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2021년 6월 29일 (화) 23:22 판

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	The journey from London to Petrograd, travelling all the way round by Norway, Sweden, and Finland, took us a good ten days, instead of the forty-eight hours in which it can be done in time of peace, when the direct line from Ostend through Berlin is open. We had a perfectly horrible passage across the North Sea from Newcastle to Bergen in Norway. A violent gale was blowing from the south-east (where presumably all the German submarine mines were), the seas were literally “mountains high,” and as

	The journey from London to Petrograd, travelling all the way round by Norway, Sweden, and Finland, took us a good ten days, instead of the forty-eight hours in which it can be done in time of peace, when the direct line from Ostend through Berlin is open. We had a perfectly horrible passage across the North Sea from Newcastle to Bergen in Norway. A violent gale was blowing from the south-east (where presumably all the German submarine mines were), the seas were literally “mountains high,” and as

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*Posted near Ekaterinburg, Russia.

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Posted near Ekaterinburg, Russia.

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the little Norwegian steamer Vega, in which we were travelling, is only meant for coast traffic, it is not surprising that she got a good bit knocked about and arrived at Bergen nearly twelve hours late. Never was I more thankful to set foot on terra firma again, as for a good part of the journey I hardly thought we should reach the shore in safety. But, doubtless in answer to your prayers and those of our good patron, Saint Nicolas, God sent His holy angels to watch over us and to bring us unto “the haven where we would be.” (The Psalm for the 22nd morning was certainly never said by any of us in more appropriate surroundings !) There was one terrible moment, when the storm was at its height, which I shall never forget. We were all perhaps a little more nervous and “jumpy” about the possibility of running into a submarine mine than any of us cared to admit. And when we were still a good 100 miles from land, and the ship was pitching and tossing at its worst, there was suddenly a loud explosion, followed by the crashing and splintering of wood, iron, glass, and crockery. What exactly happened I do not know. The ship's officers said afterwards that she had been struck by a tremendously heavy sea, which stove in (or at least bent) the iron plates of which the side of the ship is built and apparently cracked some of the steel stanchions and supports of which its framework is formed. Anyhow, the noise was sufficiently terrifying under the circumstances. The cabin next to that in which Fr. Marshall was lying (we were all pretty sea-sick) was wrecked, and he himself got a nasty (though not serious) cut on the head in consequence. You can imagine, therefore, how glad we were to find ourselves safely ashore by Thursday midnight: and you must join your thanksgivings with ours that God brought us safely through it all. After all this we thought we were entitled to treat ourselves to a good night's rest and a day to recover our-selves ashore, in the interesting old Norwegian town of Bergen. Norway, of course, is a Lutheran and Protestant country. But in its churches it has retained much of the old externals of Catholic Worship. The interesting old church of St. Mary has a splendid old triptych, or reredos, over the altar (which is the old stone one), containing beautifully carved figures of Our Lady and the Holy Child, the whole surmounted by a fine Crucifix with SS. Mary and John, and surrounded by figures of a number of other saints. And in the sacristy the verger showed us the chasubles of crimson velvet and gold still used at the Lord's Supper, a lordly old medieval Chalice and paten of silver-gilt, and a little silver-gilt pyx con-taining the wafers used at Communion. And this in a Protestant Church! What would Mr. Kensit say? On Friday night we left Bergen by train for the twenty-four hours' journey across Norway and Sweden, which brought us to Stockholm (the capital of the latter country) late on Saturday night. We had not been able to book farther than this in London. So we had to go to a Hotel and make our further plans. We found it was not possible to cross the Baltic or Gulf of Bothnia into Finland, even in a

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the little Norwegian steamer Vega, in which we were travelling, is only meant for coast traffic, it is not surprising that she got a good bit knocked about and arrived at Bergen nearly twelve hours late. Never was I more thankful to set foot on terra firma again, as for a good part of the journey I hardly thought we should reach the shore in safety. But, doubtless in answer to your prayers and those of our good patron, Saint Nicolas, God sent His holy angels to watch over us and to bring us unto “the haven where we would be.” (The Psalm for the 22nd morning was certainly never said by any of us in more appropriate surroundings !) There was one terrible moment, when the storm was at its height, which I shall never forget. We were all perhaps a little more nervous and “jumpy” about the possibility of running into a submarine mine than any of us cared to admit. And when we were still a good 100 miles from land, and the ship was pitching and tossing at its worst, <span style="color:green">there was suddenly a loud explosion, followed by the crashing and splintering of wood, iron, glass, and crockery.</span> What exactly happened I do not know. The ship's officers said afterwards that she had been struck by a tremendously heavy sea, which stove in (or at least bent) the iron plates of which the side of the ship is built and apparently cracked some of the steel stanchions and supports of which its framework is formed. Anyhow, the noise was sufficiently terrifying under the circumstances. The cabin next to that in which Fr. Marshall was lying (we were all pretty sea-sick) was wrecked, and he himself got a nasty (though not serious) cut on the head in consequence. You can imagine, therefore, how glad we were to find ourselves safely ashore by Thursday midnight: and you must join your thanksgivings with ours that God brought us safely through it all. <span style="color:blue">After all this we thought we were entitled to treat ourselves to a good night's rest and a day to recover our-selves ashore, in the interesting old Norwegian town of Bergen. Norway, of course, is a Lutheran and Protestant country.</span> But in its churches it has retained much of the old externals of Catholic Worship. The interesting old church of St. Mary has a splendid old triptych, or reredos, over the altar (which is the old stone one), containing beautifully carved figures of Our Lady and the Holy Child, the whole surmounted by a fine Crucifix with SS. Mary and John, and surrounded by figures of a number of other saints. And in the sacristy the verger showed us the chasubles of crimson velvet and gold still used at the Lord's Supper, a lordly old medieval Chalice and paten of silver-gilt, and a little silver-gilt pyx con-taining the wafers used at Communion. And this in a Protestant Church! What would Mr. Kensit say? On Friday night we left Bergen by train for the twenty-four hours' journey across Norway and Sweden, which brought us to Stockholm (the capital of the latter country) late on Saturday night. We had not been able to book farther than this in London. So we had to go to a Hotel and make our further plans. We found it was not possible to cross the Baltic or Gulf of Bothnia into Finland, even in a Swedish ship, without running the risk of being stopped and taken prisoners of war by the Germans. So we agreed (the party con-sisting of Fr. Alfred Hewlett, going to Japan, and Fr. French, going to Petrograd, besides Fr. Marshall and myself) to start on Monday night and travel all the way up to the North of Sweden by train, right round the Gulf of Bothnia and so to cross the Swedish-Russian frontier near Lapland and get to Petrograd through Finland. It was a long and tedious journey, taking four days, involving one uncomfortable night in the Swedish frontier fortress town of Boden, and a drive (in a motor !) of nearly twenty miles, on the edge of the Arctic Circle, from the terminus of the Swedish railway at Karungi, to the Russian terminus at Tornea in Finland. But it brought us safely to Petrograd by Friday midnight (October 30), exactly ten days after leaving England. Before we leave Sweden, however, I ought to mention the extremely kind hospitality we received from the English Chaplain at Stockholm, the Rev. J. H. Swinstead, and his wife. There is quite a nice little English Church (SS. Peter and Sigfrid) at which we were able to make our Communions on Sunday morning and in which I had to say the inevitable “few words” on Sunday night. On Monday the Chaplain carried us all off on a never-to-be-forgotten visit to the interesting old Swedish Metropolis, Upsala, where we were cour-teously met and shown over the ancient (but rather over-restored) Cathedral of the Archbishop-elect, Dr. Sodenblom, and the Dean. Besides the beautiful old shrine, still containing the relies of St. Eric, and the interesting tombs of Gustavus Vasa and other Swedish monarchs, the Cathedral boasts a beautiful treasury, with a splendid collection of old medieval copes, mitres, and chasubles, besides the more modern ones still in use. The Swedish Church, though Lutheran in doctrine, claims to have maintained, as we do, the Episcopal succession. And the Dean pointed out to me, with pride, the grave of the last Archbishop of Upsala who received consecration in Rome itself, and who passed on the succession to the first reformed Archbishop, in the sixteenth century. The other great treasure of Upsala which we were privileged to see was the “Codex Argesteus,” or famous old Gothic version of the Gospels, written in silver letters on purple vellum, and dating back to the sixth century A.D. This is preserved in the University Library. and was most courteously shown to us by the University Librarian himself.

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Swedish ship, without running the risk of being stopped and taken prisoners of war by the Germans. So we agreed (the party con-sisting of Fr. Alfred Hewlett, going to Japan, and Fr. French, going to Petrograd, besides Fr. Marshall and myself) to start on Monday night and travel all the way up to the North of Sweden by train, right round the Gulf of Bothnia and so to cross the Swedish-Russian frontier near Lapland and get to Petrograd through Finland. It was a long and tedious journey, taking four days, involving one uncomfortable night in the Swedish frontier fortress town of Boden, and a drive (in a motor !) of nearly twenty miles, on the edge of the Arctic Circle, from the terminus of the Swedish railway at Karungi, to the Russian terminus at Tornea in Finland. But it brought us safely to Petrograd by Friday midnight (October 30), exactly ten days after leaving England. Before we leave Sweden, however, I ought to mention the extremely kind hospitality we received from the English Chaplain at Stockholm, the Rev. J. H. Swinstead, and his wife. There is quite a nice little English Church (SS. Peter and Sigfrid) at which we were able to make our Communions on Sunday morning and in which I had to say the inevitable “few words” on Sunday night. On Monday the Chaplain carried us all off on a never-to-be-forgotten visit to the interesting old Swedish Metropolis, Upsala, where we were cour-teously met and shown over the ancient (but rather over-restored) Cathedral of the Archbishop-elect, Dr. Sodenblom, and the Dean. Besides the beautiful old shrine, still containing the relies of St. Eric, and the interesting tombs of Gustavus Vasa and other Swedish monarchs, the Cathedral boasts a beautiful treasury, with a splendid collection of old medieval copes, mitres, and chasubles, besides the more modern ones still in use. The Swedish Church, though Lutheran in doctrine, claims to have maintained, as we do, the Episcopal succession. And the Dean pointed out to me, with pride, the grave of the last Archbishop of Upsala who received consecration in Rome itself, and who passed on the succession to the first reformed Archbishop, in the sixteenth century. The other great treasure of Upsala which we were privileged to see was the “Codex Argesteus,” or famous old Gothic version of the Gospels, written in silver letters on purple vellum, and dating back to the sixth century A.D. This is preserved in the University Library. and was most courteously shown to us by the University Librarian himself.

	Reaching Petrograd on Friday at midnight, we drove straight to the hotel, where I stayed with Fr. Cooper on our way through last June. But on Saturday the English Chaplain, the Rev. B. S. Lombard, insisted that I and Fr. Marshall should transfer our quarters to the spacious and comfortable premises of the English Chaplaincy, on the well-known English quay, which overlooks the river Neva. And here we stayed and were most hospitably enter-tained until we were able to complete our plans for starting on the long journey across Siberia on Wednesday night, November 4.

	Reaching Petrograd on Friday at midnight, we drove straight to the hotel, where I stayed with Fr. Cooper on our way through last June. But on Saturday the English Chaplain, the Rev. B. S. Lombard, insisted that I and Fr. Marshall should transfer our quarters to the spacious and comfortable premises of the English Chaplaincy, on the well-known English quay, which overlooks the river Neva. And here we stayed and were most hospitably enter-tained until we were able to complete our plans for starting on the long journey across Siberia on Wednesday night, November 4.

Nothing could exceed the kindness of the welcome we received from Fr. Lombard, his colleague, Fr. Barns, and, indeed, all at the English Chaplaincy. The calendar in Russia is you know thirteen days behind that of Western Europe. So that, although, we, in saying our offices, had arrived at October 31, the eve of All Saints, they were only just keeping the Feast of St. Luke (October 18), which I had kept at St. John the Divine, Kennington, on the Sunday before I left England ! However, Fr. Lombard was good enough to put the altar in his beautifully appointed chapel at our disposal, and we were thus enabled to celebrate the feast of All Saints and the Commemoration of All Souls, which otherwise we should have missed altogether, as by the time we get to Corea and Japan, we shall be among people who use the western calendar again! We went to some of the beautiful (but rather lengthy) services of the Russian Church in the cathedrals of St. Isaac and Our Lady of Kazan. But the one which affected me most was, I think, Vespers in the beautiful little new church of “Christ walking on the waters,” built in memory of all Russian sailors who lost their lives in the Russo-Japanese war. The church is small but very lofty, and most beautifully decorated--the apse over the altar beng filled with a gigantic and most “sympathetic” mosaic of our Lord walking on the waves, while the rest of the walls are covered with memorials of the ships and their crews, lost at Port Arthur, etc. Many of these memorials consist of the actual “icons” or pictures of the Saints, rescued from the ships. In front of these, lamps are kept burning, and these, with the candles similarly placed (with a silent prayer for some departed soul) in front of the sacred pictures by a constant stream of worshippers--men, women, and little children--provide the only light in the sacred building, apart from the brilliant illumination of the sanctuary, with its life-like mosaic. The plaintive music of the Russian Church is rendered (without accompaniment) in beautiful harmonies by a choir of men's voices only, drawn from the naval establishment. It hap-pened to be (by our calendar, though not by the Russian) the evening of November 2. And I do not think I have ever realised so clearly the proximity of the Holy Souls and their share with us in the sheltering love of Christ, Who not only walked on the waters, but Who sitteth above the water flood and remaineth a King for ever.

Nothing could exceed the kindness of the welcome we received from Fr. Lombard, his colleague, Fr. Barns, and, indeed, all at the English Chaplaincy. The calendar in Russia is you know thirteen days behind that of Western Europe. So that, although, we, in saying our offices, had arrived at October 31, the eve of All Saints, they were only just keeping the Feast of St. Luke (October 18), which I had kept at St. John the Divine, Kennington, on the Sunday before I left England ! However, Fr. Lombard was good enough to put the altar in his beautifully appointed chapel at our disposal, and we were thus enabled to celebrate the feast of All Saints and the Commemoration of All Souls, which otherwise we should have missed altogether, as by the time we get to Corea and Japan, we shall be among people who use the western calendar again! We went to some of the beautiful (but rather lengthy) services of the Russian Church in the cathedrals of St. Isaac and Our Lady of Kazan. But the one which affected me most was, I think, Vespers in the beautiful little new church of “Christ walking on the waters,” built in memory of all Russian sailors who lost their lives in the Russo-Japanese war. The church is small but very lofty, and most beautifully decorated--the apse over the altar beng filled with a gigantic and most “sympathetic” mosaic of our Lord walking on the waves, while the rest of the walls are covered with memorials of the ships and their crews, lost at Port Arthur, etc. Many of these memorials consist of the actual “icons” or pictures of the Saints, rescued from the ships. In front of these, lamps are kept burning, and these, with the candles similarly placed (with a silent prayer for some departed soul) in front of the sacred pictures by a constant stream of worshippers--men, women, and little children--provide the only light in the sacred building, apart from the brilliant illumination of the sanctuary, with its life-like mosaic. The plaintive music of the Russian Church is rendered (without accompaniment) in beautiful harmonies by a choir of men's voices only, drawn from the naval establishment. It hap-pened to be (by our calendar, though not by the Russian) the evening of November 2. And I do not think I have ever realised so clearly the proximity of the Holy Souls and their share with us in the sheltering love of Christ, Who not only walked on the waters, but Who sitteth above the water flood and remaineth a King for ever.

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	This letter is already much too long. Moreover, written in this jerky train, it will, I am afraid, greatly try the patience of the compositor! I must not, therefore, go on to tell you in detail of all the things the good English Chaplain at Petrograd, in the midst of his many avocations, found time to do for us and to show us. But I should like to ask you to find time to say an “Our Father” for him and his colleagues in their rather uphill task of ministering to the hundreds of our fellow-countrymen, scattered over Petrograd and its neighbourhood, especially as for some years past his con-gregation has been helping our work in Corea by maintaining one

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	This letter is already much too long. Moreover, written in this jerky train, it will, I am afraid, greatly try the patience of the compositor! I must not, therefore, go on to tell you in detail of all the things the good English Chaplain at Petrograd, in the midst of his many avocations, found time to do for us and to show us. But I should like to ask you to find time to say an “Our Father” for him and his colleagues in their rather uphill task of ministering to the hundreds of our fellow-countrymen, scattered over Petrograd and its neighbourhood, especially as for some years past his con-gregation has been helping our work in Corea by maintaining one of the orphans under the Sister's charge in Seoul. And, side by side with this pastoral work among our own countrymen, it must be remembered that they are charged with the responsibility of maintaining friendly and correct relations with the authorities of this great national Orthodox Church of “Holy Russia,” with its splendid traditions of faith and worship and its eighty millions of adherents. For good or for evil one cannot help feeling that that Church has a profoundly important part to play in the future of Christendom--a part only second in importance to that played by the great Roman communion, which, powerful and ubiquitous as it appears to us in the countries of Western Europe, has (it must be remembered) practically no hold on Russia and Eastern Europe at all.

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of the orphans under the Sister's charge in Seoul. And, side by side with this pastoral work among our own countrymen, it must be remembered that they are charged with the responsibility of maintaining friendly and correct relations with the authorities of this great national Orthodox Church of “Holy Russia,” with its splendid traditions of faith and worship and its eighty millions of adherents. For good or for evil one cannot help feeling that that Church has a profoundly important part to play in the future of Christendom--a part only second in importance to that played by the great Roman communion, which, powerful and ubiquitous as it appears to us in the countries of Western Europe, has (it must be remembered) practically no hold on Russia and Eastern Europe at all.

	Of the kindness of the Russians, across whom one comes in one's travels, it is difficult to speak in terms of sufficient warmth. Such kindness is doubly valuable when one is engaged in a journey, thousands of miles long, across a country whose language is a closed book to one. The thoughtful and unselfish assistance rendered by a Vladimir Vasilivitch on our way home last June has only been exceeded by that shown to us by a Peter Leonidivitch on our way back. And one can say so the more openly as neither of them is likely to see this. We are now well launched on our journey across Siberia. But of that I must tell you in my next letter, which will, I hope, be written from Seoul.

	Of the kindness of the Russians, across whom one comes in one's travels, it is difficult to speak in terms of sufficient warmth. Such kindness is doubly valuable when one is engaged in a journey, thousands of miles long, across a country whose language is a closed book to one. The thoughtful and unselfish assistance rendered by a Vladimir Vasilivitch on our way home last June has only been exceeded by that shown to us by a Peter Leonidivitch on our way back. And one can say so the more openly as neither of them is likely to see this. We are now well launched on our journey across Siberia. But of that I must tell you in my next letter, which will, I hope, be written from Seoul.

						Yours affectionately in Christ,

						Yours affectionately in Christ,

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									*MARK

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									MARK

										Bishop in Corea.

										Bishop in Corea.

	PS.--I cannot tell you how hungry we are for news. The last we have seen is October 26.

	PS.--I cannot tell you how hungry we are for news. The last we have seen is October 26.

	November 7. 1914.

	November 7. 1914.

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________________________________________

===Home Notes.===

===Home Notes.===

===The Year's Work.===

===The Year's Work.===

Morning Calm v.26 no.143(1915 Jan.) - 편집 역사

2021년 6월 29일 (화) 23:22에 최원재님의 편집

2021년 6월 29일 (화) 14:26에 최원재님의 편집

최원재: 새 문서: The Bishop's Letter. (To the Readers of MORNING CALM.) MY DEAR FRIENDS,-- My last letter was posted, I think, at Newcastle, an hour or two before starting on this rather adventurous...