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St Philaret of Moscow, anonymous tr., 1873

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Basil Drosdow, later known by the name of Philaret, was born on the 26th of December, 1782, in Kolomna, one of the district towns of the government of Moscow, where his father lived as parish priest. The family Drosdow was poor, poor even among their own class, who are generally so needy in Russia. This clerical class has, through a series of administrative measures and other circumstances, acquired the character of a caste, yet without being one in reality, or rather in principle. The ecclesiastical career, although actually open to all, has become through custom the almost exclusive lot of the children of the clergy. Exceptions to this rule seem to exist but to bear testimony to that fundamental principle of the Church, which has been almost entirely obliterated by custom. At seventeen years of age Drosdow was placed by his father at the Seminary of Troïtza, founded and supported by the celebrated monastery of that name,² where he occupied from the beginning among his fellow-students a prominent place. Platon, at that time Metropolitan of Moscow, took the youth into notice, and placed him henceforth under his special protection.

In 1803 Drosdow was appointed Professor of the Greek and Hebrew languages, and of Rhetoric, in the same Seminary in which he had but recently completed his studies. To be able to justify the election of the former professors, the student of yesterday turned with redoubled energy to his books, and in a few years he became a profound scholar in all those sciences which are so necessary to an ecclesiastical career.

In 1806, at twenty-four years of age, he preached his first sermon. The Metropolitan Platon, himself the most eloquent preacher of his time, was so satisfied with the oratorical talent and solid knowledge displayed by the young man, that he conferred upon him the honorary title of Preacher to the Monastery of Troïtza, an honour which the young layman shared together with the Archimandrite of that illustrious house.

In the year 1808, Drosdow bade farewell to the world, and took the triple vow of monastic life—the vow of chastity, poverty, and obedience—in the presence of his Metropolitan, who did not hesitate to transgress in his behalf the canonical law, which forbids the taking of the final vow of monastic life before the age of thirty. Henceforth Basil Drosdow bore the name of Philaret.

In 1809 there came an order from the Holy Synod for the monk Philaret to be sent to the monastery of S. Alexander Nevsky in S. Petersburg. To exchange the place where he had passed his youth, where he was appreciated and had distinguished himself, for a town entirely unknown to him, a life among strangers, who might perhaps be ill-disposed towards the new comer, and in whose breasts his rising reputation might excite envy; all this offered a prospect in no wise cheering to the young scholar, utterly ignorant of the ways of the world.

The Metropolitan Platon, grieved to see himself deprived of his favourite pupil, who promised to reward so amply his paternal care, wrote to the Synod thus:—“Philaret has manifested his unwillingness to go to Petersburg in the tears he has shed.” And again, further;—“Above all, I beseech the Holy Synod concerning the monk Philaret, that he may be sent back to the monastery of Troïtza . . . . Having watched over his education with the anxiety of a father, I should consider his return a great comfort to my old age.”

Notwithstanding the request of the influential prelate, Philaret was obliged to go to S. Petersburg, and it was not until many years after the death of his illustrious patron that he returned to his beloved monastery as Archbishop of Moscow.

Here commences the second epoch, so to speak, of the life of Philaret, whom we see at twenty-seven years of age entering upon that active and glorious career of public duty, which was to end but with his life.

It was now the early part of the reign of Alexander I., a time which abounded in beneficent reforms, proceeding from

the noble and saintly aspirations of the heart of the Sovereign, and in which reforms he was supported by the counsels of his youthful friends.

In 1812 we see Philaret Rector of the Ecclesiastical Academy of S. Petersburg, one of the most influential members of the Committee for the reform of the religious schools, already a renowned preacher, a profound divine, the friend and counsellor of the Procurator of the Holy Synod, Prince Alexander Galitzine.³

But this notice would become a voluminous biography if we were to detail here the activity of this monk, who, having renounced every personal pursuit in life, devoted himself with the whole might of an ardent spirit, of a superior intellect, and of an indomitable will grounded on strong religious convictions, to the service of God and his country.

Throwing but a rapid glance on this part of his life, it will be sufficient to say that during the interval between 1812 and 1821 he took a most active part in all measures concerning the welfare of the Church of Russia. Particularly interested in the reform of the clergy, he was commissioned to inspect the religious Academy of Moscow, and the Seminaries of seven great towns. As a member of the Bible Society he was its very soul, and undertook the translation of the Gospel of S. John from the Greek into the Russian, and corrected the translation of all the other Books of the New Testament.⁴ About this time he wrote his Commentaries on the Book of Genesis, and a History of the Bible, which even to this day is exclusively used in all religious and secular schools. He wrote also some very remarkable Tracts on the separation of the Roman from the Universal Church, on the dissenters from the Russian Church, who style themselves “Starovery,” or “Believers in the old faith,” and a Catechism, which serves as the medium of religious instruction to the whole Russian youth. This book has been translated into English by Blackmore,⁵ and it is said to be used as a catechism in many American schools.

To this time belong also some of his best sermons, in which he comments on the Scriptures after the manner of the Greek fathers, whose writings he had studied in the original, imitating even their style. We are often struck, in reading his sermons, by the length of the periods and the peculiarities of the phraseology, which are owing to the influence on the mind of the learned Bishop of the writings of the Greek Fathers. His sermons are rather meditations, addressing the mind, explaining the mystical sense of the symbols, of the prophecies, of the prayers and of the rites of the Church. He seems to have set himself the peculiar task of revealing the true meaning of the Scriptures and of the rites of the Church, that stronghold of Christ, where Divine revelation, inspiration, and human experience sanctified by faith, have from the beginning of the world accumulated treasures of spiritual wisdom.

In 1817 Philaret was raised to the dignity of Bishop, and occupied successively the Sees of Reval, Twer and Jaroslaw, till at last, in 1821, he became Archbishop of Moscow. Henceforth his attention, divided between the affairs of the Holy Synod and the duties of his important diocese, became inadequate to this double task. He then solicited and obtained, in 1823, the permission to leave S. Petersburg, and to remain for two years in Moscow.

About this time Alexander I., having lost the hope of seeing the birth of a direct heir to his crown, and the Grand Duke Constantine, his next brother, having married a private lady, whom he was permitted to espouse but under the condition of renouncing his right to the crown, the Emperor saw himself obliged to form some decision concerning the succession to the throne. The Grand Duke Constantine wrote a letter, by which he renounced his rights in favour of his brother, the Grand Duke Nicholas; and Alexander, having consulted his mother, the Empress Marie Feodorowna, widow of Paul I., resolved to state his will in a testament. Desirous of keeping this decision secret, the Czar spoke of it but with two persons, Count Arakcheew and Prince A. Galitzine, commissioning the latter to communicate it to the Archbishop of Moscow, commanding him to draw up this Decree, and to keep it strictly secret. Having obeyed the will of his sovereign, the prelate expressed his doubts concerning the advisability of the deep mystery in which so important an act was to be shrouded. He counselled that at least sealed copies of the original should be deposited in the Senate of S. Petersburg and in that of Moscow, in the Holy Synod, and in the Council of the Empire.

The Emperor, approving of the redaction of the Decree by the Archbishop, accepted his advice, and commanded copies to be deposited in the above-named places, while he wrote

with his own hand on the original,—“To be kept in the Cathedral of the Assumption in Moscow,⁶ until I claim it. In case of my death, the Archbishop and the Governor-General of Moscow are commanded to open this before they proceed further.” The letter of the Grand Duke Constantine was also laid there, and the whole was sealed with the Imperial Seal.

Thus, as the bearer of his sovereign’s testament, did the Archbishop arrive at Moscow, where he deposited the important charge in the place designated.

In November, 1825, Alexander I. died on the frontier of his Empire, at Taganrog . . . . It would be out of place to enumerate here the events which darkened the first days of the reign of Nicholas I.; but the anxieties of Philaret concerning the mystery in which the will of the late sovereign was shrouded, proved but too well founded. The Archbishop of Moscow, sole depositor of the imperial secret, acted on this difficult occasion with the utmost wisdom and prudence: it is owing to him that the ancient capital was saved from the troubles which threatened to convulse the Empire.

We are come now to the end of the second part of the life of the illustrious prelate.

From 1809 till 1825, Philaret had grown more and more known, and had at last attained the highest dignity in the Church of Russia. His personal importance is best proved by the part assigned to him in so important a transaction as that which we have just related.

In 1826 he became Metropolitan of Moscow, and resided alternately in his diocese and in S. Petersburg, where the affairs of the Holy Synod required his presence.

His extensive knowledge of the History of the Church and of her present condition, the justness and clearness of his judgment, his abilities and laboriousness, his logic, his eloquence, made him the most active and influential member of the sacred college; while his deep theological studies gave to his opinion in religious matters particular authority. It was but natural that such a position should excite the hate and calumnies of envious men; and moreover, his powerful influence in the Holy Synod had often roused the anger of fanatics and narrow-minded zealots. These and other circumstances, rendered at length the illustrious prelate an object of distrust to those with whom he considered it useless to contest. He asked and easily obtained leave to quit S. Petersburg, and henceforth, that is, from 1841, he took up his residence in Moscow, and remained there till his death.

Suddenly deprived of a vast sphere of action, the Prelate found himself in the full vigour of manhood confined to the limited circle of his diocese. Having during many years governed the Church and felt himself the instrument of God in the work of her advancement, he saw himself thrown aside and powerless to serve her. . . . Having renounced earth with all its joys, to consecrate his life entirely to the higher interests of faith and religion, he became devoted to them with that almost passionate love, which a human heart will feel for self-renunciation itself. He loved his Church and his country with an almost earthly love, proud and jealous in their service; and we may understand how awful was the struggle of his spirit, at the moment of renouncing this long-cherished ambition. We

find some faint traces of this inward strife in one or two sermons which he then preached, where amidst the austere teachings of the minister of God, we catch the half-stifled cry of anguish from a human heart, suddenly bereft of all that made life lovely to it. Albeit, his grief manifested itself in no other way, and the tumult of his soul was overcome in the silence of his cell under the eye of God alone. . . .

Some years later, we see on the episcopal throne of Moscow, a saintly old man surrounded by the reverence of the whole nation. His intellect shines as brightly as ever, his word is as powerful, and the whole Church hearkens to it with veneration. The authority of his writings is almost equal to that of the Fathers; his enlightened experience rules the Church of Russia. Thus for instance the relations between the Russian Church and the Patriarchs of the East, are tacitly entrusted to him. Let us quote here some lines of the Patriarch of Constantinople to General Ignatieff, our Ambassador in Turkey, which show how worthily the Metropolitan acquitted himself of that task. In a despatch of the 5th (17th) of April, 1866, the Patriarch says concerning the answer of the Holy Synod, relative to a dispute which had arisen between himself and Prince Couza: “The answer of the Holy Synod has deeply moved me and I must avow, that the Church of Russia is better acquainted with our history than ourselves; the arguments contained in the Note of the Holy Synod are much stronger and much more decisive than those advanced by the Great Church, concerning our bounden duty to keep unaltered the unity of the Eastern Church. This remarkable document opens a new era in the annals of the Church of the East, and throws a vivid light on the points of dispute between the Patriarchate

of Constantinople and the ex-Hospodar, whose sophistries are thereby victoriously overthrown.”⁷

The illustrious Prelate had the joy, in 1863, to see the interrupted work of his youth, the translation of the Bible into Russian, which had been prohibited by the Government in 1817, again undertaken. The New Testament partly translated, partly corrected almost fifty years ago by the aged Bishop, was printed in many thousands of copies, and the translation of the Old Testament was zealously undertaken by the Academy of Troïtza, under his superintendence.

During the twenty-five years which he passed constantly in Moscow, the Metropolitan formed and ordained a whole phalanx of Bishops, who now occupy the greater part of the Sees of Russia. He wrote many sermons and books, which enrich our religious literature, and in their totality contain the whole doctrine of the Orthodox Church. He lent also his eloquent pen to the religiously patriotic feelings of his countrymen, writing the inspired prayers pronounced on the 25th of December, in commemoration of the deliverance of Russia, in 1812; those offered to God in the anniversaries, of the seven hundred years of the existence of Moscow, of the thousand years’ existence of Russia, and on many other occasions too numerous to mention. These prayers, full of majestic symbols, clothed in the simple and sublime language of the Bible, breathing the spirit of the primitive Church, are so like the prayers bequeathed to us by the Prophet-King and the Fathers, that it is difficult to distinguish them.

It was also Philaret, who by his charity and wisdom, restored to the Church the numerous sect of the “Starovery.” Enlightening their errors, condescending to their innocent prejudices, he acquired among them by the austere saintliness of his life the same authority which he enjoyed among his own people.

The English and American travellers, who, during these last twenty years have visited Moscow, in order better to acquaint themselves with Orthodoxy, will remember the kindliness with which the venerable Prelate welcomed them to his house, whenever they wished to visit him. He conversed with them for hours, answering gladly their questions by means of an interpreter, for although he understood many modern languages he did not speak them.

The esteem enjoyed by the Metropolitan, not in virtue of his Episcopal dignity, but because of a life entirely devoted to the service of God,—the respect for his personal merits, for his rare intellect increased tenfold by study and meditation, were shown on the occasion of his jubilee.

On the 5th of August, 1817, the Archimandrite, Philaret, thirty-four years of age, was ordained Bishop; on the 5th of August, 1867, the Church, the Sovereign and the Nation, joined unanimously to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of his blessed Episcopate.

On this day the Metropolitan, leaving his favourite summer place of retirement,—an humble cottage amidst the woods surrounding Troïtza,—came to his palace in the monastery. There he received first of all Count Tolstoï, the Procurator-General of the Holy Synod, who presented him in the

name of the Emperor with the insignia of the old Patriarchs of Russia.⁸ The Tsar sent him also, as a token of his personal friendship, his portrait along with those of Nicholas I. and Alexander I., richly set in diamonds, the three Sovereigns, whose reigns the Prelate had adorned.

Then came the deputies from the Patriarchs of the East, from the Holy Synod, from the Metropolitan of Servia, from the monasteries of Mount Athos and from all the Russian Sees. He received also deputations from all the learned Societies of which he was a member, as well as from the nobility and from the city of Moscow.

Twelve Metropolitans, Archbishops and Bishops, were present at the solemnity, as well as many Archimandrites of celebrated monasteries, and the most distinguished priests of the so called white clergy.⁹

Learned men, celebrated writers, dignitaries of the state, noblemen of the most illustrious families, filled the palace, whilst a numerous crowd thronged the vast space contained within the walls of the monastery.

The venerable Prelate listened standing to all the addresses, while the assembly marked admiringly that his answers were as free from repetition, as they were varied and fitting to the Society or person to whom they were given. This solemnity in which Church and Nation united to pay their tribute of veneration to the illustrious Metropolitan, was to be the crowning event of his life.

A month later, on the 17th of September, he saw in a dream his father, warning him to observe particularly the date of the nineteenth. On awakening he resolved to take the Holy Communion on the nineteenth of every month. Keeping this vow, he celebrated the Liturgy on the 19th of November, in his chapel in Moscow, partook of the Holy Sacrament in the fulness of bodily and spiritual strength, and returned to his apartment at eleven o’clock. At two in the afternoon, his servant entering to announce that dinner was served, found him dead in his chamber.

He fell asleep as expires a torch, which shining on brightly to the last, forebodes its approaching end but by projecting rays of more intense and vivid light. His peaceful death was truly the worthy reward of a laborious and saintly life.

Let me be allowed here to add something of my personal remembrance of this great man. I became acquainted with him fourteen years before his decease, and however my life may yet be prolonged, his image will never fade from my memory.

Being admitted to visit him, while listening for hours together to his conversations and wondering at his splendid intellect—as complete in its gifts, as varied as they were exquisitely cultivated,—I compared him in my thoughts to the diamond, whose many coloured sparklings flash forth in luminous rays from each of its faces, and whose firm and

dense aggregate can be neither modified nor cut by any other substance than its own. He was one of those natures, who bear in themselves the germ of the most diverse elements and which can be controlled or ruled but by their own strong will. Endowed with superior abilities, which raise them above their fellow-men; desirous of great works as of their native element; understanding men and knowing how to rule them; these natures are more than others open to ambition and pride. Happy are they, when divine Truth throws on their path a ray of its eternal light, dispelling the illusions of earthly desires and showing the vanity of pride.

While looking on this dignified old man, so calm, so subdued, I traced up mentally the long and laborious career of his past life, exploring with him the deep track which he had made, the path through which he had passed, sown with thorns, darkened by the bereavement of earthly affections,—and I blessed that beautiful sunset, in whose mellow and serene light was dying away the ardent heat of that long day, so full of toil and strife.

The Metropolitan, as I knew him, was of small stature and thin, but strikingly dignified in his manners by the thorough control which he exercised over himself. His features were delicate and regular; his eyes clear and piercing; his complexion was pale; his beard gray and scanty; his demeanour highly polite and even elegant. His voice was low and he spoke slowly; his language,—concise and refined to a degree, rarely equalled by the most elaborate writings,—was impressive, eloquent, and obedient to the lightest shades of his deeply meditated thoughts.

He was fond of speaking of past times, and it was truly delightful to listen to his narratives, which unfolded themselves

like the painting of some old master, whose inspired pencil has fixed and endowed with undying beauty, some passing aspect of nature or some still more transient emotion of the human soul. Thus did the memory of the Metropolitan preserve, graven as it were upon it, the events which had impressed him, and his clear and eloquent narrative sketched out rapidly before you a picture of matchless beauty.

His sagacious and acute mind was naturally inclined to causticity, which escaped him almost involuntarily, shooting forth like lightning, yet always couched in the most refined expressions. It was touching in his later years, to note the efforts he made to curb his brilliant wit, careful to blunt the sharpness of its edge, which might give charity a wound.

He never of himself broached a religious subject in conversation; but the readiness with which he profited by the least occasion offered him of speaking of spiritual matters, and the animation of his countenance, bore witness to the heartfelt interest he took therein. It was edifying to see that great man grown gray in the study of the Scriptures, bending his mighty and lucid intellect to the puerilities of a discussion with men who spoke, and often with self-confidence, of matters concerning which they had hardly seriously reflected. But no consideration could deter the saintly Bishop from diffusing the word of life, from sowing its quickening seed and thus accomplishing his duty of enlightening souls.

To a mind peculiarly inquisitive he joined a childlike faith, which drew him to the invisible world as towards his native element: the realm of faith was more real to him than this visible world, which he had learned to consider but as a fleeting, transient form. Nevertheless he was mindful of the teaching of the Apostle, commanding to be cautious

in matters of faith, and neither superstition nor fanaticism found any sympathy in him.

To give the finishing touch to this portrait, let me add, that this faithful servant of Orthodoxy, this profound divine, this illustrious Bishop, having borne aloft the banner of his own beloved Church, during half a century, evinced towards the close of his glorious career a sublime spirit of tolerance.

Six days before his death, I heard him develop his firm belief, that divine Mercy, having entrusted the plenitude of Grace to the One Church, had yet bestowed some part of it upon every Christian religion. He spoke lovingly and hopefully of the power of salvation contained in every Christian religion, for such simple souls as know not better. For, said he, in order to be saved, it is sufficient to believe in the Holy Trinity and in our Redemption through the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ.

His purified and blessed soul had already attained those luminous heights, where eternal light shines forth, where there is no longer any shade, and where Truth resplendent and unclouded, liberates us from the multitude of human opinions.

Moscow, January 21, 1872.

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