Tag: Molokan

A Message to Relatives

by Alexei N. Chernoff

Towards the end of his life, Doukhobor Alexei Nikolayevich Chernoff (1877-1967) set to writing his experiences as a young military reservist during the “Burning of Arms” in Russia 1895. Reproduced by permission from the pages of “The Brothers Chernoff from Azerbaijan to Canada” (Winnipeg: December 1992) this article is a wonderful example of our rich Doukhobor oral tradition, now preserved in writing for future generations. Translated by Fred J. Chernoff.

I, Alexei Nikolayevich Chernoff, had the desire to write to my relatives about our past, that part that is still in my memory. My parents were Nikolai Timofeyevich and Anna Semenovna Chernov. My mother’s family were the Popovs. In our family there were six sons: Aliosha (Alexei), Mikola (Nikolai), Vanya (Ivan), Fedya (Feodor), Misha (Mikhail) and Andrusha (Andrei). The parents were neither poor or rich. Their occupation was with farmland and they owned cattle, horses, sheep, chickens, geese and ducks – all in small numbers. There also lived with us two brothers of my father whose names were Danilushka (Danila) and Mikisha (Mikifor). My father Nikolai was the eldest brother. In total there were 23 people living together and all ate at one table. At first we lived well and were happy. This was in Russia, the Caucasus, the village of Slavyanka in the Elizavetpol province (present-day Republic of Azerbaijan).

Alexei Nikolaevich Chernoff (1877-1967)

As children we grew up and soon started to help our parents with the work. When I reached the age of 17, my parents decided to marry me off. They had arranged for the daughter of a rich family by the name of Verigin, whose name was Paranya (Praskovia) Nikolayevna. Both of our families were happy about this arrangement. Our lives became happy and joyful. This happened shortly after the death of the former leader of the Doukhobors, Lushechka (Lukeria) Kalmykova. Her place was taken by Peter Vasilyevich Verigin. Not all the Doukhobors accepted him as the new leader. In opposition a group emerged and began to pass information to the government. Peter Verigin was arrested, tried and exiled to Siberia.

At this time, the young men from 21 of age were called by the government for service in the army, and because of an error by my parents, I was one of the people called. I was given a (reserve) document indicating that I had to appear to serve when it was my turn. This came at the time the Doukhobors started to refuse service in the army. As I was not yet 21 years of age, by law I should not be called into the service. During the last census, believing that they would save me from the army, my parents had added 3 years to my age. Because of this entry in the census, I was now called into the military service. My father appealed to the military command to nullify the call. The officer in command asked if there were any records of the birth of your son. My father answered no. The officer then replied that, the order to serve cannot be nullified, but he added not be afraid that he would not be called for the time being. This is how the matter ended. They didn’t take me into the army, but my name was left on the list for future call.

In 1895, a call came from Siberia from Peter V. Verigin, that the Doukhobors show by action their opposition to service in the army. He ordered all of his followers to burn their arms and guns. The men who were drafted for service went to the officials and turned in their call papers. They informed the officials that they will no longer serve in the army.

On June 29, 1895 was the celebration of Peters Day. On the night before, the Doukhobors secretly collected all of their guns and burned them. This stirred up the government officials, and they started an investigation as to why this burning occurred. Next morning another event furthur antagonized the government officials against the Doukhobors. The young draftees started to hand in their call papers and advised that they will no longer take part in serving in the army. I too, went to turn in my papers, along with 60 other draftees. We were all arrested and placed in jail cells. Our parents were also arrested for influencing the young men. Without giving us an opportunity for a farewell, we were marched to Elizavetpolski prison. That ended our happy life. My dear relatives, it was difficult to part with our family – my mother, my 5 brothers, and my dear wife and son Nikolai. I was young, and God gave me strength to bear this sorrow. My father and I stayed in jail for 5 months. Then along with others we were sent to Kozakh prison. Our parents, the older people were sent to Siberia. Part of their trip was by water and here my father got sick. The ship doctor was unable to help him. Upon landing he was sent to hospital where he passed away. The date was August 17, 1895. He had nobody with him when he died and the news of his passing did not reach us for 6 months.

In Kozakh prison were 65 draftees who had refused to serve and had turned in their papers. In prison, life was not all that bad. We were allowed to exercise, sing and pray to God. They gave us a kitchen, and we had 2 cooks amongst us to board ourselves. Life went well. One thing that bothered us was fever, as the climate was favorable to this illness. Everyone was sick from this except myself. We stayed in that prison for about a year and one-half. 

In August 1897, the government decided to send us to the Yerevan region to settle among the Tartars. We notified our relatives that we were being exiled. Our relatives came to a meeting in prison, and the government permitted this. We were glad to see them and they were glad to see us. After the first meeting, we were allowed to meet with them the next day. Soon after, we were all counted, put into a convoy and started on our journey. We called to our people for the last time a good-bye and to forgive us. We marched to Yerevan over a 7 day period. In the month of August, the weather was warm and dry and we thanked God that we reached our destination safely. Nobody was sick on the way. Again we were imprisoned, and due to the lack of room inside, we were kept outside of the prison. They allowed us our own kitchen and gave all that we required. They kept us here for 12 days. Here some of our comrades were distributed to the Tartar villages and the rest of us, about 13 people, were sent further to Nakhichevan. 

Again, we were marched through the valleys of the Caucasian mountains for 5 days. On the way, we were given time to rest. The valleys were very hot and the people in this area raised fruit. I was attracted by grapes growing so I picked a bunch and ate them. Shortly after I became sick and became cold and shivering. It appeared that I had the same malaria fever that attacked the other comrades. Every day at the same time I got the shivers. We reached Nakhichevan and were distributed 2 to a village. My partner was Nikolai Fedorovich Salykin. He was much older than myself and had already served in the army. But he was in prison because he turned in his military service papers. Because he was older than myself, he took advantage of me and made me serve him. The village was known a Karabahli. It was a large village and the people were kind and courteous. They provided a well lit room and slowly we got used to our surroundings. We knew their language and soon found a job cutting hay. They paid us a fair wage and did not mistreat us. Their women baked us bread which was very tasty. Here we lived for a year.

One day a Russian doctor visited our village, and I turned to him with my illness. He examined me and told me to appear at the hospital in his village. He ordered that I be released with a guard. We walked 50 verst (kilometers). There he gave me a mixture of quinine and shortly thereafter the fever left me completely. I got well, but the doctor kept me there for 2 weeks. In that time I helped in the house and looked after his little girl. The doctor asked me to stay with him, but I refused and went back to my friends. 

Shortly thereafter, our relatives decided to visit us. My Uncle Danilushka decided to ride horseback to our place and invited a Tartar to accompany him. I was very glad to see my Uncle Danilushka. He passed regards from my family, told me how they lived and how they had safely traveled to see me. Thank God. After supper my friend Salykin decided to invite a town official. The official came and with him were 2 policemen. He asked my Uncle whether he had a permit to travel. At that time, every person had to have permission to travel from one place to another in Russia. Danilushka did not have such a permit. The official did not say anything and went back to his room. Shortly thereafter, the official arrested our guest Danilushka and took him away. Next morning, he and his friend were marched to Nakhichevan prison. The horses were left with us. This is how my Uncle visited me at this time. I wondered what to do with the horses and discussed this with a regional official. He sent me to the prison where my Uncle was held and he requested that they not be sold. He wanted them sent back to his village. This request was sent back to the official who became irrate, and sent me to see someone else with authority. An order was given that the horses be given to the local villagers. Nobody wanted them, so I kept the horses. Feed was obtained for the horses till my Uncle Mikisha came and took them away. Later my Uncle Danilushka and his friend had walked back to their village from which they came. All this we lived through. The people here were good, gave us feed for the horses, and helped us in many ways.

In 1899 we were freed. We hired a Molokan, and he drove us to the station Astafoo. By this time we joined a group who were migrating to Canada and were on their way to Batum. Our relatives were already at Batum, and met us after 3 years of separation. I cannot describe this meeting. My mother especially, thanked God that her son Aliosha came back safe and sound. My relatives kissed me and could not believe that I was their Aliosha.

On February 16, 1899 we started boarding the ship. The passage across the ocean was difficult. The ocean was rough but we reached Canada, at Halifax, on the 9th day of March, 1899. We unloaded on a large (quarantine) island. There they gave us a bath and vaccinated us. We stayed there several days, boarded a ship and reached St. John. Here we were loaded onto a train and sent west to Manitoba – Winnipeg, Selkirk and Brandon – where they had places for us. It was still winter and there was a lot of snow. After a while, we were sent to Yorkton, Saskatchewan and from there we went by sleigh to the village of Verovka where they had built long barns. In these barns we spent the remainder of the winter. Spring came and the warm weather with it. Then they started to sort families, who would want to live in the same villages. Everyone was organized into villages and our village was Sovetnoye. It was north-west of the village of Veregin. Here we started our Canadian life.

Doukhobor Village in Saskatchewan, 1902

At this time we had no farming facilities and just set up tents in the middle of the field. The stronger men were sent out to look for jobs and the older men and women began building. They dug and started building sod houses. They were plastered inside and dried outside so to be livable. This was in 1899. Towards fall the workers started coming home and had a place to winter. We had a lot of wood for fuel and wintered well. In the spring we started to get ready to look for work again. Some stayed home to improve the facilities. By then, the village had one horse and several cows, so we had milk for the children. This was 1900. We started planting gardens and getting ready for the next winter. We started to accumulate the necessary equipment, plowing the land and seeding oats. The crops were very good and the times were getting better. We all lived in a commune and had a happy life. I was elected senior in our village and had control of the money. 

In 1902, near Christmas, Peter “Lordly” Verigin came to Canada. All Doukhobors were glad of his coming. He visited the villages and met everyone. He advised the people to live a communal life and nearly everyone took his advice. He started to buy cattle and horses and allocated them among the villages. After some time in the communities, a misunderstanding arose with the Canadian government regarding the registration of land ownership and taking the oath of allegiance. Then, Peter Verigin decided to move some Doukhobors to British Columbia. Land was purchased for orchards, and nearly all of the people of the community were transplanted to British Columbia. Our family, the Chernoffs, including the 6 brothers and my 2 sons, stayed on the Khutor ranch near the town of Veregin. The ranch had been well stocked with cattle and horses and the animals were worth a lot of money. Peter Verigin delegated the Chernoffs to look after this property. My brother Nikolai was a tabunchik (“horse trainer”) and I was delegated to look after the stallions. The rest of the brothers looked after the land and planted the grain. The grain amounted to over 30,000 bushels. In the winter we looked after the livestock. We lived under the leadership of Peter “Lordly” Verigin for twelve years, up until the time of his death. He always favored us and was kind.

During October 1927, the other Verigin arrived. The Doukhobors were glad of his coming and soon he started to change procedures and practices. We started to live according to his plans and what he wanted. The time passed and then, he too died. After that, the whole community broke apart. Everyone started to live independently and that’s the way it is now. However, there are a group who are organized under the name of the Union of Christian Communities of Christ.

Dear relatives, the time is fleeing and the memory of relatives and friends is disappearing. My mother died in 1934, and my wife Paranya died in 1950. I myself am 87 years old and nearing the end of my life. I have decided to leave my remembrance of our previous life, and how and why we came to Canada. My sincere desire is that you live in a Doukhobor society and carry out all of the teachings for the well being of ourselves and future offspring. Guard all the time our Doukhobor faith.

Your Father, Grandfather, Great Grandfather, Your Brother and Your Uncle,

Alexei Nikolayevich Chernoff
Veregin, Saskatchewan
September 12, 1964

Categories
Biographical Stories and Articles

My Beautiful Sons – Why Did You Have to Die?

My Beautiful Sons – Why Did You Have to Die?

by Akim A. Fominov

In the 1890’s, hundreds of young Doukhobor men endured persecution and suffering as a result of their refusal to perform military service. The following is a true, first person account of Doukhobor Akimushka A. Fominov’s visits to where his two sons were exiled for denouncing military service and surrendering their army tickets. Reproduced by permission from the pages of ISKRA Nos. 1915-1916 (Grand Forks: U.S.C.C., 2001) it features the struggles and tragedies that occurred during that time. Recorded by William A. Faminow. Translated by Vera Kanigan

I

After surrendering their army tickets and denouncing military service because of their newly declared pacifist beliefs, Vanya (Ivan) Fominov and Grisha (Grigory) Gorkov were first arrested and then placed in prison in the Kars Region. Soon thereafter, they were led on foot to Tiflis where they were exiled to the Tartar villages close to a place called Agdash.

On the way to Agdash, the military horsemen herded them 40 kilometers on foot, attempting to cover this distance in one day. The young men were humble and obedient, walking diligently. It was very hot, and they got extremely sunburned and thirsty. Coming upon a creek by the road, they drank with great zeal – they were unaware that the water was not suitable for drinking. When they had arrived at the designated place of the wealthy Becka (officer who looked after exiled people) it would not have been too bad, as he gave them adequate quarters; however, shortly after, they both turned very ill. They wrote to the Fominov family and explained their situation. I, Akimushka Fominov (Ivan’s father), decided to secretly go to visit them.

When I arrived, I tried to make them as comfortable as possible and looked after their needs before returning home. After some time, they wrote once again, telling me that their illnesses had continued, and indeed, gotten worse. This time I invited my daughter-in-law Masha (Ivan’s wife) to accompany me.

When we got off at the last train station, we were supposed to walk another 40 verst (kilometers) on foot. Here I asked my daughter-in-law to dress in a man’s attire, as the road was very remote, frightening and open to all kinds of occurrences. This precaution of ours was very wise as two Tartars happened to catch up to us on horseback, and with suspicion, asked us many questions.

By the time we arrived at the young men’s living quarters, the sun had already set. Grisha Gorkov sat beside the house leaning against the wall, apparently feeling very sick and not even noticing us until we came up very close. As we walked closer, the thought went through our heads, “God, why are you young people suffering here, as you have not done any evil to anyone in the world?”

My son Vanya was in the house and he looked a bit more cheerful. We did not waste much time in pleasantries but immediately tended to the tasks at hand. I went to see the Becka and took from him a kettle and started to heat water for a bath as they had been eaten up by lice. First of all we bathed Grisha and then Vanya and then we boiled their clothes to get rid of the lice.

In the morning Grisha looked more cheerful and asked me if I could arrange to move him to another village – Kietkeshen. This village was eight or nine kilometers from Agdash and they had good water and a more tolerable climate. In that village were two more exiled young Doukhobors – Feodor Ivanovich and Nikolai Vasilievich Tikhonov. I went to address this request to the Becka. He agreed and sent a Tartar on a bullock-cart to transfer Grisha and his belongings. I went with Grisha and helped him settle in with the Tikhonovs and then returned to my son and daughter-in-law. We discussed with my son that we needed to return home, so we proceeded to arrange our return trip. But Vanya’s health had not improved, and he asked us not to leave him alone. His wife, Masha, decided to stay with him for the winter while I returned home. I agreed to come for her in the early spring. 

Burning of Arms, June 29, 1895. Painting by Terry McLean.

When I came back to the village on February 25th, I spent some time with Vanya and Masha and then walked to visit Grisha Gorkov. Grisha appeared a bit more cheerful this time, but both Grisha and our son Vanya’s health was not very encouraging. When March came, we decided to travel home to the Kars Region. Vanya became very despondent but said: “Once you have decided, do not delay your plans: I will accompany you to Agdash.”

I then went and asked the Becka if he would allow for such a plan. The Becka agreed and even gave us a horse for Vanya to ride on. When we woke up in the morning, preparing for our return trip, Vanya appeared very ill. He hardly ate anything for breakfast, drinking only half a cup of tea. We started to talk about postponing our trip, but Vanya would not agree to this, and we proceeded on our journey.

Vanya rode horseback, and we walked on foot. By the time we arrived at Agdash, our young man turned worse, swaying on the horse, and when we helped him off the horse, he lay down and was unable to walk on his own. We were unable to leave him alone, so I decided to find temporary living quarters. I was unable to find anything. The only place where there was vacancy was in a small hut where a single woman, a Kazonian Tartar, resided. She agreed to allow us to lay Vanya on her porch providing that Vanya’s wife would look after him, as to leave a single man with her would be viewed questionably by the surrounding residents. She made a living by doing laundry in the region, and if people would hold her in suspicion, her source of income could cease. 

We were glad even with this porch, laid Vanya there, and then I proceeded to find the village doctors. They prescribed medicine that did not help at all, so we decided to transport Vanya back to the Tartar village of Agdash. To our good fortune at this time, a Tartar from his village was here on a bullock cart. For three rubles, he agreed to take Vanya, cautioning us that he would travel very slowly, as that is how his buffalo are accustomed, and he did not want to ruin them. 

After travelling all night, we arrived in the morning. My ill son had turned worse and passed away on the second evening. I went to tell the Becka about what had happened. He sympathized and asked, “What are your plans now?” I replied that we want to bury him according to our own tradition, and therefore, needed to make a coffin.  He gave us some boards and sent a Tartar somewhere for the tools. He also sent another rider to Kietkeshen to get the Tikhonov cousins to come and help with the burial.  The rider returned quickly and said that half way to the village he met up with a messenger from Kietkeshen, sent to inform us that Grisha Gorkov had died as well – he was on his way to tell us that we should go there to help with that burial! 

We buried my son on our own. Even though the tools were not adequate, somehow we were able to cut the boards and nail the coffin together. The Tartars dug out a grave at the place where we requested. The police officer came, offered his sympathy, wished him to enter God’s Heavenly Kingdom, and left. With the help of the Tartars, we lowered the coffin into the grave and covered the body with dirt, while I said a prayer for my dear son: “Please accept his innocent soul into Your Everlasting Abode, as this sacrifice was offered for the adherence to the great commandment, “Thou Shalt Not Kill…” 

Upon returning to our quarters, I asked my daughter-in-law to assemble the clothes and belongings in order so that I could go to Kietkeshen to see if they buried Grisha Gorkov. When I had arrived and asked the Tikhonovs about Grisha, I was told that Grisha had died the same morning; and unbeknownst to me at the time, at the same hour and at the same minute as our son Vanya. I stayed a while at the Tikhonovs, then gathered Grisha’s belongings and returned to my flat.

When we got ready for our return trip home, we realized that we had too many items for us to carry and went to the district police officer to request permission to give us a ride. He did not allow us to take Grisha’s clothes, as according to the law, they were required to be returned by mail. When I objected, he said: “Aren’t you satisfied with all that I have allowed already?” My orders from my superiors were not to permit you to even make contact, but you were here and even lived here. If the authorities learn this, I will be fired from my position! I need to feed myself!”

I did not pursue my request any further, but thanked him for all of his concessions and left. Without Grisha’s belongings, we were able to proceed on foot. On the way, we stopped at the Becka’s quarters. His Matushka almost cried at Masha’s leaving because she had been a big help to her while looking after her husband Ivan.

When we arrived at Agdash, we realized that we didn’t have enough money to go by train. To our good fortune, however, Molokan carriers were travelling to Alexandropol and they agreed to take us along. On the way, they stopped in their village, Voskresenovka right on Sunday. We all attended moleniye (prayer service) together. These were the steadfast Molokans. They were not jumpers. Their Father Superior read the psalm: “Listen, King of Everlasting Glory.”

When we arrived with the Molokan at the town where we were supposed to get off, and we started to give them the promised 1 1/2 rubles, he took into consideration our hardship and did not accept any payment. We thanked him sincerely from the bottom of our hearts and bade him farewell.

From the town we traveled home with our neighbour. Our relatives gathered to meet us but all we brought with us was unbearable pain. Everyone who came cried and expressed their sorrow for Vanya. Only his very own mother, and my wife, did not shed a single tear, but paced around the house, whispering and praying to God…

II

My son, Fedya, for refusal to serve in the army along with others, was sent to the disciplinary battalion at the Ekaterinogradskiy prison. We received a letter from him that they were badly beaten for the second time; that is, they were whipped with birch rods. Military officers were trying to change their minds about serving in the army, and we heard that they decided to obey by using some of the firearms.

For that reason, I decided to travel and find out for myself how they were and what was being done to them, as many elders, both men and women, begged me to go there as soon as possible. They said that I had a son there and I would be allowed to speak to him. I decided not to put this off, gathered my belongings, bade farewell to my family and went on my journey. I travelled with my neighbour as far as the town of Aleksandropol and immediately came to the post office and asked the postmaster when the mail would be leaving. He told me that in a 1/2 hour it will leave to Delezan and that I can go with the driver in the wagon. I was happy with this arrangement.

I sat down and we left on our way. When we arrived at the train station, I got on board and traveled to the city of Tiflis. There, I had a chance to see many brethren (Kholodenskiye). They were dispersed among the Georgian villages. I had an opportunity to speak to several of them, and I learned that with the majority of them, their situation was very dismal.

I continued my trek further, from here to Dushet, travelling by train. From Dushet I traveled on the letter-carrying horses, over the Kazbetskiye mountains to Vladikavkaz, then by train to Prakhladnoe. From there, I went by horseback to Ekateringradskoye station, where the prison was located and where my son Fedya was being held in the disciplinary battalion. In the station there lived mainly Leninskiye Cossacks. I entered my former quarters where I had once previously stayed.

Group of Russian Prisoners with Heads Half-Shaven, circa 1890’s Photo by John Foster Fraser.

The proprietors welcomed me pleasantly and said: ” So, Starichok (“Elder”), have you come to visit your lads?” I replied that, yes, I want to see them. They said: “This is the situation, old man, that we need to tell you. Please do something about your lads. Ask them to serve in the army like everyone else, or ask the authorities not to punish them so harshly, or approach the Tsar himself so that he could arrange some sort of lenience or pardon. Just a short while ago they were so harshly beaten and tortured that they screamed and cried with inhumane sounds. It is getting to the point where it is impossible for us to stay here, as their cries break our hearts. At this station reside five hundred families, and the last time nearly all of us moved three kilometers away just so that we couldn’t hear their heartbreaking screams…” I replied that I’ve come here for that very reason, to speak to the lads and the authorities. At this time I went to the fortress.

From a distance, I noticed that six people sat on the roof of a new building, which was part of the prison stronghold. They were covering the roof. I walked up closer to the gate of the fortress and saw a soldier walking away, carrying a garbage pail. Behind him was a corporal. I walked up closer and started to greet them loudly. “Good day, countryman! Are any of our Doukhobors here?” The sentry man answered: “Certainly not!”

Apparently, those who were on the roof heard me and when I looked up, I noticed that there were only five of them, as one of them had already left. He ran and climbed along the wall of the fortress and started to greet me. It was Lukyan Fedorovich Novokshonov. He immediately started to say: “Akimushka, I beg you, please leave from here immediately. Do not even show yourself to the officials. They are extremely angry right now. The other day they tortured us almost to the point of death. We barely survived. They told us that if any of your hometown people come here for a visit, we will also rip a strip out of them and will deport them home like convicts. ” I gave him some money and said that it is to share with those in need. He jumped off the wall and ran away from me. I looked up and there he was, once again, sitting on the roof in his own place. Obviously, he was afraid of being noticed.

He frightened me so much that I stood still for a long time, contemplating my next step. What should I do now? Should I listen to Lukyan and return home? But everyone would gather and ask me: “How are the lads, what is with them?” I would have to tell them that someone warned me not to show myself to the officials for they would tear me apart, and therefore, I was too afraid to stay. What will my people say then? The lads are so young and are enduring such extreme torture -“for whom and for what? For our common cause, and you, old man, are running away?” I thought to myself, “let them flog and cut me up in small pieces, but I must speak with them in person.”

It was Friday evening. I went back to my quarters and almost all night thought about my situation. How could I arrange it so that the officials would not suspect me and catch me?

On Saturday morning I woke up, washed myself, prayed to God and then went to the fortress, thinking that I may see one of the lads. I stayed quite a while, not too far from the gate of the fortress and not seeing anyone walk out. I checked around from another wall, thinking that someone may be there. In one place were a group of soldiers. I walked closer to them and noticed that they were digging dirt. I didn’t know for what purpose. Two officials walked up to me, very quickly, and immediately started to say: “Did you know Mikhail Shcherbinin?” I answered that although I did not know him personally, my son had written me about him, stating that he was ill. They replied, pointing: “Do you see those black gates, that is a cemetery. Remember, he will be there soon! Do you know Fominov and Malakhov? We will build them coffins as well for they are very stubborn. But in this group, (pointing to someone), one of your Doukhobors, since he came to this battalion, has not received even one whipping.”

He stood there smiling and I thought to myself, “Fominov is my own son, and you are such hypocrites, you want to take one to the cemetery, and for the others, you wish to build coffins, and the other one is laughing.” Then I spoke up: “Aren’t you afraid to punish innocent people? You should fear God,” They replied: “Here no one speaks of God, they only say hit and whip… We simply obey our commands.”

I did not continue this conversation and went back to my place. As I was walking, I thought to myself -”as if no one speaks about God?” Here, in this fortress, stands a church, one that is called “Orthodox”. Our lads were forcefully driven there, that is, as if they had strayed from God’s path. Where should there be more conversations about God than in this church? At that point, a thought came to me to enter this church and there, hopefully, see my lads, but I couldn’t figure out the way to get inside.

I approached the store to buy some bread. It was possible to buy some good bread there, as well as watermelons. Several area villagers were also in the store. I started to ask them whether they attend the prison church. They answered yes, some of them do attend. I said that I wanted to attend the church but had no idea as to the procedure. They suggested that tomorrow was Sunday and when others start to assemble, that I could join them and walk inside. I went back to my room and didn’t go anywhere else. I lay down to sleep early, but couldn’t sleep as I kept thinking about how to attend the church and how I could see my son. I woke up way before dawn, washed up and went to the fortress. There I stopped and stood and waited for the people to arrive.

It seemed to me that I stood and waited there the whole night. Finally, the church bell tolled and I thought that now people would assemble. I waited and waited but no one came…

Then the bell tolled a second time and still no one came. When daylight arrived, the third bell tolled and I saw one family corning. I walked up to them, thinking that I could walk in with them, but when we walked to the gate, there stood the sentry soldier. He opened the gate, let them in and yelled at me: “You! Stand there! Where are you going?” I answered that I wanted to attend the church service. He said that he could not let me through until he consults the sergeant major. He went to confer with the sergeant as I stood thinking: here I wanted to walk through so that I wouldn’t be noticed, but the sentry went straight to the major, who would order the soldiers to put me in jail. But, so be it, if it is God’s will. I will not run away!

During the time I was waiting, more people assembled. At last the sentry came, opened the door, allowed others through and also told me to enter. I walked with the other residents, thinking, wherever they stand in church, I will stand with them. We entered. The plain folk stood on the left and the soldiers stood on the right. Everyone looked at the priest who waved the censer and read something. When he would say “Amen”, the soldiers knelt on their knees and our boys remained standing. Doing so, I was able to see the boys, and my son Fedya, but they kept looking straight ahead, not even glancing to the side. I thought to myself, you poor soldiers, you are under strict discipline, even in church. I started to think of a way to move closer to the front, so that the lads could notice me for the moleniye would end soon. They would be taken to the back and they wouldn’t even know that I was here. I started to slowly and inconspicuously move forward.

I hardly moved a half-meter when an officer on duty called out from the back: “Leave the church at once! You came here not to view the church, but to see your lads.” I begged his forgiveness and said that I simply was not aware of their procedures, that when we have visitors at our moleniye, we do not restrict their movement, nor do we tell people where to look or not to look. He once again sternly warned me that in their church, they have their own rules and that I should follow their procedures. I promised to do so, and he left me alone. As a result of this argument, our lads clearly recognized me, and when the church service concluded, and the soldiers left, our boys came over to me, walked by, greeted me, and said, “Thank God, we are still alive!” My son rushed up to me, said that he was okay, and continued walking after the others, not stopping for a moment. I went outside and looked sadly upon them and thought – “I sure have heard lots about God, and was almost beaten on the neck! I didn’t even have a chance to get a good look at my son because they were driven away. What sort of a place is this Russian Orthodox Church?”

I stood and glanced around. I noticed that I was not too far away from a large house where a man in an overcoat was pacing on the balcony. At that moment the sergeant major came up to me, and simultaneously, I heard a loud voice blare out from somewhere near the balcony: “Well, old man, do you want to see your son now or after dinner?” I realized then that I had not remained unnoticed. I thought to myself, “Let whatever happens, happen. I am already in their hands!” and replied, “If possible, right now.” The sergeant major said: “Okay, I will relay this to the colonel.” 

The colonel turned out to be the fellow pacing on the balcony, and I overheard him say that a Doukhobor from the Kars region had come and wanted to meet with his son Fedya Fominov. I noticed the colonel waving to me to join him. I came forward, removed my hat, bowed, and said, “The best of health, Gospodin Colonel,” and then placed my hat back on and stood still. At first, he harshly reproached me: “You come here for a visit and then simply confuse your children! Not too long ago an old grey-haired elder like you came from the Kazbetski mountains and do you know what happened? The boys had just started to settle down here and had begun to finally serve, but the old man knocked them off the path of reason, confused them, and they, once again, refused to take up arms! We whipped and ripped strips out of them that they will never forget! Do you know that this is a correctional prison, that not only your lads, but if an angel from heaven were here we would have to make him serve. And you, old man, refuse to submit to authority and the Tsar. You and all your people have been dispersed over all of the Kazbetski Mountains!” 

Russian Prison Warden and Guard, c. 1890. >Photo by John Foster Fraser.

I turned to him and said “Gospodin Colonel, we are not against obeying the will of God, but we are against that which contradicts His will.” Here the colonel started pacing even faster on the balcony, almost running. He walked over to me and hollered: “Tell me, what here is against the will of God?” I noticed that he was very angry, so I decided not to answer, thinking that in this case, silence was the best answer. For quite a while he continued to pace the balcony, cursing and calling me all kinds of names, then he ceased and became calmer. He stopped pacing, turned towards us and addressed the sergeant major: “Go with him and let him meet his son for one hour.” We hadn’t walked more than five steps when he yelled for us to come back. I felt shivers down my spine, thinking that he had changed his mind and would now put me in jail. As we got closer to him he turned to the sergeant major and said: “Let him visit for two hours, one hour is too little. After all, the old man traveled a long distance and the trip cost him money.”

We went to the area where visitors were allowed. The sergeant major told me to wait there while he went to bring my son. Soon after, my son arrived, accompanied by three soldiers. They took us to another room and set us side by side on a bench. One soldier sat beside me and the other sat beside Fedya. The third soldier stood across from us, glancing quite often at his clock. They were instructed to listen to our conversation. In fact, we couldn’t talk about anything confidential. My son simply asked a few questions about news from home and I answered. As soon as the two hours were up, the soldiers got up and led my son away, and I stood for a long time with tears in my eyes, watching as they left. I felt so sorry for the poor lad. All of our boys looked very beaten, and with inadequate nutrition, they had become mere shadows of men.

The thought occurred to me to go to the colonel and ask him where I could purchase a few things to treat our lads. I walked up to his home. The sentry informed him of my coming and he walked outside. I thanked him for allowing me a visit with my son, and then I asked him: “Gospodin Colonel, allow me please to buy some bread and watermelon to treat all of the lads.”

“Absolutely not. I have everything here – bread, borshch, meat, and kasha, and if your lads do not wish to eat these things, that is not my business,” he replied. With this, he concluded his conversation with me, and I walked away from the jail with great sorrow and grief. I thought – “What authorities, they are whipping and beating our sons and won’t even allow us to treat them with bread!”

I went to my quarters, had breakfast and lunch at the same time and then sat down, thinking about what I should do next. Since it was impossible during my visit to discuss the most important issue, I decided to try get a secret meeting with my son. During the last two times I had been within the prison, I noticed that one sergeant major by the name of Zaitsev often left the jail for one reason or another. I decided to go, watch him more closely, and hopefully, talk to him. I walked up to the prison wall, and to my good fortune, he soon came out. Immediately, I went and started to speak to him directly. “Gospodin Zaitsev, could you please arrange a secret meeting for me with my son Fedya A. Fominov?” “If you will give me a ruble, then I will,” he answered. I agreed and we arranged to meet in a large new building in the early morning.

That night I hardly slept, praying that our meeting would pass safely. When I arrived that morning, the non-commissioned officer was already waiting for me with new plans, for the colonel had ordered the new building to be plastered, and therefore, it would not be possible to have the meeting there. He took me to a far corner of the prison grounds where tall weeds grew. He told me to pick some and make a wall so that I would not be seen and then went to go get my son. I made the wall and sat down waiting. Some cattle were grazing nearby and some of the cows came up towards me. At this point I started to worry, thinking that the soldiers would come for the cattle and see me. Here, I would get caught! They would whip and exile me. And that was almost exactly what happened…

A soldier came for the cattle, but because he was deep in thought, he did not pay any attention to me, took the cattle and chased them away, shouting at them to leave. Soon, the non-commissioned officer came, bringing Fedya and Kuzma Pugachev. We exchanged greetings as necessary and then I started to talk. “Before I left home. I met with Vasya Obetkov and he said that if I had a chance to meet with you, that I should advise you if I can. Since it is very difficult to bear the torture of this disciplinary battalion. You lads should concede. When everyone is returned to their own regions, then again they could refuse military service. There in their own regions they will not be subjected to such torture.” 

The lads answered that this plan would not work, as no one is released until they have served their entire sentence in the disciplinary battalion. Then I answered them: “If so, then stick to your convictions, as you are the first detachment (the vanguard) of our people. If you change your direction, the rest of us will surely be shipped through this battalion.” They answered that in spite of the hardships, they would endure suffering as long as they would have the strength.

I further started to tell the lads that when I was getting ready to come here many of the elders wanted details as to the reason why many of our young men were backing down and serving. Somewhere they had heard that one Russian man had been flogged to death, but that he never conceded to them; but none of our lads had, as of yet, died from the flogging. 

When I told our boys about this, both in unison started crying like small children. “We could endure almost everything from the flogging. The pain is unbearable at first, but afterwards, the body becomes wooden and a person loses all feeling. At this point the doctors’ assistants pay closer attention as to how much you can endure. When they see that a person is close to death, they cease the flogging. They rip the meat off your back, then put your clothes back on. They drag you to the punishment cell, pushing you there like an unfortunate animal. In this cell there is no bed and no bench. The floor is cold cement, and one can only lie on the stomach. The clothing freezes, turning to wood. For food, they bring a piece of bread and water. When the wounds heal a bit, the commanders come and tell you to now accept military service, and if you don’t, tomorrow you will be flogged twice as hard. At this point, one, not having any more strength, agrees, telling them, I will pick up a rifle, but we pretend it is just a stick when we agree to serve, and under no circumstances will we kill anything or anyone.

They continued, stating that even if angels from heaven were to come here, they would not be able to endure the punishment and would submit to military service. They told me that if I were to arrive home safely, I should ask the elders to take the brushwood which they use to light a fire and imagine themselves being whipped, as the lads are here. I asked them about those who had totally agreed to serve in the same way as the soldiers. They answered that even though their situation was already unbearable, that this has made it even more difficult. At this point the non-commissioned officer rushed in and told the lads to hurry, it was necessary to go to the colonel. They left with him, and I left the fortress. When I came to my living quarters, I had breakfast, packed my belongings, bade farewell to the proprietors and left on my return home.

I arrived home safely, passed on regards to my family and shared all about my visit in detail. When all the rest of our people assembled, I explained what the lads had told me and passed on regards to their families. Soon after my trip, Nikola Chevildeev went to the disciplinary battalion as well. His son Kiryusha was there. During his time there, a new agreement was made in regards to the imprisoned Doukhobors. A decision was reached that would have all the Doukhobors who were refusing to serve in the military, sent to the Yakutsk Oblast for eighteen years. Therefore, Nikolasha Chevildeev accompanied the lads to Vladikavkaz. The boys were driven further, but Nikolasha returned home.

On the trip to Siberia, our son Fedya had mailed a very sad letter home. “My dear parents, father Akimushka and mother Polyusha, sister-in-law Masha and your son Petya, my dear wife, Anyuta, as well as my children Mavrunya and Malasha, brother Vasya and your wife Tanya, and also my sisters, Hanya and Marfunya, all of our dear Fominov family combined.” 

Siberian Prisoners Starting Up-Country, circa 1890’s. Photo by John Foster Fraser.

“At this time I wish to tell you about myself and about our present life here. My health is very poor. From day to day I feel as if I am drying up like the cut grass in a meadow.”

“What stands before us is a very long walk. Some people say it is more than a thousand verst. We must walk 35-40 verst a day, and when we arrive at the station, they send us to a convicts’ building which is infested by many different insects, especially bed bugs. We must sleep right on the floor, but the bed bugs eat at us all night, not giving us any peace. We have to get up early in the morning and proceed on the trip once again. When I get up and start to dress, my feet are so swollen that I am barely able to pull on my boots, but we must walk another 40 verst.”

“When I lag behind the group the soldiers walk up to me and start to nudge me with the nose of their rifles. They aren’t the ones to blame though. Those to blame are the higher authorities that do not give us more transport carts. The carts are only given to the convicts who are shackled. But even amongst the shackled convicts, there are kind people. When I start to get weak, almost falling down on the road, someone from the group of prisoners gets down off the cart, walks up to me and says, “well brother, I see that you are exhausted. Go to the cart and sit in my place, rest, and I will walk in your place.” Such people support me, and if it weren’t for them, I would long ago have been left alone on the road.”

“My dear family, I beg you, don’t worry about me and don’t feel sorry for me. Even though this trip is extremely difficult, I do not complain, nor am I sorry. Yes, I cannot com plain, for I chose this path myself. After all, our Lord Jesus Christ took the cross and carried it on His back to Golgotha: “He who wants to follow Me, take My cross and follow Me.” On this cross He was crucified. We must also continue without complaining, and with God’s help, we will reach our destination. If something should happen to me on this trip, then this will be the will of our Lord in Heaven. With this I will end my letter. I send you all my love, warm kisses and hugs. Your son, husband, father and brother. Feodor A. Fominov.

III

Following after Fedya’s letter were several other accounts about our ill son and his friend.

Misha V. Arishchenkov’s Account

“When we were brought to the town of Yakutsk we bought ourselves some warm clothes, especially good, warm valenki (boots made out of felt). From Yakutsk we had to go further north to the place where we were to serve our 18 year sentence. We arrived at our destination and occupied an abandoned yurta (nomad’s hut). It was very cold, and the windows were all iced up. There were approximately thirty of us. We installed some glass windows, and with difficulty, built a Russian kiln for baking bread in the middle of the hut. Beside the kiln, we set up a bed for our sick friend, Fedya Fominov, and for the rest of us we set up nari (plank beds). In order to sleep, we would lay down with our heads towards the center of the hut and our feet towards the wall. We always slept in our valenki. The weather was fiercely cold and the nomad’s hut was so poor, that by morning, our valenki were frozen to the wall…”

Grisha Sukharev’s Account

“My responsibility was to look after our ill friend. Near him, I tied a belt to the crossbar of the hut. This was done so that when I went elsewhere, and Feodor needed to sit up or turn on his other side, he took hold of the belt, and although with great difficulty, he slowly turned himself over. After the winter was over, Fedya spoke gravely to us: “Brothers, tovarishchi (comrades) I want to ask you to please take me back to the town of Yakutsk, to the hospital. Even though I feel that I will not survive, I wish to at least free your hands as there is enough for you to take care of in order to survive. You must go and earn your daily bread without having to also care for me. There, in the hospital, it may be easier for me…”

Narrative of Seoma S. Usachev

“I chose to go with our sick tovarishch to Yakutsk and take him to the hospital. With difficulty we brought Fedya to the river and set up a tent. I stayed to look after him: We waited for the ship to arrive. On this particular river, the steamboat comes only once throughout the whole summer. Apparently, the boat was in Nelkan picking up winter tea brought from China on the backs of deer. We had to wait a long time. At one point Fedya said: “Seoma, tovarishch, are you here?” I replied that I was. He called me forward and said: “Please look at my side, there is something soft. ” I opened his shirt and saw a lump as huge as my fist. I got scared and explained that the situation was not very good. He turned and said: “if you have a knife, try and cut it off.” I started to carefully cut it off, ask- ing him if ithurt. He said that he didn’t feel any pain. When I finished I carefully cleaned the area and bandaged it up. It was a chunk of old, black blood. Fedya had been unmercifully beaten in the disciplinary battalion. His sergeant-major was strong, almost the same size as Fedya, and was an extremely angry man. He would often beat Fedya with his fists, on his cheeks, on his head, on his side. He also beat him with a stump of wood or with the butt of his rifle. His last beating was the most injurious, when he was beaten with an ammunition belt filled with shells on the back of his head, and both of his ears were severely scarred. They were always pussing. Almost all of his skin hung from his bones.”

Group of Doukhobor Exiles in Yakutsk, Siberia, circa 1904

“I wanted to look after Fedya until his bodily existence came to an end. However, to my regret, before the arrival of our ship, a man from our work party walked up to us and told us that he was also ill, and was going to Yakutsk and could take Fedya with him. I did not argue with him.”

“When they arrived in Yakutsk, he placed Fedya in the hospital, but he did not consider it necessary to constantly visit him and Fedya was left alone. Soon afterwards, a few middle-aged Doukhobors, exiled from Elizavetpol (including several brothers of Peter “Lordly” Verigin) arrived in Yakutsk. Petrunya Dimovsky, a middle-aged man, exiled for incitement, was also placed in the hospital because of his illness. He was not altogether bedridden, and at times, looked in on Fedya Fominov. When Fedya became even more tired and exhausted, Petrunya asked him: “What is with you, brother Fedya, how do you feel?”

“I feel that I will soon die and return to my Heavenly Father…”, replied Fedya. “What should be done about your clothing – should it be returned to your family?” asked Petrunya. “No, my family has everything, give it away here amongst the poor,” further stated Fedya. And so, on the 20th of August, 1897, in the Yakutsk hospital, one of our Doukhobor martyr’s earthly existence came to an end.”

IV

When we received a letter and learned about our son’s death, all of us grieved and mourned for him. Only his own mother did not shed a single tear, but prayed to God, so that the Lord would receive her son in his everlasting abode. She considered crying a sin, and said that her sons went to share the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ. However, after the sorrowful news, she stayed in bed for a whole week -“and how could she not lie in bed, when two of her sons died at the height of their youth, both in the same year?”

Our eldest son, Vanya, passed away in the Georgian villages in March at the age of twenty-six, and our middle son, Fedya, passed away in the Yakutsk Region in August at the age of twenty-four. Their families never saw them again. Their mother (and my wife) lived very well with her daughters-in-law. They looked upon her like their own mother, and she considered them like her own daughters. When they remarried and took her grandchildren with them, only then did our mother cry out loud, repeating, “Only now do I see that my devout family is torn apart!” She had three daughters-in-law. For many years they lived together and never spoke a harsh word to each other. They always tried to live a happy, Christian life.

Categories
Biographical Stories and Articles

Doukhobor Interfaith Relations in South Ukraine, Late 18th and Early 19th Century

by Anastasia Buchnaya

While residing in Tavria in the early nineteenth century, the Doukhobors invariably came in contact with members of other religious creeds, notably Orthodox, Mennonites, Molokans and Muslims. In this Doukhobor Genealogy Website exclusive, Anastasia Buchnaya, a Postgraduate of the State University of Zaporozhia in Ukraine, explores the influence of inter-creed relations on the belief system and socioeconomic life of the Doukhobors, based on archival records from the State Archives of Crimea and other Russian and Ukrainian language sources. Translated from the original Ukrainian by Yana Sermyakova with further translation and editing by Jonathan J. Kalmakoff. Published by permission.

One of the peculiarities of the south of Ukraine in the second half of the 18th century through the first half of the 19th century was the closer coexistence of different ethnic groups and religious creeds than in other parts of the country. This was primarily due to the historical conditions under which colonization of the country was taking place. The south of Ukraine became the centre for the emergence and dissemination of a variety of Christian sects, prominent among which was the Doukhobor sect which arose in the second half of the 18th century and gradually spread.

The coexistence of the Doukhobors with representatives of other religious creeds had an influence not only upon some aspects of their material life but also upon their religious doctrine.

According to the opinion of Orest Novitsky, an early researcher of Doukhoborism, the existence of Quaker elements in the Doukhobor belief system is explained by the fact that the first teacher of the sect was a Prussian corporal. Originating from Orthodox Christianity, under the influence of contacts with Anabaptists, the Doukhobor sect absorbed the features of this movement.

Studying the origins of Doukhoborism, 19th century researchers adhered to the view that the teachings had mainly spread amongst peasants of Russian origin, however, the fact that there exists a considerable quantity of Ukrainian surnames among the Doukhobors points to the propagation of the belief system among Ukrainian inhabitants, primarily among the Cossacks. The government of Catherine the Great, when it attempted to discover the source of Doukhoborism, came to the conclusion that the centres for the dispersion of this teaching were Zaporozhian Cossack villages. As the historian Nikolsky contended, this became one of the forms of protest against the persecution of the Cossacks by Catherine the Great. Further to this, modern research suggests that Cossacks introduced elements of their own ideology when joining the Doukhobor sect.

Beginning in the second half of the 18th century, Doukhobor teachings began to spread in the central and southern regions of Ukraine. The number of followers of the sect was rapidly increasing, a fact which could not but bother the government. The persecution of Doukhobors for resistance to the government and divergence from the state religion began in the times of Catherine the Great, whose practice was to evict them to Siberia. It is worth noting, however, that it was exactly in the time of Catherine the Great that the laws relating to punishment of religious dissidents were relaxed. A series of edicts during this period were directed to calming relations between representatives of different creeds. Religious intolerance was censured, foment of religious hostility was prohibited, and heresy was to be treated as nothing more than a civil affair, since ‘persecution stirs the mind’.

Nevertheless, at the end of the 18th through the beginning of the 19th century, wherever Doukhobors lived, in addition to persecution from officials and clergy, they also faced negative treatment from the Orthodox population. Local officials often received complaints from Doukhobors relating to the fact that wherever they lived together with Orthodox peasants, the Doukhobors were frequently harassed, forced to pay crippling taxes and recruited into the army out of turn. The Imperial Senator Lopukhin, in his report about the life of Slobodsk-Ukrainian Doukhobors, confirmed these conditions, emphasizing that the “settlers are intolerant of them, the same of which can be said of the rest of the inhabitants”. It cannot be determined whether the Doukhobors’ own behavior resulted in conflict with their neighbours; however, given their teachings about the equality of all people in the face of God, it can be assumed that they were inclined toward peaceful coexistence with representatives of other creeds. On the other hand, the Doukhobors considered themselves the “sons of Abel” wrestling against the “sons of Cain”, a synonym for all other people. Such an attitude of opposing other inhabitants within their own communities could have brought about their negative treatment by Orthodox peasants. Such attitudes towards the Doukhobors may also be explained by the fact that Doukhobor teachings, especially during the ascendancy of the sect, were largely embraced by free landowning peasants – the most independent and economically successful of the peasantry.

Eventually, persecution from government and local officials led to the poverty and ruin of many Doukhobors. The Doukhobors’ unbearable living conditions drew the attention of Tsar Alexander I, whose rule proved to be the most comfortable period for the Doukhobors. The primary thrust of Alexander’s policy towards the Doukhobors was their separation from the rest of the Orthodox population as a means of “containing their heresy and preventing their influence on others” as well as protecting them from persecution. To this end, by Imperial Decree No. 20 123, on January 25, 1802, Doukhobors were resettled to Tavria province along the Molochnaya River. At the beginning of the 19th century, these lands were thinly populated; therefore the founding of Doukhobor settlements was deemed favorable for the development of the region and would also lessen the sectarians’ contact with the Orthodox population.

Among the Doukhobors’ neighbours in Tavria were the Mennonites, religious nonconformists who, fleeing persecution in Holland and Germany, settled in the south of Ukraine.

It is entirely possible that the Anabaptist elements in the Doukhobor belief system took shape as a result of long-term relations with the Mennonites. In Novitsky’s opinion, however, the influence of Anabaptist beliefs began long before the Doukhobors’ sojourn with the Mennonites on the Molochnaya. In the 18th century, captive Prussian soldiers had brought these elements of Protestantism to Tambov province, a centre of early Doukhoborism. In this way, the resemblance of the doctrines of the Doukhobors and Mennonites is demonstrated by the denial of baptizing children, prayer ritual, and wedding and burial ceremony. The traditions of a communal economy, common property and aversion to secular and ecclesiastic authorities were common as well.

In 1804, the Mennonites, alongside other German immigrants of Catholic and Lutheran faith, established settlements in the Melitopol district on both banks of the Molochnaya River, close to the settlements of the Doukhobors.

In their homeland, the Mennonites had been principally engaged in farming, and with their resettlement to the south of Ukraine, they brought progressive farming practices which resulted in their colonies becoming the most rich and advanced.

The Doukhobors eagerly adopted the advanced expertise of their neighbours in farming, gardening and cattle breeding, whereas most other settlers were indifferent to such experience. The Doukhobors of Melitopol also took up some of the niceties of the Mennonites’ lifestyle, incorporated German elements in their clothing and began to build their houses in the German style.

From time to time, the Mennonites stepped forward as mediators between the Doukhobors and local authorities, delivering petitions from the people of the Doukhobor settlements and standing as witnesses during court investigations.

At the beginning of the 19th century, the Tsarist government, having no detailed descriptions of the Doukhobor and Molokan belief systems, frequently misidentified the two religious groups. This fact significantly complicates the study of Doukhobor history, as in many official reports, bulletins and other documents, the two groups were often confused. In actuality, while the two beliefs shared similarities in their outward expression, they were diametrically opposed to each other in basic principles, such as their attitude towards the Holy Bible, which was highly respected by the Molokans, whereas among the Doukhobors, spiritual insight was considered the source of religious truth. The historical development of the Molokans and Doukhobors is closely connected. It is significant that one of the first Molokan teachers, Semyon Uklein, was the son-in-law of the Doukhobor leader Ilarion Pobirokhin, a fact which leads researchers to regard the Molokans as an offshoot of the Doukhobor sect.

Nevertheless, frequently while living together, the sectarians of these different creeds occasionally quarreled over religious matters. The representatives of both sects kept a vigilant watch on not being confused with the other. When in 1804 through 1804, the Molokans were resettled on the banks of the Molochnaya River, the government having considered them to be Doukhobors, the latter refused to incorporate them into their community. In addition the Molokans’ settlements were situated close to those of the Mennonites.

During the coexistence of the Doukhobor and Molokan settlements along the Molochnaya River, there were cases where Molokans departed from their religious beliefs and joined the Doukhobors. This is supported by archival records about the Molokans of Novo-Vasilyevka village, who claimed to be Doukhobors. On May 6, 1831, a report from the Melitopol regional court was filed with the Tavria official expedition, according to which twelve Molokans and their families professed the Doukhobor religion and requested to join the Doukhobor villages of Rodionovka and Tambovka. The Molokan community of Novo-Vasilyevka did not mind their conversion and the Doukhobors were eager to accept them. It was accepted that these people could no longer stay at their present place of residence because of differences in belief, and a portion of them, to avoid reproaches from the Molokans, had already moved out to the aforementioned Doukhobor villages. The list of persons who claimed themselves to be Doukhobors is given in two records – a nominal list and a list of recruits in four sections. In the latter list, it is evident that the family of Vasily Zhmaev, a resident of Novo-Vasilyevka village, was on the recruit roll under the second row. Based on the Recruit Regulations issued in 1831, families whose members were on the recruit roll in the first two rolls couldn’t be resettled until they had served their time. The fact that other Molokan families were allowed to join the Doukhobors was confirmed on October 4, 1833 by the Minister of Internal Affairs’ letter to the Governor of Tavria.

In 1807, the Nogai tribes of the Bucak horde, who professed Islam, migrated to the Molochnaya River. Orest Novitsky recounts that there were many conflicts between the Doukhobors and the Nogai concerning land ownership: while enlarging their farmlands the Doukhobors seized a portion of their neighbors’ pastures. In response, the Nogai complained to local officials, but “the quick-witted and largely affluent Doukhobors, through lies and false arguments and quite possible using bribes, managed to absorb the disputed lands into their landholdings, thus the Tatars, numbering 600 people, having lost the pastures necessary for their herds, had to resettle to the banks of the Danube”. Unfortunately, the author omits references as the sources used; therefore it is difficult to confirm the reliability of this information. However, it can be assumed that quarrels over land could arise between landlords and communities, regardless of religion.

It is interesting to note that the Doukhobors frequently hired the Nogai as workers. The government didn’t object to such contracts between the Doukhobors and Muslims, as their conversion to the sect was not prohibited. In accordance with the Imperial Decree No. 15543 of February 8, 1834, the Doukhobors of Tavria province were permitted to accept Muslims into their communities after paying all taxes and duties, and to hire them to perform military service on their behalf. For this reason, the Doukhobors of Tavria and other provinces actively exercised this right. As a result, by Imperial Decree of May 8, 1839, this option was cancelled.

We have already highlighted the Doukhobors’ ambiguous relationship with the Orthodox prior to their resettlement to the Molochnaya River. Although the Doukhobor resettlement was carried out in order to insulate them from the Orthodox and to settle the region, such contacts could not be avoided. The historian A. Skalkovsky has pointed out that while the Doukhobors lived in isolation from others “except for the Mennonites and Nogai, there were no complaints or denunciations against them. However, with the establishment of Russian settlements near Nogaisk and the newly established port of Berdiansk, the Doukhobors had to face rivals and covetous people”. Once again, the Doukhobors’ land ownership was a matter of dispute. Hence, one man, Efimenko, proposed that the Administration of State Property should confiscate the farmlands which the Doukhobors obtained during their resettlement to the Molochnaya River (15 desatnias per person). This man proposed to purchase the Doukhobor land for 20 kopeks per desiatnia, and to sell it for 60 kopeks (he later increased the proposed price to one ruble per desiatnia). However, his proposal was rejected, which resulted in many denunciations against the Doukhobors.

It should be noted that at the time of Alexander I, practicing the Doukhobor faith was not considered a crime; however, proselytizing among the Orthodox was punishable by law. On account of cases of Orthodox conversion to Doukhoborism in the Melitopol region during the first quarter of the 19th century, the government vigilantly monitored for Doukhobor proselytization. Revealing in this regard is the 1816 archival case, “On the settlers Mikita Yashchenko and Gordei Oborovsky, and others who converted to the Doukhobor sect, as well as the Doukhobor teacher Savely Kapustin’s proselytization among the Orthodox”. The case contains a letter of July 25, 1815, in which Iov, the Archbishop of Ekaterinoslav, informs A.M. Borozdin, the Governor of Tavria, that the priests of the Pokrov Church in Orekhov had notified him about Savely Kapustin’s propagation of the Doukhobor faith amongst the Orthodox population of the Melitopol region. The priests, in turn, received their information from their parishioners, Arkhip Baev and Ivan Bazilevsky, who had converted from the Doukhobor faith to Orthodoxy. In the course of investigation, it turned out that these reprobates had converted to Orthodoxy only to escape their recruitment call, and the guilt of the 73 year-old Kapustin, who had been imprisoned, was not established. The Doukhobors themselves, in a petition to the Emperor, described this case among many others.

Accordingly, when Langeron, the military governor of Kherson, devised a proposal for the resettlement of the Doukhobors from Tavria because of the threat of the further spread of their teachings among others, the Emperor issued a Decree No. 26550 of December 9, 1816, stating that “Over several years, the Government did not receive any complaints or accusations of disorders” caused by the Doukhobors, therefore “we should be thinking not about the resettlement of these people, but rather of protecting them from persecution. Thus Alexander I acknowledged the fact that the Doukhobors were still persecuted by the Orthodox population and officials.

Still, there existed another basis of relations between the Doukhobors and Orthodox. Occasionally the Orthodox, while employed for work, lived in the Doukhobor communities; as well, Doukhobors could be employed in the homes of the Orthodox or persons of other confessions.

Some aspects of these contacts and of quarrels with local clergy are depicted in the case investigation of the crime of Alexei Nalimsky, a priest from Tokmak, against the Doukhobors of Terpeniye village. According to the case, the priest, being drunk in the house of the Doukhobor Nikolai Zakharov, offended the hose and tried to beat him, breaking his wooden cross and accusing Zakharov of this. In the course of investigation, the priest pled guilty and it was also concluded that during the inquest, the Assessor of the Melitopol regional court, Yakov Kovtunovsky, had made a series of mistakes. Namely, the testimonies of the colonist Ivan Belgart and the settler Emelian Plokhiy, witnesses in favour of the Doukhobors, had not been verified. Since the witnesses resided in the employ of the Doukhobors, therefore their testimonies could not be considered trustworthy. It was noted that the Orthodox Emelian Plokhiy had not attended confession for several years, therefore it should be investigated as to whether he had been affected by the Doukhobors.

The above demonstrates that the Doukhobors readily availed themselves of the laws allowing them to employ laborers of other confessions. In addition to hired workers, those Doukhobors belonging to the landowning class could have had Orthodox peasants as their property.

Nevertheless, after Nicholas I sharply altered the state’s policy towards religious sectarians, a number of governmental decrees were passed to restrict their influence on the Orthodox. In particular, the Imperial Decree of January 17, 1836 prohibited Molokans and Doukhobors from hiring Orthodox workers nor being employed by the Orthodox. A further decree of April 17, 1842 strictly prohibited Molokans and Doukhobors from owning serfs of any religious confession.

Certainly, during the Doukhobors sojourn in Tavria province, they established close commercial relations with representatives of other religious confessions: the Doukhobors sold their produce and goods at the fairs of Melitopol and other regions; and when preparing to resettle in the Caucasus, they sold their property to the inhabitants of neighboring non-Doukhobor villages.

Having thoroughly examined aspects of the Doukhobor belief system, it may be concluded that they reflected certain elements of other confessions, which they had contact with during the formation of their own religious doctrines.

While residing in the Tavria region, the Doukhobors, living in isolated settlements, could not avoid contact with members of other religions (Orthodox, Mennonites, Molokans and Muslims). Such relations influenced both the socio-economic and material life of the Doukhobor community, as well as the lives of their neighbours.

Bibliography

  • Boyko, A. “Tserkva ta Mizhkonfesiini vzaemini na pivdni Ukraini v ostannii chverti XVIII ct. // Mizhkonfesiini vidnosini na pivdni Ukraini XVIII-XX ct.” (Zaporozhia, R.A. “Tandem-U”, 1999).
  • State Archive of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea, Fond 26, Opus 4, Spr. 473, 755; Fond 27, Opis 1, SPr. 1572, 1574.
  • Druzhinina, Y.I. “Yuzhnaya Ukraina v 1800-1825 gg.” (M.: Nauka, 1970).
  • Zapiska o Nekotorykh obstoyatel’stvakh zhizni I sluzhby deistvitel’nogo tainogo sovetnika, senatora I.V. Lopukhin (M.: 1860 – t.3 – s.84-172).
  • Klibanov, A.I. “Istoria Religioznogo Sektantstva v Rossii” (M.: Nauka, 1978).
  • Livanov, F. “Molokane I Dukhobortsy v Ukraine i Novorossii” // Vestnik Evropy (Kn. 12, 1868, c. 809-836).
  • Liman, I.I. “Do pitannya pro zv’yazok viruvan’ ta obryadovosti dukhoboriv ta zaporiz’kogo kozatstva.” // Zaporoiz’ke kozatstvo v pam’yatkakh istorii ta kul’turi. Materiali mizhnarodnoi naukovo-praktichnoi konferentsii (Zaporoizhzhyz, 2-4, zhovtnya 1997 r.) – Sektsiya, III, IV, V – Zaporizhzhya,: R.A. (Tandem-U, 1997). S. 47-51.
  • Miliukov, P.N. “Ocherki po istorii russkoi kul’tury” (Srb, 1905, 407 s).
  • Nikolsky, N.M. “Istoria russkoi tserkvi” – 3-3 izd – (M.: Politizdat, 1983, 448s.).
  • Novitsky, O. “Dukhobortsy. Ikh istoria I verouchenie”. (K., 1882, 282s).
  • Polnoe sobranie zakonov Rossiiskoi imperii, Sobr I, T. XXVII, s.733-735, TXXXIII – s. 1110-1112; Sobr II, T. IX, s. 548, T. IXVII, s. 327.
  • Skalkovsky, A. “Russkie dissidenty v novorossii.” // Kievskaya starina – 1887. t.17, No.4 – s.771-782.
  • Kharlamov, I.I. “Dukhobortsy. Istoricheskii ocherk.” // Russkaya Mysl’ – kn. XI – M. 1824 – s.138-161.
Categories
Historical Stories and Articles