THE SELF-MUTILATORS
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, or _skoptzi_, 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.
The _skoptzi_ were 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--the _skoptzi_, men
and women alike, were permitted to establish their separate colonies,
like those of Olekminsk and Spasskoie.
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
Spasskoie, 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 the _skoptzi_ usually became, their
sequestered lives seemed to be cut off from all normal human happiness.
According to the author of an interesting article on the _skoptzi_ of
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.
The _skoptzi_ loved 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 Spasskoie there were, among a hundred and fifty-two
_skoptzi_, 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 the _skoptzi_ was 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 the _skoptzi_, 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, the _skoptzi_ resembled 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 his _entourage_. 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.).
B. THE NON-SECTARIAN VISIONARIES
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.
CHAPTER I
THE BROTHERS OF DEATH
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 die _en 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 role 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.
CHAPTER II
THE DIVINITY OF FATHER IVAN
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 Jewish
_pogroms_ which filled the civilised world with horror.
CHAPTER III
AMONG THE MIRACLE-WORKERS
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 the _staretz_ (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. The _salons_ literally 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-workers _par excellence_,
boasted about two hundred _staretz_. 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 a _staretz_; 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 one
_staretz_ disappeared, 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.
C. THE RISING FLOOD
CHAPTER I
THE MAHOMETAN VISIONARIES
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 the
_Vaisoftzi_, which had been founded in 1880 by a man named _Vaisoff_,
whose existence was revealed in unexpected fashion. A lawyer having
called at his house, at the request of one of his creditors, Vaisoff
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
Vaisoff'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 the _Vaisoftzi_, 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 Vaisoff 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.
CHAPTER II
THE RELIGION OF THE POLAR MARSEILLAIS
Let us now travel to the extreme north, to the land where dwell the
Yakuts, the Marseillais of the Polar regions. Living a life of gay and
careless vagabondage in this snowy world, they took part in one of the
most characteristic episodes of the general religious upheaval.
At Guigiguinsk, a straggling village on the borders of the Arctic
Ocean, lived a Yakut tribe already converted to Christianity. Their
new faith had not in any way modified the happy-go-lucky nature of the
inhabitants of this frozen land; neither had it in any way clarified
their religious conceptions. "There are many gods," said they, "but
Nicholas is the chief"--and no matter how miserable their life, they
danced and sang, remembering no doubt how in their ancient home in the
far-off south, their ancestors also sang, filling the whole world with
their gaiety. Theirs was a fine climate and a fine country! The sun
often shone, the grass grew high, and the snow only lasted for six
months in the year. So everyone talked and danced and sang. There
were orators who held forth for whole days; there were dancers who
danced for weeks and weeks. From father to son these two ruling
passions have been handed down even to the Yakuts of the present day.
Now, as in former times--as when Artaman of Chamalga "so sang with his
whole soul that the trees shed their leaves and men lost their
reason"--the Yakuts sing, and their songs disturb the "spirits," who
crowd around the singer and make him unhappy. But he sings on,
nevertheless; though the whole order of nature be disturbed, still he
sings.
Now, as in former times, the Yakut believes in "the soul of things,"
and seeks for it everywhere. Every tree has a soul, every plant, every
object; even his hammer, his house, his knife, and his window. But
beyond these there is _Ai-toen_, the supreme, abstract soul of all
things, the incarnation of being, which is neither good nor bad, but
just _is_--and that suffices. Far from concerning himself with the
affairs of this world, Ai-toen looks down upon them from the seventh
heaven, and--leaves them alone. The country is full of "souls" and
"spirits," which appear constantly, and often incarnate in the shadows
of men. "Beware of him who has lost his shadow," say the Yakuts, for
such a one is thought to be dogged by misfortune, which is always ready
to fall upon him unawares. Even the children are forbidden to play
with their shadows.
Those who desire to see spirits must go to the _Shamans_, of whom there
are only four great ones, but plenty of others sufficiently powerful to
heal the sick, swallow red-hot coals, walk about with knives sticking
into their bodies--and above all to rejoice the whole of nature with
their eloquence. For the Yakuts consider that there is nothing more
sacred than human speech, nothing more admirable than an eloquent
discourse. When a Yakut speaks, no one interrupts him. They believe
that in the spoken word justice and happiness are to be found, and in
their intense sociability they dread isolation, desiring always to be
within reach of the sound of human voices. By the magic of words, an
orator can enslave whole villages for days, weeks and months, the
population crowding round him, neglecting all its usual occupations,
and listening to his long discourses with unwearied rapture.
Sirko Sierowszewski, who spent twelve years in the midst of these
people, studying them closely, affirms in his classic work on the
Yakuts (published in 1896 by the Geographical Society of St.
Petersburg) that their language belongs to a branch of the Turko-Tartar
group, and contains from ten to twelve thousand words. It holds, in
the Polar countries, a position similar to that held by the French
tongue in the rest of the world, and may be described as the French of
the Arctic regions. The Yakuts are one of the most curious races of
the earth, and one of the least known, in spite of the hundreds of
books and pamphlets already published about them. Their young men
frequently appear as students at the University of Tomsk, though they
are separated from this source of civilisation by more than three
thousand miles of almost impassable country. The journey takes from
fifteen months to two years, and they frequently stop _en route_ in
order to work in the gold mines, to make money to pay for their
studies. These are the future regenerators of the Yakut country.
About thirty years ago there arrived among these care-free children of
nature a Russian functionary, a sub-prefect, who took up his residence
at Guigiguinsk, on the shores of the Arctic Sea. He was a tremendous
talker, though it is impossible to say whether this was the result of
his desire to found a new religious sect, or whether the sect was the
result of his passion for talking. At any rate, he harangued the
populace indefatigably, and they gathered from all quarters to listen
to the orator of the Tsar, and were charmed with him.
In one of his outpourings he declared that he was none other than
Nicholas, the principal god of the whole country, and his listeners,
who had never before beheld any but "little gods," were filled with
enthusiasm at the honour thus bestowed upon their particular district.
The sub-prefect ended by believing his own statements, and accepted in
all good faith the homage that was paid to him, in spite of
Christianity. A writer named Dioneo, in a book dealing with the
extreme north-east of Siberia, tells us that even the local priest
himself was finally converted, and that after a year or so the Governor
of Vladivostock, who had heard rumours, began to grow uneasy about his
subordinate, and despatched a steamer to Guigiguinsk to find out what
had become of him. Upon arrival the captain hastened to fulfil his
mission, but the people suspected that some danger threatened their
"god" and took steps to hide him, assuring the inquirers that he had
gone away on a visit and would not return for a long time. As
navigation is only possible in those parts for a few weeks in the year,
the captain was obliged to return to Vladivostock. Another year
passed, and still there was no news of the sub-prefect. The captain
returned to Guigiguinsk, and having received the same reply as before
to his inquiries, made pretence of departure. He came back, however,
the next day, and with his sailors, appeared unexpectedly among the
Yakuts.
An unforgettable spectacle met their eyes.
The little town was _en fete_, church bells ringing, songs and reports
of firearms intermingling. Great bonfires flamed along the seashore,
and a solemn procession was passing through the streets. Seated on a
high throne in a carriage, the sub-prefect, the "great god" of
Guigiguinsk, was haranguing the crowds, with partridges' wings,
ribbons, tresses of human hair and other ornaments dear to the Yakuts,
dangling round his neck. To his carriage were harnessed eight men, who
drew it slowly through the town, while around it danced and sang
_shamans_ and other miracle-workers, accompanying themselves on
tambourines. Thus did the believers in the new religion celebrate the
happy escape of their "god" from danger.
The appearance of the captain and his armed men produced a sensation.
The "great god" was seized and carried off, and forced to submit,
subsequently, to all kinds of humiliations.
CHAPTER III
THE RELIGION OF THE GREAT CANDLE
On the outskirts of Jaransk, in the Viatka district, a race called the
_Tcheremis_ has dwelt from time immemorial. While Russian scholars,
like Smirnov, were employed in unveiling all the mysteries of their
past, the authorities were endeavouring to imbue them with Russian
conceptions of religion and government. But these people were not
easily persuaded to walk in the right way, and from time to time there
arose violent differences of opinion between them and the
representatives of officialdom.
In 1890, at the time of the Scientific and Industrial Exhibition at
Kazan, an appeal was made to the Tcheremis to send some objects of
anthropological and ethnographical interest. They responded by sending
those representing their religion, for, having rejected orthodoxy, they
wished the beauties of their "new faith" to be admired. They therefore
exhibited at Kazan large spoons and candles, drums that were used to
summon the people to religious ceremonies, and various other articles
connected with their mysterious beliefs, and the Committee of the
Exhibition awarded them a medal for "a collection of invaluable objects
for the study of the pagan religion of the Tcheremis."
The natives, knowing nothing of the complicated organisation of
scientific awards, simply concluded that the medal had been given to
them because their religion was the best, and the leader of their
community wore it round his neck, and recounted everywhere how "out of
all the religions that had been examined at Kazan, only that of the
'Great Candle' had been found to be perfect." All the believers
rejoiced over the prestige thus won by their faith, and a wave of
religious ecstasy swept over the country. Three of the fathers of the
church affixed copies of the medal to their front doors, with the
inscription: "This was given by the Tsar to the best of all religions,"
and the people made merry, and gave themselves up to the bliss of
knowing that they had found the true and only way of salvation, as
acknowledged by the representatives of the Tsar himself.
Poor creatures! They were not aware of the contents of Article 185 of
the Russian criminal code, which ordained that the goods of all who
abandoned the orthodox faith should be confiscated, until they
expressed repentance and once more acknowledged the holy truths of the
official church. So it came about that in spite of the triumph of
their religion at the Exhibition of Kazan, legal proceedings began, and
in 1891 and 1892, as many as fourteen actions were brought against the
adepts of the Great Candle, and numbers of them were sentenced to
imprisonment and to the confiscation of their goods. All this in spite
of the fact that their beliefs did not in any way threaten to undermine
the foundations of society.
"There are six religions contained in the books which the Tsar has
given to his people"--they said, when brought before the tribunal--"and
there is a seventh oral religion, that of the Tcheremis. The seventh
recognises neither the sacraments nor the gospel. It glorifies God in
person, and the faith which has been handed down from father to son.
It has been given to the Tcheremis _exclusively_, because they are a
poor, unlettered people, and cannot afford to keep up priests and
churches. They call it the religion of the Great Candle, because in
their ceremonies a candle about two yards in length is used; and they
consider Friday a holiday because on it are ended the prayers which
they begin to say on Wednesday."
When questioned by the judge, the accused complained that the orthodox
clergy expected too many sacrifices from them, and charged them heavily
for marriages and burials, this being their reason for returning to
"the more merciful religion of their forefathers."
According to the _Journal of the Religious Consistory of the Province
of Viatka_, the Tcheremis were guilty of many other crimes. They did
not make the sign of the cross, and refused to allow their children to
be baptised or their dead to be buried with the rites of the orthodox
church. Truly there is no limit to the heresies of men, even as there
is none to the mercies of heaven! Further, the missionaries complained
with horror that, in addition to seven principal religions, the
Tcheremis acknowledged seventy-seven others, in accordance with the
division of humanity into seventy-seven races.
"It is God," they said, "who has thus divided humanity, even as He has
divided the trees. As there are oaks, pines and firs, so are there
different religions, all of heavenly origin. But that of the Tcheremis
is the best. . . . The written Bible, known to all men, has been
falsified by the priests, but the Tcheremis have an oral Bible, which
has been handed down intact, even as it was taught to their forbears by
God. . . . The Tsar is the god of earth, but he has nothing to do with
religion, which is not of this world."
The prayers of these dangerous heretics, who were punished like common
criminals, mirror the innocence of their souls. They implored God to
pardon all their sins, great and small; to grant good health to their
cattle and their children. They thanked Him for all His mercies,
prayed for the Tsar and all the Imperial family, for the soldiers, for
the civil authorities, and for all honest men; and finally for the dead
"who now labour in their celestial kingdom."
The tribunal, however, implacably brought the law to bear upon them,
and thinking their punishment too great for their crimes, they had
recourse to the Court of Appeal, where they begged to be judged
"according to the good laws of the Tsar, not the bad ones of the
Consistory." But the sentence was ratified, and the religion of the
Great Candle procured for its followers the martyrdom that they had so
little desired.
CHAPTER IV
THE NEW ISRAEL
Although most of the sects of which we have spoken sprang from the
orthodox church, the _molokanes_ and the _stoundists_ were indirect
fruits of the Protestant church, and even among the Jews there were
cases of religious mania to be found.
Leaving out of account the _karaitts_ of Southern Russia, formerly the
_frankists_--who ultimately became good Christians--we may remark from
time to time some who rejected the articles of the Jewish faith, and
even accepted the divinity of Christ. Such a one was Jacques Preloker,
founder of the "new Israel," a Russian-Jew philosopher who discovered
the divine sermon on the Mount eighteen hundred and seventy-eight years
after it had been delivered. This was the beginning of a revolution of
his whole religious thought, which resulted in 1879 in the founding of
a new sect at Odessa. The philosopher desired an intimate relationship
with the Christian faith, and dreamed of the supreme absorption of the
Jewish Church into that of Christ. In his new-found adoration for the
Christian Gospel, he tried by every means in his power to lessen the
distance between it and Judaism, but, though some were attracted by his
ardour, many were repelled by the boldness of his conceptions.
Towards the end of his life, the bankrupt philosopher, still dignified
and serious, although fallen from the height of his early dreams, made
his appearance on the banks of the Thames, and there endeavoured to
continue his propaganda and to explain to an unheeding world the
beauties of the Jewish-Christian religion.
CHAPTER V
CONCLUSION
It is as difficult to pick out the most characteristic traits of the
innumerable Russian sects as it is to describe the contours of clouds
that fleet across the sky. Their numbers escape all official reckoning
and the variety of their beliefs renders classification very difficult.
In these pages the sectarian organism has been presented in its most
recent and most picturesque aspects, and its chief characteristic seems
to be that it develops by a process of subdivision. Each existing sect
divides itself up into various new ones, and these again reproduce
themselves by breaking apart, like the first organisms in which life
was manifested on the earth. Every separated portion of the parent
becomes an offspring resembling the parent, and the number of divisions
increases in proportion to the number of adherents. As in the
protozoa, multiplication commences with a mechanical rupture, and with
the passage of time and the influence of outside elements, the sects
thus born undergo visible modifications. By turns sublime or
outrageous, simple or depraved, they either aspire heavenwards or
debase the human spirit to the level of its lowest passions.
Making common use of the truths of the Gospel revelations, they include
every phase of modern social life in their desire for perfection.
Liberty, equality, wealth, property, marriage, taxes, the relation
between the State and the individual, international peace, and the
abolition of arms--all these things, even down to the very food we eat,
become the prey of their reformatory ardour.
The sects that abound in Anglo-Saxon countries do little but copy one
another in evolving new and amazing variations of Bible interpretation.
Confined within these limits, they rarely even touch upon the serious
problems that lie outside the text of the Gospels, and we might say of
them as Swift said of the religious sects of his day--"They are only
the same garments more or less embroidered."
But the Russian sects vividly reveal to us the secret dreams and
aspirations of millions of simple and honest men, who have not yet been
infected by the doctrinal diseases of false science or confused
philosophy; and further, they permit us to study the manifestation in
human life of some new and disquieting conceptions. In their depths we
may see reflected the melancholy grandeur and goodness of the national
soul, its sublime piety, and its thirst for ideal perfection, which
sometimes uplifts the humble in spirit to the dignity and
self-abnegnation of a Francis of Assisi.
The mysticism which is so deep-rooted in the Russian national
consciousness breaks out in many different forms. Not only poets and
writers, painters and musicians, philosophers and moralists, but
statesmen, socialists and anarchists are all impregnated with it--and
even financiers and economic reformers.
Tolstoi, when he became a sociologist and moralist, was an eloquent
example of the mental influence of environment; for his teachings which
so delighted--or scandalised, as the case might be--the world, were
merely the expression of the dreams of his fellow-countrymen. So was
it also with the lofty thoughts of the philosopher Soloviev, the
_macabre_ tales of Dostoievsky, the realistic narratives of Gogol, or
the popular epics of Gorky and Ouspensky.
The doctrines of Marx took some strange shapes in the Russian _milieu_.
Eminently materialistic, they were there reclothed in an abstract and
dogmatic idealism--in fact, Marxism in Russia was transformed into a
religion. The highly contestable laws of material economics, which
usually reduce the chief preoccupations of life to a miserable question
of wages or an abominable class-war, there gained the status of a
veritable Messianic campaign, and the triumphant revolution, imbued
with these dogmas, strove to bring the German paradox to an end, even
against the sacred interests of patriotism. The falling away of the
working-classes and of the soldiers, which so disconcerted the world,
was really nothing but the outer effect of their inner aspirations.
Having filled out the hollow Marxian phraseology with the mystic
idealism of their own dreams, having glimpsed the sublime brotherhood
which would arise out of the destruction of the inequality of wages and
incomes, they quite logically scorned to take further part in the
struggle of the nations for independence. Of what import to them was
the question of Teutonic domination, or the political future of other
races?
It is much the same with the peasant class. The partition of the land
is their most sacred dogma, and they can scarcely imagine salvation
without it. This materialistic demand, embellished by the dream of
social equality, has become a religion. Mysticism throws round it an
aureole of divine justice, and the difficulty--or the impossibility--of
such a gigantic spoliation of individuals for the sake of a vague
ideal, has no power to deter them.
The land--so they argue--belongs to the Lord, and the unequal way in
which it is divided up cannot be according to His desire. The kingdom
of heaven cannot descend upon earth until the latter is divided among
her children, the labourers.
The far-off hope of victory faded before these more immediate dreams,
and the continuation of a war which seemed to involve their
postponement became hateful to the dreamers; while the emissaries of
Germany took advantage of this state of affairs to create an almost
impassable gap between the few who were clear-sighted and the mass who
were blinded by visions.
The extreme rebelliousness which characterises the Russian religious
visionaries is manifested to an almost equal extent by all political
parties and their leaders. Consequently the spirit of unity which
prevailed (during the war) in other countries met with insuperable
difficulties in Russia.
The whole nation seems to have been driven, by the long suppression of
free thought and belief, added to the miseries brought about by the old
regime, to take refuge in unrealities, and this has resulted in a kind
of deformity of the national soul. It was a strange irony that even
the aristocracy should end by falling victim to its own environment.
Exploited by miracle-mongers, thrown off its balance by paroxysms of
so-called mysticism, it disappeared from view in a welter of practices
and beliefs that were perverse and childish even at their best.
TRANSLATOR'S NOTE
It seems appropriate to call attention here to an article from the pen
of Prince Eugene Troubetzkoy, Professor of Law at the University of
Moscow, which appeared in the _Hibbert Journal_ for January, 1920.
Writing apparently in the autumn of 1919, the Prince declared that the
civil war then in progress in Russia was "accompanied by a spiritual
conflict no less determined and portentous," and pointed out that the
doctrine of Bolshevism was a deliberate distortion of Marxism,
_immediate revolution_ having been substituted by the Bolshevists for
the _evolution_ preached by Marx. He went on to say that one of the
most striking characteristics of Bolshevism was its pronounced hatred
of religion, and especially of Christianity, the ideal of a life beyond
death being "diametrically opposed to the ideal of Bolshevism, which
tempts the masses by promising _the immediate realisation of the
earthly paradise_." And, Bolshevism's practical method for realising
its Utopia being "the armed conflict of classes . . . the dream of the
earthly paradise, to be brought into being through civil war, becomes
instantly the reality of hell let loose." After dwelling in detail on
various aspects of the situation, the writer makes some statements
which will be of special interest to readers of M. Finot's study of
pre-war religious conditions in Russia. He speaks of the growth of
unbelief among the masses, and declares that "the empty triumph of
Bolshevism would have been impossible but for the utter enfeeblement of
the religious life of the nation"; but--and this is the point of
interest--"thanks to the persecutions which the revolution has set on
foot, there has come into being a genuine religious revival. . . . The
Church, pillaged and persecuted, lost all the material advantages it
had hitherto enjoyed: in return, the loss of all these relative values
was made good by the absolute value of spiritual independence. . . .
This it is that explains the growing influence of the Church on the
masses of the people: the blood of the new martyrs won their
hearts. . . . These awful sufferings are becoming a source of new
power to religion in Russia." The Prince then describes the complete
reorganisation of the church which was carried through at Moscow in
1917-18, and the restoration of the patriarchal power in the person of
the Archbishop Tykone (now Patriarch), a man of great personal courage,
high spirituality, and remarkable sweetness of disposition. The people
rallied round him in enormous numbers, attracted by his courageous
resistance to the Bolshevist movement--(a resistance which had then
frequently endangered his life, and may since have ended it)--and by
his determined avoidance of all pomp and ostentation. In the great
religious processions which took place at that time, hundreds of
thousands passed before him, but he had no bishops and very few clergy
in his retinue, only one priest and one deacon. When urged to adopt
more ceremony and display in his public appearances, he replied, "For
the love of God, don't make an idol of me." He was always ready with a
humorous word, and filled with a serene and unshakable confidence, even
in the most dangerous situations. The people looked upon him as "Holy
Russia" personified, and said that "the persecutors who would have
buried her for ever had brought her back to life."
In an appendix to the above-quoted article appears a statement "from a
responsible British source in Siberia" to the effect that "a strong
religious movement has begun among the laity and clergy of the Russian
Church. . . . The _moujiks_ are convinced that Lenin is Anti-Christ;"
and an urgent appeal for Russian Testaments and Bibles to be sent from
England, the writer having been told by a prominent ecclesiastic that
"Russian Bibles are now almost unprocurable."
Thus, having long revolted from orthodoxy in the day of its material
prosperity, the masses seem, in the day of adversity, to be returning
to it. Further developments may, of course, take place in almost any
direction, but we may rest assured of one thing--that no changes of
government, however drastic, will ever succeed in stamping out the
mystical religious strain which is so deeply embedded in the soul of
the Russian people.
PART II
THE SALVATION OF THE WEALTHY
A. RELIGION AND ECONOMY
CHAPTER I
THE MORMONS, OR LATTER-DAY SAINTS
In the American of the United States there exist two distinctly opposed
natures: the one positive and practical, the other inclined to
mysticism. The two do not clash, but live, on the contrary, on
perfectly good terms with one another. This strange co-existence of
reality and vision is explained by the origin of the race.
The American is, to a very great extent, a descendant of rigorous
Puritanism. The English, who preponderated in numbers over the other
elements of the European immigration into North America, never forgot
that they had been the comrades of Penn or of other militant
sectarians, and never lost the habit of keeping the Bible, the ledger,
and the cash-book side by side. They remained deeply attached to their
religion, which they looked upon as a social lever, although for many
of them their faith did not go beyond a conviction of the immanence of
the supernatural in human life. Thus it was that their spirits were
often dominated by a belief in miracles, all the more easily because
their intellectual culture was not always as highly developed as their
business ability, and consequently the clever manufacturers of
religious wonders were able to reap incredible harvests among them.
There is perhaps no country where the seed sown by propagandists
springs up more rapidly, where an idea thrown to the winds finds more
surely a fertile soil in which to grow. A convinced and resolute man,
knowing how to influence crowds by authoritative words, gestures and
promises, can always be certain of attracting numerous followers. In
America the conditions are without doubt propitious for the founders of
new religions.
I
How is a new religion started in the United States? Joe Smith wakes up
one morning with the thought that the hour has come for him to perform
miracles, that he is called thereto by the Divine Will, that the
existence and the secret hiding-place of a new Bible printed on sheets
of gold have been revealed to him by an angel, and that its discovery
will be the salvation of the world. He proclaims these things and
convinces those who hear him, and the Book of the Mormons which he
produces becomes sacred in the eyes of his followers.
In ever-increasing numbers they hasten first to Illinois, then to Utah;
and when Brigham Young, Smith's successor, presents the Mormon colony
with religious and political laws which are a mixture of Christianity,
Judaism and Paganism, and include the consecration of polygamy, they
found a church which claims more than a hundred thousand adherents, and
is ruled by twelve apostles, sixty patriarchs, about three thousand
high priests, fifteen hundred bishops, and over four thousand deans.
After being dissolved by the decree of the 10th of October, 1888, the
Church of the Latter-Day Saints seemed to be lost, without hope of
revival. The State of Utah, where Brigham Young had established it in
1848, was invaded by ever-growing numbers of "Gentiles," who were
hostile to the Mormons, but these latter, far from allowing the debris
of their faith to bestrew the shores of the Great Salt Lake, succeeded,
on the contrary, in strengthening the foundations of the edifice that
they had raised. The number of its adherents increased, and the colony
became more flourishing than ever. If, at one time, it was possible to
speak of its dying agonies, those who visit it to-day cannot deny the
fact of its triumphant resurrection.
Two principal causes have been its safeguard: the firm and practical
working-out of the economic and philanthropic principles upon which its
organisation has always rested, and the resolute devotion and
capability of those who direct it as the heads of one great family.
Every member is concerned to maintain the regular and effective
functioning of its mechanism, and all work for the same ends in a
spirit of religious co-operation.
We must not lose sight of the fact that in addition to the elements
they borrowed from Buddhism, Christianity, Gnosticism and Islam, the
Mormons introduced into their new Gospel a social ideal inspired by the
Communistic experiments of the first half of the nineteenth century.
The founders of Mormonism--Joseph Smith, Heber Kimball, George Smith,
the brothers Pratt, Reuben Hedlock, Willard Richards, and Brigham
Young--were not visionaries, but men risen from the people who desired
to acquire wealth while at the same time bringing wealth to those who
took part in their schemes. We find in their doctrine, and in their
legal and religious codes, not only the idea of multiple union claimed
by Enfantin and his forty disciples of Menilmontant, but also the
theories of Buchez, who desired to free labour from the servitude of
wages, to bring about solidarity of production, and to communalise
capital, after first setting aside an inalienable reserve. They
followed the example of Cabet in making fraternity, which should
guarantee division of goods, the corner-stone of their social
structure, and, avoiding the delusions of Considerant and other
Communists, they brought about, stage by stage, the rapid and lasting
development which has characterised their successive establishments in
Missouri, Illinois, and on the borders of California.
II
Militant as well as constructive, the Mormon leaders, like many other
reformers, believed themselves to be charged with a mission from on
high, and were quick to condemn as rebels all who failed to rally to
the standard of the "Latter-Day Saints." Joe Smith was not content
with making thousands of converts, but, after having turned his colony
at Independence into an "Arsenal of the Lord," and surrounding himself
with a veritable army, he proclaimed that, as the Bible gave the saints
empire over all the earth, the whole State of Missouri should be
incorporated in his "New Jerusalem." The "Gentiles" replied with a
declaration of war, and Joe Smith and his twelve apostles were seized,
publicly flogged, divested of their garments, tarred and feathered, and
chased out of the State with shouts and laughter and a hail of stones.
The Mormons took up arms. The Governor of Missouri called out the
militia. Vanquished in the encounter that followed, the Mormons had to
abandon all their possessions and take flight. They then founded a
town called Far West, and remained there for three years, at the end of
which time fresh aggressions and more battles drove them out of the
State of Missouri into that of Illinois, where they built the large
town of Nauvoo. Many thousands of fresh recruits were won over, but
once again their designs for the acquisition of land--as well as of
souls--stirred up a crusade against them. Joe Smith and the other
leaders of the sect were taken prisoners and shot--a procedure which
endowed Mormonism with all the sacredness of martyrdom. To escape
further persecutions, the Saints decided on a general exodus, and the
whole sect, men and women, old people and children, numbering in all
about eighty thousand souls, set forth into the desert.
It was a miserable journey. They were attacked by Red Indians, and
decimated by sickness; they strayed into wrong paths where no food was
to be found; they were buried in snowdrifts; and many of them perished.
But the others, sustained by an invulnerable faith, and by the undying
courage of their leaders, pushed on ever further and further, until in
the summer of 1847, after the cruel hardships of a journey on foot over
nearly three hundred leagues of salt plains, the head of the column
reached the valley of the great Salt Lake. Here Brigham Young's
strategic vision beheld a favourable situation for the re-establishment
of the sect. He himself, with a hundred and forty-three of his
companions--the elite of the church--directed the construction of the
beginnings of the colony, and then returned to those who had been left
behind, bringing back a caravan of about three thousand to the spot
where the New Jerusalem was to be built.
It was given the name of Utah, and Filmore, the President of the United
States, appointed Brigham Young as governor. The latter, however,
desired to become completely autonomous. He was soon in conflict with
those under him, and his open hostility to the American constitution
caused him to be deposed. His successor, Colonel Stepton, finding the
situation untenable, resigned almost at once, and the Mormons,
recovering their former militancy and independence, then sought to free
themselves altogether from the guardianship of America, and to be sole
masters in their own territory. In order to reduce them to submission,
President Buchanan sent them a new governor in 1857 with some thousands
of soldiers. The Mormons resisted for some time, and finally demanded
admittance into the Union. Not only did Congress refuse this request,
but it passed a law rendering all polygamists liable to be brought
before the criminal courts. The War of Secession, however, interrupted
the measures taken against the sect, which remained neutral during the
military operations of the North and South. Brigham Young, who had
remained the Mormons' civil and religious head, occupied himself only
with the economic and worldly extension of his church, until in 1870,
five years after the termination of the war, the attention of Congress
was once more directed towards him. For the second time the Mormons
were forbidden by law to practise polygamy, under penalty of
deportation from America, but they resisted energetically and refused
to obey. Defying the governor of Utah, General Scheffer, they rallied
fanatically round Brigham Young, who was arraigned and acquitted--and
the Mormon Church remained ruler of the colony.
After Young's death, government was carried on jointly by the twelve
apostles, until on October 17th, 1901, George Smith was elected
universal President of all branches.
A Frenchman, Jules Remy, who visited the Mormons some time back, has
given a striking description of them:--
"Order, peace and industry are revealed on every side. All these
people are engaged in useful work, like bees in a hive, thus justifying
the emblem on the roof of their President's palace. There are masons,
carpenters, and gardeners, all carrying out their respective duties;
blacksmiths busy at the forge, reapers gathering in the harvest,
furriers preparing rich skins, children picking maize, drovers tending
their flocks, wood-cutters returning heavily loaded from the mountains.
Others again are engaged in carding and combing wool, navvies are
digging irrigation canals, chemists are manufacturing saltpetre and
gunpowder, armourers are making or mending firearms. Tailors,
shoemakers, bricklayers, potters, millers, sawyers--every kind of
labourer or artisan is here to be found. There are no idlers, and no
unemployed. Everybody, from the humblest convert up to the bishop
himself, is occupied in some sort of manual labour. It is a curious
and interesting sight--a society so industrious and sober, so peaceful
and well-regulated, yet built up of such divers elements drawn from
such widely differing classes. . . .
All these people, born in varied and often contradictory faiths,
brought up for the most part in ignorance and prejudice, having lived,
some virtuously, some indifferently, some in complete abandonment to
their lowest animal instincts, differing among themselves as to
climate, language, customs, tastes and nationality, are here drawn
together to live in a state of harmony far more perfect than that of
ordinary brotherhood. In the centre of the American continent they
form a new and compact nation, with independent social and religious
laws, and are as little subject to the United States government that
harbours them as to that, for instance, of the Turks."
Such they were, and such they have remained, ever developing their
activities and industries, and--as another traveller has said--having
no aim save that of turning their arid and uncultivated "Promised Land"
into a fertile Judea--an aim in which they have marvellously succeeded.
III
Mormonism owes its success chiefly to its practical interpretation of
the Communistic ideals, and to its determination to encourage labour by
means of religion and patriotism, setting before it as object the
satisfaction of each individual's social needs, under the direction of
those who have proved themselves capable and vigilant and worthy of
confidence. It is a republic from which are banished the two most
usual causes of social collapse--idleness and egotism; a hive,
according to its founder, in which each bee, having his particular
function, is always under the eye of those who direct individual
activities in the interests of collective welfare. The President of
the Mormon Church is its moving spirit. He surveys it as a whole,
encourages or moderates its energies, according to circumstances,
preserves order and regularity, and exercises his paternal influence
over every cell of the hive, giving counsel when needed, redressing
grievances, preventing false moves, yet leaving to every corporation
not only its administrative freedom but its own powers for industrial
extension.
Under these conditions the Church of the Latter-Day Saints unites the
social and economic advantages of individual and collective labour.
The corporations are like stitches that form a net, holding together
through community of interests and a general desire for prosperity, yet
each having its own separate formation and the power to enlarge itself
and increase its activities without compromising the others or
lessening their respective importance. One of the most remarkable is
the "Mercantile Co-operative Society of Sion," the central department
of wholesale and retail trade. It was founded in 1863 by Brigham
Young, who was its first president, and is in direct relationship with
the Mormon colonies all over the world, having a capital fund of more
than a million dollars which belongs exclusively to the Mormons. Its
organisation, like that of all Mormon institutions, is based upon the
deduction of a tithe of all profits, which practically represents
income tax. The "Sugar Corporation" has an even larger capital, and
was founded directly by the church through the advice of Brigham Young,
who recommended that Mormon industries should be patronised to the
exclusion of all others. The salt industry also is of much importance,
the Inland Crystal Salt Company having at great expense erected
elaborate machinery in order to work the salt marshes around the Great
Lake, and to obtain, under the best possible conditions, grey salt
which is converted into white in their refineries. Other corporations
under the presidency of the supreme head of the Mormon Church are the
"Consolidated Company of Railway Carriages and Engines," the "Sion
Savings Bank," the "Co-operative Society for Lighting and Transport,"
and the chief Mormon paper, the _Desert Evening News_, which is the
official organ of the church, and has a considerable circulation.
IV
These corporations are not only commercial or industrial institutions,
but are animated by a spirit that is pre-eminently fraternal. Their
heads are concerned with the well-being of every member, and material,
moral or intellectual assistance is given to all according to their
needs.
To each corporation is attached a "delegate," whose functions do not
appear to be of great importance, but who renders, in reality, services
of considerable value. The man who holds this post is one of
unimpeachable honesty and integrity, with a kind and conciliatory
disposition, chosen for these qualities to act as intermediary between
the bishop and the "saints" of all classes, from the highest to the
lowest. He has free entry into the Mormon homes, and is always ready
to give advice and counsel to any member of the church in his district;
and he even penetrates into the houses of the Gentiles, wherever a
Mormon, man or woman, may happen to be employed. Take, for instance,
the case of a young Scandinavian servant-girl, living with
"unbelievers." The mother, who had remained in Europe, wished to
rejoin her daughter, but the girl had not been able to raise more than
a third of the sum necessary to pay the expenses of the journey. The
delegate took note of this and referred the case to the bishop, who,
after inquiry, sent the old mother the required amount.
Again, two neighbours might be disputing over the question of the
boundary between their respective properties. The delegate would do
all in his power to settle the affair amicably, and to restore harmony;
and failing in this would bring the two parties concerned before the
bishop. Or there might be an invalid requiring medicine and treatment,
an old person needing help, a layette to be bought for a new-born
child--in all such cases the delegate sees that the needs are supplied,
for the strength of this Church of the Latter-Day Saints lies in the
fact that all the Mormons, from the President down to the humblest
workman, call themselves brothers and sisters and act as such towards
one another. Thanks to the delegate, who is friend, confidant and
confessor in one, immediate help can be obtained in all instances, and
no suffering is left unrelieved.
Thus it comes about that there are no poor among the Mormons, and very
few criminals. The delegate has no need to search into the secrets of
men's minds, for all are open to him. To a great extent he is able to
read their innermost hearts, for men speak freely to him, without veils
or reservations. As far as is possible he sees that their desires are
granted; he notifies all cases of need to the Relief Societies; he
conducts the sick and aged to the hospitals; he is the messenger and
mouthpiece for all communications from the people to the bishop and
from the bishop to his flock.
It is the delegate also who is charged with the duty of seeing that
one-tenth of each person's income, whatever its total sum may be, is
contributed for the upkeep of the Mormon faith and its church. He
reminds the dilatory, and admonishes the forgetful, always in friendly
fashion. In fact it is he, who--to use a popular expression--brings
the grist to the mill. This contribution of a tenth part obviates all
other taxation, and as it is demanded from each in proportion to his
means, its fairness is disputed by none.
V
Brotherly co-operation also prevails in the Mormon system of
colonisation. The leaders of the church have always been aware of the
dangers of overcrowding, and at all times have occupied themselves with
the founding of new settlements to receive the surplus population from
the centres already in activity. It is for this reason that the church
has been so urgent in seeking and demanding new territory to irrigate
and cultivate, in Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Arizona, Idaho, and even
as far afield as Canada. The transplanting of a swarm from the parent
hive is undertaken with the greatest care. Let us take for example the
colonisation of the Big Horn Valley, in the north of Wyoming. Before
coming to a decision the apostles themselves inspected the locality,
which had been recommended as suitable for a new colony of saints.
Finding that it fulfilled all requirements, they published their
resolve in the official Press, and invited all who desired to become
members of the colony to present themselves before their bishop with
the necessary guarantees. The President of the church then sought out
a brother capable of organising the scheme, and this brother, proud and
grateful at being chosen for such a mission, sold all his goods and
took up his new responsibilities. On the appointed day the new
colonists grouped themselves around their leader, with their wagons,
baggages, provisions, agricultural tools, horses and cattle, and so on.
One of the twelve apostles being appointed as guide, they set forth for
the Big Horn Valley. Here they built their dwelling-places, dug a
canal to provide water for the whole settlement, founded all kinds of
co-operative societies, including one for the breeding of cattle--and
prospered.
In this way, upon a Socialism quite distinct from that of the European
theorists, and differing widely from that practised by the New
Zealanders, are built up institutions, which have given proof, wherever
started, of their power of resistance to human weaknesses. The Mormon
colonies, fundamentally collectivist, like the sect from which they
originally sprang, still bear the imprint given to them by the
initiators of the movement. Each one becomes industrially and
commercially autonomous, but all are firmly held together in a common
brotherhood by the ties of religion. The Big Horn Mormons, although so
far away, never for a single day forget their brothers of Salt Lake
City, and all alike hold themselves ever in readiness to render mutual
assistance and support.
VI
The Mormon considers activity a duty. Co-operation implies for him not
only solidarity of labour but union of will, and these principles are
applied in all phases of his public or private life--in politics,
education, social conditions of every kind, and even amusements. He
holds it obligatory under all circumstances to contribute personal help
or money according to his means, knowing that his brothers and sisters
will do likewise, and that he can rely upon them with absolute
certainty.
Nevertheless, dissension does occasionally arise in the heart of this
close-knit brotherhood. The authority of the President, or that of the
apostles and bishops may be the cause of rivalries and jealousies, as
in the case of Joseph Morris, Brigham Young's confidant, who wished to
supplant his chief. He and his partisans were assaulted and put to
death by Young's adherents. A spirit of discord also manifests itself
at times in the national elections, and there are plottings and
intrigues, especially when there seems to be hope of supremacy in
Congress, or when one of the twelve apostles offers himself as
candidate for the Senate without first consulting the Mormon Church.
Such shadows are inseparable from all human communities. What it is
important to study in the Church of the Latter-Day Saints is the
evolution of a communism which has more than half a century of activity
to its credit, and which, in contrast to so many other fruitless
attempts, has given marked proofs of a vitality that shows no sign of
diminishing.
CHAPTER II
THE RELIGION OF BUSINESS
Joe Smith was, to speak plainly, nothing but an adventurer. Having
tried more than twenty avocations, ending up with that of a
gold-digger, he found himself at last at the end of his resources, and
decided, in truly American fashion, that he would now make his fortune.
He thereupon announced that he was in close communication with Moses,
and that he had in his possession the two mosaic talismans, Urim and
Thummim, and the manuscript of the Biblical prophet, Mormon--the latter
having as a matter of fact been obtained from Solomon Spaulding, pastor
of New Salem, Ohio, in 1812.
It was different with John Alexander Dowie, who with remarkable wisdom
seized the psychological moment to appear in the United States as a
Barnum and a Pierpont Morgan of religion combined. By what was an
indisputable stroke of genius, he incorporated into his religion the
most outstanding features of American life--commerce, industry, and
finance, the tripod upon which the Union rests. What could be more
up-to-date than a commercial and industrial prophet, business man,
stock-jobber, and organiser of enterprises paying fabulous dividends?
And--surely the crowning point of the "new spirit!"--the man who now
declared himself to be the most direct representative of God upon earth
was accepted as such because people saw in him, not only the Messianic
power that he claimed, but an extraordinary knowledge of the value of
stocks and shares side by side with his knowledge of the value of souls!
He was of Scottish origin, and had reached his thirtieth year before
his name became known. As a child he was disinclined to take religion
seriously, and had a habit of whistling the hymns in church instead of
singing them. Later he was distinguished by a timidity and reserve
which seemed to suggest that he would never rise above the environment
into which he had been born. His studies and his beliefs--which for
long showed no sign of deviating from the hereditary Scottish
faith--were under the direction of a rigidly severe father. At the age
of thirteen his parents, attracted by the Australian mirage of those
days, took him with them to Adelaide, and he became under-clerk in a
business house there, serving an apprenticeship which was to prove
useful later on. At twenty he returned to Edinburgh, desiring to enter
the ministry, as he believed he had a religious vocation, and plunged
into the study of theology with a deep hostility to everything that was
outside a strictly literal interpretation of the Scriptures. Full of
devotion and self-abnegation in his desperate struggle with the powers
of evil, he read the Holy Book with avidity, and was constant in his
attendance at theological conferences. Thus, nourished on the marrow
of the Scotch theologians, he returned to Australia and was ordained to
the priesthood at Alma. Soon afterwards he was appointed minister to
the Congregational Church in Sydney, where his profound learning was
highly appreciated.
He who desires to attract and instruct the masses must have two gifts,
without which success is impossible--eloquence and charm. Dowie had
both. As an orator he was always master of himself, yet full of
emotion, passionate in his gestures, and easily moved to tears.
We must admit that he did not, like so many others, owe his influence
to his environment. In New South Wales, where he made his _debut_ as a
preacher at Sydney, his eloquence and his learning made so great an
impression--especially after he had emerged victorious from a
controversy with the Anglican bishop, Vaughan, brother to the
Cardinal--that the governor of the province, Sir Henry Parkes, offered
him an important Government position. He refused to accept it,
desiring, as he said, to consecrate his life to the work of God.
Persuaded--or wishing to persuade others--that he had been personally
chosen by God to fulfil the prophecy of St. Mark xvi. 17, 18, he took
up the practice of the laying-on of hands, claiming that in this way,
with the help of prayer, the sick could be cured. On these words of
the evangelist his whole doctrine was based. Through assiduous reading
he familiarised himself with medical science, as well as with
hypnotism, telepathy and suggestion, his aim being to organise and
direct a crusade against medicine as practised by the faculty. He
gathered together materials for a declaration of war against the
medicos, attacking them in their, apparently, most impregnable
positions, and showing up, often through their own observations, the
fatal inanity--in his eyes--of their therapeutics. At the same time he
managed to acquire experience of commerce, finance and administration,
and, thus equipped, he opened his campaign. Thaumaturgy, science,
occultism, eloquence, knowledge of men and of the world--all these he
brought into play. The prestige he gained was remarkable, and of
course the unimpeachable truth of Bible prophecy was sufficient to
establish the fact of his identity with the expected Elias!
"Logic itself commands you to believe in me," he said in his official
manifesto. "John the Baptist was the messenger of the Alliance (which
is the Scotch Covenant), and Elias was its prophet. But Malachi and
Jesus promised the return of the messenger of the Alliance, and of
Elias the Restorer. . . . If we are deceived, it is God who has
deceived us, and that is impossible. For the office with which we are
charged is held directly from God, and those who have helped us in
founding our Church, and who have given us their devotion, testify that
they have been instructed to do so by personal revelations."
All the believers in Dowieism affirmed that John Alexander Dowie was
Elias the Second, or Elias the Third (if John the Baptist were
considered to be the Second), but Dowie himself went further still. He
was too modern to base his influence on religion alone, and he actually
had the cleverness to become not only a banker, manufacturer,
hotel-keeper, newspaper proprietor, editor and multi-millionaire, but
also the principal of a college and the "boss" of a political party
which acknowledged him as spiritual and temporal pope and numbered over
sixty thousand adherents. He had ten tabernacles in Chicago, and ruled
despotically the municipal affairs of one of the suburbs of the city.
II
It is interesting to study closely the way in which Dowie gradually
attained to such a powerful position. Up to his arrival in Chicago,
and even for some years after it, his career differed little from that
of the ordinary open-air evangelist with long hair and vague theories,
such as may be seen at the street-corners of so many English and
American towns. In New South Wales his excessive ardour at temperance
meetings in the public squares caused such disorder that he was twice
imprisoned, and he came to the conclusion that Melbourne would offer
better scope for his mission. He went there to establish a "Free
Christian Tabernacle," but almost immediately an epidemic of fever
broke out, and he became popular through his intrepidity in visiting
the sick, whom he claimed to be able to cure by a secret remedy, the
use of which, as a matter of fact, only resulted in augmenting the
lists of dead. But to his religious propaganda the Australians turned
a deaf ear, and after persevering for ten years he gave up, partly
because the authorities had intimated that he had best pitch his camp
elsewhere, partly, perhaps, because he was glad to leave what he later
referred to as "that nest of antipodean vipers."
We find him in San Francisco in 1888, preaching his new religion at
street-corners, and once more causing almost daily disturbances by the
vigour of his eloquence. Here again his hopes miscarried, and from
thenceforward he fixed his eyes on Chicago, where he should "meet the
devil on his own ground."
This final resolution bore good fruit, for Chicago is pre-eminently
"the city of Satan," and those who desire to wage war against him can
always be sure of plentiful hauls, whatever nets they use. It is that
type of American town where all is noise and animation, where the
population is cosmopolitan, and confusion of tongues is coupled with an
even greater confusion of beliefs; where it is possible to pursue the
avocations of theologian and pork-butcher side by side, and no one is
surprised. Called "Queen of the West" by some, Porkopolis (from its
chief industry) by others, it is a giant unique in its own kind. While
its inhabitants, in feverish activity, climb or are rushed in lifts to
the nineteenth and twentieth storeys of its immense buildings, there is
heard from time to time a call from regions beyond this life of
incessant bustle; the voice of a preacher dominates the tumult, and
this million and a half of slaughterers of sheep and oxen, jam-makers
and meat-exporters, factory-hands, distillers, brewers, tanners,
seekers of fortune by every possible means, suddenly remembers that it
has a soul to be saved, and throws it in passing, as it were, to
whoever is most dexterous in catching it. In such a _milieu_ Dowie
might indeed hope to pursue his aims with advantage.
His personality had a certain hypnotic fascination. His eloquence, his
patriarchal appearance, his supposed power of curing even the most
intractable diseases, his use of modern catch-words, his talent for
decorating the walls of his little temple with symbols such as
crutches, bandages and other trophies of "divine healing," all combined
to bring him before the public eye. He had a dispute with the doctors,
who accused him of practising their profession illegally, and another
with the clergy, who attacked him in their sermons; the populace was
stirred up against him, and laid siege to his tabernacle, and he
himself threw oil upon these various fires, and became a prominent
personage in the daily Press.
It is true that the arrest of some Dowieists whose zeal had carried
them beyond the limits of the law of Illinois was commented upon; that
long reports were published of the death of a member of the Church of
Sion who had succumbed through being refused any medical attention save
that of the high-priest of the sect; that much amusement was caused by
the dispersal of a meeting of Dowieists by firemen, who turned the hose
upon them; and much interest aroused by the legal actions brought
against Dowie for having refused to give information concerning the
Bank of Sion. All these affairs provided so many new "sensations."
But what is of importance is to attract the public, to hold their
attention, to keep them in suspense. The time came when it was
necessary to produce some more original idea, to strike a really
decisive blow, and so Dowie revealed to a stupefied Chicago that he was
the latest incarnation of the prophet Elijah. Then while the serious
Press denounced him for blasphemy, and the comic Press launched its
most highly poisoned shafts of wit against him, the whole of Sion
exulted in clamorous rejoicings. For the prophet knew his Chicago.
Credulity gained the upper hand, and the whole city flocked to the
tabernacle of Sion, desirous of beholding the new Elias at close
quarters.
III
The definite organisation of Dowieism--or Sionism, as it is more
usually called--dates from 1894. From this time forward Dowie ceased
to be merely a shepherd offering the shelter of his fold to those
desiring salvation, and, allowing evangelisation as such to take a
secondary place, became the director, inspector and general overseer of
a religious society founded upon community of both material and moral
interests, and upon fair administration of the benefits of a commercial
and industrial enterprise having many sources of revenue. In this
society, political, sociological and religious views were combined, so
that it offered an attractive investment for financial as well as
spiritual capital. Dowie was not only the religious and temporal
leader of the movement, but also the contractor for and principal
beneficiary from this gigantic co-operative scheme, which combined
selling and purchasing, manufacture and distribution, therapeutics,
social questions and religion.
Like most founders of sects, the prophet of the "New Sion" was at first
surrounded by those despairing invalids and cripples who try all kinds
of remedies, until at last they find one to which they attribute the
relief of their sufferings, whether real or fancied. Such as these
will do all that is required of them; they will give all their worldly
goods to be saved; and they paid gladly the tenth part which Dowie
immediately demanded from all who came to him, some of them even
pouring their entire fortunes into the coffers of the new Elias. The
ranks of his recruits were further swelled by crowds of hypochondriacs,
and by the superstitious, the idle, and the curious, who filled his
temple to such an extent that soon he was obliged to hire a large hall
for his Sunday meetings, at which he was wont to appear in great
magnificence with the cortege of a religious showman.
These displays attracted widespread attention, and indeed Dowie
neglected nothing in his efforts to make a deep and lasting impression
on the public mind. Here is the account of an eye-witness:--
The prophet speaks. The audience preserves a religious silence. His
voice has a quality so strange as to be startling. To see that broad
chest, that robust and muscular frame, one would expect to hear rolling
waves of sound, roarings as of thunder. But not so. The voice is
shrill and sibilant, yet with a sonority so powerful that it vibrates
on the eardrums and penetrates to the farthest corners of the hall.
Presently the real object of the sermon is revealed. The enemies of
Sion are denounced with a virulence that borders upon fury, and the
preacher attacks violently those whom he accuses of persecuting his
church. He poses as a martyr, and cries out that "the blood of the
martyr is the seed of faith"; he pours out imprecations upon other
religious sects; calls down maledictions upon the qualified doctors,
who are to him merely "sorcerers and poisoners"; consigns "the vipers
of the press" to destruction; and, carried away by the violence of his
anathemas, launches this peroration upon the ears of his admiring
audience:
"If you wish to drink your reeking pots of beer, whisky, wine, or other
disgusting alcoholic liquors; if you wish to go to the theatre and
listen to Mephistopheles, to the devil, to Marguerite, the dissolute
hussy, and Doctor Faust, her foul accomplice; if you wish to gorge
yourselves upon the oyster, scavenger of the sea, and the pig,
scavenger of the earth--a scavenger that there is some question of
making use of in the streets of Chicago (_laughter_); it you wish, I
say, to do the work of the devil, and eat the meats of the devil, you
need only to remain with the Methodists, Baptists, or such-like. Sion
is no place for you. We want only clean people, and, thanks to God, we
can make them clean. There are many among you who need cleansing. You
know that I have scoured you as was necessary, and I shall continue to
do it, for you are far from clean yet."
Then, entering into a dialogue with his hearers upon the vital point of
Sionism, he asks:
"Does America pay her tithe to God?"
The audience replies "No."
"Do the churches pay their tithes to God?"
"No."
"Do you yourselves pay your tithes to God? Stand up, those of you who
do."
The listeners stand up in thousands.
"There are a number of robbers here who remain seated, and do not pay
their tithes to God. Now I know who are the robbers. Do you know what
should be done with you? I will tell you. There is nothing for you
but the fire--the fire! Is it not villainy to rob one's brother?"
"Yes."
"Is it not villainy to rob one's mother?"
"Yes."
"Is it not the vilest villainy to rob God?"
"Yes."
"Well, there are some among you who are not ashamed of committing it.
You are robbing God all the time. You are like Ahaz, the Judean king
famed for his impiety, and if you remain as you are, you will be doomed
to eternal death. To whom does the tithe belong? What is done with
it? I am going to answer that. If anyone here says that what I
possess is taken out of the tithes, he lies--and I will make his lie
stick in his throat. The tithes and all other offerings go straight to
the general fund, and do not even pass through my hands. But I have a
right to my share of the tithes. Have I--or not?"
"Yes."
"Yes, and I shall take it when I have need of it. It is you whom I
address--you vile robbers, hypocrites, liars, who pretend to belong to
Sion and do not pay the tithe. Do you know what is reserved for you?
You will burn in eternal fire. Rise--depart from Sion!"
But no one departs. All the defaulters hasten to pay, for the prophet
inspires them with a terror very different from their dread of the
tax-collector, and there is no single example of one sufficiently
obstinate to brave his threats of damnation.
In other ways also Elias was all-powerful. He made a mock of political
or ecclesiastical elections, holding that a leader's power should not
be subject to suffrages or renewals of confidence. Thanks to these
sermons, dialogues, and the general _mise en scene_, the autocracy of
Dowie was beyond question.
IV
The new Elias called himself "the divine healer," and, like Schlatter,
he attracted all who believed in the direct intervention of God, acting
personally upon the sufferer. In their eyes he was simply the
representative of God, source of health and healing. It was not he who
brought about the cures, but God, and therefore the payments that were
made to him were in reality payments to God. This teaching was largely
the source of Dowie's power.
There were two large hotels in Chicago which were continually filled to
overflowing with pilgrims from all parts who came to seek "divine
healing." These left behind them sums of money--often considerable--in
token of their gratitude to God; not to the prophet, who would accept
nothing.
It is obvious that if none of his cures had been effectual, Dowie, in
spite of his power over credulous minds, could not have succeeded.
Thaumaturgy must perform its miracles. If it fails to do so, it is a
fraud, and its incapacity proves its ruin. But if it accomplishes
them, its fame becomes widespread. These miraculous cures generally
take place, not singly, but in numbers, because there are always people
who respond to suggestion, and invalids who become cured when the
obligation to be cured, in the name of God, is placed upon them. Thus
Chicago saw and wondered at the miracles, and had no doubts of their
genuineness.
There was the case of Mr. Barnard, one of the heads of the National
Bank of Chicago, whose twelve-year-old daughter was suffering from
spinal curvature. She grew worse, in spite of all the efforts of the
most eminent doctors and surgeons, and it seemed that nothing could be
done. The child must either die, or remained deformed for the rest of
her life. The father and mother were overcome with grief, and after
having gone the round of all the big-wigs of the medical profession,
they tried first bone-setters, then Christian Scientists, without
avail. Finally they went to Dowie, who had already cured one of their
friends. Up till then they had not had confidence in him, and they
only went to him as a counsel of despair, so to speak, and because a
careful re-reading of the Bible had persuaded them that God could and
would cure all who had faith in His supreme power. Dowie, perceiving
that they and their daughter had true faith, laid his hands on the
child and prayed. In that same moment the curvature disappeared, and
the cure was complete, for there was never any return of the trouble.
In recognition of this divine favour Mr. Barnard, who had hitherto
belonged to the Presbyterian Church, voluntarily joined the Sionists,
and became their chief auxiliary financier. Dowie made him manager of
the Bank of Sion, under his own supervision, and confided to him the
financial administration of the church.
Similarly a Mr. Peckman, whose wife he cured, and who was leader of the
Baptist Church of Indiana, gave thanks to God and to Dowie, His
prophet, by founding a colony affiliated to Sionism which paid its
tithes regularly.
There are many other examples of successful cures, but also many
failures. These, however, did not lower the prestige of the modern
Elias, who said to his detractors: "God has the power to cure, and all
cures are due to Him alone. He desires to cure all who suffer, for His
pity is infinite; but it may very well happen that the consumptives and
paralytics who come to me after being given up by the doctors, are not
always cured by God, however much I pray for them. Why is this? The
reason is simple. Disease and death must be looked upon as ills due to
the devil, who, since the fall of the rebellious angels, is always in a
state of insurrection against God. And it is certain that whoever has
not faith--absolute and unquestionable faith--is in the power of Satan.
The Scripture tells us precisely, 'he that believeth and is baptised
shall be saved; he that believeth not is condemned.' When a sufferer
is not healed through my intercession, it means that in the struggle
for that particular soul, the devil has been victorious."
So, supported by this thesis, Dowie triumphed over the objections of
his critics, not only in the eyes of Sion, but of all Chicago. Even
when he lost his only daughter, Esther, his authority was in no way
affected.
Esther Dowie was twenty-one, and the pride of her father's heart. She
had finished her studies at the University of Chicago, and a happy
future seemed to be opening out before her. One day in the month of
May she was preparing for a large reception which was being held in
honour of young Booth-Clibborn, grandson of General Booth of the
Salvation Army. The event was an important one, for it was hoped that
this meeting would bring about an understanding between the
Salvationists and the Sionists, and Miss Dowie wished to give the
visitor the most gracious welcome possible. She was lighting a
spirit-lamp, for the purpose of waving her hair, when a draught of air
blew her peignoir into the flame. It caught fire, and the poor girl
was so terribly burned that she succumbed soon afterwards, although her
father and all the elders of the Church prayed at her bedside, and
although Dowie permitted a doctor to attend her and to make copious use
of vaseline. After her death, the jury decided that she must have been
burnt internally, the flames having penetrated to her throat and lungs.
Before she died she begged her father to forgive her for having
disobeyed him--for Dowie strictly forbade the use of alcohol, even in a
spirit-lamp--and implored the adherents of Sionism not to expose
themselves to death through disobedience, as she had done.
The attitude adopted by the prophet under this blow was almost sublime.
Letters of condolence and of admiration rained upon him. He wept over
his daughter's dead body, and was broken-hearted, while, instead of
drawing attention to the extenuating circumstances for his own
inability to save her--as he would have done in all other cases--he
fervently prayed to God to forgive her for having sinned against the
laws of Sion. His grief was so sincere that not only the Sionists but
the whole of Chicago joined in it.
Lack of faith was not the only thing that prevented cures. Omitting to
pay the tithes could also render them impossible; for the tithes were
due to God, and those who failed to pay them committed a voluntary
offence against the divine power. When we remember that there were at
least sixty thousand Sionists, it is obvious that these tithes must
have amounted to an enormous sum--and of this sum Dowie never gave any
account. His spiritual power was founded upon his moral power. It is
certain that he tried to influence his followers for good in forbidding
them alcoholic drinks and gambling, and in advising exercise and
recreation in the open air, and the avoidance of medicaments and drugs
which he believed did more harm than good. He said to them--"Your
health is a natural thing, for health is the state of grace in man, and
the result of being in accord with God, and disease has no other cause
than the violation of law, religious or moral." He ordained that all
should live in a state of cleanliness, industry and order, so that
communal prosperity might be assured. And of this prosperity which
they owed to God and to His representative, what more just than that a
part of it should be given to God and to Dowie, His prophet? What more
legitimate than that there should be no separation between the material
life and the spiritual life?
He had a special machine constructed which registered, by a kind of
clockwork, the intercessions made on behalf of the various applicants
for healing. Each one would receive a printed bulletin, stating, for
example--"Prayed on the 10th of March, at four o'clock in the
afternoon, John A. Dowie." If the patient was not in Chicago, Dowie
would pray by telephone, so that the immediate effect of the divine
power might be felt. He also made use of a phonograph for recording
his homilies, sermons and prayers, and these records were sent, at a
fixed price, to his adherents in all parts of the world.
V
The city of Sion lies between Chicago and Milwaukee, about forty-two
miles to the north of the former. It comprises an estate of 6400 acres
on the shores of Lake Michigan. This land--some of the best in
Illinois--was let out in lots, on long lease, by Dowie to his
followers, and brought in thousands of dollars yearly. At the same
time that he created this principle of speculation in land, he was also
engaged in founding a special industry, whose products were sold as
"products of Sion." His choice fell upon the lace industry, and thanks
to very clever management he was able to establish large factories
modelled on those of Nottingham, employing many hundreds of workers
whose goods commanded a considerable sale.
Before he undertook its organisation the possessions of the Church were
few. Fifteen years afterwards, it had a fortune of more than a million
pounds.