THE DISSENTERS
Dissenters not to be Confounded with Heretics--Extreme Importance
Attached to Ritual Observances--The Raskol, or Great Schism in the
Seventeenth Century--Antichrist Appears!--Policy of Peter the Great
and Catherine II.--Present Ingenious Method of Securing Religious
Toleration--Internal Development of the Raskol--Schism among the
Schismatics--The Old Ritualists--The Priestless People--Cooling of the
Fanatical Enthusiasm and Formation of New Sects--Recent Policy of
the Government towards the Sectarians--Numerical Force and Political
Significance of Sectarianism.
We must be careful not to confound those heretical sects, Protestant and
fantastical, of which I have spoken in the preceding chapter, with the
more numerous Dissenters or Schismatics, the descendants of those who
seceded from the Russian Church--or more correctly from whom the Russian
Church seceded--in the seventeenth century. So far from regarding
themselves as heretics, these latter consider themselves more orthodox
than the official Orthodox Church. They are conservatives, too, in the
social as well as the religious sense of the term. Among them are to
be found the last remnants of old Russian life, untinged by foreign
influences.
The Russian Church, as I have already had occasion to remark, has
always paid inordinate attention to ceremonial observances and somewhat
neglected the doctrinal and moral elements of the faith which it
professes. This peculiarity greatly facilitated the spread of its
influence among a people accustomed to pagan rites and magical
incantations, but it had the pernicious effect of confirming in the new
converts their superstitious belief in the virtue of mere ceremonies.
Thus the Russians became zealous Christians in all matters of external
observance, without knowing much about the spiritual meaning of the
rites which they practised. They looked upon the rites and sacraments
as mysterious charms which preserved them from evil influences in the
present life and secured them eternal felicity in the life to come, and
they believed that these charms would inevitably lose their efficacy
if modified in the slightest degree. Extreme importance was therefore
attached to the ritual minutiae, and the slightest modification of these
minutiae assumed the importance of an historical event. In the year
1476, for instance, the Novgorodian Chronicler gravely relates:
"This winter some philosophers (!) began to sing, 'O Lord, have mercy,'
and others merely, 'Lord, have mercy.'" And this attaching of enormous
importance to trifles was not confined to the ignorant multitude. An
Archbishop of Novgorod declared solemnly that those who repeat the word
"Alleluia" only twice at certain points in the liturgy "sing to their
own damnation," and a celebrated Ecclesiastical Council, held in 1551,
put such matters as the position of the fingers when making the sign of
the cross on the same level as heresies--formally anathematising those
who acted in such trifles contrary to its decisions.
This conservative spirit in religious concerns had a considerable
influence on social life. As there was no clear line of demarcation
between religious observances and simple traditional customs, the most
ordinary act might receive a religious significance, and the slightest
departure from a traditional custom might be looked upon as a deadly
sin. A Russian of the olden time would have resisted the attempt to
deprive him of his beard as strenuously as a Calvinist of the present
day would resist the attempt to make him abjure the doctrine of
Predestination--and both for the same reason. As the doctrine of
Predestination is for the Calvinist, so the wearing of a beard was for
the old Russian--an essential of salvation. "Where," asked one of the
Patriarchs of Moscow, "will those who shave their chins stand at
the Last Day?--among the righteous adorned with beards, or among the
beardless heretics?" The question required no answer.
In the seventeenth century this superstitious, conservative spirit
reached its climax. The civil wars and foreign invasions, accompanied by
pillage, famine, and plagues with which that century opened, produced
a wide-spread conviction that the end of all things was at hand. The
mysterious number of the Beast was found to indicate the year 1666, and
timid souls began to discover signs of that falling away from the Faith
which is spoken of in the Apocalypse. The majority of the people did not
perhaps share this notion, but they believed that the sufferings with
which they had been visited were a Divine punishment for having forsaken
the ancient customs. And it could not be denied that considerable
changes had taken place. Orthodox Russia was now tainted with the
presence of heretics. Foreigners who shaved their chins and smoked the
accursed weed had been allowed to settle in Moscow, and the Tsars not
only held converse with them, but had even adopted some of their "pagan"
practises. Besides this, the Government had introduced innovations and
reforms, many of which were displeasing to the people. In short, the
country was polluted with "heresy"--a subtle, evil influence lurking
in everything foreign, and very dangerous to the spiritual and temporal
welfare of the Faithful--something of the nature of an epidemic, but
infinitely more dangerous; for disease kills merely the body, whereas
"heresy" kills the soul, and causes both soul and body to be cast into
hell-fire.
Had the Government introduced the innovations slowly and cautiously,
respecting as far as possible all outward forms, it might have effected
much without producing a religious panic; but, instead of acting
circumspectly as the occasion demanded, it ran full-tilt against the
ancient prejudices and superstitious fears, and drove the people into
open resistance. When the art of printing was introduced, it became
necessary to choose the best texts of the Liturgy, Psalter, and other
religious books, and on examination it was found that, through the
ignorance and carelessness of copyists, numerous errors had crept into
the manuscripts in use. This discovery led to further investigation,
which showed that certain irregularities had likewise crept into the
ceremonial. The chief of the clerical errors lay in the orthography of
the word "Jesus," and the chief irregularity in the ceremonial regarded
the position of the fingers when making the sign of the cross.
To correct these errors the celebrated Nikon, who was Patriarch in the
time of Tsar Alexis, father of Peter the Great, ordered all the old
liturgical books and the old Icons to be called in, and new ones to be
distributed; but the clergy and the people resisted. Believing these
"Nikonian novelties" to be heretical, they clung to their old Icons,
their old missals and their old religious customs as the sole anchors of
safety which could save the Faithful from drifting to perdition. In vain
the Patriarch assured the people that the change was a return to the
ancient forms still preserved in Greece and Constantinople. "The Greek
Church," it was replied, "is no longer free from heresy. Orthodoxy has
become many-coloured from the violence of the Turkish Mahomet; and
the Greeks, under the sons of Hagar, have fallen away from the ancient
traditions."
An anathema, formally pronounced by an Ecclesiastical Council against
these Nonconformists, had no more effect than the admonitions of the
Patriarch. They persevered in their obstinacy, and refused to believe
that the blessed saints and holy martyrs who had used the ancient forms
had not prayed and crossed themselves aright. "Not those holy men of
old, but the present Patriarch and his counsellors must be heretics."
"Woe to us! Woe to us!" cried the monks of Solovetsk when they received
the new Liturgies. "What have you done with the Son of God? Give him
back to us! You have changed Isus [the old Russian form of Jesus] into
Iisus! It is fearful not only to commit such a sin, but even to think
of it!" And the sturdy monks shut their gates, and defied Patriarch,
Council, and Tsar for seven long years, till the monastery was taken by
an armed force.
The decree of excommunication pronounced by the Ecclesiastical Council
placed the Nonconformists beyond the pale of the Church, and the civil
power undertook the task of persecuting them. Persecution had of course
merely the effect of confirming the victims in their belief that the
Church and the Tsar had become heretical. Thousands fled across the
frontier and settled in the neighbouring countries--Poland, Russia,
Sweden, Austria, Turkey, the Caucasus, and Siberia. Others concealed
themselves in the northern forests and the densely wooded region near
the Polish frontier, where they lived by agriculture or fishing, and
prayed, crossed themselves and buried their dead according to the
customs of their forefathers. The northern forests were their favourite
place of refuge. Hither flocked many of those who wished to keep
themselves pure and undefiled. Here the more learned men among the
Nonconformists--well acquainted with Holy Writ, with fragmentary
translations from the Greek Fathers, and with the more important
decisions of the early Ecumenical Councils--wrote polemical and edifying
works for the confounding of heretics and the confirming of true
believers. Hence were sent out in all directions zealous missionaries,
in the guise of traders, peddlers, and labourers, to sow what they
called the living seed, and what the official Church termed "Satan's
tares." When the Government agents discovered these retreats, the
inmates generally fled from the "ravenous wolves"; but on more than one
occasion a large number of fanatical men and women, shutting themselves
up, set fire to their houses, and voluntarily perished in the flames.
In Paleostrofski Monastery, for instance, in the year 1687, no less
than 2,700 fanatics gained the crown of martyrdom in this way; and many
similar instances are on record.* As in all periods of religious panic,
the Apocalypse was carefully studied, and the Millennial ideas rapidly
spread. The signs of the time were plain: Satan was being let loose
for a little season. Men anxiously looked for the reappearance of
Antichrist--and Antichrist appeared!
* A list of well-authenticated cases is given by Nilski,
"Semeinaya zhizn v russkom Raskole," St. Petersburg, 1869;
part I., pp. 55-57. The number of these self-immolators
certainly amounted to many thousands.
The man in whom the people recognised the incarnate spirit of evil was
no other than Peter the Great.
From the Nonconformist point of view, Peter had very strong claims to be
considered Antichrist. He had none of the staid, pious demeanour of the
old Tsars, and showed no respect for many things which were venerated
by the people. He ate, drank, and habitually associated with heretics,
spoke their language, wore their costume, chose from among them his most
intimate friends, and favoured them more than his own people. Imagine
the horror and commotion which would be produced among pious Catholics
if the Pope should some day appear in the costume of the Grand Turk, and
should choose Pashas as his chief counsellors! The horror which Peter's
conduct produced among a large section of his subjects was not less
great. They could not explain it otherwise than by supposing him to
be the Devil in disguise, and they saw in all his important measures
convincing proofs of his Satanic origin. The newly invented census, or
"revision," was a profane "numbering of the people," and an attempt to
enrol in the service of Beëlzebub those whose names were written in the
Lamb's Book of Life. The new title of Imperator was explained to mean
something very diabolical. The passport bearing the Imperial arms was
the seal of Antichrist. The order to shave the beard was an attempt to
disfigure "the image of God," after which man had been created, and by
which Christ would recognise His own at the Last Day. The change in
the calendar, by which New Year's Day was transferred from September
to January, was the destruction of "the years of our Lord," and the
introduction of the years of Satan in their place. Of the ingenious
arguments by which these theses were supported, I may quote one by
way of illustration. The world, it was explained, could not have been
created in January as the new calendar seemed to indicate, because
apples are not ripe at that season, and consequently Eve could not have
been tempted in the way described!*
* I found this ingenious argument in one of the polemical
treatises of the Old Believers.
These ideas regarding Peter and his reforms were strongly confirmed by
the vigorous persecutions which took place during the earlier years of
his reign. The Nonconformists were constantly convicted of political
disaffection--especially of "insulting the Imperial Majesty"--and were
accordingly flogged, tortured, and beheaded without mercy. But when
Peter had succeeded in putting down all armed opposition, and found that
the movement was no longer dangerous for the throne, he adopted a policy
more in accordance with his personal character. Whether he had himself
any religious belief whatever may be doubted; certainly he had not a
spark of religious fanaticism in his nature. Exclusively occupied with
secular concerns, he took no interest in subtle questions of religious
ceremonial, and was profoundly indifferent as to how his subjects prayed
and crossed themselves, provided they obeyed his orders in worldly
matters and paid their taxes regularly. As soon, therefore, as political
considerations admitted of clemency, he stopped the persecutions, and
at last, in 1714, issued ukazes to the effect that all Dissenters might
live unmolested, provided they inscribed themselves in the official
registers and paid a double poll-tax. Somewhat later they were allowed
to practise freely all their old rites and customs, on condition of
paying certain fines.
With the accession of Catherine II., "the friend of philosophers," the
Raskol,* as the schism had come to be called, entered on a new phase.
Penetrated with the ideas of religious toleration then in fashion
in Western Europe, Catherine abolished the disabilities to which the
Raskolniks were subjected, and invited those of them who had fled
across the frontier to return to their homes. Thousands accepted the
invitation, and many who had hitherto sought to conceal themselves from
the eyes of the authorities became rich and respected merchants. The
peculiar semi-monastic religious communities, which had up till that
time existed only in the forests of the northern and western provinces,
began to appear in Moscow, and were officially recognised by the
Administration. At first they took the form of hospitals for the
sick, or asylums for the aged and infirm, but soon they became regular
monasteries, the superiors of which exercised an undefined spiritual
authority not only over the inmates, but also over the members of the
sect throughout the length and breadth of the Empire.
* The term is derived from two Russian words--ras, asunder;
and kolot, to split. Those who belong to the Raskol are
called Raskolniki. They call themselves Staro-obriadtsi
(Old Ritualists) or Staroveri (Old Believers).
From that time down to the present the Government has followed a
wavering policy, oscillating between complete tolerance and active
persecution. It must, however, be said that the persecution has
never been of a very searching kind. In persecution, as in all other
manifestations, the Russian Church directs its attention chiefly
to external forms. It does not seek to ferret out heresy in a man's
opinions, but complacently accepts as Orthodox all who annually
appear at confession and communion, and who refrain from acts of open
hostility. Those who can make these concessions to convenience are
practically free from molestation, and those who cannot so trifle
with their conscience have an equally convenient method of escaping
persecution. The parish clergy, with their customary indifference
to things spiritual and their traditional habit of regarding their
functions from the financial point of view, are hostile to sectarianism
chiefly because it diminishes their revenues by diminishing the number
of parishioners requiring their ministrations. This cause of hostility
can easily be removed by a certain pecuniary sacrifice on the part of
the sectarians, and accordingly there generally exists between them
and their parish priest a tacit contract, by which both parties are
perfectly satisfied. The priest receives his income as if all his
parishioners belonged to the State Church, and the parishioners are
left in peace to believe and practise what they please. By this rude,
convenient method a very large amount of toleration is effectually
secured. Whether the practise has a beneficial moral influence on the
parish clergy is, of course, an entirely different question.
When the priest has been satisfied, there still remains the police,
which likewise levies an irregular tax on heterodoxy; but the
negotiations are generally not difficult, for it is in the interest of
both parties that they should come to terms and live in good-fellowship.
Thus practically the Raskolniki live in the same condition as in the
time of Peter: they pay a tax and are not molested--only the money paid
does not now find its way into the Imperial Exchequer.
These external changes in the history of the Raskol have exercised a
powerful influence on its internal development.
When formally anathematised and excluded from the dominant Church the
Nonconformists had neither a definite organisation nor a positive creed.
The only tie that bound them together was hostility to the "Nikonian
novelties," and all they desired was to preserve intact the beliefs and
customs of their forefathers. At first they never thought of creating
any permanent organisation. The more moderate believed that the Tsar
would soon re-establish Orthodoxy, and the more fanatical imagined that
the end of all things was at hand.* In either case they had only to
suffer for a little season, keeping themselves free from the taint of
heresy and from all contact with the kingdom of Antichrist.
* Some had coffins made, and lay down in them at night, in
the expectation that the Second Advent might take place
before the morning.
But years passed, and neither of these expectations was fulfilled. The
fanatics awaited in vain the sound of the last trump and the appearance
of Christ, coming with His angels to judge the world. The sun continued
to rise, and the seasons followed each other in their accustomed course,
but the end was not yet. Nor did the civil power return to the old
faith. Nikon fell a victim to Court intrigues and his own overweening
pride, and was formally deposed. Tsar Alexis in the fulness of time was
gathered unto his fathers. But there was no sign of a re-establishment
of the old Orthodoxy. Gradually the leading Raskolniki perceived that
they must make preparations, not for the Day of Judgment, but for
a terrestrial future--that they must create some permanent form of
ecclesiastical organisation. In this work they encountered at the very
outset not only practical, but also theoretical difficulties.
So long as they confined themselves simply to resisting the official
innovations, they seemed to be unanimous; but when they were forced to
abandon this negative policy and to determine theoretically their new
position, radical differences of opinion became apparent. All were
convinced that the official Russian Church had become heretical, and
that it had now Antichrist instead of Christ as its head; but it was not
easy to determine what should be done by those who refused to bow the
knee to the Son of Destruction. According to Protestant conceptions
there was a very simple solution of the difficulty: the Nonconformists
had simply to create a new Church for themselves, and worship God in
the way that seemed good to them. But to the Russians of that time such
notions were still more repulsive than the innovations of Nikon. These
men were Orthodox to the backbone--"plus royalistes que le roi"--and
according to Orthodox conceptions the founding of a new Church is an
absurdity. They believed that if the chain of historic continuity were
once broken, the Church must necessarily cease to exist, in the same way
as an ancient family becomes extinct when its sole representative dies
without issue. If, therefore, the Church had already ceased to exist,
there was no longer any means of communication between Christ and His
people, the sacraments were no longer efficacious, and mankind was
forever deprived of the ordinary means of grace.
Now, on this important point there was a difference of opinion among
the Dissenters. Some of them believed that, though the ecclesiastical
authorities had become heretical, the Church still existed in the
communion of those who had refused to accept the innovations. Others
declared boldly that the Orthodox Church had ceased to exist, that
the ancient means of grace had been withdrawn, and that those who
had remained faithful must thenceforth seek salvation, not in the
sacraments, but in prayer and such other religious exercises as did not
require the co-operation of duly consecrated priests. Thus took place a
schism among the Schismatics. The one party retained all the sacraments
and ceremonial observances in the older form; the other refrained from
the sacraments and from many of the ordinary rites, on the ground
that there was no longer a real priesthood, and that consequently
the sacraments could not be efficacious. The former party are
termed Staro-obriadsti, or Old Ritualists; the latter are called
Bezpopoftsi--that is to say, people "without priests" (bez popov).
The succeeding history of these two sections of the Nonconformists has
been widely different. The Old Ritualists, being simply ecclesiastical
Conservatives desirous of resisting all innovations, have remained a
compact body little troubled by differences of opinion. The Priestless
People, on the contrary, ever seeking to discover some new effectual
means of salvation, have fallen into an endless number of independent
sects.
The Old Ritualists had still, however, one important theoretical
difficulty. At first they had amongst themselves plenty of consecrated
priests for the celebration of the ordinances, but they had no means
of renewing the supply. They had no bishops, and according to Orthodox
belief the lower degrees of the clergy cannot be created without
episcopal consecration. At the time of the schism one bishop had thrown
in his lot with the Schismatics, but he had died shortly afterwards
without leaving a successor, and thereafter no bishop had joined their
ranks. As time wore on, the necessity of episcopal consecration came to
be more and more felt, and it is not a little interesting to observe
how these rigorists, who held to the letter of the law and declared
themselves ready to die for a jot or a tittle, modified their theory
in accordance with the changing exigencies of their position. When the
priests who had kept themselves "pure and undefiled"--free from all
contact with Antichrist--became scarce, it was discovered that certain
priests of the dominant Church might be accepted if they formally
abjured the Nikonian novelties. At first, however, only those who had
been consecrated previous to the supposed apostasy of the Church were
accepted, for the very good reason that consecration by bishops who had
become heretical could not be efficacious. When these could no longer be
obtained it was discovered that those who had been baptised previous to
the apostasy might be accepted; and when even these could no longer
be found, a still further concession was made to necessity, and all
consecrated priests were received on condition of their solemnly
abjuring their errors. Of such priests there was always an abundant
supply. If a regular priest could not find a parish, or if he was
deposed by the authorities for some crime or misdemeanour, he had merely
to pass over to the Old Ritualists, and was sure to find among them a
hearty welcome and a tolerable salary.
By these concessions the indefinite prolongation of Old Ritualism was
secured, but many of the Old Ritualists could not but feel that their
position was, to say the least, extremely anomalous. They had no bishops
of their own, and their priests were all consecrated by bishops whom
they believed to be heretical! For many years they hoped to escape
from this dilemma by discovering "Orthodox"--that is to say, Old
Ritualist--bishops somewhere in the East; but when the East had been
searched in vain, and all their efforts to obtain native bishops proved
fruitless, they conceived the design of creating a bishopric somewhere
beyond the frontier, among the Old Ritualists who had in times of
persecution fled to Prussia, Austria, and Turkey. There were, however,
immense difficulties in the way. In the first place it was necessary
to obtain the formal permission of some foreign Government; and in the
second place an Orthodox bishop must be found, willing to consecrate an
Old Ritualist or to become an Old Ritualist himself. Again and again
the attempt was made, and failed; but at last, after years of effort and
intrigue, the design was realised. In 1844 the Austrian Government gave
permission to found a bishopric at Belaya Krinitsa, in Galicia, a
few miles from the Russian frontier; and two years later the deposed
Metropolitan of Bosnia consented, after much hesitation, to pass over to
the Old Ritualist confession and accept the diocese.* From that time the
Old Ritualists have had their own bishops, and have not been obliged to
accept the runaway priests of the official Church.
* An interesting account of these negotiations, and a most
curious picture of the Orthodox ecclesiastical world in
Constantinople, is given by Subbotiny, "Istoria
Belokrinitskoi Ierarkhii," Moscow, 1874.
The Old Ritualists were naturally much grieved by the schism, and
were often sorely tried by persecution, but they have always enjoyed a
certain spiritual tranquillity, proceeding from the conviction that they
have preserved for themselves the means of salvation. The position of
the more extreme section of the Schismatics was much more tragical. They
believed that the sacraments had irretrievably lost their efficacy, that
the ordinary means of salvation were forever withdrawn, that the powers
of darkness had been let loose for a little season, that the authorities
were the agents of Satan, and that the personage who filled the place
of the old God-fearing Tsars was no other than Antichrist. Under the
influence of these horrible ideas they fled to the woods and the caves
to escape from the rage of the Beast, and to await the second coming of
Our Lord.
This state of things could not continue permanently. Extreme religious
fanaticism, like all other abnormal states, cannot long exist in a
mass of human beings without some constant exciting cause. The vulgar
necessities of everyday life, especially among people who have to live
by the labour of their hands, have a wonderfully sobering influence
on the excited brain, and must always, sooner or later, prove fatal to
inordinate excitement. A few peculiarly constituted individuals may show
themselves capable of a lifelong enthusiasm, but the multitude is ever
spasmodic in its fervour, and begins to slide back to its former apathy
as soon as the exciting cause ceases to act.
All this we find exemplified in the history of the Priestless People.
When it was found that the world did not come to an end, and that the
rigorous system of persecution was relaxed, the less excitable natures
returned to their homes, and resumed their old mode of life; and when
Peter the Great made his politic concessions, many who had declared him
to be Antichrist came to suspect that he was really not so black as he
was painted. This idea struck deep root in a religious community near
Lake Onega (Vuigovski Skit) which had received special privileges on
condition of supplying labourers for the neighbouring mines; and here
was developed a new theory which opened up a way of reconciliation with
the Government. By a more attentive study of Holy Writ and ancient books
it was discovered that the reign of Antichrist would consist of two
periods. In the former, the Son of Destruction would reign merely in
the spiritual sense, and the Faithful would not be much molested; in the
latter, he would reign visibly in the flesh, and true believers would be
subjected to the most frightful persecution. The second period, it was
held, had evidently not yet arrived, for the Faithful now enjoyed "a
time of freedom, and not of compulsion or oppression." Whether this
theory is strictly in accordance with Apocalyptic prophecy and patristic
theology may be doubted, but it fully satisfied those who had already
arrived at the conclusion by a different road, and who sought merely
a means of justifying their position. Certain it is that very many
accepted it, and determined to render unto Caesar the things that were
Caesar's, or, in secular language, to pray for the Tsar and to pay their
taxes.
This ingenious compromise was not accepted by all the Priestless People.
On the contrary, many of them regarded it as a woeful backsliding--a new
device of the Evil One; and among these irreconcilables was a certain
peasant called Theodosi, a man of little education, but of remarkable
intellectual power and unusual strength of character. He raised anew
the old fanaticism by his preaching and writings--widely circulated in
manuscript--and succeeded in founding a new sect in the forest region
near the Polish frontier.
The Priestless Nonconformists thus fell into two sections; the one,
called Pomortsi,* accepted at least a partial reconciliation with the
civil power; the other, called Theodosians, after their founder, held
to the old opinions, and refused to regard the Tsar otherwise than as
Antichrist.
*The word Pomortsi means "those who live near the seashore."
It is commonly applied to the inhabitants of the Northern
provinces--that is, those who live near the shore of the
White Sea, the only maritime frontier that Russia possessed
previous to the conquests of Peter the Great.
These latter were at first very wild in their fanaticism, but ere long
they gave way to the influences which had softened the fanaticism of the
Pomortsi. Under the liberal, conciliatory rule of Catherine they lived
in contentment, and many of them enriched themselves by trade. Their
fanatical zeal and exclusiveness evaporated under the influence
of material well-being and constant contact with the outer world,
especially after they were allowed to build a monastery in Moscow.
The Superior of this monastery, a man of much shrewdness and enormous
wealth, succeeded in gaining the favour not only of the lower officials,
who could be easily bought, but even of high-placed dignitaries, and for
many years he exercised a very real, if undefined, authority over all
sections of the Priestless People. "His fame," it is said, "sounded
throughout Moscow, and the echoes were heard in Petropol (St.
Petersburg), Riga, Astrakhan, Nizhni-Novgorod, and other lands
of piety"; and when deputies came to consult him, they prostrated
themselves in his presence, as before the great ones of the earth.
Living thus not only in peace and plenty, but even in honour and luxury,
"the proud Patriarch of the Theodosian Church" could not consistently
fulminate against "the ravenous wolves" with whom he was on friendly
terms, or excite the fanaticism of his followers by highly coloured
descriptions of "the awful sufferings and persecution of God's people
in these latter days," as the founder of the sect had been wont to do.
Though he could not openly abandon any fundamental doctrines, he allowed
the ideas about the reign of Antichrist to fall into the background,
and taught by example, if not by precept, that the Faithful might, by
prudent concessions, live very comfortably in this present evil world.
This seed fell upon soil already prepared for its reception. The
Faithful gradually forgot their old savage fanaticism, and they have
since contrived, while holding many of their old ideas in theory, to
accommodate themselves in practice to the existing order of things.
The gradual softening and toning down of the original fanaticism in
these two sects are strikingly exemplified in their ideas of marriage.
According to Orthodox doctrine, marriage is a sacrament which can
only be performed by a consecrated priest, and consequently for the
Priestless People the celebration of marriage was an impossibility.
In the first ages of sectarianism a state of celibacy was quite in
accordance with their surroundings. Living in constant fear of their
persecutors, and wandering from one place of refuge to another, the
sufferers for the Faith had little time or inclination to think of
family ties, and readily listened to the monks, who exhorted them to
mortify the lusts of the flesh.
The result, however, proved that celibacy in the creed by no means
ensures chastity in practice. Not only in the villages of the
Dissenters, but even in those religious communities which professed
a more ascetic mode of life, a numerous class of "orphans" began to
appear, who knew not who their parents were; and this ignorance of
blood-relationship naturally led to incestuous connections. Besides
this, the doctrine of celibacy had grave practical inconveniences, for
the peasant requires a housewife to attend to domestic concerns and
to help him in his agricultural occupations. Thus the necessity of
re-establishing family life came to be felt, and the feeling soon found
expression in a doctrinal form both among the Pomortsi and among the
Theodsians. Learned dissertations were written and disseminated in
manuscript copies, violent discussions took place, and at last a great
Council was held in Moscow to discuss the question.* The point at issue
was never unanimously decided, but many accepted the ingenious arguments
in favour of matrimony, and contracted marriages which were, of course,
null and void in the eye of the law and of the Church, but valid in all
other respects.
* I cannot here enter into the details of this remarkable
controversy, but I may say that in studying it I have been
frequently astonished by the dialectical power and logical
subtlety displayed by the disputants, some of them simple
peasants.
This new backsliding of the unstable multitude produced a new outburst
of fanaticism among the stubborn few. Some of those who had hitherto
sought to conceal the origin of the "orphan" class above referred to
now boldly asserted that the existence of this class was a religious
necessity, because in order to be saved men must repent, and in order
to repent men must sin! At the same time the old ideas about Antichrist
were revived and preached with fervour by a peasant called Philip, who
founded a new sect called the Philipists. This sect still exists. They
hold fast to the old belief that the Tsar is Antichrist, and that the
civil and ecclesiastical authorities are the servants of Satan--an
idea that was kept alive by the corruption and extortion for which the
Administration was notorious. They do not venture on open resistance
to the authorities, but the bolder members take little pains to conceal
their opinions and sentiments, and may be easily recognised by their
severe aspect, their Puritanical manner, and their Pharisaical horror of
everything which they suppose heretical and unclean. Some of them, it is
said, carry this fastidiousness to such an extent that they throw away
the handle of a door if it has been touched by a heretic!
It may seem that we have here reached the extreme limits of fanaticism,
but in reality there were men whom even the Pharisaical Puritanism of
the Philipists did not satisfy. These new zealots, who appeared in the
time of Catherine II., but first became known to the official world in
the reign of Nicholas I., rebuked the lukewarmness of their brethren,
and founded a new sect in order to preserve intact the asceticism
practised immediately after the schism. This sect still exists. They
call themselves "Christ's people" (Christoviye Lyudi), but are better
known under the popular name of "Wanderers" (Stranniki), or "Fugitives"
(Beguny). Of all the sects they are the most hostile to the existing
political and social organisation. Not content with condemning
the military conscription, the payment of taxes, the acceptance of
passports, and everything connected with the civil and ecclesiastical
authorities, they consider it sinful to live peaceably among an
orthodox--that is, according to their belief, a heretical--population,
and to have dealings with any who do not share their extreme views.
Holding the Antichrist doctrine in the extreme form, they declare that
Tsars are the vessels of Satan, that the Established Church is the
dwelling-place of the Father of Lies, and that all who submit to the
authorities are children of the Devil. According to this creed, those
who wish to escape from the wrath to come must have neither houses nor
fixed places of abode, must sever all ties that bind them to the world,
and must wander about continually from place to place. True Christians
are but strangers and pilgrims in the present life, and whoso binds
himself to the world will perish with the world.
Such is the theory of these Wanderers, but among them, as among the less
fanatical sects, practical necessities have produced concessions and
compromises. As it is impossible to lead a nomadic life in Russian
forests, the Wanderers have been compelled to admit into their ranks
what may be called lay-brethren--men who nominally belong to the sect,
but who live like ordinary mortals and have some rational way of gaining
a livelihood. These latter live in the villages or towns, support
themselves by agriculture or trade, accept passports from the
authorities, pay their taxes regularly, and conduct themselves in
all outward respects like loyal subjects. Their chief religious duty
consists in giving food and shelter to their more zealous brethren, who
have adopted a vagabond life in practise as well as in theory. It is
only when they feel death approaching that they consider it necessary
to separate themselves from the heretical world, and they effect this
by having themselves carried out to some neighbouring wood--or into a
garden if there is no wood at hand--where they may die in the open air.
Thus, we see, there is among the Russian Nonconformist sects what may be
called a gradation of fanaticism, in which is reflected the history of
the Great Schism. In the Wanderers we have the representatives of
those who adopted and preserved the Antichrist doctrine in its extreme
form--the successors of those who fled to the forests to escape from
the rage of the Beast and to await the second coming of Christ. In the
Philipists we have the representatives of those who adopted these ideas
in a somewhat softer form, and who came to recognise the necessity of
having some regular means of subsistence until the last trump should be
heard. The Theodosians represent those who were in theory at one with
the preceding category, but who, having less religious fanaticism,
considered it necessary to yield to force and make peace with the
Government without sacrificing their convictions. In the Pomortsi we see
those who preserved only the religious ideas of the schism, and became
reconciled with the civil power. Lastly we have the Old Ritualists, who
differed from all the other sects in retaining the old ordinances, and
who simply rejected the spiritual authority of the dominant Church.
Besides these chief sections of the Nonconformists there are a great
many minor denominations (tolki), differing from each other on minor
points of doctrine. In certain districts, it is said, nearly every
village has one or two independent sects. This is especially the case
among the Don Cossacks and the Cossacks of the Ural, who are in part
descendants of the men who fled from the early persecutions.
Of all the sects the Old Ritualists stand nearest to the official
Church. They hold the same dogmas, practise the same rites, and
differ only in trifling ceremonial matters, which few people consider
essential. In the hope of inducing them to return to the official
fold the Government created at the beginning of last century special
churches, in which they were allowed to retain their ceremonial
peculiarities on condition of accepting regularly consecrated priests
and submitting to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. As yet the design has not
met with much success. The great majority of the Old Ritualists regard
it as a trap, and assert that the Church in making this concession
has been guilty of self-contradiction. "The Ecclesiastical Council of
Moscow," they say, "anathematised our forefathers for holding to the old
ritual, and declared that the whole course of nature would be changed
sooner than the curse be withdrawn. The course of nature has not been
changed, but the anathema has been cancelled." This argument ought to
have a certain weight with those who believe in the infallibility of
Ecclesiastical Councils.
Towards the Priestless People the Government has always acted in a much
less conciliatory spirit. Its severity has been sometimes justified on
the ground that sectarianism has had a political as well as a religious
significance. A State like Russia cannot overlook the existence of
sects which preach the duty of systematic resistance to the civil and
ecclesiastical authorities and hold doctrines which lead to the grossest
immorality. This argument, it must be admitted, is not without a certain
force, but it seems to me that the policy adopted tended to increase
rather than diminish the evils which it sought to cure. Instead of
dispelling the absurd idea that the Tsar was Antichrist by a system
of strict and evenhanded justice, punishing merely actual crimes and
delinquencies, the Government confirmed the notion in the minds of
thousands by persecuting those who had committed no crime and who
desired merely to worship God according to their conscience. Above all
it erred in opposing and punishing those marriages which, though legally
irregular, were the best possible means of diminishing fanaticism, by
leading back the fanatics to healthy social life. Fortunately these
errors have now been abandoned. A policy of greater clemency and
conciliation has been adopted, and has proved much more efficacious than
persecution. The Dissenters have not returned to the official fold, but
they have lost much of their old fanaticism and exclusiveness.
In respect of numbers the sectarians compose a very formidable body. Of
Old Ritualists and Priestless People there are, it is said, no less
than eleven millions; and the Protestant and fantastical sects comprise
probably about five millions more. If these numbers be correct, the
sectarians constitute about an eighth of the whole population of the
Empire. They count in their ranks none of the nobles--none of the
so-called enlightened class--but they include in their number a
respectable proportion of the peasants, a third of the rich merchant
class, the majority of the Don Cossacks, and nearly all the Cossacks of
the Ural.
Under these circumstances it is important to know how far the sectarians
are politically disaffected. Some people imagine that in the event of
an insurrection or a foreign invasion they might rise against the
Government, whilst others believe that this supposed danger is purely
imaginary. For my own part I agree with the latter opinion, which is
strongly supported by the history of many important events, such as
the French invasion in 1812, the Crimean War, and the last Polish
insurrection. The great majority of the Schismatics and heretics are, I
believe, loyal subjects of the Tsar. The more violent sects, which are
alone capable of active hostility against the authorities, are weak in
numbers, and regard all outsiders with such profound mistrust that they
are wholly impervious to inflammatory influences from without. Even if
all the sects were capable of active hostility, they would not be nearly
so formidable as their numbers seem to indicate, for they are hostile to
each other, and are wholly incapable of combining for a common purpose.
Though sectarianism is thus by no means a serious political danger,
it has nevertheless a considerable political significance. It proves
satisfactorily that the Russian people is by no means so docile and
pliable as is commonly supposed, and that it is capable of showing
a stubborn, passive resistance to authority when it believes great
interests to be at stake. The dogged energy which it has displayed in
asserting for centuries its religious liberty may perhaps some day be
employed in the arena of secular politics.