Modern Saints and Seers Part 8

AMONG THE MIRACLE-WORKERS

The pilgrims and "workers of miracles" who wander through Russia can always find, not only free lodging, but also opportunity for making their fortunes. Their gains mount, often, to incredible figures, and the faith and piety that they diffuse have both good and bad aspects.

There are places, for instance, like Cronstadt, which, at one time inhabited mainly by drunkards, became before the war a "holy town."

Apart from Father Ivan and his peculiar reputation, there were hundreds of other pilgrims who, though quite unknown on their arrival, soon gained there a lucrative notoriety.

One of these was the _staretz_ (ancient) Anthony, who in three or four years ama.s.sed a considerable fortune. His popularity attracted representatives of all cla.s.ses of society. People wrote for appointments in advance, and went in order of precedence as to a fashionable doctor. It was quite common to have to wait ten or fifteen days for the desired interview. In Petrograd, where the population belonged half to the twentieth and half to the sixteenth century, Anthony was quite the mode. The _salons_ literally seized upon him, and, flattered and fondled, he displayed his rags in the carriages of fashionable women of the world, while the mob, touched by the spectacle of his acknowledged holiness, gave him enthusiastic ovations. His journey from Petrograd to Cronstadt was a triumphal progress. The crowds pressed around him and he walked among them barefooted, in spite of this being expressly forbidden by law. Finally, however, the police were roused, and one fine day he set forth at the government's expense for the "far-off lands"--of Siberia.

Cronstadt, town of drunkards and of miracle-workers _par excellence_, boasted about two hundred _staretz_. The most famous among them were the four brothers Triasogolovy--Hilarion, James, Ivan and Wasia.

The crowds, who had formerly visited Cronstadt only on Father Ivan's account, became ever greater, and were divided up among the various saints of the town, one of the most popular being Brother James, who undertook to exorcise demons.

His methods were simple. A woman once came to him, begging to be delivered from the numerous evil spirits that had taken possession of her soul. In view of their numbers, Brother James felt it necessary to have recourse to heroic measures. He rained blows upon the penitent, who emitted piercing shrieks, and as this took place in the hotel where the "holy man" was living, the servants intervened to put an end to the sufferings of the "possessed" one. But Brother James, carried away by enthusiasm in a good cause, continued to scourge the demons until the woman, unable to bear more, broke the window-pane and leapt into the street. Crowds gathered, and the Brother, turning to them, prophesied that shortly he would be--arrested! Thereupon the police made their appearance and removed him to the lock-up, and the crowds dispersed, filled with admiration for Brother James, who not only coped with demons, but actually foretold the evil that they would bring upon him.

In addition to the genuine visionaries, there were many swindlers who took advantage of the popular credulity. Such was the famous pilgrim Nicodemus, who travelled throughout Russia performing miracles. In the end the police discovered that he was really a celebrated criminal who had escaped from prison.

But Nicodemus was, as a matter of fact, better than his reputation, for, in granting absolution for large numbers of sins, his charges were relatively small. He is said to have a.s.sured whole villages of eternal forgiveness for sums of from twenty to a hundred roubles.

Frequently some out-of-work cobbler would leave his native village and set forth on a pilgrimage in the character of a _staretz_; or some "medical officer," unable to make a living out of his drugs, would establish himself as a miracle-worker and promptly grow rich. When one _staretz_ disappeared, there were always ten new ones to take his place, and the flood mounted to such an extent that the authorities were often powerless to cope with it. Persecution seemed only to increase the popular hysteria, and caused the seekers after truth to act as though intoxicated, seeing themselves surrounded by a halo of martyrdom.

C. THE RISING FLOOD

CHAPTER I

THE MAHOMETAN VISIONARIES

The flood of religious mania reached even beyond the borders of European Russia, and its effects were seen as much among the followers of other religions as among the Christians.

Mahometanism, although noted for its unshakable fidelity to the dogmas of Mahomet, did not by any means escape the mystic influences by which it was surrounded. To take one example from among many: in the month of April, 1895, a case of religious mania which had broken out among the Mahometan inhabitants of the south of Russia was brought before the law-courts at Kazan. It concerned a set of Tartars called the _Vasoftzi_, which had been founded in 1880 by a man named _Vasoff_, whose existence was revealed in unexpected fashion. A lawyer having called at his house, at the request of one of his creditors, Vasoff showed him the door, explaining that he did not consider himself under any obligation "to repay what had been given to him." The other returned later, however, accompanied by several policemen, and Vasoff's adherents then attacked the latter, while chanting religious hymns and proclaiming the greatness of their leader. They next barricaded themselves into the house, which was besieged by the police for some days, during which prayers issued from it towards heaven and stones towards the representatives of the law. Finally the rebels were overpowered, and sentenced to several years' imprisonment.

The police had a similar experience on another occasion when they tried to arrest one of the _Vasoftzi_, but in the end they got the upper hand, and several Tartars were delivered up to justice.

After being judged and sentenced, they presented themselves before the Court of Appeal, but when the usual questions were put to them, all began to pray and sing loudly. Silence was at last reestablished, and the judge again asked one of them for his name and profession. "Who are you, that you should question me?" was the reply, and once again all chanted together in chorus. The Tartars who had crowded into the court seemed deeply impressed by this att.i.tude, and the judge thought it well to dismiss the prisoners while the case was considered. They were brought back to hear the sentence, and again began to sing their prayers and hymns, while one of them cried out: "I am the chief of the heavenly regiment; I am the representative of Vasoff upon earth; and you, who are you that you should take upon yourself the right to judge me?" The others then calmly continued their interrupted song to the Lord, but they were all condemned to a period of forced labour, and their spokesman, in addition, to twenty-five strokes with the birch.

CHAPTER II

THE RELIGION OF THE POLAR Ma.r.s.eILLAIS

Let us now travel to the extreme north, to the land where dwell the Yakuts, the Ma.r.s.eillais of the Polar regions. Living a life of gay and careless vagabondage in this snowy world, they took part in one of the most characteristic episodes of the general religious upheaval.

At Guigiguinsk, a straggling village on the borders of the Arctic Ocean, lived a Yakut tribe already converted to Christianity. Their new faith had not in any way modified the happy-go-lucky nature of the inhabitants of this frozen land; neither had it in any way clarified their religious conceptions. "There are many G.o.ds," said they, "but Nicholas is the chief"--and no matter how miserable their life, they danced and sang, remembering no doubt how in their ancient home in the far-off south, their ancestors also sang, filling the whole world with their gaiety. Theirs was a fine climate and a fine country! The sun often shone, the gra.s.s grew high, and the snow only lasted for six months in the year. So everyone talked and danced and sang. There were orators who held forth for whole days; there were dancers who danced for weeks and weeks. From father to son these two ruling pa.s.sions have been handed down even to the Yakuts of the present day.

Now, as in former times--as when Artaman of Chamalga "so sang with his whole soul that the trees shed their leaves and men lost their reason"--the Yakuts sing, and their songs disturb the "spirits," who crowd around the singer and make him unhappy. But he sings on, nevertheless; though the whole order of nature be disturbed, still he sings.

Now, as in former times, the Yakut believes in "the soul of things,"

and seeks for it everywhere. Every tree has a soul, every plant, every object; even his hammer, his house, his knife, and his window. But beyond these there is _Ai-toen_, the supreme, abstract soul of all things, the incarnation of being, which is neither good nor bad, but just _is_--and that suffices. Far from concerning himself with the affairs of this world, Ai-toen looks down upon them from the seventh heaven, and--leaves them alone. The country is full of "souls" and "spirits," which appear constantly, and often incarnate in the shadows of men. "Beware of him who has lost his shadow," say the Yakuts, for such a one is thought to be dogged by misfortune, which is always ready to fall upon him unawares. Even the children are forbidden to play with their shadows.

Those who desire to see spirits must go to the _Shamans_, of whom there are only four great ones, but plenty of others sufficiently powerful to heal the sick, swallow red-hot coals, walk about with knives sticking into their bodies--and above all to rejoice the whole of nature with their eloquence. For the Yakuts consider that there is nothing more sacred than human speech, nothing more admirable than an eloquent discourse. When a Yakut speaks, no one interrupts him. They believe that in the spoken word justice and happiness are to be found, and in their intense sociability they dread isolation, desiring always to be within reach of the sound of human voices. By the magic of words, an orator can enslave whole villages for days, weeks and months, the population crowding round him, neglecting all its usual occupations, and listening to his long discourses with unwearied rapture.

Sirko Sierowszewski, who spent twelve years in the midst of these people, studying them closely, affirms in his cla.s.sic work on the Yakuts (published in 1896 by the Geographical Society of St.

Petersburg) that their language belongs to a branch of the Turko-Tartar group, and contains from ten to twelve thousand words. It holds, in the Polar countries, a position similar to that held by the French tongue in the rest of the world, and may be described as the French of the Arctic regions. The Yakuts are one of the most curious races of the earth, and one of the least known, in spite of the hundreds of books and pamphlets already published about them. Their young men frequently appear as students at the University of Tomsk, though they are separated from this source of civilisation by more than three thousand miles of almost impa.s.sable country. The journey takes from fifteen months to two years, and they frequently stop _en route_ in order to work in the gold mines, to make money to pay for their studies. These are the future regenerators of the Yakut country.

About thirty years ago there arrived among these care-free children of nature a Russian functionary, a sub-prefect, who took up his residence at Guigiguinsk, on the sh.o.r.es of the Arctic Sea. He was a tremendous talker, though it is impossible to say whether this was the result of his desire to found a new religious sect, or whether the sect was the result of his pa.s.sion for talking. At any rate, he harangued the populace indefatigably, and they gathered from all quarters to listen to the orator of the Tsar, and were charmed with him.

In one of his outpourings he declared that he was none other than Nicholas, the princ.i.p.al G.o.d of the whole country, and his listeners, who had never before beheld any but "little G.o.ds," were filled with enthusiasm at the honour thus bestowed upon their particular district.

The sub-prefect ended by believing his own statements, and accepted in all good faith the homage that was paid to him, in spite of Christianity. A writer named Dioneo, in a book dealing with the extreme north-east of Siberia, tells us that even the local priest himself was finally converted, and that after a year or so the Governor of Vladivostock, who had heard rumours, began to grow uneasy about his subordinate, and despatched a steamer to Guigiguinsk to find out what had become of him. Upon arrival the captain hastened to fulfil his mission, but the people suspected that some danger threatened their "G.o.d" and took steps to hide him, a.s.suring the inquirers that he had gone away on a visit and would not return for a long time. As navigation is only possible in those parts for a few weeks in the year, the captain was obliged to return to Vladivostock. Another year pa.s.sed, and still there was no news of the sub-prefect. The captain returned to Guigiguinsk, and having received the same reply as before to his inquiries, made pretence of departure. He came back, however, the next day, and with his sailors, appeared unexpectedly among the Yakuts.

An unforgettable spectacle met their eyes.

The little town was _en fete_, church bells ringing, songs and reports of firearms intermingling. Great bonfires flamed along the seash.o.r.e, and a solemn procession was pa.s.sing through the streets. Seated on a high throne in a carriage, the sub-prefect, the "great G.o.d" of Guigiguinsk, was haranguing the crowds, with partridges' wings, ribbons, tresses of human hair and other ornaments dear to the Yakuts, dangling round his neck. To his carriage were harnessed eight men, who drew it slowly through the town, while around it danced and sang _shamans_ and other miracle-workers, accompanying themselves on tambourines. Thus did the believers in the new religion celebrate the happy escape of their "G.o.d" from danger.

The appearance of the captain and his armed men produced a sensation.

The "great G.o.d" was seized and carried off, and forced to submit, subsequently, to all kinds of humiliations.

CHAPTER III

THE RELIGION OF THE GREAT CANDLE

On the outskirts of Jaransk, in the Viatka district, a race called the _Tcheremis_ has dwelt from time immemorial. While Russian scholars, like Smirnov, were employed in unveiling all the mysteries of their past, the authorities were endeavouring to imbue them with Russian conceptions of religion and government. But these people were not easily persuaded to walk in the right way, and from time to time there arose violent differences of opinion between them and the representatives of officialdom.

In 1890, at the time of the Scientific and Industrial Exhibition at Kazan, an appeal was made to the Tcheremis to send some objects of anthropological and ethnographical interest. They responded by sending those representing their religion, for, having rejected orthodoxy, they wished the beauties of their "new faith" to be admired. They therefore exhibited at Kazan large spoons and candles, drums that were used to summon the people to religious ceremonies, and various other articles connected with their mysterious beliefs, and the Committee of the Exhibition awarded them a medal for "a collection of invaluable objects for the study of the pagan religion of the Tcheremis."

The natives, knowing nothing of the complicated organisation of scientific awards, simply concluded that the medal had been given to them because their religion was the best, and the leader of their community wore it round his neck, and recounted everywhere how "out of all the religions that had been examined at Kazan, only that of the 'Great Candle' had been found to be perfect." All the believers rejoiced over the prestige thus won by their faith, and a wave of religious ecstasy swept over the country. Three of the fathers of the church affixed copies of the medal to their front doors, with the inscription: "This was given by the Tsar to the best of all religions,"

and the people made merry, and gave themselves up to the bliss of knowing that they had found the true and only way of salvation, as acknowledged by the representatives of the Tsar himself.

Poor creatures! They were not aware of the contents of Article 185 of the Russian criminal code, which ordained that the goods of all who abandoned the orthodox faith should be confiscated, until they expressed repentance and once more acknowledged the holy truths of the official church. So it came about that in spite of the triumph of their religion at the Exhibition of Kazan, legal proceedings began, and in 1891 and 1892, as many as fourteen actions were brought against the adepts of the Great Candle, and numbers of them were sentenced to imprisonment and to the confiscation of their goods. All this in spite of the fact that their beliefs did not in any way threaten to undermine the foundations of society.

"There are six religions contained in the books which the Tsar has given to his people"--they said, when brought before the tribunal--"and there is a seventh oral religion, that of the Tcheremis. The seventh recognises neither the sacraments nor the gospel. It glorifies G.o.d in person, and the faith which has been handed down from father to son.

It has been given to the Tcheremis _exclusively_, because they are a poor, unlettered people, and cannot afford to keep up priests and churches. They call it the religion of the Great Candle, because in their ceremonies a candle about two yards in length is used; and they consider Friday a holiday because on it are ended the prayers which they begin to say on Wednesday."

When questioned by the judge, the accused complained that the orthodox clergy expected too many sacrifices from them, and charged them heavily for marriages and burials, this being their reason for returning to "the more merciful religion of their forefathers."

According to the _Journal of the Religious Consistory of the Province of Viatka_, the Tcheremis were guilty of many other crimes. They did not make the sign of the cross, and refused to allow their children to be baptised or their dead to be buried with the rites of the orthodox church. Truly there is no limit to the heresies of men, even as there is none to the mercies of heaven! Further, the missionaries complained with horror that, in addition to seven princ.i.p.al religions, the Tcheremis acknowledged seventy-seven others, in accordance with the division of humanity into seventy-seven races.

"It is G.o.d," they said, "who has thus divided humanity, even as He has divided the trees. As there are oaks, pines and firs, so are there different religions, all of heavenly origin. But that of the Tcheremis is the best. . . . The written Bible, known to all men, has been falsified by the priests, but the Tcheremis have an oral Bible, which has been handed down intact, even as it was taught to their forbears by G.o.d. . . . The Tsar is the G.o.d of earth, but he has nothing to do with religion, which is not of this world."

The prayers of these dangerous heretics, who were punished like common criminals, mirror the innocence of their souls. They implored G.o.d to pardon all their sins, great and small; to grant good health to their cattle and their children. They thanked Him for all His mercies, prayed for the Tsar and all the Imperial family, for the soldiers, for the civil authorities, and for all honest men; and finally for the dead "who now labour in their celestial kingdom."

The tribunal, however, implacably brought the law to bear upon them, and thinking their punishment too great for their crimes, they had recourse to the Court of Appeal, where they begged to be judged "according to the good laws of the Tsar, not the bad ones of the Consistory." But the sentence was ratified, and the religion of the Great Candle procured for its followers the martyrdom that they had so little desired.