V. Письма

1. Hieromonk Barsanuphius (Plikhankov) - to His Eminence Veniamin, Bishop of Kaluga They did not stop anywhere along the way, thus following non-stop from April 13 to May 2 - 19 days. We just had to wait a few hours while crossing Lake Baikal - at the crossings... Almost simultaneously, a military train with Siberian Cossacks followed us. We were told that they were followed by Orenburg and Ural Cossacks, consisting of eight regiments and two horse artillery batteries (two divisions). There was a rumor about our first battle on the Yalu River. On April 28 we arrived in Manchuria. There is a station on the border, and it is also called Manchuria. Here we also encountered a delay; a transfer was taking place. For the first time we saw the Chinese. These are all workers. The Chinese live peacefully with Russians, and they like Russians. From the Manchuria station the road, along its entire length to the city of Harbin, 85 versts, is already guarded by troops - mounted soldiers and Cossacks are riding around. Not long before us, they caught the Japanese who wanted to blow up a railway tunnel near Khingan while a train of 40 carriages carrying troops was moving. God saved us - the explosion followed the passage of the train. They were all tried by a military court and hanged in Liaoyang. At the Manchuria station we were pleased with the news of a successful attack on the Japanese by General Rennekampf with two regiments of Cossacks, and the Japanese suffered terrible losses. The first Chinese city on our way was Hailar, but we did not see it... The sight of Russian churches at the stations of the Siberian Railway consoled us. There is desert all around. But here is a church and several, two or three dozen houses are grouped around it. This is Holy Rus' in a small form. And my soul becomes light and joyful. In Harbin, from the station we all went to the Red Cross building, where we were sheltered and given a warm welcome. We were placed in rooms and agreed to provide fish and dairy food. Life in Harbin is not expensive at all... Russian Harbin is expanding, and it can be compared with any small county town. There are three wooden churches in it, services are held daily. (“Additions to the Church Gazette.” 1904) 2. Hieromonk Barsanuphius (Plikhankov) to the rector of Optina Pustyn, Abbot Xenophon (Klyukin) Mullin, August 1904 Three months have already passed since my arrival in Mullin 511 ... Our hospital is a branch of the Tambov Red Cross community, founded in the name of the Tambov saint, Bishop Pitirim, whose relics are incorruptible and exude miracles, although not yet glorified, rest in the Tambov Cathedral 512. About four years ago I came across an image of the saint in our monastery shop, and I purchased it, framed it, and with the blessing of Fr. Joseph 513 placed in the table of Scete, where it is probably located and offered. And now I, unworthy, have been honored to serve in the community in the name of this saint and its patron. Now the hospital is full of sick and wounded people who are being brought from the battlefield near Liaoyang. Some are discharged and sent to the army, and new ones arrive to replace those who leave. There are now up to 250 people in the hospital and another 100 are expected. The available medical staff is small: 5 doctors, 15 nurses and 20 orderlies. There is enough work for everyone, especially the sisters - tireless work goes on both night and day. Good care. We have to confess and partake of the Holy Mysteries to the sick and console them spiritually, as the Lord instructs. Only now, when I met face to face with Russian wounded warriors, officers and soldiers, did I become convinced of the abyss of Christian love and self-sacrifice that lies in the heart of the Russian person, and nowhere, perhaps, do they manifest themselves in such amazing strength and greatness as on the battlefield. Only in difficult times of war is one realized with one’s own eyes that the faith of Christ is the breath and life of the Russian people, that with the loss and impoverishment of this faith in the hearts of the people, their life will inevitably cease. Every nation sets certain tasks, which constitute the essence, the content of its life, but the Russian people have one task, which is rooted in the depths of its soul. This is the eternal salvation of his soul, the inheritance of eternal life, the Kingdom of Heaven. I cordially congratulate you on the birth of the Sovereign-Heir. Yesterday a solemn prayer service was held in front of a gathering of people and authorities. There is no church at Mullin Station. At my request, I was given temporary quarters in an empty barracks, and I set up a house of prayer there using funds raised by subscription. The iconostasis was recently installed, and I am asking His Eminence Innocent, who lives in Beijing, for permission to serve the Liturgy on the consecrated antimension issued to me by the Moscow Synodal Office... I spend most of my time in the Red Cross hospital and sometimes I get tired not from the work, but from the heat, which is very high in Manchuria. Mullin is located along the railway, on a river with excellent water and in a picturesque area: all around there are mountains covered with forests and bushes, in which there are bears, tigers and even lions, as the Chinese personally assured me. There are many breeds of all kinds of birds, especially beautiful pheasants with a bright red golden color... Until now, Mullin was in danger from attacks by Honghuz, who attacked the nearest stations at night. Now they say they all went to help the Japanese in Liaoyang... I believe, together with all Orthodox Russian people, that the incomprehensible Divine power of the Honest and Life-Giving Cross will defeat and crush the dark power of the deep serpent-dragon emblazoned on Japanese banners. I note, by the way, that I also had to personally hear from the soldiers stationed at the Khantazy station, 70 versts from Mullin, that they often saw two years ago how a huge Winged Dragon crawled out of one mountain cave, terrifying them, and again hid in the depths of the cave. Since then it has not been seen, but this proves that the stories of the Chinese and Japanese about the existence of dragons are not at all fiction or a fairy tale, although European scientists and ours, together with them, deny the existence of these monsters. But you never know what is denied just because it does not fit the standards of our concepts... In memory of the holy noble princes and martyrs Boris and Gleb, on July 24, not far from the window of my cell, located next to the house of worship, many sparrows were seen flying near the wall. As we approached, we saw a huge poisonous snake that was climbing onto the roof and could climb into the window at night. The Lord saved the holy noble princes Boris and Gleb through the prayers... I am alone here, I have no one to consult or talk to for the benefit of my damned soul, although there are many good people around me... My life, in its general course, is this: I get up at 2 o’clock in the morning and perform morning prayers, the 1st hour and the midnight office. Then I go to bed and get up at 6 o’clock in the morning, do the 3rd and 6th hours and fine. I drink tea with bread. Then classes at home and in the hospital, lunch at the Red Cross... I rest for an hour, then back to the hospital. In the evening at 10 o'clock I read the evening prayers and the 9th hour and go to bed. I replace the hours with the Jesus Prayer. I have almost abandoned Pentecost, although I do not lose hope, with God’s help, to begin again and pass as it should. In general, in many ways I have fallen behind Optina's order... Many of my brothers, like swallows, magpies and even eagles, soar high and soar in the skies, and I cannot rise from the ground, weighed down by the sleep of despondency, but I do not lose faith that perhaps the Lord will return me to the Skete and I will shut myself up in my silent cell, thinking about the salvation only of my own sinful, accursed souls. But when this time comes, only God knows... I am also glad that our detachment and the hospital arrived from the area consecrated by the feet of St. Seraphim of Sarov, whom I always remember on all holidays: and Father Fr. Ambrose was a Tambovite" 514. (Optina archive. 1904) 3. The elder brethren of Optina Pustyn - to the Holy Synod Discussing this matter 515, the elder brethren of the Hermitage and Skete took into account that Fr. Abbot Barsanuphius is currently the most needed monk for the Skete and the Hermitage. With the death of the ever-memorable Fr. Archpriest John of Kronstadt and Elder Fr. Barnabas 516, in recent years the influx of pilgrims to Optina has noticeably increased, and mainly intelligent, educated people from different parts of Russia: ladies of high society, students of higher educational institutions, teachers, educated young people of both sexes, thirsty for spiritual clarification on the feelings and doubts that concern them and their healing. And oh. Barsanuphius satisfied this need. Long before he entered the monastery, the Lord seemed to be preparing him for the feat of senility... He not only daily constantly orally provides senile care for the flocking of both simple and educated persons, but then continues communication with them and guidance through correspondence, reaching several - at least four - thousand [letters] per year. Optina is located in the very center of Russia - for eldership it needs monks like Fr. Barsanuphius, who currently has no one to replace him. (Optina archive. 1912) 4. Novice Elena Shamonina 517 – Margarita Fedorovna 518, spiritual daughter of Elder Barsanuphius Golovin 519, April 15, 1913 I am sending you a card from Father Barsanuphius. I think that the news of Father’s death has already reached you. I will describe what I know about the circumstances surrounding her. Father fell ill for the last time on March 13, but he had been ill before: before Christmas, before Epiphany, shortly before Candlemas, before the oil service. In the cell where he died, above his bed there is a touching inscription made at his request by the cell attendant: “Since March 13, I have not drunk or eaten anything, that is, today is March 27, the fifteenth day.” So to the end he did not drink or eat anything, only received the Holy Mysteries every day, and then with difficulty, so that in the last days, too weak to speak, he showed with his fingertips how little Communion needed to be given to him. No one knows for sure what kind of illness he had. Doctors from Moscow came, prompted by the efforts of the spiritual children, and a surgeon also came, but the Elder did not let anyone in: “If God wants me to die, I will die.” But from all indications one wonders whether he had stomach cancer. He was conscious all the time, he was interested in which of the spiritual children had arrived, he even called others to him, but he was so weak that he spoke his last testaments into the cell attendant’s ear, and he repeated them out loud to those present. He spoke a lot in a barely audible voice. He often asked his cell attendants: “Do you understand me?” Later, believing that they understood him, he began to talk about the bliss of Paradise, but all in separate phrases. On the 27th (or 25th, I don’t remember correctly) March, in addition to the previously made will, he dictated the following lines, written on a separate piece of notepaper: “I also bequeath in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ not to bury my body until obvious signs of death are revealed - everyone knows what these signs are. Sinful Archimandrite Barsanuphius." The last three words are signed in his own hand, but the handwriting has changed a lot: difficult letters, like a child’s hand. On Sunday, Father was dressed in the schema, which was no longer removed from him (after all, do you know that from July 11, 1910, he was in the secret schema?). He stopped talking, but suffered greatly, although he did not complain, but only winced and groaned twice, turning the whole soul of those present. In response to the efforts of the cell attendants to somehow alleviate his suffering, he said even earlier: “Leave me alone, I am crucified and waiting for them to take me down from the cross.” The cell attendants clearly saw that the end was coming, and they expected it no earlier than the first and no later than the sixth of April, and here’s why: The Elder very much loved the holy fool Pasha Diveevskaya for Christ’s sake and sent her money. Moving to Golutvin, he sent her a transfer. Later they described to him how the blessed one accepted the money. She looked at them for a long time, then wrapped them in something, put them under the icons and said: “Three hundred and sixty-five.” Having heard this, both Father and the cell attendants decided that it meant he would have to stay in Golutvin for a year, and then, perhaps, they would let him go to rest. But they didn’t know where to count the year: from the first of April, when the Elder left Optina last year, or from the sixth, when, having been ordained as an archimandrite in Moscow, he arrived in Golutvin. So what? Father died on the first of April, and on the sixth the carriage with his body left Golutvin for Optina Pustyn - three hundred and sixty-five days had already passed. Due to Father’s illness, his cell attendants did not go to Matins and did not set the alarm clock for several days; its clock was set at 7.05 all the last days. On the first of April, exactly at seven o'clock five minutes. Father sighed quietly and rested. His face immediately changed; according to the cell attendants, it acquired a special whiteness and an expression unusual for it. During his lifetime, he had a “stern” appearance, but the deceased Father’s face was unusually meek, humble and joyful. I, who arrived after the death of the Elder, did not have to see his face. He very strictly commanded that no one should dare to lift the casing: “Whoever looks at my dead face will not see me at the Last Judgment.” It is clear that no one dared to ask to reveal his face. During his lifetime, Father prepared a list of telegrams that needed to be sent out after his death, and his clerk sent fifty telegrams to different places, including me. I arrived on Tuesday, April 2nd. Mother Superior of our monastery let me go, expecting that the burial would be on the third, on Wednesday, and ordered me to go back on Wednesday. Father’s spiritual children came to the monastery hotel with each train; there were no more places there, and some had to stay in the houses of private individuals (including me). The church where the coffin stood was not locked day or night; the monastery fence was also almost not locked, and believers crowded day and night around the body of Father. Someone wasn't here! And nuns from all sides, and young girls, and elderly ladies, and military and civilian people, and clergy, and many local peasants, and many children who remembered Father’s affection and gifts that he distributed to them... Who cries, who bows and venerates Father’s body, who carries purchased rosaries, belts, icons and asks the monk on duty at the tomb to put them in the Elder’s hand - and accepts them back as a blessing from himself. Those who have recently arrived are crying, those who have already endured it stand there, without tears. To the side there is a record of those wishing to go with the coffin to Optina. Almost simultaneously with me, the dean arrived in Golutvin, bringing a message that the funeral service for Father would not be on Wednesday the third, as we thought, but on Saturday the sixth. The Holy Synod and the Metropolitan ordered his burial in Optina Pustyn. They said that the immediate superior, Fr., would come to the funeral service. Barsanuphius and his personal friend from Optina, His Eminence Tryphon. So, we had to wait until Saturday for the funeral service, but I was released until Wednesday. You had to sign up to go to Optina in advance and pay five rubles for the trip. Will Mother Superior let me in? I wrote her a letter, where I even admitted that it was so hard in Golutvin while waiting for the funeral service that it was time to run away. I sent a letter and got scared: how will mother write to come back? She received an answer: she must stay until the funeral service, say goodbye properly and bow to the Elder for her; if you have tickets and a suitable company, you can go to Optina; if the spirit is confused, act in the way that suits you best, complete freedom! And the postcard is affectionate, purely maternal. God bless mother! And while I was waiting for an answer, a lot had changed in our situation: from a painfully inactive one, it turned into a purely joyful and hard-working, troublesome one. It began with the diligence of all the arriving admirers of Father, local and visitors, that funeral services were served almost continuously at the tomb. The hieromonk served, standing by the Gospel, and it was almost not read. As soon as he begins: “At the time it is...” - and they are already putting money in his hand, he lights a candle, takes up the censer and begins a new funeral service: “Let us pray to the Lord in peace... Anton, where are you?” - and a tired voice: “Lord, have mercy.” Anton, who performed the duties of a psalm-reader, became hoarse and tired, and sometimes did not respond at all. Involuntarily, we, standing in the corners, began to sing along, then huddled together in one group, and it ended with the treasurer and Hieromonk Palladius 520, who had come from Optina to pick up the Elder’s body, starting the funeral service, simply announcing: “Mothers who can sing, come here!” - and we got together and sang all this week. True, it happened that they got confused and sang not quite correctly. We were all from different places, and not all of us were singers, but it was warm and joyful that our Father was not alone with Anton, that we had the opportunity to perform his last service. And the words spoken by Father on my last visit to him in February still rang in my ears: “If Mother allows you, come for Easter; Then you and I will sing “Christ is Risen” together.” Dear father, my mother let me in, but not on Easter, but on the eve of Passion, and I sang to you not “Christ is Risen,” but a funeral lament. A day later, on Friday, I see: one of the visiting Shamordino nuns goes around to all the sisters and says something to them. It turns out that they noticed that the church is dirty, dusty, dirt has grown on the icons, you kneel on the floor, all piebald you stand up: “Poor little priest, how unpleasant it is for him to lie in such dirt! Sisters, let’s wash the floor and clean the church!” We were blessed by the treasurer - and by the end of the hour I looked: all these nuns, Shamordinsky, Belevsky, Voronezh and others, were transformed, where short jackets came from, long cassocks were picked up - and the scrubbing, washing, cleaning began. That's when I was glad that I was a nun! They opened the windows, washed everything, wiped everything - and for this they received lunch in the fraternal refectory. Bishop Tryphon arrived that night, and the next day there was a funeral service. All these days we strengthened ourselves, cried little, and everyone around said that we were disturbing the Elder with our tears. The Lord untied us. After mass, before the funeral service, he came out to say a word. I began with the fact that on this significant day we perform the funeral service for Fr. Barsanuphia: The resurrection of Lazarus assures us that our souls will also be resurrected, that the soul of our Father has also been resurrected for the villages of paradise. To the question whether it is possible to cry for the dead, the Gospel story about the resurrection of Lazarus answers us - of course it is possible, if the Lord Himself wept over Lazarus! Then Vladyka began to speak, addressing Father as if he were alive, and recalled his meetings with him... 521 ...The Bishop fell silent and began to cry, the whole church was sobbing, and it was not immediately possible to continue... ...The Bishop was so upset that he even shortened the funeral service somewhat, after which, after escorting the coffin to the carriage, he immediately left. The coffin was carried in a religious procession with several laymen to the carriage, which stood on a spare branch under the hill, near the monastery. They put it in a metal box and covered it. We thought that the carriage would be sealed, but it turned out otherwise. Someone donated banners, someone else portable icons, someone else a candlestick, and from one spiritual daughter there was a cross made of white artificial flowers. They fixed it on the wall, nailed the banners, fixed the candlestick, and the funeral services began. No matter how many times I came to the carriage, a crowd of people, more and more local residents, surrounded it, nuns sang, and the already hoarse hieromonk served a funeral service. They prayed on their knees. During the all-night vigil, at seven o'clock in the evening, a steam locomotive was delivered, the carriage was closed, and the train set off from Golutvin to the station. There was a cry among the remaining crowd, and people almost grabbed the wheels of the carriage. On Sunday night, Father remained in the carriage, which was attached to the train going to Moscow at six o’clock in the morning. Two nuns stayed with the body overnight, so that in the absence of the hieromonk they could at least read the Psalter with the Gospel and not leave Father neglected alone. At five o’clock in the morning, Father’s spiritual children flocked from the hotel and houses to the train to the station. They opened the carriage, served a memorial service and set off. The mourners occupied two carriages, and three nuns and an Optina hieromonk rode in the funeral carriage. Three lines were assigned for us nuns: three went from Golutvin to Moscow, the other three from Moscow to Sukhinichi (night), the third from Sukhinichi to Kozelsk. I got into the second line: Moscow–Sukhinichi. At about one o'clock in the afternoon we arrived in Moscow, where the carriage with the Elder's body was transported from the Ryazan station to the Bryansk station. It was possible to go further only at 9.20 pm. Requiem services were served all day, as new spiritual children of Father, who did not have the opportunity to come to Golutvin, constantly came and came to the carriage. All day long the audience changed on the platform: men, ladies, youth, monks, clergy, who dressed and served litias and funeral services. Some sing, some cry, some pray earnestly on their knees, some make their way up the stairs into the carriage, bow, and kiss the coffin. The candles brought by the worshipers are burning brightly, the cross of flowers is white, the banners are swaying - everything together rather resembles some kind of celebration, it’s as if we are all serving at some shrine, and not just paying our last debt to the deceased. From Moscow to Sukhinichi I had the opportunity to travel with the coffin. We left Moscow with a prayer service to the Savior, the Mother of God, St. Barsanuphius and Rev. Sergius for a safe journey. We ate and drank tea in the carriage; Requiem services were served at large stations, and the Psalter was read on the way, taking turns. In Sukhniichy, due to some oversight by the railway authorities, our carriage fell behind the train to Kozelsk, and then we were sent separately. In Kozelsk we were met by a small group of Optina residents: three hieromonks, one hierodeacon, and choristers. The coffin was placed on the road and they began the final journey. We stopped several times in the field before Kozelsk for a litany, and when we entered the city, we walked through one square, really, for almost half an hour; As soon as we move after the litia, someone again separates from the crowd and asks for a new litia. And do you know who gave the money? During my five trips to Optina, the Kozel beggars who came to Father for alms every day became familiar in my eyes. And so they gave the monks pennies on lithium. In Optina Pustyn we were greeted solemnly: on the other side, at the ferry, the whole brotherhood gathered with Fr. Theodosius at the head (father’s close disciple and successor to his abbess at the Skete), with banners and candles. As soon as the ferry landed, skits rushed from the shore, lifted the coffin, accepted the icons and banners that accompanied the body from Golutvin, and went to the Vvedensky (summer) Cathedral, where a memorial service was celebrated. At the end of it, I saw Fr. Anatoly [Potapov], coming out through the side doors. I went up to him to be blessed: “God bless him,” he raised his eyes and recognized me. “You orphan!..” That’s when I couldn’t stand it... An hour later we went in procession with the coffin to the Skete, and we were all allowed there 522. Again a memorial service, they carried the coffin around the skete church and returned back to the monastery. We walked past the archimandrite 523, someone noticed that Archimandrite Xenophon was looking at the procession at the window. He was very sick, almost dying. They said he had liver cancer and something in his kidneys. Supported by his cell attendants, he looked after the coffin, and his sad look said: “You and I will not be parted for many days.” In the evening there was a funeral vigil, and the next day, Tuesday of Holy Week, after mass, a farewell word and an excerpt from the Elder’s will were read from the Optina residents. I don’t remember the excerpt; they promised to write it off. Then they carried out the coffin, surrounded the church, and approached the grave dug next to the grave of Fr. Anatoly (Zertsalov), father’s mentor and elder. The inside of the grave is lined with tiles, there is a board over the coffin, then a vault of bricks filled with cement, and earth on top. There is a tall white cross in which is embedded a small icon of the Dormition of the Mother of God, in front of it is a lantern-lamp and the inscription on the cross: “Archimandrite Barsanuphius, died on April 1, 1913.” By evening, the grave was covered with turf, and the hermits made a large cross from monastery pine needles and cypress. The cross came out longer than the grave and wider than it, and its edges hugged the grave. In the evening Fr. Innocent, and then Fr. Palladium served a memorial service over the grave, and Fr. Theodosius called us to the Skete, to the priest’s cell. Everything there was preserved as it was: the same icons, the same furniture, paper icons on the window, as if the Elder had started handing them out and never finished. On the table in the prayer room there is a memorial cup for everyone with holy oil and a tassel on it, as if our Father had left it there just yesterday. Only the Angel with the praying woman 524 is not at the stove, and I don’t know where he is. This is where I had to cry! Both days about. Theodosius served in the cell of the funeral service, anointed with the priest's oil, distributed leaflets and pictures. On the day of the burial, they brought everything that was possible to everyone in the hotels to commemorate the Elder, and even a spool of tea and four lumps of sugar to where the nuns were staying. On the same day Fr. Theodosius held a tea party in the hut. We all sat down on the benches and were served cups of tea and white bread. It was impossible to offer more food out of respect for the Holy Week fast. From Fr. Feodosia, it seemed to me, was chilly, but maybe it was just the restraint of a distressed person who did not want to give vent to his feelings. Father’s scribe conveyed to me his advice, but not the commandment, for all of their spiritual children to seek guidance from Fr. Feodosius, but for now I feel that it is too hard, that will happen later. From some people who love me, I received expressions of sympathy and even “horror for me” - I thank you for your sympathy, but I think my situation does not inspire horror yet. Looking at my father’s other children, I felt happier than them: they cut me off from the world, they transplanted me to a monastery, he blessed my first steps in it, and on my last meeting with him, in February, on the eve of his dying illness, I received advice for the rest of my life and his blessing. I am glad that under the Elder I managed to take a decisive step, which without him would have been even more difficult. Now, having calmed down somewhat from the tears, having come to my senses from the journey, I think one thing: a large period of life is over, spiritual infancy is over, there is no one else to nurse me like a little child, as Father nursed me. And it was not in vain that God sent me such a precious gift as the almost six-year guidance of the Elder. He sowed - we must grow, he lit a spark - we must not extinguish it, he began - we must finish. He gave two talents - you need to acquire the other two so as not to appear unrequited on the day of universal response. But there is no strength, no skill, and all that remains is to ask God: Lord, help! Lord, give me some sense! Lord, guide me! Lord, through the prayers of our deceased, but eternally alive for me, Elder, Hieroarchimandrite Schemamonk Barsanuphius, save and have mercy on us all! I ask Margarita Fedorovna to forward this message like this: Here, Zvezdinka, village Gogina, to Anna Aleksandrovna Yanishevskaya. I ask Anna Alexandrovna to convey to Fr. Alexander Troitsky. Father Fr. Alexandra, asking for his holy prayers and blessings, please forward to: Shatki, Moscow-Kaz. and. d., Seraphim-Ponetaevsky Convent, to nun Antonina Mikhailovna Rozova, whom I sincerely congratulate on her tonsure and ask to bow deeply to Mother Seraphim. God bless her for her card. If possible, return this letter to me, as I would like to keep it as a keepsake. Then, I apologize to all my recipients for making it so difficult for them by forwarding the letter, but I want to notify everyone, but I don’t have time. And I’ve been writing this letter in fits and starts for a week now. I ask everyone to pray for me, a sinner, so that the Lord will help me without Father, as he helped me with him. Forgive me, everyone. For God's sake. I finish the letter on Easter - and greet everyone: Christ is Risen! Sinful novice Elena Shamonina. (Optina archive. 1913) 5. Novice Elena Shamonina to Abbot Feodosius (Pomortsev) Your Reverence, dear Father Fr. Theodosius! I received a “Wreath for the grave of Father Fr. Barsanuphia,” I read the announcement printed at the end of the book about the delivery of materials for the life story of the Elder to you - and so I began to write. However, I don’t know how useful my writing will be to you. Father’s conversations, of which I have few, were recorded by me personally, but since many spiritual daughters copied them from me, I think someone who lives permanently in Optina has already delivered them to you. Then, according to the surviving notes that I kept during my trips to the Elder, according to the memories that were etched into my soul, I began to write “Memories of Father.” But there are difficulties here too: I don’t know how to write with restraint, the way they write for the public; I can’t do what I should perhaps keep silent about, and I talk too much about myself. Now my thought tells me that out of vanity I took up these memories in order to talk about myself. But when I write something related to the memory of my dear Father, it’s as if I’m back in Optina, in his cell, hearing his voice again, and now, in my orphanhood, this is a great joy for me. Therefore, I decided, without listening to the thoughts that embarrassed me, to write what I remember, what I experienced under Father, what I heard from him - just for my own sake, but should I send it to you? Is this job right for you? And are the conversations necessary, two of which I have copied and attached just in case? Of course, I completely leave it to you to throw out everything superfluous from my memories and fully rely on your discretion, because you are not only the editor of the proposed book, but also the Elder’s successor in clergy. Trusting you, as I used to trust him, I ask you very much that my name be unknown to anyone except you. Then I can’t help but say about my bewilderment regarding one of the conversations. The fact is that Father highly praised us for the book “On the Caucasus Mountains” and gave it to spiritual children; and I have a copy with his inscription. He took excerpts from this book as the topic for one of his conversations. Meanwhile, now a whole storm has arisen because of it, and even now the Holy Synod has forbidden monks to read it. The Elder gave it to me on the last Christmas in Optina, that is, at the end of 1911. In June 1912, in Golutvin, during a conversation he asked me: “Have you read anything during this time?” I replied that I had read the book he gave me twice. “That’s what I wanted to tell you about. This is how it turns out. It turns out there are some mistakes there. Remember, power is not in the word, not in the name, but in the named Christ Himself. That's it; It turns out that the entire preface of this book should be thrown out, but the book itself is good!” This is the last I heard about this book from Father. All this doesn’t bother me at all; well, the Elder made a mistake or simply, without going into theological subtleties, saw the good in this book that is in it - that’s all. The great saints made mistakes, maybe Father made a mistake and didn’t see it either. This in no way diminishes my love for him and my reverence for his memory. But if the Elder’s ill-wishers find out about this, so as not to give rise to new malicious antics, I want to protect him from them, already deceased, if they did not protect the living one. You could skip this conversation altogether, but it is very good; He teaches so clearly and simply how to resort to the Jesus Prayer, how to live it. I'm thinking, shouldn't I publish a link to the book at the beginning, and in the middle - a few words about its compiler? Knowing Father’s strict obedience to the Church, I know that he would now take these books away from us and obey the order of the Synod. But will those who slandered, slandered, and sent him to Golutvin understand all this? Excuse me, dear Fr. Theodosius, that this letter of mine has become so long, and let me know if you find it possible - whether my writings are necessary for you, whether they are suitable for you, and whether I should continue sending them. If necessary, I will send them gradually as I rewrite them. If you don’t need the sent papers, would you hand them over to Maria Vasilievna Azanchevskaya for me? Please St. Your prayers, Your Reverence. It’s not even a year since I entered the monastery, where I feel very lonely. We have no trace of anything like eldership; and with all the perplexities, mental struggles, sorrows and sins, I am completely, completely alone in the monastery. And now Father has passed away - that’s why I especially need the prayers and blessings that I ask of you. I bow to you on earth and apologize for the verbosity. My address: Moscow, Petrovsko-Razumovskoye, Kazan Golovin Monastery. Hospital. Unworthy Elena Shamonina, novice of the Kazan Golovin Monastery. 6. Boris Ossovsky - Abbot Feodosius (Pomortsev) Petropavlovsk, September 3, 1914 Dear Fr. Theodosius! First of all, I ask you to accept my sincere deep gratitude for your attention to me and for sending the poems of Elder Barsanuphius. You brought me pleasure by this: the Elder’s poems are imbued with the quiet light of peace, peace of mind, hot, sincere love for the Lord; they reflect his pure, loving soul. I regret that I can’t tell you as much about him as you might think, but I’ll tell you something anyway. The first time I met Pavel Ivanovich Plikhankov (later Elder Barsanuphius) was in 1876 in Orenburg; This was the year when my late mother brought my brother and me from the Astrakhan province, where my father served, to Orenburg to enter a military gymnasium. We stayed in an apartment in the house of the Plikhankovs, who later became our good and dear friends. The Plikhankov family was small, it consisted of only three people: the old mother of Pavel Ivanovich, his aunt and Pavel Ivanovich himself, a young, recently promoted officer of the Orenburg Cossack army. What a pity that now we see Russian families like the Plikhankov family less and less often. This was an old, strong Russian family, and it was strong primarily because this family was bound by the strongest thing that exists in the whole world of God: ardent and sincere faith in the Lord and the desire to live according to His commandments. Harmony and peace reigned in this family. Pavel Ivanovich, although he was already an officer, in his mother’s eyes remained the same little child that she had become accustomed to considering him from the day he was born. On his part, I never heard a single objection from his mother and did not see that even one of his mother’s demands was not fulfilled by him. The life of Pavel Ivanovich in his young officer years was completely different from the life of his comrades, even starting with the furnishings of his room, which was more like a clean and comfortable cell than the room of a single officer. I remember this room well. I remember the icons in the front corner, the lamp glowing in front of them, the sofa and two armchairs in white covers; a neatly made bed, a table in the wall, on which a clock was placed under a glass cover, and a shelf with books. There was never any drink in this room, no unpleasant speech was ever heard. Pavel Ivanovich greeted his guests cordially, treated them to tea with cookies and jam, and never served vodka. His comrades loved him for his friendly, kind character, friendly attitude towards everyone and his constant desire to do something good for a person. If anyone had to experience work troubles or any kind of grief, Pavel Ivanovich always tried to help in some way, and, it seems, he himself was often more worried than the person whose fate he was trying to alleviate. For twenty-two years I served in the ranks of the Orenburg Cossack regiments and did not meet a single person who could speak ill of Pavel Ivanovich. Everyone loved him, and he inspired everyone with a feeling of deep respect for him. I have enjoyed Pavel Ivanovich’s love since childhood. Every time before the holiday I came from the military gymnasium on leave, he took me to his place, or he himself came to us and talked with me for a long time, asked about our gymnasium life and made his comments about how we should live. How dear the memories of these evenings are to me, how deeply his pure thoughts penetrated my soul, Pavel Ivanovich himself, perhaps, did not know until the end of his life. Now, when I write these lines to you, I am already almost an old man, but in my soul the pure behests I received from Pavel Ivanovich as a child still glimmer. We were released on leave from the military gymnasium after the all-night vigil, and we didn’t have to show up for mass. Pavel Ivanovich could not agree with this order of things and always took me with him to mass. We went with him mainly to the monastery, where he liked the monastic singing. Pavel Ivanovich often loved to touch upon the question of the greatness of the Lord, His omnipotence. I remember a quiet, dark autumn night when he took me out into the yard, showed me the bright stars and said: “Look, the Lord created all this with His one Word! Oh, how big this world is, you can’t even imagine.” Here he taught me to look for the stars of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, the Polar Star, told me about the size of this star, about the enormous space separating the stars from us, and about how we must love the Lord, who created this world, and do His will. Today I went out into the yard to see the comet. It was the same dark autumn night, the stars were shining just as brightly as then, in the distant time of my childhood. I vividly remember my dear Pavel Ivanovich, and a feeling of warm, deep gratitude for this man fills my soul. This is how I knew Pavel Ivanovich until 1884, since, if I’m not mistaken, it was in this year that he was transferred from Orenburg to Kazan, to the District Headquarters to the position of senior adjutant. My service in the Orenburg army, where Pavel Ivanovich helped me transfer, tore me away from him. Then I had to serve in the Kingdom of Poland, in the Turkestan region, and I completely lost sight of Pavel Ivanovich. Finally, rumors reached me about his tonsure as a monk, but where, to which monastery he went, I could not find out. And only in February of this year in St. Petersburg, at the tomb of Fr. John of Kronstadt, I learned quite by accident that Elder Barsanuphius was Pavel Ivanovich Plikhankov. That seems to be all, dear Fr. Theodosius, what can I tell you about Pavel Ivanovich, Elder Barsanuphius. However, one more small detail. In 1898, I was sent to Kazan, where I no longer found Pavel Ivanovich. I asked all my colleagues about his life. As in Orenburg, everyone kept the fondest memories of him. I learned in Kazan that Pavel Ivanovich never came to services without attending mass. I am happy to share this meager information with you. At the same time, I send five rubles and ask you to serve a memorial service at the grave of Elder Barsanuphius. May God rest his pure soul! (Optina archive. 1914) In the manuscripts there are two spellings of the name of the city in which the Russian hospital was located: Mukden and Mullin. Saint Pitirim, Bishop of Tambov († 1698), canonized on July 28, 1914. Venerable Optina Elder Joseph (Litovkin), monastery leader. The Sarov Hermitage was located in the Tambov province, and Rev. Ambrose Optinsky was born in the village of Bolshaya Lipovitsa, Tambov district. Petition for the leaving of Elder Barsanuphius (appointed abbot of the Kolomna Staro-Golutvin Monastery) in the Optina monastery. Rev. Barnabas of Gethsemane. We bring to the attention of readers two letters from the spiritual daughter of Elder Barsanuphius Elena Shamonina, a novice of the Kazan Golovin Monastery near Moscow, in fact, are a response to the appeal that Optina Pustyn placed in her publication dedicated to the memory of the Optina Elder Schema-Archimandrite Barsanuphius “A Wreath on the Grave of Father” (Moscow, 1913). On the last page, hieromonk (future abbot) Theodosius (Pomortsev), successively, after Fr. Barsanuphius, who became the head of the monastery, the following appeal was published: “Optina Pustyn at the present time [i.e. e. 1913] is preoccupied with collecting materials to compile a biography of the deceased Elder. Therefore, she earnestly asks everyone who has any information about his life and activities, about cases of the grace-filled effect of his prayer, about his insight, about his written and oral instructions, as well as about his life before entering the monastery, to report such information to the address: Kozelsk, Kaluga province, Optina Pustyn, the monastery leader to Hieromonk Theodosius.” Part of the text of P. Elena’s letters is used in “A Wreath on the Grave of Father” (see Section VI of this edition). Kazan Golovinsky Monastery in the Moscow district. See note 504. According to other sources, it was Hieromonk Gabriel. See below: Metropolitan Tryphon (Turkestan) Word at the funeral service for Elder Barsanuphius... Women were usually strictly prohibited from entering the Skete. The abbot's house in the monastery. A painting in the Elder's cell.