The Story of Moscow

by Wirt Gerrare

“Come, brothers! your heads you may bow,
Before grand and most holy Moscow;
Where the old altars of our land,
Where shrines of saints, and ikons stand,
Our inmost sanctuary.”—Borozdna.

HOLY Moscow, so reverently and affectionately regarded by the orthodox as the Mother of the Church, is to them more than a mere agglomeration of sacred shrines and ecclesiastical edifices. Neither the churches—though they are numerous and important enough to warrant the familiar appellation—nor yet the wonder-working, incorruptible remains and the miraculous ikons most endear Moscow to the true-believer—for there are such elsewhere which receive like humble homage. Holy Moscow comprises all that has served to nurse and sustain the faith amidst infidel aggression; the white-walled and golden-crowned city is symbolic of the lasting reward of heroic endeavour in the upward struggle of the race towards supremacy. Not indestructible itself, but its spirit undying; razed time after time only to appear again greater and more glorious than before, Moscow seems to the Russian not so much a part of the national entity personified in empire, as the very soul of his race; possessed, even as each individual, with strength to endure adversity and unfailing vigour to accomplish a predestined purpose. Traditions of divine intervention; the finding and promulgation of Law; much that is miraculous and legendary as well as all that is credible in early national history the Russian associates with Moscow, and feels what the stranger cannot be made to perceive, may even fail to comprehend, for the outward and visible sign of the living spirit that actuates the Church is but faint and imperfect, even as performance is so often but an inadequate rendering of intention. Although the sanctity of Moscow may not be apparent to the unorthodox, the observer will expect some characteristics of motive to stand revealed in externals. But to the uninitiated the ritual of the Russian Church is bewildering, and the true significance of such symbols as are exhibited in ecclesiastical architecture and ornament is likely to be missed by over accentuating the importance of whatever may be unusual. For many, who are quite ignorant of its tenets and practice, the Eastern Church has an irresistible fascination; the danger is that these, on a first acquaintance will over-praise such details as they may appreciate and too hastily condemn others they may not rightly comprehend, and fail to arrive at a just conclusion by means of further study when no longer attracted by the novelty of the subject. To confine oneself to the consideration of externals is insufficient, being tantamount to the act of one who, absolutely ignorant of card games, endeavours to obtain an idea of the amusement derived from their play by careful examination of the accurate printing and careful finish of certain cards in the pack. On the other hand an attempt to convey by words alone an accurate idea of the full teaching of the Eastern Church is foredoomed to failure, and the most that can be done is to indicate the broad lines of the policy that has actuated it, and risk such errors as must accrue from possible mistranslations of meaning.

All Christian races treasure some legend as to the conversion of their forefathers by one of the Apostles. The Russians are no exception, and, in any event, the introduction of Christianity into their country took place in the heroic age.

“Novgorod, a city of great antiquity, having been founded by Rha, a grandson of Noah and son of Japhet, was visited by the Apostle St Andrew who wished to preach the gospel. The people would not listen to him, and having disrobed the saint threw him bound into a scalding bath. The saint distressed, and almost suffocated by the vapour, called out ‘ιδρωσα’ (I sweat), whence the name Russia. Other histories state that the conversion of the race took place some thousand years later, when, strange as it may appear, the Polyans were first called Russ, as some think from ‘ros,’ the old German name for ‘horse.’ There is a tradition that Vladimir the Great, having conquered fresh territory, became tired of his pagan gods and expressed a desire to embrace a newer faith. With the Christianity of Rome he would have nothing to do, for, he said, his relations in the west had embraced that, and yet were always at war and without good fortune. The Karaïm Jews of South Russia wished to convert him, but when he learned that they were exiled from the land of their fathers and had no country of their own, he refused, saying they were receiving the harvest of their sins and that he had no wish to cause his people to share their punishment. Then hearing that at Constantinople another religion was professed he sent delegates thither to observe and judge whether or not it would suit him. These Russians were astonished at the many lights in the temple; were moved by the singing and the stately procession of deacons, sub-deacons and others to and from the sacristy, and, particularly, at the humble manner in which the people prostrated themselves when the priests appeared. The ritual they did not understand and asked their guides what it all meant. ‘All that we have seen,’ they said, ‘is awful and majestic, but what seems to us supernatural is the young men who have white wings and dazzling robes, and cry “Holy! Holy! Holy!” in mid-air—this truly surprises us.’ ‘What?’ answered the guides, ‘do you not know that angels come down from heaven to our services?’ ‘You are right,’ said the Russians; ‘it is enough—more we do not wish to see; let us return to our country and tell of that which we have already seen.”

If the early chronicles may be trusted, the Bible was first translated into Slavic by Cyril and Methodius, two Greek monks of Byzantium, about the year 863, and so prior to the advent of the Norseman Rurik. In all probability, the faith was spread by proselytising clergy, in part helped by the devotion of the noble women of Byzantium who wedded with the savage Ros, and from the first was wholly independent of the civil power.

Of persecution there was little; Kiev furnished one Vœrœger martyr, and, as elsewhere among heathen, the Christian religion appears to have been readily embraced. Before the Kremlin was raised, before Moscow was, the church was represented on the banks of the Moskva by the little wooden chapel “spass na Boru.” Ivan Kalita was one of the first to recognise the usefulness of the church as an adjunct to civil and military power; he made priests not only welcome in Moscow but all important there. How the reigning princes caused the church in Moscow to rival in authority that of Kiev and, later, to attain supremacy throughout Russia, has already been stated. Of equal importance to the work initiated by any Tsar were the services of St Sergius, founder of the great monastery at Troitsa, which at one time possessed immense tracts of land and owned more than 100,000 serfs. Sergius was born at Great Rostov, and in his youth passed some time near Moscow, and later, having a dozen disciples and the aid of the Patriarch of Constantinople, helped greatly the colonisation of Russia by sending out monks trained at Troitsa. He lived the life of a hermit, and even when abbot did his full share of the menial labour. A commonly seen picture represents him as an old man seated on a rough bench sharing his piece of bread with a bear. Then came St Peter, an apostle sent from Macedonia, who, as a sign “passed through the fire” uninjured; after converting many he settled at Kiev and was of great assistance to George Danielovich in raising the clerical status of Moscow, and to his “incorruptible remains” many miracles are attributed. A large number of relics assigned to him are still preserved in the Uspenski Sobor and the sacristy of the Patriarchs. Next in importance to Moscow was Alexis, the Metropolitan, afterwards canonised. From the earliest times, the clergy, living the life of the people and not that of the military caste, had great influence with citizens and peasants: many times the church has raised the spirit of the nation when oppressed by foreign invaders. It spurred on Ivan III. to overthrow the Mongol rule, and stirred up the people to repulse the Poles and secure national independence. One source of its power has been the use of the vernacular in all services; the church most certainly during the centuries of Tartar dominion also preserved the Slavic tongue from foreign dialects. The clergy have always held it their chief duty to pass on to their successors their faith as they received it. Schism is not tolerated; the slightest modification of ritual is forbidden. The Metropolitans of Moscow were long able to preserve the independence of the church against the encroachments of the reigning princes; Ivan the Terrible’s chief plaint against the clergy was that they exercised their privilege of forbidding the execution of those whom he had condemned to death. Boris Godunov gave Moscow a Patriarch, and added to the power of the church by appointing seven of the clergy to seats in the States Council. When, in 1615, the Tsar Michael met his father, the Patriarch Philaret, on the banks of the Pressenaia (near the Drogomilov Bridge) both bowed low and remained long recumbent, unwilling that either should consider the head of the church superior or inferior to the head of the state. From that time until Philaret’s death in 1639 father and son practically ruled conjointly. Nikon was scarce content to be the equal of his sovereign, and ranked the church above the state: he fell. Peter the Great scornfully suppressed the Patriarchate, but did not arrogate to himself the powers of the head of the church, substituting a synod to be elected from the hierarchy he himself appointed. So it remains to the present day, the reigning monarch having no right, from his position, to interfere in spiritual affairs, yet still controlling the administration of church law.

In matters of belief the Eastern church nearly approaches the Anglican, the main divergence is that whereas the Anglican and Roman churches agree that the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Father and the Son, the Eastern Church holds that it proceeds from the Father only. The bible may be read; the church may interpret its teaching, “for the traditions of the church have been maintained uncorrupted through the influence of the Holy Spirit.” God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, “perfectly equal in nature and dignity,” may alone be worshipped; but homage may be paid to the Virgin Mary, and reverence shown to the saints, to ikons and to relics. That this may not be abused, bishops at their consecration are requested to promise that “honour shall be shown to God only, not to the sacred ikons, and that no false miracle shall be ascribed to them.... The moshi or incorruptible remains which are so greatly venerated, are the corpses of those long dead, whose burial-place has been forgotten and is made known by a supernatural manifestation. These remains must not be subject to the ordinary process of decay, and may possess such virtue as to miraculously cure the sick—which is the quality usually attributed to them.”

The ecclesiastical architecture of Moscow, or of Russia, is not so complex as it appears to be at first sight; originally the place for Christian worship was but a square log-hut; add an apse at the east end, cover the building with a dome roof supporting a cross to indicate its sacred character, and the external structure of the primitive church is complete. Instead of a dome roof it was found easier, as larger buildings became necessary, to cover with the dome only the centre of the church, which was still further elevated to make more prominent the dome and cross denoting the purpose of the building. Three apses, symbolic of the Trinity, took the place of one; five and seven are sometimes found. When the idea of the original whole dome roof was expressed by four small domes arranged around the higher central one, the model became the permanent type from which all other forms have been elaborated. The primitive type is best exemplified in the church of St Michael within the Chudov monastery, but the cathedrals of the Assumption and of the Archangels, on the Sobornia Ploshchad of the Kremlin, will serve equally well to illustrate the permanent form. The origin and development of the bulbous dome, as well as the size, position and number of secondary domes, may be traced by comparing the various old churches in South Russia, and those of wood, formerly or at present existing in “wooden” Russia. For this purpose a convenient series of framed drawings is to be found on stands in Room β of the Historical Museum. They confirm what has already been stated in the preceding chapter, concerning the origin of Russian architecture, and show that the number of domes—some churches have seventeen, if not more—is immaterial, since all should be so arranged as to increase the importance of the central one. Those in which all are equal in size and height—as the roof over the chapels of the Terem—are quite exceptional. The chief modification arose from the necessity of preserving the structure and its valued contents from the great cold of the winter and the excessive moisture of the summer. To overcome the first difficulty the church was surrounded with a gallery; to obviate the second the floor of the church raised to a higher storey; when the two were combined as in many churches of the sixteenth and seventeenth century, some elaboration of proaulion and Kriltso was natural. The best specimens of this class are the churches of St Nicholas of the Great Cross on the Ilyinka, and of the Assumption on the Pokrovka; the ordinary design is that of the porches and approach to Vasili Blajenni, and of the Blagovieshchenski Sobor before the ground was raised to its present level.

The belfry, a somewhat late comer to the Russian church, was usually a separate building adjacent to, but not a component part of, the church itself. When masonry superseded wood, the old designs were for the most part retained: so possibly the only other important point of general application is the subsequent employment of the tapering spire—and its modifications of superposed arches, etc.—to support the dome and cross, instead of the cylindrical shaft peculiar to Russian architecture, which last was evidently derived from round towers of very remote origin. The windows are small and unimportant—often mere oblong slits in the wall—and, though the accepted form admits of little modification towards the elaboration of elegance and grace in the design, and the decoration is limited by the ecclesiastical objection to carved figures—and climatic conditions which preclude the employment of projecting mouldings and all fine work in high relief—the brilliant colouring and mural decorations of plane surfaces convey an impression of richness, which, combined with the absence of the usual and conspicuousness of strange decorations, magnify the whole, in many instances, into the resemblance of whatever the imagination may picture as most ornate and brilliant.