The Cathedral Clergy: A Chronicle

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Upon entering his house, where for quite some time the master and sole occupant had been Deacon Achilles, the archpriest kissed the impetuous giant on the part in his curly, ungreased hair and, walking through all the little rooms with him, made the sign of the cross over Natalya Nikolaevna ’s empty, ownerless bed and said: “Well, my friend, it makes no sense for us to part from each other now—let’s live together!” “With great pleasure. I’m ready and happy to do that—I was even going to suggest it myself,” Achilles replied and threw both arms around the archpriest again. And so the two of them began to live together: Achilles performed his duties in church and took care of the household, while Tuberozov stayed home, read John Bunyan,5 reflected, and prayed. He rarely left the house, or, rather, he did not leave the house at all, and when guests asked why he never went out, he would answer briefly: “Yes, well … I’m … preparing to.” He was indeed preparing and lived the intense, focused life of a man examining his own heart. Achilles relieved him of all cares and concerns, which gave the venerable old man a fine opportunity to prepare. But that blissful state of affairs was not destined to last long either. An honor awaited Achilles: the bishop, whose turn had come to attend the sessions of the Holy Synod, was taking the deacon with him to St. Petersburg because the archdeacon at the cathedral in the provincial capital had fallen ill. The deacon bade Tuberozov farewell in a touching scene, and Achilles , who had never written a letter in his life and did not know how to write or send one, not only offered to write to Father Tuberozov but also kept his promise. His letters were original and peculiar, no less so than his whole manner of thought and way of life. First he sent Tuberozov a letter from the 5 John Bunyan (1628–88)—English minister and author imprisoned for twelve years for holding religious services that did not conform to those of the Church of England. His most famous book, The Pilgrim’s Progress (1678), appeared in Russian translation in Sochineniia Ioanna Biuniana (The Works of John Bunyan) in 1819. CHAPTER 4 305 provincial capital, and in that letter, which he had put into an envelope addressed “To Father Archpriest Tuberozov, Confidential and To Be Delivered into His Own Hands,” he informed him that while staying at the monastery, he had helped Savely get even with Troady, the censor, by tying a sausage to his cat’s back with the inscription “I’m bringing Troady this delicacy” and turning it loose to run around the monastery with its load. A month later Achilles wrote from Moscow, saying how much he liked it, but that the people there were very crafty, especially the other choir members, who had invited him to drink lampopó with them twice, but, “knowing from experience what this lampopó is all about, I was just astonished at their nerve.” A little later he finally wrote from St. Petersburg: “Your Reverence Father Savely, my dearest friend. Be joyful. I’m staying at a wonderful guest house located at one of the monastery’s churches here, which would be like a little monastery itself except that there’s an awful lot of temptation because it’s right in the middle of a busy city. But in spite of all this hustle and bustle I still miss you, since it would be a lot more fun for the two of us to marvel at everything together if you were here. I’m keeping your good advice in mind and always conduct myself respectfully with everyone, a sign of which was that Moscow lampopó that I refused to drink. I drink as little as possible, and when I do, it’s mainly because I’m afraid that by not drinking at all I might lose some good friends. There are lots of good things here, but there aren’t any real deacons, not like the kind we insist on back home; here they all have tenor voices that we would consider fit only for cemeteries , and even though some of them show off a lot, their voices, compared to ours, are all weak and they always conduct services in speaking voices, quite often not even on pitch, which makes it impossible for the choir to come in...