If we are to believe Russian theologians, the Russian Church, with its
czar, realizes in a certain measure the ideal of a church sustained by a
powerful sovereign, which to many persons is the most desirable state of
things possible. We may call to mind the saying of the Count de Maistre on
the Holy Roman Empire, which was neither holy, nor Roman, nor an empire;
in fact, the testimony of history leaves us in doubt as to whether this
institution has served more to protect or to afflict the Catholic Church.
Prosperity or reverses, it is true, alike turn to the advantage of those
dear to God; but scarcely will any one take upon himself to maintain that,
because reverses are useful to the church, they must be purposely procured
for her. And therefore, whatever may be, for a longer or shorter time, the
probable advantages of this institution, it is best, if we mistake not, to
leave its revival to the providence of God. But if such is the teaching of
history with regard to an emperor, guardian of the faith and protector of
the Catholic Church, history condemns with a far more powerful eloquence
the strange protection with which the czars have overshadowed their
communion. In the _Spiritual Regulation_ may be seen the passage in which
Peter the Great is designated the “guardian of orthodoxy and of all things
relating to good order in the holy church.”(135) The successors of Peter
continued to declare themselves invested with the same mission, and this
passage of the _Spiritual Regulation_ was also inserted in the Russian
Code.(136)
To be the guardian of orthodoxy, and of all which concerns good order in
the holy church, is in fact the _first duty_ of a Christian monarch. We
will examine briefly the manner in which the czars have acquitted
themselves of this duty.
Any reader who, without being repelled by the subject and form of the
_Spiritual Regulation_, would impose upon himself the trouble of perusing
them, text and notes, to the end, would have no difficulty in
understanding with what good reason Protestants can and must look upon
Peter as one of themselves. The Protestant tendencies of the _Spiritual
Regulation_ are evident. The reader will also observe the precautions, all
in favor of the Protestants, there taken for the preaching of the divine
Word. The priests, the monks, and the bishops of the Orthodox Church,
treated as they were by Peter, were made to appear simply contemptible. In
the same way, the favor publicly shown by him to the Protestants of
Germany, the importance he accorded to them, and the boundless confidence
he placed in their co‐operation with him for the civilization of Russia,
and finally the ridicule he cast upon holy things in his infamous
orgies—all this can hardly be reconciled with the idea of the fulfilment
of his first duty as a Christian prince.
In the notes to the _Spiritual Regulation_ we may also perceive, in more
places than one, the manner in which Catherine II. understood and
exercised her mission as _Head of the Greek Church_; for thus she entitled
herself in writing to Voltaire. No sincerely orthodox Russian could read
the correspondence of Catherine with Voltaire without blushing. If
Protestants may fairly claim Peter I. as their own, unbelievers have a
full right to do the same with regard to Catherine, and glory in it, as in
fact they do. In various passages of these letters (which we have perused)
she ridicules not only the ceremonies but also the _sacraments_ of her
church. If to this we add the favor shown by her to the infidel
philosophers of the _Encyclopédie_, the free access which their
productions found at St. Petersburg, the atmosphere of impiety with which
she surrounded herself, and the state of her own morals, so plainly
indicative of an unbelieving soul, our estimate will not appear
exaggerated. It would in truth have been miraculous if, under such
tutelage, orthodoxy could have retained its hold upon the minds of those
who knew how to read, write, and think; and thus the unbelief that
prevails among the higher classes in Russia is the heritage of Catherine
II. If, on the other hand, she showed herself zealous for the maintenance
of faith among the lower orders, it was because she predicted the same
results from their unbelief as she did from any desire they might evince
for knowledge. “It is not for Russians,” she wrote to the Governor of
Moscow, “that I am founding schools; it is for Europe, where we must not
lose ground in public opinion. From the day that our peasants shall have a
desire for instruction, neither you nor I will remain in our places.”
Under the successors of Catherine II. Russian orthodoxy underwent various
phases, according to the degree of orthodoxy professed by the czars and
the vicissitudes of their interior and exterior policy. Paul I. was so
convinced that he was the real head of the church that he one day proposed
to say Mass.(137) On the other hand, it is certain that he contemplated
the reunion of the Russian with the Catholic Church.(138) This monarch,
however, was incapable of commanding respect, or of helping a return to
the faith, either by his intelligence or his moral qualities; and thus
incredulity continued its ravages in Russia.
In the life of Alexander I. a period is distinguishable in which the czar
had an evident leaning towards Protestantism; and his historians do not
fail to remark the influence obtained over him by the Protestant, Mme. de
Krudener. If we are not mistaken, those who so actively busied themselves
in founding a Bible society in Russia had no intention of favoring
orthodoxy.
It was also under the reign of the same czar that appeared the first
edition (1823) of the catechism of Mgr. Philaret, destined to take the
place of that by Mgr. Plato, then used for religious instruction in the
schools. Now, in 1823 Mgr. Philaret was far from being so orthodox in his
writings as he subsequently became; and the first edition of his catechism
differs materially from the later ones. “The Emperor Alexander,” writes an
author well deserving of confidence, “was an orthodox Christian, _not in
the sense of his church_, but in that of the rigorous conformity of his
belief to the fundamental doctrine of all Christian churches; which is the
redemption of mankind by the death of Jesus Christ, by means of
faith.”(139) What a stone to cast at a czar, the guardian of orthodoxy!
Notwithstanding all this, Alexander, towards the close of his life, must
have had continuous relations with Pope Pius VII.; some affirm even that
he died a Catholic.(140)
As we have seen, it was at the commencement of the reign of the Emperor
Nicholas that, at the expense of the government, the Russian youth were
sent for education to the University of Berlin. Then came the formidable
revulsion of orthodoxy, which, announced by the revision of the catechism
of Mgr. Philaret, manifested itself by the sanguinary “conversions” in
Lithuania, in 1839. The tidings were received in Europe by a general cry
of indignation; and the remembrance has not yet faded away.(141) By a
strange coincidence Nicholas, to whom is due the glory of having completed
the gigantic undertaking vainly attempted by all his predecessors, of the
codification of all the Russian laws, had desired that in the Code the
following article should be inserted: “The dominant church alone possesses
the right of leading those who do not belong to her to embrace her faith.
This faith, however, is produced by divine grace in the soul, by
instruction, by gentleness, and especially by good examples. Therefore is
it that the dominant church does not allow herself to make use of any
coercive means, how small soever, to convert to orthodoxy those who follow
other confessions and other beliefs, and, after the example and the
preaching of the apostles, she in no wise threatens those who will not be
converted from their belief to hers.” All this is to be found in the
Russian Code of 1832, of 1842, and of 1857, and continues to have the
force of law _at this present time_!(142) We will say nothing here of the
reign of the present emperor, but will merely observe that the powerful
reaction which took place almost immediately after the death of Nicholas,
and which compelled the government to enter upon the way of reforms, was
the inevitable consequence of that emperor’s conduct. It is only just that
the historians of Alexander II., in passing judgment upon his hesitations
and self‐contradictions in religious affairs, should bear in mind the
difficulty of the part bequeathed to him by Nicholas.
But neither the ten millions of _Raskolniks_ which Russia can count at
this day, nor yet the numerous unbelievers and rationalists of every shade
which she contains, protest as eloquently against the protection afforded
by the czars to orthodoxy and the church as the impotence to which the
czars have reduced that church itself for exercising any influence over
the enlightened classes. All who have written upon Russia agree in
acknowledging and deploring the degradation of the orthodox clergy.(143)
Lest we should trust ourselves, with regard to a point so delicate for us,
to any exaggerated or inexact accounts, we have been careful to be guided
in our statements by writers offering every security, not only for
competence and impartiality, but also for their sympathy with the orthodox
clergy. The author of _La Tolérance et le schisme Religieux en Russie_,
known under the name of Schédo‐Ferroti, appears to us to unite all these
qualities in a high degree. “Having,” he writes, “in the capacity of an
old engineering officer, traversed Russia in all directions, taking, on
foot and with the circumferentor in my hand, journeys of four and five
hundred kilometres; and travelling in this way for the space of six months
at a time, stopping at every village which I happened to find on my way, I
habitually addressed myself to the priest for any information I desired to
obtain, and, early taking into consideration the moral and political
importance of these men, I set myself to study them with particular
attention.... I do not exaggerate in saying that I have made the
acquaintance of many more than two hundred Russian priests. I may say that
I met with specimens of all the varieties, from the young priest but
yesterday arrived in the parish to the old man bowed down beneath a load
of moral and physical sufferings; from the priest of the regiment to the
ascetic fanatic; from the ex‐professor of the seminary, nominated to the
cure of some rich church in the capital, where he parades his rhetoric and
complacently displays his erudition, to the humble village priest scarcely
able to decipher his Breviary.”(144)
This is enough, as to the competence of M. Schédo‐Ferroti; and with regard
to his impartiality on the point we are considering, it appears in every
page, as will be proved by our quotations. For the rest, the author is a
Protestant, and argues warmly in favor of religious liberty for every
worship and for every sect.
With regard to his sympathy for the orthodox clergy, it would be difficult
to find a more devoted advocate. “It is,” he writes, “with satisfaction
that I can say that I always found better than I had expected, better than
I had any right to expect, considering the situation and the social
position in which he found himself, the man whom I had set myself to
study.”(145)
Let us add, moreover, that M. Schédo‐Ferroti is by no means tender towards
the Catholic clergy, over whom, according to him, the orthodox Russian
clergy have the advantage in not being “tainted with hypocrisy.”(146) This
is an additional reason for our choice of this author.
We will now see what he says respecting the social influence of the
Russian “popes,” quoting only a few lines: “Oppressed and disregarded by
his superiors, the pope loses three‐fourths of his means of action, for he
sees himself cast off by the upper class, tolerated by the middle class,
and turned into ridicule by the common people.... Judging from
appearances, and noticing that everywhere, even in the receptions given by
dignitaries of the church, the pope occupies the _lowest_ place, the
masses have contracted the habit of never assigning him any other.”(147)
Such are the Russian clergy who are in contact with the people—the clergy
whose office it is to instruct the Russians in orthodoxy, and to maintain
them in it. Now, this was not by any means the social position of the
clergy when Peter I. instituted the synod. On the contrary, the _Spiritual
Regulation_ shows us this czar, alarmed at the excessive influence which
the clergy at that time possessed, painting in sombre colors the dangers
resulting therefrom to the country, and finding therein his best pretext
for establishing the synod. It is the institutions of the czars which have
created for the clergy the melancholy situation in which they find
themselves at the present day, which have deprived them of all moral
influence, and have reduced them to be “cast off by the higher orders,
scarcely tolerated by the middle classes, and turned into ridicule by the
common people.” That which retains these classes, notwithstanding the
contempt in which they hold their popes, in an outward profession of
orthodoxy, is the _Penal Code_. Can it be believed that, without the
injunctions enforced by this Code, the people would confess to priests
whom they so utterly despise?
To resume: There are historical facts still living in the memory of the
Russian people which show them their czars making small account,
personally, of orthodoxy, at the very time when, by laws of great
severity, they compel its observance by the people. They see the higher
ranks sceptical or unbelieving, revolutionary ideas in favor with a great
number of their fellow‐countrymen; the _Raskolniks_, who in the time of
Peter the Great were scarcely sufficient to form themselves into sects,
now so powerful by their numbers and their political importance that they
have already forced the government and the synod into making some
considerable concessions; they see the clergy reduced, thanks to the
institutions of Peter, which have been continued and completed by his
successors, to mere agents of the police, tools in the hands of power, and
forming a caste so despised that rarely is a pope admitted further than
the antechamber of any house belonging to a member of the upper classes,
and powerless to exercise any influence whatever, even upon the lower
orders; this is a true portrait of the Russian Church of to‐day—the
Russian Church such as the czars have made it.(148)
And to‐morrow?
This to‐morrow, now drawing near, will still more clearly reveal what the
czars have made of orthodoxy and of the church of which they call
themselves the guardians. The day must soon come when, by the intrinsic
force of things, the regulations of which we have been speaking will
disappear from the Russian Code, and when nothing will force the Russians
any longer to keep up any relations with a clergy whom they scorn, nor to
practise the religion of which they are the teachers and representatives.
That will be the day to which Catherine II. looked forward with so much
dread—the day when the Russian people will “know how to read and write,
and will feel a desire for instruction.” What will happen then in Russia
has been shown to us, on a small scale, in what has taken place before our
eyes in more than one Catholic country, where the clergy, strong in the
support of the laws, lived without anxiety about the future, until
political revolutions, coming suddenly to change the relations between
church and state, placed them without any preparation face to face with
unbelief. We say, however, _on a small scale_, for if the Catholic clergy
could not foresee the first outbreak of unbelief, they required but a
little space of time in which to moderate or check its progress. Neither
in Spain nor Italy can unbelief boast of having greatly diminished the
number of Catholics; one might say rather that the new legislation has but
served to open an easy way out to those who were such only in name, and
has thus delivered the church from them. Information obtained from
undoubtedly authentic sources proves that the churches are no less filled
by the faithful, and the sacraments no less frequented, than before. This
is a state of things, which it will be difficult to find in Russia; and we
will mention the reason why.
And in the first place, if it is just to acknowledge that, in some
provinces of the countries we have just named, abuses may have crept in
among the clergy, still they were neither so serious nor so general as
people have been pleased to represent them. Their principal source was to
be found in the too great number of ecclesiastics, of whom some had
entered holy orders without a true vocation. But, precisely by reason of
the large number of priests, there are very many good ones to be found,
and enough of these to suffice amply for the needs of the faithful. Their
virtues, which contrast with the manner of life habitual to the apostles
of irreligion, thus formed a first entrenchment against unbelief.
Will it be the same in Russia?
We are far from wishing to disparage the Russian clergy. Their defects
neither destroy nor excuse any which may be met with among Catholic
priests; we will even admit that the great majority of the Russian popes
lead exemplary lives. But is it known what is the gain to unbelief, in
Russia, from even a very small minority of bad popes? In Russia each
parish has only just so many priests as are absolutely necessary to carry
on the worship; and with scarcely any exceptions, especially in the
country, no parish has more than one priest. If, then, this priest lose
the faith, unbelief will have free course in his parish. The reader would
here perhaps remind us of the monks, who are still numerous in Russia, and
ask whether these could not come to the assistance of the secular clergy.
Any Russian would smile, were such a question put to him; but we will
confine ourselves to remarking, in the first place, that the monks who
have received holy orders (_hiero‐moines_) are very rare, and, secondly,
that never would any Russian parish desire the intervention of a monk.
Stations, retreats, spiritual exercises, general communions, all these
expressions do not, so far as we know, possess even any equivalents in the
Russian language to this day, unless, indeed, in the Catholic books in
that tongue which the government of St. Petersburg has recently caused to
be printed, in order, it might seem, that more prayers might ascend to
heaven in the Russian language, and fewer in Polish. In any case, the
interference of monks in the management of parishes would be a far bolder
innovation even than the “correction” of the liturgical books, which
gained for Russia the ten millions of sectaries she can reckon at the
present day. And this comparison reminds us that on the self‐same day
whereon orthodoxy shall lose the support of the Penal Code, the Russian
popes will not only have to defend it against unbelief, but also against
the various Russian sects, some of which surpass in their diabolical
superstitions and abominable mysteries all that has been related of the
Gnostics and Manicheans. And, moreover, it must not be forgotten that the
Russian popes, however exemplary they may be, and however full of zeal for
orthodoxy, are married priests. Thus one quality is wanting to them, of
which the prestige is far from being superfluous.
We will not ask how it happens that the Russian clergy, if truly virtuous,
are “cast off by the higher classes, barely tolerated by the middle class,
and turned into ridicule by the lower orders of the people,” when goodness
and virtue rarely, if ever, fail to give their possessor an ascendency,
especially over the masses, which is independent of either rank or
learning. At the same time, we do not intend to place any reliance on the
statements we find in Russian writings on this subject; the falsehoods and
exaggerations which are so frequent, even in Catholic countries, with
regard to priests, make it a duty to receive with mistrust the accusations
of the Russians against their clergy. But, we repeat, the Russian clergy
who are in contact with the people are married, and this fact deprives
them of a quality which is far from being unnecessary.
Here we may perhaps be reminded of the Protestant ministers, especially
the Anglican, “so respectable,” we are assured, “so surrounded with
confidence and esteem, and at the same time a married clergy.”
We have made it our rule to avoid all recrimination, and therefore accept
on trust all that we are told of the excellence of the Protestant
ministers; but we ask, in our turn, how is it possible to establish a
parallel between their mission and that of the “orthodox” clergy?
Protestantism, of whatever form, recognizes no other judge than individual
reason, on many questions touching upon morals, while, on the other hand,
the “orthodox” church possesses an authority which decides upon them in
the sense least favorable to natural inclinations. It is only some few
forms of Protestantism that impose any particular mode of worship; whereas
the orthodox communion does not on this point allow freedom of choice to
its members. Protestantism has banished expiatory works; the orthodox
church requires prolonged fasts and abstinences. Protestantism sends us to
God for the humble confession of our sins, but the orthodox church
commands that they should be confessed to a priest, in order to obtain, by
this painful act of humiliation, the pardon of God. If Protestantism
points to Jesus Christ as our model, it nevertheless circumscribes the
sphere in which we are allowed to imitate him; while the orthodox church
fixes no limit to the imitation of our divine Example. Virginity, poverty,
and obedience are for Protestantism that which the cross was to the
Gentiles—“foolishness”; but the orthodox church recognizes in them the
counsels of perfection bequeathed by Christ himself to those who desire
most closely to resemble him.
We will not pursue the parallel further.
To Be Continued.
The Leap For Life.