The forms taken by religious mania are not always as harmless as in the case of the "God Sava." Ivan Grigorieff, founder of the Russian Mormons, began by preaching that God created the world in six days, but by degrees he came to attack established religion as well as the existing social order. According to him, themolokaneswere "pestilent," thedouchobortziwere "destroyers of the faith," and thechlystywere "mad cattle." There was only one truth, the truth of Grigorieff!
The Bible should be interpreted "according to the spirit," and as the Apostle Paul had said that Christ was to be found in those who believed in Him, then Grigorieff could be no other than Christ. He went to Turkey, returned in the rôle of "Saviour," and preached the necessity for a "spiritual life." Several women were chosen to share his life and that of the twelve "Apostles" whose duty it was to "glorify" him.
Passing from one hallucination to another, he insisted on a general cessation of labour. "Work not," he said, "for I will be gentle and merciful to you. You shall be like the birds who are nourished without need to till the earth: Work not, and all shall be yours, even to the corn stored away in the government granaries."
And so the peasants of Gaï-Orlov left their fields unfilled, and cultivated nothing save hymns and prayers. They seemed to be uplifted as by some wave of dreamy, poetic madness. Even the unlettered imitated Grigorieff in composing psalms and hymns, some specimens of which are to be found in Father Arsenii's collection. They breathe an almost infantile mysticism.
"The dweller in heaven,The King Salim,Saviour of the world,Shall descend upon earth.The clouds flee away,The light shines. . . ."
"We will climb the mountain,It is Mount Sion that we climb,And we will sing like angels."
When Grigorieff's mind began definitely to fail, and, forgetful of divine service, he passed his time in the company of his "spiritual wives," doubt seized upon the members of his church, and they composed a melancholy psalm which was chanted to Grigorieff by his "Apostles."
"Father, Saviour,Hope of all men . . .Thou gavest us the spark,The spark of faith.But to-day, little father,Thou hidest the light,Thou hidest the light. . . .
Our life is changed.We weep for thy faith,Lost and deranged,We weep for thy holy life.Upon the Mount SionThere grew a vine of God. . . ."
Grigorieff appeared to be touched, and replied with a psalm which explained, in rhymed couplets, how the Holy Ghost (that is to say, Grigorieff) was walking in a garden when brigands appeared, and tried to carry him off—an allusion to some of his followers who had caused dissension by proclaiming themselves to be "Holy Ghosts." But the sun descended upon the Garden of Paradise, the celestial garden . . . and so on.
One day, however, "Anti-Christ," in the person of a travelling magistrate, descended upon Gai-Orlov and carried off Grigorieff. He was sent to prison, where he died of poison administered by one of his "spiritual wives," who was jealous of her rivals. But his teachings did not die with him. His work was continued by the peasant Verestchagin, with the help of twelve venerable "apostles."
Imagination can scarcely conceive of some of the strange forms under which the thirst for religious truth in Southern Russia was revealed. In this great laboratory of sects, all the dreams of humanity had their more or less "inspired" representatives. Even the smallest town was in the same case as, for example, the prison of Solovetzk, which was usually inhabited by large numbers of sectarian leaders. A Mr. Sitzoff, who spent some time there, has published a description of this modern Tower of Babel.
It harboured, among others, adouchoboretz; a "god" of the Sava persuasion, with his wife, representing the "Holy Ghost"; achlyst, who rotated indefatigably round a tub of water; a captain who claimed the honour of brotherhood with Jesus Christ; a man named Pouchkin, who supposed himself to be the Saviour reincarnated; askopetzwho had brought a number of people from Moscow to be initiated into the sect of the Russian eunuchs; and thestaretzIsraïl, a famous seer, who desired to found a "Church Triumphant" among the inhabitants of the prison.
These ardent reformers of religion made a terrible uproar during the hours for exercise, each one wishing to convert the rest, and frequently the warders had to intervene, to save the terrified "Holy Ghost," for example, from the "brother of Christ" or the prophet Elijah.
Before taking leave of these and other equally bizarre products of the "great laboratory," we must mention the sect of the Napoleonites, some few members of which were still to be found recently in Southern Russia. William Hepworth Dixon, who visited the country in 1870, claims to have met some in Moscow, and according to him they were then rapidly increasing in numbers.
Thedouchobortziand themolokaneswere deeply impressed by the advent of Napoleon the First. It seemed to them that a man who had taken part in so many heroic adventures must be an envoy of the Deity. They conceived it his mission to re-establish the throne of David and to put an end to all their misfortunes, and there was great joy among the "milk-drinkers" when the "Napoleonic mystery" was expounded to them by their leaders. It was arranged to send fivemolokanedelegates to greet the "heavenly messenger," and five old men set forth, clad in garments white as their beards. But they arrived too late. Napoleon had left Russia after the disaster of 1812, and when themolokanestried to follow him they were arrested on the banks of the Vistula and thrown into prison.
The popular imagination, however, refused to abandon its idol, and the idea of Napoleon ascending into heaven continued to arouse much enthusiasm. Many of the Napoleonites lamented the wickedness of his enemies, who had driven him out of Russia, thus depriving mortals of a saviour from on high.
At their meetings they spoke of Napoleon's heroic exploits, and knelt before his bust. It was said that when he entered Russia a star had appeared in the sky, like that which heralded the birth of Christ; that he was not dead, but had escaped from St. Helena by sea and was living in Irkutsk; that one day the heavens would be torn open by a great storm, and Napoleon would appear as leader of the Slavonic people; that he would put an end to all discord and, surrounded by angels and brave soldiers, would re-establish justice and happiness on earth to the sound of trumpets.
"The hour draws near!" This cry of supremest hope was ever upon the lips of the members of the Napoleonite church.
But to become almost God was a promotion of which the "little corporal" had surely never dreamed!
The origin of this sect seems to be lost in the mists of the past. Some connect it with the teachings of Vishnu, some with mysterious practices of antiquity; but the "divine men" were certainly children of the Slavonic soil.
Those who seek for resemblances may find certain analogies between these adepts of "virginal virginity," or of "the great garden of the Tsar"—for both these names were applied to them—and theadamitesoraryanists; for eager minds seeking supreme salvation are apt to meet upon the great road that leads to deliverance.
The rather sarcastic name ofchlysty(or flagellants, by which they were also known) indicates one of the methods used by them in their desire to please the Lord.
A life-and-death struggle, lasting for some centuries, took place between Russian orthodoxy and this sect whose socialistic ideas threatened to overthrow the aristocratic dogmas of the official church.
The real founder of the sect was a man named Philipoff, who lived about the middle of the seventeenth century. According to him, Jesus Christ was only one of many Christs who have come to the succour of humanity during the course of ages. The divine spirit incarnates in men of high morality, so that Christs appear and disappear, living with and among us from time to time.
The chlysty, therefore, might always have one or more Christs among them; but all were not of equal standing. Some were great and some small!
Philipoff was convinced that he was the great Christ, having the right to choose the twelve Apostles and the Holy Mother. By degrees he came to think himself God the Father, and adopted a "divine son" in the person of a peasant named Sousloff, who succeeded him as leader of the sect after his death.
Another "Christ," named Loupkin, who bestowed the title of "Holy Virgin" upon his wife, Akoumina, gave a great impetus to the growth of the sect. His followers proclaimed him their spiritual Tsar, and received him everywhere with imposing ceremonies. He allowed his feet and hands to be kissed and obeisances to be made to the "Virgin." As a result of his propaganda many prominent members of the orthodox church were won over.
On the death of Akoumina, the rôle of Holy Virgin was taken by the Canoness Anastasia, of the convent of Ivanoff, and as time went on many of the aristocracy of Moscow and other parts came to swell the ranks of the believers in the "living Christs."
Philipoff's doctrines differed to some extent from those of Loupkin. Branches of his church were to be found in most of the Russian provinces, and as time went on these emancipated themselves and became independent, and many new "Christs" made their appearance. In 1903, nearly every Russian province was said to be seriously affected by the doctrines of the "divine men."
Apart from the secondary articles of faith which differentiated the churches, their main principles may be epitomised as follows:—
There are seven heavens, and the seventh is the Paradise of the "divine men." There dwell the Holy Trinity, the Mother of Jesus, the Archangels, and various Christs who have visited our planet. It is not a question of material bodies, but of spiritual principles. God incarnates in good men whenever He feels it to be necessary, and those who are chosen for this divine honour become Christs. The Christ of the Gospels died like all the rest. His body is interred at Jerusalem, and his resurrection only meant the deliverance of his spirit. His miracles were merely symbolical. Lazarus was a sinner; Christ cured him and made him a good man; hence the legend of the raising from the dead. The Gospels contain the teachings of the Christ of that epoch, but the Christs of our time receive other teachings appropriate to the needs of the present day.
The orthodox religion of Russia is a material religion, lacking the Spirit, whose presence is only to be found in the creed of the "divine men." In order that their truth shall triumph, these latter may belong nominally to the official religion. They may even attend its churches, but must leave their souls on the threshold. A "divine man" must guard his soul from the "infidels," the "wicked," the "voracious wolves"—thus were the orthodox believers designated. The human soul was created before the body. (A "divine mother," questioned as to her age in a court of law, declared that though her body was only seventy years old, her soul had lived through nearly as many centuries.) Metempsychosis was one of their beliefs. Souls change their habitations, and work upwards to supreme perfection. That of a Christ on earth becomes an angel after death; that of an imperfect man requires repeated incarnations. The body is the source of evil, and the soul the source of good. The body, therefore, with all its instincts and desires, must be dominated by the soul. "Divine men" must abstain from meat and alcoholic drinks, and also from marriage in the material sense. By a singular misapprehension of the idea of dominating the body, they looked upon marriage as a spiritual institution, believing that the soul of a man who had lived with his wife in any but a fraternal relationship would enter that of a pig after his death, and that children coming into the world through marriage were the joy of Satan. But love between men and women should exist outside the bonds of marriage, the sins of the flesh being then redeemed by the virtues of the spirit. Adultery was thus tolerated, and even held in high honour, by many branches of the sect, who believed that the vulgar relations between the sexes were thus spiritually purified, and that men and women who loved under these conditions were like the doves and turtle-doves favoured by heaven. They avoided having children, and abortion was not only tolerated but encouraged.
Rasputin, who borrowed largely from the doctrines of the "divine men," made great use of this strange idea of "spiritual love" in bringing about the triumph of debauchery in the highest ranks of Russian society.
The multiplicity of "Christs" caused some regrettable misunderstandings, and at times actual duels took place. The difficulty was resolved, however, by some of the churches in admirably simple fashion—for, in spite of all, many of these strange people were inspired by the Gospel teachings. The opponents exchanged blows, and he who longest continued to offer his cheek to the other was considered to have proved himself a superior Christ.
Thechlystywere divided into sections, each having its angels, its prophets, and its Christ. They met in their "Jerusalem," which was usually a cellar, and their services took place at night, the participants all wearing white robes. The ceremonies consisted chiefly of graceful movements—first a solo dance, then evolutions in pairs, after which a cross would be formed by a large number of dancers, and finally the "dance of David" took place, in imitation of the Biblical King before the Ark. The dancers then fell exhausted to the ground, their tired bodies no longer opposing the manifestation of their souls, and the prophets and prophetesses gave voice to divine inspirations.
Once a year the "high ceremonial" was held. A tub filled with water was placed in the middle of the room, and lit up by wax candles, and when the surface of the water became ruffled the ecstatic watchers believed God to be smiling upon them, and intoned in chorus their favourite hymn—-
"We dance, we dance,And seek the Christ who is among us."
In some of the churches this ceremony concluded with the celebration of universal love.
On account of its numerous ramifications, the sect presented many divergent aspects. Theteleschi, following the example of Adam and Eve in Paradise, performed their religious rites in a state of nature; and there were other branches whose various dogmas and practices it would be impossible to describe.
The career of Rasputin provides one of the most disquieting chapters in the history of sexual and religious emotions, and furnishes remarkable proof of the close relationship which exists between these two sides of human life, to all appearances diametrically opposed.
The supposed monk had undoubted hypnotic powers, and through his success in sending people to sleep in his native Siberian village (in the neighbourhood of Tomsk), he earned the reputation of being a "holy man." As they had never heard of either suggestion or hypnotism, the Siberian peasants were all the more impressed by his miracles. Before long he decided to make use of his mysterious power on a larger scale, and departed for St. Petersburg, where the news of his exploits had preceded him. The Tsarina, who suffered from insomnia, sent for him, and—thanks also to certain qualities which it is best not to specify—Rasputin's fortune was made in a day.
The village of his origin had an undesirable reputation, for its inhabitants were loose-livers, and the scandal of the surrounding countryside. But even in this environment the monk's family had made themselves conspicuous by their low and unmentionable customs. The young Gregory, known by the diminutive of Gricha, began his exploits at a very tender age, and earned the sobriquet of Rasputin, which means "debauched." He was mixed up in all kinds of dubious affairs—for instance, thefts of horses, the bearing of false witness, and many acts of brigandage. He was even sentenced more than once to be flogged—a penalty of which the local law-courts made generous use in those days. One of his boon companions, a gardener named Vamava, later became Bishop of Tobolsk through his influence.
But the time came when Gricha thought it well to abandon his small misdoings, and take up a more lucrative trade. He discarded his peasant costume, and adopted a robe similar to that worn by monks. Grave and serious, declaring that he was ranged "on the side of the Lord," he went about begging importunately, on the pretext of wishing to build a church. In this way he succeeded in amassing a very considerable sum of money, and subsequently founded a new sect whose bizarre nature surpassed that of any others that had recently seen the light.
Its chief doctrines were borrowed from thechlysty, with some modifications to suit the decadent atmosphere of the Russian Court. It taught that none could be saved without first having repented; and none could repent without first having sinned. Therefore to sin became a duty, and it may be imagined how full of attraction was this "religion of sin" for those who had neither the will nor the desire to practise virtue.
Rasputin began proceedings in his native province. He was a marvellous preacher, and easily attracted many followers, though some of the forms taken by the new religion were indescribable. The believers of both sexes were in the habit of assembling in an open field, in the midst of which a bonfire was lighted. They would form a chain and dance round the fire, praying for their sins to be forgiven, as they had repented of them. Gradually the fire would die out, and the leader then launched his command—"Now, my children, give yourselves up to sin!" The sequel may be left untold, but truly thesaturnaliaof ancient Rome grow dim before the spectacle of the ceremonies established by Rasputin.
His hypnotic practices, combined with the attractions of his "religion," only served to augment his popularity, and, burdened with past glory, he arrived in the capital to win the favour not only of ladies of high degree, but also of many prominent members of the established church.
Father John of Cronstadt, whom he first visited, was deeply impressed when Rasputin revealed to him the extent of his "intimacy with the Lord," and introduced him to the Archbishop Theophanus, almost as great a celebrity as himself.
Finding it impossible to establish the Siberian practices openly in St. Petersburg, Rasputin made great use of hypnotism. The fascination that he wielded over all in his vicinity gave authority to his words, and he devoted himself to exorcising the demons that slept in the bodies of the pretty sinners of high society. In this, scourging played a considerable part, and as all sorts of illnesses and unsatisfied desires were attributed to the "demons," the number of cases treated by the "holy man" was almost incalculable.
Even the prelates whom Rasputin ousted from their positions in some cases still continued to believe in him after his death. The Bishop Hermogen, whom he disgraced at Court, declared, the day after the assassination, his conviction that Rasputin possessed "a spark of godhead" when he first arrived in Petrograd.
The official clergy, finding it incumbent on them to defend the articles of the orthodox faith, were themselves frequently swept away by the storm of religious mania. Before the war the fortress of Solovetzk sheltered quite an army of these harmless rebels, who, troubled by the general desire for human perfection, had ended in blasphemy. Especially from the monasteries were they recruited. It seemed as though their souls were violently assaulted by devils, like those of the anchorites of olden days. Monks and nuns alike were equally discontented, equally eager to uproot evil, whether real or imaginary, by seeking out new ways of salvation.
One such was the unfortunate Israïl, originally head of the monastery of Selenginsk, later a prisoner at Solovetzk. He preached eloquently and fervently the renunciation of property, and persuaded his mother and sisters to abandon their worldly goods and devote themselves to the service of the Virgin. "To a nunnery!" he cried, with all the conviction of Hamlet driving Ophelia from this world, and they sang psalms with him and went to conceal their misery in a convent. Then, with a staff in his hand, he traversed Russia, and visited manystaretz, or holy men. They taught him "the beginning and the middle of the end which does not exist," but poor Israïl was still conscious of an emptiness in his heart. In the pursuit of truth he retired to a virgin forest on the banks of the river Schouïa, near the desert of Krivoziersk, and remained there for years engaged in prayer, until at last, touched by such piety, the Lord gave peace to his soul. Surrounded by holy books, he practised meditation, and God manifested His love by sending him visions and dreams which, coming direct from Heaven, promised salvation to himself and to all who should follow him. In one dream he saw a great temple above the cave where he was praying. Millions of people sought to enter it, but could not, and shed bitter tears of disappointment. One man alone could approach the altar. It was Israïl, the beloved of the Lord. He went straight through the great doors, and all the rest followed him.
The holy man then decided that he must act as guide to his fellows who, like himself, were possessed by the fever for eternal salvation. He knew how to distinguish between dreams sent by heaven, and those emanating from the infernal regions.
It was a great day for the new religion which was to be born in the desert of Krivoziersk when the Father Joseph came to join Israïl, the tale of whose glory by this time resounded throughout the whole neighbourhood. They remained on their knees for whole weeks at a time, praying together. Israïl painted sacred pictures, and Joseph carved spoons, for the glory of the Lord. An inexplicable emotion filled their souls; they trembled before the Eternal, fasted, and shed scalding tears; then, overcome by fatigue, fell fainting to the ground. Israïl beheld the heavens descending upon earth. They had no dread of wild beasts, and, disregarding the need for food or sleep, they thus dwelt far from the haunts of men, in the light of Eternity.
One day Israïl rose abruptly in an access of religious frenzy, climbed a hill, saluted the East three times, and returned radiant to his companion.
"The burden which lay at the door of my heart," he cried, "the burden which hindered my spirit from soaring heavenwards, has disappeared! Henceforward the Kingdom of Heaven is in me, in the depths of my soul, in the soul of the Son of my Father!"
He proceeded to share this kingdom with the brothers Warlaam, Nikanor, and others who had been "touched by the finger of God." Unbelievers were gradually won over, and a community was formed whose members lived on prayers and celestial visions, and obeyed the rules laid down for them by Israïl. The sick were cured by his prayers, and the incredulous were abashed by the holiness of his appearance.
His fame spread, and ever greater crowds were attracted, so that while the faithful rejoiced in the triumph of "the belovéd," Israïl himself deemed the time to be ripe for his promotion in the ranks of sanctity. He proclaimed himself to be Jesus Christ.
On Holy Thursday he washed the feet of his disciples, blessed the bread and wine, and distributed it to the assembled believers.
But, alas, by this time dreams of a strangely sensual nature had seized upon him, and seemed to pervade his whole being.
In one of these dreams he found himself in an empty temple, and on approaching the altar, perceived a dead woman lying there. He lifted her up, and as he touched her she showed signs of life. Suddenly, slipping from his grasp, she leapt upon the altar, and, radiating heavenly beauty, threw herself into his arms. "Come, come, my spouse!" she said. "Come, that I may outpour for thee the wine of my love and the delights of my Eternal Father!"
On hearing these words from the Queen of Heaven, Israïl dissolved into tears. He was filled with boundless rapture, and in his excitement could not forbear from sharing this joyful experience with his disciples.
His Golgotha was drawing near. The new religion was openly denounced, and rigorously suppressed. The apostles were imprisoned, and the Jesus Christ of Krivoziersk was sent for to the town of Kostroma, that he might give account of himself, his visions, and his crimes. Ultimately he was condemned to a spell of confinement, and forced to perform the most humiliating duties. His asceticism, his many virtues, his fasting and prayers, the love which God had manifested for him—all were forgotten, and Israïl, who had held the Queen of Heaven in his arms, was in future obliged to clean out the stables of the monastery of Makariev, to light the fires, and prepare the brothers' baths for them.
The "beloved of the Lord" fully expected to see the earth open and engulf his impious judges in its yawning depths—but no such thing happened. His spirit grew uneasy, and, taking advantage of the Russian Government's appeal for missionaries to convert the Siberian peoples, he set forth to preach his own religion to them instead of that of Tsarism. Arrived at Irkutsk, he sought first of all to save the souls of the chief authorities, the Governor-General and the Archbishop. But his efforts beat in vain against the indifference of these high dignitaries.
"Happy are those who follow me," he assured them, "for I will reveal to them the secrets of this world, and assure them of a place in my Father's kingdom."
However, they did not heed him, and horrified at such lack of faith, Israïl presented the Governor-General with a formal document on "the Second Coming of Our Saviour Jesus Christ." Still the souls of his contemporaries remained closed to the revelation, and while he meditated upon their blindness and deplored their misfortune, he was suddenly seized by their equally faithless representatives and transported to the farthest limits of the country.
There he found many of his old disciples, and proceeded to form the sect of the "inspired seers." He taught them with all earnestness that they would shortly see the Lord, Saint Simeon, and the Queen of Heaven, and soon after this, when in a state of ecstatic exaltation, they did, as by a miracle, behold God surrounded by His saints, and even the Infant Jesus.
But a new era of persecution was at hand for Israïl. Heaven was merciful to him, but the powers of the earth were harsh. However, the more he was persecuted, the more his followers' ardent belief in his "divinity" increased, and their enthusiasm reached a climax when the police had the audacity to lay hands on "the son of the Lord." But Israïl was quite unmoved by the fate of his earthly body, or by the prospect of earthly punishment. His soul dwelt with God the Father, and it was with the profoundest disdain that he followed the representatives of evil.
During the trial his disciples loudly expressed their belief in him, and what seemed to strengthen their faith was the fact that Israïl, like the Divine Master, had been betrayed by a "Judas." They believed also that his death would be followed by miracles.
Israïl himself desired to be crucified, but Heaven withheld this supreme grace, and also denied his followers the joy of witnessing miracles at his graveside. The Holy Synod contented itself with sentencing him to lifelong imprisonment at Solovetzk.
We may add that the founder of the "inspired seers" left, at his death, several volumes of verse. Unhappy poet! In the west he might have been covered with honour and glory; in the far north his lot was merely one of extreme unhappiness.
Sister Helen Petrov, of the convent of Pskov, declared in a moment of "divine illumination" that the Church had no hierarchy, that priests were harmful, that God had no need of intermediaries, that men should not communicate, and should, indeed, absolutely refrain from entering churches.
It was the vision of an inspired soul, or of a diseased mind—for the two extremes may meet. A pure religion, based upon the direct communion of man's spirit with God, free from false and artificial piety, having no churches or ceremonies, but exhaling the sentiment of brotherly love—what a "vision splendid" is this, so often sought but never yet attained!
In the age preceding the birth of Christ many of the finer spirits were already rebelling, like Sister Helen, against the use of agents between the human soul and God. Simeon the Just, Hillel, Jesus, son of Sirach, and many others, like Isaiah of old, besought men to cease importuning God with offerings of incense and the blood of rams. "What is needed," they said, "is to have a pure heart and to love virtue." No one, however, succeeded in formulating this teaching in so sublime a fashion as Christ Himself. For what is pure Christianity, as revealed by Him, if not the divine aspiration towards Heaven of all men as brothers, without fetters of creed and dogma, and without intermediaries?
In the name of the Divine Messenger, Sister Helen protested against the errors of men. She reproached them with their sins and their mistakes. But though the same teachings eighteen centuries before had brought about a moral renaissance, repeated by Helen they only caused untold miseries to descend upon her head. Driven from the Church and threatened with a prison-cell, her heart grew bitter within her, and her once pure spirit was clouded over.
A vision came to her, in which she learnt that the end of the world was drawing near, Anti-Christ having already made his appearance.
"We must prepare for the Last Judgment," she declared. "All family life must be renounced, wives must leave their husbands, sisters their brothers, and children their parents. The Day of God is at hand!"
After being expelled from the convent, the beautiful Helen—for she was beautiful when she first gave herself to God—carried her sacred message to the simple-minded peasants. By them she was understood and venerated, and their admiration filled her with ecstasy.
Two priests and several other nuns were attracted by the reports of her sanctity, and came to join her. She still repeated that Anti-Christ was already upon earth, and that the end was near. One day she saw him face to face and tried to kill him, for the glory of Heaven, but he escaped. However, she remembered his appearance, and was able to describe him to her followers.
"He is no other," she said, "than Father John of Cronstadt who, although a great worker of miracles, is in fact an evil genius in the service of Satan."
And all her hearers rejoiced, and paid homage to Helen's clairvoyant powers. Their enthusiastic adulation, together with the conviction of the love Christ bore her, threw the good sister into a frenzy of intense excitement, until she, who formerly had only desired to ameliorate the lot of mankind, suddenly perceived in herself an incarnation of the divine. But she sought, nevertheless, to resist the idea, and said to her followers, "I am only a poor daughter of the Lord, and He has chosen me to spread the truth about His sufferings, and to proclaim the great punishment of mankind—the end of the world."
She spoke with such emotion that her hearers, visualising the agony to come, shed tears abundantly, and prayed and fasted. But now the prophetess had another vision, for on the night before Good Friday Christ Himself appeared to her.
"Weep not,Helenouchka(little Helen)," He said. "The end of the world approaches for the wicked, and for those who knew Me not—the pagans, Jews, and priests. But you, my faithful Bride, shall be saved, and all who follow you. On the day when the world is darkened and all things crumble into ruins, the true kingdom of God shall dawn for the beloved children of heaven."
Another time Helen was overcome with joy because her heavenly Spouse visited her by night.
"Dost thou not see," said the divine Lover, "with what brilliance the sun is shining, how the flowers are opening, and every face is illumined with joy? These are the 'last rays' bidding farewell to life. But thou, Helen, shalt peacefully enjoy the raptures of love. On the appointed day thy celestial Spouse, accompanied by His angels, shall come to rescue thee, and thou shalt dwell with Him three hundred years."
One of the priests who had adopted Helen's religion composed numerous hymns in her honour, and these were chanted in chorus by the believers. The opening line of one which was sung to greet her when she awoke each morning, ran as follows: "Rejoice, Saint Helen, fair Bride of Christ, rejoice!"
Poor Saint Helen! She was not allowed to enjoy her heavenly idyll for long. Just when the new religion promised consolation to so many, the believers and their prophetess were delivered up to the rigours of the justice of this world, which called down upon their heads in turn the catastrophe of the "day of judgment."
The thirst for perfection, the ardent desire to draw near to God, sometimes takes the form of an unhappy perversion of reason and common sense. The popular soul knows no hesitation when laying its offerings upon the Altar of the Good. It dares not only to flout the principles of patriotism, of family love, and of respect for the power and the dogmas of the established church, but, taking a step further, will even trample underfoot man's deepest organic needs, and actually seek to destroy the instinct of self-preservation. What even the strictest reformers, the most hardened misanthropists, would hardly dare to suggest, is accomplished as a matter of course by simple peasants in their devotion to whatever method of salvation they believe to be in accordance with God's will. Thus came into existence the self-mutilators, orskoptzi, victims, no doubt, of some mental aberration, some misdirected sense of duty, but yet how impressive in their earnestness!
The sect having been in existence for more than a century ought perhaps to be excluded from our present survey; but it has constantly developed, and even seemed to renew its youth, so merits consideration even if only in the latter phases of its evolution.
Theskoptziwere allowed, at the beginning of the twentieth century, to form separate communities, and the life of these communities under quite exceptional social conditions, without love, children, marriage or family ties, offers a melancholy field for observation. Indeed, these colonies of mutilated beings, hidden in the depths of Siberia, give one a feeling as of some monstrous and unfamiliar growth, and present one of the most puzzling aspects of the religious perversions of the present age.
After being denounced and sentenced, and after performing the forced labour allotted to them—a punishment specially reserved for the members of sects considered dangerous to orthodoxy—theskoptzi, men and women alike, were permitted to establish their separate colonies, like those of Olekminsk and Spasskoïe.
The forced labour might cripple their limbs, but it did not weaken their faith, which blossomed anew under the open skies of Siberia, and seemed only to be intensified by their long sufferings in prison.
The martyrs who took refuge in these Siberian paradises were very numerous. It has been calculated that at the end of the nineteenth century they numbered more than sixty-five thousand, and this is probably less than the true figure, for, considering the terrible ordinances of their religion, it is not likely that they would trouble much about registering themselves for official statistics. We may safely say that in 1889 there were about twelve hundred and fifty in the neighbourhood of Yakutsk who had already accomplished their term of forced labour. They formed ten villages, and it would be difficult to specify their various nationalities, though it is known that in Spasskoïe, in 1885, there were, among seven hundred and ten members of the sect, six hundred and ninety-three Russians, one Pole, one Swede, and fifteen Finns.
To outward view their colonies were rather peculiar. Each village was built with one long, wide street, and the houses were remarkable for the solidity of their construction, for the flourishing gardens that surrounded them, and for their unusual height in this desolate land where, as a rule, nothing but low huts and hovels were to be seen. A house was shared, generally, by three or four believers, and—perhaps owing to their shattered nervous systems—they appeared to live in a state of constant uneasiness, and always kept revolvers at hand. The "brothers" occupied one side of the building, and the "sisters" the other; and while the former practised their trades, or were engaged in commerce, the women looked after the house, and led completely isolated lives. On the arrival of a stranger they would hide, and if he offered to shake hands with one of them, she would blush, saying, "Excuse me, but that is forbidden to us," and escape into the house.
The existence of the "sisters" was indeed a tragic one. Deprived of the sweetness of love or family life, without children, and at the mercy of hardened egoists, such as theskoptziusually became, their sequestered lives seemed to be cut off from all normal human happiness.
According to the author of an interesting article on theskoptziof Olekminsk, which appeared in 1895 in the organ of the then-existing Russian Ethnographical Society, these women were sometimes of an astonishing beauty, and when opportunity offered, as it sometimes did (their initiation not always being quite complete), they would marry orthodox settlers, and leave their so-called "brothers." Cases are on record of women acting in this way, and subsequently becoming mothers, but any such event caused tremendous agitation among the "brothers" and "sisters," similar to that provoked in ancient Rome by the spectacle of a vestal virgin failing in her duty of chastity.
Platonic unions between the self-mutilators and the Siberian peasant-women were fairly frequent, so deeply-rooted in the heart of man does the desire for a common life appear to be.
Theskoptziloved money for money's sake, and were considered the enemies of the working-classes. Although drawn for the most part from the Russian provinces, where ideas of communal property prevailed, they developed into rigid individualists, and would exploit even their own "brothers." Indeed they preyed upon one another to such an extent that in the village of Spasskoïe there were, among a hundred and fifty-twoskoptzi, thirty-five without land, their portions having been seized from them by the "capitalists" of the village.
Their ranks were swelled chiefly by illiterate peasants. As to their religion, it consisted almost exclusively in the practice of a ceremony similar to that of the Valerians, the celebrated early Christian sect who had recourse to self-mutilation in order to protect themselves from the temptations of the flesh.[1]
The lot of theskoptziwas not a happy one, but they were upheld and consoled by their belief in the imperial origin of their faith. According to them, Selivanoff, the prophet and founder of the sect, was no other than the Tsar Peter the Third himself (1728-1762). They did not believe in his assassination by the Empress Catherine, but declared that she, discovering to what initiation he had submitted, was seized by so violent a passion of rage that she caused him to be incarcerated in the fortress of Petropavlovsk. From there they believed that he had escaped, with the help of his gaoler, Selivanoff, and had assumed the latter's name. What strengthened them in this belief was the marked favour shown by the Tsar Alexander I for Selivanoff. Alexander being naturally inclined to mysticism, was impressed by this strange character, and requested him to foretell the issue of the war with Napoleon. He was equally well disposed to the sect of Madame Tartarinoff, which closely resembled that of the self-mutilators, and, influenced by his attitude, all the Russian high officials felt themselves bound to pay court to the new religions. One of the Imperial councillors, Piletzky, who was supposed to be writing a book refuting the doctrines of theskoptzi, defended them, on the contrary, with such warmth that his volume—obviously inspired by the opinions of the Court—was prohibited by the Bishop Filarete as Anti-Christian.
But though they could talk volubly of the illustrious origin of their leader Selivanoff, "the second Christ," and of their "divine mother," Akoulina Ivanovna, their doctrines were in fact obscure and nebulous, and they avoided—with good reason—all religious argument. They insisted, however, upon the sacredness of their initiation ceremony—which invariably ended in deportation for life, or the delights of the prison-cell.
From the physiological point of view, theskoptziresembled the Egyptian eunuchs, described by M. Ernest Godard. Those who had undergone the initiation at the age of puberty attained extraordinary maxillary and dental proportions. Giants were common among them, and there was frequently produced the same phenomenon that Darwin discovered in the animal world—enlargement of the pelvic regions.
This doctrine, which ought to have repelled the populace, attracted them irresistibly. The young, the brave, and the wealthy, in the full flower of their strength, abandoned at its call the religion of life and yoked themselves to that of death. It seemed to fascinate them. After conversion they despised all human passions and emotions, and when persecuted and hunted down they took their revenge by expressing profoundest pity for those who were powerless to accomplish the act of sacrifice which had brought them "near to divinity."
They often let this pity sway them to the extent of running into danger by preaching their "holy word" to "infidels." Like the ascetics of Ancient Judea, who left their retreats to make sudden appearances in the midst of the orgies of their contemporaries, these devotees of enforced virginity would appear among those who were disillusioned with life, and instruct them in the delights of the supreme deliverance. In their ardent desire to rescue all slaves of the flesh, some rich merchants of Moscow, who had adopted the doctrine, placed the greater part of their fortunes at the disposal of their co-religionists, and in this way the sect was enabled to extend its influence throughout Russia, and even into neighbouring countries.
At one time in Bucharest and other towns certain carriages drawn by superb horses attracted much admiration. These were some of the strange presents—the price of a still stranger baptism—with which the "Church of the Second Christ" rewarded its members!
[1] Valerius, passionate and devout at the same time, was the first to sacrifice himself thus on the altar of purity, following the example of Origen, who had used this heroic method to safeguard the virtue of the women of hisentourage. But while Origen was rewarded for his action by the Patriarch of Jerusalem, Valerius was expelled from the church, and retired to Arabia, where his sect flourished in the third century (A.D.).
In addition to the sects having their prophets and leaders and a certain amount of organisation, almost every year in Russia saw—and probably still sees—the birth of many separate heresies of short duration. For instance, in one part a whole village would suddenly be seized by religious ardour, its inhabitants deserting the fields and passing their time in prayer, or in listening to the Gospel teachings as expounded to them by some "inspired" peasant. Or elsewhere, the women would all leave their husbands and depart into the forests, where in the costume of Mother Eve they would give themselves up to meditating upon the sins of humanity and the goodness of God.
On the outskirts of a village near Samara, in East Russia, a forester was one day attracted to a cabin by the resounding cries and groans that issued from it. On entering, a strange sight met his eyes—three women, completely naked, praying and weeping. They were like skeletons, and one of them died soon after being forcibly brought back to the village. In spite of all entreaties she refused to let the orthodox priest come near her, and begged that no cross should be placed over her grave.
The police searched the forest, and found several other women in a similar condition. Inquiry revealed that they had left their homes in the neighbourhood of Viatka in order to expiate the sins of their fellows. For nourishment they depended on herbs and strawberries, and prayer was their sole occupation. Their unquenchable desire was to be allowed to die "for the greater glory of Jesus Christ." They belonged to no sect, and did not believe in sacred symbols or in priests. In order to get into direct communication with God, they discarded their garments and lived in a state of nature, eating nothing but what they could find by the wayside. Thirty or forty of these women were gathered in and sent back to their homes.
The peasants of the Baltic Provinces, although better educated than those of Southern Russia, became victims of religious mania just as frequently. It was in the Pernov district that the cult of the god Tonn was brought to light. The chief function of this god was to preserve cattle and other livestock from disease, and to gain his favour the peasants brought him offerings twice a year. His statue was placed in a stable, and there his worshippers were wont to gather, praying on bended knee for the health of their cows and horses. In time, however, the statue was seized by the police, to the great grief of the peasants of the district.
In another part there dwelt a magician who was said to cure all bodily ills by the aid of the sixth and seventh books of Moses.
The tribunal of Kaschin, near Tver, once had occasion to judge a peasant named Tvorojnikoff who, as a result of his private meditations, had succeeded in evolving a new religion for himself and his friends. After working for six months in St. Petersburg as a mechanic, and studying the "vanity of human affairs," he came to the conclusion that orthodox religious observances were an invention of the priests, and that it was only necessary to believe in order to be saved.
An action was brought against him, whereupon his mother and sister, who were called as witnesses, refused to take the oath, that being "only an invention of men." Tvorojnikoff described his doubts, his sufferings, and the battle which had long raged in his soul, and declared that at last, on reaching the conclusion that "faith is the only cure," he had found happiness and peace.
"What have I done to be punished?" he demanded. "What do you want with me? Instead of sending me to prison, explain how I have sinned. Read the Gospel with me!"
But his entreaties were ignored. The "religious expert," who was present in the person of a delegate of the ecclesiastical authorities, thought it beneath his dignity to discuss eternal truths with a peasant, and the poor dreamer received a sentence of imprisonment.
The Russian legal records are full of the misdeeds of many such, whose sole crimes consisted in dreaming with all sincerity, and in spite of cruel deceptions and disappointments, of the day when man should at last attain perfection upon earth.
From time to time this thirst for the ideal, this dissatisfaction with the actual, gave rise to a series of collective suicides. We may recall the celebrated propaganda of the monk Falaley, who preached that death was man's only means of salvation. He gathered his unhappy hearers in a forest, and there expounded to them the emptiness of life and the best method of escaping from it. His words bore fruit, and the simple peasants who heard them decided to have done with "this life of sin."
One night eighty-four persons congregated in an underground cavern near the river Perevozinka, and began to fast and to pray. The peasants gathered round their improvised camp, built of straw and wood, ready to die when the signal was given. But one woman, taking fright at the idea of so horrible a death, fled and warned the authorities. When the police arrived, one of the believers cried out that Anti-Christ was approaching, and the poor creatures then set fire to the camp and died—as they thought—for Christ.
A few fanatics who were saved received sentences of imprisonment and deportation, but one of them—Souchkoff—succeeded in escaping, and continued to spread "the truth of God." Whether it was his own eloquence or the misery and despair of the people that helped his doctrine, it bore at any rate such fruits that soon afterwards sixty families in one locality made up their minds to dieen masse, believing that simple murder—the murder of the faithful by the faithful—would hasten the day of supreme deliverance. A peasant named Petroff entered the house of his neighbour, and killed the latter's wife and children, afterwards carrying his blood-stained hatchet in triumph through the village. In the barn of another a dozen peasants gathered with their wives, and the men and women laid their heads upon the block in turn, while Petroff, in the rôle of the angel of death, continued his work of deliverance. He then made his way to a hut near by where a mother and three children awaited his services, and finally, overcome with fatigue, he laid his own head on the block, and was despatched to eternal glory by Souchkoff.
But the kind of death recommended by Chadkin about the year 1860 was even more terrible. In this case it was not a question of a wave of madness that came and passed, but of the prolonged torture of death by voluntary starvation.
Chadkin's teaching was that as Anti-Christ had already come, there was nothing left to do but escape into the forests and die of hunger. When he and his adherents had reached a sufficiently isolated spot, he ordered the women to prepare death-garments, and when all were suitably arrayed, he informed them that in order to receive the heavenly grace of death, they must remain there for twelve days and nights without food or water.
Frightful were the sufferings endured by these martyrs. The cries of the children, as they writhed in agony, were heartrending, but Chadkin and his followers never wavered. At last, however, one of the sufferers, unable longer to face such tortures, managed to escape, and Chadkin, fearing the arrival of the police, decided that all the rest must die at once. They began by killing the children; next the women and the men; and by the time the police appeared on the scene there remained alive only Chadkin and two others, who had forgotten in their frenzy to put an end to themselves.
It seems enough, in Russia, when a single individual is obsessed by some more or less ridiculous idea, for his whole environment to become infected by it also. The ease with which suggestions make their way into the popular mind is amazing, and this reveals its strong bias towards the inner life, the life of dreams. The actual content of the dreams is of small importance, provided that they facilitate the soul's flight to a better world, and supply some link in a chain which shall attach it more firmly to the things of eternity. Consequently, those who have any supernatural experience to relate are almost sure to find followers.
An illiterate woman named Klipikoff one day proclaimed the good news of the divinity of Father Ivan of Cronstadt. The incredulous smiles of her fellow-citizens were gradually transformed into enthusiastic expressions of belief, and Madame Klipikoff proceeded to found a school. About twenty women began to proclaim openly throughout Cronstadt that Father Ivan, the miracle-worker, was divine, and he had difficulty in repudiating the honours that the infatuated women tried to thrust upon him. According to the priestesses of this "unrecognised" cult, Father Ivan was the Saviour Himself, though he hid the fact on account of the "Anti-Christians"—that is to say, the priests and the church authorities. Those who were converted to the new doctrine placed his portrait beside that of the Divine Mother, and prayed before it. They even fell on their knees before his garments, or any articles belonging to him, and though the old man expressed horror at such idolatry, he nevertheless permitted it. One of the local papers described a ceremony that took place in one of the houses where the pilgrims, who journeyed to Cronstadt from all parts of Russia, were lodged. Father Ivan deigned to give his benediction to the three glasses of tea that the hostess proffered him, and after his departure she divided their contents among the assembled company, in return for various offerings.
There were, however, cases in which, instead of kneeling before the garments of miracle-workers or committing suicide, the visionaries strove to reach heaven by offering up the lives of their fellow-men in sacrifice.
In the law-courts of Kazan a terrible instance of one of these religious murders was brought to light. It was revealed that the inhabitants of a neighbouring village had suspended by the feet a beggar named Matiounin, and then, opening one of his veins, had drunk his blood.
There are throughout Russia many records of proceedings brought against such murderers—for instance, the tragic case of Anna Kloukin, who threw her only daughter into an oven, and offered her charred body to God; and that of a woman named Kourtin, who killed her seven-year-old son that his mortal sins might be forgiven.
The vague remembrance of Abraham, who offered up his only son, and the conviction that Anti-Christ, "born of a depraved woman, a Jewess," travels the earth in search of Christian souls—these are the most obvious motives for murders such as we have described. Their real cause sprang, however, from the misery of the people and their weariness of life.
By a kind of reaction these murders—whose perpetrators often could not be found—frequently gave rise to even stranger crimes and disturbances. Suspicion was apt to fall upon any Jews dwelling in the district, and there resulted trials, such as that of Beilis, or Jewishpogromswhich filled the civilised world with horror.
The pilgrims and "workers of miracles" who wander through Russia can always find, not only free lodging, but also opportunity for making their fortunes. Their gains mount, often, to incredible figures, and the faith and piety that they diffuse have both good and bad aspects. There are places, for instance, like Cronstadt, which, at one time inhabited mainly by drunkards, became before the war a "holy town." Apart from Father Ivan and his peculiar reputation, there were hundreds of other pilgrims who, though quite unknown on their arrival, soon gained there a lucrative notoriety.
One of these was thestaretz(ancient) Anthony, who in three or four years amassed a considerable fortune. His popularity attracted representatives of all classes of society. People wrote for appointments in advance, and went in order of precedence as to a fashionable doctor. It was quite common to have to wait ten or fifteen days for the desired interview. In Petrograd, where the population belonged half to the twentieth and half to the sixteenth century, Anthony was quite the mode. Thesalonsliterally seized upon him, and, flattered and fondled, he displayed his rags in the carriages of fashionable women of the world, while the mob, touched by the spectacle of his acknowledged holiness, gave him enthusiastic ovations. His journey from Petrograd to Cronstadt was a triumphal progress. The crowds pressed around him and he walked among them barefooted, in spite of this being expressly forbidden by law. Finally, however, the police were roused, and one fine day he set forth at the government's expense for the "far-off lands"—of Siberia.
Cronstadt, town of drunkards and of miracle-workerspar excellence, boasted about two hundredstaretz. The most famous among them were the four brothers Triasogolovy—Hilarion, James, Ivan and Wasia.
The crowds, who had formerly visited Cronstadt only on Father Ivan's account, became ever greater, and were divided up among the various saints of the town, one of the most popular being Brother James, who undertook to exorcise demons.
His methods were simple. A woman once came to him, begging to be delivered from the numerous evil spirits that had taken possession of her soul. In view of their numbers, Brother James felt it necessary to have recourse to heroic measures. He rained blows upon the penitent, who emitted piercing shrieks, and as this took place in the hotel where the "holy man" was living, the servants intervened to put an end to the sufferings of the "possessed" one. But Brother James, carried away by enthusiasm in a good cause, continued to scourge the demons until the woman, unable to bear more, broke the window-pane and leapt into the street. Crowds gathered, and the Brother, turning to them, prophesied that shortly he would be—arrested! Thereupon the police made their appearance and removed him to the lock-up, and the crowds dispersed, filled with admiration for Brother James, who not only coped with demons, but actually foretold the evil that they would bring upon him.
In addition to the genuine visionaries, there were many swindlers who took advantage of the popular credulity. Such was the famous pilgrim Nicodemus, who travelled throughout Russia performing miracles. In the end the police discovered that he was really a celebrated criminal who had escaped from prison.
But Nicodemus was, as a matter of fact, better than his reputation, for, in granting absolution for large numbers of sins, his charges were relatively small. He is said to have assured whole villages of eternal forgiveness for sums of from twenty to a hundred roubles.
Frequently some out-of-work cobbler would leave his native village and set forth on a pilgrimage in the character of astaretz; or some "medical officer," unable to make a living out of his drugs, would establish himself as a miracle-worker and promptly grow rich. When onestaretzdisappeared, there were always ten new ones to take his place, and the flood mounted to such an extent that the authorities were often powerless to cope with it. Persecution seemed only to increase the popular hysteria, and caused the seekers after truth to act as though intoxicated, seeing themselves surrounded by a halo of martyrdom.
The flood of religious mania reached even beyond the borders of European Russia, and its effects were seen as much among the followers of other religions as among the Christians.
Mahometanism, although noted for its unshakable fidelity to the dogmas of Mahomet, did not by any means escape the mystic influences by which it was surrounded. To take one example from among many: in the month of April, 1895, a case of religious mania which had broken out among the Mahometan inhabitants of the south of Russia was brought before the law-courts at Kazan. It concerned a set of Tartars called theVaïsoftzi, which had been founded in 1880 by a man namedVaïsoff, whose existence was revealed in unexpected fashion. A lawyer having called at his house, at the request of one of his creditors, Vaïsoff showed him the door, explaining that he did not consider himself under any obligation "to repay what had been given to him." The other returned later, however, accompanied by several policemen, and Vaïsoff's adherents then attacked the latter, while chanting religious hymns and proclaiming the greatness of their leader. They next barricaded themselves into the house, which was besieged by the police for some days, during which prayers issued from it towards heaven and stones towards the representatives of the law. Finally the rebels were overpowered, and sentenced to several years' imprisonment.
The police had a similar experience on another occasion when they tried to arrest one of theVaïsoftzi, but in the end they got the upper hand, and several Tartars were delivered up to justice.
After being judged and sentenced, they presented themselves before the Court of Appeal, but when the usual questions were put to them, all began to pray and sing loudly. Silence was at last reestablished, and the judge again asked one of them for his name and profession. "Who are you, that you should question me?" was the reply, and once again all chanted together in chorus. The Tartars who had crowded into the court seemed deeply impressed by this attitude, and the judge thought it well to dismiss the prisoners while the case was considered. They were brought back to hear the sentence, and again began to sing their prayers and hymns, while one of them cried out: "I am the chief of the heavenly regiment; I am the representative of Vaïsoff upon earth; and you, who are you that you should take upon yourself the right to judge me?" The others then calmly continued their interrupted song to the Lord, but they were all condemned to a period of forced labour, and their spokesman, in addition, to twenty-five strokes with the birch.