By 1915, a year into the global conflict that pitted Allies against Central Powers, the German and Austro-Hungarian forces were on the advance. Casualties mounted heavily in Galicia and Poland, forcing Russia into retreat. Logistical challenges and supply shortages crippled Allied response on the Eastern Front, and World War I ground on in an offensive that required ever more munitions and equipment.
The threat of German advance into Russian lands led to fears of plunder. Both sides were desperate for metals, forcing command to consider hitherto sacrosanct sources: bells. What easier prey to feed the insatiable war machine than peaceable, defenseless bells? In the haste of retreat, they could not so easily be carried along but, once an enemy was encamped in the territory, bells were ripe for the picking. Bronze bells could then be smelted into component materials of copper and tin, crucially needed for armament.
In a letter dated 1915 from Kiev to The Times, the British journalist Stephen Graham describes the state of affairs: “I read in a paper,” he says, “that in Germany there are only enough shells to last three months, but orders have been given to take down all the church bells, and it is thought that with the bells captured in Russia, they will have enough copper to last out a year. A new arithmetic!” How many shells can be made from a church bell? Russia was loathe to find out.
Gather the bells!
To prevent the desecration of bells, Russia took laborious precautions – heaving hundreds of bells from their towers to be transferred to safety away from the front. The bells were ensconced within the St. Nicholas Monastery, or Nikolsky Monastery, not too far from Moscow. Without distinction to creed or provenance, bells came for safekeeping from Orthodox, Catholic, and Lutheran churches alike, each meticulously labeled to ease their future return.
In all, some 300 bells were gathered in the environs of the monastery. The Illustrated London News, the world's first illustrated weekly news magazine, captured the scene in pictures for the Oct. 9, 1915, publication. The images show bells of exquisite craftsmanship arranged into rows, some stacked within or on top of others. Ornamentation, including floral and religious iconography, along with medallions of priests and bishops cast in bas-relief, can be seen across the riven bells’ waists and shoulders.
This episode in campanological history highlights the role bells inadvertently played in the Great War, while foreshadowing the staggering destruction of bells in World War II. But at an even more fundamental level, it challenges us to decide whether bells are meant to be mined for instruments of destruction, or to be preserved as symbols of resiliency and community. Let’s hope humanity is not asked to make that same choice again.