AMONG THE HERETICS
The Molokanye--My Method of Investigation--Alexandrof-Hai--An Unexpected
Theological Discussion--Doctrines and Ecclesiastical Organisation of
the Molokanye--Moral Supervision and Mutual Assistance--History of the
Sect--A False Prophet--Utilitarian Christianity--Classification of
the Fantastic Sects--The "Khlysti"--Policy of the Government towards
Sectarianism--Two Kinds of Heresy--Probable Future of the Heretical
Sects--Political Disaffection.
Whilst travelling on the Steppe I heard a great deal about a peculiar
religious sect called the Molokanye, and I felt interested in them
because their religious belief, whatever it was, seemed to have a
beneficial influence on their material welfare. Of the same race and
placed in the same conditions as the Orthodox peasantry around them,
they were undoubtedly better housed, better clad, more punctual in
the payment of their taxes, and, in a word, more prosperous. All my
informants agreed in describing them as quiet, decent, sober people;
but regarding their religious doctrines the evidence was vague and
contradictory. Some described them as Protestants or Lutherans, whilst
others believed them to be the last remnants of a curious heretical sect
which existed in the early Christian Church.
Desirous of obtaining clear notions on the subject, I determined to
investigate the matter for myself. At first I found this to be no easy
task. In the villages through which I passed I found numerous members of
the sect, but they all showed a decided repugnance to speak about their
religious beliefs. Long accustomed to extortion and persecution at the
hands of the Administration, and suspecting me to be a secret agent of
the Government, they carefully avoided speaking on any subject beyond
the state of the weather and the prospects of the harvest, and replied
to my questions on other topics as if they had been standing before a
Grand Inquisitor.
A few unsuccessful attempts convinced me that it would be impossible
to extract from them their religious beliefs by direct questioning. I
adopted, therefore, a different system of tactics. From meagre replies
already received I had discovered that their doctrine had at least a
superficial resemblance to Presbyterianism, and from former experience
I was aware that the curiosity of intelligent Russian peasants is easily
excited by descriptions of foreign countries. On these two facts I
based my plan of campaign. When I found a Molokan, or some one whom I
suspected to be such, I talked for some time about the weather and the
crops, as if I had no ulterior object in view. Having fully discussed
this matter, I led the conversation gradually from the weather and crops
in Russia to the weather and crops in Scotland, and then passed slowly
from Scotch agriculture to the Scotch Presbyterian Church. On nearly
every occasion this policy succeeded. When the peasant heard that
there was a country where the people interpreted the Scriptures for
themselves, had no bishops, and considered the veneration of Icons as
idolatry, he invariably listened with profound attention; and when he
learned further that in that wonderful country the parishes annually
sent deputies to an assembly in which all matters pertaining to the
Church were freely and publicly discussed, he almost always gave free
expression to his astonishment, and I had to answer a whole volley of
questions. "Where is that country?" "Is it to the east, or the west?"
"Is it very far away?" "If our Presbyter could only hear all that!"
This last expression was precisely what I wanted, because it gave me
an opportunity of making the acquaintance of the Presbyter, or pastor,
without seeming to desire it; and I knew that a conversation with that
personage, who is always an uneducated peasant like the others, but
is generally more intelligent and better acquainted with religious
doctrine, would certainly be of use to me. On more than one occasion I
spent a great part of the night with a Presbyter, and thereby learned
much concerning the religious beliefs and practices of the sect. After
these interviews I was sure to be treated with confidence and respect by
all the Molokanye in the village, and recommended to the brethren of
the faith in the neighbouring villages through which I intended to pass.
Several of the more intelligent peasants with whom I spoke advised me
strongly to visit Alexandrof-Hai, a village situated on the borders of
the Kirghiz Steppe. "We are dark [i.e., ignorant] people here," they
were wont to say, "and do not know anything, but in Alexandrof-Hai you
will find those who know the faith, and they will discuss with you."
This prediction was fulfilled in a somewhat unexpected way.
When returning some weeks later from a visit to the Kirghiz of the Inner
Horde, I arrived one evening at this centre of the Molokan faith,
and was hospitably received by one of the brotherhood. In conversing
casually with my host on religious subjects I expressed to him a desire
to find some one well read in Holy Writ and well grounded in the faith,
and he promised to do what he could for me in this respect. Next morning
he kept his promise with a vengeance. Immediately after the tea-urn had
been removed the door of the room was opened and twelve peasants were
ushered in! After the customary salutations with these unexpected
visitors, my host informed me to my astonishment that his friends
had come to have a talk with me about the faith; and without further
ceremony he placed before me a folio Bible in the old Slavonic tongue,
in order that I might read passages in support of my arguments. As I was
not at all prepared to open a formal theological discussion, I felt not
a little embarrassed, and I could see that my travelling companions,
two Russian friends who cared for none of these things, were thoroughly
enjoying my discomfiture. There was, however, no possibility of drawing
back. I had asked for an opportunity of having a talk with some of the
brethren, and now I had got it in a way that I certainly did not expect.
My friends withdrew--"leaving me to my fate," as they whispered to
me--and the "talk" began.
My fate was by no means so terrible as had been anticipated, but at
first the situation was a little awkward. Neither party had any clear
ideas as to what the other desired, and my visitors expected that I
was to begin the proceedings. This expectation was quite natural and
justifiable, for I had inadvertently invited them to meet me, but I
could not make a speech to them, for the best of all reasons--that I
did not know what to say. If I told them my real aims, their suspicions
would probably be aroused. My usual stratagem of the weather and the
crops was wholly inapplicable. For a moment I thought of proposing that
a psalm should be sung as a means of breaking the ice, but I felt that
this would give to the meeting a solemnity which I wished to avoid. On
the whole it seemed best to begin at once a formal discussion. I told
them, therefore, that I had spoken with many of their brethren in
various villages, and that I had found what I considered grave errors
of doctrine. I could not, for instance, agree with them in their belief
that it was unlawful to eat pork. This was perhaps an abrupt way
of entering on the subject, but it furnished at least a locus
standi--something to talk about--and an animated discussion immediately
ensued. My opponents first endeavoured to prove their thesis from the
New Testament, and when this argument broke down they had recourse
to the Pentateuch. From a particular article of the ceremonial law we
passed to the broader question as to how far the ceremonial law is still
binding, and from this to other points equally important.
If the logic of the peasants was not always unimpeachable, their
knowledge of the Scriptures left nothing to be desired. In support
of their views they quoted long passages from memory, and whenever I
indicated vaguely any text which I needed, they at once supplied it
verbatim, so that the big folio Bible served merely as an ornament.
Three or four of them seemed to know the whole of the New Testament by
heart. The course of our informal debate need not here be described;
suffice it to say that, after four hours of uninterrupted conversation,
we agreed to differ on questions of detail, and parted from each other
without a trace of that ill-feeling which religious discussion commonly
engenders. Never have I met men more honest and courteous in debate,
more earnest in the search after truth, more careless of dialectical
triumphs, than these simple, uneducated muzhiks. If at one or two points
in the discussion a little undue warmth was displayed, I must do my
opponents the justice to say that they were not the offending party.
This long discussion, as well as numerous discussions which I had
had before and since have had with Molokanye in various parts of the
country, confirmed my first impression that their doctrines have a
strong resemblance to Presbyterianism. There is, however, an important
difference. Presbyterianism has an ecclesiastical organisation and a
written creed, and its doctrines have long since become clearly defined
by means of public discussion, polemical literature, and general
assemblies. The Molokanye, on the contrary, have had no means of
developing their fundamental principles and forming their vague
religious beliefs into a clearly defined logical system. Their theology
is therefore still in a half-fluid state, so that it is impossible to
predict what form it will ultimately assume. "We have not yet thought
about that," I have frequently been told when I inquired about some
abstruse doctrine; "we must talk about it at the meeting next Sunday.
What is your opinion?" Besides this, their fundamental principles allow
great latitude for individual and local differences of opinion. They
hold that Holy Writ is the only rule of faith and conduct, but that it
must be taken in the spiritual, and not in the literal, sense. As there
is no terrestrial authority to which doubtful points can be referred,
each individual is free to adopt the interpretation which commends
itself to his own judgment. This will no doubt ultimately lead to a
variety of sects, and already there is a considerable diversity of
opinion between different communities; but this diversity has not yet
been recognised, and I may say that I nowhere found that fanatically
dogmatic, quibbling spirit which is usually the soul of sectarianism.
For their ecclesiastical organisation the Molokanye take as their
model the early Apostolic Church, as depicted in the New Testament, and
uncompromisingly reject all later authorities. In accordance with this
model they have no hierarchy and no paid clergy, but choose from among
themselves a Presbyter and two assistants--men well known among
the brethren for their exemplary life and their knowledge of the
Scriptures--whose duty it is to watch over the religious and moral
welfare of the flock. On Sundays they hold meetings in private
houses--they are not allowed to build churches--and spend two or three
hours in psalm singing, prayer, reading the Scriptures, and friendly
conversation on religious subjects. If any one has a doctrinal
difficulty which he desires to have cleared up, he states it to the
congregation, and some of the others give their opinions, with the texts
on which the opinions are founded. If the question seems clearly solved
by the texts, it is decided; if not, it is left open.
As in many young sects, there exists among the Molokanye a system of
severe moral supervision. If a member has been guilty of drunkenness or
any act unbecoming a Christian, he is first admonished by the Presbyter
in private or before the congregation; and if this does not produce the
desired effect, he is excluded for a longer or shorter period from the
meetings and from all intercourse with the members. In extreme cases
expulsion is resorted to. On the other hand, if any one of the members
happens to be, from no fault of his own, in pecuniary difficulties,
the others will assist him. This system of mutual control and mutual
assistance has no doubt something to do with the fact that the Molokanye
are distinguished from the surrounding population by their sobriety,
uprightness, and material prosperity.
Of the history of the sect my friends in Alexandrof-Hai could tell me
very little, but I have obtained from other quarters some interesting
information. The founder was a peasant of the province of Tambof called
Uklein, who lived in the reign of Catherine II., and gained his living
as an itinerant tailor. For some time he belonged to the sect of the
Dukhobortsi--who are sometimes called the Russian Quakers, and who have
recently become known in Western Europe through the efforts of Count
Tolstoy on their behalf--but he soon seceded from them, because he could
not admit their doctrine that God dwells in the human soul, and
that consequently the chief source of religious truth is internal
enlightenment. To him it seemed that religious truth was to be found
only in the Scriptures. With this doctrine he soon made many converts,
and one day he unexpectedly entered the town of Tambof, surrounded by
seventy "Apostles" chanting psalms. They were all quickly arrested
and imprisoned, and when the affair was reported to St. Petersburg
the Empress Catherine ordered that they should be handed over to the
ecclesiastical authorities, and that in the event of their proving
obdurate to exhortation they should be tried by the Criminal Courts.
Uklein professed to recant, and was liberated; but he continued his
teaching secretly in the villages, and at the time of his death he was
believed to have no less than five thousand followers.
As to the actual strength of the sect it is difficult to form even a
conjecture. Certainly it has many thousand members--probably several
hundred thousand. Formerly the Government transported them from the
central provinces to the thinly populated outlying districts, where
they had less opportunity of contaminating Orthodox neighbours; and
accordingly we find them in the southeastern districts of Samara, on the
north coast of the Sea of Azof, in the Crimea, in the Caucasus, and
in Siberia. There are still, however, very many of them in the central
region, especially in the province of Tambof.
The readiness with which the Molokanye modify their opinions and beliefs
in accordance with what seems to them new light saves them effectually
from bigotry and fanaticism, but it at the same time exposes them to
evils of a different kind, from which they might be preserved by a
few stubborn prejudices. "False prophets arise among us," said an old,
sober-minded member to me on one occasion, "and lead many away from the
faith."
In 1835, for example, great excitement was produced among them by
rumours that the second advent of Christ was at hand, and that the
Son of Man, coming to judge the world, was about to appear in the New
Jerusalem, somewhere near Mount Ararat. As Elijah and Enoch were to
appear before the opening of the Millennium, they were anxiously
awaited by the faithful, and at last Elijah appeared, in the person of
a Melitopol peasant called Belozvorof, who announced that on a given
day he would ascend into heaven. On the day appointed a great crowd
collected, but he failed to keep his promise, and was handed over to the
police as an impostor by the Molokanye themselves. Unfortunately they
were not always so sensible as on that occasion. In the very next year
many of them were persuaded by a certain Lukian Petrof to put on their
best garments and start for the Promised Land in the Caucasus, where the
Millennium was about to begin.
Of these false prophets the most remarkable in recent times was a man
who called himself Ivan Grigorief, a mysterious personage who had at one
time a Turkish and at another an American passport, but who seemed in
all other respects a genuine Russian. Some years previously to my visit
he appeared at Alexandrof-Hai. Though he professed himself to be a good
Molokan and was received as such, he enounced at the weekly meetings
many new and startling ideas. At first he simply urged his hearers to
live like the early Christians, and have all things in common. This
seemed sound doctrine to the Molokanye, who profess to take the
early Christians as their model, and some of them thought of at once
abolishing personal property; but when the teacher intimated pretty
plainly that this communism should include free love, a decided
opposition arose, and it was objected that the early Church did not
recommend wholesale adultery and cognate sins. This was a formidable
objection, but "the prophet" was equal to the occasion. He reminded his
friends that in accordance with their own doctrine the Scriptures should
be understood, not in the literal, but in the spiritual, sense--that
Christianity had made men free, and every true Christian ought to use
his freedom.
This account of the new doctrine was given to me by an intelligent
Molokan, who had formerly been a peasant and was now a trader, as I sat
one evening in his house in Novo-usensk, the chief town of the district
in which Alexandrof-Hai is situated. It seemed to me that the author
of this ingenious attempt to conciliate Christianity with extreme
Utilitarianism must be an educated man in disguise. This conviction I
communicated to my host, but he did not agree with me.
"No, I think not," he replied; "in fact, I am sure he is a peasant,
and I strongly suspect he was at some time a soldier. He has not much
learning, but he has a wonderful gift of talking; never have I heard any
one speak like him. He would have talked over the whole village, had it
not been for an old man who was more than a match for him. And then
he went to Orloff-Hai and there he did talk the people over." What he
really did in this latter place I never could clearly ascertain. Report
said that he founded a communistic association, of which he was himself
president and treasurer, and converted the members to an extraordinary
theory of prophetic succession, invented apparently for his own sensual
gratification. For further information my host advised me to apply
either to the prophet himself, who was at that time confined in the
gaol on a charge of using a forged passport, or to one of his friends, a
certain Mr. I----, who lived in the town. As it was a difficult
matter to gain admittance to the prisoner, and I had little time at my
disposal, I adopted the latter alternative.
Mr. I---- was himself a somewhat curious character. He had been a
student in Moscow, and in consequence of some youthful indiscretions
during the University disturbances had been exiled to this place.
After waiting in vain some years for a release, he gave up the idea of
entering one of the learned professions, married a peasant girl, rented
a piece of land, bought a pair of camels, and settled down as a small
farmer.* He had a great deal to tell about the prophet.
* Here for the first time I saw camels used for agricultural
purposes. When yoked to a small four-wheeled cart, the
"ships of the desert" seemed decidedly out of place.
Grigorief, it seemed, was really simply a Russian peasant, but he had
been from his youth upwards one of those restless people who can never
long work in harness. Where his native place was, and why he left it,
he never divulged, for reasons best known to himself. He had travelled
much, and had been an attentive observer. Whether he had ever been
in America was doubtful, but he had certainly been in Turkey, and had
fraternised with various Russian sectarians, who are to be found in
considerable numbers near the Danube. Here, probably, he acquired many
of his peculiar religious ideas, and conceived his grand scheme of
founding a new religion--of rivalling the Founder of Christianity! He
aimed at nothing less than this, as he on one occasion confessed, and
he did not see why he should not be successful. He believed that
the Founder of Christianity had been simply a man like himself,
who understood better than others the people around him and the
circumstances of the time, and he was convinced that he himself had
these qualifications. One qualification, however, for becoming a prophet
he certainly did not possess: he had no genuine religious enthusiasm in
him--nothing of the martyr spirit about him. Much of his own preaching
he did not himself believe, and he had a secret contempt for those who
naively accepted it all. Not only was he cunning, but he knew he was
cunning, and he was conscious that he was playing an assumed part. And
yet perhaps it would be unjust to say that he was merely an impostor
exclusively occupied with his own personal advantage. Though he was
naturally a man of sensual tastes, and could not resist convenient
opportunities of gratifying them, he seemed to believe that his
communistic schemes would, if realised, be beneficial not only to
himself, but also to the people. Altogether a curious mixture of the
prophet, the social reformer, and the cunning impostor!
Besides the Molokanye, there are in Russia many other heretical sects.
Some of them are simply Evangelical Protestants, like the Stundisti, who
have adopted the religious conceptions of their neighbours, the German
colonists; whilst others are composed of wild enthusiasts, who give a
loose rein to their excited imagination, and revel in what the Germans
aptly term "der hohere Blodsinn." I cannot here attempt to convey even
a general idea of these fantastic sects with their doctrinal and
ceremonial absurdities, but I may offer the following classification of
them for the benefit of those who may desire to study the subject:
1. Sects which take the Scriptures as the basis of their belief, but
interpret and complete the doctrines therein contained by means of
the occasional inspiration or internal enlightenment of their leading
members.
2. Sects which reject interpretation and insist on certain passages of
Scripture being taken in the literal sense. In one of the best known
of these sects--the Skoptsi, or Eunuchs--fanaticism has led to physical
mutilation.
3. Sects which pay little or no attention to Scripture, and derive their
doctrine from the supposed inspiration of their living teachers.
4. Sects which believe in the re-incarnation of Christ.
5. Sects which confound religion with nervous excitement, and are
more or less erotic in their character. The excitement necessary for
prophesying is commonly produced by dancing, jumping, pirouetting, or
self-castigation; and the absurdities spoken at such times are regarded
as the direct expression of divine wisdom. The religious exercises
resemble more or less closely those of the "dancing dervishes" and
"howling dervishes's" with which all who have visited Constantinople are
familiar. There is, however, one important difference: the dervishes
practice their religious exercises in public, and consequently observe a
certain decorum, whilst these Russian sects assemble in secret, and give
free scope to their excitement, so that most disgusting orgies sometimes
take place at their meetings.
To illustrate the general character of the sects belonging to this last
category, I may quote here a short extract from a description of the
"Khlysti" by one who was initiated into their mysteries: "Among them
men and women alike take upon themselves the calling of teachers and
prophets, and in this character they lead a strict, ascetic life,
refrain from the most ordinary and innocent pleasures, exhaust
themselves by long fasting and wild, ecstatic religious exercises, and
abhor marriage. Under the excitement caused by their supposed holiness
and inspiration, they call themselves not only teachers and prophets,
but also 'Saviours,' 'Redeemers,' 'Christs,' 'Mothers of God.' Generally
speaking, they call themselves simply Gods, and pray to each other as to
real Gods and living Christs or Madonnas. When several of these teachers
come together at a meeting, they dispute with each other in a vain
boasting way as to which of them possesses most grace and power. In this
rivalry they sometimes give each other lusty blows on the ear, and
he who bears the blows most patiently, turning the other cheek to the
smiter, acquires the reputation of having most holiness."
Another sect belonging to this category is the Jumpers, among whom the
erotic element is disagreeably prominent. Here is a description of their
religious meetings, which are held during summer in the forest, and
during winter in some out-house or barn: "After due preparation prayers
are read by the chief teacher, dressed in a white robe and standing in
the midst of the congregation. At first he reads in an ordinary tone
of voice, and then passes gradually into a merry chant. When he remarks
that the chanting has sufficiently acted on the hearers, he begins
to jump. The hearers, singing likewise, follow his example. Their
ever-increasing excitement finds expression in the highest possible
jumps. This they continue as long as they can--men and women alike
yelling like enraged savages. When all are thoroughly exhausted, the
leader declares that he hears the angels singing"--and then begins a
scene which cannot be here described.
It is but fair to add that we know very little of these peculiar sects,
and what we do know is furnished by avowed enemies. It is very possible,
therefore, that some of them are not nearly so absurd as they are
commonly represented, and that many of the stories told are mere
calumnies.
The Government is very hostile to sectarianism, and occasionally
endeavours to suppress it. This is natural enough as regards these
fantastic sects, but it seems strange that the peaceful, industrious,
honest Molokanye and Stundisti should be put under the ban. Why is it
that a Russian peasant should be punished for holding doctrines which
are openly professed, with the sanction of the authorities, by his
neighbours, the German colonists?
To understand this the reader must know that according to Russian
conceptions there are two distinct kinds of heresy, distinguished from
each other, not by the doctrines held, but by the nationality of the
holder, it seems to a Russian in the nature of things that Tartars
should be Mahometans, that Poles should be Roman Catholics, and that
Germans should be Protestants; and the mere act of becoming a Russian
subject is not supposed to lay the Tartar, the Pole, or the German under
any obligation to change his faith. These nationalities are therefore
allowed the most perfect freedom in the exercise of their respective
religions, so long as they refrain from disturbing by propagandism the
divinely established order of things.
This is the received theory, and we must do the Russians the justice to
say that they habitually act up to it. If the Government has sometimes
attempted to convert alien races, the motive has always been political,
and the efforts have never awakened much sympathy among the people at
large, or even among the clergy. In like manner the missionary societies
which have sometimes been formed in imitation of the Western nations
have never received much popular support. Thus with regard to aliens
this peculiar theory has led to very extensive religious toleration.
With regard to the Russians themselves the theory has had a very
different effect. If in the nature of things the Tartar is a Mahometan,
the Pole a Roman Catholic, and the German a Protestant, it is equally in
the nature of things that the Russian should be a member of the Orthodox
Church. On this point the written law and public opinion are in perfect
accord. If an Orthodox Russian becomes a Roman Catholic or a Protestant,
he is amenable to the criminal law, and is at the same time condemned by
public opinion as an apostate and renegade--almost as a traitor.
As to the future of these heretical sects it is impossible to speak
with confidence. The more gross and fantastic will probably disappear
as primary education spreads among the people; but the Protestant sects
seem to possess much more vitality. For the present, at least, they are
rapidly spreading. I have seen large villages where, according to the
testimony of the inhabitants, there was not a single heretic fifteen
years before, and where one-half of the population had already become
Molokanye; and this change, be it remarked, had taken place without any
propagandist organisation. The civil and ecclesiastical authorities were
well aware of the existence of the movement, but they were powerless
to prevent it. The few efforts which they made were without effect, or
worse than useless. Among the Stundisti corporal punishment was tried as
an antidote--without the concurrence, it is to be hoped, of the central
authorities--and to the Molokanye of the province of Samara a learned
monk was sent in the hope of converting them from their errors by
reason and eloquence. What effect the birch-twigs had on the religious
convictions of the Stundisti I have not been able to ascertain, but I
assume that they were not very efficacious, for according to the latest
accounts the numbers of the sect are increasing. Of the mission in the
province of Samara I happen to know more, and can state on the evidence
of many peasants--some of them Orthodox--that the only immediate effect
was to stir up religious fanaticism, and to induce a certain number of
Orthodox to go over to the heretical camp.
In their public discussions the disputants could find no common
ground on which to argue, for the simple reason that their fundamental
conceptions were different. The monk spoke of the Church as the
terrestrial representative of Christ and the sole possessor of truth,
whilst his opponents knew nothing of a Church in this sense, and held
simply that all men should live in accordance with the dictates of
Scripture. Once the monk consented to argue with them on their own
ground, and on that occasion he sustained a signal defeat, for he could
not produce a single passage recommending the veneration of Icons--a
practice which the Russian peasants consider an essential part of
Orthodoxy. After this he always insisted on the authority of the early
Ecumenical Councils and the Fathers of the Church--an authority which
his antagonists did not recognise. Altogether the mission was a complete
failure, and all parties regretted that it had been undertaken. "It was
a great mistake," remarked to me confidentially an Orthodox peasant; "a
very great mistake. The Molokanye are a cunning people. The monk was
no match for them; they knew the Scriptures a great deal better than he
did. The Church should not condescend to discuss with heretics."
It is often said that these heretical sects are politically disaffected,
and the Molokanye are thought to be specially dangerous in this respect.
Perhaps there is a certain foundation for this opinion, for men
are naturally disposed to doubt the legitimacy of a power that
systematically persecutes them. With regard to the Molokanye, I believe
the accusation to be a groundless calumny. Political ideas seemed
entirely foreign to their modes of thought. During my intercourse with
them I often heard them refer to the police as "wolves which have to
be fed," but I never heard them speak of the Emperor otherwise than in
terms of filial affection and veneration.