Produced by Al Haines

MODERN SAINTS AND SEERS

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF

JEAN FINOT

BY

EVAN MARRETT

LONDON

WILLIAM RIDER & SON, LTD.

CATHEDRAL HOUSE, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.

1920

PREFACE

THE FOREST OF ILLUSIONS

"Listen within yourselves, and gaze into the infinity of Space and Time. There resounds the song of the Stars, the voice of Numbers, the harmony of the Spheres."—HERMES TRISMEGISTUS.

In these days the phenomenon of religion, which we believed to have receded into the background of human life, is reappearing among us, more vigorous than ever. The four years' desolation into which the world was plunged has rendered the attraction of "the beyond" irresistible, and man turns towards it with passionate curiosity and undisguised longing. The millions of dead who have vanished from mortal sight seem to be drawing the present towards the unsounded deeps of the future. In many cases their loss has taken all joy and colour from the lives of those who survive them, and tear-stained faces are instinctively turned towards the portals of the Great Mystery.

Occultism is triumphant. In its many different forms it now emerges from obscurity and neglect. Its promises excite our deepest thoughts and wishes. Eagerly we examine the strength of the bridge that it has built between this world and the next; and though we may see our hopes slip down between the crevices, though we may find those who have been disappointed in a more despairing state than before—what matter? We still owe thanks to occultism for some cherished moments of illusion.

The number of its followers increases steadily, for never before has man experienced so ardent a desire for direct contact with the Unknowable. Science will have to reckon with this movement which is carrying away even her own high-priests. She will have to widen her frontiers to include the phenomena that she formerly contemned.

The supernatural world, with its abnormal manifestations, fascinates modern humanity. The idea of death becomes more and more familiar. We even demand, as Renan happily expressed it, to know the truth which shall enable us not to fear, but almost to love, death: and an irresistible force urges us to explore the depths of subconsciousness, whence, it is claimed, may spring the desired renewal and intensification of man's spiritual life.

But why is it that we do not return to the old-established religions? It is because, alas, the Great Agony through which the world has passed has not dealt kindly with any form of established faith. Dogmatic theology, which admits and exalts the direct interference of the divinity in our affairs, has received some serious wounds. The useless and unjustifiable sacrifice of so many innocent lives, of women, of old men, of children, left us deeply perplexed. We could not grasp the reason for so much suffering. Never, at any period in the past, have the enemies of humanity and of God so blasphemed against the eternal principles of the universe—yet how was it that the authors of such crimes went unpunished?

Agonising doubts seized upon many faithful hearts, and amid all the misery with which our planet was filled we seemed to distinguish a creeping paralysis of the established faiths. Just at the time when we most had need of religion, it seemed to weaken and vanish from our sight, though we knew that human life, when not enriched and ennobled by spiritual forces, sinks into abysmal depths, and that even any diminution in the strength of these forces is fatally injurious to our most sacred and essential interests.

Attempts to revive our faith were bound to be made sooner or later, and we shall no doubt yet witness innumerable pilgrimages towards the source of religion.

The psychology of the foundations of the spiritual life; the mysterious motives which draw men towards, or alienate them from, religious leaders; the secret of the influence exercised by these latter upon mankind in the mass—all these things are now and always of intense interest. Through the examination of every kind of disease, the science of medicine discovers the laws of health; and through studying many religions and their followers we may likewise arrive at a synthesis of a sane and wholesome faith. The ever-increasing numbers of strange and attractive places of worship which are springing up in all countries bear witness to man's invincible need to find shelter behind immediate certainties, even as their elaborate outer forms reflect the variety of his inward aspirations.

In the great forest of ecstasies and illusions which supplies spiritual nourishment to so many of our fellow-humans, we have here confined ourselves to the examination of the most picturesque and unusual plants, and have gathered them for preference in the soil of Russia and of the United States. These two countries, though in many respects further apart than the Antipodes, furnish us with characteristic examples of the thirst for renewal of faith which rages equally in the simple soul of an uncultured peasant and in that of a business man weary of the artificialities of modern life.

Many of us held mistakenly that our contemporaries were incapable of being fired to enthusiasm by new religions, whose exponents seemed to us as questionable as their doctrines. But we need only observe the facts to behold with what inconceivable ease an age considered prosaic and incredulous has adopted spiritual principles which frequently show up the lack of harmony between our manner of life and our hidden longings.

The religious phenomena which we see around us in so many complex forms seem to foreshadow a spiritual future whose content is illimitable.

Such examples of human psychology, whether normal or morbid, as are here offered to the reader, may well recall to mind some of the strangest products of man's imagination. The tales of Hoffmann or of Edgar Allan Poe pale before these inner histories of the human soul, and the most moving novels and romances appear weak and artificial when compared to the eruptions of light and darkness which burst forth from the depths of man's subconsciousness.

These phenomena will interest the reader of reflective temperament no less than the lover of the sensational and the improbable in real life.

CONTENTS

PREFACE: THE FOREST OF ILLUSIONS

PART I

THE SALVATION OF THE POOR

A. THE ORGANISED SECTS

CHAPTER

I. THE NEGATIVISTS II. THE WHITE-ROBED BELIEVERS III. THE STRANGLERS IV. THE FUGITIVES V. THE SOUTAIEVTZI VI. THE SONS OF GOD VII. THE TOLSTOYANS VIII. THE SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANS IX. A LABORATORY OF SECTS X. THE DOUCHOBORTZI XI. THE MOLOKANES XII. THE STOUNDISTS XIII. THE MERCHANTS OF PARADISE XIV. THE JUMPERS AND THE HOLY BROTHERS XV. THE LITTLE GODS XVI. THE FOLLOWERS OF GRIGORIEFF XVII. THE NAPOLEONITES XVIII. THE DIVINE MEN XIX. THE RELIGION OF RASPUTIN XX. THE INSPIRED SEERS XXI. THE RELIGION OF SISTER HELEN XXII. THE SELF-MUTILATORS

B. THE NON-SECTARIAN VISIONARIES

I. THE BROTHERS OF DEATH II. THE DIVINITY OF FATHER IVAN III. AMONG THE MIRACLE-WORKERS

C. THE RISING FLOOD

I. THE MAHOMETAN VISIONARIES II. THE RELIGION OP THE POLAR MARSEILLAIS III. THE RELIGION OF THE GREAT CANDLE IV. THE NEW ISRAEL V. CONCLUSION

PART II

THE SALVATION OF THE WEALTHY

A. RELIGION AND ECONOMY

I. THE MORMONS, OR LATTER-DAY SAINTS II. THE RELIGION OF BUSINESS III. THE ADEPTS OF THE SUN OF SUNS

B. RELIGION AND MIRACLES

I. THE CHRISTIAN SCIENTISTS II. SCHLATTER, THE MIRACLE-MAN

PART III

THE DEPTHS OF THE SUBCONSCIOUS MIND

I. SECTS IN FRANCE AND ELSEWHERE II. THE RELIGION OF MURDER III. THE REINCARNATIONISTS' PARADISE CONCLUSION

MODERN SAINTS AND SEERS

PART I

THE SALVATION OF THE POOR

A. THE ORGANISED SECTS

The tragic death of the monk Rasputin made a deep impression upon the civilised world, and truth was lost to view amid the innumerable legends that grew up around his life and activities. One leading question dominated all discussions:—How could an individual so lacking in refinement and culture influence the life of a great nation, and become in indirect fashion one of the main factors in the struggle against the Central Powers? Through what miracle did he succeed in making any impression upon the thought and conduct of a social order infinitely superior to himself?

Psychologists are fascinated by the career of this adventurer who ploughed so deep a furrow in the field of European history; but in seeking to detach the monk from his background, we run the risk of entirely failing to comprehend the mystery of his influence, itself the product of a complex and little understood environment. The misery of the Russian people, combined with their lack of education, contributed largely towards it, for the desire to escape from material suffering drove them to adopt the weirdest systems of salvation for the sake of deliverance and forgetfulness.

The perception of the ideal is often very acute among the uneducated. They accept greedily every new "message" that is offered them, but alas, they do not readily distinguish the true from the false, or the genuine saint from the impostor.

The orthodox clergy of the old Russian regime, recruited under deplorable conditions, attained but rarely the moral and intellectual eminence necessary to inspire their flock with feelings of love and confidence; while, on the other hand, the false prophets and their followers, vigorously persecuted by official religion, easily gained for themselves the overwhelming attraction of martyrdom. Far from lessening the numbers of those who deserted the established church, persecution only increased them, and inflamed the zeal of its victims, so that they clung more passionately than ever to the new dogmas and their hunted exponents.

These sects and doctrines, though originating among the peasantry, did not fail to spread even to the large towns, and waves of collective hysteria, comparable to the dances of death of the Middle Ages, swept away in their train all the hypersensitives and neurotics that abound in the modern world. Even the highest ranks of Russian society did not escape the contagion.

We shall deal in these pages with the most recent and interesting sects, and with those that are least known, or perhaps not known at all. Beginning with the doctrines of melancholia, of tenderness, of suffering, of exalted pietism, and of social despair—which, whether spontaneous or inspired, demoniac or divine, undoubtedly embody many of the mysterious aspirations of the human soul—we shall find ourselves in a strange and moving world, peopled by those who accomplish, as a matter of course, acts of faith, courage and endurance, foreign to the experience of most of us.

These pages must be read with an indulgent sympathy for the humble in spirit who adventure forth in search of eternal truth. We might paraphrase on their behalf the memorable discourse of the Athenian statesman: "When you have been initiated into the mystery of their souls you will love better those who in all times have sought to escape from injustice."

We should feel for them all the more because for so long they have been infinitely unhappy and infinitely abused. Against the dark background of the abominations committed by harsh rulers and worthless officials, the spectacle of these simple souls recalls those angels described by Dante, who give scarcely a sign of life and yet illuminate by their very presence the fearful darkness of hell; or those beautiful Greek sarcophagi upon which fair and graceful scenes are depicted upon a background of desolation. These "pastorals" of religious faith have a strangely archaic atmosphere, and I venture to think that my readers will enjoy the contemplation of such virgin minds, untouched by science, in their swift and effortless communings with the divine.

The mental profundities of the moujik exhale sweetness and faith like mystic flowers opening under the breath of the Holy Spirit. In them, as in the celebrated Psychomachy of Prudence, the Christian virtues meet with the shadows of forgotten gods, Holy Faith is linked to Idolatry, Humility and Pride go hand in hand, and Libertinism seeks shelter beneath the veils of Modesty.

This thirst for the Supreme Good will in time find its appeasement in the just reforms brought by an organised democracy to a long-suffering people. Some day it may be that order, liberty and happiness shall prevail in the Muscovite countries, and their inhabitants no longer need to seek salvation by fleeing from reality. Then there will exist on earth a new paradise, wherein God, to use Saint Theresa's expression, shall henceforth "take His delight."

CHAPTER I

THE NEGATIVISTS

The most propitious and fertile soil in which collective mania can grow is that of unhappiness. Famine, unjust taxation, unemployment, persecution by local authorities, and so on, frequently lead to a dull hatred for the existing social, moral and religious order, which the simple-minded peasant takes to be the direct cause of his misfortunes.

Thus it was that the Negativists denied everything—God, the Devil, heaven, hell, the law, and the power of the Tsar. They taught that there is no such thing as right, religion, property, marriage, family or family duties. All those have been invented by man, and it is man who has created God, the Devil, and the Tsar.

In the record of the proceedings taken against one of the principal upholders of this sect, we find the following curious conversation between him and the judge.

"Your religion?"

"I have none."

"In what God do you believe?"

"In none. Your God is your own, like the Devil, for you have created both. They belong to you, like the Tsar, the priests, and the officials."

These people believe neither in generosity nor in gratitude. Men give away only what is superfluous, and the superfluous is not theirs. Labour should be free; consequently they kept no servants. They rejected both trade and money as useless and unjust. "Give to thy neighbour what thou canst of that of which he has need, and he in turn will give thee what thou needest." Love should be entirely free. Marriage is an absurdity and a sin, invented by man. All human beings are free, and a woman cannot belong to any one man, or a man to any one woman.

Here are some extracts taken from some other legal records. Two of the believers were brought before the judge, accompanied by a child.

"Is this your wife?" the judge inquired of the man.

"No, she is not my wife."

"How is it then that you live together?"

"We live together, but she is not mine. She belongs to herself."

Turning to the woman, the judge asked:

"Is this your husband?"

"He is not mine. He does not belong to me, but to himself."

"And the child? Is he yours?"

"No, he is not ours. He lives with us; he is of our blood; but he belongs to himself."

"But the coat you are wearing—is that yours?" demanded the exasperated judge.

"It is on my back, but it is not mine. It belonged once to a sheep; now it covers me; but who can say whose it will be to-morrow?"

The Negativists invented, long before Tolstoi, the doctrine of inaction and non-resistance to evil. They were deceived, robbed and ruined, but would not apply to the law, or to the police. Their method of reasoning and their way of speaking had a peculiar charm. A solicitor who visited one of the Siberian prisons reports the following details concerning a man named Rojnoff. Arrested and condemned to be deported for vagabondage, he escaped repeatedly, but was at length imprisoned. The inspector was calling the roll of the prisoners, but Rojnoff refused to answer to his name. Purple with rage, the inspector approached him and asked, "What is your name?"

"It is you who have a name. I have none."

After a series of questions and answers exchanged between the ever more furious official and the prisoner, who remained perfectly calm, Rojnoff was flogged—but in spite of raw and bleeding wounds he still continued to philosophise.

"Confess the truth," stormed the inspector.

"Seek it," replied the peasant, "for yourself, for indeed you have need of it. As to me, I keep my truth for myself. Let me be quiet—that is all I ask."

The solicitor visited him several months later, and implored him to give his name, so that he might obtain his passport and permission to rejoin his wife and children.

"But I have no need of all that," he said. "Passports, laws, names—all those are yours. Children, family, property, class, marriage—so many of your cursed inventions. You can give me only one single thing—quietness."

The Siberian prisons swarmed with these mysterious beings. Poor souls! Their one desire was to quit as soon as possible this vale of injustice and of tears!

CHAPTER II

THE WHITE-ROBED BELIEVERS

Sometimes this longing for a better world, where suffering would be caused neither by hunger nor by laws, took touching and poetic forms.

About the month of April, 1895, all eyes in the town of Simbirsk were turned upon a sect founded by a peasant named Pistzoff. These poor countryfolk protested against the injustices of the world by robing themselves in white, "like celestial angels."

"We do not live as we should," taught Pistzoff, an aged, white-haired man. "We do not live as our fathers lived. We should act with simplicity, and follow the truth, conquering our bodily passions. The life that we lead now cannot continue long. This world will perish, and from its ruins will arise another, a better world, wherein all will be robed in white, as we are."

The believers lived very frugally. They were strict vegetarians, and ate neither meat nor fish. They did not smoke or drink alcohol, and abstained from tea, milk and eggs. They took only two meals daily—at ten in the morning, and six in the evening. Everything that they wore or used they made with their own hands—boots, hats, underclothing, even stoves and cooking utensils.

The story of Pistzoff's conversion inevitably recalls that of Tolstoi. He was a very rich merchant when, feeling himself inspired by heavenly truth, he called his employes to him and gave them all that he had, including furniture and works of art, retaining nothing but white garments for himself and his family. His wife protested vehemently, especially when Pistzoff forbade her to touch meat, on account of the suffering endured by animals when their lives are taken from them. The old lady did not share his tastes, and firmly upheld a contrary opinion, declaring that animals went gladly to their death! Pistzoff then fetched a fowl, ordered his wife to hold it, and procured a hatchet with which to kill it. While threatening the poor creature he made his wife observe its anguish and terror, and the fowl was saved at the same time as the soul of Madame Pistzoff, who admitted that fowls, at any rate, do not go gladly into the cooking-pot.

The number of Pistzoff's followers increased daily, and the sect of the "White-robed Believers" was formed. Their main tenet being loving-kindness, they lived peacefully and harmed none, while awaiting the supreme moment when "the whole world should become white."

For the rest, the white-robed ones and their prophet followed the doctrines of the molokanes, who drank excessive quantities of milk during Lent—hence their name. This was one of the most flourishing of all the Russian sects. Violently opposed to all ceremonies, they recognised neither religious marriages, churches, priests nor dogmas, claiming that the whole of religion was contained in the Old and New Testaments. Though well-educated, they submitted meekly to a communal authority, chosen from among themselves, and led peaceful and honest working lives. All luxuries, even down to feminine ornaments or dainty toilettes, were banned. They considered war a heathen invention—merely "assassination on a large scale"—and though, when forced into military service, they did their duty as soldiers in peace-time, the moment war was in view it was their custom to throw away their arms and quietly desert. There were no beggars and no poor among them, for all helped one another, the richer setting aside one-tenth of their income for the less fortunate.

Hunted and persecuted by the government, they multiplied nevertheless, and when banished to far-away districts they ended by transforming the waste, uncultivated lands into flourishing gardens.

CHAPTER III

THE STRANGLERS

A sect no less extraordinary than the last was that of the Stranglers (douchiteli). It originated towards the end of 1874, and profited by a series of law cases, nearly all of which ended in acquittal. The Stranglers flourished especially in the Tzarevokokschaisk district, and first attained notoriety under the following circumstances.

A large number of deaths by strangling had been recorded, and their frequency began to arouse suspicion. Whether they were due to some criminal organisation, or to a series of suicidal impulses, the local police were long unable to decide, but in the end the culprits were discovered.

Were they, however, in reality culpable?

The unfortunate peasants, after much reflection, had come to the conclusion that death is not terrible, but that what is indubitably to be feared is the last agony—the difficult departure from terrestrial life. They decided, therefore, to come to the assistance of the Death Angel, and, when any sufferer approached the final struggle, his neighbours or relatives would carry him off to some isolated spot, tie up his head firmly but kindly in a cushion—and soon all was over.

Before, however, they had recourse to such drastic measures, they would inquire from the wizards (or znachar) of the district, doctors being almost unknown, whether the invalid still had any chance of recovery, and it was only after receiving a negative reply that the pious ceremony took place. We say "pious" because there is something strangely pathetic in this "crowning of the martyrs," as the peasants called it. Arising in the first place from compassion, the motive for the deed was, after all, a belief in the need for human sacrifice. The invalid who consents to give up his life for the honour of heaven accomplishes thereby an act of sublime piety; but what merit has he who dies only from necessity?

The corpses were buried in the forest and covered with plants and leaves, but no sign was left that might betray them to the suspicious authorities. When a member of the community disappeared, and the police made inquiries, they always had the greatest possible difficulty in finding his remains. Sometimes even his nearest relations did not know where the "saviours of his soul" had hidden him.

But there was one thing that marked the discovery of a dead Strangler. His body never bore any trace of violence, and as dissection always proved, in addition, the existence of some more or less serious disease, the sham "murderers" were eventually left in peace. A small local paper, the Volgar (April, 1895), from which these facts are taken, reports that several actions brought against them ended in their acquittal.

Lord Avebury recounts that certain cannibal tribes kill those of their members who have reached the stage of senile decay, and make them the substance of a more or less succulent repast. These savages act, no doubt, whether consciously or unconsciously, from some perception of the misery and uselessness of old age, but the Russian peasants cannot be compared to them. The Stranglers are not moved by any unconscious sentiment. Their belief is the logical application of a doctrine of pessimism, whose terrible consequences they have adopted, although they know not its terminology. What is the life of a moujik worth? Nothing, or nearly nothing. Is it not well, then, to accelerate the coming of deliverance? Let us end the life, and, snapping the chains that bind us to mortals, offer it as a sacrifice to heaven! So reason these simple creatures, inexorable in their logic, and weighed down by untold misery.

CHAPTER IV

THE FUGITIVES

The suffering of a people nourishes the spirit of rebellion, enabling it to come to birth and to survive. There are some religious sects based exclusively upon popular discontent. The biegouny, or Fugitives, did nothing but flee from one district to another. They wandered throughout Russia with no thought of home or shelter. Those who joined the sect destroyed their passports, which were considered a work of Satan, and adopted a belief in the Satanic origin of the State, the Church and the Law. They repudiated the institution of marriage, the payment of taxes, and all submission to authority. Their special imagery included, among other things, the devil offering a candle to the Tsar, and inviting him to become the agent for Satanic work upon earth. Sometimes their feelings led them to commit acts of violence; one, for instance, would interrupt divine service; another would strike the priest. A peasant named Samarin threw himself upon the priest in a Russian church, forced him away from the altar, and, having trampled the Holy Sacraments under foot, cried out, "I tread upon the work of Satan!"

When arrested and condemned to penal servitude for life, Samarin was in despair because the death sentence had not been passed, so sure was he that he would have gone straight to heaven as a reward for his heroic exploit.

CHAPTER V

THE SOUTAIEVTZI

The Soutaievtzi (founded in 1880 by a working-man of Tver, named Soutaieff) scoffed at the clergy, the ikons, the sacraments, and military service, while upholding the principle of communal possession. They very soon became notorious. Soutaieff travelled all over the country preaching that true Christianity consists in the love of one's neighbour, and was welcomed with open arms by Tolstoi himself. He taught that there was only one religion, the religion of love and pity, and that churches, priests, religious ceremonies, angels and devils, were mere inventions which must be rejected if one wished to live in conformity with the truth.

As to Paradise, when all the principles of love and compassion were realised upon earth, earth itself would be Paradise. Private ownership being the cause of all misery, as well as of crimes and lies, it must be abolished, together with armies and war. Further, Soutaieff preached non-resistance to evil, and the avoidance of all violence. One of his sons, when enrolled as a conscript, refused to carry a rifle. Arguments and punishments had no effect. He proved that heaven itself was opposed to the bearing of arms by quoting the Gospel to all who tried to compel him; and in the end he was imprisoned.

Neither did Soutaieff allow that a man should be judged by his neighbour. "Judge not, that ye be not judged," was his motto, and his life filled his followers with enthusiasm, and many besides with astonishment. This uncultured peasant, who had the courage to throw on the fire the money he had earned as a mason in St. Petersburg, who carried the idea of compassion to such lengths that he followed thieves in order to give them good flour in place of the bad that they had stolen from him by mistake—this simple-minded being, whose only desire was to suffer for the "truth," possessed without doubt the soul of a saint and a visionary.

CHAPTER VI

THE SONS OF GOD

The "sons of God" held that men were really gods, and that as divinity is manifested in our fellows and in ourselves, it is sufficient to offer prayers unto—our neighbours! Every man being a god, there are as many Christs as there are men, as many Holy Virgins as there are women.

The "sons of God" held assemblies at which they danced wildly, first together and then separately, until the moment when the women, in supreme ecstasy, turned from the left, and the men from the right, towards the rising sun. The dance continued until all reached a state of hysterical excitement. Then a voice was heard—"Behold the Holy Spirit!"—and the whole company, emitting cries and groans, would pursue the dizzy performance with redoubled vigour until they fell to the ground exhausted.

Their sect originated in the neighbourhood of a great hill, where dwelt a man named Philipoff with his disciples. He had retired there to work against the influence of anti-Christ, and it was there that God appeared to him, and said, "Truth and divinity dwell in your own conscience. Neither drink nor marry. Those among you who are already married should live as brothers and sisters."

Women were held in high esteem by the "sons of God," being venerated as "mothers or nieces of the Saviour."

CHAPTER VII

THE TOLSTOYANS

The numerous admirers of Count Tolstoi will find in his writings some derivations, whether conscious or unconscious, from the principles elaborated by many of the Russian sects. The doctrine of non-resistance, or inaction, the abolition of the army, vegetarianism, the defiance of law, and of dogmatic Christianity, together with many other conceptions which either scandalised or enraptured his readers, were already widespread among the Russian peasantry; though Tolstoi was able to give them new forms of expression and an original, if disquieting, philosophic basis.

But even as the products of the earth which we consume return to earth again, so do ideas and doctrines ever return to the source from which they sprang. A great reformer usually gathers his ideas from his environment, until, transformed by the workings of his brain, they react once more upon those to whom they actually owed their origin.

Renan has traced very accurately the evolution of a religious leader, and Tolstoi passed through all its logical phases, only stopping short of the martyrdom necessary ere he could enter the ranks of the prophets.

Imbued with the hopes and dreams that flourished all around him, he began, at a ripe age and in full possession of his faculties, to express his philosophy in poetic and alluring parables, the hostility of the government having only served to fire his enthusiasms and embitter his individual opinions. After first declaring that the masters of men are their equals, he taught later on that they are their persecutors, and finally, in old age, arrived at the conclusion that all who rule or direct others are simply criminals!

"You are not at all obliged to fulfil your duties," he wrote, in the Life and Death of Drojine, 1895, dedicated to a Tolstoyan martyr. "You could, if you wished, find another occupation, so that you would no longer have to tyrannise over men. . . . You men of power, emperors and kings, you are not Christians, and it is time you renounced the name as well as the moral code upon which you depend in order to dominate others."

It would be difficult to give a complete list either of the beliefs of the Tolstoyans, or of their colonies, in many of which members of the highest aristocracy were to be found.

"We have in Russia tens of thousands of men who have refused to swear allegiance to the new Tsar," wrote Tolstoi, a couple of years before his death, "and who consider military service merely a school for murder."

We have no right to doubt his word—but did Tolstoi know all his followers? Like all who have scattered seed, he was not in a position to count it. But however that may be, he transformed the highest aspirations of man's soul into a noble philosophy of human progress, and attracted the uneducated as well as the cultured classes by his genuine desire for equality and justice.

Early in June, 1895, several hundreds of verigintzi (members of a sect named after Veregine, their leader) came from the south of Russia to the Karsk district. The government's suspicions were aroused, and at Karsk the pilgrims were stopped, and punished for having attempted to emigrate without special permission. Inquiries showed that all were Tolstoyans, who practised the doctrine of non-resistance to evil on a large scale. For their co-religionists in Elisabethpol suddenly refused to bear arms, and nine soldiers also belonging to the sect repeated without ceasing that "our heavenly Father has forbidden us to kill our fellowmen." Those who were in the reserve sent in their papers, saying that they wished to have nothing more to do with the army.

One section of the verigintzi especially distinguished themselves by the zeal with which they practised the Tolstoyan doctrines. They reverenced their leader under the name of "General Tolstoi," gave up sugar as well as meat, drank only tea and ate only bread. They were called "the fasters," and their gentleness became proverbial. In the village of Orlovka they were exposed to most cruel outrages, the inhabitants having been stirred up against them by the priests and officials. They were spat upon, flogged, and generally ill-treated, but never ceased to pray, "O God, help us to bear our misery." Their meekness at last melted the hearts of their persecutors, who, becoming infected by their religious ardour, went down on their knees before those whom they had struck with whips a few minutes before.

CHAPTER VIII

THE SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANS

The Slavonic atmosphere exhales an intense longing for the ideal and for heaven. Often a kind of religious ecstasy seems to sweep over the whole length and breadth of the Russian territories, and Tolstoi's celebrated doctrines reflected the dreamy soul of the moujik and the teachings of many Russian martyrs. It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that it is only the peasants buried in the depths of the country who provide favourable soil for the culture of the religious bacillus. It is the same with all classes—merchants, peasants, labourers and aristocrats.

The working-classes, especially those of the large towns, usually offer more resistance to the influence of religious fanatics, but in Petrograd and Moscow they are apt to follow the general current. Lack of space forbids us to study in all their picturesque details the birth and growth of religious sects in these surroundings. We must confine ourselves to one of the more recent manifestations—that of the mysterious "spiritual Christians."

In 1893, a man named Michael Raboff arrived in St. Petersburg. Peasant by birth, carpenter by trade, he immediately began to preach the tenets of his "spiritual Christianity." He became suspect, and with his friend Nicholas Komiakoff was deported to a far-distant neighbourhood; but in spite of this his seed began to bear fruit, for the entire district where he and Komiakoff were sent to work was soon won over to the new religion. The director himself, his wife, and all his workmen embraced it, and though the workshops were closed by the police, the various members distributed themselves throughout the town and continued to spread Raboff's "message." Borykin, the master-carpenter, took employment under a certain Grigorieff, and succeeded in converting all his fellow-workers. Finally Grigorieff's house was turned into a church for the new sect, and an illiterate woman named Vassilisa became their prophetess. Under the influence of the general excitement, she would fall into trances and give extravagant and incomprehensible discourses, while her listeners laughed, danced and wept ecstatically. By degrees the ceremonial grew more complex, and took forms worthy of a cult of unbalanced minds.

At the time when the police tried to disperse the sect it possessed a quite considerable number of adherents; but it died out in May, 1895, scarcely two years after its commencement.

The "spiritual Christians" called themselves brothers and sisters, and gave to Raboff the name of grandfather, and to the woman Vassilisa that of mother. They considered themselves "spiritual Christians" because they lived according to the spirit of Christianity. For the rest, their doctrine was innocent enough, and, but for certain extravagances and some dangerous dogmas borrowed from other sects, their diffusion among the working-classes of the towns might even have been desirable. Sexual chastity was one of their main postulates, and they also recommended absolute abstention from meat, spirits, and tobacco. But at the same time they desired to abolish marriage.

When the police raided Grigorieff's workshops, they found there about fifty people stretched on the ground, spent and exhausted as a result of the excessive efforts which Raboff's cult demanded of them. At their meetings a man or woman would first read aloud a chapter from Holy Scripture. The listeners would make comments, and one of the more intelligent would expound the selected passage. Growing more and more animated, he would finally reach a state of ecstasy which communicated itself to all present. The whole assembly would cry aloud, groan, gesticulate and tear their hair. Some would fall to the ground, while others foamed at the mouth, or rent their garments. Suddenly one of the most uplifted would intone a psalm or hymn which, beginning with familiar words, would end in incoherency, the whole company singing aloud together, and covering the feet of their "spiritual mother" with kisses.

CHAPTER IX

A LABORATORY OF SECTS

We will now travel to the south of Russia, and examine more closely what might be called a laboratory of sects, or in other words a breeding-ground of religions whose idealism, whether foolish or sublime, is often sanctified by the blood of believers, and descends like dew from Hermon into the midst of our busy civilisation.

The mystical tendencies of the popular soul sometimes develop in a fashion little short of prodigious, and to no country do we owe so many remarkable varieties of religious faith as to that portion of Russia which lies between Kherson and Nicolaiev. There is seen in full activity the greatest religious laboratory in the world; there originate, as a rule, the morbid bacilli which invade the rest of Russia; and there do sects grow up like mushrooms, only to disappear with equal rapidity.

An orthodox missionary named Schalkinsky, who was concerned especially with the erring souls of the region of Saratov, has published a work in which he gives a fantastic picture of the events of quite recent years. He was already the author of several books dealing with the sect of the bezpopovtzi, and his high calling and official position combine to give authority to his words.

When we consider the immense variety of these sects, we can easily imagine what takes place in every small village that becomes possessed of the craving for religious perfection. Prophets, gods and demi-gods, holy spirits and apostles, all kinds of saints and mystics, follow thick and fast upon one another's heels, seeking to gain the ascendancy over the pious souls of the villagers. Some are sincere and genuinely convinced believers; others, mere shameless impostors; but all, manifesting the greatest ardour and eloquence, traverse the countryside, imploring the peasants to "abandon their old beliefs and embrace the new holy and salutary dogmas." The orthodox missionaries seem only to increase the babel by organising their own meetings under the protection of the local authorities.

Some of the sectarians will take part in public discussions, either in the open air or in the churches, but most of them content themselves with smiling mockingly at the assertions of the "anti-Christian faith" (i.e. the orthodox official religion). With the new regime conditions may undergo a radical change, but in former times religious doubts, when too openly manifested by the followers of the "new truths," were punished by imprisonment or deportation.

Sometimes the zeal of the missionaries carried them too far, for, not content with reporting the culprits to the ecclesiastical authorities, they would denounce them publicly in their writings. The venerable Father Arsenii, author of fifteen pamphlets against the molokanes, delivered up to justice in this way sufficient individuals to fill a large prison; and another orthodox missionary crowned his propaganda by printing false accusations against those who refused to accept the truth as taught by him.

In a centre like Pokourlei, which represented in miniature the general unrest of the national soul, there were to be found among the classified sects more than a dozen small churches, each having its own worshippers and its own martyrs. An illiterate peasant, Theodore Kotkoff, formed what was called the "fair-spoken sect," consisting of a hundred and fifty members who did him honour because he invented a new sort of "Holy Communion" with a special kind of gingerbread. Another, Chaidaroff, nicknamed "Money-bags," bought a forest and built a house wherein dwelt fifteen aged "holy men," who attracted the whole neighbourhood. Many men in the prime of life followed the example of the aged ones, and retired to live in the forest, while women went in even greater numbers and for longer periods. Husbands grew uneasy, and bitter disputes took place, in which one side upheld the moral superiority of the holy men, while the other went so far as to forbid the women to go and confess to them. One peasant claimed to be inspired by the "Holy Ghost," and promenaded the village, summer and winter, in a long blouse without boots or trousers, riding astride a great stick on which he had hung a bell and a flag, and announcing publicly the reign of Anti-Christ. In addition the village was visited by orthodox missionaries, but, as the Reverend Father Schalkinsky naively confesses, "the inhabitants fled them like the plague." They interviewed, however, the so-called chiefs of the new religions, who listened to them with gravity and made some pretence of being convinced by the purveyors of official truth.

CHAPTER X

THE DOUCHOBORTZI

The religious ferment of South Russia was due to some special causes, its provinces having served since the seventeenth century as lands of exile for revolutionaries of all kinds, religious, political and social. Dangerous criminals were also sent there, and a population of this nature naturally received with open arms all who preached rebellion against established principles and doctrines.

About the year 1750, a Prussian non-commissioned officer, expatriated on account of his revolutionary ideas, appeared in the neighbourhood of Kharkov. He taught the equality of man and the uselessness of public authority, and was the real founder of the douchobortzi, who believed in direct communion with the divinity by aid of the spirit which dwells in all men. The sparks scattered by this unknown vagabond flared up some time later into a conflagration which swept away artisans, peasants and priests, and embraced whole towns and villages.

The beliefs of the sect were that the material world is merely a prison for our souls, and that our passions carry in themselves the germs of our punishments. Nothing is more to be decried than the desire for worldly honour and glory. Did not Our Lord Himself say that He was not of this world? Emperors and kings reign only over the wicked and sinful, for honest men, like the douchobortzi, have nothing to do with their laws or their authority. War is contrary to the will of God. Christ having declared that we are all brothers and sisters, the words "father" and "mother" are illogical, and opposed to His teachings. There is only one Father, the Father in Heaven, and children should call their parents by their Christian names.

Except for these leading tenets, their doctrine was variable, and they not only gave rise to about a hundred other sects, but were themselves in a continual state of evolution and change. At one time it was their custom to put to death all children who were diseased in mind or body. As God dwells in us, they said, we cannot condemn Him to inhabit a body that is diseased. One leader of the sect believed himself to be the judge of the universe, and terrorised his co-religionists. Another ordered all who betrayed the doctrines of the sect to be buried alive, and legal proceedings which were taken against him and lasted several years showed him to be responsible for twenty-one "religious murders."

CHAPTER XI

THE MOLOKANES

A sect of considerable importance, that of the molokanes, owed its origin to the douchobortzi. It was founded by a sincere and ardent man named Oukleine, about the end of the eighteenth century. Moloko means milk; hence the name of the sect, whose adherents drank nothing else.

Improving upon the principles of liberty professed by the douchobortzi, the molokanes taught that "where the Holy Ghost is, there is liberty"; and as they believed the Holy Ghost to be in themselves they consequently needed neither laws nor government. Had not Christ said that His true followers were not of this world? Down, then, with all law and all authority! The Apostle Paul states that all are equal, men and women, servants and masters; therefore, the Tsar being a man like other men, it is unnecessary to obey him.

The Tsar has ten fingers and makes money; why then should not the molokanes make it, who also have ten fingers? (This was the reply given by some of them when brought up for trial on a charge of manufacturing false coinage.) War is a crime, for the bearing of arms has been forbidden. (It is on record that soldiers belonging to the sect threw away their arms in face of the enemy in the Crimean War.) One should always shelter fugitives, in accordance with St. Matthew xxv. 35. Deserters or criminals—who knows why they flee? Laws are often unjust, tribunals give verdicts to suit the wishes of the authorities, and the authorities are iniquitous. Besides, the culprits may repent, and then the crime is wiped out.

The molokanes have always been led by clever and eloquent men. Uplifted by a sense of the constant presence of the Holy Ghost, they would fall into ecstatic trances, fully convinced of their own divinity and desiring only to be transported to Heaven.

Of this type was the peasant Kryloff, a popular agitator who inflamed the whole of South Russia at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Intoxicated by the success of his oratory, he grew to believe in his own mission of Saviour, and undertook a pilgrimage to St. Petersburg in order to be made a priest of the "spiritual Christians." Poor visionary! He was flogged to death.

Another molokane leader was one Andreieff, who long preached the coming of the prophet Elijah. One fine day, excited by the eloquence of his own discourses, he set forth with his followers to conquer the "promised land," a rich and fertile district in the neighbourhood of Mount Ararat, but accomplished nothing save a few wounds gained in altercations with the inhabitants. On returning to his own country, he was deported to Siberia for having hidden some dangerous criminals from justice.

As the number of molokanes increased, they decided to emigrate en masse to the Caucasus. Their kind actions and enthusiastic songs attracted crowds of the poor and sick, as well as many who were troubled by religious doubts. At their head marched Terentii Bezobrazoff, believed by his followers to be the prophet Elijah, who announced that when his mission was accomplished he would ascend to Heaven to rejoin God, his Father, Who had sent him. But alas, faith does not always work miracles! The day being fixed beforehand, about two thousand believers assembled to witness the ascension of their Elijah. By the prophet's instructions, the crowd knelt down and prayed while Elijah waved his arms frantically. Finally, with haggard mien, he flung himself down the hillside, and fell to the ground. The disillusioned spectators seized him and delivered him up to justice. He spent many years in prison, but in the end confessed his errors and was pardoned.

Many other Elijahs wished to be transported to heaven, but all met with the same fate as Bezobrazoff. These misfortunes, however, did not weaken the religious ardour of the molokanes. A regular series of "false Christs," as the Russians called them, tormented the imaginations of the southern peasantry. Some believed themselves to be Elijah, some the angel Gabriel; while others considered themselves new saviours of the world.

One of these latter made his debut in the role of Saviour about 1840, and after having drained the peasants of Simbirsk and Saratov of money, fled to Bessarabia with his funds and his disciples. Later he returned, accompanied by twelve feminine "angels," and with them was deported to Siberia.

But the popular mind is not discouraged by such small matters. Side by side with the impostors there existed men of true faith, simple and devout dreamers. Taking advantage of freedom to expound the Gospel, they profited by it for use and abuse, and it seemed to be a race as to who should be the first to start a new creed.

Even as the douchobortzi had given birth to the molokanes, so were the latter in turn the parents of the stoundists.

CHAPTER XII

THE STOUNDISTS

This sect believed that man could attain to perfection of life and health only by avoiding the fatigue of penance and fastings; and that all men should equally enjoy the gifts of Nature, Jesus Christ having suffered for all. Land and capital should belong to the community, and should be equally divided, all men being brothers, and sons of the same God. Wealth being thus equalised, it was useless to try to amass it. Trade was similarly condemned, and a system of exchange of goods advocated. The stoundists did not attend church, and avoided public-houses, "those sources of disease and misery." The government made every effort to crush them, but the more they were persecuted, the more they flourished. The seers and mystics among them were considered particularly dangerous, and were frequently flogged and imprisoned—in fact, the sect as a whole was held by the Russian administration, to be one of the most dangerous in existence. It originated in the year 1862, and from then onwards its history was one of continuous martyrdom.

Like the molokanes, the stoundists refused to reverence the ikons, the sacraments, or the hierarchy of the orthodox church, and considered the Holy Scriptures to be simply a moral treatise. They abominated war, referring to it as "murder en masse," and never entered a court of law, avoiding all quarrels and arguments, and holding it to be the most degrading of actions for a man to raise his hand against his fellow. All their members learnt to read and write, in order to be able to study the Scriptures. They recognised no power or authority save that of God, refused to take oaths, and protested against the public laws on every possible occasion. Their doctrine was really a mixture of the molokane teachings and of Communism as practised by the German colonists, led by Gutter, who settled in Russia about the end of the eighteenth century and were banished to New Russia in 1818.

Strengthened by persecution and smacking of the soil, it was no wonder that stoundism became the religion par excellence of the Russian moujik, assuming in time proportions that were truly disquieting to the authorities.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MERCHANTS OF PARADISE

Side by side with these flourishing sects whose followers could be numbered by millions, there existed other communities, founded upon naive and child-like superstitions, strange fruits of the tree of faith. The members of one of these believed that it was only necessary to climb upon the roofs in order to take flight to heaven. The deceptions practised on them by charlatans, the relentless persecution of the government, even the loss of reason, all counted for nothing if only they might enjoy some few moments of supreme felicity and live in harmony with the divine! To experience such ecstasy they despoiled themselves of their worldly goods, and gave away their money to impostors in exchange for pardon for their sins.

The famous sect called the "Merchants of Paradise" was founded by a peasant, Athanasius Konovaloff. Together with his son Andrew, he preached at Osikovka, from 1885 to 1892, the absolution of sins in return for offerings "in kind." There was need for haste, he declared. Time was flying, and there were but few vacant places left in Paradise. These places were of two kinds—those of the first class, at ten roubles each, which enabled the purchaser to repose upon a celestial sofa; and those of the second class, at five roubles, whose occupiers had to spend eternity seated upon footstools. The credulous peasants actually deprived themselves of food in order to procure their places.

In 1887, a man who was much respected in the village sold his crops, and went to buy himself one of the first-class places. His son heard of it, and was in despair over this lavish expenditure of ten roubles. Why, he demanded, could not his father be content with a second-class place, like so many of their neighbours?

The dispute was brought into the courts, and the old man loudly lamented the criminal indifference of his son.

"In my poor old age," he cried, "after having worked so hard, am I to be condemned to sit for ever on a footstool for the sake of five roubles?"

Then, addressing his offspring—"And you, my son, are you not ashamed so to disregard the future life of your parent, who maintained you throughout your childhood? It is a great sin with which you are burdening your soul."

Places in Paradise were promised not only to the living, but also to those who had omitted to secure them before departing on their eternal journey. The relatives would apply to the prophet, who fixed the price according to the fortune left by the deceased.

A curious ceremonial always accompanied the payment of money to Konovaloff. It was first placed upon the ground; Konovaloff would lift it with his teeth and lay it on the table; and it was finally put in his pocket by his son, Andrew. He was also assisted in his operations by two old women.

CHAPTER XIV

THE JUMPERS AND THE HOLY BROTHERS

The Jumpers, or sopouny, founded by one Petroff, considered it their duty to blow upon one another during Divine Service. This arose from a misinterpretation of the ninth verse of the fortieth psalm. It was also their custom to pile benches one upon another and pray from the top of them, until some hysterical female fell to the ground in a religious paroxysm. One of those present would then lean over her and act the scene of the resurrection. Petroff was a great admirer of King David, and would sing his psalms to the accompaniment of dancing, like the psalmist before the Ark. His successor, Roudometkin, reorganised the Jumpers, and gave their performances a rhythmic basis. Foreseeing the near advent of the Saviour, he caused himself to be crowned king of the "spiritual Christians" in 1887, and married a "spiritual" wife, though without discarding his "material" one. His successors all called themselves "Kings of the spiritual Christians," but they had not the authority of poor Roudometkin, who had been removed to prison in Solovetzk.

We may class with the Jumpers the Holy Brothers, or chalapouts, who believed in the indwelling presence of the Holy Ghost. They were visionaries of a more exalted kind, and often attained to such a state of religious enthusiasm that in their longing to enter heaven they climbed to the roofs of houses and hurled themselves into space.

CHAPTER XV

THE LITTLE GODS

The sect of the "little gods," or bojki, was founded about 1880 by a peasant named Sava. Highly impressionable by nature, and influenced by the activities of at least a dozen different sects that flourished in his native village (Derabovka, near Volsk), Sava ended by believing himself to be God.

Though naturally aggressive, and of an irascible temperament, he soon became as serious as a philosopher and as gentle as a lamb. His intelligence seemed to increase visibly. He discoursed like a man inspired, and said to the inhabitants of Derabovka:—

"If there be a God in Heaven, there must also be one on earth. And why not? Is not the earth a creation of Heaven, and must it not resemble that which created it? . . . Where then is this earthly God to be found? Where is the Virgin Mary? Where are the twelve apostles?"

The dreamer wandered about the village, uttering his thoughts aloud. At first men shrugged their shoulders at his strange questions. But he continued to hold forth, and in the end the peasants gathered round him.

It was the sweetest moment of his life when the villagers of Derabovka at last found the deity who had been sought so eagerly. For whom could it be, if not Sava himself? . . . Thus Sava proclaimed himself God; gave to his kinsman Samouil the name of Saviour; to a peasant-woman of a neighbouring village that of the Virgin Mary; and chose the twelve Apostles and the Holy Ghost from among his acquaintance. The nomination of the latter presented, however, some difficulties. The Holy Ghost, argued the peasants, had appeared to Jesus by the river Jordan in the form of a dove, and how could one represent it by a man? They refused to do so, and decided that in future all birds of the dove species should be the Holy Ghost.

The authorities began to seek out the "gods," as they were called locally. Samouil was arrested and charged with being a false Saviour, but defended himself with such child-like candour that the tribunal was baffled. The movement therefore continued, and was indeed of a wholly innocent nature, not in any way menacing the security of the government, and filling with rapture all Sava's followers.

It was the custom of the "little gods" to gather in some forest, and there to hide the "Virgin Mary" in a leafy glade, and await her "apparition." Sava himself, and Samouil, the "Saviour," would be concealed close at hand, and she would emerge from her hiding-place in their company. The lookers-on then gave vent to loud cries of joy, and all united in glorifying the goodness of Heaven. The "Virgin" wore on these occasions a rich and beautiful robe in which all the colours of the rainbow were blended. The company would gather round her, while the "Apostles" reverently kissed her feet. Sacred hymns were then sung, and the worshippers dispersed filled with unbounded ecstasy.