, as it was packed with people; but there was so much that was new and striking to me in the singing—melodious and distinct, unaccompanied by instruments—and in the very animation and feeling with which the people joined in the frequently repeated exclamation: Lord have mercy, that I remained in a state of enchanted attention for an hour or more, though I understood nothing. The pictures (icons) were resplendent and all illuminated. The sharp, trembling voices of the boys, combining with the low tones of the older singers, were very pleasing. The bells on the towers boomed from time to time. The officiating priests were invisible to me, as I was standing at the back. Never before had I heard anything so striking and so communal in divine worship.” Those among Englishmen and foreigners in general who stay in Russia somewhat longer and look more closely at our ecclesiastical and religious life grow considerably accustomed to it and themselves adopt some of its features. Thus Palmer tells of one Anglican lady who had no scruple about making the sign of the cross when sitting at a Russian table; and of one pastor—in other respects a very strict Protestant—who found nothing superstitious in this practice, contrary to the general Protestant view considered the sign of the cross perfectly harmless and edifying, and confessed that “he himself often made the sign of the cross, only secretly, under his clothing—for fear of the Jews.” In reality, the English themselves often acknowledge what an important advantage their Church has lost by abandoning, under the influence of the extreme Protestant tendency, its rich external forms. When a Russian asked whether the Anglican Church really differed from the Lutheran and came closer to the Russian Church, the British ambassador, Lord Clanricarde, replied: “If you examine our formularies and the writings of some of our former bishops and theologians, you will find in them much that will justify this representation of the Anglican Church. But if you go into our churches, you will see none of that at all. In practice everything has become so lean and so mediocre that religion has become among us repugnant to the upper classes of the people.”

Palmer’s observations extended to every aspect of the life and character of our people. Finding our people very religious, he at the same time does not lose sight of the disfiguring features of their habits and life. For instance, his eye was caught by the sad weakness of our people for marking their holidays with immoderate consumption of spirits. This custom has taken such root in the consciousness of the Russian people that, for example, Prince Golitsyn’s servant asked his master on the feast of Pascha for permission to go and “drink like other Christians.” Our peasants, in Palmer’s observation, observe with extraordinary strictness an oath sworn on an icon or cross. Therefore, when one Englishman wished to make his Russian servant swear on the cross that he would not drink, the man refused this oath, but went on swearing to his heart’s content in other ways. From his fellow Englishmen, Palmer heard numerous complaints that Russian domestic servants refused during fast periods to share their ordinary non-fasting table with them and demanded fasting food, making the cost of keeping servants considerably higher. The Russian people strictly observe the fasts, but then “fasting produces a reaction in them and passes, once the fast is over, into excess—even among the upper classes and the clergy.” As for the actual condition and position of the clergy, Palmer’s observations are of less interest, since they point primarily to features that have already become a thing of the past—such as, for example, the system of purchasing appointments. He notes with curiosity, among other things, the following incident: a priest’s daughter, who had received a better education than was customary among the clergy, was compelled to marry a young man who had to take over her father’s position, despite her wish to marry a military officer or a secular man in general. “Nevertheless, she continues to attend dancing parties and other evening entertainments, which is unusual for a priest’s wife, and some of the officers like to tease her when chatting with her or inviting her to dance by calling her matushka.” The social standing of our clergy at that time was, as is well known, far from enviable, and Palmer notes instances of bishops being compelled to wait humbly in antechambers for an audience with high-ranking personages.

Having familiarized himself with St. Petersburg, Palmer at last resolved to proceed with the fulfillment of his primary mission and, to this end, called on the Ober-Procurator of the Holy Synod, Count Protasov, presenting him with his letters of recommendation and also with the letter of accreditation from the Warden of Magdalen College. Count Protasov received Palmer cordially. Palmer expounded before him his theory of the universal Church and of the relation of the three chief present communions to it and to one another. This theory served as the subject of a rather extended conversation, in which Count Protasov displayed a familiarity with ecclesiastical and theological subjects that was quite considerable for a “hussar general.” “I am not a theologian but a soldier,” he said to Palmer, “but, moving constantly among the clergy, I cannot help knowing something about matters of this kind. If I were a bishop, I would first of all ask you concerning your doctrine and Creed; and if you were to speak of union with us on the same basis as might have been possible 1,000 or 800 years ago, then, in view of the fact that many divisions have taken place in the West since that time and many questions have arisen which have never formally been brought to our attention, I would ask for further examination and agreement.”

“That is entirely reasonable,” replied Palmer.

“In that case,” the Count continued, “what do you say about the sacraments?”

“Concerning the Eucharist, I would say that the bread is applied, becomes, and is the very body of Christ spiritually and supernaturally, while not ceasing physically, in the order of nature, to be bread. By this we deny the Roman doctrine of transubstantiation. And I have noted that in the Russian translation of the Eighteen Articles of the Council of Bethlehem of 1672, the use of the two correlative terms—‘substance’ and ‘accidents’—is excluded; the latter word is likewise not admitted in the Russian catechism, so that neither of these two Russian documents is in contradiction with Orthodox doctrine.”

To understand this passage in Palmer’s speech more clearly, a brief historical note is in order—namely, regarding the fate of the decrees of the aforementioned Council of Bethlehem of 1672. This council, known among us as the Jerusalem Council, was held under Patriarch Dositheus, who, zealous for Orthodoxy, endeavored to define precise Orthodox principles at it, in opposition to the earlier council held under Cyril Lucaris, who was accused of a manifest inclination toward Calvinism. The Council of 1672 did indeed condemn the acts of the earlier council; but if Cyril Lucaris inclined toward Calvinism, Dositheus, in his zealous opposition to him, fell into the opposite extreme, and in setting forth the Orthodox faith he yielded too incautiously to the influence of Roman Catholic teaching. Thus he overstepped the bounds of Orthodoxy in his exposition of the Orthodox Church’s doctrine concerning the Eucharist, fully adopting the Latin terminology regarding transubstantiation; he accepted the canon of Holy Scripture entirely in accordance with the definition of the Council of Trent, and admitted certain other Roman Catholic views—such as the restriction of the reading of Holy Scripture by laypeople. The decrees of this council were sent to Russia by the Greek patriarchs in 1723 together with a letter from Patriarch Jeremiah, in which the Eastern patriarchs expressed their fraternal recognition of the ecclesiastical-administrative standing of the Holy Synod—the newly established organ of Church administration in Russia—and as a result these decrees acquired special significance for the Russian Church. Their importance demanded corresponding dissemination, and thus the decrees, or so-called Eighteen Articles of the Jerusalem Council, were translated into Russian for distribution as a symbolic document of the truly Orthodox Church. But when the publication of them in Russian was undertaken, the watchful eye of a strict guardian of Orthodoxy (Metropolitan Philaret) immediately detected the dogmatic inaccuracies that had crept into these articles, and it was therefore deemed necessary to make certain changes and corrections in the Russian edition—specifically, the propositions regarding the canon of Holy Scripture were corrected, and the extremes of the Roman Catholic view on the sacrament of the Eucharist were softened. This fact undoubtedly expressed a certain divergence in Greco-Russian theological thought, and at the same time revealed a degree of imprecision and instability in the positive dogmatic views of the Orthodox Church—such that persons of heterodox confessions can easily find in the Orthodox Church whatever particular ecclesiastical-dogmatic principles happen to be of interest to them at any given moment. Palmer also took advantage of this divergence, as he noted in his conversation with Count Protasov. As is known, the Anglican Church rejects transubstantiation in the Eucharist in its extreme Roman Catholic sense, while admitting it, so to speak, in a limited spiritual sense, as is evident from the definition cited above, given by Palmer. It was therefore very important for representatives of the Anglican Church to find confirmation of their own view in the teaching of the Orthodox Church; but the original text of the decrees of the Jerusalem Council—which had, among other things, been sent to the British bishops who in 1716 had entered into correspondence with the Eastern patriarchs regarding the union of the churches, as the most precise statement of Orthodox teaching—obviously precluded any such possibility. Hence the interest with which Palmer points to the changes introduced in the Russian edition of these decrees as compared to the original—changes made precisely in the direction of purging them of Roman Catholic influence.

Count Protasov appeared to be surprised that Palmer was aware of the changes made to the decrees of the Jerusalem Council, but confirmed the fact and remarked from his side: “It may be that between these churches (the Orthodox and the Roman Catholic) there are shades of difference on a subject that surpasses our understanding; but as for me, without claiming to speak positively, I think that the Greek Church agrees (that is, agrees without restriction) with the Roman doctrine. The difference lies in the fact that the Greeks make the invocation of the Holy Spirit, rather than a simple repetition of the words of Christ, as the moment of consecration of the gifts.” The Count then moved to the question of the veneration of icons and found Palmer fairly liberal in that he did not call it idolatry. “But this,” the Count added, “is the usual slander against us (from the heterodox), even though they do not call us idolaters for bowing before the Sovereign or even before an image of the Sovereign.” Having then heard an exposition of Anglican teaching in general, Count Protasov was considerably astonished by it; it was so new to him that he was not satisfied with conversing about the Anglican Church with Palmer alone, but resolved to discuss it also with the governess of his wife, who was English by birth. “My wife,” said the Count, “has an English governess or companion—quite a good woman. I shall have a talk with them about this too—it is all so new to me.” Throughout the entire conversation with Palmer, Count Protasov endeavored to hold strictly to the ground of the Orthodox Church, and did not fail to express regret that even the best of our hierarchs—who ought to know Orthodox dogmatics more thoroughly than a hussar general—can easily depart from that ground. Pointing to the Calvinist sympathies of the English, Count Protasov remarked: “Among us too, a whiff of Calvinism or Protestantism began to appear, which blew in from Metropolitan Platon. [Filaret] also had inclinations of that kind, and especially Michael, the late Metropolitan of Kiev. But all this has been corrected, and now an Orthodox reaction has begun. We told the Metropolitan of Moscow that if he wishes to show himself a good and humble Christian, he must, with the assistance of his brethren, review and correct his former catechism; and he did so, correcting it and supplying its previous omissions.”

What Palmer thought of this outburst from the hussar general as he zealously championed Orthodoxy and accused the finest hierarchs of the Russian Church of deviating from it—he modestly passes over in silence, and records only the further theological discourse of Count Protasov.

In conclusion, the Count expressed a wish that Palmer set forth his plans and his mission in writing. “I will translate your paper,” he said. “The Court will soon return here, and then I will show it to the Sovereign when I make my next report, or I will mention it in general and draw his attention to it. Meanwhile, since your intentions appear good and your undertaking is unusual, we will do everything to assist you. As to the wish you have expressed to settle in a theological academy, I have some doubt in this regard, although of course the white or secular clergy are less bound by instruction than the black. But we shall see. If you come tomorrow at one o’clock in the afternoon to the Synod, I will introduce you to my colleague, Muravyov, who, though a layman, possesses great knowledge of ecclesiastical affairs. We shall consider it our duty to do for you everything that is within our power, since unity is a duty of the Church, and we all pray for it.”

In accordance with Count Protasov’s wish, Palmer wrote him a letter that same day in Latin, in which he said the following: Your Excellency, you ask why I have come to Russia and what I am seeking to obtain from the grace of the Sovereign. I answer: having become a member of Magdalen College in the University of Oxford, I thought that I could not better obey the statutes of the founder of our college, or better prepare for the ecclesiastical and academic life that lay before me, or better serve the needs of the British Church in which I was baptized, than by a journey abroad while I was still young, and by a careful examination of those theological questions that have been the cause of such unhappy and long-standing divisions among the apostolic churches. Since I knew that I had been baptized not into the English, or Roman, or Western, or Eastern, but into the Catholic or universal faith, religion, and Church, and at the same time saw that this Catholic and Apostolic Church—as defined by my immediate mother-church, the British—was divided into various and (it is terrible to contemplate) even hostile communions, it seemed to me desirable to ascertain the truth accurately concerning the charges leveled against us by foreigners, not merely by reading the polemical writings of our own authors, but by hearing from the opposing parties themselves, and thereafter to acquire as exact a knowledge as possible of the theology of the other apostolic churches, so that in the future, in my scholarly pursuits, I might with God’s help have greater scope for treating the scholarly questions raised in the University of Oxford—all this with the hope and aim that, through a more precise clarification of the causes of difference and hostility, it might become easier to limit and remove mutual suspicions and perhaps even errors—opinions on non-essential matters (for I speak not of the necessity of the faith itself)—in a word, that it might become possible better to address those questions, the resolution of which, whether in our time or in the time of our descendants, might lead to the restoration of the most longed-for unity of the Church.

Beginning in 1833, with this aim I first visited the churches of the Latins on the Continent and became acquainted with their theology (that is, with the teaching of the Roman Pope, to whom they are subject), and thereafter studied the views of the Calvinists and Lutherans. Now, with the approval of the President of my College, I have come to acquaint myself with the Eastern, and in particular the Russian, Church.

I humbly beg of the Sovereign his gracious attention to my undertaking, that he might deign to recommend me to the venerable clergy of his empire, so that, living in a theological academy, or in some monastery, or with a bishop, or in some other arrangement as may be judged best, I might with the help and in the company of clergymen study the Russian language and examine the doctrine, discipline, and rites of the Church. If permission for this request is granted to me, I hope in the future, through the translation of Russian books into English, to contribute somewhat in England, and in particular at the University of Oxford, toward a fuller and more accurate knowledge of the apostolic churches of the East, toward the strengthening of our own Church—now assailed at once by papists and by heretical Protestants, and no longer defended by the state as it once was—through acquaintance with Eastern catholicity; and finally, through the softening of prejudices and antipathies, toward the healing of the present local fragmentation of the Catholic Church and the reunion of the whole body in mutual love…

Learning that there are persons in the theological academy in St. Petersburg who read English, I have brought with me several select books—works of our finest theologians—as a gift to the academy’s library. Some of them were given for this purpose by their authors and by members of the University of Oxford who, knowing of my intention, wished thereby to show that they labor and pray not only for their own people, or only for the Western world, but for their Eastern brethren as well, just as for the whole universal Church.

As for myself personally, I find it necessary to add that from the time of my entry into the bounds of the diocese of the Russian bishops, I acknowledge no other church as true and lawful in these lands except the Russian Church, and I am subject—at least within the bounds of my own will—to no other jurisdiction than that of the Russian bishops. This does not mean that I have come from some heresy or schism to seek reunion with the Church of God in Russia; but, being myself a Catholic Orthodox Christian, as I believe, and coming from a Catholic, Orthodox, Apostolic Church, I seek from the lawful and canonical bishops of the country, wherever I may be, and from each of them individually in his own diocese, the ordinary right of communion.

Such is the answer I had to make to Your Excellency; and to your discretion and to the gracious benevolence of the Sovereign I commend my petition, praying to our Lord Jesus Christ for nothing other than that which conduces to peace and concord—not only among all the churches, but among all Christian states. I have the honor to remain, etc.

«St. Petersburg, August 27, 1840.»

This letter presents a fairly complete account of Palmer’s own views on the relationship among the three principal Christian Churches. How these views were received by representatives of our theological thought will be shown on the next occasion.