Всероссийский пастырь

Future impartial historians of Russian life, describing the second half of the 19th century, will stop with amazement at an extraordinary phenomenon in history, at how a simple Orthodox priest for a quarter of a century attracted the attention of the population throughout Russia, and partly beyond its borders, what influence he had on Orthodox believers, starting with the first son of the Church - the Tsar and ending with millions of unknown laymen, what a marvelous combination of exponents of the national spirit gave life in the person of this shepherd Archpriest Joseph Fudel. Visit to the city of Vilna by Father John of Kronstadt Our city experienced a rare and unprecedented spiritual triumph on October 4, 1893. On this unforgettable day for all true people, a truly “feast of faith and love of Christ” took place in Vilna. Known not only in Russia, but also in other educated states, the deeply revered and filled with reverence of all saints, the prayer book of the Church of Christ, a man of holiness, God's chosen one, Father John of Kronstadt (Archpriest John Ilyich Sergiev), honored on the 4th the city of Vilna not only with his visit, but also with public prayer in churches and private prayer in the houses of individuals he visited, by invitation. A true and apt description of the meeting of everyone’s favorite shepherd and the enthusiasm that swept through all layers of society in a wide wave at the appearance of Father John is beyond human words. The meetings given to Father John in all the churches and institutions he visited were unprecedented meetings: the masses of the people bowed before the greatness of his moral strength, without distinction of education and position, gender and age, nationality and religion. And such meetings are all the more remarkable because they are created by the immediacy of the living feeling of human hearts, without any preliminary preparations; they breathed Christian sincerity and simplicity, which the ordinary everyday life of our city, taken almost by surprise by this event, could only provide. There were no official notices about the passage of the revered shepherd through Vilna, but private rumors about his trip to Warsaw had already been circulating around the city since the last days of the month of September, and all the trains arriving at the Vilna station from St. Petersburg attracted a lot of people. On the eve of Father John's arrival, representatives of the clergy and some individuals in the city received private notifications that he considered it necessary to go to meet the revered shepherd at the Sventsyany station, where, upon the arrival of the St. Petersburg train, he had the good fortune to introduce himself to Father John and receive his fatherly, affectionate conversation. On the way from Sventsyan to Vilna, it became clear from the conversation that Father John wanted to go to the Lesna Monastery not through Baranovichi-Brest, but through Warsaw, and that he mistakenly boarded the wrong train in St. Petersburg, as a result of which he was forced to have a stop in Vilna until 7 o’clock in the evening. Moreover, Father John declared his custom of celebrating the Divine Liturgy daily and, having asked Father Mitrofan at which church he served, whether he had the opportunity to stay and whether it was possible to perform a divine service in his church, he decisively expressed his intention to pray in the St. Nicholas Church, inviting Father Mitrofan to participate in this, who did not want to believe such unexpected happiness for Vilna, for the St. Nicholas parish and especially for his home. With this intention, the venerable Father John approached Vilna, and already from the Vileika station his carriage was filled with many people seeking his blessing, prayer and advice. The arrival of the train in Vilna is truly a biblical picture: crowds of thousands filled the landing stage of the railway station, besieged the entire station building, many grabbed onto the still moving train, cried with joy, prayed, shouted, some fell to the ground, others were baptized. Healthy and sick, rich and poor, oppressed by fate and happy with the life of the body, but seeking spiritual consolation - all merged in one desire to be blessed by the man of God. In the director's chambers, through which Father John was sent, the people literally carried the venerable shepherd in their arms, rushed towards him with such force that the windows and doors of the room could not resist, grabbed the edges of his clothes, and the authorities barely managed to lead the shepherd to the entrance, where he, sitting in an open carriage with the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, headed to his apartment in anticipation of the start of the service. The public, who followed with intense attention the departure of Father John from the railway station to the city, having learned about the place of stop and service of the most venerable shepherd, rushed in a stormy stream along the streets of the city leading to the St. Nicholas Church. As soon as the distinguished guest had time to enter the church house, the apartment of the rector of the church, the church yard and the wide street adjacent to the church were instantly filled with people eager for the blessing and prayerful help of the minister of the church, Father John. The doors of the abbot's apartment were not locked; there was a constant ebb and flow of people in it; some hurriedly tried to approach Father John, others, having received the blessing, generously gave way to the newcomers. Here one could see the venerable mother abbess of the Vilna convent with the sisters of the monastery, representatives of the city clergy, high-ranking officials of the military and civil departments, persons of the highest educated society, officials and educational departments and many commoners without distinction of religion. So about 3/4 of an hour passed while preparations were made for the service in the church. According to the rector’s report that everything was ready for the service, Father John, surrounded by a crowd of people, proceeded to the church, which was already so crowded with people that entry into the altar was almost impossible. On the solea, in front of the Royal Doors, the rector of the church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, met the most venerable pastor with a cross in his hands and in vestments and greeted with the following words: “Blessed be your entry, prayer book of the Russian land, into our city, into our parish and into this most ancient church!” After which Father John venerated the holy cross, allowing the father rector to kiss it, and entered the altar, where Father John was given holy water, with which the venerable shepherd sprinkled himself and the father rector of the church. Having donned sacred clothes, Father John went out to the soleya and began to serve the canon to the daily saint, and he himself read out all the poems and prayers prescribed by the Church. Reading the most reverent shepherd is extraordinary for the ear and for the heart: his measured, sublime, completely distinct and pure voice can be heard clearly throughout the entire church, despite the fact that the shepherd is cramped on all sides by the praying people. Every word he uttered showed that the reverent reader, as filled with a high prayerful mood and deep spiritual experience, put into each word he read all the power, completeness and depth of its content that the Church put into it at the very moment of compiling her prayers. Just as then the living, immediate religious feeling of the compilers of church prayers and canons burst forth in abundant springs from the depths of believing hearts illuminated by grace and poured out into various forms of fiery prayer words, so now in the blessed soul of Father John all church prayers are resurrected in all their freshness, strength and spontaneity. From his reverent lips flows not someone else’s prayer word, not someone else’s thought and feelings experienced in his heart, but words, thoughts and feelings that he assimilated in the Church and received by his religious soul from the Church to such an extent that they became identified with his spiritual mood, became his inner content and life; he himself is all in these prayerful words and sighs - these have already become his own words and thoughts, and the fire of faith and love of the first compilers of sacred chants embraces this prayer book of our contemporary Church of Christ with a bright flame. And such reading and prayers are irresistible! They attract the attention of the absent-minded, warm the cold, encourage the despondent - they merge everyone into the unity of faith and love... After this, it is clear what an inexplicable religious consolation, what great power and significance the offering of the Bloodless Sacrifice on the altar of the Lord could have had by the prayer book of the God of love - Father John. Although the liturgy began quite late, no one felt the slightest fatigue; everyone was absorbed in the sacred rites being performed until they completely forgot about earthly interests. Father John performed the Divine Liturgy in the co-service of the rector of the church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, with the participation of the cathedral protodeacon and deacon. Thanks to the well-known kindness and courtesy of the father of the rector of the seminary, students of the sixth grade of the seminary performed singing in the choir with the usual diligence and talented art. A majestic and indescribable picture was presented by the altar and the entire church of St. Nicholas during the celebration of the liturgy there by Father John: the entire city clergy, led by the father of the rector of the seminary, Archimandrite Alexy and the cathedral archpriest P.Ya. Levitsky, as well as the military clergy and monastics with their mother, Abbess Antonia, filled the altar, looking with a feeling of deep reverence at Father John standing before the holy throne, like a bright lamp burning with the flame of contrite prayer and shining with heavenly kindness and purity of faith and love. He was all faith and prayer; all the sacred rites of the service were an outpouring, as it were, of his own spirit before the merciful God, to whom he stood, as holy men stood, full of awe and reverence, vividly feeling His presence and greatness and pronouncing with the immediacy of faith, as if in the Person of the Existing God, the exclamations and prayers of the liturgy. Requests for commemoration, notes and letters with names poured into the altar in countless numbers. Father John remembered everyone, prayed for everyone with the same love and warmth. From time to time he humbly bowed his head before the holy throne and went deeply, deeply into himself and prayed, or approached the altar and, folding his hands in tenderness on his chest, tearfully and quietly prayed for those who asked him to do so. The altar was truly heaven on earth. Meanwhile, the rest of the church, filled with people, caught with bated breath every action and word of God’s servant, who raised to God all the needs and aspirations of those present in the church with complete self-denial and love. When Father John went out through the Royal Doors to the people, the people bowed to the ground in deep reverence, kissed the hems of his sacred robes, and touched his feet with tears of tenderness. The Vilna governor and many high-ranking officials were present at the liturgy in the church. The entire church was filled with extraordinary religious tension, complete silence and reverence reigned; it seemed as if the Heavenly Powers themselves were then hovering under the arches of the small St. Nicholas Church, proclaiming to people grace from God, love and forgiveness. The liturgy ended at about 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Because it was late, Father John refused to perform a prayer service and confession, since he had to introduce himself to His Eminence, as well as the Governor-General, at the bishop’s country house and visit, by invitation, the sick and monasteries. Exiting the church after the liturgy through the middle part of the church turned out to be completely impossible, since the worshipers represented one continuous impenetrable mass of people, and therefore Father John with all the clergy headed through the side altar door. But even outside the church, the same touching sight was presented to the eyes: the church yard and the street outside the church fence were crowded with people, the poor and sick threw themselves at the feet of Father John, mothers with tears of tenderness raised their children in their arms, children stretched out their hands to him - everyone cried out to God’s chosen one for help and consolation. Father John, apparently greatly excited and, as it were, elevated above the level of his usual state of spirit after the highest moments of living, heartfelt communication with God through tender prayer, filled with the Holy Spirit from the closest communication with Him in the Sacrament of the Eucharist (Communion) sincerely performed by him, stood before the people in the greatness of the ingenuous directness of faith, in the irresistible charm of heavenly purity and in power the all-conquering power of Divine love. This was the moment that most clearly and vividly showed where lies the essence and power of the irresistible charm of this prayer book of the Church of Christ and why universal, nothing less than enthusiastic and tender national admiration for this powerful Christian-moral force is so natural. This point is worthy of dwelling on it, although, it should be noted, the human word is powerless here. Departing from the altar of the Lord, where Father John had just been in personal, living, mediated by church forms, communication with the Supreme Personal Being and inhaled the breath of the Living Personal Spirit, the God of love, forgiveness and grace, natural by nature for the rational human soul, where he sincerely poured out his soul before the One who created it and who now lives and exalts it, he seemed to appear from the land of light and truth, mercy and love, truth, goodness and beauty. Looking at God's true servant at that moment, every impartial person saw that he was, in comparison with ordinary people, just a normal person, let in by God into the world of sinful and sorrowful people, all transparent in childlike purity, trusting, benevolent, loving, but strong and firm in his purity. On him was the imprint of that Personal Spirit, Who, with gentle love, but at the same time with imperious calm, freely looked through him at the crowd of people, restless in sins and sorrows, in earthly worries and lusts - people depressed by the burden of self-indulgent aspirations, bowing before the abundance of spiritual light and the greatness of moral strength and seeking only mercy, forgiveness and refreshment, consolation and reinforcement. Before the people stood alive, taken from the people and limited, like every person, but more than others, purified by sincere repentance, sincere faith, sincere acceptance from the Church of the Sacraments and prayers in the purity of life, the image of the One who created every person in His image. It seemed that this man, with the indicated cleansing means, seemed to shake off the dust of earthly and carnal wisdom and, trampling the disastrous craftiness of reckless doubts, appeared before everyone with an expanded mind, heart and will, embracing a larger than usual range of objects. By these means, he introduced into his spiritual world a new positive and bright content, which made him a man in a better, superior to many others, sense of the word, more reflective of God - a chosen vessel of His grace and power. Those around him seemed to be moral pygmies, powerless to raise their eyes and minds drooping to the ground in order to see the source of this grace, strength and true life of their spirit... And at the same time, how much deep humility, kindness and mercy he had for everyone! “Hello, brothers and sisters! - he said. “Hello, fathers, mothers and children, hello, friends!” You, as one could hear in these addresses, are the same images of our Same Common Father, Personal, Free God. Yes, these affectionate words “fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters and children” sounded in the conscience of many, many people as an incomparable in meekness, but powerful, deep call to brotherhood and kinship in the God of love, purity and truth, as a reproach to the reigning sin in the world that internally divides people and slavery to passions, which deprived these very words in the mouths of people of their true content, leaving only the form. When Father John said this to the people, in his fiery but fatherly kind eyes and in his every movement there was a soul-piercing light. Not everyone could withstand this gaze, and no one could remain indifferent. The tears and cries of Christian and non-Christian people served as proof of this. Father John hastily, but fatherly-tenderly caressed and, as it were, accepted these numerous images of God, his “brothers and sisters” into his pure soul; he wished everyone well from the fullness of his soul, blessed everyone, gave to the poor what they brought to him for prayer and remembrance. This was a picture of true Christianity, created not again and not for the first time taking place before the eyes of people, but for the millionth time reproduced with the eyes of the world since the beginning of Christianity by the pure souls of people who sincerely lived and are living in God. But there was no way to bless everyone, and Father John hurried to enter the church house. Having visited the apartment of the father of Archpriest John Shverubovich on the way and was greeted joyfully by the owner, the venerable shepherd went to the apartment of the rector of the church. Meanwhile, the persistent and uncontrollable cries of the people filling the courtyard and street for blessing did not stop. Father John went out onto the balcony. His appearance caused an explosion of popular feelings of joy and tenderness; the crowd, as one person, bared their heads and began to fuss. Father John, taking off his hat and crossing himself, blessed the people on all sides with a warm, warm fatherly blessing, smiling affectionately and bowing warmly to everyone. Everything fell silent and seemed to freeze. There were tears in everyone's eyes! Father John entered the apartment. Here the rooms and staircase turned out to be crowded with visitors, at the head of which one could see the city governor of Vilna, the city vice-governor and his wife, Major General Svishchevsky and his wife, all the clergy and many high-ranking officials of every rank. Father John had a lively, friendly and lengthy conversation with the city governor and the city vice-governor and blessed everyone present separately. At the same time, they began to bring to him some sick people, for whom Father John fervently and lovingly prayed, forgetting that it was already the second hour of the day and that he was still on an empty stomach and after the journey and service. Having satisfied all those present, Father John drank some tea and, getting into the carriage kindly offered by the father of the rector of the seminary, went through a dense crowd of people, accompanied by the father of the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, to the Holy Trinity Monastery and to the hotbed of spiritual enlightenment - the Lithuanian seminary. Although Father John’s visit to the Holy Trinity Monastery and the Lithuanian seminary located next to it, following the service in the St. Nicholas Church, was finally decided almost a few minutes before its implementation, nevertheless, all of Vilna, who knew about the stay of the highly respected Kronstadt shepherd in the city, was already concentrated here by the time of his arrival. The people stood in a thick wall and on the street, under the majestic entrance gates to the monastery, filling the entire path to the monastery church, and the entire vast monastery courtyard, and the spacious church of the Holy Trinity. Entry into the monastery courtyard was extremely difficult and was only made possible by the excessive efforts of the police authorities. But the feelings of the people seemed to despise danger and inconvenience: many threw themselves into the carriage at the feet of Father John, grabbed his hands, others threw him letters and notes asking for prayer. The sight of the entire monastery and seminary at the time of Father John’s arrival was indescribable! The mop of human heads was agitated and a wide wave covered the foot of the monastery church, which was flaunting the grandeur, standing majestically, like an unshakable oasis, in the midst of a restless crowd of thousands of people. Father John did not go to the church or through the church: he was literally carried and drawn by the people with their own hands. With abundant, festive lighting, the Church of the Holy Trinity had an unusually solemn appearance and, with the majestic and animated singing of the troparion to the Most Holy Theotokos by the seminary students, it produced an overall marvelous impression. Having proceeded through the Royal Doors to the altar and venerated the holy altar, Father John put on his stole and, with a cross in his hands, went out to venerate the miraculous icon of the Mother of God. Having bowed to the ground before her, Father John fell to the image and prayed deeply, concentratedly and quietly for several minutes. The whole church fell silent at that moment: from the pure soul of God’s servant flowed at that moment a holy prayer to the Lady of the world for the people, for their faith, for love. Yes, it was the sacrifice of the meek Abel, the fiery Elijah, rising like a quiet cloud from the earth to heaven! Then, once again making a prostration, the prayer book of Christ, with tears in his eyes, overshadowed the people with the holy cross, all swaying like a wave under the shadow of the cross, and again headed to the altar, for a long time, however, held back by the sick who fell at his feet. The path from the church to the seminary building turned out to be completely cut off by a crowd of thousands, and, seeing this, Father Rector led the most respected pastor through the side altar door and the monastery building through the internal passage directly into his apartment. There is nothing to say about what kind of procession it was: it seems that if their own father had been torn away and taken away from his children who passionately loved him, the latter would not have rushed after him with such strength and self-forgetfulness as the people rushed into the monastery building after Father John. In the apartment of the rector of the seminary, the city clergy, the heads and teachers of theological educational institutions, the auditor of these educational institutions who was at that time in the city of Vilna, the actual state councilor Grigorevsky and many other persons who filled the rector’s chambers gathered. Here Father John blessed everyone who approached him and retired for a few minutes to a special room to talk with people who asked him for a separate conversation. Meanwhile, the hospitable host had already prepared everything for the dinner table, and, upon the exit of Father John, the distinguished guest, the clergy and several of the secular persons were invited to the table. But even at the table, Father John had no time to devote himself to simple spiritual conversation: he had to listen more to requests for visiting the sick and for spiritual help. By the way, right there at the table, Father John was invited by someone he knew from St. Petersburg to visit a sick child on Yuryevsky Lane, and since they were given a promise in the St. Nicholas Church to visit the sick eight-year-old son of medical military inspector I.S. Samokhvalov, then Father John hastened to abandon the long treat and, despite the strong requests of the kind host to share the meal to the end, he tasted only a little wine in honor of the host and only one dinner dish, friendly thanked the rector’s father for the warm welcome, congratulated him on his new appointment to the episcopal department and, saying goodbye to his companions, left the rector’s apartment. In the seminary corridor, through which the path to the exit lay, young students of the seminary, preparing themselves for the same high rank of clergy, had long been impatiently awaiting the God-blessed shepherd of the Church. The meeting of the venerable shepherd with the students of the seminary is the meeting of the Apostle of Christ with the children of the primal Church of Christ, as they are described in the books of the New Testament! With what childlike trust and tenderness these pets, still young children of Christ, looked at the meek but strong-spirited bearer of abundant Divine grace - the venerable shepherd! And with what paternal love the chosen servant of God, Father John, greeted them! “Hello,” he said, “gentlemen seminarians! Hello, future shepherds of the Church of Christ, my brothers! Hello my friends! “Pray for us, chosen one of God! Bless us, prayer book of Christ!” the young pets answered unanimously and with tears in their eyes. Pressed on all sides by those surrounding him in a narrow corridor, Father John stopped and meekly, in a friendly manner, but looking intently at his young friends, continued his truly apostolic conversation. “May God give you bounties,” he said, “prosperity in life and faith and spiritual reason (the words of the liturgical prayer)! May He enlighten you with the knowledge of His holy will and may He prepare from you His servants of truth and love to enlighten people with the light of knowledge of God and a God-pleasing life, so that the world may know its Savior Christ!” When he said this, it seemed that this loving shepherd of Christ wanted to pour his powerful pastoral spirit into the young hearts of future shepherds. His benevolence was a deep movement of the heart living in Christ, a movement that generated in the hearts of his listeners a living feeling of the closeness and power of the truly existing God, the Savior of people. Speaking meekly, but with strength and from the depths of his soul, he naturally showed them the content of his inner world - a world full of genuine love for people and spiritual beauty, light and reason, he breathed on them the gracious breath of his life in Christ and, as it were, touched the edge of his blessed heart to their soft hearts. When Father John was among the young candidates for the priesthood in a fatherly conversation, every impartial spectator felt that the inner man of this servant of God stood next to and face to face with the inner man of each of the listeners and, moreover, seemed to embrace them all in his warm embrace, full of brotherly love. His apparently simple address and unartificial words left in the lives of our pets moments of moral bliss indescribable by the human pen and unknown to the listeners of human wisdom and sweetness of spirit. This was the language of Christ, the language of the Gospel. Such language instantly ignites human souls, and, of course, the listeners, like babies to their mother, rushed to Christ’s shepherd, as if their young souls wanted to join his blessed spirit. They freely and out of love for him surrendered selflessly to his fatherly heart and word, just as this spiritual ruler himself, in turn, freely and out of love with childlike sincere trust and heart surrendered and is surrendering to Christ. “Study, friends,” the shepherd of Christ continued, addressing the seminarians, “diligently study all sciences, learn through them the greatness and wisdom of the Creator, be well-behaved and obedient to the Church of God and your mentors, and God will increase your souls to the measure of perfect age (Eph. 4:13). May God bless, strengthen and grow you with wisdom and strength of spirit!..” Here followed an explosion of youthful joy and tenderness, and Father John, showered with kisses from the seminarians, headed to the exit, where, getting into the carriage deliberately provided to him by the Governor-General, he departed to Yuryevsky Lane amid popular cries. Here Father John did not stay long and immediately after prayer at the child’s bedside he departed in a carriage to the palace, where he spent a longer time in conversation with the Governor General, Lieutenant General, Senator P.V. Orzhevsky and his wife Natalia Ivanovna. At the same time, Her Excellency, as a representative of charitable institutions in the city of Vilna, invited Father John to visit the House of Diligence (on Antokol), during the establishment of which Father John gave a blessing and a material donation. The Good Shepherd joyfully accepted this invitation and, together with Her Excellency N.I. Orzhevskoy left the palace for the House of Diligence. By the time Father John arrived at the House of Diligence, a large public had gathered here: the Vilna governor, Privy Councilor Baron N.A. arrived here. Grevenitz and his wife, General Bertholdt, H.A. Beltsova, M.K. Bunin, members of the “Good Kopek” society, the administration of the military hospital, nurses, led by the assistant to the head of the community A.N. Spasskaya and older sister A.B. Pavlova, the father of the rector of the seminary with the rector of the Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, the priest of the hospital church I.M. Pogodin and many other people. Upon the arrival of Father John with Natalia Ivanovna Orzhevskaya, all the officials present, as well as the sisters of mercy, were introduced to Father John, and the good shepherd, having greeted everyone as “brothers and sisters,” blessed everyone and headed to the house where the workers were housed. These latter, lined up in rows at the entrance to their premises, greeted the highly revered shepherd with a deep reverent bow, to which Father John, taking off his hat, responded with a friendly address: “Hello, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, working people!” In the very premises of the House of Diligence, everything was prepared for the prayer service, and, upon the entrance of Father John, the priest of the hospital church, I.M. Pogodin began to serve a prayer service to the Savior, and Father John himself sang everything required according to the charter of the Church. At the end of the prayer service, the poor-loving shepherd inspected the premises of the poor working people, praised the condition of these premises, and, going out to the poor, the merciful shepherd began to talk to them in a fatherly manner and distribute alms without counting money, how much his gracious right hand took out of each person’s pocket. Filled with tears of gratitude from the working people and the tender well-wishes of all those present, Father John left the House of Diligence for the apartment of the military medical inspector, actual state councilor I.S. Samokhvalova, on Zavalnaya Street, where he was invited in the morning to pray over a sick child. In the apartment of I.S. Samokhvalova, upon the arrival of Father John, were the owner’s relatives, the chief of staff of the Vilna Military District, Major General L.N., who lived in a nearby apartment. Sobolev and his wife, the rector of the St. Nicholas Church - who accompanied him everywhere - Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev and several other persons. Here Father John, turning to the icons, standing in front of a table with water for consecration, prayed long and fervently. Those who do not know and have not seen what is called true prayer could receive a living and complete understanding of it by seeing this true prayer book of Christ at the present moment. He, a servant of the God of love and mercy, like His ardently loving son, with an open soul, simply, sincerely and with complete trust and devotion, turns to his Father, outlining the needs of his beloved brothers and sisters, in whose mournful family he is. His prayer is truly an elevation of the mind and heart to God, as all Christians are taught about this from childhood! And how the words of prayers flow from the depths of his soul in an effortlessly free stream: their content far outstrips their external form and ritual expression in his heart. During prayer, Father John kneels several times, stretches out his hands to God in front of His sacred images and, with childish tears of hot sincerity, out loud to everyone (he reads all prayers loudly) calls on the merciful Him to be a merciful Father at this moment for those asking Hero for help. “Like a baby in the arms of a mother who is much ailing about his fate,” says Father John, “extends his weak hands to her face and tenderly looks into her eyes full of maternal love, waiting for her to show sympathy for herself and maternal affection, so we, believers, to You, God of love and mercy, stretch out our children’s hands in faith, although stained by the untruths of life, and direct our pleading glances to You. Accept us as a mother does her child, hear us as she hears her own child!..” In addressing the Mother of God, the prayer book of Christ begs Her to extend Her maternal feeling of pure love to all who, through redemption, have become brothers and sisters of Her Divine Son, to be the Mother and Intercessor of all, through heartfelt faith and love for Her Son, abiding and with Her in communion of living childhood feelings of trust and love. “You,” says the prayer book of God, “the Mother of all Christians, see the needs and tears of all those who have trusted in Your Son and for everyone you raise Your Most Pure hands to Him, bowing Him to mercy - now, at this moment, raise Your Motherly hands for us who ask for help, for we are Your children, but only the spiritually poor and weak...” All those present are also on their knees in awe. After the prayers, Father John performed the blessing of water, gave everyone present a drink of holy water, which he himself partook of, and, approaching the sick man, affectionately asked him about the suffering he was experiencing and anointed the sore spots with holy water. Then, having blessed and kissed the sick man, Father John took a deep breath and said goodbye to I.S.’s family. Samokhvalov and moved to the apartment of the chief of the district headquarters L.N. Soboleva. Here, in the presence of Natalia Ivanovna Orzhevskaya and many high-ranking officials, Father John performed a short prayer for the health and salvation of the pious family that invited him, and, having blessed everyone and said goodbye to Natalia Ivanovna Orzhevskaya, who had placed the governor-general’s carriage at the disposal of the venerable shepherd, accompanied by the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, he left for the countryside Bishop's house "Trinopolis" to introduce himself to His Eminence. The natural route from Zavalnaya Street to the suburban bishop’s house “Trinopol” runs along the streets of Trokskaya, Blagoveshchenskaya, Dvortsovaya, Moskovskaya and the suburb of Snipishki. Since the Miracle Church-school, now completed in rough form, is being built on Snipishki (in honor of the miracle of the Archangel Michael), past which Father John was to pass, his companion, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, at the beginning of the journey asked the venerable pastor to make a stop at the Miracle Church, enter it, offer prayers and convey his blessing for the success of the holy work of building a church-school, to which good Father John agreed. But in order to visually familiarize the highly respected pastor with the internal layout of the church-school, there was a need for a lithographed plan of this building, which was kept at Father Mitrofan’s home, as a result of which the path was changed, and Father John directly followed German and Bolshaya streets to the St. Nicholas Church, where the carriage stopped for a few minutes. Meanwhile, as it turned out later, Father John was expected on Blagoveshchenskaya Street, unfortunately, in vain, by students of the Higher Women's Mariinsky School with the commanders and employees of this institution. During the 3-5 minute stop at the St. Nicholas Church, a significant group of people had already formed near Father John’s carriage, including, by the way, high school students who were returning around that time from classes, whom Father John affectionately blessed. In general, it should be noted that wherever the carriage in which Father John was traveling was shown around the city, everywhere and everyone without exception who met on the streets of the city with some special joy and reverence paid respect to what was known, obviously, to everyone, young and old, from Jew to Greek and from slave to master, to the shepherd of Christ (Acts 19:10; 20:21). At least during the entire extensive trip around the city, there was literally not a single instance where anyone encountered on the road did not notice Father John and show him respect, even among children. And where the carriage stopped, there instantly, as if from the ground, a crowd of people grew. In all such cases, Father John modestly remarked: “You see how faith brings people together and unites, but unbelief divides. They are attracted not by me, but by Christ living in me...” During the journey, Father John was keenly interested in everything in the unfamiliar city that caught his eye along the way. Following Georgievsky Prospekt and part of Vilenskaya Street leading to Snipishki, Father John drew attention to the Alexander Nevsky Chapel and asked Father Mitrofan about this monument. At the Chudovskaya Church on Snipishki, Father John was met by local police authorities and entered the church-school building, examined it, got acquainted with its plan and, having learned the patronage of which saint this building was entrusted to, standing almost on the threshold of the door leading from the classroom to the church, devoutly crossed himself and quietly prayed for several minutes and blessed the building, uttering to himself the words of blessing known to him alone. The entire building of the church-school made a very good impression on Father John, even unexpected for his companion, not to mention his idea. The straightforward and kind shepherd several times admired the majestic appearance of the church and said with true pleasure that with the name of our church-school he combined the idea of a more modest building and that he did not expect to find anywhere, much less in a provincial town and even on the outskirts of Russia, such a majestic capital building of a church-school, where both a relatively large stone church and stone school buildings could, each in itself, so widely serve the purposes of worship and education and in its own way. majesty and beauty to be an adornment of the provincial city. At the same time, the sincere shepherd added that he himself built a church and school in his homeland, in the Arkhangelsk province, but that building was wooden and, moreover, arranged like a house of prayer. Leaving the construction site, Father John asked about the circumstances of the origin of the building under construction, the sources of material resources for the construction of this, in his words, the most beautiful and useful institution, as well as what assumptions the diocesan authorities had regarding the parish position of the church under construction and the clergy attached to it and the composition of teachers. On the way further to “Trinopolis”, Father John admired the picturesque surroundings of Vilna and the rare beauty of the location of the bishop’s estates. At the gates of the bishop's garden, where he had to stop to walk through the garden (the road to the courtyard of the bishop's house is washed out), Father John was met by the hieromonk of the cross, His Eminence, father keymaster of the cathedral, priest M.S. Golenkevich, who came here in numerous carriages on purpose to receive the blessing of Father John, the city residents and all those living in “Trinopol” and its environs, who just managed to learn about the intention of the venerable shepherd to come to “Trinopol”. Accompanied by these persons, Father John quickly proceeded through the garden to the bishop's chambers, where he was kindly received by His Eminence, ate tea and spent some time in a lively conversation with the Bishop and in common dear memories of both the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, in which Bishop and Father John studied at the same time (but not in the same course), and about the city of Arkhangelsk, the hometown of Father John and closely familiar to His Eminence from his place of service there as rector of the Arkhangelsk Seminary. At the same time, Father John presented his Eminence with many books of his own composition, and since the time was already late, Father John hastened to thank the Bishop for his merciful and affectionate welcome and to take his blessing for further travel. At farewell, His Eminence asked the prayer book of Christ to stop by the Brotherhood in Zarechye to pray with the sick missionary Pavel Ioannikievich Dreizin (one of the baptized Jewish rabbis), to which Father John humbly agreed and, accompanied by all those gathered, departed at 5 o’clock in the afternoon back to the city. At about 5 o'clock in the evening, Father John arrived at the Brotherhood House, located in Zarechye, behind the Prechistensky Cathedral. As soon as the governor-general's carriage, in which Father John was traveling, appeared in the courtyard of the Brotherhood House, all the residents of this house, consisting of 46 cheap apartments for the poor, led by the caretaker of the house G.Ya. Sandrigailo, went out to meet the venerable shepherd and with him came to a special outbuilding where the missionary for those converting from Judaism P.I. Dreizin, who was lying on his sick bed at that time and was looking forward to the happiness of seeing Father John, was located. Entering the sick man, the merciful shepherd sat down on his bed, blessed him and talked for a long time with special interest, warmth and sincerity with the sick missionary, after which he began to pray for the success of the sick missionary’s Christian activities and for the health of the missionary himself, having first spoken affectionately with Mr. Dreizin’s wife (of the Jewish faith), whom the good shepherd also remembered loudly in the prayers he read. In general, it is necessary to note that the whole essence of the effective prayer of Father John and the high power of its spirit lies in the fact that this prayer book of the Church of Christ, in his prayerful appeals to God, embraces with his sincerely believing and loving heart and his spiritual gaze at the same time not only those who ask him at the moment for prayer and not only all those who are coming with him in prayer, but also the entire sinful world redeemed by God, perishing in sorrows; it is as if he hears the groans of all people suffering on earth at a distance from God, and he tenderly lifts up these cries of the sinful earth to the Savior of the world, who redeemed this earth with His ineffable mercy, crucified by the world for His mercy, but still continuing to love people and endlessly show mercy to them. When the grace-filled prayer book of Christ burns with fiery prayer to God, one can involuntarily feel and directly hear in his very words that he seems to be bowing heaven to earth for mercy and begging God to unite them in His mercy, so that the currents of God’s mercy flow into the hearts of people, wide open by faith, and fill them with the cheerful Father’s blessings of soul and body... Having finished the prayer and blessed missionary Dreizin and all those present, Father John drove to the Prechistensky Cathedral, at the entrance to which he was met by the rector of the cathedral, Archpriest I. A. Kotovich, other members of the clergy, the family of the archpriest’s father and the people who had managed to gather here. The distinguished visitor examined with interest the ancient and once most important church, and Archpriest I.A. Kotovich provided brief historical information about the cathedral. Entering further into the altar, Father John kneeled and prayed deeply in front of the holy throne for several minutes. After the prayer, Father John asked the members of the clergy who were there about the time of their service and years and went out to the people. Having blessed everyone again, he headed to the Mariinsky Convent. The moments of religious excitement that one had to experience when Father John, the chosen one of Christ, was in the Mariinsky Monastery are rare moments: they are quite worthy, on the one hand, of that cheerful evangelical spirit that a true servant of Christ brings with him everywhere, and on the other hand, of that selfless devotion to faith and fervent religious feeling of which only a female Christian heart is capable. Already at the monastery gates one could see almost everyone living there, led by the venerable mother abbess Antonia, greeting the shepherd of Christ with reverence and tears of joy in their eyes. At the entrance doors to the large monastery church, to which, at the direction of the mother abbess, Father John proceeded directly, the distinguished guest was met by monastics, pupils of the orphanage, and arriving city residents, who represented, as it were, one common family of children, overwhelmed with ecstasy of joy, who were meeting their beloved and common father. It was impossible to enter the church for some time, until the first minutes of religious enthusiasm subsided. Upon entering the church, the highly respected pastor greeted those who met him with the words: “Hello, mothers, sisters, and children!” - and, guarded by the monastery clergy, he began to bless everyone who managed to approach him in the crowd. The young pupils of the monastery orphanage, deeply touched by the happiness of seeing with their own eyes the lamp of the Church of Christ, long known to them by hearing and deeds, succumbed so much to the joy that gripped them that they could not express their innocent childhood feelings otherwise than with silent tears and, covering their faces with their hands, quietly, sobbed profusely... Accompanied by the clergy of the monastery and the mother abbess, Father John walked through the altar of the main church into the chapel and, pressed by the people, he entered the chambers of the abbess of the monastery, Abbess Antonia. Here Father John was offered tea by the venerable hostess, over which the highly respected shepherd spent some time in a fatherly conversation with Mother Abbess in the presence of all the sisters and a mass of outsiders filling the chambers. After resting for a while and having some tea, the tireless shepherd, due to the lateness of the hour, had to say goodbye to the mother abbess and the sisters of the monastery and at 5:45 in the evening leave the Mariinsky Monastery to go to the male Monastery of the Holy Spirit. Along Beer Lane, Father John proceeded through the Sharp Gate, passing which the shepherd reverently prayed, to the Holy Spiritual Monastery, literally filled with numerous people who had been waiting for him for a long time. At the entrance to the monastery courtyard, students of the women's religious school were lined up in trellises, whom the spiritual shepherd heartily blessed from the carriage, and the entire courtyard of the monastery and the church were filled with people. To what extent it was difficult for the well-respected shepherd to pass through the people into the cave to venerate the holy martyrs can be judged by the fact that this procession, delayed at every step, lasted at least 15 minutes. The church shone with Easter lighting, and the cave where the incorruptible relics of the holy Vilna martyrs Anthony, John and Eustathius rested was flooded with the lights of numerous lamps. With great efforts, the lamp of Christ's faith made its way to the shrine of the holy martyrs, reverently kissed their sacred feet and, moving to the southern edge of the shrine, laid his hands on it and, lowering his head on them, surrendered to a deep, concentrated and quiet - tearful prayer!.. From the cave, Father John was, as usual, carried through the crowd of people to the altar of the upper church, where he kissed the holy altar and, avoiding the insurmountable crush of people, he went out through the side altar doors to the carriage waiting for him. Upon leaving the church, the venerable shepherd was met by His Eminence Christopher, Bishop of Kovno, and the Father Superior of the Holy Spiritual Monastery, Archimandrite Nestor. The humble shepherd, having respectfully asked for the archpastoral blessing from His Eminence and fraternally greeted the father governor, was honored by His Eminence with a brief affectionate conversation and, having once again asked for the blessing of His Eminence on the road, he departed, accompanied by Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, through a dense crowd of people again to the St. Nicholas Church. It was already 7 o'clock in the evening when Father John returned again to the starting point of his pastoral visit to the city of Vilna - to the apartment of the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev. By that time, the news of the departure of the highly respected shepherd from Vilna on the evening train at 7:15 a.m. had spread throughout the city and attracted many people to Father John’s city stop. Upon arrival at the apartment of the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, full this time of people, Father John, although he seemed somewhat tired, did not leave anyone with his blessing, or his kind word, or his fatherly participation in needs. Knowing that the tireless Father John had not taken proper food anywhere throughout the whole day, the happy hosts offered him a modest meal, to which the good Father John readily agreed and shared the farewell meal in a modest setting, in the family half of Father Mitrofan’s apartment and in the close circle of his entire family and the teacher of the teacher’s institute and the 2nd gymnasium, Father Nikolai Pashkevich. This meal was short in time and modest in atmosphere, but it will remain indelible forever in the hearts of the distinguished guest’s companions for those moments of spiritual consolation and goodness that they had to experience. Affectionately thanking for the reception and expressing his warm fatherly wishes to the comrades, Father John hurried to the people, with whom he spent a few more last minutes, and then there was a highly touching farewell of the highly respected shepherd to all those who were in Father Mitrofan’s apartment. Having boarded the Governor General's carriage with the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, and his wife, the tall, God-sent guest peacefully set off on his way to the station. As soon as the bell ringing at the St. Nicholas Church announced to the residents of the city the minute of departure of the highly respected shepherd, all the people bared their heads, crossed themselves, moved and began to cry after the departing servant of God: “Dear Father, forgive me! Father, bless us!.. pray for us!.. don’t forget us!..” The touched shepherd bowed warmly to the people and wholeheartedly blessed the crowd of thousands of people. Met at the city station by the Vilna police chief, Father John proceeded to the director’s chambers assigned to him by the railway authorities, where persons from the city clergy, outside admirers, as well as the city manager of the Vilna educational district, assistant trustee and actual state councilor A.B., gathered for farewell. Beletsky, who had a long conversation with the venerable shepherd. Throughout Father John's stay at the station, a long line of different people came up for blessing, but in an orderly and exemplary order, thanks to the police chief. Since those who wanted to see off the rare and venerable guest comprised, one might say, the entire city, the station authorities prudently fenced off the entrance to the director’s quarters from the station’s landing stage with a special barrier that held back the pressure of the public. But this measure, in view of the crowd of thousands of people filling all the free space along the station right up to the train, did not seem reliable, and therefore a special carriage reserved exclusively for Father John was moved to a special side exit (leading through the garden). Accompanied by Assistant Trustee A.B. Beletsky, the railway authorities and all the people who were here, Father John occupied the allocated carriage for him, which instantly filled with people. By this time, His Excellency the Vilna, Kovno and Grodno Governor-General, Senator, Lieutenant General P.V. deigned to arrive to receive the farewell blessing of the highly respected pastor and a personal conversation with him. Orzhevsky and his wife spent some time before the train departed in a cordial conversation with the departing shepherd. On the landing stage there were representatives of all departments and departments and almost the entire intelligentsia of Vilna and people of all religions and backgrounds. What happened here all this time before the train left is difficult to convey; the train stood literally submerged in a sea of ​​people; those who did not have a place on the platform, they humiliated the train cars, filling the platforms and their steps. It turned out that Father John’s carriage had to be locked. At the request of the people, the tired, but selfless and humble shepherd appeared many times through the carriage window, blessed the people, consoled and thanked everyone. Touched by the strong faith of the people and their deep commitment to God, the high servant of God closed the window several times and, folding his hands in a cross shape, bowing his head, indulged in deep tearful prayer for these thousands of people, for their trust in the humble servant of God and for their brotherly Christian love... Then he blessed and thanked everyone again. When the train started, thousands of admirers of Father John bared their heads, said tearful farewells and sent their irresistible warm wishes, requests and gratitude after the retreating shepherd of Christ. Many ran after the train until the opportunity presented itself. Having blessed the city he was leaving for the last time, Father John said: “I will never forget the meeting in Vilna.” To the Landvorovo station, the distinguished rare Vilna guest was honored to be accompanied by: the rector of the St. Nicholas Church, Father Mitrofan Pomerantsev, and his wife, the director of the railway department, a fellow prosecutor of the Vilna district court, N.V. Garin, military personnel and other persons who had a spiritual need. Having said goodbye to the lamp of the modern Church of Christ, Father John, everyone returned home, as if from a holiday, contented and happy, experiencing the highest moments of moral refreshment, consolation and consolation brought into the personal, family and social life of the Vilna residents by the great moral power of Christ's servant... Thus, like a dream, the unforgettable day for Vilna, October 4, 1893, flew by. Yes, and Vilna, for its part, will never forget its distinguished and rare visitor. From now on, for many, many in our corner of God’s world, it will become a stronghold of faith and love. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith (1 John 5:4). “You are the winner, Galilean,” repeated the emperor Julian the Apostate 5, dying in a bloody battle against Christians, several centuries later. Professor I.A. Sikorsky. Father John Ilyich Sergiev (Kronstadt) and his stay in Kiev The arrival of Father John in Kiev and his stay in it represent an outstanding event in local life, which should be recorded in the chronicles. For about two months in a row, without stopping, there were rumors about the arrival of Father John in Kyiv, and people of all ages, classes and conditions eagerly listened to the news of the arrival of a man whom Kyiv had never seen, but whom he already knew well, like all of Russia. From the beginning of Fomina's week, large audiences gathered at every train on the Kursk-Kyiv road to meet Father John. Despite the preservation of all kinds of secrecy that surrounded Father John’s arrival in Kyiv, despite the fact that he chose the route not to Moscow and Kursk, but to Bialystok, a large public was waiting for the arrival of the train on April 16. Kiev met Father John and greeted him the way he is met and greeted everywhere in Russia. Already on the day of arrival, a large audience filled the street where Father John stayed. Many spent the night on the street in reverent anticipation of seeing Father. Father John arrived in Kyiv at 8 o'clock in the evening on April 16, and already from three o'clock in the morning masses of people gathered from all over Kyiv: all of Kyiv learned about the arrival of Father John. From 4 o'clock in the morning, Father John began receiving those who were toiling and burdened (Matthew 11:28) seeking consolation. At 8 o'clock in the morning on April 17, Father John, with great difficulty, reached the governor-general's house through the dense masses of people, where he celebrated mass in the house church. Already from 10 o'clock in the morning the population of Kyiv was on its feet; the animation with which everyone was imbued can be called unparalleled. The public gathered in all parts of the city and awaited his arrival in reverent silence. Nobody knew where he would be; people were waiting for him everywhere. Everywhere where Father John appeared, the animation was unusual and great, and it cannot be described in other words as supplication, prayer, reverence, a thirst to see him. This was the general mood. Following the end of the mass in the house of the Governor General, Father John visited His Eminence Metropolitan Ioannikios in the Lavra. The enthusiasm of the thousands of pilgrims who filled the vast churchyard around the Great Lavra Church cannot be expressed in words. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Father John visited Her Imperial Highness the Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna. Everywhere along the route of Father John, he was met, accompanied and followed by masses of people, seeking his blessing. From the Intercession Monastery, Father John proceeded to St. Andrew's Church, apparently eager to visit and see with his own eyes the sacred and historical areas of Kyiv. Father John quickly got up and almost ran up the cast-iron stairs to the platform of St. Andrew's Church, from where a vast and especially striking view of Podol, the Dnieper, the Trans-Dnieper region and the surrounding mountains opens up. Reverently, in silence, Father John looked at the immediate and distant surroundings, and in a prayerful mood, his all-penetrating thought was transported to that distant time when the Apostle Andrew the First-Called stood in this very place, predicting the great historical destiny of Kyiv. With all the strength of his ardent feeling, Father John experienced in his soul the historical fate of the fatherland and Christianity. Within a few minutes, the site of St. Andrew's Church was filled with a mass of visitors who rushed to St. Andrew's Church from all sides as soon as it became known that Father John was here. On the site and in the church itself, Father John was seen by numerous newcomers from Kyiv. From this moment a series of endless touching ovations began, the subject of which was Father John. The unanimity with which people of all ranks and conditions greeted him and strove for him is beyond description. Father John prayed many times and prayerfully rejoiced, responding to greetings. His joy flowed from the consciousness that people were united and that religion was a powerful unifying force for humanity. Having visited the St. Michael's Monastery and the Right Reverend Jacob, Father John went to the monument to St. Vladimir. He was accompanied by masses of people; there were pilgrims, the public, and students - everyone was looking to see Father John, to receive a blessing from him. Father John's responses to the greetings of those around him constantly reflected that boundless love for people and that insight that is so characteristic of Father John and which distinguishes him from thousands and millions of people. Having given his blessing to two adult high school students who approached him, he wished them to pass the exams well and enroll as students. He wished the university student who came up to work and not stop working. Approaching the monument to St. Vladimir, Father John indulged in memories of the past historical destinies of Russia, and with fiery feeling and reverence he either raised his gaze to the monument to the Enlightener of Russia, or lowered it to the valley where the site of the Baptism of Rus' is located. From the monument to St. Vladimir, Father John walked down to Alexander's Descent and from here proceeded to the St. Nicholas Monastery to see His Eminence Ioannikios, Bishop of Uman. From here Father John wished to go to Askold’s Tomb. A visit to this first cemetery of Christian martyrs made a special impression on Father John. Here, for the first time, those deep character traits that are characteristic of Father John and which constitute the source of his unparalleled influence on people became visible to those around him. We can say that for almost the whole day Father John is in a state of greatest mental excitement, which appears either in the form of prayer without words, then in the form of a sublime mood bordering on prayer, then, finally, in the form of a mental experience of the highest ideals. We can say that the elevated mood that occurs in an ordinary person occasionally, in exceptional moments, is common in Father John and does not leave him almost throughout the whole day. Father John appears to be an ordinary person only in moments of extreme fatigue or while eating; at all other times of the day, he is in a state of sublime animation and lives the fullest, broadest ideal life that is possible for a person. External impressions find him always ready for that amazing, high spiritual reaction that so amazes the observer and has such a deep and beneficial effect on everyone. The main, visible character traits of Father John are sincerity, meekness and the greatest love for people: with these qualities are inseparably linked affection in relationships with people and charm that surpasses all expectations. All this is written on the face of Father John, and everyone who even sees this man for the first time believes and trusts. This is the impression made by Father John on all people... Approaching Askold's Tomb, Father John fell silent, which marks his transition to his usual reverent mood. As soon as the carriage stopped, Father John quickly headed through the gates of the cemetery. After two or three minutes he was already surrounded by a large crowd of people: they recognized him everywhere and ran after him. Entering the church, accompanied by the cemetery hieromonk, Father John fervently prayed silently for several minutes. His mood affected those around him. In the midst of the general silence that reigned, an old peasant woman turned to Father John and said firmly in a loud voice: “Father, Father John! Bless me, sinner, harlot, thief; bless me on my long journey to the next world.” Father John blessed the old woman. The whole scene made a great impression on those around him. Accompanied by the cemetery hieromonk, Father John went down to the basement floor of the church, and when he saw Askold’s Tomb, his reverent mood intensified even more, he began to pray loudly, improvising, as was his custom, prayers with his characteristic simplicity and strength. The first day of Father John’s stay in Kyiv ended with a visit to Askold’s Tomb. Father John began his second day in Kyiv on Sunday, April 18, with a Divine service at the Intercession Convent, where Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna is staying. Father John arrived at the Intercession Monastery at 8 o'clock in the morning, but already at dawn masses of people began to gather in and around the monastery, looking to see Father John. By the time of his arrival, the number of waiting audiences reached ten to fifteen thousand. Dense masses of people literally blocked the entire courtyard of the monastery and adjacent streets. At the end of the mass, Father John visited Her Highness in Her own chambers and then visited the monastery hospital. Only with difficulty did Father John reach the hospital building through the dense masses of people. The amazing cleanliness and cozy appearance of the hospital made a favorable impression on Father John. With his usual kindness, he walked around all the sick, blessing them, comforting them and praying. Having bowed to Her Highness, Father John from the Intercession Monastery proceeded through Glubochitsa and then along the Ascension Descent to the Old Town. The sight of the mountains made an impression on Father John, as did the whole nature and terrain of Kyiv in general. In this impression, everything merged: the reverent feeling of a religious person, and the observation of a thinker who delved into the history of geological upheavals in our area, and, finally, a fascination with the beauty of nature, which in Kyiv represents so many aesthetic aspects. These feelings overwhelmed him whenever he saw one or another outstanding view of Kyiv, for example, the view from St. Andrew's Church to Podol, from the Lavra Mountains and Askold's Tomb to the Dnieper and Trans-Dnieper, and from Podol to St. Andrew's Church. Contemplating the views of nature, Father John prays and admires as a lover, and indulges in deep philosophical reflections about the distant past, about the universe. Despite the short duration of his stay in Kyiv and the lack of time, Father John was eager to visit the Vladimir Cathedral under construction. The interior view of the church, its paintings and ornaments made an unusually vivid and strong impression on the responsive, highly gifted nature of Father John. The faces of saints and wall depictions of events from biblical and Christian history brought Father John into a state of spiritual admiration. He was transported in his mind's eye to distant times, to the moments of the events themselves, and his whole figure, his face and body movements were illuminated by that wonderful fire of an ideal life, which is hardly accessible to image and analysis and which involuntarily makes you feel that you are close to a great man. Always living with the thought of people, of their moral improvement, Father John indulged in reflection on the beneficial influence that the Vladimir Cathedral, this monument to the Christian and cultural life of Russia, would have for Kyiv and Russia. The opportunity to see the Vladimir Cathedral in its finished form and pray in it seemed to Father John a special happiness that he would like to achieve. Having examined the Vladimir Cathedral, Father John traveled to Podol to the Bratsky Monastery to see His Eminence Sylvester, Bishop of Kanevsky. Masses of people were already filling the monastery churchyard, and Father John, with the greatest difficulty, entered the apartment of the Right Reverend. A conversation began between Father John and the Right Reverend, the reason for which was the enthusiasm of the masses who wanted to see Father John. The interlocutors started talking about the possibility of uniting people. At this time, students of the Theological Academy were invited to the Right Reverend’s apartment. Father John, who always knows how to give a warm character to his address, quickly rose from his seat and, in a tone of love, clothed in the form of fellowship, spoke with liveliness: “Students of the Academy! Christ is Risen! Hello, my friends, hello, dear classmates, children of all of us in a common theological school...” Father John’s speech was followed by the most ardent, most spontaneous manifestations of joy, gratitude, surprise and filial feelings from the Academy students towards Father John. Father John's exit from the chambers of the Right Reverend was fraught with barely surmountable difficulties due to the general desire of the large public to get closer to Father John, see him, and receive a blessing. Among the public, especially the simple ones, there was a desire to send a request by telegraph to the Highest Name, so that Father John would be ordered to stay in Kyiv for a whole week. From Podol, Father John went to the Institute of Noble Maidens, from there to the Levashovsky boarding school, where he had been expected for a long time. The pupils and authorities were gathered in the large hall on the top floor of the building, and Father John, having served a prayer service, sprinkled everyone with holy water. Then, at the suggestion of the head of the boarding house, Countess Apraksina, Father John visited the hospital, where, with his usual love and affection, he consoled and encouraged the sick. Among the patients, they pointed out to him a girl who suffered from severe typhus and who had recently had a large abscess opened near her ear. The girl lay motionless, covered in bandages. As soon as Father John looked at the sick woman, his whole figure suddenly lit up with the fire of feeling. He quickly approached the patient, fell down on the bed and, on his knees, pressed his face to the sufferer’s face, showering her with the most tender caresses and kisses. Here the entire richly gifted soul of Father John came into play. For a minute he forgot everything: both the surrounding environment and his 63 years - and how the most loving mother caressed and consoled the sick woman. “Dear child, it doesn’t hurt you, oh you, my sufferer,” he said... There was complete silence, and the whole scene made the deepest impression on those around. This impression cannot be conveyed or described! It would still be possible to remember the words spoken, it would be possible to describe individual details, but there is no means to convey the tone, shades of voice and all the modulations of the incomparable melody of feeling that poured out from the soul of the loving Father John... It was enough to see the described scene so that you would have no doubt that you were present at the deepest manifestations of which the human soul is capable. Everything was felt here: the fervor of selfless feeling, and boundless love, and soul-grabbing pity and sorrow at the bedside of a sick person, and, finally, incomparable sympathy, with all the shades and modulations of a powerful feeling. Another event happened at the Levashovsky boarding school, which had a special impact on those around him. Among the people present at the prayer service, among many was a lady who had come on purpose from Kharkov with the goal of seeing Father John and receiving a blessing from him. The circumstances of her life made it especially necessary for her to receive the moral consolation that Father John so knows how to give. The lady accidentally ended up in the Levashovsky boarding house and was among a dense crowd. Blessing everyone, Father John treated her with special sympathy, caressed her, hugged her and distinguished her with special attention. This lady, full of joy and happiness, told everyone about what had happened, amazed at the insight of Father John, since she had not yet had the opportunity to exchange at least one word with him. And in fact, Father John’s insight is amazing, and we have had occasion to see more than once that Father John has the ability to quickly, from the first time, sometimes with just one careful look at a person, accurately determine his state of mind, especially his mood. In this regard, his diagnostic abilities are extraordinary. Seeing a mass of people in front of him, he, as if with a genius instinct, guesses those toiling and burdened people who most need his help, and provides them with this help preferably before others present. With almost the same accuracy, he reads in the hearts of people who are devoid of sincerity and alien to those high qualities with which he himself is rich and which he strives to develop in others. From the Levashov Institute, Father John went to the School for the Blind. Here he blessed the children, caressed them, asked each of them who, when they lost their sight and whether they remembered the sunlight. He treated with special concern those who became blind in early childhood and who answered negatively when asked whether they remembered the light. Father John consoled the blind by telling them that, in addition to physical vision, there is mental vision, and even if they are deprived of the first, they still have the second. Of course, it is a great misfortune, Father John taught, not to see the light of the sun, but much more unfortunate are those who are deprived of the never-fading light of the Divine. The next (third) day of Father John’s stay in Kyiv began with a Divine service in the house of the Governor General. At the end of the mass, Father John visited the Cadet Corps. At about three o'clock in the afternoon, Father John went to the Lavra to venerate the holy saints of Pechersk. Despite the fatigue caused by previous visits, Father John was in particular moral excitement; Almost the entire way to the Lavra he mentally prayed. Father John's crew proceeded past the Lavra hotel and stopped at the entrance to the gallery leading to the Near Caves. Here Father John was met by the governor of the Lavra. Father John was silent and in a deep prayerful mood. The father governor suggested going to the Near Caves not through the gallery, but through the garden. From the garden there was a delightful view of the mountains, the Lavra churches and caves, the Dnieper and the Trans-Dnieper region. Father John, in the greatest nervous tension, asked: “Where, where are the caves?” They pointed it out to him. Instantly his entire being was illuminated with the fire of awe. He stopped and, turning towards the caves, loudly exclaimed: “Holy fathers, who rejected the world and loved Christ! Christ is Risen! He addressed the saints of Pechersk as living people, and this feeling of closeness and unity with them did not leave Father John the entire time he was within the walls of the Lavra. Having descended into the Caves, Father John prayed loudly all the time. His prayer had the character of fiery improvisations, which expressed surprise, reverence and supplication to the celestials. These celestials were once ordinary people and labored here; they dug these caves with their own hands and left in them traces of their lives, their works, their piety. They - saints of God - are examples of those virtues, that moral self-improvement that was and is the goal and task of his own life. Now, in the 63rd year of his life, for the first time he is present at the site of their exploits, where traces of their life and activities are everywhere. These words can convey the mood of Father John. He prayed fervently. “Oh, friends of God, friends of God,” he often repeated. “Saint Paul, child of obedience, teach us obedience,” he prayed at the relics of Paul the Obedient. “Saint John, who burned passions, teach us to burn with the flame of love,” he prayed at the relics of John the Long-Suffering. Everywhere his prayer was of extraordinary simplicity and strength. At times he fell silent, and only fleeting quiet sighs escaped from his chest, so characteristic of Father John and testifying to deep spiritual tenderness that does not require words. Having visited the cell and church of Anthony and Theodosius, he was especially moved. At the exit from the Near Caves, Father John turned around and said: “Oh, sages, oh, philosophers! Oh, philosophers, oh, theologians, who surprised the world!” In the Great Church, having venerated the relics of Michael, the first Metropolitan of Kyiv, Father John stepped back and loudly exclaimed, addressing the relics as if he were a living person: “O Primate of the Faith, Holy Hierarch of God, look how many of your children are all Orthodox Rus'!” The elevated mood did not leave Father John even during the transition from the Near Caves to the Far Caves. They walked along the gallery, Father John walked with such speed that his companions could barely keep up with him. He was silent and burned with the fire of inner animation... They descended steeply along the long staircase adjacent to the Church of the Far Caves. The pleading cries of a thousand voices were heard: “Father John, bless.” For a minute, Father John looked for the people... Through the iron bars of the window, located at a height from which a weak light was breaking through, dozens of hands stuck out and a mass of people could be seen. Like birds of heaven, people flocked to the window, seeking to see Father John and receive his blessing. Monks came out of the Church of the Far Caves with lit candles. Father John exclaimed: “The Light of Christ enlightens everyone! Christ is risen, brothers!” From the Far Caves, Father John went to the Great Lavra Church. Here he venerated the relics of the saints, descended and also venerated the incorruptible body of Paul, Bishop of Tobolsk. Then he visited the governor of the Lavra in his chambers. Here Father John listened to the singing of the Lavra choir. Having listened to the sung excerpt of a church song, Father John was delighted. Bowing low to the choir, he said: “Brothers! I'm completely captivated by your singing! This is heavenly thunder, this is divine music!” Then Father John listened to many more church songs: all the time while the singing continued, he mentally prayed. Returning from the Lavra, Father John visited the women's diocesan theological school. He came here, illuminated by everything that had been experienced in the Lavra. The students of the school gathered in the church were especially serious, judging by the fact that, despite the general excitement, they maintained order almost as complete as that which was noticed in the Lavra, where, with just a reminder from the governor about obedience, as the first duty of a monk, the brethren maintained order. The children, despite apparent restraint, felt with all their hearts the presence of an extraordinary person in their midst. Having prayed at the local icons of the church, Father John turned to the children and, looking at them with a searching gaze, said in a solemn voice: “Dear children, blooming with health and beauty! Christ is Risen!..” Father John said several instructive words to the pupils; The expression of joy and delight of the pupils, despite their restraint, was deep and touching. With those pupils whom Father John personally blessed, he was extremely tender, asking them to convey his love to everyone else. On this evening, Father John left Kyiv for Kursk. The day of departure was not known to the public, and despite this, a mass of people gathered at the station to see off Father John. The public observed exemplary order. When Father John appeared at the exit, everyone uncovered their heads, asking for a blessing. The mood of the audience as they saw off Father John can be described in one word: reverence. On both sides of the train stood dense masses of the public, a third of which were pupils of educational institutions and mainly students of the Academy and University. Father John, at the request of the public, moved first to one window and then to another, blessing those mourning. There was nothing noisy about the farewell, everything was quiet, but there was so much heart, so much sincerity, so much simplicity and grandeur in everything that undoubtedly Kyiv experienced deep emotional moments. But what kind of person is this who is capable of causing such extraordinary and unanimous manifestations in so many people? What are people looking for, what are they yearning for when, gathering in masses, they stand reverently, as in church, for whole hours, often for whole nights, waiting to see him, to hear his voice, to receive his blessing? It is not the crowd that is looking for Father John, but people of every rank, every education and all ages. You will see here both an educated person and a laborer, a student and a student; you will see adults and children, gentlemen and their servants; you will see humble workers and fallen women; you will see sick, hysterical, spoiled and criminal people. You will meet here different religions, different nationalities. Everyone is brought to Father John by the same feeling, and undoubtedly a good feeling. It forces people who arrived in carriages to get out of the carriage and stand next to an ordinary gray man; it unites masters and their servants; it encourages hysterical and capricious women to abandon their whims and pretense; it lifts the fallen woman out of the mud and makes her human. This is God's spark, this striving for the ideal! This is what attracts people to Father John. In his presence, the conscience of the worst, most savage person awakens, and all unspoiled people are refreshed and revived in the best, ideal sides of their character. Father John, so sensitive and responsive to all the best manifestations of human nature, is moved by the sight of piety and sympathy revealed in his presence. “Oh, dear Kyivians and Kievites,” he used to say at the sight of the reverent masses. “And here it is the same as throughout Russia, the same spirit, the same piety,” he said. He was often deeply moved by manifestations of warmth and reverence. “The good Russian people, their love just splashes... Are there people in the world more sincere and kinder than the Russian people?” - he said. The above reviews, expressed by such a subtle diagnostician of mental movements as Father John, are of particular importance. However, even for an ordinary person it is quite clear that the masses grouping around Father John are animated by the best, loftiest aspirations. We have happened to hear the opinion expressed by people, even those who are not devoid of education, that the fascination with Father John is a psychopathic phenomenon, or a special kind of fashionable movement. Such an opinion is completely unfounded, even frivolous. The observations that we were able to make regarding the mood of the masses showed exactly the opposite. We saw almost no manifestations of hysteria anywhere, did not observe any immoderate tears, and there was no noise, inevitable with a large crowd of people; on the contrary, there was an almost unusual self-control. This shows that the people gathered were not only animated by the best feelings, but their very will was strengthened. Consequently, this passion of the masses has the properties of a vigorous, healthy mental manifestation and in no case painful. The majority of people who turn to Father John are looking for consolation or healing from moral evils. These are people who are either shocked by their own mistakes, or beset by some misfortune, or, finally, who have fallen into despondency and lost their will. In such cases, a person, for the purpose of moral self-preservation, turns to good advice and support from friends and relatives. Father John, by his character and his properties, is the most sincere, most faithful friend of humanity, and all those in need of support and support naturally strive to him, especially those who seek, in addition to friendly support, religious consolation. For many years, Father John was an intermediary in the provision of this and that kind of help. But in recent years its importance has increased, expanded and gone far beyond its original limit. Now he is no longer just a shepherd of the Kronstadt church, but a common prayer book, a healer, a folk hero, a common patron and adviser, a common father-father. He is perhaps the most famous and popular person in Russia. Only an outstanding, talented person could acquire such significance. Such, undoubtedly, should be recognized as Father John. All the qualities with which he is endowed are such that at first you are involuntarily surprised by them and only then analyze them. All manifestations of feeling in Father John are distinguished by extraordinary depth and completeness, exceeding ordinary limits. His insight and subtlety with which he recognizes the mental state of a person is absolutely exceptional. If we add to this a colossal will, then we will form some idea of ​​​​the extent of his talents. His very health is in complete harmony with his spiritual abilities: despite his 63 years, he looks like a man who is no more than 45 years old; he is constantly cheerful, fresh, tireless. Insufficient sleep and the extreme exertion of strength required by his difficult mission not only do not have a harmful effect on his health, but, apparently, only strengthen and temper him for new exploits. Father John's face and his entire appearance are imprinted with extraordinary kindness, meekness and friendliness, and we completely understand the desire of the masses to see Father John, to look at him. This desire undoubtedly reflects the need to see this exceptional, true person - to see and learn. When we talk about the outstanding talents of a person, we look for evidence and traces of his activity - in science, poetry, arts and practical life; we ask ourselves the question about the specialty of such a person, about his works, his activities. Father John's specialty is the moral improvement of himself and others. His works are recorded not in books, not on canvas, but in millions of hearts; written down and imprinted so firmly in a way that what we see, hear, and read is not always imprinted in our minds. This living bearer and preacher of ideals, who spends 15–20 hours every day, either in church, or in the open air, or in crowded meetings, does not publish his works. He educates society in word, deed, example, and most of all with his personality. He teaches life science. Apparently, such science does not exist. Of course not! Knowing how to live is not a science, but a philosophy. The Greek thinkers were right when they argued that living life is a great art and that only a wise man can correctly carry out this task. Nowadays, such a sage, such a moral philosopher is Father John of Kronstadt. The unanimous desire for it is a sign of the times. It shows what value morality has for people and how precious any success in it is! S.D. Father John among the people On December 28, 1894, I happened to see Father John (Kronstadtsky) in Klin, where he was invited by the local landowner D.A. Ch-in. I accompanied Father that day and rode with him in the same carriage to Moscow. I am providing some details and conveying my impressions. It was assumed that Father John would serve mass in a rural church (8 versts from Klin), visit Ch-va and take a 5-hour passenger train to Moscow, where he was urgently invited. At 8:50 a.m. the train arrived, a mass of waiting audience rushed to the last carriage, from which Father John quickly emerged, cheerful and cheerful as always. His first words were that he would not serve mass, because he was in a hurry to Moscow. This saddened everyone very much, but I, by some kind of premonition, expected that the service would certainly take place. My assumptions were justified. Father John, having arrived at Ch-va’s house, was surrounded by such convincing requests that he immediately said loudly: “We’re going to church!” You need to know that for Father not to serve mass is the greatest deprivation: the reception of the Holy Mysteries is truly his spiritual food, after the service he always feels amazing energy in himself, which gives his prayers a well-known power! The Church of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, where the service was supposed to be held, was 150 fathoms from the house, so in just two or three minutes we were already there. A mass of people stood near the church and behind the fence. Everyone had been waiting since the morning for the arrival of Father John, but the rumor that there would be no service had already become known, so many left. You should have seen the joyful and amazed faces when they saw the carriage with Father John approaching. Everyone, as one person, took off their hats and greeted dear Father with a loud voice. “Hello, Orthodox, fathers, brothers, sisters! People of God, hello! - answered Father John and, seeing that many fell to their knees, he said, “Bow to God, and not to me, an unworthy shepherd, I came to pray with you.” Then everyone rushed to the blessing: some grabbed the hand, some kissed the clothes, some cried; the children stretched out their little hands screaming, everyone was in a hurry to express their joy and delight in some way. Father John found a word of consolation for everyone. We approached the church; I saw all the faces, heard everything that was said around me, deeply imprinted in myself this wonderful picture of the meeting and greeting of the dear shepherd, whom all of Russia honors, loves and respects all the Orthodox people! You have to see for yourself to judge what a strong impression this touching spectacle makes, how courteous Father John is and how sincerely everyone loves him! I involuntarily remembered the words of the unforgettable Tsar-Peacemaker to Father John, which he said to him a few minutes before his death. “The people love you,” said the sovereign, “because they know who you are and what you mean to them!” Deep truth! The people fully appreciated the great merits of Father John, and therefore they love him, reverently before him, sincerely believing in the power of the prayers of the deeply respected shepherd. At the sound of the bells, Father John entered the church. As always, he began to sing Matins, and read the canon in his wonderful, sonorous, extremely pleasant voice, emphasizing particularly significant places. Addressing everyone, he asked to listen with full attention to the reading of the canon, to pray and not to disturb the reverence in the church with noise. The service lasted about two hours. Two priests served together with Father, and a choir of hastily assembled singers and village sextons sang in the choir. The whole church prayed with full zeal; From time to time the silence was broken by the extraordinary crowding of the mass of arriving people. This is not the first time I have seen Father John during a service, and I always feel an extreme desire to pray when he serves. I heard the same from others. The exclamations made during the celebration of the Sacrament of the Eucharist make a particularly strong impression. Entirely imbued with a full soul, as if experiencing the great moments of the Last Supper and the words spoken by Jesus Christ, Father John proclaims in a loud voice: “Take, eat, this is My Body - and with special emphasis: - broken for you for the remission of sins. Drink from it, all of you, this is My Blood of the New Testament, which is shed for you and for many for the remission of sins. - And finally: - Yours from Yours is brought to You for everyone and for everything! He pronounces this unusually powerfully and with great feeling!.. You are going through a lot at this moment! Of course, it’s difficult to convey – you have to see and hear. At the end of the service, Father John handed me the prosphora, saying: - Congratulations, take care! I accepted this valuable gift with deep gratitude. December 28 has always been a particularly significant day in my life - but now it’s even more precious because of these wonderful memories! Accompanied by a mass of people, Father John went to Ch-vu’s house, where he served a prayer service with the blessing of water, then went out to bless the people who had come running from all over the surrounding area. There were many sick and crippled among the masses of those eager to receive a blessing from Father John. Particular attention was drawn to a peasant woman named Iulitta, who was brought to Father by force. She screamed furiously; Father John caressed her and asked her name; then he lifted her by the head and forced her to say her Christian name. The woman did not say her name, but, lowering her head down, continued to scream. And with this word he began to baptize her, then, like a child, he stroked her and persuaded her to say her name. The woman, with an unnatural cry, raised her head and slowly began to say her name: Father John forced her to repeat this three times and, after praying, released her. Iulitta, crossing herself, silently followed him. This incident struck fear into everyone, but made a deep impression on me... The crowd kept growing. Everyone tried to get as close as possible to Father and convey their grief to him. One, for example, asks: - Father, they offend me at home, I have nowhere to lay my head! - Who offends? - asks Father John. - Go home, make peace, God willing, they won’t hurt you again. She walks completely reassured, accepting these words with faith. “My son has disappeared, dear, how can I pray for him, for health or for peace? “Go home,” said Father John, “you will see there.” As Ch-v later reported, this incident amazed everyone, since the woman, returning home, found her son, who had been missing for three years, at home. Whether this is a coincidence of circumstances, or whether the woman prayed especially fervently in the church during this service, that the Lord comforted her so much - God knows. I am only conveying a fact. One asked Father to bless her daughter, whom she had betrothed: “God bless,” said Father John, “if only she had a God-fearing and kind husband, he would love her and honor you.” I remember someone asked if he should go to a monastery. The priest inquired in detail about who he was, whether he had thought before deciding to take such a step, asked about his family circumstances, then blessed him to go to the nearest monastery. A lot of similar questions were asked, and Father John found something to say to everything: he consoled those who were crying, gave advice to the sick, and blessed everyone, adding: - God bless you, may you be according to your faith! Father John’s words sank deeply into everyone’s soul - this was evident from the faces listening with complete tenderness to Father’s dear advice. Each of them left him as if refreshed. Having refreshed himself with food, Father John wanted to take a walk. There were more than three hours left before the train. We walked around the entire park and adjacent construction sites. Father admired every hillock and tree; He will look at every bush and praise it, glorifying God’s creation in visible nature. His gait is extremely fast - in some places we almost followed him at a run. We toured the greenhouses and nursery. The bright greenery of the greenhouse plants made a pleasant impression and evoked enthusiastic remarks from Father John in praise of the one who planted and grew them. “The worker deserves a reward for his work,” he said. After the walk, feeling tired, Father wished to rest. People surrounded Ch-va's house all the time. The braver ones approached the very windows and patiently waited for Father John to appear. By lunchtime Father came out completely cheerful and cheerful. It was a pleasure to sit at the same table with him! He ate very little and cared more about others. Noticing that they were standing near the windows and waiting for him, Father John bowed in that direction and, making a welcoming sign with his hand, said: Equal to rich and poor, Father John earned himself sincere love from everyone, and everyone who just spends a little time with him and listens to his conversations becomes enchanted by this truly wonderful man! I had no time for food: I focused all my attention on Father, trying to remember his every word and movement. Seeing that he turned in my direction, I allowed myself to say that I felt here, next to him, unusually well and involuntarily wondered what it would be like for those who are sincerely devoted and respectful to Father, who are deprived of the pleasant opportunity to dine with him. Father John bowed with a smile at these words and said: - Thank you, God bless them. At the end of lunch, Father drew our attention to how generous and merciful the Lord is, how great are His benefits! “It occurred to me,” he said, “that at this hour, besides all of us present here, what a multitude of people is fed, fed, and everyone receives everything from the same bounty, from the same hand of Almighty God.” “What an abyss of wisdom and goodness of God. What omnipotence of the Heavenly Creator!..” At four o'clock in the afternoon, having blessed the people gathered near the house, Father John left for Klin. At the entrance to the city and along the entire route, its residents came out of their houses and, bowing to Father John, asked for his blessing. Such a crowd of people had gathered at the station that we had to take a detour, and only then did we manage to get into the rooms prepared for Father. The entire hall and platforms were completely occupied by the public, and those who could not fit in stood on the windows and cornices. The city administration and station authorities asked Father John to serve a general prayer service. In the hall of the first and second classes everything was prepared for this. Father, upon entering, addressed everyone with the following words: – Remember, fathers, brothers and sisters, that where two or three are gathered in the name of God, the Lord Himself is invisibly present, and whatever you ask Him for that is beneficial to our souls in your prayers with faith, you will receive (Matthew 18:20; 21:22). Let us pray to Him, the merciful, almighty God, sincerely and fervently! All the people prayed with complete tenderness, some expressed their grief out loud, many cried, others loudly asked Father to remember them in his prayers... When Father John began to bless the water, part of the audience standing on the platform, wanting to get into the hall, began to crowd heavily. The windows and doors could not stand it. To avoid the crush, Father did not dare to sprinkle holy water on everyone, but, having given the general blessing, he hurried to get into the carriage that had been prepared for him. He blessed the seriously ill and especially those in need of advice earlier, in the state rooms. Father John departed for Moscow on a 5-hour passenger train. On the way, I learned that Father had served mass the day before in the Marble Palace of Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich. “What sharp transitions,” I thought, “in the life of this extraordinary man: yesterday in a luxurious church, among the best of the capital’s society, today in a rural church among the poor common people!..” Everywhere he is the same, the same with everyone, courteous, affectionate and friendly - a wonderful and amazing nature! It’s not enough to love such a person – you revere him! The train was moving very slowly. After the first stop, Father took out his travel Gospel and began to read aloud the Council Epistle of the Apostle Peter, randomly revealing this place. Father John explained each text, especially sayings from the Old Testament Church, in detail, citing many sources, equating the teachings of the apostle with the everyday life of modern life. The 19th text of the 2nd chapter (2nd epistle) caused him a significant remark (2 Pet. 2:19). “People talk about freedom,” he said, “but they themselves are enslaved to sin - why such freedom?” Free yourself first from sin and do not succumb to temptation - this is what everyone should strive for for their own good. In conclusion, Father recalled with what death the Apostle Peter glorified God and why he was crucified not like the Savior, but with his head down. At all stations and stops, people approached the carriage in masses, Father John opened the window and blessed many. Approaching Moscow, he noticed the glow of the fire. That evening it was burning in Georgians; The fire, as it turned out, assumed enormous proportions, but, thanks to God, it soon stopped. Father stood for a long time at the open window and looked in that direction. It seemed to me that he was praying - I saw tears in his eyes... The train was approaching the station, it was hard to part with Father - I sadly approached him, asking for blessings for myself and my family. Father John said a few comforting words to me, hugged me and, blessing me, wished me true blessings from the merciful God. The deep impression of the day spent in the company of such a wonderful, dear shepherd will forever remain in my memory; it forced me to write these few lines as a keepsake for myself and those who knew him. Without exaggeration I will say that I had the best day of my life. S. Zhivotovsky. To the North with Father John The writer of these lines happened to spend thirty-four days last summer (1903 - Ed.) inseparably with Father John. For thirty-four days I saw before me a man whose name is so dear not only to the Russian Orthodox people, but also to every foreigner and non-believer who has ever encountered the Kronstadt Father or turned to him with any request. And these thirty-four days, which passed like a wonderful dream, will undoubtedly leave a deep imprint in my heart for the rest of my life. In our practical age, when personal egoism forces a person to be extremely cautious and care mainly about personal gain and well-being, when children often hear from their parents instructions like “you can’t live by the truth,” such a phenomenon as the personality of Father John represents that oasis in the sultry desert, in which a tired traveler can drink fresh, living water and gain strength for a further difficult journey. Father John is living proof that you can live the truth, you can live without deception, contrary to established modern opinion - you can live completely unselfishly and be happy. And he is happy, completely happy. Happy because whatever he does, he does it sincerely, as his Christian heart tells him. I remember the attacks on Father John that I heard from some people upon returning from the trip, regarding his letters about the Jews. “For mercy,” they told me, “why is there such inconsistency: at first he was indignant at the act of Christians who committed violence against Jews, and then suddenly he began to feel sorry for those same Christians, and even sent them financial help!” I agree that this is perhaps inconsistent, and, most importantly, imprudent on the part of Father John. It would be much more profitable for him to lead “one line,” that is, by interceding for the Jews and reproaching the Christians, in the same spirit and continue in order to be “consistent.” But Father John lives by his heart, not by calculation. And his Christian pastoral heart told him that he was not entirely right in blaming only Christians. A whole series of letters he received from Russian people from the south of Russia proved to him that Christians who committed illegal violence against Jews, although guilty, deserved leniency, since their violence was caused by violence on the part of the Jews. Now that I got to know this wonderful man closely, I understand that he could not have done otherwise - he could not because he was always used to being sincere and with this sincerity he conquered everyone. From Kronstadt to distant Sura in the north and on the way back to Yaroslavl on the Volga we traveled thousands of miles along lakes, canals and rivers. On the road, I clearly saw all the triumph, all the triumph of Father John’s honest, selfless life for the benefit of his neighbors. I saw how ordinary Russian people valued this life and how they expressed it. Most of the essays and drawings published here were placed in appendices to the Petersburg Listok newspaper. I had to send both essays and illustrations from the road while traveling. It is difficult to draw on time while a steamship is moving, constantly shuddering from the jolts of the engine - that is why a good half of my illustrations are photographs, which I generally do not like to resort to. With this publication, the author responds to those numerous letters from admirers of Father John, which were received both by the office of “Petersburg Listok” and the author personally, and which included a request to send issues of the newspaper with travel essays “To the North with Father John.” All such issues sold out very quickly, and therefore there was only one way left to satisfy the desire of admirers of Father John - to publish the essays separately, which we did as soon as possible. Chapter I. Departure from Kronstadt. - “Shestovets” and “Agafya”. – Channels. – New Ladoga. - Along the Svir River. May 25 is the day of the Holy Trinity. There is great excitement in Kronstadt. Father John for the last time before leaving for his homeland solemnly serves a mass and prayer service in St. Andrew's Cathedral on the occasion of the birthday of the Empress. A bright sunny day, after two days of continuous rain, contributes to the festive mood of the public, which, by the end of the service in the cathedral, poured out onto the streets of Kronstadt and gathered in thick masses in those places where Father John was supposed to pass. With difficulty I made my way to the dam of the so-called Ust-Canal in the military harbor, where his own steamship “Lyubezny” was already waiting for Father. The public was allowed here only with tickets. By half-past two in the afternoon, when from the distant shouting and excitement in the crowd one could guess that Father John was already on his way, such a mass of people had accumulated on the deck of the little “Lubezny” seeing off to St. Petersburg that I was perplexed: where would Father John himself fit? But, thank God, they somehow fit in. It was only difficult to set sail from the shore, since the mourners, with tears in their eyes, grabbed the side of the ship and did not want to let go of the ship for a long time. When the ship finally separated from the shore, a loud voice was heard from the crowd: - Father, dear! I am a poor official, I tried to see you four times, and all in vain! Help, for God's sake! There is grief in my family! The priest asked the ship to approach the pier and handed over a bag of money to the one who asked. Finally, the "Dear" pulled away and headed towards the exit of the harbor. At this time, Petrovskaya Embankment appeared from behind the military ships and on it was a whole sea of ​​human heads. Screams and crying were heard, scarves flashed in the air, and several skiffs separated from the shore and headed across our steamer. But here is the exit from the port; We passed by several handsome, formidable cruisers and battleships, on which at that time, on the occasion of Tsar’s Day, flags of all countries were flying and music was thundering, and we went out into the bay. Far ahead, among the hazy horizon, the dome of St. Isaac's Cathedral shone, and behind, like the wings of white gulls, the scarves of Father John's spiritual children flashed in the air. We stopped in St. Petersburg in order to disembark those seeing off from Kronstadt. On the Promenade des Anglais, Father John was greeted by the abbess of the Ioannovsky Monastery he had recently founded on the Karpovka River in St. Petersburg, and Mother Angelina with the nun Eupraxia. Some fishmonger merchants brought Father a yard-long live sterlet, and a crowd immediately grew on the sidewalk opposite the pier. - Dear Father, you are our father, goodbye! Happy swimming! Come quickly! All these good wishes came to us from all sides. When we set off, the crowd began to run along the embankment after us. Many fled all the way to the Kalashnikov pier and stopped only because here our steamer turned sharply towards the Okhten shore and disappeared behind the barges. When we reached the Church of St. Michael the Archangel, two skiffs separated from the shore and sailed towards us; The monks of the Nikiforovsky metochion greeted Father John with bread and salt. We arrived in Shlisselburg only at 11 pm. Here two steamships were already waiting for us - “Shestovets” and “Agafya”, provided for the journey of Father John by the Vytegorsk merchant A. Loparev, since the “Lyubezny” sits very deep and is inconvenient for sailing along the canals. With great difficulty we transferred to new ships. In the evening, a few miles before Shlisselburg, the deck of the “Lyubezny” was covered with such a mass of some special midges, similar to moths, only much larger than the latter, that many, crushing them with their feet, slid and risked falling. Since everyone was very tired during the day and it was time to go to bed, Father John went to the cabin of the small “Shestovets”, on which the owner of the ship himself, who had come to meet Father from Vytegra, was waiting for him, and I and the abbot of the Nikiforov Monastery, Hieromonk George, who was accompanying Father John, settled down on the “Agafya”. Having said goodbye to the last mourners, we immediately set sail and entered the Alexander II Canal. "Shestovets" walked ahead, followed by "Agafya". Ordinary steamships have the right to travel along canals no more than 7 versts per hour, but we walked at a speed of 10 versts, and therefore by 9 o’clock in the morning on May 26 we were already in Ladoga. Father John's unexpected stop in Novaya Ladoga alarmed the entire population of the city. The news that Father John would serve mass in the Church of St. Clement spread throughout the surrounding area with the speed of lightning, and people flocked to the church. When the mass ended, there was a huge crowd of people in the square in front of the church. Father John, having difficulty sitting down in the troika given to him, went to the house of the merchant Spirov, where he was invited to dinner. And then this whole mass began to stir and rushed after the crew. I, who was riding in the other carriage behind Father, had to shout all the time along with the coachman for fear of crushing someone. Despite all the precautions, in addition to us, Father John’s companions, and the invited guests of honor, about forty people from the crowd ended up in Mr. Spirov’s apartment. Everyone complained about their misfortunes and illnesses and asked for blessings. Father John treated everyone kindly and blessed everyone. Having had lunch after a short prayer service and thanking the hosts for their hospitality, we went to our ships and immediately set off on our further journey. Having passed the wide and rather busy mouth of the Volkhov, we again entered the boring, monotonous canal. An endless dam stretches out, overgrown with low willow trees, from behind which the steel-gray Lake Ladoga appears from time to time on one side and the same endless towpath on the other side. Behind the towpath, flooded meadows stretch for many miles, and here and there only on a hillock one can see groups of trees and occasionally a village with a white church appears. In the middle of summer, the bleak picture of the Ladoga region is enlivened by an endless row of barges or, as they are called here, semi-boats, walking along the canals one after another. A sad song, disgusting swearing and whistling of the drivers of the unfortunate barge horses will hang in the air from early morning until late at night. Now the navigation period has not yet arrived, and therefore only occasionally do we come across ships with timber. Unhappy horses drag these ships. It's hard to imagine anything sadder than these animals. Small, emaciated, their figure rather reminiscent of starved cows, they trudge along with their heads hanging; they trudge along in single file, one after the other, sighing heavily, until one of them, finally, having exhausted the rest of her strength, falls, never to get up again. Thanks to the fact that the canal is now almost free of ships, we proceeded without delays and by 6 pm on May 26 we arrived in Sviritsa. Sviritsa is a small village, concentrated mainly near the office of the chain shipping company. Here we boarded a large sea-type steamer "Bayan" and, taking the empty "Shestovets" in tow, entered the mouth of the Svir River. Here the area immediately changed. Instead of the boring low banks of the canal, the free, lively and fast beauty of Svir began. We are already within the Olonets province. The higher we rise along the river, the more mountainous its banks become. Among the forests, elevated meadows and fields sown with grain, every now and then you come across villages, the inhabitants of which, having learned from afar who is traveling on our ship, pour out onto the shore in a motley crowd, bow to the ground, throw their hats up and try in every possible way to express their sympathies to Father John. As soon as we stopped at one pier to get firewood, a group of young girls brought Father several bouquets of lilies of the valley. How much joy, how much happiness was written on the face of every old woman who managed to receive the blessing of Father John! Father John strokes the head, pats the shoulders, traces the eyes of the sick, and the latter, happy, return home with great moral uplift. We expected to get to the village. Ascension on May 27 in the morning, but at one in the morning our ship suddenly stopped one mile from the Podandevsky threshold. It turned out that from the upper platform our pilot noticed that there was thick fog over the threshold. There was nothing to do; We landed on the shore and only at five o’clock in the morning we set off on our further journey. On the morning of May 27, we passed the formidable and largest Sigovets rapids on the Svir, which got its name from the abundance of whitefish that are always caught here. The area north of Sigovets is remarkably beautiful. At every step, among the virgin forest, you come across villages with typical Olonets huts. The abundance of forest is expressed here in huge, sometimes three-story huts, under the roofs of which there is certainly a balcony. Closer to Lake Onega, the banks of the Svir gradually decrease, and therefore are less interesting than in its middle part. Finally, at 5 o’clock in the evening, we arrived in Voznesenye and, having collected firewood, went out into Lake Onega, releasing the “Shestovets”, which went to Vytegra by canal. Chapter II. Lake Onega. – Vytegra River. – Visiting A.P. Lopareva. – Vytegorsky Pogost We went out into Lake Onega, leaving a disappointed public at Ascension: everyone was hoping to see Father, so a large crowd gathered on the pier where we were loading firewood, but Father John was resting in the cabin at that time and came out on deck only when the ship was already sailing on the mirror-smooth lake. It was dead calm. We walked in a straight line east, to the mouth of the Vytegra River. To the right you can see the Olonets mountains, and on the left side the expanse of water merges with the sky and seems to be one gray mass, over which the white wings of seagulls flicker every now and then, flocks of wild ducks fly screaming, and below, at a distance of several fathoms from the steamer, seals frolic in the open space. To the north-west of us there is a strip of distant rocks known for their quarries. From the quarries, by the way, the Shoksha porphyry, from which the tomb of Napoleon I was made in Paris, and the Solomensky stone (7 versts from Petrozavodsk), taken to decorate St. Isaac's Cathedral in St. Petersburg, were taken. “That’s when I fully relax,” says Father John, who came up to me, “only on the ship is there an opportunity to spend time in complete peace.” My popularity is sometimes difficult for me: I can’t show myself anywhere, I can’t go anywhere freely without being noticed. And indeed, as soon as Father John steps onto the shore somewhere, a crowd surrounds him from all sides, and it takes great effort to free himself from its embrace. It belongs to itself only when it is surrounded on all sides by water. On a small deck of a few square arshins, he has freedom for a short time as a reward for a whole year of living exclusively for others. However, even in this short time of leisure, I rarely see Father idle. First he reads the Holy Gospel, then he writes down his impressions in his diary, then he thinks about the sermon for the next day, since it’s rare that we don’t stop somewhere to serve mass. And only occasionally he walks along the deck, contemplating nature and admiring it. Thanks to good weather, we pretty soon passed Lake Onega and entered the mouth of the Vytegra River. This river makes a strange impression. Narrow, like a canal, always the same width, it passes through the flooded meadows in beautiful meanders. Instead of the banks, you can see the tops of bright green grass, drowned in the water. The waves running in both directions from our steamer fly onto these living green carpets and shake them. It turns out to be a very beautiful sight. It is difficult to imagine that this narrow swamp river is so deep that it can be navigable; and meanwhile, large sea vessels in pairs pass freely along the Vytegra. Almost at the very city of Vytegra we caught up with a huge steam schooner heading into the Caspian Sea. The Persians on board looked at us with bewilderment from their high deck, not understanding why the Russian people respectfully took off their hats and bowed so low in front of our ship. In Vytegra, the meeting of Father John was especially solemn. Despite the fact that it was already late, the whole city poured out onto the embankment, where the clergy and city authorities met Father on the pier decorated with flags and covered with red cloth. In several carriages we went to the Loparev estate, three miles from the city of Vytegra, and stopped at the famous Loparevsky palazzo. The late Loparev came from a family of coachmen; Thanks to Russian ingenuity and lucrative contracts for the construction of locks on the Mariinsky system, he became a millionaire and decided to build a house in which he would not be ashamed to receive visiting dignitaries. The house is spacious, wooden, in Russian style. Carved ceilings and walls, majolica fireplaces and stoves, colossal mirrors, heavy carved furniture and paintings in rich frames indicate that the owner spared no expense in decorating the house. Father John has been staying here for nine years in a row. On the morning of May 28, Father John served mass in the city of Vytegra and said a word against the schismatics, of whom there are many here. After mass at the Loparevs’ house, he was offered to us by the hospitable hostess A.P. Lapp's dinner, which was attended by about 35 invited people. Many speeches were said in honor of Father John, but the most cordial and sympathetic was the short speech given impromptu by the missionary of the Vytegorsk district, priest N. Georgievsky. Here is its approximate content: “Deeply revered Father Archpriest! Last year in the Vytegorsk Cathedral in your speech you said: “It gives me great joy to travel to all the cities of my dear Russia.” And for us you always bring true pleasure! In fact, as soon as you enter, Father, into any town or city, despite everyday life, you hear the joyful, solemn ringing of a large bell, a council of servants gathers with you, merchants close their shops, peasants throw harrows and plows into the field, mothers in great numbers bring their children for communion! A religious uplift of spirit is noticed, and the warmth of prayer intensifies. And no wonder: you, Father, are the flame of prayer. Just as surrounding objects heat up from an ordinary fire, often catch fire and burn with a huge common fire, so your prayerful flame embraces everyone, both those serving and those praying, and the whole church prays with you more earnestly, warmer!” In the evening, Father John took a long walk around the small garden and in the garden he read the evening rule. The next day in the morning we made a trip to the Vytegorsky churchyard, where Father served mass. The twenty-two-domed church of the Vytegorsky churchyard is remarkably interesting in its architecture. It was built according to the Great Peter’s own drawing in 1788 and is still preserved in its original form. Another church, standing a few fathoms from the first, was built a little later and is not so interesting from the outside, but inside I found very rare wooden figures of the Savior and St. Nile. Chapter III. On threes along the towpath. - In the locks. - At the Nevorotina plant. - Belozersky Canal. – Night alarm in the Goritsky convent In Vytegra we said goodbye to the Bayan, which has a deep draft. Having reloaded the luggage onto the Shestovets, which had arrived by this time, and the new steamship Kemu, provided to Father by the merchant Nevorotin, we sent both ships forward several hours before our departure. They themselves decided to make a 26-verst journey on horseback in order to avoid boring stops at the 19 locks located here. At about five o'clock in the evening on May 29, having said goodbye to the hospitable hostess, we set off in a long cortege in several troikas. The road here is very diverse. Then we rush along the smooth and narrow towpath, constantly forcing the oncoming barge horses, dejectedly pulling their towline, to turn towards the oncoming ones, then we jump over the dam, rush with a roar along the bridge and, flying up the hill, we pass along the street of the village. The banks of the Vytegra here are hilly and picturesque, although the river itself in its shape is no different from an ordinary canal: it is always equally narrow and has no bays. We drove 26 miles unnoticed and went down to the pier of the Kanal Shipping Company, where at that time the Shestovets and Kema were already waiting for us, having managed to pass 19 obstacles “as they wanted.” We still had to go through a few more locks along the Novo-Mariinsky Canal. At each gateway there was a touching scene of Father’s meeting with the instantly gathering people. “You are our red sunshine! My dear darling! Pray for us sinners!” – was heard from the crowd, who extended dozens of hands folded for blessing towards our ship from behind the airlock railing. When the water let into the lock lifted our steamer to the height of its sides, it took a lot of effort for us to set sail, since the people standing on the shore, clinging tightly to the steamer, did not let go for a long time. Everyone wanted to complain about their misfortunes and get consolation. Father distributed copper icons and crosses to many, although it was not easy, because there was a dump and people risked falling into the water. Having passed through the locks of St. Peter, St. George and St. Alexander with great delays, we entered the Kovzha River and by three o’clock in the morning we came to the mouth of the Udashka River, where the large Nevorotin sawmill is located, making boards with 120 workers for more than 90 thousand rubles. At the plant there is an exemplary fire brigade and a large house with a garden of the owners of the plant, the Nevorotin brothers. This is where we stopped. Since it was already three o'clock in the morning, we stayed on the ships until the morning. In the morning, Father John served mass 9 miles from the plant, in the Resurrection parish, where he preached a sermon on the topic “How we should live in love and harmony.” After mass, Father, as usual, went to see the local priest. At this time, a crowd of workers with their wives and children had already gathered at the Nevorotins’ house. Here Father John served a prayer service, after which he blessed and consoled the suffering for a very long time. What kind of complaints did Father have to listen to! In particular, many women resort to his help. One has a drunkard’s husband, another has no children, the third has some kind of incurable disease... And Father John will console everyone, caress everyone, give everyone hope. After the prayer service we were offered lunch, during which a choir of local amateurs sang spiritual things. When the champagne was served, toasts began for Father John, the hosts, the local clergy, etc., Father John remembered the poor people who earned a piece of bread by the sweat of their brow, and, taking a glass of champagne, went into the next room, where from behind the backs of the choristers several dozen eyes of workers, women and children were looking at our meal. It was necessary to see with what reverence these workers crossed themselves and took a sip of wine from the hands of the revered shepherd. At about two o'clock in the afternoon, in heavy rain, we set off on our further journey, accompanied by the owners of our ships, Messrs. Nevorotin and Loparev. Soon the Kovzha River imperceptibly crossed into the Belozersky Canal, and from the deck we saw White Lake. The picture is almost the same as on the Ladoga canals, only the banks of the Belozersk canal are, perhaps, somewhat higher than the first ones. At about 9 pm we passed by Belozersk. The ancient residence of Sineus under hanging rain clouds presents a bleak picture of the outback when you look at Belozersk from the ship. Only the heads of its fourteen churches somewhat enliven the monotonous picture. At about eleven o'clock in the evening we left the canal and entered the wide, beautiful Sheksna. After the cramped confines of the canal, the river, which has spread widely and flooded the meadows, produces some kind of joyful impression. Despite the night, you constantly see large steamers with green and red lantern eyes. Caravans of barges are pulling. There are whistles and people shouting... At about one o'clock in the morning, in the distance, on the high bank of the Sheksna, the buildings of the Goritsky convent began to appear white, where they were waiting for Father and where he was going to serve mass in the morning. Not wanting, however, to disturb the monastery at night, Father decided to stop five miles from the monastery and spend the night in the Shestovets cabin in order to approach the monastery in the morning. Since it was not entirely comfortable to sleep in the cabin of the ship, especially since the best place had long been occupied by Hieromonk Georgiy, who was reading his evening rule, I and the police officer who accompanied us from Vytegra, I.V. The Kachalovs decided to go to the monastery on the Kema in order to spend the night in the monastery hotel. Unfortunately, this led to a small misunderstanding. When we were already approaching the monastery, we had to overtake one private steamer, as a result of which the nuns watching from the bell tower, seeing two steamships going together, thought that Father John was coming, and therefore began to ring. We began to wave our handkerchiefs at them, wanting to stop the ringing of the bells, but the nuns took this for greetings and therefore did not stop. Soon the entire monastery with the abbess at its head was already on the shore. The bailiff appeared with the constables; Awakened people fled from the village next to the monastery... And everything turned out to be in vain. Confused, the police officer and I went ashore and announced that there was no one on the ship except Father George, who was praying and had heard nothing. At 8 o’clock in the morning Father arrived on the “Shestovets” and went straight from the pier to the monastery church, where he celebrated mass and administered the Holy Mysteries to the nuns. After mass, a chair was placed in the first room of the abbot’s apartment for Father John. Here, taking turns ascending the stairs in an endless line, the sisters of the monastery approached Father for a blessing. More than 600 sisters passed by Father. After the sisters, the pilgrims followed in the same order, crowding the entire area in front of the abbess’s house. Having dined while the monastery choir sang with the abbess, we all went to the Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery, five miles away from the Goritsky Monastery. Here Father served a short prayer service at the shrine of St. Kirill and, after drinking a glass of tea with the rector of the monastery, Archimandrite Theodosius, he went to the city of Kirillov to make some visits. At this time, our steamships had already approached the city and were waiting for us on the Pozdushka River, along which we later crossed into the Württemberg Canal, connecting Sheksna with Lake Kubensky. Chapter IV. Meeting with the steamship "St. Nicholas the Wonderworker." - On Lake Kubenskoye. – Spaso-Kamensky Monastery. – Sad consequences of ice drift. – The city of Totma on the Sukhona River Our entire journey from Kirillov to Lake Kubenskoye was some kind of triumphal procession of Father John. What happened here defies description. Entire villages, young and old, poured out to meet us and ran for several miles, falling to their knees, stretching out their hands to Father John and crossing themselves. There was a fence along the way - and a motley crowd, without thinking, climbed onto it, jumped down and again ran after the steamer until the canal ended and a lake began, along which it was no longer possible to run. At one lock I noticed a very pretty girl of about twelve who had already run about eight miles and was now earnestly asking for a cross. But here she never managed to give anything, since the thrown crosses and icons were instantly picked up by others. When the steamer, leaving the lock, went along the canal, I again saw a tireless girl among the running crowd. First she took off the scarf from her head, then she also took off her blouse, since it was very hot. By the end I saw her already running with her long hair flying in the air in only a shirt. She carried her entire wardrobe in her hand. I asked the helmsman to come closer to the shore and, seizing an opportune moment, very successfully threw Father John’s card to the tireless girl. She picked her up and, pressing her to her chest, still continued to run until the canal ended and a small lake began. Finally, at 7 pm at the 12th lock we met Father John’s own large steamship “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker,” who came for Father from Sura. Three young nuns, the ship's servants, greeted us with tears. It turned out that they had been waiting for us for eleven days, since Father had planned to leave Kronstadt earlier on May 15, but then postponed his departure. Having reloaded your luggage from the “Shestovets” and “Kema” onto the large and comfortable steamer “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker,” we said goodbye to the hospitable and kind gentlemen. Nevorotin, Loparev and I.V. Kachalov and went to Lake Kubenskoye, which was only a few miles away. “Shestovets” and “Kema” and the small railway steamer that later joined them greeted us goodbye for a long time with intermittent whistles. It turned out original and touching. Night found us in the middle of Lake Kubenskoye, where, due to thick fog, we had to anchor. When dawn broke, a very beautiful Spaso-Kamensky Monastery appeared in front of us, surrounded on all sides by water. The entire island on which this monastery is built has a circumference of about 200 fathoms, therefore, except for a small courtyard and a short distance between the church and the hotel, the entire surface of the island is occupied by monastery buildings and a rescue station nestled in the eastern part of the monastery. Since it was about 8 o’clock in the morning, Father decided to serve mass in the monastery and therefore ordered to land on the island. Even from a distance, we noticed the ruins of a completely new one-story house and could not understand what the reason for the destruction was, since there could not be an earthquake, and in the event of a fire, the walls would have been smoked and the logs would have been charred, which was not noticed here. At the monastery we were told that everything was done by the ice drift last spring. Something terrible happens here every year when the rivers open up. Under the pressure of the water, the ice floes, piled one on top of the other, like countless enemies about to attack, crawl onto the shore, then onto the walls and, finally, even climb onto the roof of a high cathedral. Huge stones, picked up from the bottom by an ice mass, rise with the same mass to a terrible height. On the shore of the island to this day lies a stone weighing 500 pounds, removed after the ice drift from the roof of the monastery cathedral. The ancient Spaso-Kamensky Monastery, founded in the 13th century, currently makes a sad impression. Poverty and desolation are appalling! The altars in the altars stand empty, and only in one small chapel, when we arrived, Matins was going on. One can imagine how delighted those five monks who made up the entire brethren of the monastery were when Father John unexpectedly appeared in the church. Having served mass and contributed a substantial sum to the needs of the monastery, Father said goodbye to the happy brethren, and at about 10 o’clock in the morning we set off on our further journey. An hour later we entered the Sukhona River, called Ramanga in its upper reaches. - Well, no, Father, as you like, but I’m happier than you. You are a local resident, and he, the red sun, drives past you every year, well, it’s not a wonder that he stopped by. Me is another matter. Now I’m making my way from Poltava to Solovki on a pilgrimage, but I accidentally ended up in Kamensky with you, and suddenly such happiness! I received communion at Father John of Kronstadt’s place! Yes, I never dreamed of such happiness! The hieromonk of the Kamensky Monastery, to whom these words were addressed, in turn tried to prove to the praying mantis that he and his brethren were happier than her. Such a dispute took place on the shore of Kamensky Island, near our ship, before Father John left the abbot’s apartment, a few minutes before our departure. How now I see the face of this old woman. How much sincere happiness, how much faith in her extinct eyes, wet with tears! A whole event happened in her life. From her conversation with the monk, I learned that she had long dreamed of seeing Father, but did not dare to go to Kronstadt: she was afraid that they would not be allowed to see him. And suddenly such a happy meeting! For a long time afterwards she stood kneeling on the pier of the monastery and looked after our ship. The upper reaches of the Sukhona River, called here Ramanga, are very similar in character to the Vytegra River. Low banks, overgrown with bushes and poor hay, which usually remain unmown, stretch for many miles. In the spring, this entire area is usually filled with water and, united with the Vologda River into one whole, it becomes a huge lake 75 miles wide. As we go downstream, the banks of the Sukhona become more mountainous and the current becomes faster. From Lake Kubenskoye to the Skorodum rapids, over a distance of 266 versts, the Sukhona falls by 4/2 - and then over a distance of 257 versts its drop reaches 24 degrees. The bottom of the Sukhona is very rocky; Every now and then you come across huge boulders, and therefore great experience and caution are required from the pilot. Our own pilots from Father John's steamship know the safe Northern Dvina and native Pinega well, but they do not dare to navigate the ship on the Sukhona on their own, and therefore we are led by a local pilot taken in Veliky Ustyug. A small, skinny man with a thin goatee, he stands at the helm, peering intently into the distance, into the fast waters of the Sukhona, on the surface of which, by barely noticeable spots and swells, one can recognize where the formidable boulders are hidden. He stands there continuously for two days and suffers only because he had to part with his inseparable friend - his dear pipe, since Father John does not like tobacco smoke. “Two days is nothing, you can survive,” he says, “because it’s a common thing; I had to stand for three days at a time, but it was already difficult: it made me feel painfully sleepy. Our pilot has been sailing along the Sukhona for twenty-six years, performing every navigation on 29 flights, and despite this, throughout our journey he vigilantly monitors the milestones and outlines of the banks, afraid of running into a stone. In some places we walk along the river, leaving the waymarks completely aside. According to the pilot, they especially cannot be trusted, because the railway pilots who place milestones here often make mistakes, despite the fact that each such pilot must monitor the fairway of his section over only a space of 25 versts. Early in the morning of July 2, we were already approaching the city of Totma, 9 versts from which the Tsareva River flows into the Sukhona. Here, during his journey to the north, Peter I drank tea, further down lies the “Elk” stone, on which he dined. We stopped in Totma for only half an hour to deliver letters to the post office and stock up on some provisions. Therefore, it was not possible to examine the city and its antiquities in detail. Meanwhile, there is a lot of interesting things here. The city of Totma is widely spread on the high left bank of the Sukhona and its tributary, the Pesya Denga River, in the valley of which, on the outskirts of the city, stands the ancient Church of John the Baptist and the Spaso-Sumorin Monastery. This monastery was founded in 1551; in it rest the relics of its founder, the Venerable Theodosius Sumorin, who was born in Vologda in the first half of the 16th century and lived in Totma to look after the salt pans that belonged to the Prilutsky Monastery at that time. The salt plant in Totma still exists, and up to 100,000 pounds of salt are mined annually. On the northern side of the city there is a small “Tsarev” meadow and nearby, along the Kovda River, an aspen grove of “gallows”, where Tsar Ivan Vasilyevich the Terrible dealt with the Totmeks. The beginning of Totma dates back to the 15th century. In 1539, the city was devastated by the Kazan Tatars; in 1565 Totma was mentioned among the cities of the oprichnina. During the troubled period of impostors, Totma took an active part in government affairs. Peter I exiled Fyodor Abramovich Lopukhin here for imprisonment, the brother of Queen Evdokia, who, they say, herself lived for some time in the former Totemsky convent. Chapter V. Along the Sukhona River. - Opoki. – Stay in Ustyug the Great Beyond Totma, the banks of the Sukhona rise even higher and are completely covered with dense forest, which has already fallen in huge quantities and cluttered the cliffs that descend steeply to the river. All this is the work of great waters and ice drift, which is no less terrible here than on Lake Kubenskoye. Near the village of Porog, above the dangerous crossing of Opoka, the bank of the Sukhona, reaching 40 fathoms in height here, presents a very interesting sight. Imagine a huge, almost vertical wall for a mile, descending to a formidable threshold, which with its flow here describes an almost regular semicircle. Layers of lime, gypsum and sand, running in regular lines one above the other, make the shore look like a huge piece of layered marshmallow, cut with a sharp knife. The fall of the water and its speed are visible here to the eye. Our steamer, guided by an experienced hand, at first went almost straight onto the rocks over which the water was boiling. It seemed that in another minute we would hit the most dangerous place, especially since the pilot did not change the direction of the rudder. But then the secret was revealed. When the distance to the formidable stones remained no more than five fathoms, our steamer was picked up by some unknown force and carried with terrible speed in the direction completely opposite from the stones. A minute later we saw the formidable rapids already far behind us. It turned out that if we had taken a direction further from the stones, then the side current could have carried us to the opposite bank and crashed against the stones. Having made a sharp turn from the rapids, the river noticeably calmed down and its flow became quieter. We expected to pass Veliky Ustyug at night, but the fog that rose at about 11 o'clock in the evening forced us to anchor. The temperature dropped to +3°, and all the inhabitants of the ship hid in their cabins. Only Father, having put on a fur coat and a warm skufa, remained on the deck for a long time, holding the inseparable Gospel in his hands, and apparently enjoyed the majestic silence and beauty of nature. At 6 o'clock in the morning on June 3, when the fog cleared, we set off on our further journey and by 8 o'clock we were already approaching Veliky Ustyug. Ustyug, like Totma, located on the left mountainous bank of the Sukhona, is very beautiful. Its 28 churches, painted white and decorated with countless domes of the most bizarre shapes, give the impression of something fabulous from a distance. There's an air of antiquity about you here. It just seems to you that when you approach the city, on its shore, at the city gates, you will see guards in chain mail and iron caps, on the streets of the city near the rich towers you will come across boyars and merchants in rich Russian costumes, and from the little room of the high tower, from the quaint little window, the face of a black-eyed beauty, half-covered with a veil, will look at you. But this is only from a distance. Nearby, only churches and monasteries have retained their ancient appearance. Since the day before Father John did not serve mass, which is always a great deprivation for him, it was decided to stop in Ustyug, and the time was right - 8 o’clock in the morning. We approached the log embankment, dilapidated by the ice drift, and moored to the pier of the Northern Dvina Shipping Company. Unmet by anyone, Father John and Hieromonk George took the first available cab in a very uncomfortable line and went straight to the cathedral, where, of course, no one was expecting them. Not wanting to waste valuable time, I grabbed a photographic camera and went to explore the city. First of all, I headed to the largest local bookstore, fully confident that I would find there a whole series of all kinds of photographs, open letters and albums with views of Ustyug and its beautiful surroundings. But alas!.. Apart from two or three half-faded and fly-stained photographs, I found nothing. And this in a city abounding in antiquities and rarities, with up to 9 thousand inhabitants! I involuntarily remembered little Serdobol in Finland, where I had to wander two years ago, during my wanderings around the vast Mother Russia. Serdobol has a population of no more than 3 thousand and there are almost no antiquities, but what an abundance of all kinds of albums with phototypical views of Karelia! How many open letters and all kinds of publications! We haven't grown up to this yet! Meanwhile, Ustyug the Great, occupying a rare geographical position, constantly sees a lot of visiting guests, and not only Russians, but also foreigners. The Sukhona River connects it through the Duke of Wirtemberg's canal with the Volga, both capitals and lower provinces, and Vychegda with Siberia. Ustyug briskly trades with Arkhangelsk bread, lard, flax, soap, yuft, bristles and matting; its merchants visit fairs - Nizhny Novgorod, Irbit and Rostov, and the city itself is enlivened by the fair on the day of the Ustyug miracle worker St. Procopius, July 8. With the construction of the Siberian Railway from Perm to Kotlas, a wide field of trading activity opened up for the residents of Ustyug. In ancient times the city was called Glyaden. On the current “Black Priluk” the city was founded in 1212 and occupied one of the leading places in the economic and political life of Russia, which is why, like Novgorod and Rostov, it is called “Great”. The city withstood Tatar raids more than once and took part in our movement to the east. Ustyug is the birthplace of the conqueror of the Amur Erofei Khabarov and the famous enlightener of the Zyryans in the 16th century, St. Stephen, the Perm bishop. Next to the city Assumption Cathedral, in which Father John served mass and where it was difficult to penetrate, since the Ustyun residents, having learned about the unexpected arrival of Father, quickly filled the church, there is a small cathedral of the righteous Procopius, in the left choir of which the relics of this saint rest. The righteous Procopius came to Novgorod from the German land in the middle of the 13th century, accepted Orthodoxy and the image of the fool for Christ. The most important event in the life of the righteous Procopius was, according to legend, the approach to Ustyug in 1290 on June 25 of a terrible stone cloud that broke out 20 versts from Ustyug in the Kotovalskaya volost. At the entrance to the cathedral, near the southern doors, one of the stones that fell from the cloud, brought here in 1638, lies on a pedestal. In the cathedral itself there is a remarkable image of St. Procopius, embroidered with pearls. Nearby there is a small church with the relics of Righteous John. Two Ustyug monasteries - the male Arkhangelsky and the female Predtechensky monasteries on Sokolinaya Gora - date back to the 13th century. There is a lot of interesting things in Ustyug, but, of course, I had to limit myself to a very cursory review. Thanks also to the young local priest, who was so kind that, having learned for what purpose I was traveling, from nowhere he got me inventories of some Ustyug churches, and I could write something down right there, in the Cathedral of St. Procopius. After taking a few photographs and thanking the kind priest for his attention, I hurried to our ship. If I had arrived at the pier an hour later, I would have risked not getting on the ship at all, since the city already knew about the arrival of Father John and the embankment was crowded with people. Despite the police's strictures, several people from the public managed to get onto the ship. Father listened to everyone, blessed them, gave money to some, and when only “our own” remained on the ship, we set sail. Again, the same picture as in Kronstadt, and in St. Petersburg, and in many other cities: Father John bows from the deck and blesses those seeing them off, and from the shore thousands of hands wave scarves, hats, and well-wishes and greetings reach us. Chapter VI. On Malaya Dvina. - Kotlas. – Northern Dvina Soon we saw the mouth of the Yuga River, 4 versts from the city. The so-called Malaya Dvina already begins here. The banks became noticeably lower and the river wider. The Malaya Dvina is only 66 versts long and merges with the Vychegda River two versts from the village of Kotlas, where Perm ends. Kotlas railway. From the river you can see a whole row of railway barns, from which chutes descend down to the river, through which goods are very quickly reloaded from wagons onto steamships. Two sisters - Vychegda and Sukhona, the first from the east, the second from the west - carry their waters towards each other and, having merged into one, turn sharply to the north and, under the name of the Northern Dvina, continue their journey to the White Sea. But the eastern and western beauties definitely do not get along with each other and no, no, they will go in different directions, forming separate branches and channels. Low islands made of alluvial sand, overgrown with skinny willows, continually pile up among the immense expanse of the waters of the northern nurse - the Dvina. “Here it is, my dear, dear Northern Dvina,” Father John quietly whispers, peering with delight and reverence at the place where the Vychegda, having met the Sukhona, or otherwise the Small Dvina, turned left and spilled over into the wide, mighty Northern Dvina. Many times in his life Father John had to sail along the Northern Dvina. As a young man, an unknown student at the Theological Academy, he traveled this way from St. Petersburg to his homeland. Now, for many years in a row, he has been passing here, surrounded by glory, and universal love, and respect, generously helping those in need. Whether the peasant’s cattle die, whether the hut burns down, or the church needs repairs, but one’s own funds are not enough - all hope is in Father. Father will come and help. True, people often abuse the trust of Father John, and the money given to satisfy a serious need does not reach its destination. But this is a common phenomenon in any charity, and it is impossible to eradicate this evil. However, even here the charm of the name of Father John does its job. Everyone knows that Father, when helping people in need with money, not only does not make inquiries about the person who asks for help, but often gives money without counting it, just for luck - as much as he can get his hands on. Only he will look into the eyes of the one who addresses him with his pure good look. Therefore, you must be too much of a spoiled person to decide to deceive Father. And this is the strength of Father John. The common people approach him with the fear of God, seeing in him an inspired priest and a true shepherd-father, to whom they can bow their tired head, worn out by their work life. - Hello, Orthodox Christians, hello, dear children, hello, womb, hello, grandmother! These are the usual phrases that Father John addresses to the common people when our ship approaches the shore. And you need to see with your own eyes how much happiness, how much quiet joy these few words spoken by Father John bring in order to understand that he is for the Russian people and how strong the faith is in this downtrodden people. Tell these people just two words: “For faith and fatherland!” - and he will immediately turn into such a hero that he will have no equal in strength. At the entrance to the Northern Dvina we met a very beautiful steamship, crowded with pilgrims returning from Solovki. On the ship they recognized Father John standing on the wheelhouse, and people began to stir, waving their hats and scarves. This was the first greeting from the Northern Dvina, to which Father joyfully responded, standing with his head naked and holding his straw hat high in the air. After the deserted Sukhona, where villages are only occasionally found, the Northern Dvina seems very lively. A long line stretches out caravan after caravan of timber rafted in Arkhangelsk. Russian timber wealth flows mainly from the Vychegda River, and therefore most of the workers on the rafts are Zyryans. Usually the largest raft, the “caravan” raft, floats ahead of the caravan. Here you often see a whole household: there is a clerk’s hut, decorated with a flag nailed to a high pole, there is a sleigh nearby, obviously for the return trip in winter, there are household utensils, around which a woman is fussing. A little further away you can see several small huts - these are already for workers. On the remaining rafts, for the most part, there are no huts at all, and the workers spend day and night, in all weathers, in the open air. Large villages with beautiful, often very ancient churches can be found at every turn. The population is mainly engaged in shipping and fishing. Almost the entire crew of our ship are natives of the villages near Dvina. Women are in no way inferior to men in work; everyone is rowing vigorously both in boats and on rafts. If you see several men and women in a boat, then women will certainly row and unless only a man will sit at the helm. - Why is this so? – I asked to find out and asked our “commander”: - Why are women rowing while a man sits on the steering wheel? “Well, how could it be otherwise,” the commander was surprised in turn. “That’s why he’s the master, and their job is a woman’s: to obey.” That's it. Evening came, and then night, which we could only know from the clock, since it was as light as day. The impression is as if clouds were found in the sun and a light shadow lay on the ground. The smallest print is easy to read. But the feathered kingdom fell asleep. Ducks and loons do not ply the water, and seagulls do not flash in the air. Only on the shore and on the sandbanks do you often see long white stripes, as if there was unmelted snow lying or hundreds of white champignons covering the shore with their mass - these are flocks of white seagulls sleeping. There is a kind of solemn calm in nature and you can feel the night. Until two o'clock in the morning Father John walked along the deck, admiring the northern night, and only when the sun had already appeared did he retire to his cabin. Chapter VII. The beauty of northern nature. - Pinega River. – Soyla village The next day, June 4, we passed by the provincial town of Solvychegodsk district - Krasnoborsk, famous for the squirrel fur fair (November 30), and soon entered the Arkhangelsk province. On this day, Father did not serve mass, as we were in a hurry, fearing that due to the drought the Pinega River would become shallow and it would be difficult for us to get to Sura by boat. In one place near the village of Lyablova we had to stop to get firewood. The shore here is high and steep. The peasants, who recognized Father John’s steamer, began to descend towards us along the sloping plane - as they say, “in their own carriage.” They sit on all fours and go down, as if on a sled, from an icy mountain. The venerable priest, a local priest, and his mother came down from the mountain in the same way. They approached the ship and, not seeing Father John on deck, sang “Heavenly King.” Father John came out onto the deck and invited them to board the ship. The flock followed their priest onto the ship. It was impossible to let everyone in, because this would slow down the stacking of firewood, as a result of which the commander of the steamship ordered not to let the rest in. In view of this, many resorted to a trick: they would take two or three logs and take them to the ship, and then straight to Father for blessing... Many books and samples had to be distributed here. The kids also received gifts. Having loaded the firewood, we set off on our further journey and soon passed the monastery of the Kholmogory convent. Several nuns who were on the shore noticed our ship and rushed to the bell tower to ring. But since it was far from the bell tower, while they were running, our steamer had already gone far, and we did not hear the ringing. Finally, at about 9 o’clock in the evening, the village of Ust-Pinega appeared in the distance, approaching it, we turned sharply and entered the Pinega River. In St. Petersburg, before my trip to the North, I heard from many: “And you want to go there; After all, our poor, boring north is nothing interesting.” And here, on Pinega, I became convinced that many do not have definite and correct information about our North. I had to travel only 300 miles from Ust-Pinega to Sura, and this path seemed like some kind of magical panorama. Pinega amazes with the diversity of its shores: in places you see a copy of the shores of the Valaam Islands - steep cliffs descending into the water, from the crevices of which century-old pines rise; in some places the banks resemble the spurs of the Carpathians on the Teterev River in Zhitomir; There are also characteristic Caucasian corners with abysses and cliffs, such as I have seen in the wilds of Dagestan. In one place near the Krasnogorsky monastery I saw an exact copy of Kyiv, in the same form as you see it when you approach from the south along the Dnieper. For many miles there stretches a series of steep chalk mountains, dotted with deep caves, covered with dense forest on top. At night, when everyone was already asleep, I was awakened by noise on the deck. It turned out that we landed on the shore to take firewood. I go out on deck and see that, besides the crew carrying firewood, only Father John is awake. He stands at his cabin, looking up at the sky, and is obviously praying. The wonderful forest aroma is intoxicating. Wanting to take a closer look at the forest, I went ashore and climbed the mountain. A wonderful panorama opened up before me - a boundless sea of ​​forest. The entire horizon is covered with dense untouched forest. I wanted to endlessly admire the wonderful landscape, but then the mosquito force asserted its rights... Billions of bloodthirsty insects rushed at me and forced me to run to the ship. Local peasants who have to work in the forest or near a river wear so-called mosquito nets. This is a kind of bashlyk, made of thick canvas, tightly fitting the entire head and shoulders; only the face remains uncovered, but to protect the face, the edges of the mosquito net are coated with tar. At 9 o'clock in the morning on June 4, we approached the small village of Soila and landed on the shore to celebrate mass. Father John always has a supply of bread and church wine with him, and therefore, no matter how unexpectedly he appears in any parish, there can be no interference with the performance of divine services. The village of Soila has 40 yards, no more; it spreads along the left bank of the Pinega. Thanks to its large huts, spacious courtyards and two churches, stone and wooden, beautifully located above the river itself, this village seems from a distance to be a large village. In the stone church, due to its dilapidation, services are not held, and therefore the old local priest who met us led Father John to the wooden church. This church with a hipped dome, a vestibule adjacent to the church body on three sides, built from thick, mighty logs, already lopsided in places, is very interesting as an example of ancient Russian architecture. In the middle of the church, first of all, you are struck by a huge, almost man-sized, bas-relief, carved from wood and painted image of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, holding a church in his left hand and a sword in his right. The colors have darkened, cracked and fallen off in places, and the stern face of the holy Wonderworker, against a dark background, looks sadly at you with his big eyes. The blackened faces of the saints look just as sadly from the iconostasis. The altar is small and stuffy as the windows never open. Father John loves clean air most of all. Even in winter he sleeps with the window open. Therefore, it was necessary to expose the window frame here before starting the service. While Father John was reading the canon, local peasants began to enter the church in small groups. These are all sedate men with thick beards, intelligent eyes and tightly built figures. The women are dressed in colorful sundresses and quilted sleeveless vests; their heads are very beautifully tied with colored scarves. Having learned about Father's arrival, everyone dressed up before coming to church. The people are beautiful and tall. Local peasants never knew serfdom or slavery, and this was reflected in their character. They all carry themselves with dignity and independence. Leaving the church, I walked along the only street of the village. The huts here are of the same type, two-story. In one half of the second floor there is a barn for sleighs and carts, which are brought here through a special “entrance” built outside the hut. Half of the lower floor is usually reserved for livestock. A few fathoms from the hut there is usually a barn for bread, and, in order to avoid the invasion of mice, called here “gnus”, the barn is built on four pillars shaped like mushrooms. It is very difficult for the “gnat” to get into the grain storage along such pillars. Having chosen a typical hut, near which stood a beautiful young woman in a picturesque costume, I began to make preparations to take a photograph. Seeing that the half-wild beauty was looking at me not only with curiosity, but also with fear, I hastened to explain to her the meaning of my apparatus. “Stay calm, I’ll take you down along with the hut,” I said. Imagine my disappointment when, in response to this, the beauty immediately turned around and with the words: “Oh, I’m afraid!”, rushed into the hut and disappeared. There was nothing to do, I had to remove only the hut and a dog that turned up, very similar to a wolf. There are a lot of such dogs here; they are very beautiful and quite excellent watchmen. Walking along the street along a whole row of huts, from the windows of which several curious eyes looked at me, I met an elderly woman who, handing me a bundle, said: - Listen, you, I don’t know what to call you, here are your eggs! “Yes, honey, I don’t need it,” I object. “Nothing, take it, just don’t point that thing of yours at my hut.” There was nothing to do, I had to refuse the eggs, promise that I would not shoot anything else, and retreat to the ship with the apparatus. Having served mass, during which Father preached a sermon, warmly warning the local peasants against schismatics who were seducing the Orthodox people, Father John went for a quarter of an hour into the new, newly built priest’s house, drank a glass of tea here and then, accompanied by the entire parish, headed to the ship, supported, as usual, by the arms of one of the accompanying people. What patience this man must have! Being always cheerful, strong in spirit, so much so that he is able to impart this strength to very many weak people, he unquestioningly allows himself to be led by the arms on a completely level place, like a relaxed old man, only because he knows that to refuse someone such zeal would mean offending the person. I myself saw and heard how many who escorted Father John in this way to some point, then enthusiastically told their friends: “All the time I held dear Father by the hand and sat him down and kissed him on the shoulder.” So it is here. The sun is burning. It would seem that one could open one’s cassock to the light breeze and walk calmly to the ship... But that was not the case. Dozens of bodies squeezed Father John into a dense mass, and he, swayed by this mass first to the left and then to the right, walks with an uneven gait along the loose sand. Only when the ship had already set sail from the shore did Father, taking off his cassock, walk along the deck with his nervous, energetic gait. City of Pinega. – Alarming rumors about water loss At about 12 o'clock in the afternoon we passed by the beautiful Krasnogorsky monastery, located on the right, high bank of the Pinega. Below, under the mountain, among the dense forest, you can see the white skete church. Of course, we don’t even think about stopping, since there is less and less water in Pinega; Every now and then shallows appear, more and more often the shouts of one of the crew on the bow are heard, measuring the depth of the water. - Five, four, three and a half... Four, five, six - it’s not looming! “Not looming” - this means the stranding is over, you can go at full speed. At about two o'clock in the afternoon we were already approaching the city of Pinega. Just before the city, the river diverges into two branches, and therefore is very shallow in this place. At the very beginning of the city, the chimneys of a huge sawmill of the Volodin merchants appeared. They say that these Volodins have a fortune of about ten million, but they are known throughout the Arkhangelsk province for their stinginess. “And here,” our skipper says to me, “well, why should he, such a millionaire, one might say, dam one branch of the Pinega River!” All the water would go along one channel, and it would be deeper. After all, he would have opened a clear path for his own ships. No! This damned greed has overcome!.. In Pinega I also saw the “millionaire” himself. He came to the ship in high boots with bottles, a gray suit jacket and a cap. And the first thing he told Father John was a message so that the abbess of the Sursky monastery (who wanted to make him some order for the monastery), in the event of an order given by her, would remember that he, Volodin, above all loves accurate payments. Pinega, a small county town on the right bank of the Pinega River, has about a thousand residents of both sexes. The city is still relatively young, and therefore does not represent anything historically interesting. The city is enlivened only by the Nikolskaya and Blagoveshchenskaya fairs, to which merchants from Galich, Kargopol, Arkhangelsk and Kholmogory come and leave the tundra with the products of their crafts: fish, fat, skins, furs and game - Samoyeds and residents of Ust-Tsilma, Izhma, Pustozersk and Mezen. There are only two churches in Pinega, and even those, with their neglected appearance, testify to the complete indifference and negligence of the local moneybags. Meanwhile, Volodin alone, the owner of huge sawmills and a whole flotilla of steamships, by all accounts, has about ten million in capital. We stood near the town of Pinega for only half an hour. It was necessary to take the monastery barge with some cargo in tow. At this time, several people boarded the ship, mostly from the local intelligentsia: a local police officer with his wife and daughter, clergy and merchants. We were told sad news here regarding the state of the water in Pinega. – The water is falling; no rain; It’s unlikely that you’ll get to Sura, the Pinezhans told us. There were many who wanted to go with us to Sura, but due to the fact that every extra pound of weight on the ship made our journey more difficult, we had to refuse everyone. Only two people came with us from Pinega: a local deacon and timber merchant S.K., who came here to meet Father John. Kyrkalov. Severian Kuzmich Kyrkalov calls himself a “peasant”. This is a highly interesting personality. He walks simply, like most wealthy peasants engaged in trade; behaves extremely modestly. Being a deeply religious man and seeing in Father John a great man of prayer and an exemplary shepherd, Severian Kuzmich reveres Father so much that he will never allow himself to wear a hat in his presence. That’s how Kyrkalov’s uncovered head remained in my memory. I saw her in Pinega, and among the shifting sands of Sura, and then on the way back, on the dusty streets of Arkhangelsk. Father didn’t like this, and he repeatedly asked S.K. cover your head. Then Kyrkalov resorted to cunning. “I forgot my hat at home,” he said. In Arkhangelsk, Kyrkalov has huge sawmills and brick factories; another plant is being built somewhere in Siberia. A hundred miles from Sura, downstream, in an area called Shotova Mountain, is his residence, his base of operations, so to speak. Here is his native village, his home and farm. S.K. Kyrkalov donates a lot to the church. In Arkhangelsk, he built at his own expense the farmstead of the Sursky Monastery, in his native village he is building a stone church and is a regular donor to the Ioannovsky Monastery in Sura. Now S.K. met us. Kyrkalov in Pinega so as not to be separated until Arkhangelsk. On the ship he occupied the most modest place, somewhere next to the kitchen on stacked firewood. It would be difficult to imagine this man as a businessman with an annual turnover of several hundred thousand rubles. Around three o'clock in the afternoon we already left Pinega and sailed further upstream, sailing much more quietly, since we were towing a barge. We passed the passages we encountered safely and did not lose hope of getting to Sura by boat. The three nuns on board the ship were most worried. “For mercy,” they cried, “what a holiday for us is the arrival of our dear Father.” We wait for him for a whole year, for his arrival, and then we live for the whole year. But if the ship doesn’t reach Sura, we’ll have to stay on it and won’t see Father in Sura! Our “commander” did not lose hope of getting to Sura. “If it rains in the upper reaches, the water will rise immediately, she, Pinega, is crazy here,” he said. But there was little hope for rain; he was gone for a long time. The hot sun was burning with might and main in the transparent sky. On the high steep banks, a mighty forest dozed off in majestic silence. In one place we saw a religious procession passing through a clearing. The peasants asked the Almighty for rain. “God forbid, if we have to ride horses,” one of Father John’s companions, Baroness Taube, tells me. “There is a mountain here every mile, and such that it’s scary to even look down.” You'll suffer. Baroness T. has been traveling with Father John for many years. I cannot remember without feeling sympathy for this person. Being a woman from an aristocratic circle, the wife of a man and now holding a prominent position in a ministry, the baroness left the world, put on a black scarf and now occupies a small cell in the House of Diligence in Kronstadt, performing the duties of a librarian and in charge of the sale of spiritual books. For sixteen years, she said, she suffered from a debilitating female disease. I visited all foreign resorts in hopes of improving my health, but, alas... it was all in vain. Finally, she decided to turn to Father John, who had just entered into glory. “Father prayed, and the illness vanished as if by hand!” - she told me. “Then I felt that I could no longer remain in the environment around me. I went to Father and asked his advice: what should I do? And he told me: help the poor and thank God. Since then, I left the light and am happy that I can listen to mass and commune with Father almost every day. On the road, the Baroness always occupies the most modest place, does not, like others, interfere with Father John’s eyes, sits somewhere in a remote corner and tries to be unnoticed. In the baroness's cabin there is always a huge supply of all kinds of crosses, icons, spiritual brochures and similar useful things for the people. She purchases all this on her own initiative and at her own expense and distributes it at every opportunity. The baroness also has a lot of sweets - whole boxes of gingerbread and sweets. “I have everything for the kids,” she says, “I really love giving gifts to the kids.” After all, the other boy had never seen a gingerbread since birth. But the baroness herself is a strict faster: she doesn’t eat not only fish, but even butter. It feeds exclusively on cucumbers, potatoes and olives. Unexpected trouble. – Verkolsky Monastery. - Devastated forests. – Beyond Pinega, the banks of the river have become positively charming. Every turn there was a new panorama, and I just didn’t know what to do; Meanwhile, it was necessary to sit in the cabin and work: develop photographs and finish some drawings already begun, and at the same time I did not want to miss anything interesting that was visible from the deck of the ship. However, Father John himself often helped me out in this regard. If you come across some particularly beautiful view, and I’m not on deck, Father sends someone to the cabin to fetch me. Sometimes, looking up from work, you look out the small window of your cabin and don’t believe your eyes. In front of the window, a huge, almost vertical wall descends into the water; its upper part is not visible. But just now there was a low bank and the forest distance was blue on the horizon. In Pinega, both banks are of the same character and equally diverse; This is not what usually happens in rivers flowing from north to south or from south to north, where usually one bank is elevated and the other low. On the night of June 6, we hardly slept at all, it was so difficult to part with the charming nature. I didn’t know what to give preference to: what I saw above the water, or what was reflected in the water, smooth as a mirror. I wanted to throw myself into this alluring water and choke on the enchanting beauty of the northern night. At night, when we were taking firewood from some village, S.K. left us. Kyrkalov. He got into the wagon and rushed to Shotova Mountain to warn his family that Father John would come to them and serve a prayer service. The next day at about 11 o'clock in the morning, when we stopped just a few miles from Shotovaya Mountain to take firewood, S.K. suddenly appeared in the distance. Kyrkalov on a pair of horses, in a light wicker wagon. Severian Kuzmich brought us sad news. “You can’t go any further on the steamer,” he announced, “there’s less than three-quarters of the water; Volodin's steamships did not reach Shotovaya Mountain and returned back. There was a fuss on the ship, since no one expected such a surprise so soon. This unpleasant news took everyone by surprise. I found myself in a most unpleasant situation, since all my things were laid out in the cabin, as if in an apartment. To go further without taking with me all my artistic and photographic supplies would mean stopping my work, and then my trip would be reduced to zero. To top it all off, I had just laid out wet photographic prints in my cabin that needed to be sent to St. Petersburg. There was nothing to do, I had to quickly put the most necessary things in a small basket and ask the nuns remaining on the ship to save the photographs when they dried. While I was packing my things, Father John had already left with Kyrkalov in his wagon. Another wagon soon arrived for me and Hieromonk George, on which the two of us sat down, taking our things with us. We had to drive along a sloping bank under a high cliff. However, very soon we found ourselves on a real road and entered a village located under Shotova Mountain. After driving about twenty yards, we stopped at a huge two-story hut built from massive logs. This was S.K.'s house. Kyrkalova. Instead of a yard in front of Kyrkalov's house, there is something like a small square, onto which the school and other huts face with their facades. Right next to the house there was a well under a canopy with a huge wooden wheel. Arriving at a porch with two entrances, we went up to the second floor along a staircase covered with red cloth and entered spacious rooms furnished in a city style. A fairly large group was already sitting at the dinner table, and Father George and I rushed straight to the hot soup. Fresh salmon soup, pies with fresh salmon, freshly salted salmon, boiled salmon... From that day on, wherever we stopped, there was salmon at the base of the table. Salmon have entered the kingdom. The rest of the dishes were just extras. There is no fresh salmon in St. Petersburg: it’s difficult to get it, so Father Georgy and I had to try it in this form for the first time. I won’t say, however, that fresh salmon is anything piquant. The form in which it is sold here in St. Petersburg is still the best. After dinner and, as usual, drinking tea from his hands to the children, Father John went with S.K. Kyrkalov to inspect the place where the latter decided to build a stone church at his own expense. By this time, the local police officer and several double and triple tarantasses arrived at us, on which our entire caravan was supposed to set off on its further journey. On this day we had to make a 50-verst trek to the Verkolsky Monastery, where overnight accommodation was offered. Since there were ferries on our way, which were very delayed, many of our companions left in advance. Father George and I set off on the troika that had been prepared for us, following Father, who at exactly three o’clock in the afternoon also left on the troika in a comfortable carriage, kindly sent to meet him by the abbot of the Verkolsky monastery. S.K. Kyrkalov took over the duties of a coachman, and therefore did not leave the box of Father John’s carriage all the way. Almost the entire fifty-mile journey from the estate of S.K. From Kyrkalova to the Verkolsky monastery we had to drive through the forest along a heavy sandy road. The latter either approaches the Pinega River, then moves deeper into the forest, bypassing some ravine or too steep mountain. Occasionally we come across a village on our way. We drive along his street, accompanied by the cheerful barking of dogs and the low, slow bows of sedate peasants. When looking at these villages and villages, one cannot help but admire the power and breadth of scope. This power was expressed in the construction of spacious two-story huts, which preserved in their forms the remnants of that beautiful Russian architecture that created the Stroganov Chambers and the Kolomna Palace. What gives the huts a special beauty are the wide, steep and high porches with turned posts and railings, covered with high acute-angled, half-barrel and barrel roofs, cut into scales, and the bright original coloring of the valances, ridges, and platbands. Rural rural churches also serve as monuments of ancient architecture with a typical local touch. In their peaked, tent-covered scaly roofs and enclosed by galleries with patterned carvings, the motif of coniferous and spruce forests is felt. Churches are usually dedicated, according to Novgorod custom, to the Transfiguration of the Lord and generally to the feasts of the Lord, and not to the Mother of God, as was customary in Moscow. Having traveled about six miles from Kyrkalov’s house, we had to stop in one such village, since Father John promised to visit a seriously ill poor woman here. When we stopped, we were surrounded by a crowd of peasants. All kinds of requests rained down on Father John from all sides. I don't know how to explain this. Are the people here poorer, or, due to their distance from the center, except for Father John during his journey, there is no one to turn to, but nowhere during our long journey did they ask for material help as much as here. In the Novgorod province, for example, we did not know how to refuse all kinds of offerings from the peasants. One woman begs to accept a towel from her work, another asks for a dozen eggs, a third asks for a loaf of bread and a cup of strawberries. They refuse the money offered. - This is for him, the red sun; Please ask me not to offend me, the old woman, with your refusal. From your own labors! - she begs. Here, in his homeland, it is completely different. First of all, they ask for money. Since it is inconvenient to ask for a whole herd, the peasants very cleverly take up positions at different points of the road, scattering at a distance of several miles and some distance from each other. Every now and then, having heard our bell, a man or woman comes out of the thicket of the forest onto the road and, having accosted Father John’s carriage, they leave only when they receive what they ask for. As we floated along the river, we saw a mighty, slender forest and admired its freshness. Like a healthy hero stood in front of us in green chain mail. Now, when we had to penetrate into the very depths of this forest and see him before our eyes at close range, we sadly learned that this hero was very ill. Vast areas have been devastated by fires. Instead of a green forest, there are sadly charred black stumps and centuries-old pine trees lying in disarray, stretching out their arms like their hands. These were a kind of giant octopuses that froze in their death throes. The place of the fire ends, and the forest that survived the fire begins. But here the picture is no more cheerful. Giants lie at every step, sometimes with completely fresh branches, with greenery that has not had time to turn yellow. The roots burst out of the ground, taking part of the soil with them, and now stand like shields for their giants. Many trees have already become covered with moss and turned into dust. All this is a windfall, not removed by anyone, despite the fact that the navigable river sometimes flows only a few fathoms away. We couldn’t help but pay attention to the huge trees we often came across, still standing in an upright position, but already half chopped off at their roots and therefore doomed to death. -Who spoils the trees like this? – we asked our driver. “And these are peasants,” he answers us. “He’ll start chopping a log for himself, get halfway through it, and then he’ll see that the core isn’t suitable, he doesn’t like it, so he’ll give it up and go pick something else.” This attitude towards our forest wealth made a depressing impression on me and my dear companion Father George; Therefore, when the next day, at lunch at the abbot of the Verkolsky monastery, I had to meet and get to know the local foresters, the first thing I talked about was the forest. I had to listen to the most contradictory explanations for the sad state of forestry. Some said that the forests are set on fire by the peasants themselves, since the treasury sells them the burned material cheaper. Others argued that this was absurd, since during a fire the peasants are driven to put out the fire, and therefore they must take time off from work, which is unprofitable for them. For some reason, there are no buyers for the beautiful logs dumped by the storm, and the treasury is not interested in their exploitation. In the end, one forester, who had been working here for about 8 years, frankly admitted to me that all these cut down and abandoned trees and, in general, the state of the entire forestry industry at first made a heavy impression on him and surprised him, but now it’s okay, he got used to everything and was convinced that it couldn’t be otherwise. “And you, if you lived here for several years, would also get used to it, there’s too much forest here,” he concluded his speech. Maybe that's true. I leave it to forestry experts to judge... We arrived at the Verkolsky Monastery at about 10 o’clock in the evening, falling behind Father and arriving half an hour later than him, since we had to wait for the return of the ferry on which Father John had crossed Pinega before us. There was a near disaster on this ferry. When Father John and his crew were brought onto the ferry, a crowd, mostly women and children, rushed after him, and the ferry, already sitting almost level with the water, began to sink. Many jumped into the water and waded back to the shore, while others had to be transferred to a boat and brought back in it. When we arrived at the monastery, Father was already walking around the rooms of the abbot’s vast apartment. The first-class Verkolsky monastery attracts attention from afar with its solidity and amenities. Like a small city, it stands on the high bank of the Pinega, surrounded by a beautiful white stone wall with semicircular lattice windows emerging from a gallery running along the entire wall. Both churches, the bell tower and all the monastery buildings are painted white and stand out very beautifully against the dark green background of the dense forest. Since in the morning we had to serve Matins and Mass at the shrine of the righteous Artemy, in whose honor the monastery was founded at the beginning of the 17th century, Father George and I, having said goodbye to Father and paying our respects to the extremely sympathetic and kind elder abbot, went to the monastery hotel and soon fell asleep to the accompaniment of the monastery watchman’s beater. The next day, June 7 at 8 o’clock in the morning, Father already served conciliarly with the local clergy and Father George at the shrine of the righteous Artemy. After the mass, a large crowd of petitioners gathered in the abbot’s apartment, which Father John immediately satisfied. Having had a quick breakfast, we packed up and set off on our further journey. We still had 50 miles to go to Sura, which we did without transfers and without changing horses in four hours. Hegumen Ioannikiy also went with us to Sura. We again had to lag behind Father John a little, since between the Verkolsky monastery and Sura we had to cross rivers on ferries three times. Again we had to drive almost the entire time by road 6, occasionally passing along the middle street of the village we met. In the forest there is still the same sad picture of devastation. Like monks in black hoods, tall charred stumps of dead trees stand against a bright light green background. Here lie fallen giants already covered with soft fluffy reindeer moss. In one place we noticed a huge eight-pointed wooden cross, draped in a veil already half torn by the wind. “This was a bad place here,” our coachman explained to us, “troubles often happened to people: either an animal would eat the cattle, or a goblin would lead them into a quagmire and a person would go astray, but when they put up the cross, now there is nothing, there is nothing more than this.” We also met Samoyeds in the forest 7. A whole cross-eyed family drove past us in a wagon. “Now there are few of them here,” the same coachman explained to us, “but in winter they will be driven across the frozen Pinega by reindeer.” They are passing through to the fair in Pinega and Arkhangelsk. At about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, on the opposite bank of Pinega from us, we finally saw the homeland of Father John - the village of Sura. It’s a very small village, but from a distance it seems to you that you see a small county town. Next to the old wooden church in the name of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, a large new stone church in the name of the same saint, surrounded by a beautiful stone fence with an iron lattice, majestically looks out over the surrounding area. Right next door there are two large stone houses; in one there is a school, in the other - a monastery shop. A little further from behind the church one can see a beautifully-architected chapel built over the grave of Father John’s parent, a priest’s house and a number of large spacious huts. All this is the creation of Father John. “It was a bare place here,” the coachman explained to us, “except for the old church, there was nothing on the bare sand.” And now you can’t even recognize the old church, Father Ivan renovated it, and he built a new one - this is to everyone’s surprise. And indeed, when I later examined the church built by Father John, I was amazed by its splendor. At first we took all these buildings for a monastery, but it turned out that the monastery was not yet visible. The monastery is located on the other side of the village and is closed by peasant buildings from the Pinega side. Having gone down a very steep mountain to the river, we saw on the opposite bank of the Pinega a pier decorated with flags and greenery. Here, an hour before our arrival, all of Sura with the sisters and the abbess of the Ioannovsky Monastery met their wonderful fellow villager. They say it was a wonderfully touching and majestic picture, which Father George and I did not have to see, which we later very much regretted. Having crossed to the opposite shore by ferry, we slowly trudged along the shifting sand on our tired horses. The sun is burning mercilessly. The wheels of our tarantass cut deep into the sand, and the horses stop to catch their breath. Finally we climbed the mountain and, driving past two churches and a school, we found ourselves almost on a straight street, bordered on both sides by rows of large spacious huts. There are boards for pedestrians near the huts, since it is very difficult to walk on the sand, in which your feet get stuck deep. The street was completely empty, since the entire village was in the monastery where Father John was. Finally, the roof of the monastery church with a dome made of galvanized iron appeared, and we, having driven about twenty yards, turned right and drove into the vast monastery courtyard, surrounded by a temporary wooden fence. Having entered the monastery courtyard, we turned sharply to the left and stopped at the porch of the main building, connected to the monastery wooden church. The entire population of Sura was here. Following the nun who showed us the way, Father George and I walked past the entrance to the church, climbed the steep wooden stairs to the second floor and went to the apartment of the abbess of the monastery. Around a large table in a spacious, bright room sat about fifteen people of the most diverse audience. There were nuns, clergy, excise and forest officials with their wives and children, and several peasants. Most drank tea. Father John, in a cassock as white as snow, walked around the rooms, taking turns talking to one or the other. Seeing us with Father George, he turned to us with the usual friendliness and helpfulness: “Here are my dear companions, please, refresh yourself from the road!” Since we had already eaten, Father George sat down on the sofa next to a tall man with a thick light brown beard, a tanned face and calloused hands, obviously a farmer, and I sat between Father George and a pretty, good-natured old woman, dressed the way all peasant women dress here. “This is my sister, and this is my nephew,” Father John told me, pointing to my neighbor and Father George’s neighbor. Father George's neighbor turned out to be my neighbor's own son. In a distant corner of the room sat two more nephews of Father John - the younger children of his sister, also dressed like peasants and behaving extremely modestly. The two older nephews are married and engage in arable farming with their families. Here the selflessness of Father John was clearly evident. Another in his place would have made all his relatives rich, giving them the opportunity to live easily and richly. But for Father John, all people are equally close, and he does not give advantage to his relatives, whom he helps, but no more than to everyone else. And his relatives do not complain, because for a long time they have been accustomed to look at him as a special person, not of this world. Here I learned that even as a child, the son of psalm-reader Ilya Sergiev, little thoughtful Ivanushka, enjoyed special respect among his fellow villagers. If the man's horse goes missing, they go to ask Ivanushka to pray; if some kind of grief happens, or someone gets sick, they go to Ivanushka again. But the wondrous boy grew up, and his glory, like the sun, shone over Orthodox Russia. And in the wild, harsh desert, among the dense forests near the shifting sands, where once, except for a dozen huts and a dilapidated wooden poor church, there was nothing, the walls of the majestic stone church began to turn white, golden crosses shone over the young monastery growing by leaps and bounds. All literate Russia still knew in the north the homeland of the great Russian scientist Lomonosov. Now all Orthodox Russia will also know Sura - the homeland of its venerable shepherd. Just four years ago, Father John laid the foundation for the Sura monastery. And now there are already 120 sisters in Sura, most of whom came here, to the harsh wilderness, from the farthest ends of Russia. Only the smallest percentage of nuns are natives of the Arkhangelsk province. Young nuns did not gather here for an easy life and not for a well-appointed monastery. It is difficult to create a good farm in a short time on loose sand. There is no garden, no vegetable gardens, no cultivated fields here yet. Everything will have to be created with hard work under the most difficult conditions, since the northern summer is short. Three months will pass, during which the sun almost never leaves the horizon, and a cold, stormy autumn will begin. At the beginning of October, almost everything here is already covered with snow. The sun first appears for only a few hours, and then almost disappears completely. A long, harsh winter is coming. Mail arrives here only once a week. Communication with distant Russia is only by horse and reindeer. For almost nine months, all of nature is immersed in a deep sleep. A deep silence reigns, broken only by the ringing of the bell calling the sisters to the monastery church, and the howling of the wind and the groan of the blizzard, merging with the hungry howl of wild animals. It was to this monastery that young girls gathered, consciously ready at the same time for any kind of self-sacrifice. I have seen a lot of male and female monasteries in Rus', but I have never seen anything like this before. Not a monastery, but some kind of institute. No matter what the nun, she is a seventeen or eighteen year old child. The oldest of them, excluding, of course, the abbess, is about thirty years old. So what? According to the priest and mother abbess, all the sisters fulfill their duties with remarkable zeal. Each one uncomplainingly bears her obedience, no matter how difficult it may be. So strong is the spirit imparted to them in ardent sermons by their spiritual father and patron, Father John. Among the novices of the Sursky Monastery there are a lot of Kronstadt and Peterhof natives who decided to come here solely out of a feeling of deep reverence for Father John. One can therefore imagine what a holiday the arrival of Father John in Sura represents for the sisters of the monastery! During Father John's stay in Sura, many sisters were spared more difficult obedience. Thus, day laborers were hired at the monastery sawmill and brick factories, where the sisters usually work, to give the nuns the opportunity to see Father, confess and receive communion from him. On the day of our arrival, Father John served Vespers here. The next morning, a big event awaited the entire monastery: general confession and communion with Father John. After serving Vespers, Father John stayed overnight in the building adjacent to the monastery church. In the same building, only on the floor below, his companions were also accommodated: Father George, abbot of the Verkolsky monastery, Father Ioannikiy with his cellarer, and the Pinega deacon. An exception was made for me due to the fact that I needed to work and the neighbors might interfere. Therefore, I was offered a separate room in the new, newly built house of the monastery priest, where I went after Vespers together with its owner, Father George Makkaveev. We walked through the front garden to a small gate made in the wooden temporary fence surrounding the vast monastery courtyard, and emerged onto a sandy square. At the opposite end of the square I saw the beautiful two-story house of Father George with balconies. From the house itself to the monastery gate there are footbridges, just like throughout the village, along its huts. If there were no walkways here, walking on the loose sand, in which your foot would sink, would be extremely difficult. Entering the house of Father George, I was amazed by its improvement. Fine furniture, huge mirrors, beautiful, tastefully selected wallpaper would do honor to any landowner's home. When I asked if there was a closet somewhere where I could develop the records, Father George led me into a dark room specially designed for photography with running water and all the amenities necessary for developing. The priest of the Maccabees, as they say, is a jack of all trades, and therefore brought a lot of benefit already during the creation of the new monastery. On his initiative and under his direct supervision, a brick and sawmill were built in Sur; according to his own thoughts, a monastery was built 18 versts from Sura in a grove granted to the monastery by the Emperor. Father George himself draws the plans for the buildings and supervises the progress of the work. Father George built a house for himself, also according to his own plan. I was given a very comfortable room with a balcony on the second floor. The entire monastery courtyard with all the buildings is visible from here at a glance. Between the monastery fence and the house of Father George, a stone foundation has already been laid for the wall, which next year will surround the young monastery on all sides. The next day, in the morning, Father John solemnly, in front of a crowded church, served mass, during which, turning to the young nuns, he delivered a deeply felt sermon on how nuns who dedicated themselves to God should live. Knowing the human soul well, Father in his sermon touched on those issues that represent the most painful areas in the lives of nuns. Towards the end of the sermon, suppressed sobs began to be heard in the church, which then turned into continuous loud sobs. When, having finished the sermon, Father John said: “Repent!” – in the church everything merged into one common roar. Ceremoniously, with reverence, the nuns began to approach Communion one after another. Father John himself gave communion to everyone who was in the church. When the service ended and people began to leave the church, I suddenly heard some noise, in which it was not difficult to distinguish the voice of Father John. During my entire journey, I never saw Father John become irritated with anyone or raise his voice, and therefore, extremely surprised, I hurried with the others to church. When I entered, Father was no longer there - he left through the altar. - What's happened? - everyone asked. “There’s only one crazy person here,” the nun explained to us, “he’s chasing Father everywhere and assuring everyone that Father John is none other than Christ himself, who appeared on earth.” For Father, this is a real grief. The madman was taken out of the church, but this, of course, will not help the matter. He will go to another place and repeat his absurdity among the people. Such faces are a heavy cross for Father John; with their wild antics they bring true grief to Father. After having lunch with the abbess of the monastery, Father John went with her to the monastery, recently built in a centuries-old ship forest. Wanting to get acquainted with Sura, I, taking with me a photographic camera and an album, went first of all to the house of Father John. The house, or rather the hut, in which Father John was born, previously stood at a completely different end of the village and has now been moved here next to the monastery by admirers of Father John and covered, like the house of Peter the Great in St. Petersburg, with a cover. The hut, like all the huts here, is made of thick logs. Light enters the two surviving rooms through small windows with cloudy green glass. The first, larger room is almost entirely covered with images and pictures of spiritual content. A portrait of Father John also hangs here. In the corner in front of the images there is a simple table covered with a tablecloth, on which there is a bowl of water and candles prepared for the prayer service. In the second room, of the things contemporary with Father John that were in his parents' possession, only a stone millstone in a wooden box survived. That's all the simple decor of Father John's hut. Having traveled 36 miles on horseback to the Grove and back, Father John returned remarkably cheerful and joyful. Father was very pleased with the condition of the recently rebuilt and decorated skete church in the name of the Holy Trinity. Everyone was simply amazed at the energy of this wonderful man. To get up before everyone else, serve Matins and Mass and, without resting, travel 36 miles along a difficult road in terrible heat and not get tired, at 74 years old, as you wish, but this is not an entirely ordinary thing. Throughout our journey, we more than once had to meet Father John’s peers, his classmates at the seminary. But what kind of decrepit old people are all these compared to him: he seems like a young man if you see his schoolmate. Having returned from the Grove and having drunk tea, Father immediately went to inspect the newly built house of the priest Father George. From the window of the owner of the house, located on the second floor, Father John could see in full view his entire Sura, in the foreground of which stretched a wide monastery courtyard with all its buildings, some already completely finished, and some not yet finished and covered with scaffolding. To the left of the monastery stood a churchyard with its ancient wooden church, bordered on three sides by thin pine trees. Behind the pine forest flows the small river Sura, which flows into Pinega. On the banks of the Sura there are monastery factories - a sawmill and a brick factory. To the right of the monastery you can see the entire village of Sura, at the end of which there are white stone houses - a school and a shop and a beautiful stone church in the name of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. For a long time, the priest could not tear himself away from the sight of Sura, dear to his heart, so transformed thanks to his labors, and finally, turning to the priest Father George and his wife, he said: “You know what, I’ll stay here with you, in this little room, to spend the night.” Of course, the owners were incredibly happy about this and began to fuss, wanting to make the bed more comfortable. From the windows of the monastery, the nuns saw how Father stood for a long time before going to bed at the open window in a white cassock and looked at everything he had created, and before retiring, he blessed the young monastery. The next morning, June 9, Father John celebrated mass in the Cathedral of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. The beautiful church, shining with the gilding of an expensive iconostasis, was crowded with worshipers. In addition to the peasants, all the sisters of the Sursky monastery gathered here, who did not want to miss a single service of their adored benefactor and patron. After mass, everyone went to the chapel over the grave of Father Father, where the latter served a requiem mass. After this, until almost three o'clock in the afternoon, the tireless Father John made visits to Sura: he visited all the priests in their apartments, visited his sister, went to the monastery shop, where he blessed the sister-clerks, and stopped at the school, where one of the students read him a poem. When Father left school, the children poured out into the street to see him off. There are about forty students in total; Everyone is dressed like an institute: in dark brown dresses and white capes. After having lunch at the house of Father George, Father decided to inspect the monastery factories, since the next day in the evening the departure from Sura was scheduled, before which there was still a trip to the skete Roshcha, and, therefore, there was very little time left. Having passed by the graveyard, consisting of two cemeteries - schismatic and Orthodox - we entered a courtyard cluttered with boards, at the end of which there are factories on the very bank of the Sura. Here, just like in the monastery itself, everything is still in its infancy, not completed or finished, although the plant is working with all its might. A steam engine puffs, saws on several machines screech, sawing logs, drive belts rush through the air from shaft to shaft. Father examined each department in detail. The explanation was given by the priest Father George. Father John waited patiently until the long log that he had inserted into the machine came out on the other side in the form of inch-long planks. Then everyone went downstairs, where the resulting board was inserted into a planer, which gave it the shape of a long cornice. Then the drive belts were moved to another shaft, and a steel saw wheel spun in front of us with terrible speed. The same board was now placed under the saw and in just two or three minutes it turned into several small individual pieces, which were immediately distributed to everyone present as souvenirs. From the sawmill department we went to the brick department, where before our eyes, bricks of very regular shape were very quickly made from shapeless pieces of clay, using a steam engine. Right next door, the same steam engine sets in motion a flour millstone. Thanks to the factories established here, local peasants received a new source of income and income. Having finished inspecting the factories, Father John thanked the workers for their efforts and returned to Father George’s house. The next day at 6 o'clock in the morning, Father John wished to serve matins and mass in the monastery church in the name of the Holy Trinity, which is located in the so-called Grove. In view of this, he decided to get up in the morning at four o’clock in order to travel in the cold while there were no gadflies, and he suggested that the nuns who wanted to attend the service make the journey on foot in the evening. Of course, the only sisters who did not go to the monastery were those who could not leave for some particularly important reasons. Most of the nuns, having taken off their shoes, immediately set off on the eighteen-mile journey. Some of our companions also left in the evening: Hieromonk Father George and S.K. Kyrkalov, Abbot Ioannikiy with the priest Father George, and others. The police officer promised to pick me up in the morning to go to the monastery at the same time as Father John. Unfortunately, he cruelly let me down and deprived me of the opportunity to visit the Grove. At 4 o'clock in the morning on June 10, Father John was already on his feet. When I left my room, Father was already driving out of the gate onto the road. The well-fed monastery horses picked up Father John’s light carriage and almost galloped along the forest road. In Sura, everyone tried to persuade Father John to stay a few more days. “Look at the clouds on the horizon,” the Suryans said, “and just like that, the water will rise and your steamer will come right here.” But Father John was not created for an idle life. Sitting around doing nothing is the most tiring thing for him. But in Sura everything had already been done, and besides that, they were eagerly awaiting his arrival on the Volga. Before the Volga, we still had to visit Arkhangelsk, Kholmogory and Vologda. Therefore, Father was in a hurry, and our departure was finally decided. Father John returned from Roshcha at about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and lay down to rest a little after the tiring journey. Soon the rest of the pilgrims arrived. Later than everyone else, the sisters of the monastery returned, having gone to the Grove on foot. The latter were caught in the rain on the road, and they returned completely wet. Having rested for no more than an hour, Father went out to the farewell dinner table, around which all his close relatives, acquaintances and collaborators in the creation of the monastery had already gathered. The Suryans caught every word of Father and did not take their eyes off him, wanting to see enough of him before saying goodbye. Father John spoke in turn with one and then with the other, giving each the necessary instructions regarding his specialty. “While I am alive, I will not leave you in my care,” Father John said at parting to the sisters of his monastery, “but when I die, then the Lord God will not leave you.” Be only pious and worthy sisters of your monastery. Return trip to Arkhangelsk. – Twelve miles – twelve mountains After lunch, Father George and I asked Father John for his blessing to leave earlier, since we had to make the fifty-mile journey to the Verkolsky Monastery with just a couple of unimportant horses without a harness. Having said goodbye to everyone, we set off on the road. No one also knew for sure where our ship was. It could have happened that, fearing to “get dry,” as they say here, he went down many miles lower, and then we would have had too long of a boat trip ahead of us. In view of such considerations, it was decided to ride to Shotovaya Mountain on horseback. Many of our companions left the day before us, fearing that there might not be enough horses for everyone on the road. Father George and I decided not to be separated and to follow together everywhere, since both he and I equally needed to be always as close as possible to Father John. We left Sura only an hour earlier than Father, in the belief that, having bad horses and waiting for the return of the ferries that would transport Father John, we would have been late and would have arrived at the Verkolsky Monastery much later than Father if we had left at the same time as him. On this day the weather was perfectly favorable to us. There was a light rain, which swept away the dust, the heat subsided, and the gadflies, hiding under the leaves of the trees, did not bother the horses. Having crossed by ferry to the opposite bank of Pinega and climbed the steep hill, we took our last look at Sura. The streets of the village, as on the day of our arrival, were completely empty: the entire population was in the monastery fence, this time awaiting the departure of Father. I sincerely regretted that our stay in this interesting place was so short. Having sent our last greetings to the homeland of Father John, we sat down as comfortably as possible and trotted lightly along the sandy road, constantly tossed up by the thick roots of trees that came across the road. We drove about a mile after a steep descent and suddenly heard the clatter of a horse behind us. Looking out of our wagon, we saw Father John's troika dashingly rushing after us. Father himself, noticing us, began to wave his old favorite straw hat to us from afar. Like a young man, he rushed past us, nodding affectionately and smiling at us with his kind, charming smile. “What kind of grace has been given to man,” says our coachman, “he will only look at you and give you a ruble gift.” And indeed, we all felt somehow immediately cheerful, cozy, and warm. Children are not the only ones who need affection! Adults also need it, but not everyone will be able to caress and comfort an adult. Just before the monastery, our exhausted horses could hardly drag their feet. Traveling fifty miles without a break is not an easy thing. Finally, at about 11 o’clock in the evening, we drove into the fence of the monastery hotel and went into the monastery to see Father, who was still staying with Abbot Ioannikis, before going to bed. Here at the abbot’s we found some of Father John’s companions who had left Sura before us, and among them S.K. Kyrkalova. We had to hear unpleasant news regarding our steamer: it went down beyond Shotova Gora even further downstream. So, instead of the fifty miles ahead to Shotovaya Mountain, we now had to travel much further to our ship. This was all the more sad because behind Shotovaya Mountain the most desperate mountainous road began. S.K. Kyrkalov offered to go to his place in Shotova Gora before us and prepare a barge there, on which we could all go down to the steamer along the river. Father approved this idea and blessed S.K. Kyrkalov on the road, who immediately got ready and left. At the same time, the rest of our companions left for fear of being left behind in the morning. Father George and I, having wished Father good night, went to the hotel for the night. In the morning, Father John served matins and mass together with the hieromonk of the Verkolsky monastery and Father George and, having dined with the abbot, at about 12 o'clock in the afternoon he received a whole group of petitioners for the last time and went out onto the porch of the abbot's house, where three well-fed monastic horses were waiting for him. When Father John got into the carriage, the coachman-monk started the horses, but for some reason the strong, handsome horseman became stubborn and did not want to move. All the efforts of the monks, who took the stubborn horse by the bridle, and the coachman’s whip could not help the matter. The horse with wide-protruding nostrils snorted, shifted from foot to foot, and did not want to move forward at any cost. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Father John got out of the carriage, walked up to the stubborn horse and, tugging at the bangs, shouted something to it. After this, the horse immediately calmed down and the carriage of Father John and Father quietly set off through the monastery courtyard, accompanied by the well-wishes of those seeing them off. By 7 o’clock in the evening we had already safely arrived at Shotova Gora, having again covered 50 versts without re-harnessing, and arrived at S.K.’s house. Kyrkalova. Here again disappointing news awaited us. The steamer descended 80 miles below Shotovaya Mountain, and the barge on which it was supposed to sail turned out to be unsuitable for this purpose. Willy-nilly, the next day we had to jolt again in the tarantass, and at the same time along a much worse road than we had traveled so far. Father John spent the night in Kyrkalov’s house. On the morning of June 12, I woke up to the sound of bells, notifying the surrounding peasants about the imminent arrival of Father John at the Shotova Gora church. Father George had been on his feet for a long time and, standing in the corner in front of the icon case, performed his morning rule. Looking out the window, I saw S.K. at the porch of the house. Kyrkalov's gray horse harnessed to a small sleigh decorated with carpets. – What does this dream mean: in the summer and suddenly a sleigh?! – I was surprised. It turned out that in the Arkhangelsk province it is not unusual to meet someone on a sleigh in the summer. There are places where it is much easier to drive through soft and slippery moss on a sled than on wheels that dig deep into the loose soil. For Father, of course, the sleigh was prepared more to show honor. In the old days in Rus', bishops were transported like this. Soon Father himself appeared, cheerful, joyful and friendly to everyone. He got into the sleigh and, accompanied by a dense crowd, rode across the field to the church, where a huge crowd of people had already gathered. After serving mass, Father John returned to S.K. Kyrkalova, where tea and lunch were prepared for us. An hour before the end of the service in the church, a paralyzed peasant was brought to Kyrkalov’s yard on a cart. From a distance, Father John saw the sick man and immediately approached him and began to ask how long he had been ill and what caused the illness. Then, placing his hands on his head, he said a prayer and calmed the patient, giving him hope for recovery. After lunch at S.K. Kyrkalov, we immediately decided to go on a further journey in pursuit of our ship. This was the most difficult journey on horseback, and therefore Father George and I again left an hour earlier than Father John, fearing that oncoming ferries would separate us. Just before leaving, our young coachman turned to me with a request to remove his young woman. Even earlier, I noticed a very beautiful young woman with a purely Russian type, walking around the yard in her colorful outfit, but, having already failed once in the village of Soyle, where I wanted to photograph the same young woman, I did not try to ask her to act. I immediately complied with the coachman’s request and removed his wife, placing her at the well. “This is my daughter,” the same old woman who took us to school for the night came up to me. “Your daughter is beautiful,” I couldn’t resist complimenting her. “I have four such and such,” said the flattered old woman, not without boasting, “and all of them are better than the other, and all of them are married.” - Well, goodbye, happy old woman, goodbye, beauty. I’ll send you cards from St. Petersburg,” I shouted from the mother and daughter’s tent. The driver set off the fresh horses, and we rode beyond the outskirts. The words of Baroness Taube that there are twelve miles and twelve mountains here were fully justified. Every minute we have to go down to the very bottom of the ravine and, crossing the openwork bridge over the stream, which at the first good rain turns into a stormy stream, climb back up the mountain. We go down the mountain, braking the rear wheel, and when going up the mountain, we often ourselves help the horses drag our wagon. “This mountain is called Bishop,” the driver pointed out to us the steepest rise as we approached it. - Why was she called that? – I asked. “But because horses couldn’t even drag the bishop here; He had to stand up on his own feet. But now we had passed twelve mountains, and we began to descend to the river. “Now, on the other side, the road will be easier, smoother,” the coachman consoled us. Indeed, having crossed by ferry to the opposite, also mountainous shore, we rode more calmly. At the very top of the mountain, descending to Pinega and covering the village, we saw the upper part of the bell tower and on it several people were waiting for Father John to pass, so that when he appeared, they could ring the bells. At about ten o'clock in the evening we finally heard the clatter of horses behind us and Father overtook us again. Like the others, he cheerfully nodded his head to us, shouted something and rushed past like a whirlwind, waving his hat at us. “Well, coachman, now don’t yawn, but blow as hard as you can,” we turned to our driver. But the horses turned out to be weak, and we very soon lost sight of Father John’s crew. S.K. helped us out. Kyrkalov, who caught up with us on fresh horses. We quickly transferred our things into his tarantass and rushed off again, sitting in an inclined position and holding our stomachs so that the shocks would not be so sensitive. Following us was another troika, on which were riding a woman and a girl of about twelve. It turned out that these were two sick people who were late in Shotova Gora for the departure of Father John and were now catching up with him to share their grief and receive a blessing. We crossed one small river by ferry, forded another, and finally, at about 11 o’clock in the evening, we saw our desired steamer from the mountain far below, near the sandy shore. Father John was already on the ship, which with the divorced couples was only waiting for the order to set sail. With great difficulty we descended the cliff along the loose sand and, paving a new road, somehow made it to the steamer. It turned out that during our stay in Sura, the steamship “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker suffered a minor accident: going downstream, he ran aground at full speed and could only move with great difficulty. As soon as Father John released the sick woman and the girl, the ship set sail from the shore and went downstream. At about 4 o'clock in the morning on June 13, we already approached the city of Pinega, where we stopped to serve mass. After serving mass, Father John said goodbye to the local deacon, who traveled with us to Sura, and immediately ordered to sail on. At about one o'clock in the afternoon we passed by the Krasnogorsk Monastery. Our helmsman now had to keep a keen eye on the fairway. The whole team was on alert all the time. A man with a measuring pole almost never left the bow. Twice we hit the bottom of the river, but in the end we safely passed all the dangerous rapids. In one place, a sad picture appeared before our eyes: a steamer with passengers coming towards us stopped at a deserted shore, unable to continue its journey along the shallow river, and the passengers wandered along the shore with luggage in their hands. At 9 o'clock in the evening we finally approached Ust-Pinega and saw the wide, watery Northern Dvina in the distance. Everyone breathed more freely. The shallows ended and we felt free. Our path now lay directly north to Arkhangelsk, where, according to calculations, we should have arrived at about 4 o’clock in the morning. Not wanting to raise an alarm in the city at night, Father John ordered to stop about five miles from the city, and to approach the city no earlier than 8 o’clock in the morning. A small accident on a ship. – Stay in Arkhangelsk In the morning, through my sleep, I heard the steamer moor to the shore, and then there was some commotion in the engine room next to my cabin. They were talking about something, arguing. It turned out that some pipe in the car had burst, and therefore it was impossible to get to Arkhangelsk, which was already visible at a distance of 3-4 miles from us, on our ship without a thorough repair. S.K. came to our rescue. Kyrkalov, who offered to call the Volodin steamship from Arkhangelsk by phone, which would take us to Arkhangelsk, and our ship would be towed to the sawmill, where there were craftsmen who could fix the car. Thanks to the kindness of S.K. Kyrkalov, who went to the nearest sawmill and called the Volodin steamer from there by telephone, we did not have to sit in one place for long. Soon the white hull of a large, beautiful steamer appeared in the distance, quickly approaching our accident-ridden “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker." The captain of the Volodino steamship told us that in Arkhangelsk yesterday, June 13, they waited all day for the arrival of Father John, and many, thinking that Father might arrive at night, stood watch on the banks of the Dvina until the morning. As soon as we boarded the arriving ship, the captain gave the order to set sail, and we moved towards Arkhangelsk, glittering in the distance with the domes of its churches. There were about five miles left to the city center, but despite this, towing steamers scurried about on the surface of the river every now and then, maneuvering between huge sailing and steam ships at anchor, loaded mainly with timber and flour; Dozens of boats plied the water, crowded with workers from rafts and barges. All this life, on the eve of Arkhangelsk, is concentrated mainly around a number of sawmills scattered along the river bank. The closer you get to the city, the busier the river becomes and the more intense the activity of its inhabitants. A mass of huge foreign ships of all nationalities stands majestically in the middle of the river, surrounded on all sides by barges of various sizes, onto which goods are being loaded with noise and noise. In St. Petersburg, along the Neva, such a revival is not visible, since all port life is concentrated here outside the city. In Arkhangelsk, thanks to the width and depth of the Northern Dvina, the largest foreign ships can pass much higher than the city. But from behind the barges and a whole flotilla of sea vessels, the white walls of the most ancient monastery in the entire North appeared, and behind it, stretched out in one long line along the river bank, Arkhangelsk. Father John, who had been standing all the time on the bow of the steamer and not taking his admiring gaze off the approaching city, at the sight of the monastery with which we passed, bared his head and made the sign of the cross. “This is where my teenage years passed,” he turned to me, pointing to the garden and the seminary building, which appeared not far from the Archangel Monastery. Father looked lovingly at every building in the city and gave me detailed explanations. “This monastery in the name of Archangel Michael was built 400 years before the founding of the city,” he said. “It now houses the Church Archaeological Society.” And over there is a wooden house - this is the diocesan girls' school, behind it you can see a large stone house - this is the house of the bishop. Now look further, this is our Sursky farmstead. On the river embankment itself I saw a newly rebuilt two-story wooden building with a chapel. Opposite this house we landed at one of the piers, cluttered with bags of bread. From the pier, Father John first of all went on a visit to the bishop, from whom he was immediately received. Vladyka invited Father the next morning to participate in concelebration with him in his home Church of the Cross, promising to send his carriage for Father John. From the bishop, Father John went to the neighboring Church of the Annunciation, built by residents of Kholmogory and Veliky Ustyug. There he served mass. At this time, in the courtyard of the Sursky Ioannovsky Monastery, a crowd of people had gathered and a few sisters, the inhabitants of the courtyard, were anxiously awaiting the arrival of Father John. The fact is that we brought with us a nun from Sura, who was supposed to replace the “elder” sister of the metochion, who was dying. On this occasion, they were eagerly waiting for Father in the courtyard, who promised to arrive from the church with the Holy Gifts and give communion to the dying woman. I saw this nun who was led into Father John's room when he finally arrived from church. She hung in the arms of the sisters who supported her, barely moving her legs, exhausted, powerless, with sunken, dull eyes, and a face as yellow as wax. It seemed that she would not reach the end of the room and would die immediately. But then she was led into Father John’s room and the door was immediately closed behind her. Father began holy confession. At this time, all the stairs and passages between them were crowded with people. There was no one here! And an official without a position with a petition in his hands, and students, and merchants, and some girl with an atrophied hand, and a host of other sick and suffering people. The police bailiff fussed with all his might to establish at least some order to prevent a stampede. But then the door opened, and a nun who had already received communion appeared. She was still supported by the arms, but she walked much more cheerfully, with visible spiritual uplift. In the evening of the same day, when Father John, having made visits to the governor and several other persons, again stopped by the courtyard and, together with others, sat down at the common tea table, I, turning back, to my great surprise, saw the sick nun sitting without any outside help on a chair behind Father John. Even a blush began to appear on her cheeks. She looked cheerfully at those around her and eagerly listened to every word Father said. I pointed it out to Father John. He quickly turned around, nodded his head at her and said: – Thank God, thank God, no one like God. On the third day of our stay in Arkhangelsk, I was even more amazed to see the same nun, completely healthy and thriving, appearing for mass in the huge Holy Trinity Cathedral, crowded with worshipers, where Father John served. She stood among the crowd without any outside help and prayed fervently. On the day of our arrival, Father John served Vespers in the Arkhangelsk Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, built on the site, according to legend, indicated by Peter the Great himself. This is a beautiful, majestic church, striking with the consistency and severity of the lines of its huge, several-tiered golden iconostasis. A wide staircase leads to the upper floor of the cathedral, on which are placed three cannons, granted by Peter I in 1701 to Archbishop Athanasius from a Swedish frigate and yacht taken that year near Arkhangelsk. At the wall to the right of the entrance, under a gilded canopy, supported by three columns and two human-sized angels carved from wood, there is a six-foot pine cross, made with Peter the Great’s own hand in memory of the deliverance from the storm in the Horns of Una and transferred here from the Pertominsky Monastery with the permission of Emperor Alexander I. On the cross, Peter carved the Dutch inscription: Dat Kruus maken Kartein Piter van a. Chr. 1691. The history of the construction of the cross and its transfer to Arkhangelsk is depicted on shields supported by angels. Near the cross is a standard and a Palestinian flag from the plane on which Peter I sailed from Vologda to Arkhangelsk. After Vespers in the cathedral, Father John went on a visit to the rector of the seminary, who lives in the building in which Father himself once studied. In the corridor of the seminary we met one of her students who had not gone on vacation, who, seeing Father John, rushed to the rector to inform him about the unexpected arrival of the guest of honor. Having made a visit to the rector, during which the latter gave Father John a report on the activities of those educational institutions that use his financial assistance, Father, accompanied by the rector and his family, went to the seminary garden, to the same garden where many years ago, as a young man, he sat with books, preparing for exams. Then the trees in the garden were young, but now the garden has grown into a huge shady park. It is not difficult to imagine the joyful feeling with which Father John, a passionate lover of nature, looked at every corner of the garden, which spoke to him of his long-gone seminary years. Having walked to the deepest end of the garden, Father John suddenly stopped in front of a tall, slender and strong tree, the branches of which had grown widely and hung over the path and neighboring bushes. Father John took off his hat and, as if greeting an old comrade, touched the tree with his hands. “Here is my peer,” he said, turning to us. – This was my favorite place in the garden. Under this tree I most often spent my leisure time and read books. While we were walking around the garden, a crowd began to gather in the latter, which gradually surrounded Father John and made further walking almost impossible. I had to say goodbye to the rector and his family and head for the exit. From the seminary we went to the diocesan women's school, which also enjoys the care of Father John. Here Father visited a seriously ill pupil and, after drinking a glass of tea from the boss, went to the house of the local merchants Selyaninov, where a room had been prepared for him. Father John had stayed at the Selyaninovs’ house before. This is a beautifully furnished two-story stone mansion, facing Trinity Avenue opposite the governor's house. The extremely pleasant lady of the house gave us the most cordial welcome. On the morning of the next day, several people from the gentlemen’s acquaintances gathered in the hall adjacent to Father John’s room, waiting for him to leave before leaving for the Church of the Cross. The Selyaninovs, who wanted to receive a blessing from Father. By the way, they also let some strange old woman through from the street. “Oh, thank them,” she wailed, “they missed it!” “I, father, came here from Yekaterinodar, deliberately just to get to him,” she turned to me. “You see this hand,” she extended her right hand to me, moving her fingers, “after all, it was dangling three years ago from paralysis, and he, merciful, cured it with his prayer.” I then went to Kronstadt to see him and now I’ve been healthy for three years, and I’m still working! But now my son, a carpenter, has taken up an unlucky business: he has become a binge drinker. I thought and thought... I saved up a penny and came to Father again. Eh, if only they would let him see him. Soon Father came out, and the old woman was one of the first to approach him. Having heard her request, Father John walked with her to the corner with the icons and, kneeling down, prayed. Having finished the prayer, he turned to the other petitioners, listening to each one individually. The old woman came up to me beaming. - Everything turned out so happily! It was not for nothing that she came, she said, without taking her eyes off Father John, who stood at the end of the room, talking with some old man. “And you know what,” she turned again in my direction, “after all, such an opportunity will not come soon again - should I ask him at the same time to pray for my nephew: he sometimes has a headache, so that he never gets sick?” I advised her not to bother Father with trifles anymore. This incident reminded me of an episode from the life of the late Metropolitan of Kiev Platon. The same old woman, during some big holiday in the Kyiv Lavra, after much effort, made her way in the crowd to the bishop’s hand and kissed it, shouted to her fellow countrywoman, who was standing at the other end of the church: “Akulina, make your way here; I won’t let you out until you come!” And indeed, she did not let go of the Metropolitan’s hand until her fellow countrywoman came up and kissed her. But then the bishop’s carriage arrived, and Father John went to serve in the Church of the Cross. Vladyka provided Father John with his carriage for the whole day, so Father did not suffer as much from the terrible Arkhangelsk dust that day as on the previous day. Going to Arkhangelsk, Father John did not expect to stay there for more than two days. But here such a mass of all kinds of requests and invitations awaited him that Father decided to stay one more day, promising to celebrate mass in the cathedral on the day of departure. From the Church of the Cross, Father John again drove to his courtyard, where he had to sort through a whole heap of letters and telegrams received from all over Russia. Before the evening we made a very interesting trip to the S.K. plant. Kyrkalova to the so-called Maimaksa. Father John and Hieromonk George rode in the bishop's carriage, and I, with the local bailiff and S.K. Kyrkalov fit into the latter’s comfortable carriage. In bailiff Andrei Ivanovich Ivanov, I met a very interesting interlocutor. He was recently transferred to Arkhangelsk from Moscow, but despite this, he knows very well not only the city, but also all its surroundings, and is also well acquainted with the life of local port workers and their attitude towards foreigners. According to him, foreign Germans treat Russians in general, and Russian workers in particular, the worst. The descendants of large trading firms living in the German settlement, constituting the monetary aristocracy of the foreign population of Arkhangelsk, keep themselves withdrawn and are alien to Russian society. For some reason, the German sailors arriving on German ships behave especially defiantly towards the Russian port workers. There are clashes here among our workers with both the British and the French, but this always has a different character. “They’ll get drunk, our people and the British or French will fight among themselves over trifles, and then at the police station they’ll make up and extend their hand to each other,” A.I. told me. Ivanov. – With the Germans, things are always different. Even in a sober state, for some reason they try to show their advantage and arrogance over the Russians. Yes, we recently had a typical case. Russian workers buy eggs at the market; They’ve already bargained for the entire balance at three kopecks per ten and are getting the money. Suddenly the Germans standing nearby give the merchant six kopecks per ten and announce that they are taking the eggs. Ours, of course, are offended. They say they bargained before, and therefore the eggs are ours. “Malshi, Russian pig,” says the German and shows a knife. Ours - in the teeth, and the German with a knife. And the dump began. A dangerously wounded, bloodied man is brought to the station. And all because the German gentlemen imagined that the universe existed exclusively for them, and the Russian men did not deserve better treatment. Of course, this is not about those Germans who have long gotten used to Russian society, made friends with it and even say to themselves that they are “bloody Russians.” Having left the courtyard of the Sursky Monastery, we drove along the main and almost the only street running parallel to the Northern Dvina - Trinity Avenue. Having driven past the cathedral and the governor's house, we went around the Lomonosov monument, which was very unsuccessful in its execution, and ended up in the Nemetskaya Sloboda. Every house is a wooden palazzo, surrounded by a flowering garden with the most quaint flower beds and fountains. Cleanliness and neatness in everything is the most German. Many houses are built in a medieval spirit: instead of the first floor there is a high foundation with a rustic wall and only on the second floor there are windows behind which silk curtains and some of the luxurious furnishings are visible. Having crossed the bridge over the Kuznechikha River, we entered the town of Solombala, famous in the history of Russian shipbuilding. At the entrance to the village, to the left of the bridge you can see the vast Solovetsky courtyard surrounded by a fence, the two-story stone building of which can accommodate up to 1000 pilgrims. Further behind the birch grove you can see the Solombala Transfiguration Cathedral, built in 1760–1776, formerly called the Admiralty or Naval Cathedral. Having traveled all of Solombala, we came to an area called Maimanka, which received its name from the Maimaksa river washing it, one of the many branches of the Northern Dvina. This is where the sawmill district began. We are driving along a path covered with boards. To the left and right there are huge stacks of already processed timber. A little further away, whole mountains of cuttings from logs are piled up, which are burned in winter to clear the place here, since, thanks to the accumulation of such a mass of forest, no one needs it, and therefore they don’t even take it for nothing. At the S.K. Kyrkalova, Father John served a prayer service, and we went back the same way. In one place we met a rich landau quickly rolling towards us. Since the place was very narrow, we, afraid of getting caught in the wheels, stopped in full confidence that the oncoming coachman would also hold his horses. But the coachman continued to drive quickly. Meanwhile, behind our carriage there was now a wide bishop's carriage, in which Father John was sitting and which could easily be touched. In view of this, when we reached the landau, we shouted to the coachman to drive more quietly. - But, but, but, but! – the thick bass answered threateningly. “That’s what you can do with such fruit,” the bailiff said later. “His pocket is stuffed tightly, and he feels his strength.” On the way back we had to visit several houses where they were eagerly awaiting the arrival of Father John. In almost every house I saw a huge polar bear skin spread across the floor. They say that here during the fair you can buy a beautiful polar bear skin for 25 rubles. On June 16, Father John served mass for the last time in the cathedral, during which he delivered a deeply felt sermon on how to educate youth in the faith and protect them from the harmful influence of some writers who deny all the foundations of Orthodoxy. After mass, Father John had to visit several more houses, and only at five o’clock in the afternoon, having served a prayer service in the chapel of the Sursky metochion, Father, accompanied by almost the entire city with the governor at its head, arrived on his now repaired ship, and we set sail. We walked the whole way from Arkhangelsk in five hours. First we sailed along the Northern Dvina, then we turned into a rather narrow branch of the Dvina - the Kurya or Kuropalka river, which separates the large sandy, willow-covered Kur Island from Kholmogory. Kuropalka turned out to be very shallow, and our steamer kept touching the sandy bottom of the river with its bottom. We were not afraid to “dry out”, since the sea tides still have their influence here, and therefore we tried to get as close as possible to Kholmogory. But we were never able to get to the city itself by boat. We had to stop about three miles from the city at a small hillock, where horses had already been sent for us from the Kholmogory convent. Father John, met by several nuns, announced to them that he would go to spend the night with his second sister, the widow of a priest, living several miles from the monastery, and by 9 o’clock in the morning he would arrive at the monastery to serve mass. Father George and I sat down in a line and, picked up by a pair of round horses, rushed after Father John. Soon we reached the city and drove along its dusty, rather wide street, past small, mostly one-story houses, from the gates of which their inhabitants hurriedly ran out and bowed low to Father John. Kholmogory is a small county town with a little over a thousand inhabitants, located along the banks of the Kuropalka River. As you know, on the Kholmogory meadows, cattle known for their milk production and beauty are raised, bred under Peter the Great by crossing a local breed with a Dutch one. The area, known in our chronicles under the name Kolmogor or Kholmogor, belongs to one of the most ancient settlements of the Novgorodians in the Dvina land and is identified by some historians with Golmgard mentioned in the Scandinavian sagas. The city arose from several villages and graveyards that were in this area, changing their names when they were moved from one place to another, caused by strong floods of the Dvina. The current city is located a mile down the river from the place where it was located at the end of the 17th century and where the cathedral and monastery stand completely alone in a meadow to this day. Soon the majestic Transfiguration Cathedral appeared, standing on a hill a few steps from the monastery fence, and therefore we took from a distance to be part of the monastery. Seeing Father John approaching, the nuns rang their bell tower, and the entire monastery poured out to meet him. But Father turned to the side and drove along the road leading to the village where his sister lives. Only Father George and I went to the monastery. Despite the fact that it was already about eleven o'clock in the evening, in anticipation of the arrival of Father John, no one slept in the monastery and all its gates were open; therefore, having deposited our things at the monastery hotel, located outside the monastery fence, Father George and I entered the monastery in order to introduce ourselves to the abbess and inspect the monastery. The small monastery courtyard, surrounded on all sides by buildings housing the sisters' cells, refectory, workshops, kitchen and bakery, close to the cathedral ends in white stone chambers, built in the 17th century and then intended to house the bishop's staff. In 1744, the unfortunate offspring of Tsar Ivan Antonovich was sent here for imprisonment by their father Anton Ulrich, who, after his wife Anna Leopoldovna died here from childbirth, spent 34 years with his four children under strict supervision. Now, in the room where the prisoners languished, the monastery’s schema-monster is at rest. On the second floor of the chambers there is a very interesting Assumption Church in its plan, adjacent to the premises of the schema nun. Of the objects contemporary with the family of Anton Ulrich, except for a few portraits that have suffered from time to time and stored in the apartment of the abbess, almost nothing remains in the Kholmogory Monastery. Only stone vaults and tightly built walls remained silent witnesses to the long-past heavy drama. Having examined the church, we went into the refectory, a small room, very poorly furnished, and from there we went down to the bakery and prosphora. Of the monastery's workshops in recent times, we were able to see only icon painting. The large, bright room was completely lined with easels with the nuns’ works begun and some already completed. On long wooden tables lay drawings made from plaster masks and body parts. I looked at my watch; it was exactly 12 o'clock at night, and we examined the work without a lamp and did not even have to strain our eyes to look at small things - it was so light. After spending the night at the hotel, we hurried to the monastery church, where nuns were hurrying from all over, since Father John, who had promised to arrive at 9 o’clock in the morning, unexpectedly arrived a whole hour earlier and was already reading the canon. The small monastery church quickly filled with people who came here from Kholmogory and surrounding villages. “We don’t have such a gathering of people even on the day of Holy Easter,” the treasurer of the monastery later told me. According to her, the surrounding population, half consisting of Old Believers, has a very cold attitude towards the church and almost does not visit the monastery. The funds of the monastery are therefore extremely meager and are only to a small extent supported by pilgrims who come here, coming from Russia to Solovki. During the service in the church, I also saw two schema-nuns of the monastery. They sat hunched over on their stools, resting their hands on their staves, and were in wonderful harmony with those heavy arches that hung over their decrepit bodies, hidden under the wide black and white cloaks of schemas. Only the nose and part of the protruding chin were visible. The rest of the faces of both elders were covered with their sad headdress. After finishing the service in the church, Father John, accompanied by the local clergy, walked on foot to the majestic Transfiguration Cathedral, located just a few hundred steps from the monastery. The cathedral was built in 1685 by the first Archbishop of Kholmogory and Vazh Athanasius, a famous opponent of the schism, a favorite of Peter I and his collaborator in the North. Built on the model of the Moscow Assumption Cathedral, the Kholmogory Cathedral is remarkable for its beautiful five-tiered iconostasis, choirs suspended above the altar and beautiful resonance. On both walls of the cathedral there are tombs of six archbishops and four bishops who died in the diocese with portraits of each of them above the tomb and epitaphs, starting with the Most Reverend Athanasius, depicted beardless due to a famous episode in his life that occurred in Moscow during the council there in the presence of Princess Sophia, when the monk Sergius from Suzdal, better known as Nikita Pustosvyat, who wanted to conduct a debate about the “right faith” directly with the patriarch and irritated by the objections of His Eminence Athanasius, rushed at him shouting: “Why are you getting above your head!” - and tore out his beard. In the altar of the cathedral, the local priest showed us a whole collection of the most precious monuments of hoary antiquity, consisting of church utensils, airs, mitres, gospels and crosses from the time of Ivan the Terrible and other eras. Father John examined each individual item in detail and listened to the explanations given by the rector of the cathedral. When we left the cathedral, it began to rain, and then Father amazed everyone with his amazing cheerfulness. “Well, brothers, we need to run away from the rain, otherwise we’ll get wet,” he said, turning to those accompanying us, and, having picked up his cassock more comfortably, he soon ran the entire distance from the cathedral to the monastery. The old priests who were with him, despite the fact that many of them were much younger than Father John, of course, were far behind him. Having dined with the abbess, we said goodbye to the monastery and returned to the ship. On the other side of Kuropalka stretches for many miles, dotted with villages, the sandy Kur-Ostrov, an ancient Chud settlement and the birthplace of M.V. Lomonosov. Behind the willow bushes on the hill you can see a rather sparse spruce forest, the remnant of a mysterious dense forest, in which, according to the legend of the Icelandic chronicler Sturleson, stood the church of the miracle idol of Iomala, richly decorated with precious stones, holding on his knees a bowl full of gold coins and of such a size that if it were filled with water, four could drink from it to their fill. On Kur-island at that time there was a fur fair known far beyond the borders of Biarmia, and the Norwegians who came to this fair robbed the idol at night and, in order to remove the necklace from it, cut it up. Waking up, the guards raised the alarm, and the Chud chased after the Norwegians, but they, being more skilled in military affairs, defeated the Chud in an area that still bears the name of the Massacre and is located lower along the Dvina. To the side of the road leading to Lomonosovskaya (formerly Vozhkorinskaya) volost, there is a small chapel that has existed since 1659. It was erected, according to legend, at the burial site of three Chud princes. In the village of Lomonosovka, the former Denisovka (aka Boloto), in a small garden there is the Lomonosov School, founded in 1868 and built on the site where the house of Lomonosov’s father Vasily Dorofeev stood, a one-story building with 10 windows with a small library, a bone carving class and a room for the teacher. This school is the only memory of Lomonosov. No other monuments, memories or legends now exist about our famous scientist and poet in his homeland. At about 3 o'clock in the afternoon we again went out into the Northern Dvina and went against the current back to the south. Now our path lay on the Volga along the same Northern Dvina and Sukhona, with a stop ahead in Vologda. We now sailed slowly against the current and, moreover, stopped every day to serve mass in those villages that we approached around 8–9 o’clock in the morning. Thus, we completed the entire journey from Kholmogory to Vologda in five days. During these days I witnessed two scenes that will remain in my memory forever. I heard a lot about the events that took place through the prayer of Father John. I also saw people who experienced the effect of Father John’s prayer and were cured of one or another illness. I myself, apart from the amazingly rapid recovery of the nun that occurred in the Sursky metochion in Arkhangelsk after Father’s prayer, had never seen anything before. And now, before my eyes, two incidents occurred, which I will leave to the reader to judge. I myself convey only what I saw, without any embellishment, and I accurately name the places in which the described facts occurred, in order to give those who wish to check what is described with local residents. Back on June 18 in the evening, when we passed by the village of Troitsky, located on the border of the Arkhangelsk and Vologda provinces, we noticed clouds of white smoke far on the horizon. The further we moved upstream, the thicker the smoke became. Finally, soon we were completely enveloped in a shroud of fragrant smoke and enjoyed its smell. The forests in the surrounding area, tundra and juniper were burning. On the morning of June 19, we stopped at the village of Yagryshi, 120 versts from Kotlas. The peasants did not immediately come to the church, which Father John had already entered, since the majority were located outside the outskirts. Everyone fearfully awaited the approaching fire, which slowly but surely did its terrible work, getting closer and closer from the tundra to the villages scattered on the banks of the Dvina. However, the news of Father John’s unexpected arrival quickly spread around everyone, and soon the Yagrysh church was filled with peasants from several villages. Everyone asked Father John to pray for the sending of rain, which had not happened in this area for three months. And Father John prayed. Wanting to take photographs, I left the church before the end of the service and began installing the apparatus on the deck of our steamship “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker." While I was fiddling with the devices, clouds began to approach from the south and a shadow fell on the hot ground. When the mass ended and Father John, accompanied by a huge crowd of people, left the church and headed to the ship, it began to rain. Everyone joyfully looked at the horizon covered with dark clouds and piously crossed their naked heads. When Father entered the deck and the crew of the ship began to drop anchor, the entire shore was covered with a huge crowd of people. Many were forced to enter the water in order to see Father closer, and did not take their enthusiastic gaze off Father John. Finally, a venerable gray-haired old man came out of the crowd and, bowing to the ground to Father John, said the following: “Your high blessing! For three months we did not have a drop of dew, the drought depleted our land, our fields; the fire surrounded our villages on all sides and threatened our homes, and so you, at our request, prayed for us, and the Lord sent us rain. Please accept our gratitude, Your Reverence.” At the last words, the whole people fell to their knees as one person. Many were crying. “No one like God, no one like God,” Father repeated, affectionately nodding his head to everyone. As the steamer left the shore, several people sang psalms; the people took it up, and the voices of a powerful chorus of a thousand-strong crowd continued to fly for a long time after our retreating steamer. Only a terrible downpour, drumming on the roof of our ship, finally drowned out the voice of the crowd, which did not want to disperse even in the rain. The name of Father John is associated with many cases where the matter was not the healing of the sick, but things that had nothing to do with the nervous system and human psyche. Two such incidents happened before my eyes during our trip. I just told you one of them, naming exactly the place where it happened. I do not name where and with whom the second incident occurred, since I do not consider myself to have the right to make public the names of the persons in whose family grief occurs, especially since the fact itself is interesting here, and not the names of the persons involved in it. In one merchant family, which had long been conducting a large wholesale trade, as a result of the unfortunate passion for wine of its head, things began to deteriorate. The bills came due, but the family could not pay them, since at that time all the capital was in circulation, and there was not enough cash. Three days after our arrival in the city where the said family lives, an inventory of the property and all the luxurious furnishings belonging to them was to be made. The family was in terrible grief. They invited Father John, who served a prayer service. The next day, before we left for our further journey, one of the local residents, whom I had met the day before, came up to me and said: – Do you know what happiness N.N. brought to the family? Father John. -What's the matter? - I ask. - Yes, of course: soon after his departure some merchants came to them and bought goods for six thousand rubles. Now they have the opportunity to get rid of the inventory of property. A lot of such incidents happened and are happening in the life of Father John. At about 12 o'clock at night on June 19, we passed Kotlas and sailed upstream of the Sukhona. The night became noticeably darker, especially since the sky was overcast with clouds, from which rain fell from time to time. By 8 o'clock on June 20 we arrived at Veliky Ustyug. This time Father served mass in the Cathedral of St. Procopius the Righteous. When Father John was preparing to return to the ship, he was asked to visit a sick young man who had been hurt by a horse and was now lying at home, unable to move. According to those who asked to visit him, the doctors refused to treat him, since the patient had developed something like gangrene. When Father John came to the sick man, he told him: – If you can pray with faith, then pray and hope – and the Lord will hear you and help you. “I believe, Father, I believe with all my heart, pray for me,” the young man answered him. Father John began to pray. When, after finishing the prayer, Father John, having said goodbye to his family, headed towards the exit, the sick man himself rose from his seat, threw his crutches aside and, staggering, went to accompany Father John to the exit. “Look, mom,” he said, “I can already hold myself without crutches.” Such a rapid metamorphosis interested even Father John himself, and he told the patient that when he recovered completely, he should write him a letter about himself. From Ustyug to Vologda. – Stay in Vologda. - Again on Lake Kubenskoye. – Sheksna We sailed the distance from Ustyug to Vologda in three days, stopping every day to serve mass in the villages we met along the way. Everywhere, as before, people flocked from all sides and besieged Father with all sorts of requests, and, to the honor of those who turned to him, it must be said that all these requests were more about satisfying a moral, spiritual need than about material help. In one place, during our stop near a small village where we were getting firewood, a woman, along with other peasants, came onto our ship, carrying some strange creature on her back, pressed tightly against her. The monkey is not a monkey, but it doesn’t look much like a human either. The hunched body on long crooked legs and with equally long and thin arms was pressed tightly against the mother’s back. The large elongated head with sunken cheeks hung forward and seemed ready to tear away from the thin neck with a huge Adam’s apple. It turned out that this strange creature is 19 years old. His mother lowered him onto the deck of the ship at the feet of Father John. - Pray, dear, for him. He has been asking you for a long time. “He doesn’t understand anything, because he’s poor, but he’s been asking for everything for a long time,” she turned to Father. The little wretched creature raised its crazy eyes upward and smiled at Father John. Father took his head in his hands and began to stroke and caress him. “This happened to him out of fright,” his mother explained to us. “When he was still a boy, about five years old, he was scared in a fire. Since then he has become sick and stupid. After Father John’s blessing, the little creature noticeably perked up. It was happy. He rejoiced, vaguely realizing that he was caressed by the same, always and with everyone, kind Kronstadt Father, Father Ivan, who was so often mentioned in his village and in his family since childhood. When our ship set sail from the shore, behind a crowd of women who had gone knee-deep into the water, I saw Stepushka, that was the name of the frightened boy, sitting on the shore, completely cheerful. He threw pebbles up and rejoiced like little children rejoice. The women surrounded him and looked with curiosity at him, then at our retreating ship. Obviously, something happened to Stepushka that doesn’t usually happen to him. On the morning of June 21, Father John celebrated mass in the large village of Brusnitsa that we encountered. This village left a strong impression in my memory for two reasons: firstly, it is very beautifully spread out along the mountainous bank of the Sukhona and with its massive quaint huts and purely Russian simple population, not yet touched by urban culture, it represents one of those corners of indigenous Rus' that are becoming less and less common on large navigable rivers; and secondly, I almost stepped on a dead person here. A strange custom exists here during funeral services for the dead. During mass, they are placed not in the middle of the church, as is customary in our country, but on the floor near the side wall at the entrance to the church. When I entered the church where Father John was already serving, a dense crowd of worshipers filled the church in a dense mass. The apple, as they say, had nowhere to fall. I somehow squeezed my way to the side wall and slowly made my way forward, peering with curiosity at the old blackened paintings on the walls. Suddenly my leg felt something hard. Thinking that it was a step in front of the image, I already raised my leg to stand on it, but, looking down, I staggered back in horror. At my feet, parallel to the wall, stood a low wooden coffin containing a deceased person. If I hadn't looked at the floor, my foot would have been in a coffin. The next morning we were already fifty miles from the village of Shuisky and celebrated mass in the village of Ikolitsy. The people here are of a completely different character than in Brusnitsy. Sundresses disappeared and were replaced by ugly city-style sweaters. The banks of the Sukhona have become noticeably lower and more monotonous. In the evening we entered the Vologda River, which cuts through flood fields and meadows like a narrow ribbon. In the spring, the entire visible space is covered with water, and then the bed of the Vologda River can only be recognized by the high pillars dug into its bank. Night fell and it became completely dark. Towing steamers with barges constantly come our way, and we have difficulty maneuvering among them. At midnight we landed on the shore several miles from the city of Vologda. A huge three-story steamship of the Northern Society, “Reverend Savvaty,” passed by us, making voyages between Vologda and Arkhangelsk. Like a huge house with a mass of windows illuminated by electricity, in which dozens of human heads were visible, it quickly rushed past us, leaving a trail in the air of a billion sparks flying from the chimney. At about eight o'clock in the morning we approached Vologda, and Father John immediately went to the Spasograd Cathedral, where he celebrated mass. Having then made the necessary visits in the city, Father John went to the estate of the mayor N.A. Volkov, located three miles from Vologda. The old manor house of Mr. Volkov is surrounded by a huge garden with long shady alleys. When we approached the estate, about forty people of the most diverse crowd had already entered the garden; then this number increased to three hundred people. All the time until lunch, which was scheduled at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Father John walked around the garden, talking with those who came up to him for a blessing, caressing the children and examining all the interesting corners of the garden. Soon the Vologda bishop, governor and vice-governor arrived. Lunch was served on the open veranda overlooking the garden. The public took advantage of this circumstance, flooded the garden and did not want to part with Father John, and surrounded our veranda on all sides. We found ourselves, as it were, on the stage of a theater “fully assembled,” and therefore we did not feel entirely comfortable. But what was to be done with the people who did not want to take their eyes off their beloved shepherd? At the end of lunch, Father John went down to the bottom step of the porch, and the whole crowd in strict order walked past him in line, receiving a blessing. Out of fear that when seeing off Father John at the pier where our steamer was docked, there might be a stampede, Father was offered to board a Putivsky steamer at another pier, on which representatives of the city, headed by the governor, expressed their desire to accompany Father until our ship left the Vologda River for the Sukhona. Thus, the public gathered on the embankment unexpectedly saw Father John appear on a railroad steamer passing by the pier. Behind the Putin steamer our “St. Nicholas the Wonderworker” and in this order walked to the place where Father John, having said goodbye to those seeing him off, walked along the ladder to his deck. In the evening we passed the 1st lock and soon went out into Lake Kubenskoye. Heavy lead clouds hung over the lake. A gusty wind blows forcefully towards us and drives wave after wave. We began to sway. On Lake Kubenskoye we got quite rocked. My companions told me that on this lake, on one of his trips to his homeland, Father John almost became a victim of the elements, risking to cross the stormy lake on the small Loparev steamboat “Shestovets”, which several times was ready to dive into the abyss of water along with its passengers, but by some miracle he was saved. On the morning of June 24, leaving the lake into the canal, we passed through four locks and stopped at the Annunciation parish, where Father John celebrated mass. A huge stone church, a lot of shops, several inns - everything testifies to the prosperity of the local population, mainly engaged in trade. Having served mass, we immediately set off on the road. Again crowds of people ran after us from lock to lock. Women, old men and children were running, running for several miles, stumbling and falling from exhaustion. Soon we entered the narrow channel of the Duke of Württemberg and, after passing about five locks, turned to Sheksna. Here we had to go through two more huge stone sluices built on Sheksna itself. On the granite embankments, on both sides of the locks, a crowd of people gathered as our steamer approached. But it was no longer the people, the people who met and saw us off on the canals, but the public. There are many ladies and young ladies, students, officials and merchants. The majority are local summer residents. Everyone behaves decorously, bowing respectfully and approaching Father John for a blessing. Sheksna and Volga. – Stop in Rybinsk. – Vaulovo estate And suddenly, in the silence, hysterical screams are heard. A young woman is brought to the steamer, supported by an old woman and a lock watchman. - Father, dear, help her! - the old woman shouts. - What's the matter, grandma? - asks Father John and goes to the edge of the deck to see the crying woman closer. “Father, grief happened to me,” the young woman says through tears, “I didn’t live with my husband for a year, and he killed himself while drunk.” Now I am left alone with the child. And I don’t know whether it’s possible to pray for him, whether it’s possible to give remembrance for a sinful soul to the church. Father John told her that it was possible and necessary to pray for a sinful soul, and that he himself would pray for her, but that she should not be commemorated in church. Taking a new pilot, we left the lock and swam quite quickly downstream. After the empty northern rivers, where only occasionally a village appeared among the dense forests, Sheksna seems very lively and populated. Every now and then, pretty dachas, densely populated villages and tall factory chimneys appear on its banks. Endless caravans of barges, towed by huge steamships, are stretching towards us. In one place, several caravans, each 5-6 boats, completely blocked the already narrow river, and we had to moor to the shore and wait for the fairway to clear. We passed by Cherepovets at night and stopped here for a few minutes in the hope that the nuns of the Leushinsky Monastery would meet us and give us letters from St. Petersburg. But since we were not sailing according to schedule, the nuns were not waiting for us at night, and therefore we had to continue our journey without receiving the mail that interested us. The night had already fallen completely dark, and therefore the crew of our ship vigilantly followed the signal lanterns indicating the fairway. On the morning of June 25, a large passenger steamer caught up with us, and from its bridge they shouted into a bullhorn for us to stop, since the nuns of the Leushinsky monastery were about to transfer to us. It turned out that after our departure from Cherepovets, the pier immediately informed the monastery about us and the nuns with the abbess at their head, without wasting time, gathered and set off in pursuit of us. When the gangplank was thrown from ship to ship, Mother Superior Taisiya and two nuns came over to us. Even earlier, somehow in a conversation, Father John told me that the Leushinsky abbess was a very smart and educated woman who graduated from the Catherine Institute. Being the granddaughter of the great Pushkin, mother Taisiya inherited a love of poetry from her grandfather, and she herself wrote many poems, published in a separate book and published in some periodicals. The arrival of Mother Superior Taisia ​​brought great excitement to our ship. Many received long-awaited news from their loved ones and rejoiced that everything was fine at home, everyone was healthy. Mother Taisiya informed Father John about the affairs of her monastery, in which Father was always very interested. Now, at the Leushinsky monastery, about 300 students of pedagogical courses located at the monastery were eagerly awaiting the arrival of Father John. Future teachers wanted to receive Father’s blessing before entering a difficult life. At about two o'clock in the afternoon we stopped at one place near an inn to load firewood. The people who were here were so happy about Father John that the crew of our ship did not have to carry firewood at all. The firewood was quickly carried from the shore to the ship by a hundred volunteers. Worn by peasants, women, old people and teenagers, boys and girls. To top it all off, the owner of the inn and owner of the firewood flatly refused to take money for the firewood. “For mercy’s sake, such happiness has fallen on my head,” she said, “and suddenly I’ll take money from my dear Father.” Before evening, when no more than twenty miles remained before the confluence of the Sheksna and the Volga, we saw a half-flooded barge loaded with bread on the left bank of the river. Several people on the barge waved their hats at us and shouted something. Seeing the people in need, Father John ordered to stop. Soon a boat floated up to us from a barge and there were three people in it: as it turned out later, the merchant - the owner of the flooded goods, his clerk and the agent of the insurance Company in which the goods were insured. All three were very tipsy, and therefore did not immediately realize whose ship they had been taken on and what kind of priest was standing in front of them on the deck. The insurance company agent was especially cheerful. Climbing onto the deck, he shouted to the worker who had brought the whole company in the boat: “There’s a basket of beer under the bench, so you take it to second grade, we’ll finish it off there!” - and, taking out a cigarette case from his pocket, he was about to light a cigarette. Someone present noticed to him that no one smokes on the ship, since Father does not like tobacco smoke. “Excuse me, what does this have to do with father,” he protested... But then his eyes turned to Father John, who was looking at him tenderly, and he, obviously realizing what kind of Father was standing in front of him, almost dropped his cigarette case. - Yes, really, this can’t be! – his lips began to babble. “Father, dear, forgive us for Christ’s sake, but we thought we were on an ordinary ship.” What happiness! I have seen you more than once, but always from afar; I couldn’t get to you for the people. He and his two companions could not come to their senses for a long time. And they were glad that they saw Father John so unexpectedly, and at the same time they were ashamed that they got on Father’s ship in such an ugly state. They were offered tea and shown to a separate cabin. - This is probably out of grief, right? – I couldn’t resist asking. - What a grief! “With joy, not with grief,” the same cheerful agent laughs. “What a joy it is that so much goods were lost: after all, this is a loss to the owner,” I was surprised. “Listen, this is a loss for you,” he turned with a poisonous smile to the owner of the bread and laughed loudly. From further conversation, I realized that the owner of the goods was not only not saddened by its destruction, but, on the contrary, was very pleased with this circumstance. “If only a barge with bread would arrive in St. Petersburg, and if only a buyer for the bread would be found,” the agent explained to me, “then the job is ready: go and get the insurance premium.” Soon the whole company, settled down among chests and suitcases, fell into a deep, drunken sleep, and when the ship arrived in Rybinsk and they were woken up, they somehow quietly disappeared from the ship, apparently embarrassed about the past. At 8 o'clock in the evening we entered the Volga and stopped at Rybinsk. A whole forest of masts and steamship pipes. A whole floating city on the river. Wooden and canvas roofs cover millions of pounds of grain, brought here in huge barges that covered the entire river in a dense mass. The river disappeared under the caravans that arrived from the lower reaches of Mother Volga. Only a narrow passage is left for navigation. Therefore, it was very difficult to approach one of the piers of Rybinsk. We moored to the pier of the state-owned rescue steamer "Okhrana" and, in order to get ashore, had to pass through the wide deck of the "Okhrana", the sailors of which helped to hold back the pressure of the crowd when Father John boarded the carriage handed to him. The Okhrana steamer fully lives up to its name. Standing among huge caravans, the “Security” is ready every minute to come to the aid of a ship in an accident. The Okhrana has several independent vehicles for both fire extinguishing and drainage. Father John spent the night in the house of a local large grain merchant, the city of Klementyev. Mr. Klementyev's house faces the embankment, and therefore for a long time, before going to bed, we admired the wonderful panorama of the Volga, along which dozens of different steamships, illuminated with multi-colored lights, scurried back and forth. In the morning, Father John celebrated mass in the beautiful cathedral and then went on visits to the city. Taking advantage of the free time, I went to inspect the new church at the Baskakovsky shelter. Everyone in the city was talking about this church, as there was a heated debate about whether it could be opened for worshipers or not. The fact is that, built in a new style, according to a project approved and approved by Moscow professors by students of the Stroganov School, some local critics did not like it, and therefore it remained closed. The church made the most pleasant impression on me. I cannot imagine a more successful combination of the new style with the ancient Byzantine. The unfortunate thing is that local critics didn't understand everything. They found the oxidized silver of the tabernacle very similar to mold, and they did not like it. You see, everything needs to shine like a just cleaned samovar. But this is not here. On the contrary, in everything you can see the effort to convey the impression of a native Russian old woman, which was brilliantly done by the builders. In my opinion, in the new church of the Baskakovsky shelter, the city of Rybinsk has acquired a new attraction, and it will be a great pity if, at the behest of a pike, they begin to “correct” it. Having dined with the hospitable family of Messrs. Klementiev, Father John said goodbye to the owners, visited several more families in the city and arrived on the ship. At three o'clock in the afternoon we had already set sail from the Okhrana pier and, having somehow made our way between the caravans of ships to the middle of the river, we sailed down the Volga. Father John was now traveling to inspect an estate in Borisoglebsky district, donated to the Ioannovsky St. Petersburg Monastery by Senator Mordvinov. At about 6 o'clock in the evening we were already approaching Romanov-Borisoglebsk, on the embankment of which a large crowd of people had gathered in anticipation of Father John. Having somehow made our way to the carriages prepared for us, we sat down and drove first along the bank steeply descending to the Volga, past old dilapidated shacks and one-story wooden houses, then climbed the mountain, drove past a beautiful ancient cathedral, in which a few years ago the famous disaster with pilgrims occurred, and then drove out onto the road leading to Vaulovo - an estate now owned by Ioannovsky monastery The road goes through mountainous, highly picturesque terrain. Shady groves give way to rich fields. A whole yellow sea of ​​ripened bread sways on the left and right sides of the black road. Tall windmills with wings half torn off by a recent storm stand on hillocks. Behind them one can see the rich huts of wealthy peasants. Not huts, but pretty dachas with patterned windows and porches and often with an iron roof. And it’s not surprising, because the owners are mostly engaged in trade in St. Petersburg or Moscow. Only their families live here. But then, among the green grove, two white ancient churches appeared, the same white bell tower and a large manor house. This is Vaulovo, the former property of Senator Mordvinov. - Good property; It will be good for the nuns here,” the coachman spoke to us. “This bell tower is wonderful,” he continued, “the bells in it are so chosen that “Kol Slaven” can be played.” And there is a bell ringer who plays. They will probably leave it at the bell tower. And they will probably leave the priest here, Father Pavel, too, because he is a rare priest. Not a priest, but a father! He has been serving here for thirty-six years. Yes, how it serves! And there are no singers here, but people come to him from other parishes, so he serves with his soul... He is a faster and a man of righteous life,” our coachman finished when we were already driving into the wide courtyard of the estate, where we were greeted by the owner of the house with purely Russian cordiality and hospitality. Julian Flavius ​​Claudius - Roman Emperor (361-363) also known as the Apostate. The young emperor, surrounded by philosophers, scientists and priests, zealously set about restoring paganism. Paganism again became the state religion. At first, Julian behaved condescendingly towards Christians. He thought that without bloody persecution, through cunning politics, he could weaken and destroy Christianity, and when this failed, he moved on to brutal persecution, but was soon killed in one of the battles during the campaign against Persia (363). With his death, his work of restoring paganism also ended. – Ed. Taibola – dense forests. – Ed. Samoyeds is the old name of the peoples who speak Samoyed languages ​​- Nenets, Selkuns, etc. - Ed.