(e) The Russian Monk and his possible Significance.



    FATHERS and teachers, what is the monk? In the cultivated world

the word is nowadays pronounced by some people with a jeer, and by

others it is used as a term of abuse, and this contempt for the monk

is growing. It is true, alas, it is true, that there are many

sluggards, gluttons, profligates, and insolent beggars among monks.

Educated people point to these: "You are idlers, useless members of

society, you live on the labour of others, you are shameless beggars."

And yet how many meek and humble monks there are, yearning for

solitude and fervent prayer in peace! These are less noticed, or

passed over in silence. And how suprised men would be if I were to say

that from these meek monks, who yearn for solitary prayer, the

salvation of Russia will come perhaps once more! For they are in truth

made ready in peace and quiet "for the day and the hour, the month and

the year." Meanwhile, in their solitude, they keep the image of Christ

fair and undefiled, in the purity of God's truth, from the times of

the Fathers of old, the Apostles and the martyrs. And when the time

comes they will show it to the tottering creeds of the world. That

is a great thought. That star will rise out of the East.

    That is my view of the monk, and is it false? Is it too proud?

Look at the worldly and all who set themselves up above the people

of God; has not God's image and His truth been distorted in them? They

have science; but in science there is nothing but what is the object

of sense. The spiritual world, the higher part of man's being is

rejected altogether, dismissed with a sort of triumph, even with

hatred. The world has proclaimed the reign of freedom, especially of

late, but what do we see in this freedom of theirs? Nothing but

slavery and self-destruction! For the world says:

    "You have desires and so satisfy them, for you have the same

rights as the most rich and powerful. Don't be afraid of satisfying

them and even multiply your desires." That is the modern doctrine of

the world. In that they see freedom. And what follows from this

right of multiplication of desires? In the rich, isolation and

spiritual suicide; in the poor, envy and murder; for they have been

given rights, but have not been shown the means of satisfying their

wants. They maintain that the world is getting more and more united,

more and more bound together in brotherly community, as it overcomes

distance and sets thoughts flying through the air.

    Alas, put no faith in such a bond of union. Interpreting freedom

as the multiplication and rapid satisfaction of desires, men distort

their own nature, for many senseless and foolish desires and habits

and ridiculous fancies are fostered in them. They live only for mutual

envy, for luxury and ostentation. To have dinners visits, carriages,

rank, and slaves to wait on one is looked upon as a necessity, for

which life, honour and human feeling are sacrificed, and men even

commit suicide if they are unable to satisfy it. We see the same thing

among those who are not rich, while the poor drown their unsatisfied

need and their envy in drunkenness. But soon they will drink blood

instead of wine, they are being led on to it. I ask you is such a

man free? I knew one "champion of freedom" who told me himself that,

when he was deprived of tobacco in prison, he was so wretched at the

privation that he almost went and betrayed his cause for the sake of

getting tobacco again! And such a man says, "I am fighting for the

cause of humanity."

    How can such a one fight? What is he fit for? He is capable

perhaps of some action quickly over, but he cannot hold out long.

And it's no wonder that instead of gaining freedom they have sunk into

slavery, and instead of serving, the cause of brotherly love and the

union of humanity have fallen, on the contrary, into dissension and

isolation, as my mysterious visitor and teacher said to me in my

youth. And therefore the idea of the service of humanity, of brotherly

love and the solidarity of mankind, is more and more dying out in

the world, and indeed this idea is sometimes treated with derision.

For how can a man shake off his habits? What can become of him if he

is in such bondage to the habit of satisfying the innumerable

desires he has created for himself? He is isolated, and what concern

has he with the rest of humanity? They have succeeded in

accumulating a greater mass of objects, but the joy in the world has

grown less.

    The monastic way is very different. Obedience, fasting, and prayer

are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real, true

freedom. I cut off my superfluous and unnecessary desires, I subdue my

proud and wanton will and chastise it with obedience, and with God's

help I attain freedom of spirit and with it spiritual joy. Which is

most capable of conceiving a great idea and serving it- the rich in

his isolation or the man who has freed himself from the tyranny of

material things and habits? The monk is reproached for his solitude,

"You have secluded yourself within the walls of the monastery for your

own salvation, and have forgotten the brotherly service of

humanity!" But we shall see which will be most zealous in the cause of

brotherly love. For it is not we, but they, who are in isolation,

though they don't see that. Of old, leaders of the people came from

among us, and why should they not again? The same meek and humble

ascetics will rise up and go out to work for the great cause. The

salvation of Russia comes from the people. And the Russian monk has

always been on the side of the people. We are isolated only if the

people are isolated. The people believe as we do, and an unbelieving

reformer will never do anything in Russia, even if he is sincere in

heart and a genius. Remember that! The people will meet the atheist

and overcome him, and Russia will be one and orthodox. Take care of

the peasant and guard his heart. Go on educating him quietly. That's

your duty as monks, for the peasant has God in his heart.



         (f) Of Masters and Servants, and of whether it is

             possible for them to be Brothers in the Spirit.



    Of course, I don't deny that there is sin in the peasants too. And

the fire of corruption is spreading visibly, hourly, working from

above downwards. The spirit of isolation is coming upon the people

too. Money-lenders and devourers of the commune are rising up. Already

the merchant grows more and more eager for rank, and strives to show

himself cultured though he has not a trace of culture, and to this end

meanly despises his old traditions, and is even ashamed of the faith

of his fathers. He visits princes, though he is only a peasant

corrupted. The peasants are rotting in drunkenness and cannot shake

off the habit. And what cruelty to their wives, to their children

even! All from drunkenness! I've seen in the factories children of

nine years old, frail, rickety, bent and already depraved. The

stuffy workshop, the din of machinery, work all day long, the vile

language and the drink, the drink- is that what a little child's heart

needs? He needs sunshine, childish play, good examples all about

him, and at least a little love. There must be no more of this, monks,

no more torturing of children, rise up and preach that, make haste,

make haste!

    But God will save Russia, for though the peasants are corrupted

and cannot renounce their filthy sin, yet they know it is cursed by

God and that they do wrong in sinning. So that our people still

believe in righteousness, have faith in God and weep tears of

devotion.

    It is different with the upper classes. They, following science,

want to base justice on reason alone, but not with Christ, as

before, and they have already proclaimed that there is no crime,

that there is no sin. And that's consistent, for if you have no God

what is the meaning of crime? In Europe the people are already

rising up against the rich with violence, and the leaders of the

people are everywhere leading them to bloodshed, and teaching them

that their wrath is righteous. But their "wrath is accursed, for it is

cruel." But God will save Russia as He has saved her many times.

Salvation will come from the people, from their faith and their

meekness.

    Fathers and teachers, watch over the people's faith and this

will not be a dream. I've been struck all my life in our great

people by their dignity, their true and seemly dignity. I've seen it

myself, I can testify to it, I've seen it and marvelled at it, I've

seen it in spite of the degraded sins and poverty-stricken

appearance of our peasantry. They are not servile, and even after

two centuries of serfdom they are free in manner and bearing, yet

without insolence, and not revengeful and not envious. "You are rich

and noble, you are clever and talented, well, be so, God bless you.

I respect you, but I know that I too am a man. By the very fact that I

respect you without envy I prove my dignity as a man."

    In truth if they don't say this (for they don't know how to say

this yet), that is how they act. I have seen it myself, I have known

it myself, and, would you believe it, the poorer our Russian peasant

is, the more noticeable is that serene goodness, for the rich among

them are for the most part corrupted already, and much of that is

due to our carelessness and indifference. But God will save His

people, for Russia is great in her humility. I dream of seeing, and

seem to see clearly already, our future. It will come to pass that

even the most corrupt of our rich will end by being ashamed of his

riches before the poor, and the poor, seeing his humility, will

understand and give way before him, will respond joyfully and kindly

to his honourable shame. Believe me that it will end in that; things

are moving to that. Equality is to be found only in the spiritual

dignity of man, and that will only be understood among us. If we

were brothers, there would be fraternity, but before that they will

never agree about the division of wealth. We preserve the image of

Christ, and it will shine forth like a precious diamond to the whole

world. So may it be, so may it be!

    Fathers and teachers, a touching incident befell me once. In my

wanderings I met in the town of K. my old orderly, Afanasy. It was

eight years since I had parted from him. He chanced to see me in the

market-place, recognised me, ran up to me, and how delighted he was!

He simply pounced on me: "Master dear, is it you? Is it really you I

see?" He took me home with him.

    He was no longer in the army, he was married and already had two

little children. He and his wife earned their living as

costermongers in the market-place. His room was poor, but bright and

clean. He made me sit down, set the samovar, sent for his wife, as

though my appearance were a festival for them. He brought me his

children: "Bless them, Father."

    "Is it for me to bless them? I am only a humble monk. I will

pray for them. And for you, Afanasy Pavlovitch, I have prayed every

day since that day, for it all came from you," said I. And I explained

that to him as well as I could. And what do you think? The man kept

gazing at me and could not believe that I, his former master, an

officer, was now before him in such a guise and position; it made

him shed tears.

    "Why are you weeping?" said I, "better rejoice over me, dear

friend, whom I can never forget, for my path is a glad and joyful

one."

    He did not say much, but kept sighing and shaking his head over me

tenderly.

    "What has become of your fortune?" he asked.

    "I gave it to the monastery," I answered; "we live in common."

    After tea I began saying good-bye, and suddenly he brought out

half a rouble as an offering to the monastery, and another half-rouble

I saw him thrusting hurriedly into my hand: "That's for you in your

wanderings, it may be of use to you, Father."

    I took his half-rouble, bowed to him and his wife, and went out

rejoicing. And on my way I thought: "Here we are both now, he at

home and I on the road, sighing and shaking our heads, no doubt, and

yet smiling joyfully in the gladness of our hearts, remembering how

God brought about our meeting."

    I have never seen him again since then. I had been his master

and he my servant, but now when we exchanged a loving kiss with

softened hearts, there was a great human bond between us. I have

thought a great deal about that, and now what I think is this: Is it

so inconceivable that that grand and simple-hearted unity might in due

time become universal among the Russian people? I believe that it will

come to pass and that the time is at hand.

    And of servants I will add this: In old days when I was young I

was often angry with servants; "the cook had served something too hot,

the orderly had not brushed my clothes." But what taught me better

then was a thought of my dear brother's, which I had heard from him in

childhood: "Am I worth it, that another should serve me and be ordered

about by me in his poverty and ignorance?" And I wondered at the

time that such simple and self-evident ideas should be so slow to

occur to our minds.

    It is impossible that there should be no servants in the world,

but act so that your servant may be freer in spirit than if he were

not a servant. And why cannot I be a servant to my servant and even

let him see it, and that without any pride on my part or any

mistrust on his? Why should not my servant be like my own kindred,

so that I may take him into my family and rejoice in doing so? Even

now this can be done, but it will lead to the grand unity of men in

the future, when a man will not seek servants for himself, or desire

to turn his fellow creatures into servants as he does now, but on

the contrary, will long with his whole heart to be the servant of all,

as the Gospel teaches.

    And can it be a dream, that in the end man will find his joy

only in deeds of light and mercy, and not in cruel pleasures as now,

in gluttony, fornication, ostentation, boasting and envious rivalry of

one with the other? I firmly believe that it is not and that the

time is at hand. People laugh and ask: "When will that time come and

does it look like coming?" I believe that with Christ's help we

shall accomplish this great thing. And how many ideas there have

been on earth in the history of man which were unthinkable ten years

before they appeared! Yet when their destined hour had come, they came

forth and spread over the whole earth. So it will be with us, and

our people will shine forth in the world, and all men will say: "The

stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone of the

building."

    And we may ask the scornful themselves: If our hope is a dream,

when will you build up your edifice and order things justly by your

intellect alone, without Christ? If they declare that it is they who

are advancing towards unity, only the most simple-hearted among them

believe it, so that one may positively marvel at such simplicity. Of a

truth, they have more fantastic dreams than we. They aim at justice,

but, denying Christ, they will end by flooding the earth with blood,

for blood cries out for blood, and he that taketh up the sword shall

perish by the sword. And if it were not for Christ's covenant, they

would slaughter one another down to the last two men on earth. And

those two last men would not be able to restrain each other in their

pride, and the one would slay the other and then himself. And that

would come to pass, were it not for the promise of Christ that for the

sake of the humble and meek the days shall be shortened.

    While I was still wearing an officer's uniform after my duel, I

talked about servants in general society, and I remember everyone

was amazed at me. "What!" they asked, "are we to make our servants sit

down on the sofa and offer them tea?" And I answered them: "Why not,

sometimes at least?" Everyone laughed. Their question was frivolous

and my answer was not clear; but the thought in it was to some

extent right.



       (g) Of Prayer, of Love, and of Contact with other Worlds.



    Young man, be not forgetful of prayer. Every time you pray, if

your prayer is sincere, there will be new feeling and new meaning in

it, which will give you fresh courage, and you will understand that

prayer is an education. Remember, too, every day, and whenever you

can, repeat to yourself, "Lord, have mercy on all who appear before

Thee to-day." For every hour and every moment thousands of men leave

life on this earth, and their souls appear before God. And how many of

them depart in solitude, unknown, sad, dejected that no one mourns for

them or even knows whether they have lived or not! And behold, from

the other end of the earth perhaps, your prayer for their rest will

rise up to God though you knew them not nor they you. How touching

it must be to a soul standing in dread before the Lord to feel at that

instant that, for him too, there is one to pray, that there is a

fellow creature left on earth to love him too! And God will look on

you both more graciously, for if you have had so much pity on him, how

much will He have pity Who is infinitely more loving and merciful than

you! And He will forgive him for your sake.

    Brothers, have no fear of men's sin. Love a man even in his sin,

for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on

earth. Love all God's creation, the whole and every grain of sand in

it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals,

love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will

perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you

will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at

last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love. Love the

animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy

untroubled. Do not trouble it, don't harass them, don't deprive them

of their happiness, don't work against God's intent. Man, do not pride

yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you,

with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and

leave the traces of your foulness after you- alas, it is true of

almost every one of us! Love children especially, for they too are

sinless like the angels; they live to soften and purify our hearts

and, as it were, to guide us. Woe to him who offends a child! Father

Anfim taught me to love children. The kind, silent man used often on

our wanderings to spend the farthings given us on sweets and cakes for

the children. He could not pass by a child without emotion. That's the

nature of the man.

    At some thoughts one stands perplexed, especially at the sight

of men's sin, and wonders whether one should use force or humble love.

Always decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that once for all,

you may subdue the whole world. Loving humility is marvellously

strong, the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like

it.

    Every day and every hour, every minute, walk round yourself and

watch yourself, and see that your image is a seemly one. You pass by a

little child, you pass by, spiteful, with ugly words, with wrathful

heart; you may not have noticed the child, but he has seen you, and

your image, unseemly and ignoble, may remain in his defenceless heart.

You don't know it, but you may have sown an evil seed in him and it

may grow, and all because you were not careful before the child,

because you did not foster in yourself a careful, actively

benevolent love. Brothers, love is a teacher; but one must know how to

acquire it, for it is hard to acquire, it is dearly bought, it is

won slowly by long labour. For we must love not only occasionally, for

a moment, but for ever. Everyone can love occasionally, even the

wicked can.

    My brother asked the birds to forgive him; that sounds

senseless, but it is right; for all is like an ocean, all is flowing

and blending; a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end

of the earth. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but

birds would be happier at your side- a little happier, anyway- and

children and all animals, if you were nobler than you are now. It's

all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds too,

consumed by an all-embracing love, in a sort of transport, and pray

that they too will forgive you your sin. Treasure this ecstasy,

however senseless it may seem to men.

    My friends, pray to God for gladness. Be glad as children, as

the birds of heaven. And let not the sin of men confound you in your

doings. Fear not that it will wear away your work and hinder its being

accomplished. Do not say, "Sin is mighty, wickedness is mighty, evil

environment is mighty, and we are lonely and helpless, and evil

environment is wearing us away and hindering our good work from

being done." Fly from that dejection, children! There is only one

means of salvation, then take yourself and make yourself responsible

for all men's sins, that is the truth, you know, friends, for as

soon as you sincerely make yourself responsible for everything and for

all men, you will see at once that it is really so, and that you are

to blame for everyone and for all things. But throwing your own

indolence and impotence on others you will end by sharing the pride of

Satan and murmuring against God.

    Of the pride of Satan what I think is this: it is hard for us on

earth to comprehend it, and therefore it is so easy to fall into error

and to share it, even imagining that we are doing something grand

and fine. Indeed, many of the strongest feelings and movements of

our nature we cannot comprehend on earth. Let not that be a

stumbling-block, and think not that it may serve as a justification to

you for anything. For the Eternal judge asks of you what you can

comprehend and not what you cannot. You will know that yourself

hereafter, for you will behold all things truly then and will not

dispute them. On earth, indeed, we are, as it were, astray, and if

it were not for the precious image of Christ before us, we should be

undone and altogether lost, as was the human race before the flood.

Much on earth is hidden from us, but to make up for that we have

been given a precious mystic sense of our living bond with the other

world, with the higher heavenly world, and the roots of our thoughts

and feelings are not here but in other worlds. That is why the

philosophers say that we cannot apprehend the reality of things on

earth.

    God took seeds from different worlds and sowed them on this earth,

and His garden grew up and everything came up that could come up,

but what grows lives and is alive only through the feeling of its

contact with other mysterious worlds. If that feeling grows weak or is

destroyed in you, the heavenly growth will die away in you. Then you

will be indifferent to life and even grow to hate it. That's what I

think.



      (h) Can a Man judge his Fellow Creatures?  Faith to the End.



    Remember particularly that you cannot be a judge of anyone. For no

one can judge a criminal until he recognises that he is just such a

criminal as the man standing before him, and that he perhaps is more

than all men to blame for that crime. When he understands that, he

will be able to be a judge. Though that sounds absurd, it is true.

If I had been righteous myself, perhaps there would have been no

criminal standing before me. If you can take upon yourself the crime

of the criminal your heart is judging, take it at once, suffer for him

yourself, and let him go without reproach. And even if the law

itself makes you his judge, act in the same spirit so far as possible,

for he will go away and condemn himself more bitterly than you have

done. If, after your kiss, he goes away untouched, mocking at you,

do not let that be a stumbling-block to you. It shows his time has not

yet come, but it will come in due course. And if it come not, no

Matter; if not he, then another in his place will understand and

suffer, and judge and condemn himself, and the truth will be

fulfilled. Believe that, believe it without doubt; for in that lies

all the hope and faith of the saints.

    Work without ceasing. If you remember in the night as you go to

sleep, "I have not done what I ought to have done," rise up at once

and do it. If the people around you are spiteful and callous and

will not hear you, fall down before them and beg their forgiveness;

for in truth you are to blame for their not wanting to hear you. And

if you cannot speak to them in their bitterness, serve them in silence

and in humility, never losing hope. If all men abandon you and even

drive you away by force, then when you are left alone fall on the

earth and kiss it, water it with your tears and it will bring forth

fruit even though no one has seen or heard you in your solitude.

Believe to the end, even if all men went astray and you were left

the only one faithful; bring your offering even then and praise God in

your loneliness. And if two of you are gathered together- then there

is a whole world, a world of living love. Embrace each other

tenderly and praise God, for if only in you two His truth has been

fulfilled.

    If you sin yourself and grieve even unto death for your sins or

for your sudden sin, then rejoice for others, rejoice for the

righteous man, rejoice that if you have sinned, he is righteous and

has not sinned.

    If the evil-doing of men moves you to indignation and overwhelming

distress, even to a desire for vengeance on the evil-doers, shun above

all things that feeling. Go at once and seek suffering for yourself,

as though you were yourself guilty of that wrong. Accept that

suffering and bear it and your heart will find comfort, and you will

understand that you too are guilty, for you might have been a light to

the evil-doers, even as the one man sinless, and you were not a

light to them. If you had been a light, you would have lightened the

path for others too, and the evil-doer might perhaps have been saved

by your light from his sin. And even though your light was shining,

yet you see men were not saved by it, hold firm and doubt not the

power of the heavenly light. Believe that if they were not saved, they

will be saved hereafter. And if they are not saved hereafter, then

their sons will be saved, for your light will not die even when you

are dead. The righteous man departs, but his light remains. Men are

always saved after the death of the deliverer. Men reject their

prophets and slay them, but they love their martyrs and honour those

whom they have slain. You are working for the whole, are acting for

the future. Seek no reward, for great is your reward on this earth:

the spiritual joy which is only vouchsafed to the righteous man.

Fear not the great nor the mighty, but be wise and ever serene. Know

the measure, know the times, study that. When you are left alone,

pray. Love to throw yourself on the earth and kiss it. Kiss the

earth and love it with an unceasing, consuming love. Love all men,

love everything. Seek that rapture and ecstasy. Water the earth with

the tears of your joy and love those tears. Don't be ashamed of that

ecstasy, prize it, for it is a gift of God and a great one; it is

not given to many but only to the elect.



           (i) Of Hell and Hell Fire, a Mystic Reflection.



    Fathers and teachers, I ponder, "What is hell?" I maintain that it

is the suffering of being unable to love. Once in infinite

existence, immeasurable in time and space, a spiritual creature was

given on his coming to earth the power of saying, "I am and I love."

Once, only once, there was given him a moment of active lifting

love, and for that was earthly life given him, and with it times and

seasons. And that happy creature rejected the priceless gift, prized

it and loved it not, scorned it and remained callous. Such a one,

having left the earth, sees Abraham's bosom and talks with Abraham

as we are told in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and beholds

heaven and can go up to the Lord. But that is just his torment, to

rise up to the Lord without ever having loved, to be brought close

to those who have loved when he has despised their love. For he sees

clearly and says to himself, "Now I have understanding, and though I

now thirst to love, there will be nothing great, no sacrifice in my

love, for my earthly life is over, and Abraham will not come even with

a drop of living water (that is the gift of earthly active life) to

cool the fiery thirst of spiritual love which burns in me now,

though I despised it on earth; there is no more life for me and will

be no more time! Even though I would gladly give my life for others,

it can never be, for that life is passed which can be sacrificed for

love, and now there is a gulf fixed between that life and this

existence."

    They talk of hell fire in the material sense. I don't go into that

mystery and I shun it. But I think if there were fire in material

sense, they would be glad of it, for I imagine that in material agony,

their still greater spiritual agony would be forgotten for a moment.

Moreover, that spiritual agony cannot be taken from them, for that

suffering is not external but within them. And if it could be taken

from them, I think it would be bitterer still for the unhappy

creatures. For even if the righteous in Paradise forgave them,

beholding their torments, and called them up to heaven in their

infinite love, they would only multiply their torments, for they would

arouse in them still more keenly a flaming thirst for responsive,

active and grateful love which is now impossible. In the timidity of

my heart I imagine, however, that the very recognition of this

impossibility would serve at last to console them. For accepting the

love of the righteous together with the impossibility of repaying

it, by this submissiveness and the effect of this humility, they

will attain at last, as it were, to a certain semblance of that active

love which they scorned in life, to something like its outward

expression... I am sorry, friends and brothers, that I cannot

express this clearly. But woe to those who have slain themselves on

earth, woe to the suicides! I believe that there can be none more

miserable than they. They tell us that it is a sin to pray for them

and outwardly the Church, as it were, renounces them, but in my secret

heart I believe that we may pray even for them. Love can never be an

offence to Christ. For such as those I have prayed inwardly all my

life, I confess it, fathers and teachers, and even now I pray for them

every day.

    Oh, there are some who remain proud and fierce even in hell, in

spite of their certain knowledge and contemplation of the absolute

truth; there are some fearful ones who have given themselves over to

Satan and his proud spirit entirely. For such, hell is voluntary and

ever consuming; they are tortured by their own choice. For they have

cursed themselves, cursing God and life. They live upon their

vindictive pride like a starving man in the desert sucking blood out

of his own body. But they are never satisfied, and they refuse

forgiveness, they curse God Who calls them. They cannot behold the

living God without hatred, and they cry out that the God of life

should be annihilated, that God should destroy Himself and His own

creation. And they will burn in the fire of their own wrath for ever

and yearn for death and annihilation. But they will not attain to

death....

    Here Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov's manuscript ends. I repeat, it

is incomplete and fragmentary. Biographical details, for instance,

cover only Father Zossima's earliest youth. Of his teaching and

opinions we find brought together sayings evidently uttered on very

different occasions. His utterances during the last few hours have not

been kept separate from the rest, but their general character can be

gathered from what we have in Alexey Fyodorovitch's manuscript.

    The elder's death came in the end quite unexpectedly. For although

those who were gathered about him that last evening realised that

his death was approaching, yet it was difficult to imagine that it

would come so suddenly. On the contrary, his friends, as I observed

already, seeing him that night apparently so cheerful and talkative,

were convinced that there was at least a temporary change for the

better in his condition. Even five minutes before his death, they said

afterwards wonderingly, it was impossible to foresee it. He seemed

suddenly to feel an acute pain in his chest, he turned pale and

pressed his hands to his heart. All rose from their seats and hastened

to him. But though suffering, he still looked at them with a smile,

sank slowly from his chair on to his knees, then bowed his face to the

ground, stretched out his arms and as though in joyful ecstasy,

praying and kissing the ground, quietly and joyfully gave up his

soul to God.

    The news of his death spread at once through the hermitage and

reached the monastery. The nearest friends of the deceased and those

whose duty it was from their position began to lay out the corpse

according to the ancient ritual, and all the monks gathered together

in the church. And before dawn the news of the death reached the town.

By the morning all the town was talking of the event, and crowds

were flocking from the town to the monastery. But this subject will be

treated in the next book; I will only add here that before a day had

passed something happened so unexpected, so strange, upsetting, and

bewildering in its effect on the monks and the townspeople, that after

all these years, that day of general suspense is still vividly

remembered in the town.