Personal memories of Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg as a teacher and colleague

Speech delivered in abbreviation at a public meeting of the religious and moral Society in the spirit of the Orthodox Church Before proceeding to personal memories of the unforgettable Metropolitan Anthony, who has died in God, as my teacher and colleague at the Kazan Theological Academy, I find it necessary to first make several reservations in order to eliminate all kinds of misunderstandings and possible objections, wishes and demands towards me. My personal memories, as such, are undoubtedly subjective and will be incomplete and, perhaps, even one-sided and petty for a person invested with such a high rank, and, moreover, in a real meeting, where the majority of those gathered are deep admirers of the late archpastor, eager to hear about him only reverently high and enthusiastic things that would distinguish him from the number of persons similar to him and would place him at an unattainable height. Personally, the idea of ​​creating an artificial stage and placing on it the personality of the late Metropolitan Anthony, who left the most cherished memory among his admirers and contemporaries, is alien to me now, as vivid proof of this is, incidentally, in our present collection. Three years have already passed since the blessed premature death of the Bishop. The severity of the bereavement gradually subsided. The need to speak about the deceased ruler according to the rule: De mortuis aut bene aut nihil has now disappeared. Both the bright personality of Metropolitan Anthony and his academic and administrative activities are already moving into the realm of impartial history. That is why I would like, in this meeting of admirers of the late Bishop, to describe his bright personality not from its, so to speak, ostentatious side, as the late Bishop appears to us in a professor’s uniform, in a cassock with a panagia on his chest and in a white hood on his head, and in a sakkos, and an omophorion, as panegyrists usually describe him in their obituaries and various articles about the ups and downs in his not devoid of drama and the exceptionally happy patronage of the fortunes of life, but to depict him in an ordinary modest jacket or cassock, even without a scooper on his head, at his working desk or, in the circle of his intimate like-minded people, at a modest meal or at the tea table. Perhaps, in these small, invisible and inaccessible to the outside world, but, in my opinion, very characteristic features, a deeply sympathetic image of the deceased bishop will emerge before us with even greater plastic relief and enchanting sincere charm than even in articles written ad hoc. My memories will be sporadic and often separated by significant periods of time. The latter depends on the fact that my cohabitation with the late Bishop falls only on the years of my study at the Academy from 1878–1882, and on the first two years of service in Kazan, from 1882–1884, and on the last years of the Bishop’s life from 1907, after my relocation to serve from Kiev in Petrograd, and, it goes without saying, that my meetings with him were not intrusive. My first acquaintance with Alexander Vasilyevich Vadkovsky (secular name of Metropolitan Anthony) dates back to 1878, when I entered the Kazan Theological Academy as a student in the church-practical department. Among the departmental subjects in the first year, we had to listen to the history of preaching - the ancient Christian and Byzantine periods. It hardly needs to be added that seeing and hearing the professors of our department was very interesting for us, newcomers, since at the entrance exams we saw only professors from the departments of theology and church history and lecturers of new languages. At the scheduled hour, a young, slender man dressed in a uniform, with a pleasant face bordered by a small beard and abundant hair on his lips, entered with an even gait into a small auditorium occupied by 8 students of the new course of the church-practical department 1. Gray thoughtful eyes, a somewhat fleshy nose, thick eyebrows and very little hair with a clearly visible bald spot on his head complemented the external figure of the lecturer who appeared before us. Having bowed to the students and ascended to the pulpit, Alexander Vasilyevich, in an even and melodious voice, without affectation, began reading from the notebook an introduction to the history of Christian preaching, at times only straightening his thick mustache with his left hand, or stroking his equally thick eyebrows. We listened to the lecture with keen interest and came away delighted with the impression that Alexander Vasilyevich made on us. The first favorable impression not only did not weaken in the future, but grew, one might say, with each lecture. When we came to his readings on the history of Byzantine preaching in the golden age - the time of St. Basil the Great, John Chrysostom, Ambrose of Milan, our audience already turned out to be cramped and stuffy. The number of people wishing to listen to the fascinating lecturer grew with each lecture, and the audience could no longer accommodate everyone. We, so to speak, ex officio listeners, were delighted with the lecturer and positively considered ourselves happy that our audience became the envy of students from other departments. Alexander Vasilyevich, seeing the audience growing in number in front of him, became emboldened and blossomed. His beautiful, even and melodic speech about the wealth and magnificent luxury of the Byzantine imperial court and the depravity of modern morals of the capital of the marvelous Bosporus, in connection with the inspired, fiery word of the ascetic accuser and undaunted preacher of Christ's truth, the Golden-talking Archbishop of Constantinople John Chrysostom, made a charming, irresistible impression on the listeners. In the picturesque depictions of the licentiousness of morals and dazzling luxury in the life of the Byzantine capital, on the one hand, and the merciless harsh denunciations of the subtle connoisseur of the human heart, the ascetic archpastor, on the other, in the lecturer’s speech we heard neither pompous pathos, nor rhetorical cold affectation, but still the same ordinary, businesslike, even tone of the lecturer - an expert in his field. And with this calmness and matter-of-fact tone, he won us over even more in his favor and unwittingly won over the entire audience. We saw off the talented, eloquent lecturer with thunderous applause and left the audience in admiration and enchantment. I now involuntarily have an ardent desire to see these lectures published, although I can say with almost certainty that these lectures were not entirely original, and were compiled under the influence of very good French sources. The inner personal life of Alexander Vasilyevich at that time could have been completely unknown to us first-year students, but one random circumstance lifted the veil before us that hid this life from us. It turned out that the young, handsome professor who captivated us in the classroom was going through a difficult family drama and was experiencing severe, oppressive material need. We had the most reliable and eloquent information about this from our department and course comrade Aristov, who, having not received a government scholarship and having no means of subsistence, was placed by Alexander Vasilyevich in the editorial office of the academic journal “Orthodox Interlocutor” as its clerk. The young associate professor A.V. Vadkovsky was the father of two children and huddled in an academic suburb in a modest apartment in Milman’s house, under the most difficult family conditions. In the house, the beloved young wife of Alexander Vasilyevich, sentenced to death, lay on her bed, in need of care and funds for her treatment. Two lovely creatures - a boy Boris and a girl Lydia, aged 6 to 8 years old, required constant supervision and careful observation, which was no longer possible for the dying Elizaveta Vasilievna. Lack of funds for the position of associate professor, with a salary of 1200 rubles. per year, and high household expenses forced Alexander Vasilyevich to take on the editing and proofreading of the “Orthodox Interlocutor”. This intensive work, which required a lot of trouble in the printing house, in paper stores and constantly sitting at home proofreading, often distracted Alexander Vasilyevich from his scientific professorial studies, but he also had to break away at home, either drawn to the bedside of his beloved wife, or to his little ones, deprived of the tender warming caresses of their sick mother. It hardly needs to be added that it was not possible for Alexander Vasilyevich to share these complex and difficultly compatible responsibilities with anyone in the house, with only one servant. Both the student Aristov and Ksaviry, the editorial servant, were regular visitors to Alexander Vasilyevich’s apartment, his trusted executors of his various assignments, and at the same time direct witnesses to the difficult life drama that he was experiencing at that time. A catastrophe broke out in the family of Alexander Vasilyevich in the fall of 1878; Elizaveta Vasilievna died, leaving a young widower with two small children in his arms. The friendly academic corporation with its families tried in every possible way to express their sympathy for their handsome comrade in the grief that befell him, and the students, in turn, did not want to lag behind them in expressing their touching feelings regarding their grief-stricken beloved professor. A wonderful student choir took part in the removal of the body of the deceased and sang the funeral liturgy and burial rite in the church. After the funeral, Alexander Vasilyevich went entirely into scientific work, seeking in it both oblivion of the bereavement he had suffered and income for the significant debts that he incurred, first due to his wife’s illness, and then her funeral. Intense scientific work in his favorite specialty and on the description of the Solovetsky manuscripts stored in the library of the Kazan Theological Academy was interrupted only to attend lectures and for conversations with his little ones, who sought his caresses and tender care. We, students, directly admired how this young widower, with maternal tenderness, took care of the religious and moral education of his children, with whom we saw Alexander Vasilyevich constantly in the academic church at all services. Often we could observe his travels with them to the neighboring Arskoe cemetery to listen to liturgies in the local church and for memorial services at his dear native grave. My rapprochement with Alexander Vasilyevich and my acquaintance with him occurred in my third year in 1881, when I, busy with my candidate’s essay: “Divine services in the Russian Church in the 16th century,” often visited the apartment of my unforgettable teacher, liturgist N. O. Krasnoseltsev, who lived nearby in a hospital settlement in the same house with his brother-in-law, professor Ya. A. Bogorodsky. Alexander Vasilyevich often liked to confide his loneliness and deep thoughts about raising orphans to the very pretty and warm-hearted N.M. Krasnoseltseva, who, under her watchful supervision, supervised the upbringing of the widower’s only son, Professor Ya. A. Bogorodsky. Here, in this unforgettable family of nice hard-working professors, my first unofficial acquaintance with A.V. Vadkovsky took place. I established my relationship with him more intimately already in the fourth year, when, after the departure of prof. BUT. Krasnoseltsev on a scientific trip abroad, I was left alone, and when, due to the nature of the selected group subjects for practical studies - canon law, liturgics and homiletics - I often had to talk with him for a long time not in the classroom, but in a small student room for evening classes and sometimes almost face to face. The beginning of publication on the pages of the “Orthodox Interlocutor” of my first academic work: “Divine services in the Russian Church for the first five centuries” (a critical analysis of the book by N. O. Odintsov: “The order of public and private worship of the Russian Church until the 15th century”) prompted me to visit the apartment of A. V. Vadkovsky, as the editor of an academic journal, and to take a closer and more attentive look at how our beloved lived and worked a professor-widower in the midst of the situation that surrounded him as the father of two orphans, with an extremely limited budget... In order to better understand the intellectual and moral atmosphere in which the young and talented associate professor of the Academy lived and worked at that time, it is necessary to say a few words about the Kazan Academy and its professors of the late 70s and early 80s of the last century. The Academy was under the vigilant and wise care of the ever-memorable Archbishop of Kazan Anthony (Amphiteatrov). As a learned, authoritative theologian and the former rector of both the Theological Seminary and for a long time the Theological Academy, he vigilantly followed all aspects of her life and was keenly interested in her scientific activities. The professors of the Academy were in his special favor and honor. He entered into their needs and even into all aspects of their lives, and therefore a very lively spiritual connection was established between the Bishop and the professors, which was broken only with his death, bitterly mourned by the Academy in 1878. The Academy was headed by a 1st year student of the Academy, a high soul and deep Christian mood, Archpriest A.P. Vladimirsky. Charming fatherly love, charming benevolence and sincere simplicity and accessibility, both for professors and students, distinguished all his administrative and educational measures, and therefore it is not surprising that he enjoyed unquestioned authority and the most sincere and deep respect among both professors and students. The name of the rector “papas”, or more simply, in Russian, “tyatka”, was popular and well known to both professors and students and speaks quite eloquently for itself. Charming affection, warm-hearted responsiveness, Russian broad hospitality and an encouraging deepest faith in the triumph of truth and justice - this is what this truly unforgettable father-rector possessed, who never sought popularity from anyone and even rarely visited his colleagues at the Academy. At the head of the scientific life of the Academy were two assistant rectors: I. Ya. Porfiryev and P. V. Znamensky. Pupils of the old pre-reform Academy, according to the charter of 1869, both of them inherited the best traditions of their old Almae Matris both in moral and scientific terms. Both named professors, Porfiryev and Znamensky, of whom the latter is still happily alive, lived by the legends of the times of G.S. Sablukov, N.I. Ilminsky, P.P. Gvozdev, Shchapov, A.S. Pavlov and others, and already had an honorable name in science. Both Porfiryev and Znamensky, representing not only serious armchair people, completely absorbed in scientific sophistication, but at the same time were distinguished by very attractive and sympathetic features of their personal charming character, and both were surprisingly awarded by Providence with a well-established family life. Both of them, thanks to the above-mentioned personal and family qualities and setting an excellent example with their scientific activities, not only gained the deep respect they deserved in the professorial corporation, but also had an irresistible charm and moral influence on many of their colleagues. From talented young associate professors of the 13th and other courses, students of the enlightened rector Nikanor, who died in the rank of Archbishop of Kherson and Odessa, a closely knit circle of workers was formed, which began to scientifically describe the Solovetsky manuscripts. This circle included at that time novice associate professors, but who later acquired honorable fame in science: N.V. Krasnoseltsev, N.I. Ivanovsky, M.I. Bogoslovsky, S.A. Ternovsky and others. A.V. Vadkovsky also joined this circle, working diligently and with enormous success for himself and science on the description, mainly, of the collections of Zlatostrui, Izmaragds, Teaching Gospels, etc. The inspector of the Academy in my time was the famous dissenter Prof. N.I. Ivanovsky, who, being a hospitable, hospitable host, grouped the entire academic corporation around himself and his house served as a center where the academic family exchanged with each other over a friendly, comradely meal on all topical issues of external and academic life. The professorial corporation, as a selection, consisted of gifted people and devoted to science, who made an honorable name for themselves: canonist I. S. Berdnikov, professor of comparative theology N. Ya. Belyaev, dogmatic theology E. A. Budrin, psychology V. A. Snigirev, metaphysics P. A. Miloslavsky, church history V. A. Kurganov and S. A. Tirnovsiy, biblical history Y. A. Bogorodsky, liturgists N. V. Krasnoseltsev, patrolology D. V. Gusev, Muslim scholar - Archpriest E. A. Malov, Lamaist V. V. Mirotvortsev, Holy Scripture M. I. Bogoslovsky. At that time, Yungerov, Mashanov, D.N. Belikov, Tsarevsky, Govorov, Vinogradov and your humble servant began their academic careers as professors. We were all lovingly treated by the professorial board and received everywhere like family. In particular, N.N. Vinogradov, temporarily acting as assistant inspector (now a venerable archpriest, who was for a long time an inspector of the Academy) and I, as the youngest in the academic corporation, were known as “chicks” and enjoyed special favor among the professors. Living in the building of the Academy, we often received, as welcome guests, professors and associate professors of the Academy, and on the 20th day of each month, after receiving a salary, or, as we put it then, after touching “the source of living water,” almost everyone, except the venerable elders, professors and associate professors, gathered in our modest apartment and over a modest meal, with some additions in terms of gastronomy, exchanged their feelings that excited everyone and thoughts. In lively debates, our conversations sometimes dragged on until late in the evening, and everyone left in the most complacent mood. It was here that I got to know even more closely the handsome, sincere personality of Alexander Vasilyevich, whom I and my roommate often visited in his apartment. In general, it should be said that in the time I am describing, the entire academic corporation lived as a close, friendly family, and its relations with the elders were respectful and reverent, and in relation to the extraordinary professors and associate professors, they were sincere and comradely, in which simplicity, frankness and sincerity reigned. In this atmosphere it was easy to feel and live, and not working for everyone, looking at others, seemed shameful and shameful. Scientific studies in a friendly academic family on the subjects of his favorite specialty, in connection with the scientific development of Alexander Vasilyevich, as a true Slavophile, the history of preaching among the southern Slavs completely absorbed his attention. The acute pain caused by the loss of his beloved wife gradually healed, and the accumulated debts that weighed on him were eliminated. The growing children, who began to learn to read and write, under the guidance of the teacher chosen for them, in the person of the Academy student Belyaev, later Exarch of Georgia Innocent, delighted him with their brilliant successes and brightened up his involuntary loneliness. But suddenly a new misfortune broke out over Alexander Vasilyevich’s head, which he was no longer able to bear and cry with his tears. Alexander Vasilyevich found himself in terrible, heavy loneliness within the four walls of his widow’s apartment. The terrible diphtheria, against which science at that time did not yet have life-saving medical remedies, and which his children in turn fell ill with, protected Alexander Vasilyevich’s home with a strict quarantine: friends, comrades and ladies of the academic corporation, who had hitherto taken a lively and even ardent part in it, stopped visiting him, for fear of bringing the terrible diphtheria into their families. At that time, only the student Belyaev crossed the threshold of his apartment, whose appearance at the bedside of the poor little sufferers brought them joy and for a while seemed to bring them back to life. The unfortunate father, deprived of any hope of bringing his dear little ones back to life, could only share his thoughts with this young, well-bred youth... Alone, without the help of strangers, Alexander Vasilyevich sat day and night at the head of his little sufferers. He remained lonely even when, one by one, the coffins of children dear to his heart appeared on the table in the front corner, and also, completely alone, he took them to the Arskoye cemetery to the grave of their mother, under her tender wing. His lonely apartment seemed eerie and gloomy to him, in which the chirping of little ones had recently filled his heart with lively joy. Black oppressive thoughts took possession of the entire being of the unfortunate bean. There was no way for him to trust anyone with his disturbing and depressing thoughts and broken intentions and plans. Even communication with city dwellers for an inhabitant of an academic settlement, separated by the Arsky field with inaccessible mud, in the autumn and spring months presented difficulties that were barely overcome and difficult. Even now, only the cheerful, intelligent student Belyaev brought some light into his soul, whose share in these dark days had to take care of Alexander Vasilyevich to the smallest detail... And it was this service of his young friend and student that the late Metropolitan Anthony highly valued and paid for it with the most ardent and sincere gratitude. Deep religiosity, brought up from childhood in a pious family of parents, came to the aid of the unfortunate sufferer and filled his head with the bright thought that everything that happened to him was from the Lord, who, in this difficult visit, showed him a different path of life, where he could find peace of soul and relief for his suffering heart. He immediately entrusted his matured plan to become a monk to the Kazan Archbishop Palladius, who with the greatest joy welcomed his good intention and hastened to tear him out of the oppressive situation that reminded him of the severe shocks of life he had experienced. Vladyka Palladius showed Alexander Vasilyevich a room in his bishop's house, hurried him with tonsure, sending him his own silk cassock as a gift, and at the same time took upon himself the care of his further career promotion. The unexpected news of Alexander Vasilyevich's acceptance of monasticism struck the entire academic family - professors and students, since at the Kazan Academy not only had there been no professorial monastic vows for a long time, but even the students were alienated from this high feat of Christian life. But we can now say with complete confidence that everyone who knew A.V. Vadkovoky well at that time recognized this step as natural, and the offensive, but ordinary human thought that he was choosing this path for the sake of his career did not enter anyone’s head. Everyone knew Alexander Vasilyevich’s high religious mood, and everyone encouraged him with the most sincere, heartfelt wishes for his new path. Professor A.I. Grenkov, as a chronicler, noting this significant fact in academic life on the pages of the “Orthodox Interlocutor”, wrote, among other things, the following interesting lines: “What emerges from the bowels of our Academy is not a young man who can temporarily become carried away by a high ideal, but a mature man in the full development of his spiritual powers. What will happen next generation? We cannot know all his beliefs, but we knew him as a person, a Christian and a comrade, and we believe that the ideal of monasticism will find artistic embodiment in him with its best and brightest sides.” In the first week of Lent on Friday, March 4, A.V. Vadkovsky was tonsured a monk with the name Anthony, in memory of its unforgettable good patron for the Academy, Archbishop Anthony of Kazan (Amphiteatrov). The housekeeper of the apostle's house, Hieromonk Ambrose, who was now the high post of governor of the Kiev Pechersk Lavra, was appointed as the spiritual leader of the newly tonsured man. A modest inhabitant of the Akademicheskaya Slobodka, hitherto almost unknown among the local Kazan intelligentsia and moving exclusively in the intimate circle of his fellow colleagues, after being tonsured as a monk, unexpectedly gains widespread popularity. Now Hieromonk Anthony became the subject of interest everywhere. Quite a lot of people began to seek his acquaintance and communication with him, finding him highly educated, handsome and even handsome, this must especially be said about the Kazan ladies who usually filled those churches in which Fr. Anthony. The Kazan Archbishop Palladius contributed a lot to his popularity, appointing him to serve with him on all solemn days, and often entrusting him with delivering sermons or speeches (this was the case on the church academic holiday, November 8, on the day of remembrance of Cyril and Methodius on May 12 on Kazan Square, etc.). In general, it should be said that Archbishop Palladius, delighted at the acquisition of a “philosophical” man for the Church of God, put forward Fr. Anthony and tried in every possible way to support him on his path to hierarchical elevation. In 1883, during the summer holidays, Fr. Anthony went on a trip to St. Petersburg and Moscow for scientific studies in the libraries there, in order to complete his work on the study of South Slavic preaching literature. But this was undoubtedly only a pretext, and in fact the journey was undertaken, on the advice of the benevolent Bishop Palladius, with the aim of appearing to the highest spiritual authorities. This is also supported by the fact that, having arrived in St. Petersburg on July 24, he stayed here only until the end of this month. But, despite the short duration of the stay, the secret goal was completely achieved. Father Anthony made a very pleasant impression on the venerable elder Metropolitan Isidore, who treated him kindly, moved him from a private apartment to the best premises of the Lavra and showed him special fatherly care, and even gave him a kind, encouraging and meaningful word at parting: “We will keep you in mind.” Chief Prosecutor K.P. Pobedonostsev and his comrade V.K. Sabler, by all means in their power, carefully tried to make Fr. Anthony pleasantly and by all means to facilitate his access to the capital's book treasures, usually closed in the summer. From St. Petersburg o. Anthony, in early August, arrived in Moscow and stayed with his old friend, from his student days, the bankrupt and sick landowner S.I. Zamyatin, with whom Fr. Anthony received his eldest daughter Claudia from the baptismal font. In this goddaughter, as well as in providing for the entire family, after Zamyatin’s death, the late Bishop, until the end of his life, took the most ardent part and provided her with significant material support 2. I was also in Moscow at that time to study in the local libraries. Little familiar with Moscow, Fr. Anthony found me in libraries and invited me to accompany him around Moscow, while seeing its sights. I willingly agreed to fulfill his request and spent three whole days with him inseparably. We even made a visit to the Moscow Metropolitan Ioannikiy in Cherkizovo together, although during the reception I was not in the Metropolitan’s chambers, but remained in the garden. This “stern” metropolitan, as Fr. characterized him. Anthony received the monk professor very restrainedly and recommended that he “not be guided by his desires and not declare them, but rely on the will of his superiors, who stand guard over the good and interests of the Orthodox Church and never lose sight of useful and necessary figures.” But even this “stern” rigorist metropolitan has the sympathetic personality of a young, modest, graceful monk, dressed in a black woolen duckweed, with two modest orders on his chest: St. Stanislav 3rd Art. and St. Anna 3rd century, made a very favorable impression, which should explain the persistent and repeatedly expressed desire by him later in the Holy Synod to have him as rector of the Moscow Theological Academy. In general, it should be said that Fr. Anthony himself was personally quite satisfied with his trip to both capitals, and, undoubtedly, with them he predetermined his further forward movement in his career. November 2, 1883 Fr. Anthony was elevated to the rank of archimandrite and through this rose even more significantly in the eyes of local Kazan society. But this attention was undoubtedly flattering. Anthony, however, did not give him either peace of mind or heart satisfaction. The cell of the St. John the Baptist Monastery, where he was abbot, despite the beautiful views of the Volga Valley surrounding Kazan from its windows, seemed both boring and gloomy to him. His soul and heart, under the monastic black cassock, tore and beckoned him beyond the gates of the holy monastery, to the simple but heartfelt old friends and acquaintances who loved him - to the academic and hospital settlements. In the evenings, he often appeared in the apartment of N. O. Krasnoseltsev, where Ya. A. Bogorodsky, N. P. Vinogradov, D. V. Gusev and I gathered. United by the hospitable hostess N.M. Krasnoseltseva, we spent the long autumn and winter evenings in a lively, friendly conversation, over a simple meal - “what God sent” - and went home very satisfied. Archbishop returned calm and happy after these friendly conversations. Anthony on the monastery horse to his monastery. At the beginning of March 1884, I left Kazan, having received an appointment to the full-time department of liturgics and church archeology at the Kyiv Theological Academy with the rank of associate professor, 3 and at the same time my personal connection with Archimandrite Anthony, as a colleague at the Academy, ceased. December 1, 1884 arch. Anthony was appointed inspector of the Kazan Theological Academy, in August 1885 he was transferred to the same position with the obligation to read the Holy Scripture of the Old Testament at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, and on April 17, 1887 he was appointed its rector, with the elevation to the rank of Bishop of Vyborg, vicar of the St. Petersburg Metropolis. By nature, very humane, brought up in the strict rules of a Christian-pious family and received a very solid training in Kazan in a closely knit comradely academic corporation, in which noble competition in scientific productivity and unconditional admiration for the true priests of science and knowledge were combined with reverence for senior colleagues, Arch. Anthony, having moved from Kazan to St. Petersburg, brought with him all these wonderful traditions and continued to be guided by them in his actions and relationships in his new place of service. The St. Petersburg Academy in its ranks had respectable names that enjoyed scientific fame, such as, for example, I. E. Troitsky, E. I. Lovyagin, A. L. Katansky, I. O. Nilsky, M. I. Karinsky, M. O. Koyalovich, O. G. Eleonsky, T. V. Barsov, Archpriest I. O. Nikolaevsky, Archpriest S. A. Solertinsky, V. V. Bolotov, I. S. Palmov, A. I. Ponomarev, Archimandrite Mikhail (Gribanovsky), N. A. Skabalanovich, N. V. Pokrovsky and others. Arch. Anthony transferred to this new comradely family the feelings of his deep respect and sincere respect, taking his place among them as a good comrade well disposed towards them. His popularity among the professorial corporation was greatly helped by the fact that, as if for the sake of great contrast, the head of the Academy was, although a good rector, Bishop Arseny (Bryantsev), but, due to his past, he had nothing to do with the highest theological school and science and, due to the nature of his practically vital mind, could not rise to understand the height of the position to which his spoiled fortune had elevated him. Thus, both the sympathetic qualities of a personal character, and the feelings of comradely solidarity acquired by long service experience at the Kazan Academy, and the deep respect for the venerable works and independence of opinions and judgments on the issues of everyone’s favorite specialty very soon won him sympathy in the new academic family and created him in the person of some even sincere and ardent admirers. The students of the Academy, having received the most accurate information about the personality of the new inspector from their comrades, students of the Kazan Academy, entered into the most sincere and trusting relationship with him, from the very first steps of his life in St. Petersburg, and maintained them until the appointment of Bishop Anthony to the Finnish diocese. They loudly declared their touching feelings of respectful filial love and deep respect for the personality of their former inspector and rector in their eloquent address when bidding farewell to him. Therefore, there is nothing unnatural in the fact that Vladyka Anthony felt his loneliness and missed Kazan and his friends and acquaintances left there only in the first years of his life in St. Petersburg. Little by little, both loneliness and boredom left him here too. Academic professors and various affairs, as well as new acquaintances in St. Petersburg high society and observation of the teaching of the Law of God in secular educational institutions, absorbed all his time and distracted him from dark thoughts, melancholy and loneliness. After my departure from Kazan to Kyiv, I had only written relations with Bishop Anthony, since, being busy with scientific work in the Orthodox East and in Western libraries, I did not visit St. Petersburg. Occasionally I received answers from him and I recognize one of them as very interesting for characterizing the personality of the late Bishop and his St. Petersburg experiences. April 17, 1887 arch. Anthony, appointed rector of the Academy, was consecrated Bishop of Vyborg. On this occasion, I wrote from Kiev to Bishop Anthony a letter of greeting and benevolence, to which on May 17 of the same year he responded as follows: “Dear Alexey Afanasyevich! I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kind, friendly, and benevolent letter. I read it with inexpressible joy. It transported my thought to the good old days, to dear Kazan, to dear nests where we once cheerfully welcomed the “chicks”. Nice times, nice people. I won’t say that I wasn’t comfortable here in St. Petersburg either. I feel good here too. Here too I feel like I’m in my own family. But my situation has changed so much compared to before that I can no longer give myself over to spontaneous, carefree gaiety. Now I have to learn etiquette. And this somewhat poisons the harmonious mood of the spirit. What to do? Let us learn this too, but to the extent that we preserve the freedom of spirit and the cordiality of our comradely relations. Sorry for the short and careless letter. Very lazy. I rejoice at your business trip. Essay Art. T. Golubeva 5 read Koyalovich 6 and Fr. Nikolaevsky. My bow to Mitrofan Filippovich. Isn't Natalya Timofeevna 8 in Kiev? If yes, then my heartfelt greetings to her too. Be healthy and happy. Loving you heartily. Bishop Anthony." Not soon, but very clearly, I had to see in practice how far Vladyka Anthony had gone in teaching himself St. Petersburg “etiquette.” When Vladyka was already Archbishop of Finland (1892–1898), when he lived at the Synodal Mitrofanievsky Metochion on the corner of Zvenigorodskaya and Kabinetskaya streets, I had to visit St. Petersburg for academic purposes. I came here for Christmastide and stayed until the second week of Lent. On the Sunday of the Prodigal, I decided to visit Vladyka Anthony and watch him in his holy service. Arriving at the Mitrofanievskoe metochion late, I, behind the many pilgrims, could not get into the church itself and was forced to stand at the door of the church throughout the liturgy until the end. After the deacon’s exclamation: “With the fear of God,” the bishop read the prayer: “I believe, Lord, and I confess,” which made it clear that before him stood an adult communicant, ready to begin the “cup of life.” Accustomed, according to Kyiv practice, to seeing communicants-pilgrims at almost every liturgy for a whole year, I was, not without surprise, present at the communion of pious adult pilgrims just two weeks before Great Lent. From the distance of my position from the altar, I could not see who was a communicant at this unusual time of the church year. At the end of the liturgy, I, along the street, through the main entrance from Kabinetskaya Street, went up to the Bishop’s chambers and entered the reception hall. The Bishop also blessed those praying in the church. A few minutes later, the bishop entered the hall through the door connecting the hall with the church and greeted me warmly. A lady came in behind the bishop - obviously a former communicant of the present day. Vladyka, having quickly introduced us, retired to the inner rooms to change clothes. Since we had mutual acquaintances from Kiev and the Riviera, I began a casual conversation with the new stranger, interrupted only by the return of the Bishop. Tea was offered to both of us, and then the Bishop invited us to eat bread and salt with him. The Vladyka's menu was as follows: small fish soup, boiled whitefish with potatoes and semolina. After dinner, I tried to immediately take leave of the Bishop, having received an invitation to visit him one evening, at about 5 o’clock, for tea. After two hours of eating, the master of the meal, I ate my usual lunch in the restaurant with gusto... Several days passed and I decided to repeat my visit to the bishop, timing it in the evening. I arrived at the Mitrofanievskoe metochion, however, about 20 minutes late. The bishop’s servant announced to me that the bishop was not completely healthy, and he found it difficult to say whether the bishop would receive me. I asked to report to him about my visit, bearing in mind that I would soon have to leave St. Petersburg. Vladyka was merciful and asked me to go to his bedroom, where he was sitting at work translating church liturgical books into Finnish. We quickly began a lively conversation about correcting our liturgical books in general and the bishop’s “Official” in particular. I told the Bishop that this “Official”, corrected by the Kyiv scholar, monk Euthymius, in 1677, under Patriarch Joachim, remains to this day in an extremely clumsy and unreadable text form of a literal translation from the Greek language (for example, “vtorvayai”, instead of the second, “nadrennik”, instead of enkoltion or panagia, “knee pad” instead of a club or epigonation, “hat” instead of a miter, etc. etc.), but even with errors of a dogmatic nature. In the rite, for example, of the Liturgy of St. Basil the Great from the Greek euphology, printed in Rome and reprinted in 1602 in Venice, the following tirade was entered and is preserved to this day: “The bishop bows his head, raises his right hand with reverence, blesses the holy bread, proclaims, saying: “Give to his saints disciple and apostle of the river: “Take, eat...”. The bishop exclaims, “Have your hand from above with reverence and blessing,” he says: “He gave to the saints his disciple and apostle the rivers: “Drink from it, all of you.” This feature was also in the Priestly Service Book until 1699, but due to disputes that arose between Kiev and Moscow scientists on the issue of the moment of transubstantiation of the Holy Gifts, at the direction of Patriarch Adrian, it was removed from here. “How is it that we, bishops, do not notice this strange feature?” – the Bishop asked me briskly. “For a very simple reason,” I answered, “You, bishops, learn to serve the Liturgy according to the Jewish Missal, and when, after the arterial consecration, the “Official” is brought to you, then at the Liturgy itself you read only the prayers of the liturgy printed in the Gospel font, which have only the most insignificant features in the text, and it is up to you to read the cinnabar notes in the “Official” no time. We professors, on the contrary, read the “Official” of the bishop’s clergy at home, in the study room, and pay more attention to the cinnabar remarks than even to the very text of the liturgical prayers.” Thus, having a lively conversation on a question that interested us equally, the Bishop, interrupting the conversation, unexpectedly inquired: “Have you been drinking tea?” “No,” I calmly answered him, “I was counting on your tea.” Vladyka ordered the samovar to be prepared and the tea table to be served in the same bedroom where we were sitting. The servant carried out the bishop's order and after a short period of time a tea table was brought into the bedroom, covered with an immaculately clean tablecloth. A small elegant Tumpak samovar and a tea set of the finest porcelain appeared on the table. An artistic tea towel was placed under the bishop's hands. The Bishop, sitting down at the table, performed the duties of the most scrupulous, helpful housewife: he carefully wiped the previously immaculately washed cups with a towel, poured tea from the teapot through a silver tea strainer, carefully, carefully placing pieces of sugar with silver tongs and, then, handing me this elegant little cup, offered cookies, jam or lemon. So this whole procedure and atmosphere reminded me little of the simplicity and patriarchy of the modest inhabitant of the Milmanovsky house of the Academic Slobodka. Having emptied the small cup quite quickly, I asked the bishop to pour me a second cup. The Bishop repeated with methodical precision the above-described procedure of filling the second cup with tea, and, taking an impeccably clean handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his forehead with it. I realized that it would be inconvenient to continue drinking tea and, having finished the second cup, began to thank the bishop for his hospitality. Rising from the table, he asked me to go to his office, since the samovar supposedly made the bedrooms quite warm. In the office, I did not tire the bishop with a long conversation and soon said goodbye to him, declaring: that I’m leaving for Kyiv. Around 9 pm, without “etiquette,” I finished my evening tea in the hotel room where I had a temporary stay in St. Petersburg. With the appointment of Bishop Anthony in 1898 to the see of Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Ladoga, my connection with him did not break, and from time to time I bothered him with letters with various kinds of requests and petitions, which for the most part were fulfilled by the bishop. I cannot hide here that I often disturbed Vladyka Anthony with petitions for my former comrades at the Kazan Academy or for former students at the Kyiv Academy, who for some reason were offended by fate and could not rise to the position that, in my opinion, belonged to them due to their natural talents and moral qualities, as well as due to their modest but useful activity in the official position they occupied and where they were sometimes unfairly defeated and subjected to superior “special discretion.” It is remarkable that Vladyka Antoshi was especially supportive and attentive to these people offended by fate. I interceded with the Bishop on behalf of my Academy comrade Vladimir (Blagorazumov), the former Bishop of Blagoveshchensk, who died in 1914. retired in the Nezhinsky Annunciation Monastery. When Fr. Vladimir, after his very diligent educational and missionary activities in Volyn, for a long time, as a mentor of the Chisinau Theological Seminary, somehow huddled in the bishop's house and eked out a miserable existence, I asked the bishop to turn his merciful attention to him. After my letter, Fr. Vladimir was summoned to St. Petersburg, appointed junior censor and then received further hierarchical and service promotion, enjoying the favor of the bishop and subsequently, although the official diocesan activities of the bishop. Vladimir, was not without its rough edges, and did not always find approval from the bishop. He felt sorry for him as a nervous, sick man - an old man who could not pull himself together and was not able to restrain his restless heart impulses, which sometimes stemmed from the most noble and lofty motives. I put in a good word before the late Bishop and for Bishop Theodosius (Oltarzhevsky), who died in 1914 in the rank of Bishop of Orenburg and Turgai, when he, for refusing to be appointed to the post of rector of the Kazan Theological Academy, by the Holy Synod, as a disobedient one, was exiled to the Bizyukov Monastery (Kherson Diocese) to the position of a private his brother and suffered all kinds of hardships there. Depicting his difficult mental state and the appalling poverty of the situation that brought Bishop. Feodosia to the need to apply for funds even in the amount of 10 rubles. to my elderly mother, I asked Metropolitan Anthony to alleviate the fate of the young bishop who had unwittingly fallen into disgrace. Vladyka was merciful, heeded my request and soon recommended bishop. Theodosius in the vicar of the Poltava diocese, from where he was, in a short time, elected rector of his native Kyiv Academy, and from here he received an appointment to the independent Orenburg diocese. Nowadays it is no longer a secret that my intervention in the fate of Bishop Theodosius, since Metropolitan Anthony’s letters to him were published in the obituary of this bishop, on the pages of the Orenburg Diocesan Gazette. The exceptional, almost anecdotal, vicissitudes of fate of the now living Vladikavkaz Bishop Antonin, his undeniable, extraordinary spiritual gifts and stubborn, indestructible perseverance in scientific works in the field of studying the text of the books of Holy Scripture, in connection with his stoic calmness and Little Russian humor, brilliantly discovered at his master's colloquium, gave me solid reason to recommend Fr. Antonin (Granovsky) to Bishop Metropolitan Anthony and ask him to show this talented man the use of his strengths and the erudition accumulated by hard work. And this time Metropolitan Anthony was not deaf to my recommendation. ABOUT. Antonin soon appears in St. Petersburg as a spiritual censor, declares himself with his original judgments at so-called philosophical meetings and in the daily press, and becomes so close to the late Metropolitan Anthony that the latter even decides to elect him as his closest assistant in diocesan administration, as vicar of the St. Petersburg diocese. The venerable congregation well remembers the activities of Bishop Antonin in the diocese and I believe that they have not forgotten the time when he modestly huddled as an ordinary brother of the Sergius Monastery, Petrograd Diocese, receiving 50 rubles for his maintenance from the bounty of the metropolitan. per month. It is also difficult to forget how Bishop Antonin thanked his benefactor in the difficult dying weeks of his earthly existence. Bishop Antonin, among the few devoted and close to Metropolitan Anthony (Archbishop Innocent and Bishop Nikandr), spent days and nights at the bedside of the seriously ill bishop and with his filial ardent love and complete devotion to him amazed everyone, earning thereby, as we know, the oblivion of his voluntary and involuntary sins on the part of the highest church officials. I will not name the names of our other hierarchs still living, in whose fate Metropolitan Anthony, as I well know, took an active part, but I will only say a few words about my personal relationships and requests to the Metropolitan, which for the most part were also not ignored and fulfilled by him. In 1899, at the age of 45, I married A.I. Nikonova, who was 25 years old. Having informed the Metropolitan about this change in my life, some time later I received from him a humorous, very characteristic and, for many reasons, later providential letter, dated April 4, 1890: “Dearest Alexey Afanasyevich. Today is exactly 4 months since I received your letter. As you can see, I am also not in a hurry regarding correspondence, just as you were leisurely in getting married. But better late than never, and I am sincerely glad that you have finally acquired your own warm corner, have found a lifelong friend. I prayerfully wish that your life will be joyful, bright, happy. Your wife will probably have a lot of trouble with you. Although you are young now, you were still an old bachelor. But all old bachelors are decent eccentrics, and often they are even completely savages. To tame such a savage, and even a scribe and a professor, is far from an easy task. Well, God help you both. I hope that as a former “young chick,” as we called you in Kazan, you will not be offended by me for these humorous lines of mine. I will repeat again that I am sincerely happy for you. There was no report at the Synod about the matters you wrote about, and therefore I cannot say anything about them. I congratulate you and your young wife on this bright holiday and send you both Easter greetings. Christ is Risen! Ask your spouse to teach you the rules of politeness. In your letter you introduced your wife to me, but did not mention her by name. I don’t think that in this case you observed proper politeness towards your wife. God bless you. “Your heartily devoted M.A.” In 1890, Bishop Sergius (Lanin) of Uman, vicar of the Kyiv Metropolis, who died in the rank of archbishop of Yaroslavl, convinced me to begin compiling 9 “Proteges” or a historical-archaeological and canonical-procedural explanation and presentation of all the ranks of consecrations and consecrations. In the rite of episcopal consecration, I was intrigued by the form of the bishop's oath, the historical fate of which is of enormous scientific interest. Not being able to get the necessary answers and questions that worried me in Kyiv, I turned to St. Petersburg - for their resolution - to the late liturgist Archpriest K. T. Nikolsky and to Metropolitan Anthony. The latter not only gave me the necessary information, but also provided me with excerpts from the proceedings of the Holy Synod on this issue and even sent me a new order of the bishop’s oath, which he had corrected. This last circumstance gave me the moral duty to dedicate my book “Petitioner” to the Bishop, as my unforgettable teacher. This book, in good binding, upon its publication, was sent to the bishop, who, to my surprise, beyond all my expectations, left this offering of mine with dedication without any answer. I was embarrassed to seek an explanation for this incomprehensible circumstance from the Bishop himself, and... his silence remained a mystery to me. About my correspondence with Metropolitan Anthony regarding the touching letter of my 16-year-old weakened and mute niece Lyuba to the unforgettable memory of Fr. John of Kronstadt, for whom the late Bishop had the deepest and sincere feelings of love and respect, 10 with a request to pray for her healing, I had the opportunity to give a detailed speech at a meeting of the Society for Religious and Moral Education in the spirit of the Orthodox Church, dedicated to the memory of Fr. Archpriest John Ilyich Sergiev - Kronstadt (See Church Ved. 1911, No. 50, pp. 2211–2212). In 1905, when, at the request of the former Vice-Chairman of the Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society N.M. Anichkov, Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod P.P. Izvolsky wished to summon me to St. Petersburg to participate in the Pre-Conciliar presence, Bishop Metropolitan Anthony not only willingly agreed to this call, but then at all meetings of this meeting he always most listened favorably to my sometimes very extensive remarks on issues of an ecclesiastical, practical and liturgical nature. However, it is not superfluous to mention here that Metropolitan Anthony at this meeting, as the chairman, generally showed amazing tolerance for the judgments of the members of the meeting of the most diverse beliefs and temperaments, skillfully and very skillfully always restored the order that was somehow disturbed by the restless speaker and perfectly summed up everything that was said. All this, of course, was not easy for Bishop Metropolitan Anthony, and only willpower could give him the energy to successfully bring this “Conference” to the end. Simultaneously with the lively debates in the Pre-Conciliar presence, there were no less lively conversations on issues of church life and liturgical issues in the hall of religious and moral education in the spirit of the Orthodox Church, on Stremyannaya, at the so-called pastoral meetings with the participation of church elders. Metropolitan Anthony found the time to attend these meetings and the strength to take a very active part in them. At the invitation of the Bishop and even in his carriage, it fell to my lot to attend these memorable meetings. At one of them I even gave a report “about the Chalice, life”, which, unfortunately, as many members of the Society know, was not heard to the end and caused protests from some members of the meeting. Vladyka Metropolitan Anthony, in order to calm troubled minds, decided to say his authoritative word in defense of the arguments I had given, which, as you know, gave his ill-wishers a reason to slander him later in the press. As is known, it was around the time of the meetings of the “Pre-Conciliar Presence” that a vile libel against Metropolitan Anthony and Doctor Dubrovin appeared in the press. This libel deeply struck all the sincere admirers of Bishop Anthony, and among the members of the Pre-Conciliar Presence the idea immediately arose to unanimously express their deep sympathy to their talented and handsome chairman. An icon was purchased by subscription and, at the end of one of the meetings. presented to Metropolitan Anthony, and Archbishop Sergius of Finland, in a touching speech, expressed on behalf of the Presence the overwhelming feelings of indignation at the libelant and the warmest sympathy for the personality and high moral qualities of his chairman. Excited by the surprise of the honour, the Bishop cordially thanked the members of the Pre-Conciliar Presence and openly declared that he forgives his enemies for this cruel insult. “Let God be their Judge,” Metropolitan Anthony concluded his response speech to the members of the Presence. In 1907, on May 21, I met with Metropolitan Anthony in New Peterhof in the large palace. On this day, on the occasion of the 25-year existence of the Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society, the Metropolitan, in the presence of Their Imperial Majesties, many Grand Dukes, ministers, members of the Holy Synod, elected members of the Society and its Council, performed a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord God, and then was present in the merchant's hall of the palace at the solemn meeting of the Society. Here according to position and. O. Secretary of the Society, I had the high honor, in the presence of Their Majesties and the most selected Persons of the spiritual and secular society, to deliver a speech on the topic: “Sovereign defenders and patrons of the Holy Land and August pilgrims at the Life-Giving Sepulcher of the Lord.” Preparing for this rare solemn meeting in the Peterhof Palace, having grown gray in studying all the subtleties of court etiquette, they inquired from me about the size and content of my speech and gave instructions at what pace and tone to pronounce it, where to stand at the meeting table, located in the form of a rest, not to burden the attention of the August listeners for more than 12-15 minutes, and also how to behave in the event that if the Sovereign Emperor deigns to honor me with a gracious conversation, etc. Unaccustomed to making speeches in such an audience, I, frankly speaking, did not feel entirely at ease. But, when the moment came to deliver the speech, my anxiety, from the very first word, completely disappeared and I, forgetting about the warnings and comments given to me the day before, delivered the speech clearly and distinctly, in the manner familiar to me from a student audience. Although the speech dragged on for 18 minutes, according to the general feedback from my distinguished listeners, the manner of delivering it satisfied them all. The Emperor graciously thanked me with a handshake and deigned to inquire from me about my past career. When, after the meeting, tea was offered to all the guests in the Petrovsky Hall, the late Bishop Metropolitan Anthony came up to me and, thanking me for the speech, added the following: “And I, Alexei Afanasyevich, while you were delivering your speech, was mentally transported to our dear Kazan, to our native Academy. A real luxurious audience, your most august and dignified listeners, in contrast, reminded me of a modest academic student room for evening classes, where you and I studied practical lessons in homiletics in the fourth year. Was it possible to assume that we would meet you under such circumstances? Your destinies are inscrutable, Lord,” the bishop concluded his speech, making the sign of the cross on himself. With the transition to permanent residence in St. Petersburg in December 1907, taking the place of secretary in the Imperial Orthodox Palestine Society, I already saw the late Bishop quite often. I usually arrived at five o'clock just in time for evening tea. Over a cup of tea, we most often talked about church issues related to the life of the modern Orthodox East. The Bishop was interested in all the eastern patriarchates, but his special attention was drawn to the outstanding personalities of the late Ecumenical Patriarch Joachim VII and the Patriarch of Alexandria Photius (Peroglu), to this day. live well. “Here is your friend,” as Bishop usually called Patriarch Photius, with whom I had to share his exile in Sinai for four months, and then defend him in the press from unfair criticism of Russophobia, “does not answer me either to my fraternal messages, or to my congratulatory telegrams on the occasion of the holidays of the Nativity of Christ and Holy Easter. Well, that’s his business, and I will continue to bother him with my telegrams 11 ". When the Arab movement arose in Jerusalem in 1908, which entailed the temporary deposition of the hitherto living elderly, weak-willed Patriarch Dashan, Metropolitan Anthony keenly followed all the vicissitudes of this tragicomedy and on the day of the Nativity of Christ greeted the deposed patriarch with a deeply cordial and warm telegram, which, as he later confessed to me in 1910 Most blessed Damian, was a bright ray in his sorrowful soul and will not be forgotten by him until his death. On one of these evening visits to the Bishop, I found Maria Nikolaevna Dondukova-Korsakova with him, who was close to the late Bishop due to his prison activities. During our conversation, Bishop was informed about Doctor Dubrovin’s visit to him. Vladyka immediately left the tea table, went to change his clothes, put on a panagia and a white hood and, calling the name of his visitor, asked us to retire to the inner office near Krestovaya and went out into the living room. Maria Nikolaevna and I were having a lively conversation on various religious issues and did not hear what was happening in the living room. Half an hour later, an agitated bishop came to us and stated that Doctor Dubrovin asked him for forgiveness for the insult caused to him by his literary libel. “Glory to You, Lord! Perhaps I will have one less enemy,” added the bishop, crossing himself. About the late Metropolitan Anthony, there was a prejudiced belief among some that he was a man of weak character. “Whoever takes our Metropolitan like a broom sweeps him,” people who had little chance to observe him closely used to say about him. Obviously, his innate delicacy in dealing with everyone, his rare tolerance for opinions and views, even unpleasant to him, his complete lack of desire to suppress or even destroy a person with his authority and strong, cruel words, were taken for his lack of character. Knowing Bishop Anthony closely, I can testify that he was not only a man of character, but sometimes even persistent to the point of stubbornness. I will not focus the attention of this meeting on an event that is memorable to many of those present here and dates back to 1886, when Bishop Anthony, at that time archimandrite and inspector of the St. Petersburg Academy, became so “excited” about an unpleasant student story, as he himself described this incident, that he sent a “harsh letter” to the rector of the Academy, Bishop Arseny, with a statement that by Easter he would even submit a petition for resignation, so that, after traveling to the Orthodox East - to Palestine for pilgrimage purposes, then to settle on Mount Athos or in some other “desert monastery”. Here, as proof of my characterization, I will try to outline in more or less detail one important event that took place already during the period of the Bishop’s painful condition, not long before his death, when he no longer felt the solid ground above him that was under his feet in the first years of his metropolitan service in St. Petersburg. In 1910, with the support of His Eminence Metropolitan Vladimir of Moscow, Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Elizaveta Feodorovna, who created the Martha and Mary community in Moscow, filed a petition in the Holy Synod for approval of the general rites drawn up (March 31, 1910) “how to take vows to sisters and abbess Marfo-Mariinskaya Convent of Mercy" and "resolution of the abbess of the Marfo-Mariinskaya Convent of Mercy" with an explanatory note entitled: "Temporary Charter of the Marfo-Mariinskaya Convent of Mercy on the goals and objectives of the monastery." This question became somewhat more complicated, since in the “ranks” there was a similarity with the rank of deaconesses, which took place in the practice of the ancient Christian Church and fell out of it in the 12th century, when the very institution of deaconesses ceased to exist in the Orthodox Church. At that time, even such a current of thought appeared in society to restore the institution of deaconesses in its entirety and even with those external liturgical distinctions and rights that were enjoyed by the “eldresses” of this denomination, who were classified as members of the church clergy. From letters from Fr. the confessor of the Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, who wrote to me on this issue, it was clear that Her Highness would not even be averse to receiving consecration as a deaconess if the Holy Synod had demanded this consecration from her. In January 1911, I received from the Manager of the Office of the Holy Synod, S.P. Grigorevsky, an offer to give “in the shortest possible time” my review of these rites for a report to the Holy Synod. At the same time, the same request was sent to the famous canonist, the late Professor I. S. Berdnikov in Kazan. Although our reviews did not coincide in essence, we both found it possible to freely restore in our practice the ancient rank of deaconess in its entirety, since, according to the testimony of ancient canonists, this rank went out of practice due to the lack of need for the institution of deaconesses, and the name itself continued to live in church practice somewhat later than the 12th century. In any case, there is no known conciliar determination regarding the termination of the rank of deaconesses. At the same time with us, as I well know, His Eminence Metropolitan Vladimir continued to work on the same issue, having collected a huge literature on the rank of deaconesses and on the existence of this institution in our ancient church practice, meaning, of course, to appear at the Holy Synod fully armed in order to carry out the issue that interested him in the Holy Synod without any special difficulties. But, despite the fact that the speaker and defender on the issue of deaconesses was one of the oldest and most respected members of the Holy Synod, Metropolitan Vladimir, with whom from his youth until the end of his life, Metropolitan Anthony maintained the best cordial relations, and that the Most August Person, Her Highness Grand Duchess Elizabeth, was keenly interested in a favorable resolution of the issue Fedorovna, and, finally, that the information requested from the canonist and liturgist professors turned out to be positive and proving the possibility of restoring both the rank of deaconesses and the institution of deaconesses, Metropolitan Anthony found it possible to ardently prove in the Holy Synod that this restoration is possible only at the upcoming and expected council. As is known, for scientific reinforcements, Metropolitan Anthony turned to the professors of his St. Petersburg Academy, and even supposedly in search of evidence, he was not completely unsuccessful. Be that as it may, the question of deaconesses in its original form, thanks to the persistence of Metropolitan Anthony, did not receive a positive resolution and stopped, one might say, halfway. Metropolitan Anthony loved the Caucasus and its rich nature and highly valued the various healing waters of the healing places of Pyatigorsk, Essentuki, Zheleznovodsk and Kislovodsk. The Bishop enjoyed special sympathy from Kislovodsk, where he often went on summer holidays long before his serious illness. Here he invariably stopped behind the cathedral at the dacha of the artist, it seems Stepanov. This dacha has a spacious balcony over a cliff, in which a vast shady garden is spread out along its picturesque slopes, connected to the public park by special paths leading then to the mountains surrounding Kislovodsk. It was here, in a simple cassock and a hat on his head, with a wand in his hand, that the Bishop would retire for an evening or solitary walk, or often in the company of one of the bishops who visited the Bishop who were on the waters (lately the Exarch of Georgia Innokenty Belyaev often visited the Bishop), or professors of the Academy he knew, or even with someone he knew and liked from the resort public. By 5 o'clock - evening tea - a fairly significant and diverse audience sometimes gathered on the Bishop's balcony and had a relaxed conversation on all the issues of the day, while admiring the lovely view of the mountains and enjoying the evening invigorating coolness. At the elegantly served tea table, the Bishop personally played the role of the most attentive host towards his guests. Kislovodsk was accustomed to visits from Bishop Anthony and always greeted him very cordially, showing him signs of deep respect and attention. The Bishop’s name day, July 10, was held in Kislovodsk in a festive mood, and the Bishop’s dacha both in the morning and evening of this day saw within its walls very many visitors - admirers of the birthday Bishop. Dubrovin’s libel, the years of political turmoil in Russia, the wavering of minds not only among the intelligentsia and the common people, but even among the clergy, newspaper persecution directed at the Bishop by conservative representatives of the Russian people, etc., however, did their job and completely undermined the Bishop’s lackluster health. Restrained and always calm, the ruler in appearance was not like that internally, and all the failures and disappointments echoed in his kind heart with excruciating pain. Weak nerves could not stand it and the bishop was struck by a nervous attack, which resulted in paralysis of the arm, mild memory loss and difficulty speaking. Having handed over the management of the eparchy to his first vicar. Vladyka went to his beloved Kislovodsk for serious treatment. The healing waters of Narzan, wonderful air, a strict regimen of life and the art of medical luminaries helped the bishop to improve his weakened health with relative ease. Although his memory and speech organs were still far from normal, nevertheless, Bishop Anthony, having returned to St. Petersburg, after the first course of treatment in the Caucasus, began making appointments for diocesan administration and going to meetings of the Holy Synod. True, all his subordinates who loved Vladyka, seeing that his health had not completely recovered and that he was making great efforts to show his vital activity, spared him in every possible way and tried not to tire him with long and frequent visits to him, especially on unimportant issues. The Bishop’s repeated trips to Kislovodsk, apparently, had an even more beneficial effect on his health, and he himself and the people sincerely disposed towards him were no longer averse to deluding themselves with even unfulfilled hopes for the complete restoration of the Bishop’s health. The Bishop spent his last season in Kislovodsk in the summer of 1912 with special care in this direction. The strictest regime was established. Service concerns were reduced to a minimum. Visits of outsiders to the Bishop are limited. The patient lived with his sister, who surrounded him with maternal tenderness, and saw only his doctors and those closest to him, such as the Exarch of Georgia Innocent and others. Even on the day of the angel of the ruler, all visits and signs of attention from admirers were canceled. Vladyka swam, walked, enjoyed nature and worked on himself to restore fluency in speech and strengthen his weakened memory. I spent the month of July 1912 in Essentuki, taking advantage of the healing waters of its springs. Having heard from people who saw Vladyka that he was recovering and feeling quite cheerful, before leaving for St. Petersburg, I wished, as I remembered, to visit Vladyka at 5 o’clock. for evening tea. But, having arrived at the dacha at that hour, I, to my surprise, learned from the cell attendant that the bishop was still resting. I had to wander around the garden for about half an hour or even more, waiting for the Bishop to awaken, who greeted my appearance with lively joy and immediately sat me down in the dining room, where the Bishop’s sister and the owner of the dacha were, for tea. Vladyka was unusually animated and talkative. He launched into distant Kazan memories, trying to call all his old acquaintances by name and patronymic and expressing genuine joy when these names and patronymics quickly arose in his memory and were given to him easily on the tongue. At the same time, Vladyka initiated me into his daily activities, or, rather, exercises in reading the texts of the Gospel and church liturgical texts, so that later during divine services he could avoid the difficulties that he now experiences in language due to his illness. “I would like,” added the Bishop, “to begin serving in churches. My only problem is that I have developed a fear of space, and therefore timidity attacks me due to fear that something bad might happen to me during the service. After all, you know very well that we are being watched both from above and from below.” I recommended that the Bishop not rush into solemn services in such large churches as St. Isaac’s and Kazan Cathedrals, as well as the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, but to begin the service in his home church of the cross and, just in case, have a vicar with him, who, in the event of a sudden illness, could always replace the Bishop and not cause confusion in the order of the service. I stayed with the bishop for more than an hour and left him with the most cordial wishes for a safe journey and a speedy meeting in St. Petersburg. But I was no longer destined to see the lord alive again. I considered it my moral duty to fervently pray at the funeral services at the timeless tomb of the Bishop for the repose of his soul in the villages of the righteous. Having returned from the Caucasus on September 26, 1912, by all accounts, relatively cheerful, Metropolitan Anthony not only began to correct his high and complex duties, but on October 21, even with the members of the Holy Synod in the Lavra, he performed a prayer service of thanks to the Lord God on the occasion of the accession to the throne of the Sovereign Emperor. This forcing of his health, contrary to the advice of doctors and friends of the Bishop, was not in vain, and on the 23rd he went to bed, from which he never rose again, betraying his spirit to God on November 3, 1912. In general, A.V. Vadkovsky, as a professor of homiletics, was quite correctly portrayed by my friend at the Academy and department M.P. Troitsky in his short memoirs, published in Berlin in the magazine “Church Truth”, 1913, No. 5, pp. 128–130, published by Archpriest A.I. Maltsev. Metropolitan Anthony’s Academy comrade A.L. Krylov speaks in detail about this family in his memoirs (Instruction and Consolation of the Holy Christian Faith, 1913, No. 8, p. 365 (Aeon ed.). In Kazan, I was a private lecturer, read “The History of Worship in the Russian Church” for almost two years and was an assistant librarian at the academic fundamental library. A business trip for academic purposes to the Orthodox East for a whole year with an allowance of 900 rubles. from the Holy Synod, which lasted from September 1. 1887 to 1 Sep. 1888 S. T. Golubev, associate professor of the Kiev Theological Academy, who presented his essay “Kiev Theological Academy” to the Council of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy for the degree of doctor of church history. Professors of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy Koyalovich and Fr. Nikolaevsky reviewers of the mentioned essay by Mr. Golubev. M. F. Yastrebov, prof. Kiev Academy and fellow countryman of the Bishop. Prof.'s mother Kyiv Spirit. Academician F. A. Ternovsky. A guide for clergy and those elected to the bishopric during their consecrations, initiations and awards of spiritual distinctions, with a detailed explanation of all rituals and prayers. Kyiv. 1904 Dedication: Dedicated to His Eminence, His Eminence Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg and Ladoga with deep gratitude by a grateful student. Very interesting facts about this favor towards Fr. I. I. Sergiev reports in his memoirs about Metropolitan Anthony A. Krylov (Instructions and consolations of the holy Christian faith. 1913 No. 9, p. 41. Patriarch Photius, during my meeting with him in Cairo in 1910, expressed to me the deepest feelings of sympathy and respect for the personality of Metropolitan Anthony and was about to break his vowed silence, the reasons for which lay in the fact that the Russian Holy Synod left unanswered the protest against his unjust and cruel exile to the Sinai monastery for seven years by Patriarch Nicodemus I. of Jerusalem.