The Englishwoman in Russia

by A lady

It appears that there are a great many of these portraits dispersed about Russia, for we saw several miracle-working ones in different parts of the country. In Moscow I frequently met a carriage and six, with postilions, coachman, and two footmen behind, all with uncovered heads, though it might have been in the depth of winter. It contained a portrait of the Virgin placed on the seat of honour, with two priests sitting facing it. All the people along the streets took off their hats and made the sign of the cross as it passed by, and seemed to regard it with as much respect as they would have done the Czar himself. During the time of the cholera I frequently used to see this carriage pass, and my Russian friends informed me that the presence of the image served to raise the spirits of the people, who believed that the dreadful scourge became lessened by it. I was even assured that, when taken, as it frequently was, into the chamber of the dying, their faith in it was so great that they had been often known to rally their failing energies and recover from a hopeless sickness, even after they had been entirely given over by the doctors that attended them. “But as it costs a great deal of money,” continued my informant, “to cause a miraculous portrait to be brought to a house, of course only the rich can afford it.”

In St. Petersburg there are very often processions of these pictures when the cholera is about, or any great event takes place: I saw them many times. The priests in their magnificent robes, bearing golden crosses and sacred banners, and several deacons carrying some miraculous portrait or other, go round the town accompanied by a band of choristers singing mass, and followed by immense crowds of the poorer classes, who consider themselves to be thereby performing an act of great devotion, every man having his head uncovered during the whole time. The picture is generally taken to some church, wherein mass is performed in its presence. When I was staying in Jaroslaf one spring, I had an opportunity of seeing the extent to which the superstition of the people and their reverence for these pictures prevailed.

As soon as the Volga was cleared of ice, hundreds of pilgrims and peasants from all parts of the country poured into the town, and they might have been seen in groups lying asleep on the bare ground, both men and women, there not being lodgings sufficient for their accommodation, but they probably preferred the open air, as they frequently sleep by the roadside on their marches. The custom of going on a pilgrimage is very general in Russia. We had a servant who went from St. Petersburg to Jerusalem and back again on foot. She went to the holy sepulchre to return thanks for her son’s recovery from sickness, and was absent a year. There is really something very affecting in such an act of gratitude and devotion.

The object of the pilgrimage to Jaroslaf was to assist in the procession of a wonderful miraculous picture of the Virgin, which was shortly expected to arrive from a monastery distant about eighty versts down the river.

The day at length came. Several barks with streamers flying and sacred banners displayed were seen from afar. On their nearer approach the sound of monkish hymns floating on the air caused a lively excitement among the people, who began crossing themselves with extreme assiduity. At last the Virgin disembarked: she was received by the governor with intense respect, who, together with the vice-governor, the maréchal de noblesse, the military, the police, and all the employés, were in their most magnificent uniforms. Those who had stars and crosses (which are about as plentiful in Russia as gingerbread-nuts at a fair, and as valuable) displayed them in their full splendour on this occasion in rows along their breast. The mayor and shopkeepers, and about twenty thousand of the lower classes all in their gala dresses, the pilgrims, and large numbers of children, accompanied the picture in the procession round the town, the governor walking next to it and the rest following according to their rank. It was then placed in the cathedral, where it was to remain for some weeks in order to receive the adoration (and the money) of the devout. Hearing so much about this wonderful portrait, I was induced to pay it a visit also. It was some time ere I could make my way into the cathedral, so great was the crowd, but at last my friend and I reached the altar on which it was placed. Certes, if the angels are no better artists they would assuredly starve on earth, for nobody, and certainly no lady, would wish her likeness taken in the same style. It could be compared to nothing but to a piece of a brown saddle, with some dark lines for the eyebrows, added to which the unfortunate Virgin had no nose—great age had deprived her of every trace of it. As usual in these old pictures, nothing but the face and hands were visible: the crown and robes were sheets of gold set with precious stones. A priest was standing near singing mass, another by his side had a tray in his hands, a third had charge of a powder-puff and a bowl of flour. As soon as the worshipper had contributed to the tray, the priest with the puff powdered the Madonna’s hand, and then the former was permitted to have the consolation of kissing it, which he did with many bows and crossings; he then retired with the air of being highly edified with what he had done: hundreds of people in succession performed the same ceremony. The clergy must obtain immense sums of money by means of these miraculous portraits, for I am afraid to say how frequently, even during the short time we were in the cathedral, the tray was filled by the offerings and taken to a chest placed against the wall, and secured by three locks, into which its contents were emptied. To be sure, a great deal of the coin was in copper, but there was also a fair quantity of silver.

The history of this Madonna may serve to give an idea of the traditions taught not only to the common people but to those of education.

It was in the fourteenth century, they say, that a holy pilgrim, on his way to Jerusalem, rested a night on the banks of the Volga, and lo! whilst he slept a vision appeared unto him and told him that under a certain tree on the opposite side of the river he should find the portrait of the “Mother of God.” In troubled agitation he awoke, for he knew that he had seen the blessed Virgin herself. On looking round him he perceived, to his unspeakable astonishment, that he had been conveyed in a miraculous manner across the rapid waters in the night, and that he was reposing under the very tree described in his dream. Near him was the heavenly portrait mentioned by the spiritual visitant. He gazed on it in silent extasy, but on reflection he felt convinced that he ought to make known the event to the proper authorities: he therefore proceeded to a neighbouring monastery and informed the venerable abbot and brothers of the facts. They immediately set out in grand procession to the spot, singing joyfully on the way, and there, as the pilgrim had said, was the miraculous portrait, now guarded by two bright angels, who instantly vanished. The abbot and the brotherhood interpreted the vision as the desire of Heaven that a church should be built on the spot, which was accordingly done, and the wonderful picture was reverently placed in it.

The service in the Russian Church is neither in Greek nor in the vulgar tongue, but in Sclavonic, which has about the same resemblance to Russ as the old English has to the modern. Religious ceremonies are used on all the ordinary occasions of life; in removing from one house to another, when the priest comes and sprinkles the doorposts and the threshold, blesses the images, and says prayers; on the reopening of a school after the vacation; on the anniversary of alleged victories, when perhaps a dozen enemies have fallen and the rest run away; thanksgivings for having taken a flag from the Turks (which is then paraded round the town with a band of music playing); Te Deums for such triumphs as that of Odessa, when, indeed, they might have had good reason to praise Heaven that their foes were too merciful; &c. &c.

Confession is one of the sacraments, but it is by no means of so particular a kind as among the Roman Catholics, but in a much more general sense, and is ordinarily made but once a year, during the first or last week in Lent. The six or eight days preceding the performance of this duty the penitents attend mass twice a day very strictly and fast conscientiously in order to prepare themselves for it. They assured me that it was not necessary to name any particular sin, but that, in acknowledging themselves guilty of having broken the commandments, they are exhorted by the confessor and advised to repent. The rite is generally performed at home, the priest attending for that purpose, and not in the church, but they go thither the next morning, or perhaps the same evening, to communicate: even the merest children are expected to confess, but it is not necessary that they should fast.

On Good Friday the ceremony of Christ’s interment takes place: it is conducted in exactly the same manner as if it were a real funeral. I witnessed this ceremony at one of the cathedrals.