Книга шестая (404 г.)

Criminal proceedings regarding the fire. – Arrest of bishops and clergy. - The torment of Tigrius and Serapion. – Arzas is the successor of Chrysostom. - Accusation of Olympias, Pentadia, Ampructa and Nicareta. - Chrysostom is being taken into exile; holiday in Nicaea; departure to Kukuz. – Dangers within Ancyra. – The Bishop of Caesarea incites the monks against Chrysostom. - Appearance of the Isaurians in the vicinity of Caesarea. – The attack of the monks prompts Chrysostom to leave Caesarea. – Events in Constantinople. – Death of Empress Eudoxia. – Heavenly justice over the enemies of Chrysostom. – Neil of Sinai. – Death of Areas and election of a new bishop. – Triumvirate of the Patriarchs of Constantinople, Alexandria and Antioch against Chrysostom. - Destruction of Syrian churches. “Who set fire to the church and caused this terrible disaster? At what time did the fire break out and under what circumstances?” - these are the questions that were asked everywhere in Constantinople in the days following the burning of the Church of Hagia Sophia, and to which twenty different answers were received, however, relating to certain main points. Regarding the culprits of the fire, there were four such points. 1) John set fire to the church with his attackers - bishops, clergy and deaconesses, at a time when they were left alone just before his departure. The motivation for this was the desire to prevent anyone else from preaching after him from this pulpit, the place of his national fame. He also hoped that the fire, spreading further and further, would reach the imperial palace and turn it into ruins along with the church. This story was invented by bishops and courtiers, enemies of Chrysostom. The court, commissioned to investigate the matter, allowed this rumor for some time, but then abandoned it, as we will see, due to the excessiveness of the accusation, but the bishops Antiochus, Acacius and Severian did not abandon it - in a word, the “sycophants of John” (as history calls them) sent a notice to Pope Innocent, in which they declared the bishop the destroyer of his own church, and this vile accusation complemented the affairs that the pope collected in Rome for the Ecumenical Council. 2) The culprits were pagans and Jews, who, during the great confusion that accompanied the departure of Chrysostom, at the sight of so many Christians gathered together within the walls of the Church of Hagia Sophia, came to mind the hellish idea of ​​burning them all along with their church. This rumor obviously came from Christians, but it inspired little confidence and was not mentioned at all in the judicial investigation that opened soon. And in fact, it was unlikely that, due to the short distance separating the Great Curia from the Christian basilica, the pagans would have decided to start a fire in it, which could easily reach the Curia and destroy, along with the beautiful temple, the images so revered by them. 3) The crime was committed by Johnnites from the crowd - out of revenge, to punish the city and the Emperor for the cruelties inflicted on their favorite, and out of reluctance for another bishop to come to take the throne of John. This explanation found the greatest confidence: it served as the basis for a judicial investigation and has been preserved in history as the most plausible; many ecclesiastical writers do not hesitate to acknowledge it. This assumption, however, was a very dangerous basis for a judicial investigation, because suspicion, not directed at anyone in particular, applied to everyone, and it was involuntarily necessary to include high-ranking persons and respected by all among the accomplices of the crime. This, naturally, gave rise to the idea of ​​a conspiracy, and this is something that the city authorities took advantage of with great pleasure. 4) There was also a fourth rumor. They said that during a storm that shook the church from the top to the very foundation, its vault moved apart, and a pillar of fire descended on the episcopal throne, engulfed it and from there spread in huge helical circles throughout all parts of the building. This assumption, which meant God himself as the “culprit” of the fire, was not referred to by anyone in the deliberations of the court, and Chrysostom’s letters do not mention a word about it; nevertheless, Palladius alludes to it in his Dialogues, and the historians of the end of that century simply reproduce it as an event about which they themselves apparently had no doubt. These were the guesses about the cause of the fire. As to the hour when it first flared up, the evidence differed even more. Some argued that the fire broke out only a few moments after the archbishop left, which seemed to confirm the opinion of his accusers; according to others, the fire was seen much later, namely in the evening; the third contradiction postponed the start of the fire until the next morning - according to this story, the Johannites, locked in the church, lit it before leaving, and the fire, which had been smoldering throughout the night, ignited by dawn. One circumstance was recognized equally by almost everyone - that the flame broke out first of all from the episcopal throne and that the fire, fanned by the wind, assumed such strength and such a direction that in less than three hours the basilica, the Curia, private dwellings - everything was destroyed. A judicial investigation began. The judge to whom this case was entrusted, Studius, prefect of the city, obeying the suggestions of the court, gave the order to arrest two bishops, Eulysius and Cyriacus, as well as several archbishop clergy who accompanied Chrysostom in his exile; He did not dare to do the same with Chrysostom. The exile with his convoy of Praetorians followed the high road from Chalcedon, where he landed on the shore, to Nicaea of ​​Bithynia, where the first stop was supposed to be. His companions and he himself rode sadly, not suspecting that the church they had just abandoned was now only a heap of rubble and ashes. They were already far from the shore when they were joined by an officer sent with an order for the arrest, and a detachment of horsemen who were catching up with them at full speed with their horses. At the news communicated by these people of the fire of Hagia Sophia, the archbishop and his companions were at first astonished, but their surprise gave way to indignation when they learned that they themselves had been accused of arson, and that the prefect had given orders to send them to the prison of Constantinople, chained as criminals, in order to be interrogated there on this charge. The arrest order did not concern Chrysostom, but he wished to share their fate. “I will not be separated from my brothers,” he said with animation, “if they are guilty, I am also guilty, if they are the instrument of a crime, then I must be its culprit or instigator. I must be interrogated so that my friends and enemies will know whether I am an arsonist or not.” The officer did not have the authority to make any decision, having received only instructions to convey an order from the court, and therefore he limited himself to accepting the archbishop’s written protest. The protest consisted of the following: “Although due to other circumstances of the case they refused to listen to my answer to the charges raised against me, however, regarding the fire of my church, they should listen to me, because you say that I am the culprit of this fire.” Obviously, the archbishop easily guessed that such an offensive idea could only have been invented by his enemies, bishops and courtiers. While he was writing, chains were put on his companions, and the horsemen threw them into the Chalcedonian dungeons, from where they were transported to the dungeons of Constantinople, then they were released, with the condition never to appear in the capital. After their departure, Chrysostom was left completely alone. There were no more friends to whom he could open his heart, who would take pity on him, who would help him with his frequent ailments, because he was not allowed to take a servant. Next to him remained only the rude soldiers of the convoy accompanying him. What would have happened to him on such a difficult journey, in the heat, with weaknesses, the severity of which was intensified by fatigue and sadness, if in this distress God, his only protection, had abandoned him? The convoy consisted of praetorians, simple and rude people, but more compassionate than those whose orders they carried out. The sight that had just happened before them touched them, and they felt involuntary compassion for this half-dead shepherd, whom the people loved, and whose name had come to their ears many times. Seeing him as a victim of so much suffering, physical and mental, they considered it their duty to help him and provide services, although he meekly rejected them. During stops, they tried to get him food better than their own and give him a few hours of rest when he got off the stretcher. When the stomach pains from the stifling heat increased his suffering to the highest degree, he felt attacks of fever, for which he knew only one remedy - baths, meanwhile his convoy was ordered not to stop in cities, the only places where public baths could be found; when a severe attack was approaching, Chrysostom had to use a barrel instead of a bath. The guards assisted him in these needs with touching zeal. Although they felt sorry at first, they finally fell in love with him. The convoy was commanded by two young officers from Constantinople, who, without at all condemning the services of their soldiers, themselves surrounded the exile with respectful care. Their names were Anatoly and Theodore, they had good surnames and good upbringing. Chrysostom mentions them with praise in his letters. Thanks to their tolerance, the prisoner was able to see the priests who were close to him on the way, who brought him news, and could write and receive letters. All this was a great consolation for him. Where were they taking him? Where will his place of exile be? He did not know this, and the guards knew no more about it than he did. They were supposed to find a royal decree in Nicaea that would determine the future fate of the exile. The rumor that reached them on the way called at first Pontic Scythia, the extreme province of the Roman Empire, near the Caucasus, rather a land of barbarians than a Roman country; then, fortunately, this rumor fell silent, and they persistently called Armenia, to which, indeed, Chrysostom was heading, approaching Nicaea. Considering this news plausible, he hastened to write to the deaconess Olympias that if this assumption is true, then he asks to procure for himself a residence in Upper Armenia, its main city of Sebast - a significant city that had relations with all the main localities of the East. She could easily achieve this favor, he wrote to her, through the mediation of one of their friends’ bishops, named Cyriacus, of the same name as the one who is now detained in Chalcedon; he adds to this a few more names of persons on whom he also relied heavily, such as: the eunuch Brison, the chamberlain of the empress, who sympathized with him in his soul, Peanius, a significant man who enjoyed the trust of high-ranking officials, especially a wealthy Armenian from Sebastian, named Arabius, whose wife was connected by ties of close friendship with Olympias. We will see soon what happened from these recommendations. Chrysostom, consumed by worries and trembling with feverish chills, after almost a ten-day journey, finally reached Nicaea. While the archbishop was on his way to this first station of his pilgrimage, in Constantinople the interrogators laid hands on his friends, bishops, priests or deacons, who, one after another, were sent to city prisons, even persecuting women. Despite these strictures, the prefect of Studii was suspected at court - due to the fact that he acted moderately and spared some people, as was the case with Chrysostom. A few days later he was recalled, and the prefecture of the city passed from his hands into the hands of a man who was more to the empress’s heart and, indeed, tried not to be suspected. His name was Optat. Contemporaries report that he was a pagan who, of course, professed not only the crude paganism of the crowd, which consisted in the worship of stone and wooden idols, but the paganism of the enlightened and wealthy class: the polytheism of the Sophists. Christianity had no more deadly enemy than this arrogant sect, and for Christians there could be no judges more formidable than its followers, who adopted as their slogan the words that Nero said on the occasion of the fire in Rome: “Christians are guilty, in any case, and always deserve the utmost severity.” With these convictions, Optat continued the criminal case regarding the fire of Hagia Sophia, begun by his predecessor. Being an equally zealous sectarian and a courtier, he wanted to carry out interrogations himself and settled down in the forum, at his tribunal, among instruments of torture, flaming braziers, iron grates, wooden machines, stocks, pincers for twisting arms and legs, surrounded by informers, executioners, detectives and other interrogation participants. Some historians point out that among the latter sat clerics of the court party, who were assigned to sit with the judge, instilling in him crafty questions that could embarrass the accused, or turning words torn out by torment in favor of the accusation. It would be difficult to believe such baseness if modern evidence did not confirm it. Studius began the interrogation, Optat began the torture: it was necessary to force a confession from people who had until then denied everything. One of the first to be brought from prison for interrogation was a young reader of the archbishop's church, who for some time served as a minister under the archbishop. He was a young man of meek disposition, gentle and weak physique, who looked quite like a girl, with a face bearing the stamp of virginal purity. One could say that he came from another world - he was so wonderful with the purity of his soul and the weakness of his body. The judge wanted to force him to point to Archbishop John, his former master, and his friends, also his former patrons, as the culprits of the church fire, but Eutropius (that was the name of the young man, who was later canonized by the Church) replied that he knew nothing about this. To force a confession from him, the prefect ordered the young man to be put in a pen, where he was brutally scourged. They waited for some careless word to come out of his mouth that the judge could use, but in vain: the young man did not utter anything except the following words: “I know nothing about what you are asking me about.” Then they resorted to stronger means, but even the blows of lead belts could not force him to answer as the judge wanted; and so they tore his sides with steel hooks and brought burning torches to them, tore his forehead so that his eyebrows disappeared... But Eutropius was silent - when they untied him from the machine, he turned out to be dead. Now it was necessary to bury him, because it was impossible to return the corpse to the prison, but since there was not a single Johannite priest at hand, the clergy of Akaki, who sat during the torture, were forced to bury their victim themselves, escorting the deceased to the cemetery at night. They said that at that moment, as these wicked hands lowered the young reader into the grave, the sky opened, and the singing of Angels could be heard, welcoming the young man, deprived of funeral prayers and the last kiss of his brothers. Another clergyman of Chrysostom, the former deacon Tigris, or Tigrius (revered by the Church as a hieromartyr), now a priest, also fell into the hands of the jailers. Born, in all likelihood, on the banks of the river whose name he bore, Tigrius spent his childhood in slavery, from which he freed himself thanks to his intelligence and good behavior. Having received freedom, he became a Christian, was accepted into the ranks of the clergy, and Chrysostom introduced him into the bosom of his Church. For the former slave this was the height of honor, and from that time on the bishop became his second master, to whom he devoted himself in the same way as he was devoted to the first. He saw no one else in the world except Chrysostom; every friend of the archbishop became his friend, every opponent his enemy. At the Council of Duba, he was recognized as one of those who most participated in the unrest of the Church of Constantinople, and he was not forgotten when, after the fire of Hagia Sophia, members of the clergy were investigated. It was pointless to expect such a person to testify against his master, and to want to force him to say that Chrysostom was an arsonist, and an arsonist of his own church, meant arousing the full force of his indignation against those interrogating him. It is not known what he answered to the prefect, but he was immediately subjected to torture, the most shameful. He was stripped and whipped with lead belts until the torn flesh exposed his spine; They put stocks on his feet, stretching his fingers, and finally they stretched him on a machine until he lost consciousness, after which he was sent to rot in prison on straw. However, Tigrius did not die. When his wounds healed somewhat and he was able to endure the shaking of the cart, he was sent to Mesopotamia to see again the banks of the river that he had left while still a slave... The name of Tigria is usually accompanied by the name of Serapion. The triumphant party was eager to lay its hand on the former deacon of Hagia Sophia, who had been elevated to the rank of Bishop of Heraclea in Thrace, but Serapion was in his diocese at the time of the fire, and although he could counter every accusation with an undeniable alibi, he knew his enemies too well to rely on his undoubted right, therefore, as soon as the investigation began, he went to a safe place. For some time he was hidden from all searches by secular authorities within the walls of their monastery by Gothic Orthodox monks, who were called Mars, and Serapion was discovered already when the first excitement of anger had calmed down somewhat. If he had been found earlier, they would have killed him, but now they were content with torture. Among other torments, the skin of his forehead and eyebrows was torn off with steel pincers and hooks, then he was sent to Egypt, under the supervision of the Patriarch of Alexandria - Serapion, of course, would have preferred the guards of the imperial jailers. As an interlude between these bloody events, there followed the installation of a new archbishop in Constantinople in the place of the exiled saint. Chrysostom was taken from the capital on June 20, and his successor was imprisoned on the 27th. Neither the court nor the bishops, who were now in charge of everything, wasted no time; the court hoped that the people would forget their idol sooner if they lost hope of his return, and the bishops, for their part, were in a hurry to put a barrier to repentance possible on the part of Augusta. Meanwhile, finding a new archbishop, despite all the need to hurry, was not easy. The emperor did not dare to elect any of the bishops close to him - neither Acacius, nor Antiochus, nor Severian (besides, they would not agree for fear of popular indignation), and so everyone succumbed to the suggestions of the empress, who gave preference to a man no less hostile to Chrysostom, but less disgraced than the others, because he was more cowardly. This man, the brother of Nektarios, who was formerly a prefect and then an archbishop of Constantinople, belonged to the highest court society, having been an archpriest in the archbishop's clergy for many years. His name was Arzas. He was at least 80 years old when the empress pointed him out - but this advanced age itself left hope for ambitious rivals who could see only a temporary archbishop in Arsas. Despite his high position in the world and theological knowledge, which could not be denied to him, this clergyman did not make himself known in any way until that time, but always remained careless and inactive, unless he was prompted by some personal interest. Scoffers spoke evilly about this successor of the great Chrysostom, saying that “he has the multiplicity of a fish” and that “he puts the fervor of a frog into his oratory.” They told an anecdote about him that did not do him much honor as a clergyman and bishop. When his brother Nektarios from the Prefecture of Constantinople was appointed to the primary archbishopric throne of the East by the will of Theodosius, this sudden elevation, which amazed everyone, did not remain without some envy on the part of Arsas. And indeed, he himself, as if striving for the same position, hastened to accept the priesthood. Nectarius, who was his elder brother, eagerly reproached him. “I see right through you,” he told him with some causticity, “you are coveting the wife that the Lord gave me in the person of this Church, and you are waiting for my inheritance...” - Arzas denied. “In that case,” cried Nectarius, “leave for Tara right now; I am securing this bishopric for you in advance.” Arzas refused to go there, but he felt ashamed. Seizing the Gospel, he swore on it to his brother that he would never accept the archbishopric. Apparently, this oath could not resist the seduction of Eudoxia. In his relations with Chrysostom, as an archpriest, he behaved like a hidden enemy, constantly dishonoring his bishop, whom he denounced even at the Council in Duba. The shameful lack of fidelity to one's word was not sufficient reason to prevent the choice of a court. Called by the Emperor, chosen by the pseudo-assembly and installed by the bishops of the triumphant party, he was elevated to the rank in the Church of the Holy Apostles, which served temporarily as the cathedral church in Constantinople until Hagia Sophia was restored on the ruins of the former. Arsas had already taken over the administration of his disputed archbishopric when the prefect Optatus gave a new look to the Johannite cause. Tired of struggling with the steadfastness of men, this official thought that it was easier to cope with women, and turned to those of them who, being in the service of the Church, could know the secrets of Chrysostom or even become his obedient instrument. We are talking about deaconesses. The first one he called to trial was Olympias, this famous matron, so famous throughout the East for her brilliant origin, the height of her soul and the enormous fortune that she spent on feeding the poor of her Church; In addition, Chrysostom’s last instructions were addressed to her before his departure. Before putting her in front of Optat, the bailiffs led her, as if for temptation, among the instruments of torture that the executioners were preparing for the case at that time. The prefect, seeing her, asked in a threatening voice why she set fire to the Church of Hagia Sophia. “My whole life,” she answered calmly, “sufficiently refutes such an accusation; I was once rich, and it is known that all my wealth was used to build or decorate the churches of God. This is not how you learn to set fire to churches.” “I know your life!” – the prefect exclaimed in anger. “If you know her, then get off the podium where you sit as an accuser - let others judge you and me,” came the answer. The prosecutor's bench was empty. Confused by such presence of mind, the prefect pretended that he had been deceived and made no further mention of the charge of arson; but, giving his voice a tone of feigned compassion, he said: “I want to give advice to you and everyone like you: you women have gone completely crazy, refusing, as you all do, to communicate with your bishop; after all, your behavior will entail inevitable disasters and punishments. Listen, fix this before it’s too late.” The charge has apparently been changed. Instead of arson, they were now accused of apostasy and heresy. This ploy did not escape the attention of the Olympics. “Optat,” she said to him, “is it fair that, having demanded me here with a multitude of people to explain a crime of which I am innocent and in which not a single piece of evidence can incriminate me, you interrupt my defense, distracting me with insults that have nothing to do with it. If this is a new crime of which you consider me guilty, and a new charge that you bring against me, then allow me to consult with my defenders before answering you: for if, contrary to all justice and law, I am forced to speak with someone with whom I should not speak on this issue, I will at least find out to what extent both duty and conscience oblige me to do so.” The prefect, not knowing what to do, postponed the interrogation, allowing her to consult with her defenders, and then ordered her to return to the bars. After some time she returned, as unshakable as before. The judge sentenced her to a significant fine and exile. Olympias agreed to this rather than receive communion from Arsas. The place of her exile was first appointed to Cyzicus, and then to Nicomedia, but since she had strong defenders at court, they were in no hurry to send her. Pentadia, of the deaconesses second in Chrysostom's affection for her, who said goodbye to him in the baptismal room along with Olympias, Salvina and Ampructa, was the second to be brought to the prefect. The widow of Consul Timatius was met here only with gross insults and cruelty. The letter that Chrysostom wrote later gives us a picture of what she had to endure then; it shows with what rage the court and its accomplices persecuted noble women, whose guilt, in addition to their invincible devotion to the archbishop, was their wealth and nobility. “Rejoice,” Chrysostom wrote to her, responding from the wilderness of his exile to the detailed news that she told him, “rejoice, because victory came easily to you; You embarrassed the shamelessness of wild animals and blocked their furious mouth. The truth for which you fought and in spite of which you were tormented, really has such power that one word is enough for it to triumph over the crafty slanderers, while the lie seeks in vain to hide under the treacherous canopy; it is weaker than a spider's web and falls and dissipates at the slightest breath of wind... What kind of intrigues did they not try against you? What weapons have not been set in motion to shake your soul, so strong, so courageous, so faithful to God? They dragged you, who knew nothing in the world except the Church and your room, to the forum, from the forum to the court, from the court to prison. They sharpened the tongues of false witnesses and, in order to terrify you, committed murders before your eyes. You saw streams of blood, adolescent bodies tormented by iron, burned by fire, famous faces covered with wounds and given over to torture; finally, there is not a single stone left that has not been moved in order to terrify you and force you, out of fear, to say the opposite of what you saw. Like an eagle soaring to the sky, you have torn apart their nets in order to reach these places of peace and freedom, where virtue finds satisfaction. Not only did they fail to pull you into their noose, but they themselves fell into it; This accusation of arson, raised against you by despicable and pathetic people, in the hope of their own triumph, only served to ensure that they themselves were convicted of slander through your lips. Think about what happened, about all the waves that lifted you, but did not have the power to carry you away and turn you into a playground of storms, about all the thunderstorms; who could not sink you and among whom your boat calmly sailed across the furious sea. Think about all this, but also look ahead, to that harbor that is not far away, and where many crowns are being prepared for you.” After Pentadia came the turn of Ampructa and other deaconesses or women enrolled in the Church, but history does not at all mention Salvina among those accused. Without a doubt, the court spared this daughter of the Moorish king, who had become a Roman through marriage to a relative of the great Theodosius, and, consequently, a relative of the reigning Emperor, from a shameful appearance in court. Many more women, less noble, suffered for a cause that they considered pleasing to God. Many were tortured, scourged, torn to pieces with iron hooks; some died on the machine or in prison. The new archbishop, for his part, declared war on the monasteries in order to force them to recognize themselves; all means of coercion were tried: threats, punishment, even hunger; intercepted food supplies, in the hope of subduing them with the torment of hunger. This way they achieved the obedience of many monks and nuns: what could these unfortunates do? Their submission was such a great victory for Arsas that the party hostile to Chrysostom celebrated it with self-praise. Olympias founded a nunnery in Constantinople, to which she devoted all her love and care. During the investigation over her, some poor girls, considering themselves abandoned, yielded to convictions or fear and made peace with the impostor; The Olympics never saw them again. At that time, there lived in Constantinople one girl, already very old, known to everyone and respected by everyone; she was a Bithynian, from a rich and noble family of Nicomedia, and her name was Nikareta, i.e. victorious virtue. Nikareta's virtue was charity. Having received a large inheritance, she distributed it, according to the word of the Gospel, for alms, for churches, for all kinds of charitable causes. To be able to fulfill this, she came to Constantinople, as the center of both poverty and splendor of the empire; She herself became a beggar there in order to be closer to the poor and better help them. Inspired by an almost superhuman kindness, she learned medicine and the preparation of medicines, turned her house into an apothecary laboratory, distributed medicines to poor patients, and for the most part brought them herself. She soon became a doctor of the people of Constantinople, who spoke with simple-hearted confidence: “Nicareta’s medicines always help.” One church historian who knew Nikareta reports that her conversation was sublime, filled with “the rules of Divine philosophy.” Many times they wanted to appoint Nikareta to the Church either as a deaconess, or as the head of some women’s hostel; she stubbornly refused, rejecting even the most lively insistence of Chrysostom. Secret almsgiving, known only to the poor and to God, is the calling to which she devoted herself. Prefect Optatus was so impudent that he ordered to find this holy virgin in her solitude in order to force her to renounce her rightful archbishop and accept communion from the hands of an impostor; he allowed himself the insolence, even more terrible, to punish her refusal with a large monetary penalty, and this meant taking away bread from the poor. But the ruined Nikareta also managed to be charitable: she organized her life together with her maids, eating and dressing like them, and by reducing her own expenses, she found a way to continue treating the sick and feeding the starving. Her charity was finally explained as incitement to rebellion, and Chrysostom's enemies banished her to Bithynia. All these events took place without the knowledge of Chrysostom, while he was dragged from one place to another - to the extreme limits of the empire. The lack of communication with friends, the unknown and, practically, the impossibility of correspondence were for him, perhaps, the most unbearable disasters of exile. Only through rumors did he learn during his journey about everything that he needed to know most of all: about the fate of his Church, his brothers, about his own fate, and when news came through letters, the events described in them had long been over and irreparable, or the news came to him completely unexpectedly, like lightning strikes. Given his temperament, this was mortal torment. When a rumor reached him between Chalcedon and Nicaea that Constantinople was busy replacing him with another person, he hastened to write to Olympias asking her to use all means to prevent the election, which could only be disastrous under the present circumstances. “If this election is made,” he wrote to her, “events will occur that are not only sad for me, but detrimental to the Church. Firstly, the one who will be my successor will be chosen by people who have no right to do so, who are already known to the Church as her persecutors; Moreover, it is obvious that these people have no intention of making good choices. Who can foresee, in the midst of general confusion of minds, the consequences of a bad choice? This letter, in addition to the worries that worried the exile, also reveals to us the moral influence that the deaconess Olympias had in ordinary times on the clergy, the people, and even at court; but things changed, and Chrysostom did not know this. The election of Arzas, when he later learned about it, filled his heart with intense indignation; he expresses this in a letter to one of his faithful, Bishop Kyriakos of Sinai. “They told me,” he writes, “what happened in the person of Arzas, this weak-minded idle man, who was elevated by the empress to my episcopal throne. I learned of the cruelties which this wicked man had inflicted upon our brethren who refused to associate with him, how many of them died in prison defending my cause. This is a wolf in sheep's clothing, an adulterer in the guise of a bishop; just as a woman is called an adulteress who, while her husband is alive, has a relationship with another, so Arzas is an adulterer, not in the flesh, but in the spirit, for I am alive, and he stole from me the Church, of which I am the husband.” In a letter to Olympias, all of whose grief he understood very well, he exhorts her not to lose heart at all from such events, for good deeds and good people undergo trials, the secret of which is known only to Providence. “Wasn’t Barabbas,” he writes to her, “preferred to Jesus? And when the Jewish people asked for the release of the thief and robber, did they not want the author of their own salvation to be crucified?” He wrote to her in another letter: “Do not be sad or broken-hearted because one Church is caught by fierce waves, another is shaken by a storm, a third is covered with unbearable wounds; that this Church received a wolf instead of a shepherd, and that Church received a sea robber instead of a helmsman, an executioner instead of a doctor; cry, mourn about this, but with restrained, strong, courageous grief, and do not forget, in view of God’s command, that there is nothing more destructive for the soul, more harmful to its salvation, than despair.” In reality, his heart was tormented, and any news of any betrayal of the Church on the part of one of his faithful burned Chrysostom like a hot iron. And he exhorted them from afar and wove heavenly crowns for them, like the mother of the Maccabees for her children. True, he said to the deaconesses at their last farewell in the baptismal chapel of St. Sophia: “Accept my successor, as if I were myself, so as not to divide the Church”; but he added at the same time: “If this successor takes my throne without intrigue and through the correct election of the people.” He never said and could not say: “Accept as myself, my enemy, an informer, or one of the treacherous judges who condemned me.” This would be, in a sense, to justify one's condemnation, and to doubt the rightness of one's cause to the point of denying it; in his eyes, as in the eyes of all truly Orthodox, his work was the work of God. Nicaea, to which Chrysostom arrived in the last days of June, gave him the calm he needed after such a tiring journey. The refreshing winds of Lake Askania little by little reduced the strength of the fever that consumed him; this big city offered him all the desirable methods of treatment, especially baths, which became a prime necessity for him. “The air of Nicaea restored me,” he wrote to Olympias. If he found health here, he did not find what he desired along with health - letters from his best friends, for example, from the priest Tigrius and especially from Olympias, his spiritual daughter, the tender confidante of his suffering, thanks to whom we know not only his actions, but also his most sincere thoughts in exile - from his departure from Constantinople until his death. The absence of letters bothered him; he didn't hide it. Either he accused his friends of indifference or, at least, of cruel negligence, or he imagined that they were sick or involved in his misfortune. He was indignant mainly at Olympias and could forgive her silence only if she was lying on her deathbed. Speaking about the friendship that connected Chrysostom with the Olympiad, we can say that never has a more lively and touching attachment existed between two beings brought together only by spiritual ties. It was one spirit in two bodies, or it was two similar souls, mutually subordinate to each other. These are the expressions of the greatest moral teacher, which he used when he wanted to define Christian love. Olympias's love was tender, and her devotion reached its extreme limits: strong to the point of heroism in her own suffering, she was weak to the point of the most cowardly loss of spirit before the suffering of the man who was her friend, and father, and heavenly leader, almost God. Chrysostom's love, energetic and powerful, supported Olympias in moments of weakness, like a tender plant that needs support. Managing this soul, devoted to him, was for Chrysostom one of the most precious and urgent duties. We will see that in the most difficult days of his exile, he devoted part of the leisure left to him by imprisonment to overcome her doubts in Providence with gentle admonitions and often cruel reproaches. His last two works are devoted to confirming that the persecution that befell him is a mercy sent from above, for which his friends should bless God, as he himself loves to do. He wrote both of these treatises, composed in the tower of the fortress, for the Olympiad. If Chrysostom did not receive the news from Constantinople that he wanted, then he received one thing that would have been better not to have happened at all. In Nicaea there was an imperial order, which his convoy and he himself were so impatiently awaiting: the Emperor appointed Kukuz, in Lesser Armenia, as the residence of the exiled man, and not Sebast in Greater Armenia, as Chrysostom wished. This was a cause of great distress for him. Kukuz was a poor town, lost in the depths of the wild Taurus Valley, at the intersection of the mountain ranges of Armenia and Cappadocia. Secular history does not even mention this town, but it had already received some fame in the history of the Church as the place of exile and burial of one Archbishop of Constantinople Paul, a martyr during the Arian persecution during the reign of Constantius - the choice of Eudoxia should have given it similar glory. Perhaps this memory or the undoubted equivalence of such a place to a dungeon struck him like thunder. He really hoped that his friends would beg Sebast for him, but they did nothing for him - they, so influential, so powerful when they wanted, and who boasted of their devotion to him; they did not deign to stretch out their hand to save him! They considered him already dead and abandoned him as if he were a corpse! All these gloomy thoughts besieged Chrysostom, and he fell into almost complete despondency, not so much about his own fate, but from the possibility of losing those he loved. He had to reproach himself for his injustice when he later learned the truth. The friends, whom he accused of indifference, used every means possible to extort from the Emperor his exile to Sebast, and the Emperor was ready to give in when the Empress intervened and demanded Kukuz. Apparently, Augusta’s rancor did not soften with the victory, because such a place of exile was a cruel intensification of punishment. Under the pressure of the same unjust suspicions, Chrysostom wrote a few weeks later to one Constantinople matron, Theodora: “Do not cease to shame those who have some affection for me, that, having so many friends, so rich, so significant, I could not, like some villain, achieve an exile less cruel and less distant.” He did not dare to pour out his sadness in equally bitter terms in the heart of Olympias, for fear of striking her with an accusation, most of which she could take personally - he did not have the courage to do so; The language in the letter he wrote to her, leaving Nicaea, is of a completely different kind. “Don’t be alarmed,” he writes to her, “that my friends could not get me another place of exile, which I asked for. I submitted to this and look at it as a blessing. Perhaps my friends wanted to help me, but they could not. Glory to the Lord in everything! I will never stop repeating these words, no matter what happens to me.” Moreover, in order to reassure her, he told Olympias comforting details about his situation, obviously exaggerated. “You must,” he wrote to her, “drive away any fear regarding my journey; my body seems to be stronger and healthier; the local air is very favorable for me, and those accompanying me make every effort imaginable to be useful to me, even more than I would like. I am sending you this letter at the moment of my departure from Nicaea on July 3rd. Write to me often about your health. In this regard, you can use the advice of my dear Pergamius, on whom I fully rely. But it is not enough that you inform me about the health of your body; I want to know more, I would like to know from you that the clouds of your sadness have dissipated. If you send me this good news, I will write to you more often and more extensively, confident that I will receive what I desire more than anything in the world - peace of your soul.” One of his first concerns during his stay in Nicaea was to write to his fellow exiles, priests, bishops and deacons, who, as we have seen, were stopped on the road by order of the prefect and detained at Chalcedon on charges of arson. He congratulates them on what they endure, and endure courageously - chains and prison, like the apostles once did, admonishing them to place their trust in God all the more, the more untruths and insults they experience from people. “I have no doubt at all,” adds the saint, “that your sufferings will even increase your value before God, who will give you even more strength to endure them... The apostles, burdened with chains, always remembered their mission in the depths of prisons, extending their care to the whole world; your concern also extends to the suffering of our Churches. Take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself to you to exercise your zeal and zeal, both through your own strength and through others who have greater freedom of action, neglect nothing in your behavior or in your words in order to tame the fierce storm. Such jealousy will bear good fruit, that is certain. If it were otherwise, God would reward you no less for your intentions and efforts.” This letter, where Chrysostom, as a consolation to people imprisoned for a serious charge, offers to take care of the disasters of the Church, gives a correct idea of ​​​​his state of mind. His fatigue, despondency, the very grief of exile to a small town on the outskirts of the empire - everything disappeared at the first thought of duty requiring the fulfillment of his duties. Then, having driven away, as Olympias also advised, the clouds of sadness that darkened his mind, the saint took up the feat with such fervor and clarity of spirit, as if he were still in Constantinople - in the midst of fulfilling his episcopal duties. This feat was nothing more or less than the religious conversion of Phenicia; he had given himself up to it five years ago, since his trip to Asia Minor - a trip that brought so much hatred upon him and was the beginning of his long-term disasters. During his trip to the Syrian province, he had the opportunity to observe the state of Phenicia in religious terms. Phenicia still remained a pagan country, despite attempts at conversion made at various times by the bishops of neighboring Churches; probably these attempts were not sincere at all; on the one hand, they were not favored by civil officials, who never liked to burden themselves with new worries and who, moreover, were not at all consumed by the zeal of Christian proselytism; on the other hand, the enterprise itself was difficult due to the stubborn disposition of the Phoenicians. This people really occupied too important a place in the mythological history of antiquity to be able to yield to a new religion without a fight. The fatherland of such great deities with which the pagan world was endowed, Phenicia clung to its cult as an integral part of its national essence. These reasons, together with the inaction of the civil authorities, led to the fact that the preaching of Christianity there was almost unsuccessful. In 399, Chrysostom attempted to awaken the indifference of government and clergy with a strong shock. Seeing the powerlessness of the white clergy or its laziness, he turned to the monks and sent a whole horde of them to this country. The fruit of these private successes was the building of a small number of churches and several monasteries, which turned out to be short-lived. The authorities, who were frightened by the power of the Archbishop of Constantinople, although his importance at court had already begun to waver, yielded to his suggestions and for a while came out of their stupor, but things did not go on like this for long. With the onset of disgrace for Chrysostom, his persecution at the Council in Duba, his first exile and the obvious disgust that the Empress and the Emperor’s favorite bishops expressed to him, his cause began to decline, and the second persecution ended him completely. The priests returned to their churches, and they were allowed to return there, but the churches were destroyed, and the monks were expelled from the entire province by a reverse course of affairs, in which, in all likelihood, hatred of Chrysostom had no small significance. The exile learned all this during his stay in Nicaea from priests who arrived from Syria or Asia Minor. His heart was excited. It occurred to him to resume the enterprise, taking advantage of the brief moments that this stop on the path of exile afforded him. He exhorted all the priests whom he managed to see, trying to convey to them at least a small share of the fire that was burning him. He even wrote to one of his Antiochian friends, the priest Constantius, to convert him into a second Chrysostom for the capital of Syria. This did not mean that in Constantia he would find an active missionary, an armed leader of preaching, who would both work himself and set an example for others; Chrysostom's friend did not possess such virtues, although he had many others, and, in addition, many faithful Orthodox Christians in Antioch ensured for him the succession of Archbishop Flavian, who had already reached the limits of old age. So, the work consisted in the direction of the task that Chrysostom entrusted to him, encouraging him to look for executors among the monks, promising him an abundance of money - in a word, everything that was needed for such an enterprise, as well as supplies for his small “army”, which, of course, they would try to drive away by starvation. The exile promised all this, without having a single obol himself, while in custody, on the eve of a distant journey, and yet he fulfilled all this. Thus, his word managed to move hearts and open wallets. He did more than that: the enterprise lacked a leader, he began to look for him - and found him. In the vicinity of Nicaea there lived a hermit who retired to a cave, where in a sense he walled himself up; he vowed to die there, as he said, far from activity and communication with people with whom he decisively broke off all relations. Chrysostom chose this hermit as leader to wage the Christian war in Phenicia. “Leave your mountains,” he wrote to him, “and leave there your fruitless inclination, which cannot serve either people or God. Take the staff and go, find the priest Constantius in Antioch and enter into an agreement with him to overthrow the idols in Phenicia; he will supply you with everything that will be necessary for your holy army.” The recluse hesitated. Chrysostom wrote him an angry letter this time - and he left. Meanwhile, the time for rest has passed; the exile was to set off again with his convoy, on the 5th or 6th of July, towards Caesarea in Cappadocia. When leaving Nicaea, he sent his dear daughter Olympias a letter, with which he tried to reassure her regarding the state of his spirit and health: “As my trials increase, my consolations also increase, and I cherish the most pleasant hopes for the future. Everything seems to be favoring me now, the wind is blowing fair. Who saw this? Who expected this? Rocks and reefs hidden under water, whirlpools and sea currents colliding with noise, moonless nights, thick fog, death, dangers... and yet, sailing on such a sea, we see ourselves in a position no worse than those who quietly sway on the waters of the harbor. Think about this for your part, most pious wife, rise above these worries and this confusion and notify me about your health, I ask you to do so. As for me, I feel truly good and even cheerful, because my body is stronger, and the air I breathe is clean... I lack one thing - reliable information that your health has not suffered. Let me know about this, so that I may rejoice again and be able to thank my lord and good son Pergamius for this. If you want to write to me, entrust your letters to him, for he is a faithful friend who is sincerely attached to me and who more than anyone else honors your virtue and your piety.” The route from Nicaea to Caesarea lay through Phrygia and part of Cappadocia. After leaving Nicaea, at some distance from this city, he passed along the river Sangaria, up its course, and with it reached both Phrygian provinces, called Galatia. Near the river, the country, although poor, was still comfortable for life, but, going deeper inside, the traveler encountered nothing but endless plains, black and resinous land, like ash, covered with withered and skinny meadows. All that was visible to his eyes were sparse settlements and huge herds of sheep under the supervision of several shepherds. Since the instructions that the convoy followed prescribed to avoid cities, they stopped only in villages, where only dry and moldy bread could be found, which had to be soaked in water; Moreover, this water, obtained from deep wells, was brackish, capable of exciting thirst rather than quenching it. On the way, suffering reached its extreme limits, and the fever again took possession of Chrysostom, never to leave him. There is a hot sun above your head, under your feet there is dust, almost as hot, and from nowhere there is not a breath of wind, not a tree that would provide at least some shade. But this was not enough: the anger of people exceeded the anger of heaven. While Chrysostom was passing through the second Galatia, through the territory of the diocese of Pisinunta, whose bishop Demetrius was disposed towards him and even, at that time, was working in Italy to defend his cause, he met a population that did not show any unfriendliness towards him. Something completely different awaited him in Upper Galatia, in the diocese of Ancyra. The Archbishop of this city, Leontius, was one of the fiercest enemies of Archbishop John and a speaker who especially strongly supported the validity of the Antiochian decrees at the last Council. He won, but this victory did not soften him at all. When moving through the villages of his department, Chrysostom was exposed, it seems, to the most severe dangers. What happened then and what intrigues does history mention? Did the population, excited by their bishop, carry out any violence against Chrysostom, or threaten him with death? Did Leonty personally take part in these violence and threats? Unknown. However, one word from Chrysostom himself makes us assume that the danger was great and that, “escaping from Galata,” as he writes to Olympias, he could welcome the land of his liberation to Cappadocia. And indeed, there he saw a completely different sight. These were no longer gangs of rabid enemies, ready to rush at him with offended cries; The respectful population, devoted to him, waited for him on the way or ran in crowds to meet him. There were men and women of all conditions, monks, virgins, hermits who had left their mountains - they all mourned with tears the situation in which they found it. The following words were heard: “It would be better if the sun deprived the earth of its light than to see these golden lips doomed to silence.” Chrysostom tried to console them, but when he told them: “Don’t cry for me like that,” their tears flowed even more abundantly. However, one circumstance struck him and made him think. When he reached Caesarea, some people approached his stretcher and repeated to him several times: “Father Faretrius is waiting for you; he hurries along the road to meet you, because he wants nothing more than to see and hug you. He even gathers the city’s monks to give you a ceremonial welcome.” These words involuntarily worried Chrysostom. And indeed, Archbishop Faretrius of Caesarea was the same one who, not daring to appear at the Council of Constantinople to accuse John obviously out of fear of the people, declared to the court that he would sign in advance everything that would be decided against Chrysostom. Evil no less than Leontius, Faretrius was more hypocritical and cowardly, capable of any crime, as long as it was committed in darkness and safety; the first had the courage of a robber, the second - the cunning of a poisoner. The route intended for the exile to Kukuz through Caesarea greatly annoyed Pharethria and embarrassed him, because to treat Chrysostom badly meant not to please his clergy, who almost entirely consisted of Johannites, and to reveal the mask of “condolence” that he wore after the announcement of the decree on Chrysostom’s exile. To treat him well meant exposing yourself to the vengeance of the empress and losing all the merits of your baseness. So, he maneuvered, waiting for some opportunity that would get him out of his difficulty and free him from this inconvenient guest. He was not at the city gates, despite prior notice, and he did not invite Chrysostom to stay at the archbishop's palace. Chrysostom, understanding very well what such behavior meant, accepted the premises offered to him on the very edge of Caesarea. “There awaited him the chosen society of the city, the authorities, citizens, scholars and monks, to welcome him. The archbishop's clergy seemed to be all present, but the bishop was not there. Chrysostom, exhausted by fatigue, burned by an attack of fever, needed rest more than greetings, and doctors more than visitors. Among those present, two, Gymnetius and Theodore, hastened to surround him with the most attentive care, in a word, they declared themselves to be noble people in relation to him, warmly disposed towards him. One of them even offered to accompany him to Kukuz. “Their tender compassion,” he writes, “has helped me as much as their medicine.” The exile breathed more freely. In his friendly outpourings of childish joy, he compares the suffering suffered during the journey with the calmness, the first sweetness of which he feels. “No,” he exclaims in one letter to Theodora, of course, with less caution than he would have taken if he had written for the Olympics, “convicts and prisoners do not experience what I have endured and still endure from time to time... Struck by constant attacks of fever and forced to travel day and night, tormented by the heat and the need for sleep, I did not have the most necessary items and no one who could provide assistance in these deprivation... Finally, I am in Caesarea, like a sailor in a harbor after a storm. But the tranquility of this pier is powerless to compensate for all the evil the storm caused me - so the previous days crushed me. In Caesarea I somewhat revived, I drank clean water here, ate bread that was not dry or musty, I was no longer forced to squash in the barrels, and could go to bed. I could add one more thing, but I’ll limit myself to this so as not to excite you more...” The news that Chrysostom received in Caesarea lifted the lid on the events in Constantinople quite a bit for him. A friend who arrived from the capital told him a little more. Chrysostom learned with bitterness that he did not bring him letters either from Bishop Cyriacus, or from Tigrius, or even from Olympias. The information he received was already quite late and could not convey anything about what he most wanted to know. What became of so many friends who, having so much to tell him, remained silent? Two days later, he wrote to Olympias, meekly reproaching her: “I have already written many letters to you about what concerns me, but yours are very rare. Does this depend on the difficulty of finding persons who would deliver them? I answer - no, for the brother of Blessed Maximus visited me two days ago and when I asked if there were any letters to me, he answered that he had no letters either from you, or from Tigrius, or from Bishop Cyriacus and other Chalcedonian prisoners. If you know anything about their fate, try to tell me. As for me, I feel good and still enjoy complete peace and complete clarity of spirit. Do not reproach my friends for not being able to arrange for a change in my location. Let's assume that they did everything and were not successful, let's assume that they couldn't see me: is it still necessary to assume that they couldn't even write to me? Witness my gratitude to the venerable wives - the sisters of the most worthy Pergamos - for the unflagging jealousy they show towards me. And in fact, I owe them the excellent disposition that his son-in-law, the military leader of the local province, showed towards me, so that, despite his important responsibilities, he was going to visit me here.” Even from this letter it is clear that his soul was not nearly as calm as he wanted to assure his spiritual daughter. At times it seemed to Chrysostom that they had forgotten about him, meanwhile, his friends themselves suffered for him. But at the first sign of affection, the clouds of sadness dissipated, leaving only the joyful feeling of friendship. Such was the state of this tormented and trusting soul until the very end of the exile. However, in Kukuza, many letters awaited him with news, more accurate and detailed, about persons and events - letters that fully rewarded him for the hardships experienced during the journey. Rest, healing air, the good reception that the Caesareans gave him quickly improved his condition, and the care of Gymnetius and Theodore finally put him on his feet. “They were,” he wrote, “very learned doctors with devoted hearts.” When the news that Chrysostom would live in Kukuza reached Armenia, one rich resident of this country, named Dioscorus, who had his own house in this city, hastened to offer it to the saint and sent his steward to meet him, to Caesarea itself. Meanwhile, the influx of visitors did not stop. The first authorities of the city seemed to consider it their duty to come to him, and the clergy formed a small court around him, in which only their bishop was missing. Chrysostom heard rumors that the mood of this inhospitable brother of his became day by day more hostile and malevolent, as his guest’s stay continued. He did not like everything about this presence of the prisoner, especially the courtesy with which high-ranking persons surrounded him, and the solicitude of his clergy, in which the bishop did not fail to see a poisonous condemnation of his own behavior. He got it into his head that at court he might be suspected of complicity in these general expressions of sympathy for Chrysostom, which directly concerned Augusta - this thought made him tremble, and fear made Faretrius cruel and aroused low feelings in him. Therefore, he impatiently counted the days that passed without new events. Finally, his heart was relieved when he learned that the departure was scheduled for one of the very close days and that the convoy was busy with preparations for departure. Chrysostom had already completed most of his journey, because he had only a little more than 200 kilometers left to Kukuz, but this upcoming journey was the most painful. The road, which passed through the harsh valleys through the Taurus, was fraught for such a weak traveler with obstacles and difficulties of a completely different kind than those that he had previously experienced. Moreover, they said that the road now ahead of him was at that time flooded with Isaurian gangs. This last circumstance, which did not at all soften the Archbishop of Caesarea, seemed only to induce him more strongly to desire the immediate departure of Chrysostom. Finally, everything was ready and the convoy was about to set off, when suddenly news spread that a party of Isaurians had appeared almost in sight of the city, was devastating the valley, mowing down the ripe grain, taking the peasants to the mountains; They also reported that they had just burned one of the large villages in the district. In all of Caesarea the only cry that could be heard was: “To arms!” Now, by the way, tell us who these Isaurians were, whom we will often mention below. Isauria rises above the labyrinth of mountains, the intersection of which forms the provinces of Cilicia, Armia and Cappadocia. From afar, its snowy peaks dominate the Taurus and Antitaurus mountain ranges, like the walls of a huge fortress. This place, protected by terrible hollows and long winters, seems to have been intended by nature itself to serve as a nest for a robber tribe, and this is precisely how the Isaurians appear from the very first pages of history. During the era of the Phrygian and Persian dynasties, as well as under the successors of Alexander, the Isaurians were a thunderstorm in Asia Minor: either in alliance with the Cilicians they devastated the seas of Cilicia and Greece with entire fleets of sea robbers, then, following the direction of their mountains, they launched raids by land - all the way to the cities of Pontus Euxine. During the decline of the Roman Republic, Servilius defeated them and boasted the nickname of the Isaurian; Pompey inflicted another defeat on them - at sea. The Empire held them back, but did not conquer them. Every time in the East the indignation of some provinces or legions disturbed public peace, the Isaurians immediately intensified the disasters of the internecine war with their raids. To weaken these ferocious hordes, Probus came up with the following remedy: having taken their mountain passes from the battle, he removed some of the inhabitants from there and resettled them to uninhabited spaces at the foot of the Caucasus, but left the women, settling Roman soldiers with them, but did not achieve his goal. The severity of nature and the unfavorable properties of the climate prevailed. The sons of Roman veterans who married Isaurian women became true Isaurians, as independent, as predatory and formidable as their ancestors. Then they decided to surround the country with a belt of garrisons and increase the strength of neighboring cities. At the time we are talking about, the Isaurian fortresses were occupied by 2,700 infantry soldiers and several squadrons of cavalry. These forces were sufficient to maintain peace under the great Theodosius, but the weakness of his sons, the invasion of the Huns from the Caucasus, called by Rufinus, then the unrest caused by church unrest, which was constantly increasing in these provinces, gave courage to the Isaurians, who were always waiting for an opportunity. They tried to resume raids from Cilicia and all the way to Syria. Their mere appearance in any place was enough to spread horror everywhere, and all the way, starting from Nicaea, Chrysostom heard about the Isaurians. However, he hoped to avoid them and reach his future home in Kukuza before the gangs, which until that time had stayed to the west and south, changed the direction of their devastating raids. When shouting: “To arms! Isaurians! - all the inhabitants of Caesarea, both old and young, rushed to the ramparts of the city. The garrison, led by a tribune, made a sortie against the gangs scattered throughout the valley; before sunset, these brave and dexterous warriors cleared everything and drove the predators into the mountains. This day was full of anxiety for the city: hasty measures were taken, because everyone was sure that the predators that appeared constituted only the vanguard of a more significant army. For its part, Chrysostom’s convoy completed preparations and wanted to set off, but the archbishop felt an increase in fever, and other circumstances were not very conducive to continuing the journey. It was decided to stay here for a few more days. The night passed peacefully. The next morning, at dawn, a terrible noise was heard in the block where the exile was staying, and just in front of his house. This commotion was caused by a crowd of several hundred monks, armed with stones and sticks, who came to break down the doors to the visitor’s premises, drag him out along with his guards and force them to immediately leave Caesarea. They screamed terribly and threatened to burn them alive along with the house if they did not go. The Praetorians stood courageously and defended the exit, but the monks shouted to them that they were not afraid, that they had beaten many of them, and waved sticks with insulting threats. In vain the officers of the convoy tried to enter into negotiations, to explain that the exile was sick and could barely move, and that, moreover, the Isaurians were occupying the road along which they should follow. The monks interrupted them with loud shouts: “Let him go, let him go!” Having learned what was happening, the prefect of the city of Carterius hurried to the house occupied by Chrysostom to help him, followed by several noble persons. Having made sure that the real instigator of the chaos was the Bishop of Caesarea and that all these people were only carrying out his orders, the prefect proposed to go to him and show him that it was impossible to treat a visitor to the city in such a way and expose a weak and weakened old man to certain death. He said that he hoped to receive at least two days from Faretri, but none of those around Chrysostom believed this. Meanwhile, the intervention of the prefect produced something like a truce, and the monks returned to their monastery. In the evening, Chrysostom sent to the priests, who visited him more often than others and showed him their affection the most, and asked them to see him. Not one showed up. They all “turned out to be absent” - fear stopped them. The next day the story resumed with signs even more threatening than the day before; in the evening the monks replenished their ranks with new accomplices and appeared again. Then the officers said to Chrysostom: “We are too few to resist... we will only die shamefully. It is better to boldly meet the gangs of the Isaurians than to remain in the power of these scoundrels. We conjure you, Holy Father, to set off immediately.” Chrysostom ordered the mule that carried his stretcher to be prepared, and they set off. It was noon. An irritated crowd, shouting curses at the bishop, filled the streets along which they passed. Outside the city gates, Chrysostom saw many priests who came out there to secretly tell him the last “forgiveness.” One of them, approaching the stretcher, said to him: “Hurry, because your life is in danger, surrender, if necessary, into the hands of the Isaurians, just to avoid our power; everything is better than what’s happening here.” While this priest was speaking with Chrysostom, a certain Caesarea matron, named Seleucia, whom he had seen several times, came to invite the exile to stay at her villa, only five miles away on his way. She said that he could spend the night there and rest, taking advantage of all the amenities, that the Isaurians had already left and would not be heard from again, and as for the monks, they, of course, would not dare to go there. Chrysostom, feeling bouts of fever, accepted her invitation. The servants accompanying the matron were ordered to lead the convoy to the villa, and Seleucia turned back to Caesarea. The Villa of Seleucia was an extensive summer residence and consisted of a country house and the dwellings of farmers and tenants, located around a large castle. This castle, a kind of fortress, served both for the private life of the owners and as a refuge for everyone in case of danger. The manager offered Chrysostom to stay in it, but he refused, confident that he would be completely safe in the house, according to Seleucia herself. However, the hostess soon returned, no longer showing the same confidence, because, without saying a word to the guests, she ordered the manager to arm his servants and farmers to repel a possible night attack by the monks. The manager carried out this order without saying anything about it to Chrysostom. Meanwhile, this is what happened during this period of time. As soon as Seleucia returned to Caesarea, Pharethrius, having learned what she had done, called her to him, reproached her and with strong threats demanded that she immediately drive out the guest whom she had accepted under her roof. The matron was indignant at such an order from Faretrius and hurried to the villa to take the measures that we spoke about above, but the bishop again urgently demanded her, and she returned. It is not known what happened during this second meeting and whether Faretrius frightened this woman by assuring her that she was becoming involved in a conspiracy against the Empress and the Emperor, only she now left him in fright and decided to obey. The second half of the night had arrived, and Chrysostom was beginning to gradually fall asleep, when Evetius, the priest who had accompanied him from Caesarea, suddenly ran into his room and, waking him up suddenly, said: “Get up, get up, I beg you, the Isaurians are coming!” Before Chrysostom had time to come to his senses and ask him what was the matter, Evetius grabbed all the exile’s things and dragged him away. The convoy was already on its feet, and the mule was saddled. Apart from them, there was not a single soul there. The house of Seleucia was in terrible commotion, some were arming themselves, others were hiding, all that was heard was about the Isaurians. The convoy was left to its own devices and got itself a guide as best it could. The night was moonless and so dark that nothing could be seen a few steps away. Chrysostom ordered the torches to be lit, Evetius ran to extinguish them, saying that they would only attract predators. The guide, fearing, apparently, the same thing, led them along a roundabout path that led out onto the main road, but was an uneven path carved into the rock, along which movement was very difficult - one could only move along it by touch, stones rolled down from under their feet every minute. Chrysostom's mule stumbled and fell to his knees. The shock threw the archbishop off, and he prostrated himself on the ground without moving. Finally, Chrysostom came to his senses and, supported, or rather, drawn by the hands of the priest, tried to walk, in his own expression, “crawl,” because they both did not know where to step and did not see the path. Chrysostom, despondent, wanted to return to the city, where, as he said, both his companions and himself would not face a disaster worse than what they could encounter from the Isaurians. But he was calmed down, and he finally sat down on the stretcher. The Isaurians did not show up, and the procession continued its “journey” along a steep slope, past abysses and streams, of course, with great difficulty, but without adventures worthy of mention. Finally, 70 days after leaving Constantinople, Chrysostom reached Kukuz. Faretry triumphed! He could write to the court that the holy fathers of the Caesarea monasteries, not being able to see the enemy of the empress, drove the exile out of their city, forcing him to flee in the middle of the night. He hoped that he would soon be able to add that the right hand of God, for the complete punishment of Chrysostom, delivered him into the hands of the Isaurians, who killed him or took him captive to their caves. The Empress, of course, would have appreciated the merits of the bishop, who would have freed Eudoxia from the very shadow of her enemy. This ill-fated night etched its terrifying features into the imagination of Chrysostom. He did not like to remember her, and when he was forced to do so, he spoke with caution, revealing traces of the horror he had experienced. The saint wrote to Olympias a story full of sincere, friendly outpourings about this night, which we followed in our narrative, but at the same time he advised his most kind and pious deaconess to keep all this to herself, although the soldiers of the convoy could spread this news throughout the city, because they themselves had escaped the greatest danger. “Let them do as they please,” he added, “it doesn’t concern me. I only wish that they would not hear about these things from you and that you would even stop those who would want to talk to you about it.” This precaution shows his heartfelt solicitude: pointing out that the Caesarian clergy generally expressed affection for him, he calls for silence for fear that many members of this clergy, who were currently in Constantinople, would be subject to some kind of condemnation for the criminal actions of their bishop, which would be unjust in all respects. He even tried to weaken the completely legitimate indignation that Faretrius’ behavior caused, excusing it as a weakness of character. However, in this letter to the Olympiad, one word escaped his mouth, which makes one shudder, having been written by such a person as Chrysostom. “I am now in Kukuza,” he writes to her, “respected by everyone and out of danger: do not be afraid of the Isaurians in relation to me, whom winter has imprisoned in their holes; I myself fear no one as much as bishops, with the exception of a few.” While the true shepherd of the Church, the legitimate archbishop of all faithful Orthodox, was approaching the place of his imprisonment with all sorts of dangers, the false shepherd, the impostor Arzas, brought upon these faithful the burden of all strictures - ecclesiastical and civil. Despite Optat’s bitterness and his ferocious art, the search for the arson case did not lead to anything, they could not get a confession from anyone, and Arkady, tired of so many useless cruelties, finally relented. Two months after the start of the investigation, on August 29, 404, he issued a decree in which the futility of all legal proceedings was openly recognized and which opened the doors of the dungeons to prisoners. So, the bishops, clergy, monks and laity, imprisoned on this charge, were released, but on the condition that they leave the capital and go to their private homes, as if into exile. Such was the fate of Eulysius, Cyriacus, as well as the clergy of Constantinople, who were companions of Chrysostom, detained with him on the way to Nicaea and then sent from one prison to another. The decree on their release was thus a sentence to exile for them. The joy caused by this decree in the ranks of the Johannites did not last long, because another decree, dated September 11, served as the beginning of the persecution of the “schismatics” - a persecution no less cruel and unfair than the first. Two ecclesiastical crimes, schism and heresy, were included in Roman laws under Christian emperors. The law called schism separation from the official Church recognized by the Sovereign, while heresy was the acceptance of a confession of faith other than the confession accepted by the Sovereign. This did not prevent, in the eyes of the Church and by virtue of the canons, the words “schism” and “heresy” from being assigned a meaning very different from the one given to them by the law. Thus, in this particular case, the schismatics, as the law understood them, did not turn out to be schismatics in the eyes of the Church, at least of that minority that defended hierarchical law and the rules of discipline, a minority supported in the West by the Roman Church and a large number of Western bishops. For the supporters of Chrysostom, the Church of Arsas was a schism; for the supporters of Arsas, the schism was among the Johannites and in their congregations. So, the words “schism” and “schismatic” were used to refer to both sides, but not only the Emperor was against the Johannites, but also the law: the party, which they called schismatic, showed them this by applying the decree of September 11, 404. History testifies that Arzas himself solicited the Emperor to use strict measures, seeing that his churches were almost empty and that the Orthodox of Constantinople stubbornly gathered in separate congregations. The soldiers were sent “to hunt” for the Johannites in the forests, mountains and abandoned buildings of the Constantinople district. Meetings were dispersed with stones and sticks, the wooden circus was seized twice, private homes were forcibly invaded in order to convict priests and believers of breaking the law. Summons to court, conclusions, interrogations followed - with the aim of revealing accomplices. The thing that most repelled the Ioannites from drawing closer to those whom they called schismatics was the obligatory utterance of a curse on Chrysostom, which was required of them upon entering the church. The Johannites preferred chains, prison, and torture to such violence. If they were not subjected to physical torture, then they were forced to pay such penalties that they were ruined. They went so far as to order entire corporations to pay penalties if one of their members was caught in prohibited gatherings, thus involving them in upholding the law. All these unjust and cruel measures, taken at the insistence of Arzas, fully justified the expressions of the exile when he wrote that the government of the Church was entrusted to a wolf instead of a shepherd, to a sea robber instead of a helmsman, and that the health of souls was entrusted not to a doctor, but to an executioner. However, the persecution did not last long, or Arzas took less and less direct part in it. As a matter of fact, this old man was not born for persecution, he lacked either the energy or passion necessary to be Herod or Nero. He was simply an unscrupulous ambitious, and when he was convinced that he had paid the empress enough for his bishopric, he wished to enjoy it and rest. In vain did Acacius, Antiochus, Severian and other “conspirators and sycophants of John” (the name they well deserved) encourage and reproach him - he listened to them, but did nothing. Some church writers even praise his meekness, as if selfish weakness and inactivity could be called virtue. Antiochus and his allies came up with a plan that was supposed to subordinate all the eastern bishops to them: the establishment of a triumvirate - the patriarchs of Alexandria, Antioch and Constantinople, vested in the name of the Emperor with full power over the other Churches. Arkady gave his consent to this. They told him that the implementation of this plan would cover the Johannites of all provinces with one network, and thus the “schism” would be suppressed. Seeing that they had to start the business with the help of such a sluggish person as Arzas, the conspirators abandoned their enterprise, postponing it until a more favorable time. So, Arzas found himself between two fires - between the Johannites and the anti-Johnnites. If the first found that he had “the verbosity of a fish” and “the oratorical heat of a frog,” although, however, a fish that is silent still worries and swims, then the second called him, venting their anger, “an old rotten stump” and “a club.” However, during the bishopric of this “club” an important event occurred: on October 6, three and a half months after the expulsion of Chrysostom, the empress died. She breathed her last in unspeakable suffering, giving birth to a stillborn baby. They said that the child stopped living three days before the birth and began to decompose. No human art could free the mother, so in a fit of despair she resorted to supernatural means. A sorcerer called to the palace placed some magic letters on her stomach, which, they said, had the power to bring out the baby, but the mother died at that very moment. Four months earlier, this event would have shocked the entire empire and, perhaps, would have changed the position of the Eastern Church. Now, when the events had already taken place, Chrysostom was exiled, his enemies took possession of all church places, the general unrest barely made itself felt. The court bishops took pity on Eudoxia, but only her husband cried for her. The weak Arkady, accustomed to wearing her yoke, could not get used to the idea of ​​not being led, but he found among the tyrants around him those who knew how to continue the work in the spirit of Eudoxia. In the eyes of the people, this death, so unexpected, so coinciding with the exile of Archbishop John and marked with such a tragic seal, was God's punishment. The strange coincidence of other events, apparently in natural connection with the first, gave everything that happened the likelihood of Predestination or Heavenly justice. Over the course of several months, death or strange illnesses struck many of those who persecuted Chrysostom or participated in his condemnation. The Johannites loved to cite these facts as evidence of the holy correctness of their cause, and others listened to them not without secret horror. Palladius, the biographer and friend of Chrysostom, devoted a large section in his Dialogues, and history does not deny the nature of the supernatural in them. Thus, one of the bishops who mercilessly condemned Chrysostom at the Council of Constantinople died soon after, falling from a horse, another, having contracted purulent dropsy, was eaten alive by worms, the third, having contracted malignant erysipelas, died suffering from terrible itching. Another, also one of the accusers and slanderers, was stricken with such a swelling of his tongue that he could hardly breathe, and before he was finally “strangled by illness”, he wrote in his notebook for public information that he was undergoing punishment for his crime. There were also various other cases of the same kind. Without a doubt, the most important of these was the death of Cyrinus of Chalcedon. This bishop declared himself a bitter enemy of Chrysostom even earlier than the persecution itself began. Being an Egyptian and a creature of Theophilus, he seemed to burn with all the passions of the Patriarch of Alexandria. At a conference that he had with several other bishops before the Council of Duba, this unbridled and then especially excited man had a collision with Marutas, the bishop of Mesopotamia, who pressed hard on his leg. The wound ached, despite all the medicine, but did not prevent him from going to plot intrigues at the Council of Constantinople; he was even one of those four or five bishops who, in order to convince the Emperor, took upon themselves responsibility for the deposition of Chrysostom. After the Council, Kirin got worse and worse: the “Antonov fire” flared up in his leg, the foot had to be taken away, then the disease spread throughout the entire leg, which also had to be taken away, then the same thing happened with the other leg. Gangrene spread to the intestines, and Kirin died in severe agony. “Here,” exclaimed Palladius and other church historians, “here is the responsibility taken by Kirin!” It was as if an invisible scourge consistently struck Constantinople and its inhabitants, which finally horrified the Emperor. Earthquakes constantly occurred in the city, so strong that the chroniclers considered it their duty to mention them. At the same time, storms followed one another at short intervals; Each time lightning struck the city wall, a hail of extraordinary size destroyed the harvest for several miles around. This was enough to convince the Emperor that the wrath of heaven had indeed broken out upon him and his subjects, and he wrote to a hermit of universal sanctity who lived in Sinai, asking for his prayers, which were said to be omnipotent before God. This hermit was called Nile, and the Church still honors him under the name of Saint Nile. Saint Nile was not always a poor monk hidden in the wilderness of the desert. He once shone at the court of the great Theodosius with wealth, grace, beauty, a direct and noble mind, which earned him the nickname of the Wise. A true connoisseur of these rare virtues, Theodosius entrusted him with important positions and, among other things, the praetorian prefecture in the East. Nile married a young woman whom he loved and had two sons from her. So gifted with everything that is so sought after in the world, one morning he laid aside all honors, said goodbye to his wife and left, taking with him one of his sons. Where did he go? He went in search of spiritual peace, which the light did not bring him, and decided to dedicate his son to God on some secluded mountain, like Patriarch Abraham had once been sent to the land of Moriah, but he waited for Heaven itself to appoint him a location. He did not like the deserts of Egypt and Syria, they were too populated by monks and close to cities - he stopped only in the Arabian desert, on one of the slopes of Mount Sinai. He found several hermits there living alone in caves, united them, attracted new ones, and with the money left over from his wealth, built a church and monastery in a place called Bush, because it was here that God appeared to Moses in a burning bush. The monastery wished to have Nile as its abbot. In his new position, the former praetorian prefect was distinguished by a strict life, which was combined in him with extensive secular knowledge and a deep knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, so that Nile soon became, one might say, a prophet for the monks of his time. He was insightful and ready to help everyone. They said that God himself gave him the gift of prophecy along with the power to perform miracles and never refused his prayers. Arcadius, who had known him as a child at his father's court, ran to him with the hope that he would avert the wrath of God hanging over himself and his capital, but Nile refused to pray for him. “How do you want,” he answered with all the freedom of a saint, “for me to dare to pray for the city, which by so many atrocities has earned the justice of God that threatens it, where the crime rests on the power of the law - for the city that expelled blessed John, the pillar of the Church, the lamp of truth, the trumpet of the Lord! You ask me to pray for this city, but you are addressing your request to a soul too depressed by grief from the excess of suffering it has caused.” In another letter, Neil wrote to him: “You expelled John, the greatest light of the world, without any reason and as a result of too easy concession to the evil advice of some crazy bishops.” Arkady did not repent. The “scourges” of nature calmed down, and the Emperor, with his usual carelessness, again surrendered to the flow of circumstances, finding the evil advice of flatterers sweeter than the harsh words heard from Sinai. Under the influence of these new rulers, he even forgot the dominion of Eudoxia. There was no more persecution, but the spirit of persecution, feelings of envy and malice still existed and, as before, attracted the weak Emperor along the path to which he had been pushed. Meanwhile, on November 1, 405, in the 16th month of his episcopate and in the 82nd year of his life, Arzas also died, leaving the archbishop's throne in Constantinople not occupied again after the departure of Chrysostom. Arsas was not mourned: his persecution at the beginning and inactivity in the subsequent time did not earn him tears either from Chrysostom’s supporters or from his enemies. We have the following judgment of his contemporaries about him: “So, Arzas died after serving 16 months on the episcopal throne, without completing the work of a living person, timid and numb by nature, or, rather, he no longer existed for a long time when death visited him. Oh shame!.. Which successor, and after whom? An old stump, with which, by the highest arbitrariness, a strong and flowering branch was replaced, an old man of 80 years old, for whom it would be more fitting to sit by a grave than on a throne, a madman and a fool, most absurd when he spoke, dull when he wanted to think, more like a stone, like a block of wood than a living creature, fit only to spend his life in the corner of a room or in bed, useless to himself and others and unworthy of regret. This was Arzas, and this is how he left this world.” It is not known whether Severian or anyone else from the union of informers against St. John was elected by the people and clergy; history only mentions that there were many applicants and their struggle was so fierce that for four months the archbishop's throne was not replaced. After this time, the choice fell on one Constantinople priest, who had repeatedly testified falsely against the legitimate bishop at the Council of Duba. Too many of the clergy had stained themselves during the recent strife, and hostile feelings were too strongly expressed for there to be any hope of electing a Johnnite or a person more or less suspected of being a Johnnite. The new chosen one, named Atticus, was an Armenian, originally from Sebaste, where he spent his childhood among the followers of the Macedonian heresy, who there maintained, in the words of one church writer, “a shop of their philosophy.” Having reached adulthood, this Armenian left his homeland, came to Constantinople and easily succumbed to conversion to Orthodoxy, not so much out of conviction as out of calculation, if you believe the same historian. He soon accepted the priesthood, and the then Archbishop Nektarios kept him with his Church. The young follower Macedonius, attracted by the intricacies of his monastery's reasoning about the properties of the Holy Spirit and his place in the Holy Trinity, greatly neglected the sciences and was recognized among his brethren as an ignoramus. Moreover, he brought out of Sebast a terrible Armenian pronunciation, which could have disfigured the most eloquent speech. These shortcomings upset him to such an extent that he did not dare to speak without preparation and learned his sermons by heart. (There was no cursive writer to write them down.) As a determined man, Atticus took energetic measures to correct and decided, in turn, to ridicule his detractors. Retiring into complete solitude, he began to study day and night, in secret from everyone, the great examples of Hellenic literature and, through efforts on himself, to correct his Armenian pronunciation. Then one day he appeared again in the company of his brothers, speaking with more knowledge than they about Aristotle and Plato, and could already well have been mistaken for an Athenian. Everyone bowed before this iron will, and from then on Atticus was respected, although more as a man of action than as a man of knowledge. He was one of the leaders of the last intrigues against Saint John, and this is what brought him the support of the court bishops during his election. Elected at the end of February 406, he was elevated to the rank of archbishop, just like Arsas, in the Church of the Holy Apostles, which served as the cathedral while the Church of Hagia Sophia was little by little restored from its ruins. The Union of Chrysostom's persecutors decided that the time had come to return to the great plan of the universal subordination of the Eastern Churches to the triumvirate. Now is the time to explain what this plan was. The schism, the emergence of which we saw in Constantinople, after the second condemnation of Chrysostom penetrated into neighboring dioceses, and then into all provinces, and each Church now had its own party of Johannites, which maintained relations with the exiled archbishop, and its own party of anti-Johnnites, which accepted communication with the impostor archbishop. Both parties fought there with each other, as in Constantinople, but with a redoubled force inherent in the Asian and Syrian temperament. Especially in Syria, the homeland of John Chrysostom, whose misfortune now occupied the world as his genius once did, the cause of the Johannites had ardent supporters among bishops and clergy, and mainly among the masses. Therefore, the persecutors rightly said that to suppress what they called a schism only in Constantinople, leaving it to develop in other places, meant winning only half the victory, and they invented the following means of eradicating it throughout the empire. They proposed to the Emperor to establish for religious communication the three most important patriarchates of the East - three centers to which all the bishops of a certain district were to join - under the threat of deposition and expulsion. The three patriarchs were, moreover, invested with the authority by virtue of which they could themselves appoint bishops instead of those who persisted. Their rights even extended to the right to form city clergy, and any resistance was punished by excommunication and punitive civil measures - in a word, the suffrage of the Churches was abolished. The limits of power of these rulers captured, in addition to the space of the archbishop's possessions, some additional territories. Thus, the Patriarch of Alexandria received Egypt and Palestine into his power, the Patriarch of Antioch received Syria, Arabia and most of Asia Minor, the rest of the Churches were assigned to the department of the Patriarch of Constantinople. The weak Arcadius hastened to give legal approval to this abuse of church rights and recognized this triumvirate by a law issued during the life of Arsas on November 18, 404. This law shows what the relationship between the Church and the state was at that time. It, as historians report, was divided into two parts: one concerned meetings of believers, the other dealt with punishments imposed on disobedient bishops. The first was as follows: “Provincial governors are to be advised that they must prohibit the unlawful assemblies of those who, in defiance of the most holy churches, attempt to assemble in other places. Moreover, the one who ceases his communication with Arsas, Theophilus and Porphyry (the venerable high priests of the holy law) must be excommunicated from the Church as a schismatic. Given in Constantinople on the 14th calendar of December, in the sixth consulate of Honorius Augustus and Aristenetus.” The second part of the law, which was not in the code, but was reproduced by modern writers, contained the following regulations: “If any of the bishops refuses to have communion with Theophilus, Arsas and Porphyry, let him be expelled from his throne; Both his monetary property and his land property are taken away from him.” These oppressive instructions, the application of which was prevented by the weakness of Arcadius, received a new life under Atticus, who put all the severity of his persistent and cold spirit into the execution of these measures, while Porphyry, the new Patriarch of Antioch, carried them out with shameful cruelty, which branded his name forever. When studying the history of church unrest, it is often difficult to accept writers’ assessment of people as completely reliable, but the condemnation of Porfiry by all church writers of that time is so well confirmed by his actions in matters that are not subject to any doubt that there is no great danger of slandering the dead by repeating what was said about him alive. From childhood, Porfiry led a life that was completely indecent to the state into which he wanted to enter, and his depraved inclinations, according to the historian, supported and brought up with truly paternal care, only developed over the years. A reveler, a lover of all kinds of spectacles, a passionate lover of buffoons, with whom he lived on a short leg, which was the height of dishonor even for the laity, he, moreover, was involved in the occult and was known as a sorcerer. Contrary to such behavior, which should have forever blocked his access to the priesthood, he, however, achieved it with the help of intrigues and baseness, because he was a crafty man, a flatterer to his superiors, who knew how, under the guise of flattery and servility, to skillfully hide the envious malice that consumed his heart. At the time we are talking about, Porfiry was already an old man. It would be difficult to imagine in such a priest, who disgraced his rank, an ambitious desire to become a bishop. Meanwhile, it was in him, and since he felt that he could become an archbishop only by chance, he diligently lay in wait for such an opportunity. Since the strife between Chrysostom and both Councils began, he took the side of the enemies of the children of Antioch, surpassing everyone in the strength of his attacks and thereby trying to compensate for the lack of merit on his part and the contempt that he deserved. Meanwhile, when Chrysostom went into second exile, the old Bishop of Antioch, Flavian, died after a long illness, and the side of the Johannites lost significant support in him, the struggle in electing his successor promised to be very lively. Severian of Gaval and his two accomplices, the sycophants Acacius and Antiochus, all three Syrians, left Constantinople, as if returning to their dioceses, but secretly slipping into Antioch. They hid there to see with their own eyes what would happen, and, if necessary, to intervene in the matter. Moreover, they secured orders and powers from the court to force the civil and military authorities to act in accordance with their intentions. As the time of elections approached, the clergy was divided into two parties, but the people leaned entirely on the side of the priest Constantius, that friend of Chrysostom, of whom we spoke about the conversion of Phenicia, and who earned the favor of the people as much by his personal virtues as by his loyalty to the exile. Among these meetings, Porfiry sided with the party that demanded the expulsion of all Johannites, and only through a significant distribution of money among the lower strata of the people and clergy announced his own candidacy. At first, no one attached any significance to this statement - before that everyone considered this man unworthy, but Severian and his comrades, defeated by his dexterity, came to an agreement with him secretly, and their agreement gave Porfiry’s proposal a force that it had not had before. In this small secret circle, everyone recognized that success would depend only on the surprise of actions, roles were assigned; The bishops of the court warned the military commander and remained on guard to take advantage of the first opportunity. A few days later, in Daphne, a place of entertainment in Antioch, a great celebration of the so-called Olympic Games was to take place, in which the life and exploits of Hercules were vividly depicted before the eyes of the spectators, with horse racing and fist fighting. Everyone knew the passion of the Antiochians for spectacles, chariot races and gladiator fights, and Porfiry knew well that once he took a place on a circus bench or in a magician’s amphitheater, an Antiochian would not move from this place even for something absolutely necessary. While the inhabitants, both old and young, pagans and Christians, were leaving the city and going to the forest of Daphne, Porfiry, with the help of his accomplices, gathered several hundred people and some of the clergy and went with them to the church, where the three bishops had already arrived earlier. After his arrival, the doors are locked, the sacred vessels are taken - a semblance of election begins: he kneels, and the bishops install him. All this happened so hastily that they did not even finish reading the usual prayers - they were so afraid of some surprise or accidental return of the people. Severian and his friends immediately hastily left the church, and then the city, to hide in the neighboring mountains and from there in their dioceses, because they were afraid of the wrath of the inhabitants if their deception was discovered. And indeed, in the evening the Antiochians, returning from the games, were extremely surprised that they already had a bishop and that this bishop was Porfiry!! They did not like this matter, but, not yet knowing what to decide, they spent the night in meetings. The next morning the decision was made, and the irritated crowd rushed to the bishop's house, where Porfiry set up barriers and pretended that he would defend himself in earnest with the help of his clergy and servants. A siege began, and some people piled straw and trees against the house to burn the house. The army was called, it arrived in time, saved the bishop and cleared the square with swords. In the following days, the battle was resumed with the participation of more troops - in a word, Porfiry was elevated to the archbishop's throne by the soldiers. In accordance with the wishes of the court, the governor ordered the clergy and people to go to church under the threat of the punishments indicated in the imperial decree. The majority of the people refused and tried to serve the litany through the streets, carrying a cross in front; then the governor (Prince Valentin) ordered that those participating in the litany be struck as if they were rebels; in the chaos they knocked over the cross and trampled it under the hooves of horses... From Antioch, the dissatisfied went out of the city, there they were chased, and the scenes of violence that dishonored and stained Constantinople and its surroundings with blood were repeated in the archbishopric of Syria. Relying on civil authorities and the force of arms, the new patriarch suppressed not only the clergy of his Church, but also the clergy of neighboring Churches. It was a coup in the entire province. Porfiry conspired everywhere, forced the expulsion of bishops or deposed them himself, installing new ones - and then a temptation occurred that far exceeded those that Chrysostom had once curbed in Asia Minor. The bishopric was sold at auction, it was asked, offered, bargained for, like some thing sold on the market, and the least worthy was always the most recommended by Porfiry. Theft, robbery of church property, vile violations of the canons - everything was used in this process of obtaining the episcopal rank and church property. To obtain a corrupt bishop, they first bribed voters, clergy and laity, and resorted to the most base means. Tables were set up on the streets, feasts were set for everyone they met, and money was distributed. “Before,” Palladius says bitterly, “the apostles prepared with prayer and fasting for the holy task of electing a bishop, but now they prepare for it with revelry and drunkenness. Churches have become markets where every candidate for an episcopal or priestly position comes to announce his promises and distribute gifts.” Another writer adds that he will not say how many bishops were deposed, how many others were put in their place, how many thiefs flooded the Church. “This subject is too sad,” he says, “to be included in history.” There was, however, something so inglorious that history had to include it on its pages: the appointment to the episcopal position of one eunuch, a former slave, and at that time the servant of some tribune, a dirty man, whom the Orthodox called “the abomination of desolation.” This scoundrel was chosen to be the bishop of Ephesus instead of Heraclides, the former deacon of Chrysostom. “And they were not ashamed,” exclaims Palladius, “to place the Gospel on the head of such a monster.” This was the beginning of the patriarchate of Porfiry, which gave him the honor of being listed in the imperial decree as one of the three models of Orthodoxy in the East. Arsas, who, as Archbishop of Constantinople, had primacy in the triumvirate, looked at all these church “saturnalia” in Syria, apparently not at all indignant at them. Atticus, more dexterous, replaced these arbitrary actions with persecution by a scientist elevated to a rule, and the same method was applied throughout the entire Eastern Empire. First, a second imperial decree was issued, which, confirming the punishments imposed in the first, replaced the name of Arsas with the name of Atticus, then they began a general “cleansing” of bishops and clergy, in one diocese after another, with each patriarch presiding over office work within his territory. Bishops convicted of belonging to the Johannites were deposed, expelled from their Churches and brought before the secular court as criminals. Those who were only suspected of complicity with John Chrysostom or who, without refusing to communicate with the patriarchs of the triumvirate, maintained relations with the Johannites, were transferred to other dioceses; their baseness did not always save them. The bishops of Syria, Cappadocia, and Proconsular Asia were removed to the episcopal seats of Thrace or Pontus, and vice versa. These movements were even applied to monks: monks were forced to move from one part of the empire to another, and this often meant death for the sons of the desert. Of the deposed bishops, those who were more feared were imprisoned, expelled, and given into custody more cruel than in civilian prisons - into the custody of their enemies, the patriarchs. Others were treated more cautiously: they were content to destroy their property and then let them go to live as best they could. Some received help from the private charity of believers - noble souls clothed them and fed them. They tell about one deposed bishop who, having been received by one of his brethren, remained there for three years without crossing the threshold of his room - he was so afraid of betraying his master. Others took up crafts in order to live by the labor of their hands: Bishop Brison, brother of Palladius of Hellenopolis, cultivated his own small plot, the Bishop of Troas bought a boat and lived on the shores of the Aegean Sea by fishing. In contrast to the Apostle Peter, who from a fisherman became a fisher of men, he turned from a fisher of men into a fisherman. Among these disasters that crushed the Orthodox East, many sought to hide in the West, but the sea route was difficult, and they were prevented from doing so. The deacon and priest, sent by Chrysostom from his exile in Kukuza to deliver a letter to Pope Innocent, searched for a long time on the shores of Asia for an opportunity to sail - and in the end they disappeared with their letter without a trace. In this general turmoil, many Churches submitted to the triumvirate. Those who resisted to the end are glorified by history and the Church. Among them are the Carian churches, which agreed among themselves to send a statement of their views to Pope Innocent; the Palestinian churches, which, despite the dissent that tore them apart, drove out the priest who brought them a summons to trial from the triumvirate; churches of Cilicia, Pisinunta, Phrygia and others. When the court tried to intimidate or seduce the archbishop of Thessalonica, the Church of which remained under the jurisdiction of the West, although its territory, like all of eastern Illyria, belonged after Theodosius to the state possessions of the East, the courageous bishop answered: “I am in communion with the Roman Church. As this Church acts, so will I.” The bishops and clergy who came from Constantinople and from internal Greece to Italy and whom the Asians tried to reunite, formed in Rome, as it were, a special population that urgently sought the trial of Chrysostom in the name of their misfortunes and in the name of justice; there a new time was being prepared for this great strife, which from the East spread to the whole world. No matter how much the waves swell and lash, the ship of Christ will not perish. Why should I be afraid? Death? But I will say with the Apostle: “My life is Christ, and death is my acquisition.” Exile? But the earth belongs to the Lord and with all that it contains. Deprivation of property? I brought nothing into this world, and I will take nothing from it with me. Anything that can make a person tremble, I despise. I laugh at wealth, I laugh at the honors that others so covet. Wealth for me is nothing more than poverty. And, if I want to live, then only to be with you, to work on your spiritual improvement. I tell you as I act, and I appeal to your love, may this love be trusting... Churches will not be dissected or mutilated! The Church is indivisible. In it, the heads are not separated from the members, they remain in unity, regardless of anything said about the husband and wife, or rather, in relation to the shepherd and flock: they are one, and what God has united cannot be divided in the power of man. This is the nature of sorrows: they elevate above all suffering those who experience them calmly and generously...