Глава I. Детство о. Макария и его во спитание дома и в школе

The family of hereditary honorary citizens of the merchants Sushkins belonged to the oldest and richest merchant families of the city of Tula and enjoyed honor and fame not only in their hometown, but far beyond its borders and even outside the fatherland, abroad. Almost since the last century, this rich family has been conducting an extensive million-dollar foreign trade in honey, wax, wool, bristles, leather and other raw materials. But despite the long history of this family, memories of its outstanding representatives remained in the memory of the late Fr. Macarius is no further than his grandfather, Dionisy Iosifovich Sushkin, who lived in Pavshinskaya Sloboda, in the parish of the Church of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Great-grandfather of the late Fr. Macarius was a religious man, and raised all three of his sons, of whom Dionysius Iosifovich was the eldest, in the spirit of Orthodoxy and devotion to the Orthodox Church, but the grandfather of the late Fr. Macarius did not remain a son of the Holy Orthodox Church for long and fell into schism. “My grandfather,” says the late Fr. in his autobiography. Macarius, who was about 35 years old, began to read the books of the Holy Scriptures and, unfortunately, did not consult the priests about this, and deviated from the opinions of various old men, of whom there were a lot at that time and who interpreted the Holy Scriptures as they knew. The shepherds of the Church, as was evident from the words of the grandfather himself, did not pay attention and did not correct his mistakes. Thus, while practicing more and more in reading the Holy Scriptures, he accidentally attacked a crooked talker, an Oryol merchant, a class of Perekrestchevanians, who came to Tula on some business. An extremely eloquent and well-read man, although he misunderstood the Holy Scriptures, he began to reject my grandfather from the Orthodox Church.” The eloquent sermon of the Oryol Apostle made a deep impression on Dionisy Iosifovich, and in his soul he ceased to be a son of the Orthodox Church. This change in religious beliefs was soon noticed by people close to Dionysius Iosifovich, who wanted to convert him to the “priestly sense” or to the so-called “Old Believers of the Austrian priesthood.” The preacher of the ideas of this “sense” was a trusted clerk close to Dionysius Iosifovich, who, taking advantage of the frequent absences from his master’s house, very skillfully began to achieve his cherished goal through the master’s wife Akilina Vasilievna, a woman “illiterate, but pious.” “With his conversations,” the clerk-preacher managed to convince Akilina Vasilyevna of the superiority of the “priestly sense” over the “Pereschevantsy sense.” “If you,” said the clerk, “do not warn your husband to join the clerical sense, then he will certainly become a convert; the priestly sense has no difference at all with the Orthodox Church. The only difference is that they pray with a double-fingered cross and maintain order better than in secular churches. If you don’t want to join, then at least take a look at the furnishings of our chapel. Instead of a coachman, I myself will take you to the chapel, where you can take a prayer to your son (that is, forty-day-old Joseph, the last son) and see order and decorum against your Church.” “Grandmother,” according to Fr. Macaria,” succumbed to this bait, assuming that, having taken prayer in the priest’s chapel, she would keep her husband in this, that we (i.e., my husband) could no longer be separated from our son.” Under the influence of these convictions of her clerk, Akilina Vasilyevna took the forty-day-old child Joseph in her arms and went to the priest’s chapel, where the priest, already prepared by the clerk, received her with open arms. The orderliness and orderliness of the divine service and the richness of the furnishings in the chapel, in connection with her personal shaky religious conviction and with the thought of the possibility of getting “into the understanding of the Rebaptized”, all this made such an impression on the pious Akilina Vasilievna that she not only took a prayer from the schismatic priest and had her little Joseph baptized here, but immediately expressed to the priest her “good and spontaneous” desire “correct,” that is, go completely into schism. The schismatic priest did not keep her asking for long and on the same day “corrected” her, tearing her out, as Fr. Macarius, “the good sheep from the flock” of Christ. All this happened in the absence of her husband. When Dioisy Iosifovich returned from his trip, there was an urgent need to tell him about the accomplished fact. Akilina Vasilievna begged her accomplice-clerk to warn her husband, telling him about her trip to the Old Believer chapel to receive the fortieth prayer and about the deep impression that the chapel made on her, and she took the liberty of reporting the very fact of joining the schism. The clerk’s story did not make any impression on Dionisy Iosifovich, and he did not attach any significance to this fact, but when he heard from his wife’s lips about her transfer to the schism of the Austrian priesthood, he was deeply indignant and reproachfully added: “If we transfer, then it would be better to transfer to the Perekrestevans, so as not to get involved with the priests.” Dionysius Iosifovich even directly insisted that his wife “correct herself” again, but she flatly refused. There was some cooling between the spouses. From that time on, the Sushkins stopped visiting the Orthodox church, but they also did not visit the schismatic chapel, which Dionysius Iosifovich did not like. Akilina Vasilyevna did not visit the chapel to please her husband, fearing to cause trouble for him. Thus, the old Sushkins lived for three years, limiting themselves only to the fact that on the days of great church holidays they read hours, akathists, etc. in their home. Such alienation from the church was most of all not to the heart of the “pious” Akilina Vasilyevna, who finally took it upon herself to put a decisive pressure on her husband to put a limit to such an uncertain state of theirs in the sense of expressing their religious beliefs. In the third year “after the correction,” just before Easter, Akilina Vasilievna asked her husband such a bold question: “Here comes Holy Week and will we purr again? “Either we’ll go to the chapel, or again to the Orthodox Church, but I won’t stay like that any longer.” Dionysius Iosifovich did not give a direct decisive answer, and there were disputes between the spouses about this. On Maundy Thursday, Akilina Vasilievna approached her husband and said: “Well, forgive me for what I sinned against you; I’m going to fast in the Orthodox Church.” These words did their job, and the couple prayed that same day in the Old Believer chapel of the Austrian priesthood. On Easter we visited the chapel, and then Dionysius Iosifovich finally “reformed”... D.I. Sushkin, in addition to the already mentioned young son Joseph, had three more older sons: Mikhail, John and Kondraty and three daughters: Agripina, Anna and Vera. “Sushkin wanted to correct all the children,” but his wife opposed this. She stated that this could not be done soon; you need to wait for time, since the time has come to marry your eldest sons. Old man Sushkin had strong confidence that his third son Kondraty, who from the age of 15 lived in Orel on trade business, where at that time was the main shelter of various schismatic sects, would most likely go into schism. Here, according to the description of Fr. Macarius, men cut the tops of their heads and trimmed the corollas on their foreheads, women wore warmer jackets and sundresses with long sleeves. When going to prayer, women put on “cold jackets” and covered themselves with a scarf not at an angle, but with both ends down to the sides. Kondratiy was accepted into the community of the Old Believers with open arms, visited their chapel, read and sang there in the choir, and everyone thought that he would make a real leader, but due to his lively and cheerful character, with his inclinations to be in society, “to court the fair sex, to sing, dance and smoke,” he could not reconcile with the views of the Old Believers and remained forever the son of Prague. Orthodox Church. The eldest two sons lived mostly outside the home on trade matters, and therefore little thought was given to their “correction.” As for the daughters, all of them, against their will, were added to the Old Believers and almost forcibly married to Old Believers. The eldest son of Dionisy Ivanovich, Mikhail Dionisyevich, was married to Marya Andreevna Mascatina, a very intelligent woman and, at that time, even educated, and the second son, Ivan Dionisyevich, the father of the late father of Fr. Makaria, married Feodosya Petrovna, also from the Sushkin family. Feodosya Petrovna was “short in stature and of average beauty”, came from a family that had “declined as a result of trade adversity,” and therefore Ivan Dionisievich was not particularly willing to marry her. Three times they went “to the bride” and did not leave their hats, which, at that time, meant the groom’s consent to the marriage, and only the third time Ivan Dionisievich left his hat by accident, out of forgetfulness. However, Ivan Dionisievich did not want to disobey his father, who wanted to marry his sons to girls “from the most honest houses in the city” and, moreover, modest ones, so that later they could be “corrected” more easily. From this marriage were born sons Vasily, Ivan, Peter and on February 16, 1821, Mikhail, Macarius in monasticism. In the third year, after the birth of his son Mikhail, Ivan Dionisievich moved from Tula to live in St. Petersburg with his entire family, except for his last son. Two-year-old Misha was left with his grandmother in Tula and lived with her until he was almost seven years old. Grandmother Akilina Vasilievna, having no other children in her house, became attached with all her soul to her lively, witty grandson and, out of love for him, indulged in all his pranks and whims. The child was raised under the supervision of nanny Martha, who, according to Fr. Macaria, “loved him, it seems, more than his mother and followed his every step.” From the age of six, he was put into the “primer book” under the guidance of a serf, a very well-read woman, and then soon it was replaced with the “Book of Hours,” from which the lively boy soon began to read quickly and intelligently. Success in literacy pleased the grandfather, who constantly took his beloved grandson with him to the chapel, in the hope that in the future he would “correct” him too. In these types, he forgave his pet a lot and spoiled him in every possible way. Since the boy was a big hunter of delicacies of all kinds, his pockets were always overflowing with them. Knowing this weakness of his seven-year-old grandson, the grandfather one day, returning from the Old Believer chapel, began to have the following conversation with him: “Do you like it in our chapel?” The lively boy boldly answered: “No, it’s better in our church.” "How?" – Grandfather continued to interrogate. The boy replied: “It’s brighter here and the royal doors open, but you don’t.” Some time after this conversation, the grandmother calls her grandson to her and inspires him: “Grandfather wants to ‘fix’ you, but you tell him that I don’t dare without my father.” The next day, the grandfather gives the following speech to his child-grandson: “Come to our chapel, we will love you more than others.” The grandson answered in the sense of his grandmother’s suggestion and at the same time burst into tears throughout the room. Soon, a letter with approximately the following content was sent from Ivan Dionisievich from St. Petersburg to Tula: “Father, you write to me that you want to join my son Mikhail to the chapel, then I will tell you this, for which I ask you to forgive me in advance for Christ’s sake. You have separated us from yourself and from our brothers, for which we now grieve a lot. You intended to marry us and then convert us to your faith, but business affairs changed your plan. We remained forever separated from you, for there was no hope for the family to ever be united together. With God's help, our business expanded. If your elder brother Mikhail Dionisievich, being so close to you, does not have time to visit you, then even more so you will not allow me to do this, but, meanwhile, time is changing. Perhaps my children, of whom I have four, will someday have to live together: three will go to church, and the fourth will either stay at home or go to God knows where. You yourself had experience: when you went to the chapel, the brothers left you, which seemed unpleasant to you before. When we were young and at home, you and mother would go to the chapel, and we would go to church, and when we came home, we were afraid to say anything to each other about the celebration of the holiday, for everyone had their own ideas. Therefore, having experienced a difficult impression on myself, I would not want my son to experience the same. And since you do not want to let him go to us and want to teach him to read and write and make him an assistant, both in your daily service and in business, he will not learn his responsibilities to his father and mother. I ask you to leave it for the time indicated by God.” Ivan Dionisievich did not sympathize with his father’s intentions, as can be seen from the tone of the letter, and was not averse to immediately tearing out his little one, to whom, by the way, the parents had not previously paid any attention, but the long distance and the inconvenience of communication routes forced him to leave the boy in the arms of his grandfather until the first opportunity. Such an opportunity soon presented itself, and for the boy the time of a happy childhood, the time of a free life under the wing of his tenderly loving grandmother and kind nanny, had irrevocably passed. Not knowing his parents, living far from them, the child became familiar with the people around him, who were passionately attached to him, became close to the environment and was not willing to go to St. Petersburg to his parents and to his brothers, with whom he was connected only by blood. “I really didn’t want to” get ready to leave, notes Fr. in his autobiography. Macarius, but his grandmother and his nanny also did not part with him with joy. The first “cried for several days,” and the second “cried more than anyone, almost out loud, promising to visit the child at the first opportunity.” The child left Tula with his uncle Pyotr Semenovich Lozhnikov, married to Vera Dionisyevna, who was traveling to St. Petersburg “to establish his own affairs.” But this time the travelers did not reach St. Petersburg. For some reason, Pyotr Semenovich changed his mind about going to St. Petersburg and returned back to Tula, and the boy Misha was left for a while with his eldest paternal uncle, Mikhail Dionisievich, and lived here in Moscow until the summer, attending with his peers the parish school at Ascension, which is behind the Serpukhov Gate, near Konnaya. In the summer, after suffering shocks due to the loss of his wife, Dionysius Iosifovich came to Moscow “for confession and communion” together with his son-in-law Pyotr Semenovich, who this time intended to put into practice the idea of ​​​​a trip to St. Petersburg, for some reason, as we know, did not take place almost a year ago. With this companion, little Sushkin went further to St. Petersburg to visit his parents. The son's meeting with his parents, whom he did not know, was cold and difficult. In his mother, who met the guests on the stairs, he recognized only “a great resemblance to his aunt, his mother’s sister, the maiden Pelagia, so that he almost mistook her for her.” The father who came to the house greeted his little son officially; Having kissed him, he began to ask him about his health, to which the guest responded with stubborn silence. Reluctantly, he answered the questions of his brothers, who surrounded the guest from all sides. His embarrassment in his new family intensified even more when he noticed that his brothers, hearing his frequent use of the word “this and that” and seeing his inability to behave decently in society, were dying of laughter at him. Therefore, for a long time he could not get along with his brothers and “shunned” them. In general, in his own family he did not meet either the affection of his late grandmother or the boundless love of his nanny, and it seemed to him that he had ended up “as if in someone else’s family.” Uncle Pyotr Semenovich, with whom he arrived, “seemed dearer to him than anyone else in the world,” and therefore, very naturally, at the first stages of his life in St. Petersburg, the boy “finds one joy in meeting with his uncle, from whom he did not retreat a single step when he was at home.” The whole situation, external and domestic, was extremely disliked by the new member of the family N.D. Sushkin: “even in Moscow, according to the remark of Fr. Makaria, I was more at ease than in St. Petersburg.” Feodosia Petrovna, as a “pious” woman who raised her children in the fear of God and in the strict observance of all church rites of the Orthodox Church, soon after the first meeting with her son, she inquired from him about his religious upbringing in his grandfather’s house and, to her chagrin, found that the boy had no idea about the good skills befitting a boy from a Christian pious family. He did not know a single prayer by heart, and therefore, as he already “read Slavic quite well,” he was immediately put into the book of hours and not before allowed to leave it, as he smartly completed the initial pages of it, up to and including the Creed. A week after arriving in St. Petersburg, Misha and the rest of his brothers began attending a private school 9, in which children were taught a lengthy catechism, the sacred history of the Old and New Testaments, Russian grammar, arithmetic, algebra, accounting, the ability to use logarithms, the languages ​​German and French, and dancing. The provincialism acquired by the boy in Tula also caused ridicule from his schoolmates here, and it was not easier for him compared to home, but fortunately for his diligence and success, the teacher and teacher (husband and wife), the owners of the boarding house, who “for the students were like father and mother, looking after their children,” fell in love with him. Paying attention to the boy's soft soul and tender heart and his diligence, they took him under special protection, protected him from the attacks of his peers, little by little corrected his provincialism and taught him to behave well in society. Mikhail Sushkin studied well in all subjects, but mathematics was especially easy for him, which he knew “properly.” Successes in mathematics reconciled father and son, who began to look at Mikhail the son as a future good assistant in his trading affairs. The boy studied languages, and mainly German, which he spoke fluently until his death, but his father found this knowledge an unnecessary luxury and directly forbade him. But the son cried and secretly continued to study. He could not learn to write calligraphy, despite coercion and punishment, and until his death his handwriting was neither beautiful nor legible. The boy studied dancing with complete love and subsequently became addicted to it to a large extent, so that one might say that he was a passionate lover of dancing. Regarding childhood, upbringing outside the home and religious education at home under the guidance of mother Feodosia Petrovna, Fr. Macarius provides the most detailed information in his autobiography. This education was common at the beginning of the last century in pious merchant families, unfortunately, it is now rarely practiced in this class. Due to interest in general and in particular from the desire to understand the influences under which the childhood and youth education of Fr. Macarius, we will pay attention to this moment of his autobiography and make more or less detailed extracts from it. “We usually got up,” says Fr. Macarius, - every day at 7 o’clock, then we were forced to pray along the staircase. This was run by our late mother. We were gathered into the living room, where there was her blessed icon of the Vladimir Mother of God. There she stood behind, and we all stood in front. Everyone had to make the sign of the cross and bow decently; absent-mindedness and inattention to the matter were punished by something, either by adding some kind of prayer or by taking away one cracker with tea or a whole cup of tea. At the end of the prayer, we greeted our parents good morning, and then father, mother and the four of us gathered for tea. We were given two cups of tea or three, whoever wanted, but no more, on fasting days - three crackers, and on fasting days - white bread, also three slices. Then they sent us to school with a person. Arriving at school after greeting the teacher and his wife, only the two of us (that is, his brother Pyotr Ivanovich) were obliged to read the kathisma of the Psalter. This [was] done at the insistence of my father, so that while we are engaged in other sciences, we would not forget the word of God. Then they began their homework lesson. This was the custom. In arithmetic, we had to submit a problem to some senior student, who checked it and, if he found it correct, reported on its correctness, for which we received approval and then listened to the assigned lesson from the catechism or grammar; if the arithmetic task was not completed, then they continued to work on it. Then it was time for lunch. At 12 o'clock we had lunch. Almost all the boys stayed at school for lunch, although some lived nearby. Here we sometimes showed up with lunch, who had something to spare. We usually had everyone half a francalie, if it was a fast day - meat: veal or poultry, very rarely steak, a bottle of milk and something else, or cake or fruit, and on a fast day half a loaf of bread, a piece of fish and caviar. Then we were allowed to walk for an hour. Under our windows there was a deserted kindergarten in which we gathered and played “geese and swans”... By 2 o’clock everyone was going to class, and now penmanship began under dictation... and the writing continued for 2 hours. The rest of the hour was filled with problems. Anyone who studied drawing drew something. At 5 o'clock or 5? we were blossoming. Coming home with a man who also came for us, we had to give an account of our teaching. For this, special notes were given to each of us - approving or not: of course, according to these notes we were received with praise or scolding. After that, we were given tea in the same portions as in the morning, and - after - if it was summer - we were given some berries in a tea cup. Then they began to study or finish their task. If we managed to finish it soon, then we still had time to go out onto the balcony and take a walk. At 10 o'clock we sat down to eat. Moderation was always observed, and no one except father and mother could talk, except when asking someone about something. And if any prank was noticed, then dismissal from the table was immediately made. After eating, we again went to prayer, accompanied by mother. And the priest, although he prayed with us, but hastily, because of this they often had squabbles with mother: she reproached him for haste, and he reproached her for being slow. Our apartment was on Vasilyevsky Island in the first cadet line, between Maly and Medium Avenues. In the house of the merchant Golubin, in the parish of the Church of St. Catherine, near the church itself. Every Sunday in the summer at the all-night vigil we had to go and stand with our father, which we really didn’t like. In winter they woke us up for matins, for which I, in particular, always got up lazily, for which I was often left without morning tea. We constantly attended the early liturgy, where, according to custom, two prosphoras were served: one for health, the other for repose and with great remembrance. We spent the circle of summer or year as follows. Let's start with Lent. The first day we were woken up for matins. Coming from there, we went to school. We did not attend the hours or vespers. On this day, for some reason, we came home to eat, but they didn’t give us tea (in the morning). In the evening, when we came from school, everyone felt a headache that day. When we were getting ready for tea, there was honey and raisins and figs on the table. There were two types of raisins, and we zealously sat down to them. These days there were no commandments about how much tea to drink, and we, taking advantage of conversations, diligently devoured what was on the table... Mother usually ate once during the entire first week, but the table was quite filling, almost not fast at all. Rusks with kvass, radish, pickled white and charmed black mushrooms and two dishes: peas and cabbage soup. In the evening there was potato or rice soup, then some kind of malted dough and sweet porridge. No fruit was given until Saturday and nothing sweet. We looked forward to Saturday with the greatest impatience, on which we baked pancakes and made mushroom caviar. We went to school well-fed and dozed all the time. And if anyone indulges in a prank over pancakes, they were given pancakes not with poppy seed oil, but with hemp oil, which is why they were nicknamed “green pancakes.” Of course, someone who fell under disgrace could not eat without habit, but was content with what he had before. On all Sundays of Great Lent we went to all church services. For evening tea we all gathered together, during which we were given walnuts, almonds and plain nuts, and sometimes almond milk was made, which I expected as a holiday. From the second week, tea began early in the morning and, as usual, going to school. Lunch and dinner are always with butter, except Wednesday and Friday. Often in the second week we were forced to fast together with mother, and even then we went to all services without fail. From school to the clock we went to the Church of the Annunciation, and on Wednesday and Friday to our parish church of St. Catherine. On Friday after mass we did not go to school. When we came to say goodbye to our father, he gave us instructions that could rather be called abuse: all past pranks were remembered in detail. In our parish there was a priest, John of Melioran, our Tula man, whom we respected and loved. Having come from confession, after all the services were over, we were not allowed to eat. We drank tea with the condition that on some future Wednesday or Friday we would not drink tea, because it seemed to us that we could not stand it. For confession we gave the priest a silver ruble. I usually tried to go to confession in the morning, and the priest was not bothered by this. We all partook at the early liturgy, and we put a lot of candles on the images, and usually a bottle of wine and five prosphoras were placed on the altar. We all stood on the left choir, where there were no singers, but only communicants. Mother did this in order to better listen to the service. After communion of the Holy Mysteries, if there was a late liturgy, mother remained, and we left to find father when he did not leave on business. Having arrived home and having drunk tea, we waited for mother. On this day they gave us almost nothing of oil, fearing that after a week of fasting we would feel ill. On this day we were forced to read something from the Divine Scripture, and this day was spent especially reverently. Then followed ordinary days. According to some custom, mother took off the next week. We were only allowed to come on Wednesday and Friday to the Liturgy of the Presanctified. Since quite a few monks and nuns came to us and carried prosphora, which were all collected for fasting, (now) and eaten in large quantities, doused with hot water, but not with tea. White bread for morning tea, caviar and fish were not given throughout Lent, except for Lazarus Saturday, when caviar was given, and on the day of the Annunciation and Palm Sunday - fish. The Friday of the Annunciation was especially observed with fasting, when no bread was given even in the evening... 10 Holy Week was carried out like this: if any of us fasted, he had to appear for the Liturgy before those sanctified, and those who did not fast were content with Matins, then they went to school. On Wednesday they were released with various instructions from the teacher, who always fasted during Holy Week. The remaining days: Thursday, Friday and Saturday, we went to all services without fail. We ate without oil all week, and on Friday - once after the removal of the shroud, and also on Saturday after the liturgy. Although there was then an early liturgy on Saturday, it was not allowed to eat after it. Having come from the liturgy and having drunk tea, my father and I calmly went to the opposite shop to buy dessert. For those who were taken into this shop, it was the height of bliss, for they could at least slowly enjoy themselves. Having come from the shop and drunk tea, everyone fell into a deep sleep, except me. I ran to church not to read Acts, but to look, pray a little and arrange the candles that were assigned to me. I was very interested in this assignment. Having finished the assignment, I came home. We were already starting to get up for matins. Having dressed in everything new, we went to Matins with my father, where, taking advantage of the crowds, we ran to the altar and there, among the most famous parishioners, stood forward and. My pleasure was to christen myself before the family with the clergy and to see the whole ceremony: how Matins began, how the incense was performed, etc. At the end of Matins, we remained for the early liturgy. All this ended by three o'clock in the morning. Usually at that time in St. Petersburg, matins began at 12 o'clock, which was announced by 101 shots in the Peter and Paul Fortress, which we looked forward to impatiently, as well as the end of the liturgy. And what an indescribable delight there was behind this morning! It is unlikely that it has ever been repeated in age. This was before the age of 15. Coming from the liturgy, we said Christ with everyone and broke our fast. By this [time] the artos and Epiphany holy water were prepared, then the antidor and prosphora, and then they broke their fast. At the same time, the instruction was given to always eat as little as possible, but at the end of Easter we all always became unwell. Easter was almost always spent at home, we didn’t go anywhere, except for a walk somewhere, and sometimes quietly to the swing on Admiralteyskaya Square. All Easter we went to all the services, which were leaving very soon. What occupied us was the religious procession around the church every day with artos after the liturgy, and on Saturday after Matins. Then there was no early liturgy, but a late one, on the occasion of the distribution of artos, which we considered it essential to receive, although they sent it to us (i.e., to our home). From the first days, my father, who received many visits, went himself, but we limited ourselves to one teacher. After Easter we each went about our own business. This went on until May. We didn’t go anywhere besides school, except when there was ice on the Neva, then we went to look at it. Since May we were allowed to go to the Smolensk cemetery with a nanny. During one of these walks, my brother Peter and I got very excited. I accidentally hit his nanny and said: “You’re so fat!” This was reported to my father, who was so offended by my words that he did not let me into the Smolensk cemetery, left me at home, locked me in a dark corridor until my mother arrived from the late liturgy, who, having come and seeing me in this position, went to my father to ask and, having talked there among themselves, they took me out of the seclusion and set me to read the Psalter for the whole day, having preceded with many instructions to my bitter ones. sobs. It is known how St. Day is honored. Nicholas in Russia, but no attention was paid to this either. My brothers came, and when they saw me in this position, the younger ones were very amazed at this. Perhaps they would have given me dinner, but since it was the elder brother Vasily Ivanovich who was to blame for informing my father about my words, I did not miss the opportunity to stick out my tongue at him and say: “snitch,” which was again reported and received for this two slaps in the face and complete abandonment without dinner. When dinner was over and everything had calmed down, until then I read the Psalter loudly, and when we went to bed, I was put under the supervision of brother Ivan Ivanovich, from whom I asked for something to eat. He refused me this, fearing persecution by Vasily Ivanovich, and he himself was dissatisfied that I allowed myself impudence in my words, but [then] he took out bread in the kitchen and sent me into the dark corridor where I was sitting, [so that] I could eat there, because no one went there. Having eaten quickly, I began to read the Psalter again, which I continued until 4 o’clock in the afternoon. When tea was served, they called brother Ivan Ivanovich and asked: how many kathismas have I read? He answered: sixteen. The test has begun - did I miss it? After many more tortures with various punishments (i.e. instructions), I was forgiven. Then they gave me tea and a piece of bread. The hardest thing for me, as I remember, was to bow to brother Vasily Ivanovich. I definitely wanted to make some kind of grimace at him, but since everyone was gathered here, I couldn’t. They looked after us so strictly. During the holidays, everything was elegant for us. In the morning they gave me coffee, which I couldn’t stand. At this time, I ran to talk to the clerks, who met only once a week in anticipation of coffee. Then tea was served. I went to drink it, because the brothers were already full. For dinner in the spring, some greens, sauce, and finally blemange and cake were prepared. At vespers, if there were no guests, we were given some kind of delicacy: berries in the summer, and nuts when they are not available. I, much more than [others], destroyed all kinds of delicacies. Spoiled by this, I was not satisfied with what they gave us, although if there were guests, we were given a (large) portion of all kinds of dessert, as well as jam. But for me all this was missing. I resorted to the shameful craft of stealing. If I didn’t find anything in the cupboards, in that case I would already take the sugar and eat it. Once I learned that brother Ivan Ivanovich did not eat his delicacy, but collected it in a chest that stood under our bed and belonged to him, I calmly took out his hidden gifts and ate until I emptied everything. When brother Ivan Ivanovich wanted to eat, he opens the chest and finds nothing. Then he runs to his mother with a loud cry to complain that his chest is empty. Immediately suspicion fell on me. And since I refused, it was necessary to ask the servants. But when my father came home from the stock exchange, he calmly decided that this was my job. No matter how much I refused, offended by such suspicions, my father decided to tie me with a rope to the bed where the chest stood. Meanwhile, they asked the servants, one of whom denounced me for what I gave him from these gifts. As a result, I was left without tea and dinner. Another time, as a result of fasting, in the first week of Lent, I ate gingerbread cookies called zhamki, for which I suffered a lot of trouble, especially from my brother Vasily Ivanovich, who wrote two letters on the weekly note about our behavior from the teacher: “B. Zh.”, which meant: “a saucer of zhamki.” Why did the teacher ask: what is this written? After many accusations, I finally confessed to the teacher, who did not praise the orders of the household - to starve the children. On the day of the Holy Trinity, since there are no early liturgies, we slept more than usual, and meanwhile father sent to buy birch trees, rowan trees, which were bought in large quantities for our apartment, and bunches of flowers, which we all untied, selecting the best for father and mother. Someone brought [more] from the garden to this. We tied them both for ourselves and for the servants and gave them to each, while we ourselves placed the birch trees in the rooms. Then at 10 o'clock the gospel began. We went to church, and at the same time we were given instructions to wet each bouquet with tears. To the question: “why?” They answered: [then,] “that God allowed us to live until spring and that everything was arranged for man, both a real holiday and the flowers that cheer us up.” Of course, when reading the prayers of Pentecost, [we] tried to somehow squeeze out at least one tear so that, coming from the liturgy, we could say about it. The church was also decorated with various trees. We spent both days festively. Usually they didn’t let us go to any festivities, so we were content with festivities on the balcony of our apartment, because the public usually went past us to the islands, such as Krestovsky, Elagin and others. Sometimes we went to visit one of our friends where there was a garden, but this consolation was received very rarely... 11 On May 29 we celebrated mother's name day. Sometimes guests were invited to tea, which ended with an evening snack. The guests were usually from the environment, his father's trading partners, rejectors and sometimes foreigners. The evening usually passed with them playing cards and then leaving. We were not allowed to smoke, and at that time we smoked very little. Few (people) visited our house, since mother was very religious, did not attend public festivities and theaters, and secular women were accustomed to absent-mindedness: and the only conversation was about what was happening in the theater or at the festivities. Women from nine houses came to us - six Russians and three foreigners, and then almost no more than twice a year: once on January 27, on my father’s name day, and the other time only for a visit. We were taken to 4 places, mainly where there were children, whom we also saw no more than twice a year. In the summer we usually had the consolation of going to Kolpino, where the miraculous icon of St. Nicholas. There, having served the liturgy and prayer service, we went to the waterfall, from where the elder brother bought us “snakes,” and we enjoyed flying the “kite.” Then a carriage arrived, and we went to Tsarskoye Selo, where we drove straight to the royal garden, walked there for three hours and, since we had friends there, left the garden to drink tea and have dinner. In Tsarskoe Selo we visited the palace, the church and all the sights, the menagerie. But I don’t remember much of that anymore. I remember that, given our age, we were very interested in the elephant, which we were given to eat and drink, and the swans, which were in abundance in the royal garden. Upon arrival, the stories, both at home and at school, were endless. Sometimes we went to the Sergiev Hermitage, from where, also after the liturgy and having lunch, we, to our indescribable joy, went to Peterhof, where we ran around the entire garden with delight and especially always tried to see the Royal Family, who always lived there in the summer. We had the good fortune to see the Empress herself catching fish in the pond with a fishing rod. At this very time, the real German Emperor Wilhelm I was there. Sovereign Alexander Nikolaevich was then no more than 16 or 17 years old. When he appeared, the Empress was delighted. At the sound of the bell, the fish came up and fell on the fishing rod. The Empress and the entire Royal Family later rode in rulers around the garden. Wherever she (Last Name) was, she was always persecuted. This is how the Russian people love their kings and their families! By 8 o'clock in the evening, when the public was gathering at the palace, chairs were provided for the Royal Family, in which she sat until 9 o'clock. At 9 o’clock, when the dawn sounded and the music of “Our Father” began to play, the Empress made the sign of the cross on herself, stood up, bowed to the public and went inside the palace. A theater was set up in front of the palace for the visiting dear guest, the current Emperor Wilhelm, and the entire garden was illuminated. The play was given in Chinese, Kia-King." At this time a strange incident happened to us. Since mother, according to her vow, did not appear anywhere at the festivities or at the illuminations, she asked the clerk to accompany her to the carriage. And we stayed with father to see when the Emperor and the Royal Family would go. The clerk, having seen off mother and returning from there, since he was in the habit of walking very quickly, ran almost headlong and ran straight into the Emperor, who said to him: “Why are you, brother, so not careful?” When he approached us, he could not utter a word out of fear and kept looking around to see if they were looking for him. The illumination was magnificent, or better said, a rare sight. All the fountains were launched under multi-colored lights, the water of which seemed to be pink. Late in the evening we returned to the carriage and went home. During Peter's Lent we ate fish without distinguishing between the medium and the heel. In the spring, the fish in St. Petersburg is especially good - vendace, smelt, and in Petrov Fast you can catch excellent salmon and whitefish. They made botvinya with salmon, fish soup with whitefish, a roast with vendace and smelt, and a salad with fresh cucumbers. During the Dormition Fast we did not eat fish, but meat. On August 1st we received excellent comb honey. Fish was allowed on the Transfiguration. In some years they fasted during this Lent. On Transfiguration they began to eat apples. We celebrated Assumption Day solemnly, for it was our church holiday, and we had guests who were closest to us. After Vespers, a dessert of all kinds of berries was served. Throughout the summer, jam, which mother cooked in large quantities for annual use, was a source of great pleasure. Although we used (jam) a little, we devoured the berries in abundance. We didn't spend the autumn boring: we went to school by candlelight and returned by candlelight. At school, during twilight, we were allowed to frolic, and sometimes danced among ourselves. In the evening we mostly wrote under dictation. Returning home for tea, we no longer studied lessons because at that time we were sitting at school and finishing them there. The same thing happened with us in the winter. When the Nativity Fast began, they ate lean meats, and mostly fish. During all Lents, Mother did not eat fish on Wednesdays and Fridays. For the Nativity of Christ, they sewed us new clothes, and at school they taught us races a week in advance, which we had to say in front of our parents on the day of the Nativity of Christ after the liturgy, for which we received a monetary reward. This money was put into a special wallet, which was kept by my mother, and was not given to us for any expenses. On these holidays, in the absence of father, we dressed up at home, mainly in women's attire. Ivan Ivanovich was for the hairdresser..." This is where the autobiographical memories of the late Fr. Macarius, recorded in 1877 from his words by Hieromonk Mina. Obviously, after the declaration of the Russian-Turkish War, when relations between Athos and Russia ceased, Fr. Macarius wanted to reproduce in his memory, in general terms, the most important moments of his life and convey them on paper, but then, at the end of the war, due to lack of leisure, he left this beautiful thought of his unfulfilled and his memories unfinished. But for the characterization of Father Macarius himself, and precisely in his childhood, this famous passage gives us everything we need. In the passage we have quoted, the sympathetic image of the great future ascetic is outlined with all the attractive relief that would be difficult to achieve by extracting the features of his life from the oral stories of his contemporaries and even relatives. This school was first located not far from the Sushkins’ apartment, then it was transferred to the 5th line of Vasilyevsky Island in Makarov’s house on the fifth floor. “We were studying,” according to the description of Fr. Makaria, - three spacious rooms. The first is a bedroom and office, the second is a library where we were taught lessons, and the third is a hall for visitors and a dance class. There were corridors all around, then a large kitchen, where we usually left our outerwear.” On this occasion, Fr. Macarius tells in his autobiography a fact that is not devoid of interest for his characterization. “Hunger forced,” he writes, “to resort to the impermissible means of taking prosphora from the table and eating, which was not hidden from the watchful eye of brother Pyotr Ivanovich’s nanny and was handed over to the late mother. In addition to the unbearable hunger, I was not given dinner, as a result of which I was very irritated and, despite my ten years of age, made great objections to my mother and cried." There are several details here that are not important or interesting; we omit them. You might be interested in: