_BLAGOVESTCHENSK._
Russian orthodox missions.--Particulars of Orthodox Missionary
Society.--Visit to telegraph station.--Seminary for training
priests.--Salaries of Russian clergy.--Blagovestchensk
prison.--Leafy barracks.--View of the town.--Molokan inhabitants.
“Blagovestchensk,”--I hope that the tongue of the reader curls round
the syllables of this word more easily than did mine on the first
occasion I attempted to pronounce it. The _g_ should be guttural,
and the first _e_ like the French _é_. The meaning of the name is
“Annunciation,” or, as some put it, “glad tidings.” I know not whether
this has anything to do with the fact that Blagovestchensk is the
head-quarters of Oriental Siberian missionary effort, about which it
will here be a rest to say a few words by way of change from the waters
of the river.
As Russia ranges under her standards many nations, so she is brought
into contact with many religions; with Lutheranism in the Baltic
provinces and Finland, Buddhism in Mongolia, Mohammedanism along her
southern frontier, Paganism in the Caucasus and Armenia, and, we may
add, Shamanism and other ’_isms_ among the aboriginal inhabitants of
both her European and Asiatic territories. The Russians have long made
persistent efforts to win back their own dissenters, whether from the
various bodies of Raskolniks, or the Uniats, which latter were seduced
from them by the Church of Rome.[1] Besides this reclaiming work of
her own people, foreign missionaries were, in the time of Alexander
I., allowed to work among the heathen within the empire, and I have
already noticed the London mission to the Buriats. The Synod, however,
put a stop to this foreign work; and that their jealousy in this matter
continues, I learnt from a Lutheran pastor, who, when he was taking up
his residence near some of the native tribes, was bidden “not to busy
himself as a missionary.”
Compared with the Western Churches, whether Roman or Reformed, the
Eastern Church has never been remarkable for missionary zeal, and I
was therefore not a little surprised and pleased in Siberia to stumble
unexpectedly upon the latest report (for 1876) of the “Orthodox
Missionary Society,” published at Moscow the year before my visit. The
book is of respectable size, extends to 100 pages, and the statistics
are displayed with considerable fulness. At present it is with the
Russians only the day of small things; but it should be borne in mind
that 1876 was only the seventh year of the Society’s existence.
Some particulars of this young Society will be interesting, the more
so as I am able to supplement what I learned in Siberia by extracts
from the report for 1879, quoted in the _Journal de St. Petersbourg_,
September 7th, 1881. The Society has a central council, and branches in
29 dioceses, with 7,560 members, which means, I suppose, subscribers.
Its capital in 1879 amounted to 660,000 roubles, of which 121,000 were
spent during the year.[2] Among the remittances sent to the central
council from associations is £77 from “the army and navy.” Again,
there appears what I imagine to be a special fund for “propagating the
orthodox faith among the heathen.” This is apart from their efforts
among Mohammedans and Romanists; but the Russian Church has missions to
the adherents of all religions within her empire, except Protestants.
As for the spending of the money, it appears that the council and 27
associations distributed, among 19 missions, funds to the amount of
£11,580. The 21 mission stations are, with one exception, within the
bounds of the empire. The other mission, to which I have alluded in
a previous chapter, is in Japan. I heard at Kasan that they have a
missionary also in Jerusalem, New York, and San Francisco; but these, I
presume, are chaplains. Their chief European pagan missions are in the
governments of Astrakhan, Riazan, Perm, and Kasan, in which last are
several semi-heathen tribes.[3]
It is in Asiatic Russia, however, that most of the Society’s money is
expended, and the conversion of 5,000 Pagans is reported to have taken
place in 1879. They have opened a school among the Samoyedes. They
have also missions in Kamchatka (including probably, the Sea-coast
province), upon which, in 1876, they expended £300, and from whence
the following year, according to the Almanack, they obtained 606
converts. The provinces, however, in which most money is spent are
those of Tomsk, Irkutsk, and the Trans-Baikal. In the latter two are
the Buriats, amongst whom the Russians have 30 mission stations and
68 missionaries.[4] The province of Tomsk includes the region of the
western chain of the Altai mountains, where schools and missions have
been established for the Kirghese of the Steppes. In the Altai mission,
during the first half of the year 1877, they enrolled 195 converts.
Further east they have missionaries, some of whom I met, among the
Goldi and Gilyaks; but I shall speak of them when we come to their
districts. At Blagovestchensk lives the Bishop of the diocese, who had
been described to me as “a good missionary.”
We stopped at Blagovestchensk on Tuesday, August 5th, and I made my
way to the telegraph station, where, as in other towns, thanks to
good introductions, I received much kindness from the officials. When
travelling to Barnaul, I chanced to light on a telegraph officer,
Mr. Friis, whose name was on my list, and he told me of a brother
officer in Tomsk who spoke English. At Irkutsk Mr. Larsen gave
considerable linguistic help; so did Mr. Koch at Stretinsk; and now,
at Blagovestchensk, I found a Mr. Niellsen, who had worked in London,
and spoke English; and Mr. Peko, who spoke French and English too. Mr.
Peko, I found, was the director of this station of first rank.[5] When
dining with the manager, Mr. Peko, and Mr. Niellsen, in the garden, I
was interested to hear, among other scraps of professional information,
that English is the best of languages for telegraphy, for that in it
they can express more in few words than in any other. The Russians,
they said, prefer to use English rather than their own language for
telegrams. My nationality was further flattered in the town by a
doctor’s wife telling me that to speak English was now in Siberia
and Russia more fashionable than to speak French. Said she, “_On peut
oublier maintenant le Français pour apprendre l’Anglais._”
Blagovestchensk has a seminary for the training of priests, similar to
those established in Russia by Peter the Great. He found his clergy
exceedingly ignorant, and established these institutions for their
sons, enjoining the bishops to support them with a twentieth part of
the income from the monasteries. In these establishments, and others
which have been added, are educated the rank and file of the Russian
clergy.[6]
I did not once meet in Russia with a priest who could speak French,
German, or English. Perhaps they throw their strength into patristic
and ecclesiastical learning, since the parochial clergy are usually
said to be not well instructed in secular studies. An instance was
given me by an Englishman, who travelled in Siberia with a Russian
archbishop, who one day asked the Englishman which had the greater
population, London or San Francisco. Whereupon my wicked friend said,
“Well, you see, London has a population of two hundred thousand,
and San Francisco four millions.” “Ah!” said the archbishop with
satisfaction, “I thought so; I thought San Francisco was the larger!”
Those students who wish to attain to the higher degrees of learning, on
leaving the seminary, proceed to one of the ecclesiastical academies
which correspond to our universities, and where they can take the
degrees of student, candidate, master, and doctor of theology. There
is no theological faculty in the Russian universities, but it is now
required that all who are to be consecrated bishops shall have passed
through the academy.
To return, however, to the seminary: the students enter at the age
of eight, and remain normally till twenty-two, when they receive a
diploma, which is accepted by the bishop, and the candidate without
further examination is ordained.
The case of one of these students presented a curious instance of the
working of the inconsistent requirement of the Russian Church, that the
parochial clergy at the time of their ordination _must_ be married. “Do
you see that boy running about on the deck?” said a fellow-passenger
to me, pointing to one of the seminary students. “He is nineteen years
old, and is returning to the seminary for the last time. In the course
of a few months his mother is to find him a wife, and next year he will
return to be married, and then immediately ordained!”[7] This would be
before the canonical age for ordination, but was owing to the lack of
clergy in the Primorsk, in which there are about 50 congregations with
churches or chapels. Between Nikolaefsk and Vladivostock, a distance of
1,300 miles, are only 14 priests and 2 deacons; and so pressing was the
need of clergy a few years since that tradesmen, letter carriers, and
even yemstchiks in some few instances were ordained.
Mr. Peko accompanied me at Blagovestchensk to call upon Mr. Petroff,
the deputy-governor, from whom I learned that there was only one
prison in the province, having 26 rooms. We visited it, but the only
notes I have are “dirty and overcrowded,” and “punishment cells all
full,” some having two men in a place not too large for one. What
made the prison so full I know not, nor am I able to say whether they
were local offenders from the province or exiles temporarily there on
their way eastwards. There were none lounging about in the yard, so I
suppose they had all been gathered for our inspection. The punishment
cells being occupied was not, as far as I know, because the men had
misbehaved, but because they were compelled to use all available space.
Moreover, since the prison authorities seem to look upon solitary
confinement as so great a punishment, it may be that two were put in
some of the cells for the sake of company. I remember that when I spoke
to the president of the Tomsk prison approving the separate as opposed
to the gang system, he thought it was decidedly bad to put a _moujik_,
or simple peasant, in a cell alone; for “having nothing to think
about,” he said, “he might go mad!” This good man informed me, too, in
connection with my self-imposed mission, that the prisoners did not
want so much religion, but liked also books of history, travels, etc.
This I knew, but since three wagonloads did not more than suffice for
the little I attempted, and my means were limited both as to carriage
and in other ways, I was only too thankful to take so many books as
we did, and leave it to other philanthropists to complete the work. I
left 50 New Testaments and 12 wall pictures at Blagovestchensk with
Mr. Petroff for the prison, for the 20 rooms of his two hospitals and
a school in the course of erection, with four rooms for prisoners’
children.
Near the hospital were summer Cossack barracks, put together in the
most primitive fashion. The ordinary barracks needing repair, they
had cut branches of trees and leafy underwood, tied them in fagots,
and stood them up so as to form walls and roof, which gave tolerable
shelter for hot weather, but served as poor protection from wind and
rain. They were intended, however, to last only for a few weeks.
[Illustration: A STAROVERS OR OLD BELIEVERS’ COUNTRY CHURCH.]
From these summer barracks there was a fine view of the river and
town. The houses are situated on a plain 15 feet or 20 feet above
the water. The Government establishments and merchants’ stores are
large and well built, each having plenty of space around it. Some
of them have gardens, and stretching along the bank from the wharf
to the roomy telegraph office is a green sward planted with trees
for a park. Blagovestchensk has a population of only 3,400, but its
long river front and its cross streets give it the appearance of an
important town. Some of the shops were excellent, and well supplied
with merchandise. The town was founded in 1858, and the Amur Company
kept there one of its principal stores. On the winding up of its
affairs, this store was bought by the company’s clerk. Mr. Knox says,
in 1866, that the Russian officers complained of the combinations among
the merchants to maintain prices at an exorbitant scale. I heard,
too, that this is still done. If, for instance, in the middle of the
winter a merchant discovers that his brother tradesmen have sold all
their sugar or any other article, and that his stock is all the town
possesses, then, knowing that no more can arrive till the ice goes and
the navigation opens, he can demand higher prices for goods of which he
has a monopoly. Candles were quoted to me as costing usually 11_d._ or
1_s._ per lb., but as rising sometimes to 2_s._ 6_d._ Cheese costs from
2_s._ to 2_s._ 6_d._ per lb., but I suppose that these articles must
be of European or American manufacture. Chickens at Blagovestchensk
vary from 6_d._ to 2_s._ each, veal from 4_d._ to 5_d._, and beef from
2½_d._ to 4_d._ per lb. Milk costs 2_d._ per pint in summer, and 4_d._
in winter; live geese, bought from the Manchu, cost from 2_s._ 6_d._ to
4_s._; but in winter, from the Molokans, 5_s._ In connection with these
prices should be quoted the cost of land, which may be purchased from
the Government for 2_s._ an acre.
I was told that the town is full of dissenters. I did not hear of any
Starovers or Old Believers, nor observe on any church the _three_
transverse beams of their form of the cross; but there were many
Molokans,--colonists, I suppose, or descendants of exiles. Their
presence, doubtless, accounts for a good deal of the prosperity of the
town, for they are “honest, sober, and industrious.”
The _Molokans_ are so called because they drink milk on the usual
fasting days. Their origin is involved in obscurity, and by some is
dated back to the middle of the last century. Early in the present
century many were living in the south of Russia. An English gentleman,
residing at Berdiansk in 1848, visited their villages, and from his
wife I learn that Salamatin, the Molokan chief, and his family were
pious, but very simple, uneducated people. My friend used sometimes
to invite them to her table. She tells me that their enlightenment
came, to all appearance, simply from reading the Bible. They found
there the worship of images forbidden, and accordingly declined to
bow down before them, on which account some were persecuted, even
to bodily pain, but to no purpose; they would not give way. Blunt’s
“Dictionary of Sects” says that a Baron Haxthausen, in 1843, visited
a colony of 3,000 Molokans in the Crimea, and found that they denied
the necessity of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. With Blunt’s statement
partly agrees what my friend told me, namely, that some important
official came to visit the Molokans in her neighbourhood (not, however,
in the Crimea, but in the government of Ekaterinoslav, which was then
their habitation, their villages being situated on the banks of the
Moloshna), and found so little objectionable among them, and so much
that was good, that the official gave them an excellent character,
and they were afterwards left unmolested. Also their alleged disuse
of baptism and the Lord’s Supper seems to agree with what I heard of
them from a fellow-traveller, who lodged in the house of a Molokan; for
he told me that on Sundays they hold meetings, read the Scriptures,
pray, sing, expound the Bible, and ask questions, but he thought
they did not baptize nor receive the Lord’s Supper. But I remember my
lady friend telling me that when the Molokans separated from, or were
turned out of, the Russian Church, they had no priests nor any person
of education to guide them, nor have they priests now, but only elders;
hence, if they are without sacraments, I am not clear whether it is
from choice or necessity.[8] My fellow-passenger spoke in high terms
of the Molokans of Blagovestchensk. He said he never saw any of them
intoxicated, or even enter a tavern; that he rarely or never saw them
out of temper, or heard them use bad language; and that they spent
their spare time in reading the Scriptures.
But this does not save them from annoyance. Their manner of living at
Blagovestchensk has enabled many of the Molokans to become rich, so
that they can hire servants. An old Russian law, however, forbids a
Molokan to employ an orthodox Russian. The Russians, notwithstanding,
like to serve the Molokans, because they are good masters, and pay
well. Hence the law has become practically obsolete; but the summer
before my visit, the police-master (a man of anything but exemplary
moral character), having a grudge against a principal Molokan, and,
Haman-like, thinking scorn to lay hands on one only, began doing his
best to annoy the whole of them in the town. How the matter ended I did
not hear.
I saw, before I left Siberia, an official confirmation of the good
opinion I was led to form of the Molokans. The governor of a province
wrote officially to Petersburg thus: “We have 105 Molokans, most of
them living in the South Ussuri district. They are living quietly,
and are very laborious, and amenable to authority. They are civil in
their bearing towards the members of the orthodox Church, and are not
fanatical.” Looking, therefore, at this triple testimony, and comparing
the lives of the Molokans with the lives of the orthodox, I felt that
to bring the orthodox into contact with the Molokans would be likely
to improve the orthodox rather than otherwise, and that the Tsar would
have more good subjects than he now has if he had more Molokans.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The number of dissenters is duly tabulated in the official reports
sent to the Emperor. Thus, in one of them I was permitted to see was
written, “No case has occurred during the year of dissenters being
reclaimed, but we have in the province, as last year, 140 of both sexes
of Bezpopoftschins, and 105 Molokans.”
[2] The amount collected in boxes at church doors in 1876 was
30,100 roubles 37½ kopecks, and from other sources 111,598 roubles
28¼ kopecks, making a total of 141,698 roubles 65¾ kopecks--say
£17,712 (reckoning the rouble _in this chapter_ at half-a-crown, its
approximate value at the date of the report), besides £1,537 paid to
the council by local committees. A comparison is drawn between 1876 and
the previous six years, and shows an advance over 1875 of 890 members
and £500. The Society has six associations in Siberia, of which Irkutsk
has the largest number of members--490, and raises the largest amount
of money--£3,470. There is also a list of “special donations” in 1876,
which were invested; one donation of 40 roubles, or £5; two of 50
roubles; one of 60; six of 100; one of 200; and one, the largest, of
300 roubles, or £37.
[3] The results obtained by the Society in 1879 in the region of the
Volga, inhabited chiefly by Mohammedans, are much less than in Asia,
the opposition being so great that for the present the missionaries
can only prepare the way. To this end, schools might become a powerful
auxiliary. Some tribes, such as the Tcheremisses and the Votyaks, for
example, show an inclination for instruction; but the want of funds
prevents the extension of the Russian school system to the Mohammedan
villages. The same is seen with the Kalmuks of Astrakhan, who would
welcome schools, and gladly abandon their nomad and heathen congeners
to settle upon lands assigned to them. At Noire-Cherinsk, 12 families
began the construction of houses, but for lack of money failed to
complete them, and asked the Government for an advance of £3 for each
family. At Oulane-Ergansk, certain families have come to settle, and
already are giving themselves to agriculture.
[4] One of their triumphs in 1879 was the conversion of the learned
lama, Taptchine-Nagbou-Mangolaiew, who was first impressed by the
Russian Church services he attended from the preceding year at Chita
and Verchne Udinsk, where, after the manner of the missionaries, the
service and singing is, I believe, in the vernacular. This man was
baptized in the waters of the Baikal, from which he takes his present
name of Vladimir Baikalsky. He understands seven languages--Manchu,
Chinese, Mongolian, Thibetan, Sanscrit, Latin, and Russ, and has
accepted the post of Professor of Mongolian in one of the missionary
colleges.
[5] The Government authorized, so far back as 1861, the construction
of a telegraphic line from Nikolaefsk, up the Amur, to Khabarofka,
which was to continue thence to the southernmost point of the Russian
territories on the Sea of Japan. The telegraph line from Kasan to Omsk
was to be opened in the same year; from Omsk to Irkutsk in 1862, and
thence undertaken in 1863 to Kiakhta and Khabarofka, the Amur Company
agreeing to do the work and the Minister of Marine to provide the
funds, the Government guaranteeing 5 per cent. on the outlay. The rates
for telegrams in Russia and Siberia are:--
Within a radius of 66 miles, 1 shilling for 20 words.
” ” 660 ” 2 shillings ” ”
” ” 1,000 ” 4 ” ” ”
Beyond ” ” ” 6 ” ” ”
[6] Upon my return journey on the Amur, I met on the boat some of the
students going back to Blagovestchensk after their holidays, and from
them and their teacher I got the following information respecting their
place of education. Priests’ sons are provided with education, food,
and clothing free; other scholars pay for food and clothing. They are
at the seminary ten months and a half during the year, and have the
remaining six weeks for holidays. They have six classes, and stay two
years in each, with four lectures daily, and read from eight till two.
At the seminary at Blagovestchensk, in 1878, there were 50 students
and nine professors, namely, of Latin, mathematics, Greek (no Hebrew),
theology, philosophy, the Bible, Russ, Manchu, physics, music, etc.
The students, I was told, on leaving, usually know a little Latin and
Greek, and may learn modern languages; but this last, in Russia, is not
compulsory.
[7] I have called this requirement of the Russian Church inconsistent
because they interpret St. Paul’s words, that a deacon should be the
husband of one wife, so literally as not to ordain a bachelor as
parish clergyman; and yet, though St. Paul gives the same injunction
concerning a bishop, they will not consecrate a priest to the
episcopate so long as he is married.
[8] The Molokans of Ekaterinoslav were not indifferent to the
sacraments, for Salamatin, their then chief, was wont to baptize by
immersion; and as for the Lord’s Supper, they celebrated it sitting
round a table, each communicant receiving a piece of bread broken from
one loaf, and the cup was afterwards passed round to each member.