GORELOVKA AND QUEEN LUKERIA
Discussing the projects of our future travel, I was reminded by
Colonel Tarasoff that we must not fail to make a stay in one of the
villages of Russian peasants which were situated upon the route of our
journey south. The Governor had so often sung the praises of these
villagers that we were all anxious to comply with his advice. If
only this fertile country could be inhabited by such a peasantry;
what crops it would bear, what riches it would produce! He added:
"Be sure to visit Gorelovka; there you will see what Russian colonists
can bring to pass."
Russian colonists! But, of course, Russia is not yet in a position
to colonise, however much these distant provinces of her Asiatic
empire may be in need of new methods, of new blood. Indeed, the
rulers of Russia early recognised the expediency of introducing
into their lawless possessions beyond Caucasus a leaven of orderly
and strenuous elements from the West; and in the dearth at home
of such material, which might be available for the purpose, they
invited or encouraged settlements from abroad. It is possible that
they were shown the way by the finger of Providence; it is at least
certain that, when once the favourable opportunity arose, they did
not suffer it to pass them by. In the earlier years of the present
century the kingdom of Würtemberg was the scene of a struggle among
the Protestant community, of which the origin was no less curious
than the results were strange. It had been solemnly announced by
several popular pastors that the second coming of Christ was near
at hand. Such was the confidence of the reverend teachers in their
prophetical powers, that they had already fixed the date when the
sun and moon should be darkened, the celestial bodies should reel,
the ocean roar, and men expire from fright before the crowning event
had been accomplished--the Son of Man appearing with glory in the
clouds. These signs and stupendous portents should be revealed to a
distracted world in 1836.
Greater credence was attached by the people to these terrible
predictions by reason of what was passing in their little world. Their
clergy were divided on a religious question well calculated to touch
to the quick the popular mind. The predominant party succeeded in
effecting an alteration in the prayers and hymns of their beloved
Church. Passions became inflamed which appeared to herald persecution,
which rallied the faithful in defence of the old forms. Were not the
days of tribulation already upon them; and in what asylum among the
mountains should these Christians of a larger Judæa find the refuge
which had been promised by the word of Christ? The same teachers
assured them that such an asylum would not be wanting, and might be
found in the neighbourhood of the Caspian Sea. The fearful nature of
the Divine warning, the conviction that it would be early realised,
the aversion which the new-fangled forms of worship inspired in many
earnest souls--all contributed to steel the old Protestant courage;
to induce a large body of human beings to leave home and native
land behind them, and, without superfluous forethought, to embark on
the perilous journey to that distant land where they might await in
peace and spiritual contentment the glorious coming of the Redeemer
of the human race. Their ranks were swelled--such is the irony of our
complex society--by many who were in search of change and adventure;
they left Würtemberg 1500 families strong. Two-thirds of these are
said to have perished before reaching Odessa, where the remnant was
reinforced by a further body of their countrymen, to the number of
100 families. In the Emperor Alexander I. they found a friend who
extended to them extensive privileges upon their arrival in Georgia
in 1817. They were settled in several colonies in the Governments of
Tiflis and Elizabetpol, which have endured to the present day. They
have been tried by afflictions and internal dissensions; some have
perished by wild beasts, some were carried into captivity during the
course of the Persian war. Still their numbers have increased, their
standards of life have been maintained, and the traveller rests with
pleasure within their villages. But neither the paramount object of
their migration nor the wider purpose of Alexander has been fulfilled
up to the present time. The jealousy of the Russian Church-State has
deprived them of much of their potential usefulness; and mankind are
still groping beneath dark clouds of error, faintly silvered with
the precious promise of perfect light. [47]
The fate or fortune of these German settlements was recalled to me
at Akhalkalaki not only by the mention of the Russian colonial
experiment, but also through our intercourse with a forlorn
individual, whose history linked him with the early history of that
courageous company. What use to conceal his name, since I cannot
hide his identity, since I am only dealing with the current facts of
provincial life? It was the mission of Sembat Baghdasareantz to sow
abroad the seeds of the Gospel, carrying his liberty and even his
life in his hand. An Armenian by birth, he had pursued his studies
in Europe, where he had resided among the Methodists of Frankfurt,
although not a member of that persuasion himself. A Protestant, he
disclaimed allegiance to any particular denomination; he belonged
to the society of Evangelical preachers which had been founded some
seventy years ago in Shusha, the capital of the province of Karabagh,
by missionaries from Basle. Zaremba is the name of the teacher whom
his successors most closely associate with the origin and early
struggles of their brotherhood; his memory is joined with that of
his colleague Dittrich, who shared his labours from the first. These
missionaries represented a Society whose devout zeal had been directed
to the Mohammedans of distant Persia; prudence dictated the choice of
a base within the territory of Russia; yet the Russian Church was a
formidable enemy on Russian soil. She claimed the right of baptizing
and holding within her own communion all converts to the Christian
faith. But an exception had been made in favour of those communities of
heterodox Christians which were tolerated by the Russian State; it was
permissible for a Mohammedan to become converted to their tenets and
to be enrolled as a member of their sect. The Society of Basle were
therefore encouraged to attempt the expedient of a protected colony,
which should receive a special charter from the Russian Government
and be invested with the character of a tolerated sect. An example
of such a colony was already before them; their Scotch brethren were
engaged in preaching to the mountaineers of Caucasus from an adopted
home at Karass. In the pursuit of this purpose, Zaremba and Dittrich
were sent to St. Petersburg in 1821. They were received by the same
Alexander who had favoured the Germans, and in a spirit which partook
of their own zeal. Liberal provisions were attached to the charter of
their prospective colony, among which the right of baptizing converts
was included. They were further authorised to establish a printing
press, to found elementary schools, and to organise a seminary in
which the higher learning should be dispensed. In the meanwhile they
were invited to travel in Transcaucasia with the view of selecting
a locality for their future home.
When the missionaries arrived in Georgia in the spring of 1823, their
interest was aroused by the condition of the German colonists--their
co-religionists, almost their countrymen, settled in this remote
country without spiritual direction, without the elements of
ecclesiastical order. Could there exist a prior claim upon their
own activities than was furnished by the spectacle of this flock
without shepherds, severed from the homestead and wandering where it
might? Their first summer was devoted to the charge of these brethren,
among whom the slow blight of purely worldly preoccupations had already
sapped the vigour of early zeal. The success of their efforts appears
to have awakened the Lutheran Consistory of St. Petersburg, to whom the
spiritual interests of their co-religionists in Russia are entrusted
by Russian law. The Consistory sent a pastor, duly commissioned; and
the colonists were resigned into his hands. But the hardy Germans had
not quarrelled with ecclesiastical authority in their native country
in order to subject themselves to similar tyranny in their new seats;
they disclaimed any connection with the Consistory, and refused to
accept its nominee. The dispute was referred to Alexander, and was by
him decided with his usual good sense. He consented that the Society
of Basle should supply them with pastors, and he went so far as to
endow their churches himself.
When the missionaries next turned their attention to the pursuit
of their original purpose, they were confronted by difficulties
of a different kind. To their surprise they were informed by the
Governor-General of Transcaucasia that the Government possessed no
land on the Persian frontier which could be spared for the settlement
they had in view. The Mission itself would be allotted a building
in any town which they might select; and, although the privilege of
receiving converts would not be legally attachable, the Governor
himself would exert his influence to protect them in its exercise
should their efforts be blessed with fruit. Shusha was their choice for
the establishment of their Mission; schools were opened and a printing
press set up. But in the countries west of India the conversion of
Mohammedans has at all times been an arduous and ungrateful task. Our
own missionaries, established in Persia, are roused to extreme
enthusiasm should a stray Moslem embrace their faith. I remember
travelling across Persia with one of these pampered individuals, who
appeared to me to be admirably equipped for early perdition among
the surroundings in which his walk in life lay. The experiment was
boldly made by the missionaries of Shusha, although the conquests
of Russia, a few years after their installation, provided them with
an ample field for conducting their operations without crossing into
Persian soil. Zaremba followed in the track of the armies of Paskevich,
distributing the Scriptures, duly translated into Turkish, and arguing
the eternal truth of Christianity and the errors of Islam. But his
books were torn in pieces by a population among whom contempt for
Christians is engendered through their mother's milk; and I do not
know that the bread which he cast upon the waters has been found up to
the present day. Better results might be expected from their labours
among the Armenians, whose clergy they discovered sunk in the depths
of ignorance, where the beginning of the twentieth century finds them
still. But they had not anticipated the existence of this sphere for
their activities; and in the absence of special powers it was not
permissible to them to receive converts from a Christian Church. It
was open to the proselyte to enter the Orthodox Church of Russia;
but, if he desired to be baptized by a minister of the tolerated
sects, his own clergy could claim him back. It was inevitable that,
with the progress of their schools and religious teaching, such a
case should soon arise. It is, no doubt, the lofty virtue and the
traditional practice of the Armenian Church to respect the religious
tenets of other Christian Churches, and to inculcate a large tolerance
among their congregation of the doctrines held by their brothers of a
varying creed. In this respect the reverend traveller, to whose work
I am indebted for this little history, might have learnt but failed
to learn a valuable lesson from a clergy whose general standards he
justly condemns. [48] But the attitude of these militant missionaries,
no less than the success of their efforts, touched the vanity of the
Armenian hierarchy to the quick. Two deacons of their persuasion had
become allied to the Swiss teachers, without formally renouncing their
own Church. They were accused of influencing the people against their
old religious practices, and, according to a time-honoured usage,
it was ordered by the katholikos that they should be bound and sent
to Edgmiatsin. The missionaries appealed to the Governor-General,
who, in the spirit of a Roman proconsul, inquired for what reason
they were interfering in the concerns of the Armenian Church. Let the
Germans remain Germans and the Armenians remain Armenians--a ruling
which was modified by the Imperial Government, to whom this high
functionary referred the case. It was decided, much to the dismay
of the religious communities, that if a man were determined to leave
the bosom of the Armenian Church, it was not permitted to the clergy
to retain him by force. But this favourable disposition on the part
of the central Government was in advance of Russian methods. The
victory of the missionaries was not of long duration; the multitude
of their enemies overbore the power of their few friends. Their
printing press is long since silent; they have no successors,
except a few Armenian preachers, faithful to the old traditions,
of whom our friend at Akhalkalaki was one. He himself was confined
by Government within the limits of this remote fortress; two years
he had already passed in this manner of imprisonment; for three more
years he was sentenced to remain. He earned his own subsistence as
clerk and assistant in the large draper's shop. In Shusha itself,
if I may trust the official statistics, the members of the Armenian
Protestant community did not exceed twenty-six souls in 1886. [49]
Russian policy of the present day abhors missionary effort; it has
been justly remarked by a recent clerical traveller that if a priest
wishes to travel in the Russian provinces he must divest himself of
his clerical character and clerical garb. [50] I myself can testify
to the extreme difficulty with which the Protestant missionaries in
Turkey obtain permission to cross Russian soil. Such is the jealousy of
that Orthodox Church, the object of British episcopal blandishments,
to whose mercies it is announced that the Archbishop of Canterbury is
about to transfer his long-cherished pupils, the Chaldæan or Assyrian
Christians of Kurdistan. [51]
To Sembat the Russian colonists were an object of peculiar interest,
not indeed in the same capacity in which they appealed to the Governor,
but by reason of the kind of religion which they professed. Here was
a people who, like himself, were exiles for the sake of religion,
who resembled, in their aversion to the trammels of ecclesiasticism,
the congregations in whose bosom he had himself been reared. The
history of the Dukhobortsy or Dukhoborians--I became familiar with
the latter termination, and such is the name of the sect to which
these settlers belong--composes a chapter which is neither the least
remarkable nor the most creditable in the history of the Russian
Church-State. Their origin would appear to be wrapt in some mystery;
according to one account a discharged soldier first disseminated the
teaching in the Government of Kharkov and in the year 1740. [52] Count
Tolstoy adopts the view, which would appear the more probable, that it
was a foreigner, a Quaker, immigrant to Russia, who spread the seeds
of their belief. [53] Neither their opinions, nor the temper which
was the outcome of their convictions, were calculated to promote
the smoothness of their early course. In a country where Church
interests permeate every act of policy, they denied the necessity,
even the expediency of a Church. Among a people attached with devotion
to their temples, images and eikons, they professed the uselessness of
all such external aids to religious life. The crusty formulas cracked
under their merciless logic; and the grim earnestness with which
these spiritual combatants grappled with themselves and with society
wore out the patience or aroused the apathy of the State. Already in
the eighteenth century they suffered persecution; and so bitter grew
the feeling against them, that in the early years of the nineteenth
century the Emperor Alexander I. settled them in the Tauric province,
in the neighbourhood of the Sea of Azov. But Alexander was not the man
to become the instrument of their enemies, whose hostile instances
provoked an Imperial rebuke. It had been proposed that a further
migration of the sect should be required; the ukase of 1816 enacted
that no such migration should take place. The same edict recited the
favourable testimony to their character which had been received from
the official in whose district they lived, dwelt on the proved futility
of the measures previously taken against them, and proclaimed that,
far from meditating the repetition of any such measures, it was the
Imperial will that every unnecessary restriction should be removed
and that all annoyance of the sectaries should cease. The humane,
the wise policy of this enlightened ruler has not been followed by
his successors on the throne. Nicholas the First expelled them to the
Transcaucasian provinces, and they are being persecuted at the present
day. The principal emigrations took place between 1841 and 1845. They
were allotted seats in the bleak country on the south of Akhalkalaki,
whence they have spread into the Government of Elizabetpol and into
the more recently acquired province of Kars. According to the census
of 1886 their numbers in their adopted country amounted to 12,500
souls at that date. [54]
In the eyes of a philosopher the Dukhobortsy may appear to practise
pure religion, and to observe the spirit of the teaching of Christ. Yet
in the view of the majority of Christians their doctrines would be
deemed heretical and their religious usages would be condemned. Such
an attitude is the fruitful parent of misrepresentation and calumny;
and the account of them which we received from our itinerant
preacher was not untinctured by these defects. In justice to him
one must remember that his own services would be repudiated by these
fellow-offenders with him against the majesty of the Orthodox Church;
that neither a Zaremba nor an Eli Smith would be welcomed by these
simple peasants and solicited to direct and elevate their spiritual
life. The imagination of the Oriental may have been coloured by the
prejudice of the Christian teacher; yet I cannot doubt that the tales
which he told us about them were widely current in the gossip of the
countryside. According to Sembat, considerable mystery surrounded
the religion of these peasants, which he himself had not sufficient
knowledge to dispel. Pagan practices were freely imputed to them; and
they were said to worship images of birds and beasts. Whether they
worshipped them, or only regarded them as symbols, it was at least
certain that they were in the habit of making such images, and we could
judge for ourselves what purpose they served. And then he related to
us a portion of the story of Lukeria--half-goddess and half-queen.
September 5.--In the East mankind is usually a monotonous animal,
which you would scarcely notice, such is the majesty of his natural
surroundings, were it not for the needs which you share in common
with him, and which he most indifferently supplies. It was therefore
with expectations of no ordinary character that we set out from
Akhalkalaki to visit the Russian colonies on the southern margin of
the great plain. The direct distance between the town and Gorelovka,
the principal settlement, is seventeen miles. The road, although it
constitutes the avenue of communication with Alexandropol, is little
better than a track. In places the carriage is jolted in a merciless
manner by protruding boulders, embedded in the soil. We started at
half-past two, on a course a little east of south; the vastness of
the expanse and the billowing surface of the naked soil suggested the
appearance of the sea. But the horizon was outlined by the forms of
lofty ranges, encircling the floor of the plain. Banks of white and
grey cloud were suspended about their summits, while the zenith was
blue and the air crisp, yet full of sun.
At three o'clock we gained the margin of the Toporovan river, a
flash of water slowly flowing over the surface of the plain. On the
further bank a small Armenian village; a little Tartar settlement on
this shore. We paused awhile, that we might realise the features of
the landscape, the same we had commanded from the summit of Abul. On
our left hand we were skirting some stony hummocks, which flank the
mass of Abul. That broad-based mountain rose beyond them, closing
the landscape in the east. On our point of course, some eight miles
distant, a range of gentle vaulting stretched from east by south to
west by north. It may be identified with the outer framework of the
mountains which encircle Lake Chaldir. In the south-west we discerned
a break in the ranges, the distant passage of the Kur. On our right
the level plain; and beyond it, at a long interval, the lofty ridges
which border the Kur on the left bank. Behind us, from a second cleft
or opening in the mountains, a long serrated ridge, which belongs to
the northern border ranges, and which formed a striking feature in
the prospect from Abul. This chain and that in the west appeared to
be the highest, except for the nearer outline of Abul.
In another half-hour we had passed the track which leads to Manzara,
and were crossing the richest portion of the plain. The deepness
of the furrows in the black earth argued careful cultivation; the
crops had already been gathered in. We were now pursuing a rather
more easterly direction, and could see a gap in the outlines on our
point of course. The hummocks still followed us, at an interval of
a couple of miles, and, beyond them, the meridional range to which
Abul belongs. But, on our right hand, we now lost the open prospects;
low, rocky hills advanced from the region of Lake Chaldir. It seemed a
neck of the plain; for, further south, the view again opens, and the
plain expands anew, in the form of a gulf-like extension, towards the
water-parting between the Araxes and the Kur. It was evident that we
were reaching considerably higher levels, for the crops were still
standing, although ripe. The reapers were busy, gaily clad Armenians,
the women helping in the work. In the distance, at the base of the
eastern mountains, we saw a village, which was inhabited by Armenian
Catholics. The cereals consisted of oats, from which they make bread,
and a species of bearded wheat. At half-past four we arrived at the
first considerable village, which, indeed, proved to consist of two
villages, both of which adjoin the road. The first is called Khojabek,
and is inhabited by Armenians; it contains fifty houses, and possesses
a church but no school. The second, Bogdanovka, is a Russian settlement
with eighty houses, the first of those settlements which we were so
anxious to see. [55] At this double village we crossed a stream which
was said to issue from Lake Chonchal, and which bears the same name
as the lake.
Bogdanovka is not a favourable specimen of its species. I did not
notice any appreciable contrast between the Russian and the Armenian
village; it is indeed possible that they may have mutually affected
one another, not to the advantage of the Russian settlement--in
both cases rambling, stone-built tenements, and flat roofs, topped
with turf. Dirty little lanes, of uneven surface, debouch upon the
principal street. But the gait, the physiognomy of the two races--what
a remarkable contrast in this respect! Large, lustrous, coal-black
eyes: little, colourless pupils; shapely features, animate with
expression: formless protuberances from a massive, heavy skull. The
ugliness of the women especially appalled us, and we were impressed
with the deliberate slouch of the men's walk.
We had come a distance of 18 versts (12 miles). After changing horses,
we gained some rising ground on the further side. From here we could
see Lake Chonchal, with a village at the foot of the rising ground
on its opposite shore. In half an hour we were at the tiny lake and
village of Orlovka--a ragged-looking place, of which a striking feature
was the stacks of tezek or dried manure. This was the second Russian
village; we were disappointed. Gorelovka, the goal of our journey,
was to come next.
The range on our left still continued; but on our right the hills had
receded, and were replaced by gently rising ground. Patches of arable
land mounted the slopes about us, suggesting that the rising tide
of reclamation was flowing into these remote solitudes. We noticed
that the soil had become more turf-like and fibrous in character;
we thought it well adapted to potato culture, but not a field of
potatoes could we see. These uplands provide good pasture during
summer and sweet hay for the long winter months. It was a landscape
of open downs at a great elevation; we had reached a height of some
7000 feet. Such are the bleak surroundings of Gorelovka. We were
chilled to the bones when we arrived at half-past six.
The impression which we had received at the two smaller villages was
quickly dispelled by our new surroundings. Great was our pleasure
when we recognised that the high opinion of Colonel Tarasoff was amply
justified by those to whom it applied. It is true that these sectaries
are the flower of the peasantry in Russia; but that peasantry is none
the less honoured by what they have achieved.
Gorelovka is the largest village in the district; it contains 150
houses and a population of some 1500 souls. The inhabitants said
it was fifty-two years since they came hither from Russia, and
were allotted lands. Each house pays fifteen roubles (about thirty
shillings) annually to the State for the rent of their lands. Snow
lies on the ground for about eight months in the year, and, like the
Armenians, they heat their houses with tezek fuel, or cakes of dried
manure. I admired their ploughs and spacious waggons; they are their
own handiwork. You do not see such ploughs and waggons among their
neighbours--Armenians, Tartars and Turks. On the other hand, they
have not improved upon the usual threshing implements--the flat beams
encrusted with sharp stones. They said they had found this method in
use in the country, and that it satisfied their needs. Their markets
are Alexandropol and Akhalkalaki. Cereals struggle for existence at
this altitude; yet the patches of plough and stubble, spread upon the
hillsides, climb higher every year. [56] It is pleasant to watch the
waggons, loaded with hay, winding homewards over the springy turf.
A Dukhobortsy village is not built into the earth, like the burrows
of the Armenians and the Kurds. The Russians cheat the climate
by the additional thickness which they put into their solid stone
walls. Their dwellings are low, one-storeyed houses; the masonry is
covered over with plaster, which receives several coats of whitewash. A
long street traverses the village--straight, broad and well maintained;
the houses are aligned upon it at intervals. The roofs are almost flat,
and consist of stout beams, supporting a superstructure of earth and
sods of turf. The chimneys are mere apertures in the roof, protected
by little wooden hoods. We found the interiors clean and comfortable;
the wooden ceilings are neatly mitred, and the walls are distempered
white. The deep embrasures of the windows testify to the thickness
of the walls. In some of the Russian settlements, through which we
passed later, the people had adorned their homes with gay shutters
and combings of fretwork design; in Gorelovka no work of fancy adorns
the dwellings of the peasants, and they have lavished all their skill
in wood-carving upon the residence of their queen.
The inhabitants are tall and powerfully built, and, although they are
bronzed in complexion almost beyond recognition, the fair hair bears
witness to their northern origin. Their limbs are loosely put together,
so that, apart from the difference of their dress and demeanour,
they present a strong contrast to the neatly-made natives of the
country, by reason of their lofty stature and the unbuckled slouch
of their walk. The features are irregular, the eyes small, and the
countenance is wanting in animation, in the case of both women and
men. The dress of the men consists of dark blue trousers and jacket
and a peaked military cap; this costume gives them the appearance of
old soldiers, and all seem to shave the beard. The women wear very
clean cotton dresses of showy patterns and bright hues.
Next morning, according to arrangement, we were to visit, in company
with our host, Alexei Zupkoff, the venerable starshina, or head of
the village, the residence and garden of the queen. The brother of
the queen joined our party--Michael Vasilievich Ghubanoff, the same of
whom Count Tolstoy speaks. We passed down the long, straight street of
the village, the spacious intervals between the white houses opening
to the breezy downs. Entering an enclosure, we found ourselves in a
delightful flower-garden, among trees and thick rose-bushes, allowed
to spread in freedom, and only saved from rankness and riot by the
loving hand of man. How strange, after our wanderings among peoples
whose material standards hover on the extreme margin where life is
just possible and no more, appeared to us the sight of these garden
flowers and the scent of the double rose. A low one-storeyed building
faces the garden on two sides; the one wing contains the chapel and
reception room, the other the private apartments in which the queen
used to live. Passing within the doorway, we stood in a little hall
from which rooms opened, one on either side. Both apartments are
spacious, and their size was enhanced by the complete absence of
furniture. Large stone stoves are built into the rooms, and form
the most prominent feature in them; these stoves are usual in all
the houses, but in this house they are decorated with a scroll of
stone carving, which is not the case elsewhere. The ceilings are low,
and the walls are so thick that the windows have the appearance of
fortress embrasures, with their deep cavernous sills. The two large
rooms on either side of the hall were formerly devoted, the one
to prayer meetings and the other to social gatherings; but it was
evident that they were not in use at the time of my visit, and I was
told that assemblies in this house had been interdicted by Government,
on account of the fresh outbreak of fanaticism which was apprehended
should the people come together beneath the roof of their former queen.
The general arrangement and appearance of the chapel or apartment
in which they used to meet for prayer is this--the low ceiling is
composed of narrow pine planks, the surface being relieved by delicate
wood beadings along the seams where plank meets plank. The large pier
of the stove projects boldly into it from the side of the door. The
walls of such rooms are in general covered with a neat paper of common
Russian pattern, and the floors are either painted a reddish colour,
or the boards are left natural, and stopped, and scrubbed daily, like
the deck of a yacht. Round this particular apartment there runs a low
bench; this is the only sitting-place. Large pots of flowers, carefully
pruned and tended, bloomed in the deep embrasures of the windows,
and broke the light, diffused about the sober apartment in a warm and
regular glow. In that part of the building where the queen used to
live, the rooms, although smaller, presented a similar appearance;
they were maintained in the same state of scrupulous cleanliness as
though she inhabited them still. The furniture had all been removed
from them; but, in addition to the pots of beautiful flowers, there
was in each a dish of Easter eggs.
In the centre of the garden among the rose-bushes stands the summer
pavilion of the queen (Fig. 21). The kernel of the structure may
be described as consisting of two square boxes, placed one above
the other, and serving as living rooms. Each side of the upper room
is broken by a large window; so that the view from within embraces
the whole settlement and all the landscape around. The lower room
contains a bed and a row of pegs, on which, behind a light covering,
hang the dresses of the queen; that above is bare of all furniture,
and was always used as a sitting-room. A broad wooden balcony with
staircase runs round this inner kernel, supported on pillars of
wood. They have lavished all their skill upon the decoration of
this balcony, enriching it with delicate fretwork traceries and with
figures placed at the angles of the roof. At each corner sits a dove
with wings outspread, while on the summit of the roof a dove is just
alighting, the wings just closing, the legs outstretched. In front
of the pavilion, on the side of the house, there is a large standard
lantern, a work of curious design and fancy, surmounted by an image
of St. George and the dragon, carved with much life and vigour in wood.
By my side stood the man who had made these images, and I asked him
whether they had any religious meaning, peculiar to their creed. I was
loath to put the question, so obvious was their purpose, so universal
the symbolism they implied. He answered good-humouredly that they
were pure ornaments, and that he was flattered by my appreciation of
his skill.
In a room, removed from the part of the village in which the queen
lived, they showed us her furniture and effects, her personal
ornaments, and every detail of her attire. Everything that belonged
to her had been carefully kept and cherished, like the relics of
a saint. Her possessions had been those of a simple peasant woman,
verging on the middle class--a velvet chair or two, some statuettes in
plaster, a few chromo-lithographs. Many trays of coloured Easter eggs
were here collected--the offerings, I suppose, of many happy Easters,
when she had led their congregations of prayer.
Seven years had elapsed, at the time of our visit, since they had lost
their beloved Lukeria Vasilievna, their leader both in spiritual and
in temporal matters; they honoured and obeyed her like a queen. [57]
Her influence was supreme among the settlers on these highlands; and it
appears to have extended to all the colonists in Transcaucasia of the
Dukhobortsy sect. The traveller Radde, who visited Gorelovka in 1875,
was privileged to meet her in her home. He describes her as a widow
in the thirties, strong, tall, of full but still shapely forms. Her
features wore the imprint of beauty. He testifies to the veneration
in which she was held. That Lukeria was nothing more to them than the
contemporary holder of an office which had been the outcome of their
religious and social needs, would, I think, be no less fallacious
to suppose than to credit the rumours current in the country that
it had been in the character of a divine personage that her people
had submitted themselves to her will. A childlike nature, at once
the product of the religious temperament and its peculiar pride, may
find it difficult to discriminate between the emotions of worship and
of love. When I questioned them, they strongly disclaimed for Lukeria
any pretension to supernatural gifts, and they rejected as a fable the
imputation that they had paid her divine honours. They had loved and
revered in her a good and noble woman, who raised their lives, relieved
their sorrows, and led their aspirations towards the higher life. The
evidence of her work and example is written in the appearance of this
model village, and in the demeanour of its inhabitants. All were well
clothed and clean and well nourished; it was a pleasure to see them go
about their business in their quiet, earnest way. I saw no poor people
in Gorelovka, not a sign of the habitual squalor of the East. Provision
had been made for the orphans and the destitute, and I understood that
all the colonists of the neighbourhood contribute to the funds. But
what impressed me most, beside the evidence of their affection in
these dwellings and this enclosure maintained in neatest order, as
though in spirit she inhabited them still, was the love of flowers
which the queen appears to have developed in her people and brought
them to share with her. In the decline of wealth and of the arts,
the sight of garden flowers becomes more and more rare in the East;
and, at best, they are there little more than the ornament of luxury
and the setting of sensual delights. At Gorelovka one cannot doubt
that these geraniums and roses are cultivated for their own sake alone.
The religion of the Dukhobortsy resembles that of our own extreme
Protestants; it is the Government fans their zeal into destroying
flames. That they are Christians there can, I think, be scarcely any
doubt; they told me positively that they acknowledged and worshipped
Christ as God. [58] But God is a spirit, and they that worship God
must worship Him in spirit and in truth. The spirit of God dwells
in the souls of His servants, who themselves are sons of God. How
therefore can a church, an image or an eikon claim reverence as a
holy thing? In these there dwells no spirit, no effluence of Godhood;
the Church of God is the human soul. Reasoning thus, the Dukhobortsy
bow to one another after prayer, saluting the divinity that resides
in man. Scripture they accept; but the book of God must be a living
book, a book to which there is never any end. Hence their religious
conceptions float about in the mouths of the people, in the form of
psalms. New psalms may be sung; but the old psalms never perish--the
Word of God, old yet ever new. They reject priests and all the
apparatus of official religion, and themselves conduct whatever simple
ceremonies may be necessary upon birth, at marriage and after death.
The moral ideas of the Dukhobortsy are such as might be expected
from a people who hold this lofty view of the nature of man. Man,
being the receptacle of the divinity, must not injure, must not
kill his fellow-man. Hence they do not see the necessity of judicial
tribunals; for they do not wish to wrong any man. Nor do they consider
that one man should exercise authority over another; each one must do
his duty, because it is his duty, and no compulsion can be necessary
from outside.
That from such peaceful surroundings there should issue fierce
dissensions, that a people trained to mutual love and forbearance
should be inflamed by the worst passions of an opposite nature, and
turn the hand which they had been unwilling to lift against their
fellow-men upon the brothers of their own creed, is a melancholy
example of the failure of purely emotional methods to elevate
permanently the nature of man. It seems there are no short cuts
to virtue; the standards attained under the impulse of religious
enthusiasm have but an ephemeral life. With the death of Lukeria
was removed the personality and visible example for which simple
natures crave; and the exaggeration of sentiment, of which she
had been the object, brought with it its own revenge. Although cut
off at the early age of forty-three years, the queen was already a
widow when she died. Her marriage had been childless, and, even had
she possessed a natural successor, the place which she occupied in
the imagination of her people would perhaps have been impossible to
fill. Yet scarcely a year had elapsed from the time of her death when a
pretended successor arose--a boy, who, I believe, claimed relationship
with her, and who presumed to be worthy to wear the mantle which
had hitherto descended on none. The inhabitants of Gorelovka, whose
version of the story I am giving, were emphatic in their statement
that this youth was an impostor. "He told lies," was the expression
which they used. His authority had never been acknowledged by them,
and he had stirred up their own brethren against them. I gathered
that they had not stopped short of actual violence in the ardour of
religious and partisan zeal. Gorelovka, it appears, had been solid
against the usurper; but opinions had been divided in the neighbouring
villages and throughout the community settled in Transcaucasia of the
Dukhobortsy sect. The Russian Government, as was natural, surveyed
the situation from the standpoint of hard-headed prudence; they were
not anxious to see installed a successor to Lukeria and a revival of
the old religious flame. The weight of their authority was thrown in
the scale against the pretender; he was suppressed without delay and
banished from the country to a remote exile in the north.
At the time of our visit the feud was slumbering; Count Tolstoy informs
us how it broke out anew. It would appear that the pretender--his
name was Peter Veriguin--was supported by the large majority of the
Dukhobortsy, who were incensed at the action of the authorities in
making over to the brother of Lukeria, our friend Ghubanoff, the
succession to the communal funds. From his place of exile Veriguin
corresponded with his disaffected brethren; Government, apprised of
the fact, removed him to Siberia during the winter of 1894-5. While
he was in Moscow on his way to the land of forgetfulness, he was
visited by his relations and by some of his spiritual allies. Them he
charged to convey a proposal to the brethren: that they should abstain
from participation in the violent acts of Government, should refuse
to serve in the capacity of soldiers, and should destroy all their
arms. This proposal was accepted by the whole of the larger party;
and they prepared to translate it into action without delay.
In the Government of Elizabetpol, on the first day of the festival of
Easter, eleven Dukhobortsy, who were performing military service with
a reserve battalion, refused to parade, and formally signified that
they intended to serve no more. At their head was an individual who,
in spite of his legal disability as a sectarian, had been promoted
to the rank of a non-commissioned officer for his high qualities and
the exceptional nature of his deserts. Their example was followed
in other provinces, in Akhalkalaki, in Kars. No pains were spared
by the authorities to save them from their rashness; when persuasion
failed, fear was tried. Five recalcitrants in Akhalkalaki were taken
into the prison yard and placed in line. A firing party of Cossacks
was called in and ordered to load with ball; the prisoners asked and
received permission to pray. The command "make ready" was next issued,
and a few minutes passed. The former soldiers quietly awaited the
word to fire. It was not given; the muzzles were lowered, and they
were conducted to their cells. In other places Cossacks charged the
prisoners and made pretence to cut them down. When the sectarians still
persisted in their decision, they were beaten with the lash. Asked how
they justified their action, they answered that they were Christians,
endeavouring to observe the precepts of Christ. Nor was their refusal
to serve in the army the only issue with Government into which they
were carried by their aversion to violence in human affairs. It so
happened that a certain prisoner, in course of transportation, was
brought to one of their villages. It was the duty of the elder of the
village to provide for his further escort and to hand him over to
a sure man. This charge had fallen by turn upon the brother of the
sergeant who had renounced service on the first day of Easter. The
man informed the elder that he could not escort the prisoner because
he would be unable to use force. He asked him to report his refusal
to the authorities; but the elder answered that he was not prepared
to turn traitor; he should bring the prisoner to the house of his
temporary warder, who would act as he thought best. The man returned to
his house; the elder brought the prisoner, and went away. The warder
treated his charge as though he were a pilgrim, warmed him, gave him
to eat and drink, gave him a bed. Next morning, observing that the
prisoner was a poor man, he supplied him with money and offered to
direct him on his way. When they had arrived outside the village,
he showed him two roads, of which he gave him the choice. He told
him that the one led to his destination as prisoner and the other
to liberty. The prisoner preferred the first road, and came to the
place of his destination. In this case no evil consequences ensued.
In 1895 the prison of Elizabetpol contained no less than 120 members
of the Dukhobortsy sect. All had been sentenced for offences of the
nature already described; but the crown of the people's offence was
not yet come. In a country where the holding of arms is regarded in
the light of a civil duty, they determined to burn every weapon in
their possession of which the purpose was to kill men. The night
of the 28th of June, the eve of the feast of Peter and Paul, was
chosen for the simultaneous execution of this resolve. In Kars and
in Elizabetpol the event passed off without serious trouble; but
the case was different in the province of Akhalkalaki. About three
versts from the village of Orlovka there is an excavation in the rock,
which the people call "The Cave." In this spot it was their habit to
hold their large prayer meetings; it was now chosen as the tryst for
the burning of arms. On the appointed night about 2000 people were
there collected; a pile was made, fuel and petroleum added, and the
whole ignited in due course. In the morning, when the flames were
exhausted, the assembly offered up prayer, and each man returned to
his home. The day passed quietly; they returned in the evening, and
collected together the metal parts which had escaped the fire. These
they melted into a mass, in the presence of a still larger concourse,
among whom were many women and young children.
In Gorelovka, which was on the side of Government, the restless
symptoms among the opposite party, and the fact that they were
collecting arms, had not passed unobserved. Anticipating attack,
the villagers had denounced their co-religionists and had received a
garrison of Cossacks and regular troops. On the 30th of June an order
came to all the settlements that the Governor was about to arrive
in Bogdanovka from Gorelovka and that he required all the settlers
to repair to that place. Those who were at home obeyed the summons;
their absent kinsmen, although apprised of the order, remained where
they were and engaged in prayer. A messenger arrived and repeated the
injunction. The old men answered that they were praying, that their
prayers would continue, and that, if the Governor wished to see them,
it was his part to come to them, they being many and he one. A second
messenger was sent with no better fortune. Then the watchers ran in
with the news that the Cossacks were close at hand. No sooner had
the assemblage closed together than the horsemen were upon them. An
officer rode at their head and cried "Oura!" The crowd was ridden down
and mercilessly beaten with the sharp lashes which the Cossacks use. A
man was seen to brandish his whip in the air for shame of striking. The
officer approached him, shouted to him that he was deceiving the Tsar,
and struck him in the face with his lash. Bruised and covered with
blood, the people were taken to the Governor; the women followed,
although the Cossacks tried to whip them away. Approaching Bogdanovka,
they met the carriage of the high official, and the officer shouted
"Hats off!" The old men answered him that they would know how to do
their duty when the Governor passed and saluted them. Again "Whips,
Oura!" and a second pitiless beating, until the grass was red with
blood. The Governor stopped the whipping and proceeded to Bogdanovka,
where he collected the brethren who had remained behind. When he began
to upbraid them, a man stepped forward with a military certificate
in his hand. This document he handed in to the Governor, announcing
that in future he refused to serve. The Governor lost command of his
temper and beat him with a stick. Then the people declared that they
would no longer obey Government or comply with any of its demands. The
Governor retaliated by ordering them to be whipped, and even threatened
to shoot them down. The next measure was to quarter Cossacks in their
villages, who lived at free quarters and violated the women. Four
hundred and sixty-four families were expelled from the district and
sent to starve in Georgian villages. These became labourers to the
Georgians and continued to maintain their high character. [59]
Reflecting upon this story after reading these accounts, the mind
travels back to the dawn of Christianity and to the annals of the early
Church. The famous letter of Pliny appears fresh and modern, while
the grave language of the London Times in the leading article which
it publishes mingles naturally with the spirit of a pre-Christian age:
"The first principles of their creed lead straight to social anarchy,
tempered only by the whims of the 'sons of God.' They are doubtless
sincere fanatics, and as such must be looked upon with a measure of
pity and respect." It is interesting to place by the side of this
paragraph in a modern newspaper the words of the great historian of
the Roman world: "The Christians were not less averse to the business
than to the pleasures of this world. The defence of our persons and
property they knew not how to reconcile with the patient doctrine
which enjoined an unlimited forgiveness of past injuries and commanded
them to invite the repetition of fresh insults. Their simplicity was
offended by the use of oaths, by the pomp of magistracy, and by the
active contention of public life; nor could their humane ignorance be
convinced that it was lawful on any occasion to shed the blood of our
fellow-creatures, either by the sword of justice or by that of war,
even though their criminal or hostile attempts should threaten the
peace and safety of the whole community;... while they inculcated
the maxims of passive obedience, they refused to take any active
part in the civil administration or the military defence of the
empire.... This indolent, or even criminal disregard to the public
welfare exposed them to the contempt and reproaches of the pagans,
who very frequently asked, What must be the fate of the empire,
attacked on every side by the barbarians, if all mankind should adopt
the pusillanimous sentiments of the new sect?"
Have the Christians of the present day become pagans, or did the
pagans only change their name?