History of the Russian Church (1700–1917)

a) The 18th century marked the beginning of a new period in the history of the Russian Church, which—in accordance with the name of the Church’s highest governing body, the Most Holy Governing Synod—is referred to as the Synodal Period.

When founding the Most Holy Synod, Peter the Great (1689–1725) considered the introduction of the collegial principle and the abolition of the principle of sole authority in the highest ecclesiastical administration to be of decisive importance. Until then, it was precisely this latter principle that had formed the basis of the authority of the Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia. However, it would be incorrect to consider the date of the Holy Synod’s founding—January 25, 1721—as the beginning of the synodal period. In reality, the new period in the history of the Russian Church began with the death of the last patriarch, Adrian (1690–1700), on October 15, 1700, when Peter I transferred supreme ecclesiastical administration to his protégé, Metropolitan Stephen of Yavor, as locum tenens of the patriarchal throne. A transitional phase in the organization of church governance began, one that in essence already belonged entirely to the synodal era, which lasted until November 21, 1917—that is, until the restoration of the patriarchate in Russia.

Throughout the entire synodal period, Peter’s so-called “church reform” was constantly subjected to both tacit and open criticism from the church hierarchy, the clergy, scholars, publicists, and indeed Russian society as a whole. In essence, the state authority was the only body that not only relied on Peter’s reform as a legal basis but also viewed it as a phenomenon that was positive in every respect. For this reason, during the Synodal period, the government made no concessions to public criticism and, from time to time, attempted to suppress it through repression.

Critics of Peter I’s church reform (see Volume 2), with few exceptions, tended to attribute all the shortcomings in the life of the Russian Church—including the ineptitude of church administration evident in many important areas—directly and exclusively to the state-controlled church system introduced by Peter. Such a judgment is too sweeping to be historically justified. However valid this viewpoint may be on one specific issue or another, it completely overlooks the other side of the problem—those important factors that influenced the state’s own policy toward the Church and determined the development of state-church relations during the Synodal period. Peter I’s church reform was an integral part of his transformation of the entire state, which, once completed as a whole, could not help but influence both the state’s church policy and the Church itself. Over the course of two centuries of its history, Peter’s Russia underwent profound changes in its political, social, and cultural life, which inevitably affected the internal life of the Russian Church as well. Under the influence of Peter’s reforms and their consequences, the religious, social, and cultural conditions of the Russian people’s lives changed radically. As a result of these changes, the episcopate and the clergy, in their efforts to shepherd the people entrusted to them, faced numerous difficulties that the Church had never encountered in the Moscow Rus of the past. All of this made a complete reform of the customary practices and methods of pastoral work one of the foremost tasks. Addressing this challenge placed extraordinarily high demands on the hierarchy, the parish clergy, and their highest authority—the Holy Synod—both in organizational and spiritual terms.

Our account of the Church’s development during the Synodal period should demonstrate how heavy a burden all these new difficulties were for the Church, and that Peter’s reform of the highest body of church administration was an important—but by no means the only—factor influencing the life of the Church. The Church is part of the general life of the people. Consequently, it is first and foremost necessary to outline those main features of Russia’s internal history during the Synodal era that influenced the life of the Church, taking as a starting point the situation on the eve of Peter I’s reforms. Of course, it is entirely unacceptable to idealize church life at the end of the 17th century, as was often done, for example, by Russian Slavophiles and other critics of the Synodal period.

The era of the Russian Patriarchate (1589–1700) does not, strictly speaking, constitute a separate period in the history of the Russian Church: its distinction from the preceding era, when the Russian Church was governed by metropolitans, is purely formal in nature [1] . When the Russian Church became autocephalous and the position of metropolitan (who, since 1446, had no longer been appointed by the Patriarch of Constantinople but was elected by Russian bishops) was taken over by a patriarch, this by no means led to any expansion of the head of the Church’s authority. The entire structure of church administration—from the highest levels down to the lowest bodies—also remained unchanged. The only innovation was an increase in the number of departments attached to the patriarchal see, which, however, had almost no bearing on general church administration [2] and were primarily a consequence of generous land grants by the tsars in the 17th century, particularly during the patriarchate of Filaret (1619–1633). This led to a significant expansion of the former metropolitan province, which was now called the Patriarchal Province. It consisted of vast landholdings, constituting a substantial portion of the Church’s overall property. Both during the period when the patriarchal see was administered by a locum tenens and after the establishment of the Holy Synod, the church administrative apparatus also exhibited considerable inertia. Many of the old departments continued to exist under different names for a long time after 1721. Peter I overestimated the importance of the collegial system in matters of high-level administration, believing that by creating the collegially functioning Holy Synod, he had found the best means of combating the shortcomings in the life of the Church. As in all areas of state administration, Peter began church reform from the top down; later, however, he no longer had time for the systematic transformation of the entire organization as a whole or for the improvements he deemed necessary. Individual measures in this area were carried out in conjunction with other reforms of state and public life.

One of the main shortcomings of church life in the pre-Synodal period was the lack of education among the parish clergy, whose training was given too little attention by the church hierarchy, from the patriarch down to the diocesan bishops. There was a shortage of schools offering both general education and specialized ecclesiastical programs. This reflected Muscovy’s attitude toward education in general. Secular education was viewed with suspicion, as it could become a source of heresy, and the role of theological instruction was also underestimated. Due to the liturgical nature of Russian Orthodoxy, it emphasized the ritual and ceremonial aspects, pushing the role of reason in the understanding of dogma into the background. The establishment of schools began in the mid-17th century, but proceeded very slowly, and it was not until the end of the century that church authorities began to take part in the process [3] . The shortage of qualified teachers was particularly acute at first. Throughout the 18th century, a distrustful attitude toward education remained largely unresolved. Therefore, it is by no means an exaggeration to say that the underdevelopment of the school system became the fateful legacy that the Church of the Synodal era inherited from the past.

Another negative phenomenon inherited from the past was the schism of the Old Believers, the immediate cause of which was, once again, the liturgical character of Old Russian Orthodoxy. The schism was a deep, painful wound on the body of the Russian Church, one that never healed throughout the entire Synodal period and greatly weakened the Church’s spiritual strength. The Church made the struggle against the schism the priority of all its missionary activity, squandering its energies almost in vain and thereby losing sight of other important tasks of pastoral ministry. This situation was further complicated by the fact that the state authorities, pursuing their own political agendas (which had already become apparent in the 17th century), intervened in the Church’s dispute with the schismatics and very soon began to play a leading role in it. As a result, the Church’s missionary work among the schismatics was discredited, and ecclesiastical authority was undermined. The stubborn resistance of the schismatics contributed to the formation of sects and their widespread proliferation. The unsuccessful struggle against sectarianism hampered pastoral work in Orthodox communities; the latter, left without proper guidance from the Church, fell victim to the dangerous consequences of Peter’s reforms, which manifested themselves in the secularization of popular life as a whole.

b) Alongside these internal factors—which cannot be overlooked when considering the consequences of Peter’s church reform—there are external factors that, although arising independently of the Church’s internal life, nevertheless had a strong impact on it. The church life of any nation is closely intertwined with transformations in the political and cultural spheres. In the history of Russia from the 18th to the 20th centuries, four major factors can be identified that presented the Church with extremely difficult challenges: 1) the territorial expansion of the state; 2) population growth; 3) changes in the social structure and cultural landscape; 4) the new nature of state power and its stance toward the Church [4] .

The territorial expansion of the state led to the expansion of dioceses, the construction of new churches, and an increase in the number of bishops and clergy. Already in Muscovite Russia, and especially toward the end of the 17th century, the growth of the state’s territory raised the question of increasing the number of dioceses. During the imperial period, continuous territorial expansion unfolded as follows:

Year	Europe	Asia
in square miles
1682	about 79,345	185,781
1,725	82,687	192,882
1795	95,173	210,621
1,825	104,926	234,945
1,867	106,951.07	272,689.74
Total: 379,630.81
Caspian and Aral Seas 9,680.63
Total territory of the empire: 389,311.44 square miles⁵

By the time of Alexander II’s death (March 1, 1881), when territorial expansion had effectively come to an end, the state’s territory—following the annexation of Turkestan—amounted to 403,060.43 square miles (i.e., 22,189,368.3 square kilometers, or 19,498,188.3 square versts). During the reigns of the last two emperors—Alexander III and Nicholas II—taking into account some territorial gains under Alexander III and minor losses (half of Sakhalin Island) under Nicholas II, the total territory of the empire amounted to (as of January 1, 1910, and until July 20, 1914) 394,462 square miles (i.e., 21,735,995 square kilometers, or 19,099,165 square versts)[5] .

A characteristic feature of population movement in connection with the expansion of the territory was that the indigenous Russian Orthodox population of the Muscovite State, having been drawn into processes of both private and state colonization, partly preceded state expansion (primarily to the East and further on to Siberia) and partly followed it; but in both cases, settlement did not occur in compact masses but rather in a scattered manner, in small groups among non-Russians and people of other faiths. Now, the empire’s subjects included representatives of other Christian denominations, as well as an ever-increasing number of pagans, Muslims, and Jews. During the 18th and 19th centuries, Russia transformed into a multi-denominational empire, where, ultimately, the Orthodox population no longer constituted an absolute majority. The Church was faced with the question of its attitude toward other Christian denominations, as well as that of missionary work. The task of missionary work proved particularly urgent in the new dioceses of Siberia, which, alongside Orthodox Russian communities, also included territories with populations of other faiths. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the size of many dioceses was inversely proportional to the number of their Orthodox flock.

The expansion of the state’s territory—taking the territory of the 17th-century Muscovite state as the starting point—occurred in three directions: west, south, and east. Advancement in each of these directions presented the Church with new challenges. Only the expansion to the north had been completed as early as the 15th century, reaching the shores of the White Sea.

The expansion to the west began under Peter I and ended under Alexander I (1801–1825). The western regions annexed to Russia had, alongside a by no means small Jewish population, a population consisting exclusively of Catholics and Uniates—who were subject to the Pope and under the jurisdiction of the Roman Catholic Church—as well as Protestants —mostly Lutherans and, to a much lesser extent, followers of the Reformed doctrine [6] . Here, the Russian Orthodox Church found itself in direct contact with Western Christian denominations, which confronted it with a whole complex of problems associated with this kind of coexistence.

First, the issue of missionary activity came to the forefront, primarily among the Uniates. This concerned those whose ancestors had belonged to the Greek Orthodox Church prior to the Union of 1596, as well as those who had been drawn into the Union through the efforts of the Roman Catholic Church, with the support of the Polish state authorities, in the 17th and 18th centuries. The return of these people to Orthodoxy was desirable both for the government, first and foremost, and for the Russian Church. Second, the Russian Church had to take into account the possibility that the Orthodox population of the empire—and above all Russian merchants, officials, and the like who lived in the western regions—might, to one degree or another, be influenced by Western denominations. Naturally, in the eyes of the leadership of the Russian Church, this new issue was linked first and foremost to the problem of sectarianism. The Church’s position in the western regions was particularly complicated by the state policy of Russification, which tended to enlist the Church’s services for this purpose. Forced to take political and national state policies into account in its missionary activities, the Church—just as it had with the Old Believers who had broken away from it—found itself in a delicate position vis-à-vis other Christian denominations, which often led to misunderstandings and misinterpretations of its actions and goals.

The empire’s expansion southward to the shores of the Black and Azov Seas meant the acquisition of new, sparsely populated steppe regions in Tavria, Crimea, and the North Caucasus. In the 18th and 19th centuries, these lands were gradually settled by Russians. Starting in the second half of the 18th century, the government of Catherine II began inviting German colonists—most of whom belonged to various Evangelical sects—to the country, settling them specifically in the aforementioned regions. Over time, German settlements spread throughout the vast expanse of the steppes [7] . From the second half of the 19th century, the religious influence of German sectarians on the Orthodox population began to manifest itself with particular force, and the Russian Church found itself face to face with rapidly developing Protestant sectarianism.

From the 18th century onward, Russia’s expansion southward was closely linked to the so-called “Eastern Question”; in addition, ties with the Orthodox Churches of the Balkan Peninsula and with the patriarchates of the Middle East were strengthened. In the tsarist government’s policy toward Turkey and the Orthodox Slavic peoples of the Balkans, purely political interests were intertwined with national and religious ideas. The Russian Church’s diverse ties with kindred Churches of the East depended to a large extent on the state’s foreign policy.

The eastward expansion, which had begun even before the 18th century, intensified throughout the 18th and 19th centuries. New territorial acquisitions in Asia, with their ethnically, linguistically, and religiously mixed populations, compelled the Church to engage in missionary work among pagans and Muslims. Only a few scattered settlements of Orthodox Christians, far apart from one another, could serve as bases for such work across this vast expanse [8] .

The growth of the empire’s total population—now religiously mixed—was determined through so-called “revisions” until the second half of the 19th century; it was not until 1897 that a regular, comprehensive census was introduced. With some reservations, the following data can be relied upon:

1722–1724	(1st revision)	14 million
1762	(3rd census)	19 million
1,812	(4th revision)	41 million
1858	(10th revision)	74 million
1862	(incomplete count)	82,172,022 [9]
1897	(1st census)	128,239,000 [10]
(revised)	128,924,289 [11]
1910	(estimated)	163,778,800
1914	(estimated)	178,400,000 [12]

Thus, the total population of the state increased nearly 12-fold between 1722 and 1724.

As early as 1870, the religious diversity of the population and its distribution across the territory of the state were viewed from a national-political perspective as unfavorable factors: “Although Orthodox Christians constitute the vast majority of the empire’s population, the religious composition of the population cannot be considered entirely favorable from a political standpoint. For example, the western frontier is home to a Catholic population that is hostile not only to Orthodoxy but to everything Russian in general. Protestants predominate in the Baltic provinces and in Finland. The eastern provinces, beginning with the Kama and Volga rivers, are inhabited almost entirely by Muslims; in the Caucasus, Muslim religious fanaticism has been the cause of a bloody and protracted war. Furthermore, one should not overlook the harmful influence exerted on Orthodoxy by schism; although the schismatics, due to their fragmentation into numerous sects—often hostile to one another—do not constitute a unified whole, they nonetheless all view Orthodoxy with hostility”[13] .

The percentage distribution of the population by religion presents the following picture:

Religions	1858	1870	1897	1910
Orthodox (including co-religionists)	72.63	70.8	69.9	69.9
Old Believers (officially registered)	1.05	1.4	?	?
Armenian Gregorians	0.68	0.8	?	?
Uniates (according to official data, none were present)	0.31	0.3	?	0.96
Roman Catholics	9.05	7.9	9.91	8.9
Protestants	5.4	5.2	4.85	4.85
Other Christian denominations (mostly sects)	–	–	0.85	?
Muslims	7,138	7.10	83.10	83
Pagans (according to official data)	0.690	7.0	5.0	5 [14]
Judaists	3.06	3.2	4.5	4.5

These government figures, especially those concerning Old Believers and sects, cannot by any means be considered entirely reliable. According to the 1912 report of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, there were 99,166,662 Orthodox Christians in the empire [15] . However, since the majority of Old Believers and sectarians officially identified themselves as Orthodox, approximately 15 million should be subtracted from this number [16]

. This would mean that the number of Orthodox Christians constituted about half of the total population. While at the beginning of the Synodal period the “dominant” Orthodox Church enjoyed a significant numerical advantage over other denominations, by the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries, one could speak only of a numerical balance between them. From then on, the Orthodox Church was dominant solely by virtue of the legal status conferred upon it by state laws, having lost the ability to cite the number of believers. The “Russian Church” became the “Orthodox Church of the Russian Empire.” Now the Church found itself not in a country that was practically homogeneous in terms of religion, but in a multi-confessional empire. In this we see a major difference from the pre-Petrine era.

These consequences of the country’s territorial expansion in the 18th and 19th centuries altered the Church’s position during the Synodal period not only in religious but also in political terms. The internal connection between the Church and the state, which had been of decisive and, moreover, positive significance for Muscovy, had now become, in a certain sense, formal—declared by state laws, but nothing more (see § 5). The weakening of the Church’s position was already evident in the second half of the 19th century. The laws on religious tolerance enacted after 1905, which affirmed and expanded the rights of persons of other faiths and religions, did not deprive the Orthodox Church of its status as the dominant church, but nevertheless significantly weakened the legal foundation upon which that status was built.

c) Along with the external difficulties mentioned above, which the Russian Church had to face during the Synodal period, one cannot fail to mention the internal difficulties associated primarily with the pastoral care of the Russian people. Under the influence of Peter I’s reforms, which affected all aspects of state and public life, as well as under the influence of the consequences of these reforms, the character of the Russian people changed significantly.

Up until the 18th century, the Russian people’s worldview and way of life were shaped entirely by the Church, and by the Church alone. Family, social, and public life were all governed by church regulations. The people’s worldview was developed exclusively on the basis of the teachings of the Orthodox Church and remained unshaken until the 18th century. All state legislation was guided by church norms. Even everyday life was regulated not so much by state regulations as by church statutes. Representatives of all estates (or rather, all strata of the population), from the tsar and the boyars down to the townspeople and peasants, felt equally compelled to obey these rules. In all strata of the population, the hierarchy and the clergy dealt with people who not only recognized the Church’s religious and ethical requirements but also strove to fulfill them to the best of their ability. The religious and moral views of the tsar and the poorest peasant were, on the whole, identical. The structure of social relations, with all its contradictions and conflicts, was also embedded in these views. Even when these contradictions erupted into unrest and uprisings, as was the case, for example, in the 17th century, both sides remained within the framework of the traditional worldview shaped by the Church, striving to align their actions with its norms. Before issuing a new decree, the tsar consulted not only with his dignitaries but also with the patriarch. In preparing the Code of 1649, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, like all his secular and ecclesiastical advisers, considered it necessary first and foremost to bear in mind “the rules of the holy apostles and holy fathers” and “the city laws of the Greek kings” (i.e., the Byzantine emperors). Significant features of the Byzantine tradition persisted in Muscovite Rus’ until the Petrine reforms [17] . The first chapter of the Code is devoted to crimes against the faith and church order, for the latter formed the foundation of state and social life. There were instances when the tsar clashed with individual church hierarchs or exerted pressure on them [18] , but it was, in principle, impossible even for him to violate church canon or any requirement of the church charter. The tsar saw himself as the bearer not only of state and political obligations but also of religious and ethical ones. He was required not merely to rule the state but also to care for the souls of the subjects entrusted to him by God. If, for example, a decree by Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, in view of the approaching Great Lent, prescribed that the Orthodox people conduct themselves in accordance with church rules, then neither the tsar himself, nor the clergy, nor anyone among the people saw this as an interference with the rights of the Church. An Orthodox tsar was expected to care not only for the maintenance of external state order but also for the internal well-being of his people [19] .

Yes, of course, society in the Muscovite state was extremely differentiated in terms of its obligations to the state and the tsar; however, with regard to the Church and its demands, it was united. Under such conditions, the Church’s pastoral work was a relatively simple task. Unfortunately, this apparent lack of problems was fraught with grave negative consequences. The Church hierarchy tended to completely ignore the fact that behind the static nature of outwardly established traditions—which were accepted, so to speak, instinctively—lay a multitude of problems of a religious and moral nature that still lacked a satisfactory solution. This led to urgent issues—such as the question of schooling—being neglected or removed from the agenda altogether. The view of traditional religious and ethical norms was optimistic, even tinged with pride, as evidenced by numerous examples, such as that of the prominent 17th-century figure, Archpriest Avvakum. This circumstance played an important role in the history of the emergence of the Old Believer movement.

The liturgical character of Russian Orthodoxy, which seemed unshakable and timeless, was regarded as the foremost value. This distinctive character persisted even during the Synodal period, when signs of the disintegration of the old foundations were already becoming apparent in many strata of society. It is here, too, that we must seek the causes of the contradictions that led to the schism in the second half of the 17th century. Throughout the Synodal period, the followers of the schism zealously preserved the most essential elements of the Old Moscow tradition. However, the breakdown of ecclesiastical unity by no means implied that those who remained with the Church, having chosen not to join the schism, were prepared to sacrifice this liturgical character of their faith. On the contrary, it can be argued that the very existence of the schism actually strengthened the liturgical character of the Church itself, making any further improvements (for example, in the divine services) nearly impossible, even though they were highly desirable. And yet, over the course of the next two centuries, the schism weighed heavily on the life of the Church, which, shortly after its emergence, was subjected to a new and severe upheaval [20] .

The reforms of Peter I, by striking a blow against traditional notions as a whole, thereby also struck at the Church. All of the tsar’s reforms were imbued with a spirit of secularization that shook the entire fabric of traditional norms in people’s lives. The contrast between old-Moscow conservatism and secularizing Europeanization became particularly acute. For that segment of Russian society that embraced Europeanization—whether voluntarily or under duress—the old traditional order, rooted in the Church’s worldview, very soon came to mean nothing more than the relics of a past that had been left behind. Another segment of the population, however, sought to preserve its traditions even under the new conditions of life. With each passing decade, the consequences of Europeanization became increasingly pronounced, deepening the spiritual division among the people and the lack of mutual understanding between its two parts. One must also take into account Peter’s reorganization of society based on new estates, each of which was influenced in its own way by European views and concepts. Under Catherine II, the process of legally and socially dividing the people into separate estates was finally completed. At the same time, the pace and degree of actual Europeanization could vary for each estate. When discussing worldview, it is important to know whether and to what extent new ideas found acceptance, and to what extent they shaped people’s outward behavior and their inner attitudes. Here, the radicalism and maximalism of the Russian character revealed themselves: just as fanatically as the Old Believers defended the “old faith,” another segment of Russian society renounced its past, unconditionally following new Western models. The influence of the latter was already felt in Moscow as early as the 17th century. However, at that time, religious and ecclesiastical criteria—by which these innovations were evaluated—were still fully in force; now, however, they had been lost [21] .[

]The differing legal status of the estates, which were isolated from one another—above all, the uneven and unjust distribution among them of the state’s burdens, such as taxes and military service—became less and less consistent with Old Russian moral concepts of justice, or “pravda,” with each passing decade. The Russian Church lacked the courage to bring these facts to the government’s attention. From the time of Peter I onward, the right of metropolitans or patriarchs to express their warnings and concerns to the tsar—the right to “lament”—had been definitively lost; this right had been an important factor in relations between the Church and the tsar during the Old Moscow period. The state now acted according to the will of an absolute autocrat—the emperor—and the Church assisted him in this, unconditionally transferring its support from the church-rooted Moscow autocracy to the autocracy of the St. Petersburg emperors, who, in the eyes of the Church, remained bearers of the tsarist title. The fact that the foundations of the old and new forms of government were different was not taken into account.

The social structure of Muscovy comprised three main estates: the military class, the townspeople, and the peasants. In terms of their worldview, these estates formed a unity, preserving the integrity of the people, since their position in relation to state authority and to one another was defined by their duties [22] . If the tsar recognized and publicly proclaimed his relationship to the “Orthodox people entrusted to him by God” as a duty, then the estates also viewed their relationship to state authority from the same perspective. Strictly speaking, this was not so much a matter of a relationship to abstract state authority as it was to the person of the tsar himself. It was only Peter I who brought to the forefront the concept of the state as such and the idea of public service. It will be shown later that Peter’s church reform also followed this same line of thought. From then on, the Church, too, was obligated to public service. This, in essence, was the meaning behind the inclusion of its collegial leadership—the Holy Synod—in the state administrative apparatus. The Church, which until then had served the Kingdom of Heaven, was now, according to Peter’s vision, to serve the earthly kingdom as well. The salvation of the soul—that was what the Russian people aspired to. Everything earthly was, for him, transitory, relative, devoid of value, and at best a stepping stone to heaven. Influenced by Western ideas, Peter attributed an independent value to the earthly realm, a concept unknown to Muscovy. The Church was to build this earthly realm by raising good citizens—or, more precisely, good subjects of the tsar. The Church was, in a sense, the inner core of the social order; it was upon the Church that the task of creating a person oriented toward the interests of the state fell. The Church was supposed to ensure that the Russian people voluntarily submitted to the new demands. In carrying out his reforms, Peter wanted the people to see him, just as they had seen previous rulers, as the executor of God’s will, accountable to God for his actions.

This task posed great difficulties for the Church: it had to deal with a congregation that was completely different from what it had been before. Peter’s reforms overturned all traditional concepts and notions. The entire structure of society was swept up in the process of transformation [23] . The fate of the peasantry in this process was particularly telling. Peter completed the process of binding the peasants to the land, a process that had begun with the Code of 1649 (Chapter 11), which legally tied peasants to their places of residence. The introduction of the poll tax created the conditions for landowners to become lords and owners of “souls”[24] . The peasants’ dependence on their landowners took on its final form under Empress Anna Ioannovna, when in 1731 she transferred the collection of the poll tax to the landowners, and in 1739 issued a decree stipulating that only landowners, church institutions, and factories had the right to own peasants. Subsequently, the legislation and practices of the era of Catherine II led to the complete enslavement of the peasants [25] .[

]While the peasants remained subject to the landowners and continued to perform duties for their benefit, the landowners and the nobility as a whole were relieved of the obligations of service that had been imposed on them by Peter I. Under Peter’s decree of March 23, 1714, regarding the inheritance of estates, nobles who owned land on the condition of military service became unconditional owners of their estates, which created the legal basis for the transfer of ownership of both the land and the peasants living on it to them. Under Peter’s successors, a series of decrees followed that expanded the rights of landowners, although at first they still retained certain obligations of public service. But on February 18, 1762, Peter III issued a manifesto “On Granting Liberty and Freedom to the Entire Russian Nobility,” which completely abolished these obligations. Freed from the obligation of public service, a large number of nobles flocked to the provinces, where they settled on their estates. Catherine II completed this process with her decree of April 21, 1785, “On the Rights, Freedoms, and Privileges of the Noble Russian Nobility,” under which the nobility became a privileged class. Subsequently, through a series of further decrees, the peasantry was definitively placed under its control, remaining in this position until Alexander II’s Manifesto on the Emancipation of the Peasants of February 19, 1861.[26]

The deprivation of rights for a large portion of the peasantry (as late as around 1870, peasants still constituted approximately 76.6% of the country’s total population) undermined the moral foundations of the social order, for it contradicted the very basis of the Russian people’s moral and legal consciousness and their conception of “justice.” While the “noble aristocracy” viewed its right to own serfs as a class-based right and a privilege serving as the “pillar of the throne,” the Russian peasant’s worldview—despite Peter’s reforms—remained rooted in the traditions of old Moscow. He viewed serfdom not from a legal perspective, but exclusively from a religious and moral standpoint—as a condition that contradicted the Lord’s commandments. Thus, serfdom further deepened the rift that had run through the body of Peter’s class-based empire as a result of Europeanization.

However, it would be unfair to claim that the entire nobility considered serfdom to be a normal and just phenomenon. As early as the 18th century, we find among certain members of the nobility (Radishchev and others) a clear understanding of its negative aspects and outrage at the trampling of the moral and legal foundations of the social order. In the first half of the 19th century, this protest grew even stronger, spreading not only among the nobility but also to members of other social strata, particularly the gradually emerging intelligentsia. In the first half of the 19th century, liberal-minded circles in society attempted—to the extent that censorship permitted—to denounce serfdom as a vice of the autocratic system through fiction, journalism, correspondence, and the like. Right up until 1861, this protest—which was, of course, only one component of liberal aspirations as a whole—stimulated the so-called emancipation movement, which in turn provided fertile ground for the revolutionary movement. The Church’s silence made it and its representatives (bishops and parish clergy) appear, in the eyes of liberal circles, to be jointly responsible with the state authorities for the shortcomings of both the social and political systems. The Church was regarded not only as a conservative but also as a politically reactionary force, a pillar and an accomplice of state absolutism. Due to a certain short-sightedness that had always been characteristic of Russian liberals and revolutionaries, they viewed conservatism as a sign of a lack of culture and education. It was precisely this kind of reproach that was constantly directed at the clergy, remaining a constant feature of the criticism leveled against the Church and its representatives by liberal circles. On the other hand, since liberal sentiments were nourished by Western philosophical teachings, Russian liberalism and the radicalism that stemmed from it very easily shifted from social and political criticism proper to a positivist and materialist worldview, which ultimately led them to atheism or even anti-religious convictions.

This gave rise to a large segment of society whose members were formally registered as Orthodox Christians, although in reality they maintained no relationship with the Church. The secularization of society was particularly pronounced in the cities, whereas rural priests typically had closer ties with their congregations.

Now the Church was dealing with a divided society. The methods of pastoral care in the city and in the countryside—toward ordinary parishioners, on the one hand, and toward the indifferent or hostile masses, on the other—had to be completely different. Meanwhile, the clergy was completely unprepared to address such a problem and received no guidance on the matter from the bishops. Preaching became particularly difficult. It was necessary for the sermon to resonate with secularized segments of the population while at the same time being accessible to the far more numerous strata of the people who remained faithful to tradition and the Church—above all, the peasants, as well as the petty bourgeoisie and the working class. Although these segments of the population remained closely connected to the Church throughout the synodal period up to the of the 20th century, sects were also making their presence felt among them; these, like the schismatics, required well-organized missionary work. Now the Church had to carry out this work within the framework of its new relationship with the government, under the state church system. Here, great difficulties and complications lay in store for it. We will see exactly how these relations between the Church and the state developed during the Synodal period [27] .

d) Let us return once more to the Moscow period. The new relations between the Church and the state were not determined solely by the state church system. The well-known preconditions for them had already taken shape during the Moscow period, and they were rooted both in historical reality and in the prevailing mindset of church politics at the time. The specific structure of the Old Russian worldview and the psychological attitudes associated with it sometimes exerted a strong influence on the course of historical events, but not the other way around. The resonance that particular events evoked among the people was often also a consequence of religiously conditioned views on the nature of tsarist power and earthly authorities in general.

In the relationship between the state and the Church in Muscovite Rus’, two trends intersected: the political growth of the state led to the gradual crystallization of the concept of tsarist authority; at the same time, after the Eastern Roman Empire ceased to exist following the fall of Constantinople, state thinking became increasingly imbued with the idea of the Byzantine legacy. The conception of the tsar as the heir to the rights and duties of the Byzantine emperors shaped the thinking not only of the rulers themselves but also of the church hierarchy, the monastic community, and the entire population. The scope and nature of monarchical authority, as embodied by the tsar, changed primarily under the influence of the rapid growth of the Muscovite state. In the second half of the 15th century and at the beginning of the 16th century, the new Muscovite state emerged from the fragmented principalities; this transformation, in its main features, took place during the reign of Ivan III (1462–1505)[28] . In the eyes of the Church and the people, the Grand Prince of Moscow was the absolute head of the nation [29] . During the politically crucial decades of Ivan III’s reign, the nature of tsarist autocracy was the subject of lively debate in Moscow. Moscow scholars could discuss this issue only from the perspective of those concepts regarding the sovereign’s power and its relationship to the Church that had spread to Rus’ from Byzantium along with Christianity. When Christianity arrived in Kyiv at the end of the 10th century, the concepts of empire (imperium) and priesthood (sacerdotium) in Byzantium were already well-developed and legally defined [30] . Justinian’s Novels (527–565), concerning relations between the state and the Church, were incorporated into the Slavic *Kormchaya Kniga* as early as the 11th–12th centuries [31] . The Byzantine Ekloga (c. 750) contained provisions regarding the sovereign’s duty to uphold justice, as well as the divine origin of imperial (royal) authority [32] . In Moscow, the Epanagoga (between 879 and 886) served as the primary basis for interpreting the relationship between the state and the Church [33] . At the same time, Moscow scholars were far less interested in historical reality than in the conceptual framework set forth in the Byzantine texts. Other sources on the relationship between the state and the Church included the Bible and the writings of the Church Fathers. From all of this, Moscow primarily adopted two theories, or two doctrines: that royal authority is grounded in the Word of God, and that of diarchy, or the harmony between spiritual and secular authorities [34] .

The adaptation of these borrowed ideas in Moscow was influenced by specific political circumstances. First and foremost, Moscow scholars drew upon the ancient Kyiv tradition, according to which princes and grand princes were regarded as Christian rulers possessing certain rights and obligations toward the Church [35] . This legacy served as the foundation for subsequent ideological evolution after the Grand Prince refused to recognize the Union of Florence (1439). In doing so, in the eyes of his contemporaries, the Grand Prince emerged as a defender of the Orthodox faith, overshadowing Byzantium, which had united with the “Latin heresy”[36] . The fall of Constantinople and the collapse of the empire destroyed the diarchy and the harmony between secular and ecclesiastical authorities required by theory [37] . It became necessary to restructure political practice to bring it back into line with theory, and such a restructuring had already been in preparation in Moscow since 1448. From that time on, the election of Russian metropolitans was carried out by the Council of Russian Bishops (the Consecrated Council) without the approval of the candidate by the Patriarch of Constantinople, and it was stipulated that the election took place “according to the will of my son, Grand Prince Vasily Vasilyevich”[38] . Ten years later, at the Local Council in Moscow, it was established that the election of the Metropolitans of Moscow would henceforth take place “by the choice of the Holy Spirit and according to the holy canons of the holy apostles and holy fathers,” as well as “by the command of our lord Grand Prince Vasily Vasilyevich, the Russian autocrat”[39] . The marriage of Grand Prince Ivan III to Sophia (Zoe), the niece of the last Byzantine emperor, underscored this succession. In 1480, the Moscow State’s dependence on the Tatars—albeit by then purely formal—was finally eliminated [40] .

All these events served as a powerful impetus for theoretical thought, while at the same time steering it along a very specific course. From then on, it was Muscovite Rus’ that was seen as the guarantor ensuring the preservation of Orthodoxy in its purity and integrity. The Tsar of Moscow became the rightful holder of all the rights and duties of the Byzantine emperor. Consequently, he was now the “Orthodox Tsar,” without whom the entire religiously grounded system of the Old Russian worldview would have lost its foundation. The Byzantine doctrine of “symphony” proved to be entirely applicable to the conditions in Moscow. The Russian Church was the only one that had preserved the treasure of Orthodox doctrine in its purity, while the sovereign was its defender and guardian. And when Ivan IV (1533–1584) officially assumed the title of tsar in 1547, it was a perfectly logical step. After all, even before that, the grand princes were referred to as tsars in Moscow’s written sources [41] . Thus, the concept found in official church writings and Moscow publicist works of the second half of the 15th and early 16th centuries became a living state and ecclesiastical-legal reality: the world’s only Orthodox tsar sat on the Moscow throne as an autocrat [42] .

It is difficult to find another period in Russian history when the issue of relations between the state and the Church so vividly captured the public imagination. As a result of the intellectual work carried out at that time, a state-political concept was created that endured for several centuries—a concept that neither Peter the Great’s reforms nor the subsequent Europeanization were able to completely destroy. At the core of this concept lay the vision of the future of the Muscovite state—of “Moscow as the Third Rome” ([43] )—a theory that was by no means primarily political, but rather religious and messianic in nature. In the journalism of that time, Moscow—the last legitimate heir to the “Second Rome,” or Constantinople—was viewed not so much as a political center with imperial aspirations as the guardian of true orthodoxy throughout the world—until the end of time. The eschatological nature of the Old Russian worldview—by virtue of which all earthly matters were viewed from the perspective of their transience—led to the political aspect of the issue, that is, the earthly realm, being pushed far into the background. We emphasize this point in particular in light of other, unfounded interpretations of the idea of “Moscow—the Third Rome.”

As a consequence of the idea of the “Third Rome”[44] , a distinct theory regarding the Orthodox tsar emerged. The tsar is portrayed as a “righteous tsar” who is subject only to divine justice, “truth,” and who is concerned with preserving and upholding the Orthodox faith in all its forms and institutions, including its churches and monasteries. The tsar rules according to God’s will for the sake of the salvation of souls and to protect his subjects from physical and spiritual distress [45] . Based on these premises, new rights of the tsar in the religious sphere were established. From the time of Ivan IV, the tsars regarded intervention in church affairs as the fulfillment of their duty to preserve the purity and inviolability of the Orthodox Church. Neither the tsar nor the church hierarchy saw this as any kind of “tyranny” on the part of the state. The legal aspect of the matter was completely disregarded. It never occurred to anyone to use individual instances of state intervention as precedents for constructing a system of “Moscow state ecclesiastical authority.” For example, the fact that the tsar presented a staff to a newly consecrated metropolitan—and later to a patriarch—in a church did not in any way signify investiture; that is, it did not indicate the Church’s legal subordination to the tsar [46] . It was a symbol that in Muscovite Russia, the state and the Church pursued a common goal. Since the tsar’s absolute power—limited only by the will of God and the tsar’s accountability to God [47] —was not enshrined in any law whatsoever, there was no definition of the tsar’s rights in relation to the Church. Moscow was unfamiliar with the norms of Roman law. More important, however, is another factor—that distinctive feature of Old Russian thought which allowed life itself to recast the tsar’s obligations toward the Church into legal norms [48] . Thus arose the practice of the tsar nominating candidates to fill episcopal and metropolitan sees, as well as the patriarchal throne. Beginning with Ivan IV, who took an active part in the Stoglav Council, the Moscow tsars, following the example of the Byzantine emperors, began to convene Local Councils of their own accord and to ratify their decisions [49] . When the revision of church books ordered by Patriarch Nikon (1652–1667) led to the schism of the Old Believers, the state took a stand against the schismatics as the defender of orthodoxy [50] . Moreover, the Old Believers, in their petition for the restoration of the “old faith,” appealed specifically to the “Orthodox Tsar” rather than to the Patriarch of Moscow [51] .

The ambiguity of legal norms—or, more precisely, the absence of such norms—ultimately led to the tragic clash between Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Influenced by the *Epanaagoge*, which had just been translated in Moscow and called for harmony between secular and ecclesiastical authorities, Nikon sought this harmony in Moscow; and, failing to find it, in the heat of the debate even began to assert the primacy of ecclesiastical authority [52] . The trial against Nikon (the sessions of the Council of 1667) unfolded not as a legal debate between opposing parties, but as a purely personal conflict between the tsar and the patriarch, mired in personal animosities and intrigues [53] . The tsar emerged victorious thanks to the diplomatic acumen of the Eastern patriarchs who were invited to Moscow and supported him [54] . Such an outcome could, of course, be viewed as the subjugation of the Church to the state. However, when assessing the matter on its merits, one cannot help but notice that the state—feeling confident within the framework of its long-standing traditional relations with the Church and its customary notions of the rights of tsars—refrained from formally articulating its position. The tsar entrusted this task to the Eastern patriarchs, who had received in advance from Moscow a set of very skillfully drafted questions containing no specific details about the nature of the conflict [55] . The patriarchs’ response (the Tomos) was partly based on the Epanagoge, although in its exaltation of tsarist authority it went far beyond the theory of symphony. Thus, the Response (chap. 13) states that the patriarch has no right to interfere in state affairs or even to take any part in them at all, unless the tsar so desires. Chapter 5 emphasizes the unlimited nature of the tsar’s authority, but the vagueness of the wording leaves open the question of to what extent exactly it extends to the Church. Therefore, the official Russian translation of the Response was published under the title: “Responses of the Four Ecumenical Patriarchs to 25 Questions Concerning the Tsar’s Unlimited Authority and the Patriarch’s Limited Authority”[56] . As is well known, the most serious charge leveled against Nikon was that of interfering in state affairs, which the patriarch was alleged to have committed. This same charge also played an important role later on, for example, during the drafting of Theophanes Prokopovich’s “Spiritual Regulations.” In justifying the abolition of patriarchal authority, Theophanes unambiguously referred to the case of Nikon. However, the underlying goal of the boyars’ intrigues against Nikon was by no means to obtain from the patriarchs a theoretical definition of the relationship between tsarist and patriarchal authority. The decisive factors were considerations of a highly practical nature , stemming from the class and economic interests of the boyars and the tsar’s retinue. At issue was the question, raised anew under Nikon, of expanding the patriarch’s lands and the new privileges associated with them. Thus, here too one can discern an internal connection with Peter’s later policy regarding church land ownership—a policy that was by no means something entirely new. The ecclesiastical jurisdiction to which these vast territories were subject was disadvantageous to the boyars, the service class, and the Moscow bureaucracy, since the latter could not count on receiving estates there or on winning potential legal disputes over any of the local lands. In 1649, the Code (Chapters 12 and 13) resolved the issue of jurisdiction to the detriment of the Church [57] . After a series of futile attempts to protest this decision, Nikon finally succeeded in 1657 in obtaining from Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich confirmation of the right to independent administration and jurisdiction over the patriarchal lands [58] . The development of Nikon’s personal relationship with the tsar proved decisive: Nikon enjoyed such authority in the tsar’s eyes that the 23-year-old Alexei Mikhailovich himself implored him to accept the patriarchate, promising to follow his advice in all matters. Shortly thereafter, Nikon, like Patriarch Filaret, received the title “Great Sovereign and Patriarch”[59] . In the tsar’s absence during the war with the Poles and Swedes (1656–1657), Nikon, at Alexei Mikhailovich’s request, ruled the country autocratically on behalf of the sovereign. Upon his return, the tsar—not without the influence of the boyars—wished to free himself from Nikon’s tutelage, but Nikon proved too unyielding. In the summer of 1658, a rift occurred between the tsar and the patriarch, leading to Nikon’s trial.

We have discussed this conflict between the two authorities in considerable detail because it was, not least, the catalyst for Peter’s church reform. In the late 17th and early 18th centuries, the clash between the tsar and the patriarch was still fresh in people’s minds. In response to the charges brought against him, Nikon put forward the doctrine of “the two powers,” which asserted the primacy of the priesthood over the kingdom and undermined the image of the “Orthodox tsar” with his duties and rights. Had Nikon prevailed, clericalism would have triumphed in Russia. The tsar, for his part, although he did not theoretically question the doctrine of Moscow as the “Third Rome,” in practice had ceased to be guided by it. The Church found itself effectively subordinate to the state, which was already a step toward Peter’s reforms. Peter feared the emergence of a second Nikon, which could jeopardize his plans for reform in Russia. Peter also knew that under Patriarch Joakim (1674–1690), the Church had regained some of the land holdings it had lost under Nikon [60] . These were the very “attempts” that Peter could not forget and which, in his eyes, cast a very specific light on Nikon’s cause.

In summary, it must be said that relations between the state and church authorities in the 17th century developed in full accordance with the actual situation in the country, and none of the numerous theories of the 15th–16th centuries had any significant influence on them. The tsar’s authority, rooted in the people, and the patriarch’s traditional (autochthonous) authority created the specific conditions for a diarchy, which—provided that ecclesiastical authority was recognized in all spheres of public life—transformed into a symphony. Without idealizing this symphony, one must nevertheless acknowledge that, before Peter introduced state-sponsored religion, the Church had never degenerated to the level of a state institution. Despite all the conflicts between the two authorities, the Church always stood outside state institutions. State interference in church affairs and the Church’s occasional submission to the tsar’s will in matters of governance were never based on any legal norms that would regulate relations between the state and the Church. The Church viewed these instances as an inevitable consequence of the sinfulness of the world and of humanity. It was all the easier for the Church to come to terms with this state of affairs because its early Christian eschatological worldview remained unshaken right up until the Petrine Reform. Therefore, the Church did not attach primary importance to matters of state, public, and social order, which in practice meant non-interference in state affairs and a passive response to the state’s actions in the ecclesiastical sphere. It was believed that preparing for life in heaven was more important than improving the conditions of earthly life. It can be argued—and this will become clear in what follows—that the Russian Church did not lose its eschatological stance even during the Synodal period.

With such a worldview and such a perception of history, there was no reason to fear any active resistance by the Church to state reforms. Nikon’s idea of the priority of ecclesiastical authority over secular authority—in the sense of the Church’s practical guidance of earthly affairs—had not the slightest chance of finding understanding among people of the Old Russian mindset with their eschatologically oriented consciousness. Nevertheless, Peter feared such a possibility because he underestimated the eschatological and liturgical nature of the Russian faith. Therefore, it seemed insufficient to him to simply reap the benefits of this faith’s conservatism; he deemed it necessary to establish a new foundation for the Church—based on state legal norms.

B. Sources and Literature on the History of the Synodal Period

a) The very nature of the sources on the history of the Synodal period proves that the Russian Church had entered a new era, distinct from the previous one. Whereas prior to the 18th century, state legislation in the form of tsarist decrees played a secondary role in church life and was implemented for the most part in consultation with the head of the Church—the metropolitan or patriarch—the picture during the Synodal period was entirely different. The government issued an ever-increasing number of decrees and laws on matters of church administration without any prior consultation with church leadership. These decrees concerned not only the central governing body of the Church—the Holy Synod—but also the departments and institutions subordinate to it and the entire life of the Church: diocesan administration, parish clergy, monasteries, theological schools, pastoral work, missionary activity, and even the Church’s position toward other Christian denominations or non-Christian religions within the empire. Given this profound penetration of state legislation into church life, a study of the Synodal period cannot proceed without drawing upon numerous legislative acts from the realm of secular history.

Below (§§ 6, 11), we will show in detail which major legal sources—both ecclesiastical-canonical and state—served as the basis for the activities of the church administration—the Holy Synod and the diocesan administrations in all their branches. Here, however, we will limit ourselves to listing the sources necessary for studying the Synodal period.

Official sources—decrees, laws, and various resolutions or orders that constituted the legal basis of church administration—are contained in official compilations and publications issued on behalf of the government or the Holy Synod. Diocesan bishops also issued orders based on state legislation or decrees of the Holy Synod.

Another group of sources consists of documents that, although not official in nature, are nonetheless no less important for the history of the Synodal period. These include memoranda, reports, letters, and, finally, memoirs. Here, attention should be drawn to a rather extensive range of memoirs—not only by representatives of the Church (bishops, priests, monks, etc.), but also by laypeople who either report on ecclesiastical events or express their opinions on various aspects of church life in Russia.

After the death of the last Patriarch Adrian (October 15, 1700) and Peter I’s transfer of control over the Church to the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne, an era of vigorous state legislation began, affecting nearly all aspects of church life. The most important legal documents were government decrees, since at that time Russia did not yet have a Code of Laws [61] .

Beginning with Peter I, the emperor’s will became the source of legislation. The emergence of state-controlled ecclesiastical affairs meant that the Church, too, became subject to this legislation. Imperial laws or decrees, issued in the form of edicts, statutes, or even manifestos—such as, for example, the manifesto establishing the Spiritual Collegium, later renamed the Holy Synod—are acts of primary and most important legislation, constituting the foundational material for the history of the Russian Church from the time of Peter the Great until 1917. A significant source, especially for the period from 1700 to 1825, is the collection of decrees compiled in the Complete Collection of Laws of the Russian Empire. The most significant of these are also contained in special collections of acts published by the Holy Synod in the 19th century.

The compilation of all legislative acts into a single collection was initiated only under Nicholas I and published under the title: Complete Collection of Laws of the Russian Empire (PSZ). The First Collection covers the period from 1649 to December 12, 1825 (1 PSZ). The second volume (2 PSZ) covers the period from December 13, 1825, to February 28, 1881, and the third volume (3 PSZ) covers the period from February 1, 1881, to 1913.[62]

When using the PSZ, the following should be taken into account: PSZ Vol. 1, as mentioned, includes a large number of decrees concerning the Church. Some of them were later included in the PSPiR (see below). In the 2nd PSZ, by contrast, there are significantly fewer such decrees. Only those decrees, statutes, and the like that required the emperor’s signature are published here. The same applies to the Third Collection of Imperial Decrees. This is explained by the fact that by that time the Code of Laws had already been published, in which numerous legal norms were definitively established, so that when resolving purely administrative matters, it was no longer necessary to resort to imperial decrees as frequently as had been the case in the 18th century. In addition, the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories was issued in 1841, which formed the legal basis for diocesan administration for the entire subsequent period up until 1917.

Decrees and resolutions of the Holy Synod pertaining to administrative matters were published in various issues of the *Diocesan Gazette* or “Diocesan News,” as well as in the official section of the Holy Synod’s publication, which appeared under the title “Church Gazette” from 1875 to 1887 and “Church Bulletin” from 1888 to 1917. In addition, some voluminous regulations (such as statutes, instructions, etc.) were published separately. Official materials include as well as the official sections of the “Diocesan Gazette,” where, alongside decrees of the Holy Synod, orders from local diocesan bishops were also printed [63] .

Another source is the Code of Laws of the Russian Empire from 1832. The Code consisted of 15 volumes, and from 1864, when the Judicial Statutes were published, it consisted of 16 volumes. Of these, the most important for the Church are volumes 1, 9, 10, and 12–14, although all the other volumes also contain laws concerning church property, the clergy, and other matters.[64]

The Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, published in 1841, was reissued in 1883 with minor changes. The Charter is the most important source for studying the structure of diocesan administration [65] .

From the time of Alexander II, other legislative documents relating to the Church began to appear. These were primarily opinions—that is, decisions—of the State Council, issued under the emperor’s signature. They concerned church affairs partly throughout the entire empire and partly in its individual regions (for example, in Poland, Siberia, etc.). They addressed topics such as schism, church property, sectarianism, and others. These opinions were published in official government periodicals and then distributed in the form of decrees of the Holy Synod to the relevant diocesan administrative bodies. Decisions and clarifications issued by the Governing Senate played a similar role. These addressed various issues arising from the Code of Laws, administrative orders of ministries, and so on, which were not formulated clearly enough and therefore were open to different interpretations. Some of the Senate’s clarifications also interpreted various articles of the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories in light of newly enacted laws—for the most part, these were matters of diocesan administration that did not require the emperor’s intervention, such as church property or pensions for the clergy.

The full body of state laws regulating the life of the Church was inaccessible in the provinces, especially to the parish clergy. Meanwhile, familiarity with the laws was absolutely essential, since ignorance could easily lead to conflict with the state, even if unintentional. Therefore, beginning in the second half of the 19th century, experts began publishing various Explanations, Reference Guides, Manuals, and the like. As reference works, they are also indispensable to the Church historian [66] .

In the 1860s, a special commission was formed under the Holy Synod to process and publish various documents from the Holy Synod’s archives (see § 6). As a result of the commission’s work, by 1916 two collections had been published, containing highly valuable material on the history of both the Holy Synod itself and all branches of church administration and church life as a whole. The first of these is titled: Complete Collection of Resolutions and Orders Concerning the Department of the Orthodox Faith (PSPiR). When using or citing documents from it, it is advisable to keep in mind that it consists of five series, a fact that is often overlooked when citing. For the period 1721–1741, the Collection was published under the above-mentioned title; by 1916, this first series already comprised ten volumes. Their contents are as follows: 1 (1721, i.e., all acts relating to the establishment of the Holy Synod), 2 (1722), 3 (1723), 4 (1724–1725), 5 (1725–1727), 6 (1727–1730), 7 (1730–1732), 8 (1733–1734), 9 (1735–1737), and 10 (1738–1741). Thus, this collection covers the period up to the accession of Empress Elizabeth [67] . At the end of the 19th century, when the Archival Commission of the Holy Synod was expanded, its funding was increased, and the best specialists were recruited; in order to stimulate scholarly research, it was decided to publish documents simultaneously in various series, each covering the reign of a particular sovereign. The four volumes of the PSpiR devoted to the reign of Empress Elizabeth bear the subtitle “The Reign of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna” (PSPiR, E. P.): 1 (November 25, 1741–1743), 2 (1744–1745), 3 (1746–1752), and 4 (1752–1762)[68] . The three volumes covering the era of Catherine II bear the subtitle “The Reign of Empress Catherine II” (PSPiR, E. II), namely: 1 (1762–1772), 2 (1773–1783) and 3 (1784–1796)[69] . Documents relating to the reign of Paul I (1796–1801) comprise a single volume titled “The Reign of Emperor Paul I” (PSPiR, P. I)[70] . No collection of documents from the Holy Synod’s archives covering the reign of Alexander I was published prior to 1917, and only one volume (1825–1828) was published covering the reign of Nicholas I, with the subtitle “The Reign of Emperor Nicholas I” (PSPiR, N. I)[71] . In addition, the period of this monarch’s reign is covered by “Materials on the History of the Russian Church during the Reign of Emperor Nicholas I,” published by the historian and priest M. Ya. Moroshkin. In it, he provides a detailed account of the activities of the Holy Synod and the diocesan bishops, based on their reports to the Synod; in addition, many other issues related to church administration are discussed. This work is of great importance, as it includes extensive excerpts from documents that have not yet been published [72] .

Concurrently with the PSpiR, which, among other things, reprints the decrees of the Holy Synod on general church administration, the Archival Commission began publishing a collection of materials titled “Description of Documents and Cases Held in the Archive of the Holy Governing Synod” (ODDS). This publication contains descriptions of a wide variety of documents: reports from diocesan administrations and monastery abbots, petitions from individuals, etc. Some of these documents are often reproduced almost in their entirety in the appendices. While the PSpiR primarily includes materials on the history of the highest ecclesiastical administration, the ODDs covers the history of church life in general: the status of parish clergy, theological schools, monasteries, and monasticism; the religious and moral condition of the faithful; and other topics. The collection consists of 22 volumes, namely: 1 (1542–1721), 2 (in 2 parts) (1722), 3–8 (1723–1728), 10–12 (1730–1732), 14–16 (1734–1736), 20 (1740), 26 (1746), 29 (1749), 31–32 (1751–1752), 34 (1754), 39 (1759), and 50 (1770); volumes 9, 13, 17–19, 21–25, 27–28, 30, 33, 35–38, and 40–49 are missing. Since the volumes of this collection, starting with volume 3, are organized by year, this means that the archive descriptions for 1729, 1733, 1737–1739, 1741–1745, 1747–1748, 1750, 1753, 1755–1758, 1760–1769, and for the period after 1770 are missing.[73] [74]

In addition, some descriptions of documents and manuscripts from the Synodal Archives were published outside of this edition [75] .

The Most Humble Reports of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, which were published annually or biennially from 1836 to 1914, are always divided into two parts. The first part contains the text of the report, while the second part consists of statistical tables illustrating specific chapters of the first part. The statistical data mostly pertain to the previous year; in the later volumes, such tables often cover a two-year period. The statistics are not always complete, as reports from certain dioceses were sometimes submitted late. These gaps are often discovered only after a detailed examination, since they are not specifically noted. Caution is also necessary when working with the materials in the first part, because they—especially during the tenure of K. P. Pobedonostsev and V. K. Sabler—are frequently written in an exaggerated “patriotic” tone and tend to embellish the state of affairs. The reports from the period when Count D. A. Tolstoy served as Ober -Procurator (1866–1880) are more businesslike and less colorful. Ober- N. A. Protasov began submitting his reports to the authorities in printed form in 1836; however, they were not published in full, but only as Excerpts from the Most Humble Reports for the respective year. Despite the abridgments, these “Excerpts” are in many respects more valuable than the later full reports (though it is difficult to say how complete they are); some data for 1836–1861 are much more detailed—for example, data on monastic ordinations include categories not only for social class but also for age and social background. For the years 1861–1865, neither Extracts nor Reports were published. From 1885 onward, such Extracts were always titled Reports. The last of these, for 1914—which is also incomplete in statistical terms due to the outbreak of the war—was published in 1916.[76]

Very important material, collected by historians in the 1960s when certain archives became more accessible, can be found in various monographs. The archival codes for these materials are indicated in the relevant places here. We will mention only a few publications that are of particular significance not only for specific moments but also for entire periods of church history.

First and foremost, we should mention the documents from the personal archive of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov of Moscow (1821–1867). Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov, the editor of this extremely extensive collection of documents, was also able to include some materials from the Synodal Archive and even from the Archive of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. These latter documents—reports and letters from the ministry—concern relations between Russia and the Russian Orthodox Church, on the one hand, and the Orthodox East and the Balkan Slavs, on the other, during the 1850s and 1860s. They are of particular value, as there are no publications from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Archive that specifically address the Russian government’s church policy toward the Near East. The materials from Metropolitan Filaret’s archive cover nearly all aspects of church life over the course of half a century. They are not only important for understanding Filaret Drozdov’s views on the relationship between the state and the Church during his time—that is, during the reign of Nicholas I—or for studying various aspects of church administration, the state of theological educational institutions, and so on, but also reflect the position of the Church and church policy during an era when the government sought to rely on the “dominant” Church, while simultaneously shaping that support in such a way as to be able to exercise complete control over it. Through his memos, drafts, and letters, Filaret Drozdov emerges not only as a prominent figure of the era of state-Church relations, but even more so as an outstanding theologian, canonist, and ecclesiastical politician. And even if one does not always share his views or approve of his decisions, the historian cannot help but pay tribute to his intellect, his talent, and, at the same time, his subtle understanding of the Church’s situation. Much of what came from Metropolitan Filaret’s pen is more significant than other official documents of that time. Filaret’s personality shines even more brightly when we supplement this historical material with his sermons and speeches, which constitute an important contribution both to the history of preaching and to theological scholarship and church culture [77] (see § 9).

It is impossible in these pages to list all the documentary materials written by numerous representatives of the church hierarchy and parish clergy in cities and villages, professors at theological academies, and others—whether in the form of memos for official use or confidential letters. Here, the historian finds himself behind the scenes of official church life in Russia, and we considered it particularly important to draw on this material as extensively as possible. On the whole, these materials are scarcely used by historians, despite the fact that they offer a great deal in terms of characterizing opinions within church circles regarding the government’s church policy, reforms or attempts at reform, and specific—sometimes very important—issues of church administration, education, and so on. Examining these materials sheds new light on church events and necessitates revisions to many assessments; references to them are provided either in the bibliography or in the notes [78] . Here, we will mention only a few works of this kind. Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov († 1896), who served as a diocesan bishop for several decades, left behind a diary that was published only after his death in several volumes under the title “Chronicle of My Life.” The “Chronicle” not only reflects the author’s own views but also includes numerous letters from bishops and other correspondents. Thanks to this, historians will find an abundance of highly reliable material here that characterizes the views and ideas of Savva’s contemporaries over a 50-year period—from 1850 to 1896. The “Chronicle” demonstrates the full diversity of thought and opinion among people during the Synodal era [79] . Another work of this kind, though not as extensive, is the memoirs of Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich († 1890). They are distinguished by great sincerity and also constitute an extremely valuable source, particularly regarding the history of the episcopate and the scholarly monastic community [80] .

The detailed diary of Archimandrite (later Bishop) Porphyry Uspensky († 1885) provides important material specifically on the history of relations between Russia and the Russian Church with the Orthodox patriarchs of the East in the 19th century. The diary is interesting not only for its facts but also for the perspectives of a representative of the Russian Church who spent many years in the Middle East and was able to witness firsthand the local conditions and the “unofficial” attitude of the Greeks toward Russia and the Russian Church. The book serves as an excellent complement to Filaret Drozdov’s views on this subject. Thus, the diary deserves attention not only as a source on the history of the Russian Orthodox Church in particular, but also because it contains information on the situation of the Orthodox Church in general [81] .

Both the materials mentioned above and other publications, scattered throughout the pages of journals and devoted either to specific issues of church life or to brief periods of time, all pertain to the 19th century, and their content does not extend beyond the early 1890s. For the last 25 years of the Synodal period, there is significantly less unofficial data, and it is more difficult to trace not only the external aspects of church life but also its internal developments.

From this period, the letters of K. P. Pobedonostsev († March 10, 1907), Chief Prosecutor (1880–1905) of the Holy Synod, deserve special mention. They date from the reign of Alexander III (1881–1894), who was their primary recipient. The long-standing friendship between these two men—which had bound them together, largely due to their shared views, long before 1881—lends the letters a special air of intimacy. They portray both an active monarch and a minister devoted to him. Another collection of letters by K. P. Pobedonostsev, which specifically addresses the issue of the Old Believer schism in Russia, may serve as a supplement. However, these letters must also be consulted when studying other aspects of church life during Pobedonostsev’s era, as they vividly reflect his church policy as a whole and his general conception of the Church under his leadership. In this regard, all of Pobedonostsev’s other writings are also important [82] .

There is another collection of documents that, despite its official nature, offers a glimpse into the very depths of Russian church life in the early 20th century. These are the reports of diocesan bishops, certain ecclesiastical consistories, and assemblies of the lower clergy regarding the reforms in the Russian Church that were planned in 1905–1906 but never implemented. The unique nature of these reports was shaped by the specific political situation of the time. The government’s confusion, the turmoil in public sentiment—a society split into numerous factions—and the temporary restriction on freedom of speech—all of this together could not help but affect the mood of the episcopate and the clergy in general, who, for nearly two centuries prior , whether willingly or unwillingly, had, if not remained silent, at least behaved with restraint. For the first time in the entire synodal period, the bishops and clergy finally dared to express their opinions with full confidence that the planned reform would indeed be implemented. The statements made by Church representatives did not pertain solely to the brief period of 1905–1906—many of these accounts provide important material for studying the preceding period. Of great interest are also the “Journals and Minutes of the Pre-Council Assembly,” published in 1906–1907, which acquaint us with the main features of the planned reform [83] . In a certain sense, the numerous articles from theological journals from 1905–1907 can also be considered authentic historical material. They reflect the views on the state of the Church held by the hierarchy, the faculty of theological academies, and the clergy. The candor of the statements in these writings—at times striking—and their critical tone show that none of these circles remained indifferent to the reform [84] .

Among the published sources, we find little material on the history of individual dioceses. Beginning in the early 1860s, dioceses began publishing “Diocesan Gazettes,” and ecclesiastical-archaeological societies were established in many dioceses [85] . However, neither the “Diocesan Gazette” nor the publications of the ecclesiastical-archaeological societies dealt extensively with the history of the 18th and 19th centuries; nevertheless, documents from this period can occasionally be found in them alongside decrees of the Holy Synod and orders from diocesan bishops. The *Diocesan Gazette* contains more material on the history of preaching, as it published many sermons composed during the period of interest to us. The articles on history published there are, for the most part, not strictly scholarly. Their authors were almost exclusively members of the white clergy or teachers at local seminaries. At the same time, the appearance of such works indicated that interest in scholarship and local history was quite high even in the remote provinces. The publications of ecclesiastical-archaeological societies featured many often highly valuable documents, though these mainly pertained to the period prior to the 18th century. These publications should also be taken into account, although they are now almost inaccessible [86] . It is also worth mentioning the “Proceedings” or “Bulletins of Archival Commissions,” which existed in many governorates. The materials on the history of the Russian Church published in them again pertain to the period prior to the 18th century. Among the staff of these archival commissions were many clergymen and teachers at theological seminaries [87] .

The above covers the most important collections of primary sources. As mentioned, a great deal of short-form material is scattered across various journals that published works on the political history of Russia or the history of its spiritual culture. Among these journals, special mention should be made of *Readings of the Imperial Society of Russian History and Antiquities at Moscow University*, where the “Miscellany” section published many important official documents, including those relating to the Synodal period [88] .

b) The following literature review mentions only those works that focus either on the Synodal period as a whole or on sufficiently long segments of it, and which examine church life in its entirety. Monographs devoted to the study of specific issues or individual events of this period will be discussed in Volume 2.

In 1805, Metropolitan Platon Levshin († 1812) published *A Brief History of the Russian Church*. This work can be regarded as the first attempt at a scholarly and critical account of the history of the Russian Church. However, the author covers only up to the final years of the patriarchate, and the conclusion of Volume 2 explicitly states that Metropolitan Platon had no intention whatsoever of writing about the church reform or the later events of the 18th century. He makes only one brief remark, from which his negative attitude toward Peter’s reform becomes evident: “The reasons for the abolition of the patriarchate are explained in the ‘Spiritual Regulations,’ and one should not venture to question them”[89] . Several years later, in 1807–1815, *The History of the Russian Hierarchy* was published in Moscow; it is generally considered the work of Bishop Ambrose of Ornatsk, although its chief compiler was Bishop Eugene Bolkhovitinov. The book provides an overview of ecclesiastical chronology, contains some documents, and includes brief descriptions of dioceses and monasteries. It contains many errors, as the authors published documents without verifying them. In Volume 1 (p. 19), there is only a brief mention that, by decree of Tsar Peter, the Most Holy Governing Synod was established, consisting of bishops and other clergy [90] . For purely bibliographic reasons, we will mention Bishop Innokenty Smirnov’s two-volume work, *An Outline of Church History from Biblical Times to the 18th Century*; however, it cannot by any means be classified as scholarly. In Volume 2, the author briefly notes that after the abolition of patriarchal authority, the administration of the Church “was entrusted to six hierarchs (!), or the Holy Synod.” For the reasons behind the abolition of the patriarchate, see the “Spiritual Regulations” (Vol. 2, p. 576). Innokenty did not even bother to correctly state the number of members of the Synod [91] .

In A. N. Muravyov’s *History of the Russian Church*, published in 1838, only the last ten pages are devoted to the Synodal period. Among church historians, Muravyov was the first to briefly summarize the contents of the *Spiritual Regulations*, which, according to him, “were discussed at the Council”; He also refers to the Holy Synod as a “Council,” which was recognized by the Ecumenical Patriarchs. Although Muravyov drew on many documents and letters—including unpublished ones—when describing the period up to the 18th century, his work lagged far behind the scholarly standards of the time [92] .

Only Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky’s *History of the Russian Church* deserves to be called a fully scholarly work, though it suffered from censorship due to the critical method employed by the author. A section of this work—on “Synodal Administration in 1721–1825”—was first published separately in 1848 and later became the fifth volume of the *History*. Even the first edition of this section caused the author trouble with the Holy Synod, stemming from the fact that Archbishop Filaret took the liberty of accusing Theophan Prokopovich, the compiler of the “Spiritual Regulations,” of harboring Protestant sympathies. Filaret promised to amend this statement in the second edition, but this did not prevent the latter from languishing for nearly 10 years in the censorship department of the Holy Synod. It was not published until 1859, when censorship had eased somewhat. Anticipating these obstacles, Filaret refrained from addressing the activities of the Holy Synod in the second edition. He also avoided making any particularly bold or critical remarks about the situation of the parish clergy and the episcopate, because here, too, the historian faced numerous pitfalls. It goes without saying that Filaret, with his strictly Orthodox views, did not approve of the mystical fads and ideas of “universal Christianity” that had spread under Alexander I. Therefore, he had to remain silent on these matters as well. Later, in the second volume of his *Survey of Russian Spiritual Literature*, published as early as 1862, Filaret spoke very sharply about these phenomena and criticized Theophan Prokopovich. Like A. N. Muravyov, he refers to the Holy Synod as a “legitimate permanent pastoral council.” Despite its many omissions and veiled presentation, Filaret Gumilevsky’s *History of the Russian Church* retains its significance if only because it marked the first step in the study of the history of the synodal period [93] .

The fifth volume of Filaret Gumilevsky’s work, which covers the synodal period up to 1825, remained for some time the only work on this subject and served as the basis for a number of brief general overviews of the history of the Russian Church, compiled in the 1960s and 1970s as school textbooks. However, these cannot be considered scholarly research [94] .

Two factors influenced the development of research on the history of the Synodal period in the 1860s. First, in the 1830s and 1840s, the Archaeographic Commission published collections of documents containing a wealth of material on the history of the Russian Church, which Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky, for example, was able to use in his work; however, these covered only the period up to the end of the 17th century. A large number of documents from the era of Peter I remained unpublished. Second, the debate between the Westernizers and the Slavophiles—which centered on the significance of the historical turning point initiated in Russia by Peter’s reforms—sparked interest in both the reform itself and its consequences. The introduction of a religious dimension into the debate surrounding the reforms—namely, the question of the influence of Orthodoxy and church life on the worldview and customs of Muscovy—led to the question of the significance of this factor for Russian history in general. All of this required knowledge of Church history both from the pre-Peter era and from the early 18th century onward. And so, in the late 1850s, the still very young field of Russian historical scholarship took what was, in a sense, a risky leap: without a detailed scholarly and critical study of the pre-Peter era, it set out to examine the 18th century, which marked the beginning of the reforms [95] . In this context, as curiosity and interest in scholarship began to manifest themselves with particular vigor, the broadly conceived but unfinished work by N. G. Ustryalov (1805–1870), *The History of the Reign of Peter I* (1858–1864), was published between 1858 and 1864. Although it is more a biography of the reformer-tsar than a history of his era—and was, moreover, written in a certain sense from “official” perspectives—the *History* nonetheless represents a first step toward a better understanding of the Petrine era. Although Ustryalov was unable to bring his account up to the establishment of the state church, he nevertheless touched upon various aspects of the conflict between Muscovite and Petrine Russia. The fact that Ustryalov was granted access to the archives also benefited his research. In the appendix, he published many documents, some of which shed light on the situation of the Church [96] . Several years later, in 1868, the first scholarly and critical monograph, written by the young professor of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, I. A. Chistovich (1828–1893), *Theophan Prokopovich and His Time*, was finally published. As the title suggests, the author sought to offer more than just a biography of Theophan. Chistovich was the first to fully utilize the extensive material from archives that had previously been inaccessible. His work laid the cornerstone for research on the Synodal period. The author not only emphasizes the decisive significance of Theophan’s activities but also delves into the ecclesiastical and political atmosphere of the time, as well as the struggle of the Old Moscow faction against Theophan and Peter’s reforms. And even though today, 90 years later, one may find some erroneous or hasty judgments in Chistovich’s work, it should nonetheless be recognized as a major achievement. Many of his conclusions remain unshaken to this day, and any historian of the Synodal period should always keep this monograph close at hand [97] . Chistovich’s work provides insight into the beginning of the Synodal era: it covers the period up to approximately the early 1740s.

An attempt to provide a broader picture of the Synodal period can be found in the *Guide to Russian Church History* by P. V. Znamensky (1836–1910), a professor at the Kazan Theological Academy. It discusses not only the activities of the Holy Synod, but also diocesan administration, the religious life of the people, the status of the clergy, missionary work among the non-Christian populations of the empire, and so on. The first edition of the book was published in 1870. In it, the history of the synodal period is covered only up to the end of Empress Elizabeth’s reign († December 25, 1761). The book is written in a free, narrative style, although the author did not seek to simplify the subject matter. This is a thoroughly original work: the organization of the material, the analysis of historical circumstances, the demonstration of interconnections between various phenomena and processes in the life of the Church, and the characterization of relations between the state and the Church—all of this, along with the scholarly and historical assessment of these facts, reveal the author’s talent. His thorough familiarity with the historical material of the period under study is also evident in his other specialized studies devoted to the second half of the 18th century, which were published earlier and later, in the 1870s, in the journal of the Kazan Theological Academy, *Orthodox Interlocutor*. In subsequent editions (1876, 1880, 1886, 1888), Znamensky expanded his “Guide,” ultimately bringing it up to the era of Alexander II (1855–1881). The study covers all areas of church life; facts and conclusions are presented clearly. The author is interested in both the history of church institutions and the internal life of the Church, its reflection in the religious and moral condition of the people, and the activities of schismatics and sects. Znamensky emphasizes the historical significance of Peter I’s church reform, which, he believes, through the Holy Synod and its relationship with state authority, established an external administration of the Church that became part of the general state administration. In addition, Znamensky is the author of two works that constitute a comprehensive study of church life during two eras in the history of the Russian Church: *Readings from the History of the Russian Church During the Reign of Catherine II* and *Readings from the History of the Russian Church During the Reign of Alexander I*. They complement the *Guide*, primarily due to the sources cited in them, which the author was forced to omit from the *Guide*; like the *Guide*, these are not popular works but independent scholarly studies. In 1896 , Znamensky revised the “Guide” into the “Textbook on the History of the Russian Church,” which subsequently became a textbook for theological seminaries and even academies (2nd edition in 1904, 3rd in 1912). In addition, Znamensky authored several monographs on various periods of history, written from a scholarly and critical perspective and still essential for scholars today [98] .

A systematic, though dry compared to Znamensky’s works, account of the Synodal period is provided by A. P. Dobroklonsky (1856–1937) in Part 4 (published in 1893) of his *Guide to the History of the Russian Church*. A graduate of the Moscow Theological Academy and a student of E. E. Golubinsky (1834–1912), Dobroklonsky was considerably more cautious than his teacher. In the first three parts of his “Guide,” covering the period up to the 18th century, he followed for the most part the twelve-volume “History of the Russian Church” by Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov, rather than the critical fervor of Golubinsky’s research. Dobroklonsky bases his history of the Synodal period, which extends to the early 1880s, on the reproduction of documentary material, without delving into either a critique of the era or its consequences for church life, nor into an evaluation of them. The author is very precise in his citations of sources (a quality he inherited from Golubinsky), which allows the reader to verify his conclusions. Despite the absence of criticism—which is, of course, explained by the fact that the work was written during the Pobedonostsev era—Dobroklonsky’s “Guide” cannot be considered an official publication, as many of its characterizations are entirely independent. This work can be very useful thanks to the systematic and methodologically sound organization of the material [99] .

At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, two works were published by S. G. Runkevich (1867–?), an official in the office of the Chief Prosecutor, who devoted himself to the study of the history of the Russian Church. First came his *History of the Russian Church under the Administration of the Holy Synod*. Vol. 1: “The Establishment and Initial Organization of the Holy Governing Synod: 1721–1725.” St. Petersburg, 1900. This work is a typical example of an official publication and, at the same time, an attempt to defend the thesis that the Holy Synod is an institution that cannot be placed on the same level as or compared to state institutions. Despite this vague definition, Runkevich did not venture to call the Holy Synod a purely ecclesiastical institution. Although the author had access to all documents in the Synodal Archive—even those classified as confidential—he limited himself primarily to examining the internal organization of the Holy Synod, which, of course, may also be of interest to historians, and avoided describing the activities of the Holy Synod during the reign of Peter I. He touched only briefly on the history of the beginning of church reform and the “Spiritual Regulations,” as well as on their content. It is unknown whether Runkevich intended to address these issues in the next volume. Apparently, the harsh criticism from reviewers discouraged him from continuing his work. A year later, Runkevich published another work—*The Russian Church in the 19th Century*—which also bears the stamp of officialdom and, at times, the “patriotism” characteristic of the author, but is very useful as an introduction. The author himself refers to his work as “historical sketches” and provides numerous references to sources and literature. The work is well organized—not without the influence of Dobroklonsky—and covers virtually all aspects of church life [100] .

Runkiewicz’s works, in fact, represented the last attempt at a systematic account of the history of the entire Synodal period or of sufficiently large segments of it [101] .

It would be appropriate here to mention a few more major monographs that, while examining specific issues in the history of the Synodal period, do so over an extended period of time. In this regard, the highly valuable work of N. P. Rozanov (1809–1883) remains of great significance. After graduating from the Moscow Theological Seminary, he served for a very long time—from 1835 to 1863—first as a clerk and later as secretary of the Moscow Ecclesiastical Consistory. As someone interested in historical scholarship, he had the opportunity to familiarize himself with the consistory’s administrative records and its archives. In 1869–1871, his three-volume (in five books) work titled *History of the Moscow Diocesan Administration from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy Synod: 1721–1821* was published. This work focuses primarily on the structure of the administration and provides a detailed account of all its components—the consistory, the urban and rural clergy, and so on. Since administrative methods throughout the 18th century were essentially the same everywhere, differing only in accordance with the personal character and temperament of a particular bishop, Rozanov’s work provides a vivid picture of the state of affairs in nearly all dioceses. Another merit of the author is that he utilized sources that are either still buried in the depths of archives or (more likely) are now lost to scholarship altogether [102] .

Professor K. V. Kharlamovich († after 1922) of the Kazan Theological Academy addressed an extremely important issue in the history of the Church and culture, intending to devote an extensive study to it. Unfortunately, only the first volume of this work was published, under the title “The Little Russian Influence on Great Russian Church Life” (Kazan, 1914, over 900 pp.). The first half of the 18th century saw an intense influx into Moscow and other Great Russian dioceses of monks and bishops (and, less frequently, lay clergy) from Ukraine, especially graduates of the Kyiv Collegium (from 1701—the Kyiv Theological Academy). Peter I and his successors (up to Catherine II), in need of educated people, did everything in their power to promote the growth of their influence. Kharlamovich conducted a meticulous study of this process, beginning in the mid-17th century, carefully examining all spheres of activity of these individuals: education, monastery administration, diocesan administration, preaching, and missionary work—and attempted to answer the question of how, when, and to what extent their activities had a negative or positive impact on church life. This book can also serve as a reference work, as the author has managed to trace the biographies of all these individuals using archival data. It provides a very good overview of virtually all aspects of church life prior to 1762 and is particularly valuable to historians because, having been written shortly before 1917, it represents the final word in Russian church scholarship, correcting a whole series of previous erroneous judgments.

No less important is the extensive monograph by B. F. Titlinov (†?, probably after 1925), a professor at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, titled “Gabriel Petrov, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg: His Life and Activities in Connection with the Ecclesiastical Affairs of That Time” (St. Petersburg, 1916). Drawing on the biography of this outstanding figure of Catherine II’s era, whose activities were exceptionally diverse, the author examined the status of the Church under Catherine and painted a general picture of the era. The historian not only utilized virtually everything that had been published on the subject but also drew upon extensive archival materials. This enabled him to reshape the scholarly perspective on many issues [103] .

While Titlinov traced the history of the period when the state-church system established by Peter became a solid framework of relations between the state and the Church, Professor P. V. Verkhovskaya (d. after 1920) of Warsaw University provided a well-documented and, apparently, definitive assessment of the causes and nature of Peter’s state-church system. His in-depth work *The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium and the “Spiritual Regulations”* (Rostov-on-Don, 1916) can be regarded as the final word on this important topic. Anyone intending to study the history of the Synodal period must begin with a thorough examination of Verkhovskoy’s work [104] .

In conclusion, it is necessary to mention the work of the renowned Russian church historian E. E. Golubinsky (1834–1912). His *History of the Russian Church* covers only the period up to 1563. But during the turbulent years of 1905–1906, when there was so much debate about the need for radical church reform, the elderly and already blind scholar set forth his own opinion on the matter, also offering in passing several interesting observations on the Synodal period. These remarks deserve attention, even though Golubinsky did not specialize in the history of that period [105] .

A review of the literature would be incomplete without the works of Russian specialists in state and ecclesiastical law, which primarily address two important issues. First, they offer assessments of fundamental aspects of the relationship between the state and the Church following the establishment of the Holy Synod, in comparison with the era of Muscovite Rus’. Second, they attempt to elucidate these issues from the perspective of the canonical law of the Orthodox Church [106] .

Among the publications offering a systematic account of the history of the synodal era and published outside Russia, there are no independent studies. The reason for this, in our opinion, is primarily a lack of knowledge of the Russian language, which bars access to sources and other literature. Another contributing factor was the fact that the Eastern Church in general, and the Russian Church in particular, attracted no interest anywhere outside of Russia. It was not uncommon for hasty and superficial views on this part of the Christian world to be uncritically accepted and widely disseminated. Orthodoxy was regarded as something stagnant, rigid, and even un-Christian [107] . A few reviews—very brief and, moreover, derivative—presented a distorted picture of the development of the Russian Church during the Synodal period [108] . Only in the last 20–30 years has there been a noticeable increase in interest in Eastern Christianity, manifested first and foremost in a turn to Russian sources and Russian literature, and subsequently in the publication of a number of specialized studies that are well worth attention. We will discuss these in more detail below, in Volume 2; here we will touch only on works of a more general nature. Although the work by the American historian J. S. Curtis, “Church and State in Russia. The Last Years of the Empire, 1900–1917” (New York, 1940) covers only a brief period and does not adequately address all aspects of church life, it is nonetheless very useful for studying the final years of the era that concerns us.

A more significant place in the historiography of the Synodal period is occupied by the extensive work by the Catholic Church historian and member of the Society of Jesus, A. M. Ammann, *Abri? der ostslawischen Kirchengeschichte* (Vienna, 1950). Here, considerable space is devoted to the history of the Russian Church, and the Synodal period is also described in sufficient detail. The author focuses primarily on the external history of the Church, while issues of its internal structure and internal life are pushed into the background, which may lead the reader to hasty and inaccurate conclusions. Despite this, the book is of interest for the history of this period, and especially for the history of the Russian Church. Its merit lies in the fact that it is based on primary sources and a wide range of Russian literature, the references to which (and this should be noted) are quite detailed.

R. A. Klostermann’s work *Probleme der Ostkirchë: Untersuchungen zum Wesen und zur Geschichte der griechisch-orthodoxen Kirche* (Gothenburg, 1955) is distinguished by its thoughtful and sympathetic approach to the fate of the Church in Russia. Although the author does not provide a general systematic overview of the Synodal period, his book examines in detail many important phenomena of that time: preaching, missionary activity, sects, religious philosophy in Russia, and others. An extensive bibliography makes this study even more valuable [109] .

c) While, when studying Russian history prior to the 18th century, many events in the realm of state policy can be clearly understood only in light of ecclesiastical events and the religious views prevalent at the time, a church historian who turns to the period beginning with the reign of Peter the Great, that is, the period following the establishment of the state church, is able to form a correct judgment about many or even almost all the processes and phenomena of church life in Russia only by delving deeply into its secular history. Peter’s reforms brought about enormous changes in the social, political, and cultural development of the empire, but many elements of the old order survived. The researcher must take these into account as well, even though at first glance they might seem to have nothing to do with the history of the Church. It is often insufficient to study only general works, and one must turn to specialized studies.

One cannot overlook the diverse range of supplementary literature here. Various types of Russian dictionaries and encyclopedias can be very useful. Valuable reference material is often found in foreign encyclopedias as well [110] .

As for cartographic materials, older editions—those published before 1917—are preferable. They are few in number, but they nevertheless make the work much easier. When consulting newer atlases published in the USSR, an inexperienced reader may encounter difficulties due to changes in the names of settlements and in the territorial divisions of the former Russian Empire [111] .

Chapter I. The Emergence of the State Church

§ 1. The Church and Peter the Great

a) The reforms of the highest administration of the Russian Church carried out by Peter the Great created an entirely new position for it within the state. The question arises: what could have been the reasons that prompted Peter to undertake these changes? In other words, why was the existing system of church governance unacceptable to Peter? Equally significant is the question of what role Peter’s personal religious views played in the reform of church governance.

A negative attitude toward the way of life in Muscovy was undoubtedly deeply rooted in Peter’s mind from his earliest years. Peter was born on May 30, 1672,[112] , and was the son of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich (1645–1676) and his second wife, Natalya Kirillovna Naryshkina (they were married in 1651; she died on January 25, 1694). Tsar Alexei died on January 30, 1676, when Peter was not yet four years old. After his father’s death, Peter witnessed the quarrels that plagued the life of the royal family throughout the entire short reign of the weak-willed and ailing Tsar Fyodor Alexeyevich (1676–1682)[113] . After his death, an open struggle broke out between the relatives of Tsar Alexei’s first wife—the Miloslavskys—and the Naryshkin family. The young tsarevich, still a child, could not make sense of the intrigues of either faction. Fierce and bloody clashes took place before his very eyes, and these became an integral part of Peter’s image of the Muscovite state. On April 27, 1682, the day of Tsar Fyodor’s death, the ten-year-old Peter was proclaimed tsar in front of the Red Porch of the Tsar’s Palace. This occurred primarily thanks to the energetic actions of Patriarch Joakim (1674–1690). “Although there was not a shred of legality in this entire procedure,” Platonov notes, “the boyars were nevertheless satisfied, and Peter became tsar. The form of Peter’s election was illegal—that is obvious. The incapacity (mental disability) of Ivan, Peter’s 15-year-old brother, had not yet manifested itself, and Peter himself was only 10 years old at the time. Therefore, the supporters of the Miloslavsky family had the opportunity to protest against Peter’s suppression of the rights of his older, 15-year-old brother.” At the head of the dissidents stood Peter’s older sister, Princess Sophia Alexeyevna (born in 1657), who was related to the Miloslavskys by marriage; “she was undoubtedly a very intelligent and energetic person who felt stifled by the confining, quasi-monastic environment surrounding the Moscow princesses.” She had been a student of Simeon of Polotsk and, consequently, had also been influenced by Western European ideas. “Sophia’s highly developed ambition led her to see the possibility that, should Ivan ascend the throne, she could become the head of state as regent for her incapacitated brother, take the place of his mother, and rule the country”[114] . The efforts of the Miloslavsky faction and Sophia were successful. At their instigation, the streltsy appeared on the morning of May 15, 1682, in the Kremlin in front of the Red Porch, ostensibly to defend the rights of Tsarevich Ivan. The mutiny lasted two days, plunging the ten-year-old Peter into fear both for his own life and for the lives of those dear to him. Of course, the rebellious streltsy of 1682 or 1698 were by no means representative of all of Muscovy. However, the upheaval he experienced in May 1682 at the Red Porch left a lasting impression on Peter, fostering in him a distaste for the Miloslavsky family and a rejection of everything “Old Russian,” epitomized by the “Moscow faction,” all those “bearded men”—whether clergy or laypersons—who later, openly or secretly, hostilely or passively, opposed his reforms.

During the decisive days of August 1689, when the rift between Peter and the regent, Princess Sophia, became evident, the head of the Russian Church, Patriarch Joachim, openly sided with Peter. This must have made a favorable impression on Peter. But later, during the trial of Shaklovity, the leader of the Streltsy uprising, it was revealed that some members of the clergy and monks had participated in the uprising, inciting the Streltsy against Peter. The events of those August days coincided with the controversy over the “Bread-Worship” heresy, which had then reached its peak. The dispute was settled at the Council of 1690, but it later became clear that certain “bread-worshippers,” such as Silvestr Medvedev, found support in circles close to the regent, and especially with Prince V. V. Golitsyn. The patriarch learned that plans were being hatched in these circles to install Silvestr Medvedev as patriarch [115] , which made Medvedev a personal enemy of the vengeful Patriarch Joakim. It is therefore not surprising that Joakim sought to implicate Medvedev and other “bread-worshippers” in the Shaklovity case. As a result, the church authorities themselves ended up reinforcing Peter’s distrust of the clergy. Patriarch Joachim died in 1690. The new patriarch, Adrian (August 24, 1690 – October 15, 1700), was the least suited to the role of a man capable of vigorously defending the Church before the young tsar. Adrian, who rejected everything coming from the West, adopted a stance of passive opposition to all of Peter’s innovations. “Patriarch Adrian,” writes his biographer, “repeatedly emphasized to Peter the Great that even an inactive and unpopular patriarch would not be a sincere collaborator, since the patriarch’s primary duty is to uphold the Church’s privileged status quo, dating back to ancient times—a stance that clashed with the views of the great statesman and ideological champion of centralization —Peter the Great.” Therefore, Patriarch Adrian can be “considered one of the culprits who pushed the sovereign toward church reform, which manifested itself in the abolition of the patriarchate and the establishment of the Holy Synod”[116] .

Patriarch Adrian’s “fault,” strictly speaking, lay in the fact that he still upheld the worldview traditional to the Muscovite state—a worldview that, although shared by the entire clergy, was by no means professed as openly as Patriarch Nikon (1652–1667) had done half a century earlier. We know that Patriarch Adrian attempted, even in his “articles” and circular letters, to remind the young tsar that the priesthood (sacerdotium) stands above the kingdom (imperium). After Nikon, this was the only attempt by a member of the hierarchy to officially renew such a demand before the sovereign. Adrian’s predecessor, Patriarch Joachim, although far more energetic and active than Adrian, did not express such views, being more concerned with the practical side of matters than with theoretical discussions [117] . Although the decisions of the 1675 Council were a victory for the clergy, Patriarch Joachim did not succeed in achieving the actual abolition of the Monastery Office until 1677, after the death of Alexei Mikhailovich: the reign of the young Tsar Fyodor was more favorable to Joachim’s plans. In essence, the basis for all disagreements between secular and ecclesiastical authorities was the issue of the Monastic Office—that is, a purely practical matter, not one of principle. Generally speaking, the matter was equally important to both sides. The boyars and the service class stood entirely on the side of secular authority in this matter. The privileges enjoyed by church and monastic estates were equally burdensome to both the government and society. This issue had been raised and debated for nearly two centuries (beginning in 1503), but attempts to resolve it had always been half-measures favoring one side or the other. It is telling that the young Peter’s first measures in the realm of church policy were linked precisely to this issue, when in 1697 he issued a decree requiring that expenditure ledgers be submitted annually to the palace administration. In other words, church, episcopal, and monastic landholdings once again came under state control [118] . It would be incorrect to view this decree as something entirely new or as a measure directed against church administration. The step taken by Peter simply continued the policy of previous sovereigns, who, facing financial difficulties, had repeatedly attempted to resolve the sensitive issue of church estates. S. F. Platonov notes that during the lifetime of his mother, Natalya Kirillovna, Peter generally exercised little authority, leaving it to her—that is, in effect, to her inner circle—to act. After the tsarina’s death on January 25, 1694, “whether he liked it or not, Peter had to take charge of affairs himself and hear reports on day-to-day administration and foreign policy.” Thus began Peter’s reign. The unsuccessful campaign against Azov undertaken the following year, and then a second campaign in 1696, which ended with the capture of the city, cost a great deal of money. “In his politics, Peter followed the Moscow tradition… His methods of struggle did not deviate from the old forms,” says S. F. Platonov [119] . It is clear that as soon as the question of financing military operations arose, the Moscow clerks immediately recalled the government’s traditional methods of raising funds. Therefore, it is hardly possible to speak of Peter’s personal initiative or a new church policy even at that time. If we examine the measures taken by Peter while Patriarch Adrian was still alive, it becomes clear that these measures were the same as those taken under his father, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Thus, by demanding that the elderly Metropolitan Trephilius of Nizhny Novgorod (1697–1699) be transferred to the Diocese of Krutitsy instead of Archbishop Athanasius of Kholmogory (1682–1702), whom the patriarch had intended for that position, Peter acted entirely in the spirit of 17th-century autocracy.[120] Peter’s order to appoint the young Stefan Yavorsky to the See of Ryazan (April 7, 1700) should also be viewed from this perspective. In August 1700, Bishop Ignatius of Tambov was arrested after being implicated in the Talitsky affair; he was interrogated at the Preobrazhensky Office and, after being defrocked, exiled to the Solovetsky Monastery. It is worth recalling here that bishops were also removed from office in the 16th and 17th centuries, and on one occasion, even Patriarch Nikon. Without justifying Peter’s actions, we should nevertheless note that the last two years of the 17th century had made the tsar extremely bitter, as he faced opposition to his reforms. He was particularly deeply affected by the Streltsy uprising of 1698, which, as S. F. Platonov notes, caused him to lose his composure and was the reason for “his incredible bitterness toward his opponents”[121] . The disagreements between Peter and Patriarch Adrian over the tsar’s decrees on shaving beards and the introduction of German-style clothing may at first glance seem trivial, but in Peter’s eyes they appeared quite significant, for they revealed the church hierarchy’s rejection of the reforms. Pamphlets about the “Antichrist Tsar,” the speech by the monk Avraamy, who personally handed Peter his “notebooks” in which he criticized the tsar’s actions, and finally, Peter’s family circumstances—the taking of the monastic vows by Tsarina Eudoxia in June 1699 and her confinement to a convent—all of this once again strained the tsar’s relationship with the patriarch [122] .

On the night of October 15–16, 1700, Patriarch Adrian died. As early as October 25, the “envoy” Kurbatov wrote to the tsar, who was outside Moscow: “As for the election of the patriarch, Your Majesty, I believe it is best to wait for the right time, so that Your Majesty may see to everything yourself.” He then proposed establishing control over the patriarch’s “household treasury”: “Indeed, Sire, everything now appears weak and dysfunctional. Also, Sire… so that the estates of the bishops and monasteries may be inspected, and, after surveying the districts, everything may be placed under protection by appointing someone who is diligent in every endeavor for you, Sire, and issuing a special executive order for that purpose. Truly, Your Majesty, this investigation will yield a great deal for the treasury, which is now being squandered on the whims of the landowners.”[123] . From these excerpts, it is evident that Kurbatov was interested not so much in the appointment of a new patriarch as, first and foremost, in controlling and disposing of the patriarch’s estates, as well as the revenues from episcopal and monastic estates. It is possible that Kurbatov was well aware of Peter’s views and plans, but it seems to us that his letter also reflects the position of the secular administration, which was dissatisfied with the privileges enjoyed by church estates. As is well known, upon his return to Moscow on December 16, 1700, Tsar Peter issued a decree abolishing the main patriarchal administration, and on January 24, 1701, a decree establishing (or, more accurately, restoring) the Monastery Office, which was very much like a return to the situation of 1649–1677.[124]

In the 17th century, the election of the patriarch took place at a Council of Bishops of the Russian Church. As N. F. Kapterev established, the initiative to convene the Council came from the tsar. Peter did not take such an initiative, but instead appointed a locum tenens to the patriarchal throne, who led the Church for 20 years. There are two possible reasons why Peter did not wish to convene a Council to elect a new patriarch. First, he may not have had a candidate for the patriarchal throne; second, at that time (i.e., in early 1701), Peter apparently had not yet decided whether to retain the institution of the patriarchate or not. Regarding the first of these reasons, it can be said with certainty that Peter did not have a suitable candidate for the patriarchate. As is well known, after the death of Patriarch Joakim on March 16, 1690, Peter intended to elevate Metropolitan Markell of Pskov (1681–1690) to the patriarchal throne. Markell was distinguished by his education and knowledge of foreign languages, qualities that Peter particularly valued; moreover, Markell did not share the hostility toward foreigners and the West that was clearly evident in Patriarch Joachim’s will. However, Markell’s candidacy did not find favor with the tsarina’s inner circle, as his position in the dispute over the heresy of the “Bread-Worshippers” was not sufficiently clear, which gave rise to suspicions of “Latinism.” Adrian, Metropolitan of Kazan, became patriarch; he did not excel in scholarship nor stand out for his energy, but precisely for this reason he fit better into Empress Natalia’s inner circle. Markell, meanwhile, received the Metropolis of Kazan [125] .

S. F. Platonov offers the following observations on why Peter was in no great hurry to elect a patriarch: “There is no need to assume, as some do, that immediately after Adrian’s death Peter decided to abolish the patriarchate. It is more accurate to think that Peter simply did not know what to do about the election of a patriarch. Peter viewed the Great Russian clergy with some distrust, because he had seen time and again how strongly they opposed his reforms. Even the finest representatives of the ancient Russian hierarchy—who had managed to grasp the national character of Peter’s foreign policy and assisted him as best they could (Mitrofan of Voronezh, Tikhon of Kazan, Job of Novgorod)—were opposed to Peter’s cultural innovations. For Peter, choosing a patriarch from among the Great Russians meant risking the creation of a formidable enemy. The Little Russian clergy behaved differently: they themselves were influenced by Western culture and science and were sympathetic to Peter’s innovations. But it was impossible to appoint a Little Russian as patriarch because, during the time of Patriarch Joakim, Little Russian theologians had been discredited in the eyes of Moscow society as people harboring Latin heresies; they had even been subjected to persecution for this. Elevating a Little Russian to the patriarchal throne would therefore have led to widespread sedition. Under these circumstances, Peter decided to remain without a patriarch”[126] . These thoughts of Platonov seem to accurately characterize Peter’s position at the time. However, one should also bear in mind other reasons that prevented Peter from seeking a candidate for the patriarchate. This was a time when the tsar had to direct all his attention to military reform. After the defeat at Narva on November 20, 1700, he had to form new regiments. Added to this were setbacks in Poland. The tsar also devoted considerable effort to negotiations with Denmark and Poland regarding joint actions against Sweden [127] . It seems that the situation at the time simply did not allow Peter to attend to church affairs. Nevertheless, it is noteworthy that he entrusted the office of locum tenens of the patriarchal throne not to any of the senior members of the Great Russian clergy, but to the young Little Russian Stefan Yavorsky, from whom he had reason to expect, if not full support for his reforms, then at least loyalty to them. The office of locum tenens existed for two decades, and throughout that time Peter made no attempt whatsoever to resolve the issue of the highest ecclesiastical administration. The conflict with Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich, which occurred precisely at this time, would seem to have prompted the tsar to reach a final resolution of the church problem, since here Peter once again faced opposition from both the lower and higher clergy.

Without fear of being mistaken, one can confidently assume that the facts that came to light during the interrogations in the case of Tsarevich Alexei finally convinced Peter of the need to establish a new type of church governance: to remove the patriarch as the sole authority and establish a collegium—that is, a system which, in Peter’s view, was the best in principle and limited the arbitrary power of individuals in all spheres of governance. Furthermore, Peter decided to place this new collegial church administration entirely under state authority in order to preclude even the slightest degree of autonomy should it conflict with the interests of the state. Theophan Prokopovich was tasked with drafting “Spiritual Regulations” for the future supreme ecclesiastical administration, which were intended to provide a precise definition of it in the aforementioned sense.

During Peter’s lifetime, the Spiritual Collegium—later renamed the Most Holy Governing Synod—operated for only four years. As we shall see later, the collegium did not evolve during those years. When Peter died on January 28, 1725, the Synod was, in principle, no different from what it had been on January 25, 1721, the day of its founding. At the same time, the Synod of Peter’s era differed greatly from the Synod of the subsequent period. The organization of Peter’s Synod was very simple, and although it had some connection to the Senate, it was directly subordinate to the tsar’s authority. After Peter’s death, the Synod began to develop independently, expanding and taking shape as a governing body. But this aspect of its history was of little significance either then or later. What is significant, however, is the changing relationship between the Synod and the state authorities. The Office of the Chief Prosecutor gained influence; although it had been established during Peter’s reign, it initially played a modest role. And the fact that, a century later, the authority of the Chief Prosecutor had come to equal that of a minister, and the Chief Prosecutors themselves had become a buffer between the Synod’s bishops and the monarch, was hardly part of Peter’s original plan. This was already a distortion of Peter’s system. One might even say that the state church system itself, consciously created by Peter, also changed significantly. For two hundred years, the Holy Synod remained the bearer of the state church system, and it was effectively governed by a minister—the Chief Prosecutor. Therefore, anyone who criticizes Peter for his church reform must take into account its post-Peter evolution. Peter is responsible only for the creation of the state church system, which was expressed in the direct subordination of the ecclesiastical collegium—that is, the Holy Synod—to the head of state. All subsequent changes in the relationship between the Church and state authority within the framework of the state church system were the result of post-Peter developments.

Peter’s establishment of a state-controlled church raises the question of what role the tsar’s personal religious views played in this process and to what extent they were reflected in his ecclesiastical reforms.

b) Peter was not an atheist; on the contrary, he was undoubtedly a man of faith, but his religiosity did not take on the ecclesiastical character typical of Russian piety during the era of Muscovy. Peter was three years and eight months old when Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich died (January 30, 1676), so it is hardly appropriate to speak of any influence his father may have had on him. Peter’s mother, Tsarina Natalya Kirillovna, who grew up in the family of Boyar Matveev, was raised in the traditional Orthodox spirit. Matveev himself and his family had already been touched by Western influences—presumably to the same extent as the deeply devout Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. But these influences manifested themselves only in the outward aspects of daily life, whereas in matters pertaining to faith, worship, and rituals, everything remained as it had been. Matveev was a deeply devout man, a trait he passed on to his ward, the future mother of Tsar Peter. Tsarina Natalya spent her widowhood, in accordance with the custom of the time, in her palace. It was in this thoroughly Old Russian setting that Peter spent his childhood. At the age of five, he began learning to read and write. His first teacher, Zotov, taught him using an old-fashioned curriculum. After mastering the alphabet, Peter first read the Book of Hours, then the Psalter, the Gospel, and finally the Epistles. The boy studied eagerly and attentively and had a good memory. Proof of this can be found in the numerous quotations from Scripture scattered throughout the pages of Peter’s letters right up until the final years of his life [128] . The young Peter’s views were also influenced by his encounters with foreigners from the German Settlement in Moscow—his religiosity took on a Protestant hue. This is precisely why he distanced himself from the ritual piety of Muscovy, within whose atmosphere he had spent his childhood. It would be fundamentally incorrect, however, to attribute Peter’s religious views and his aversion to Muscovite piety solely to his interactions with foreigners. Peter possessed too independent a character and too keen an observational eye for that, which allowed him to realistically assess all the pros and cons of old Muscovite life. A significant factor in this was the fact that, from a young age, he had the opportunity to observe the clergy’s involvement in political events and to recognize the shortcomings of their education—an education that the tsar valued above all else and sought to advance with all his might. He understood that the outward manifestations of religiosity—which he usually called hypocrisy—were by no means an expression of genuine faith. It was precisely this that primarily alienated him from “Moscow Orthodoxy.” That is why, from the very beginning, he was unable to discern the positive aspects of Russian piety at that time or to grasp its metaphysical content. “He did not understand what the Church was,” as Y. F. Samarin aptly notes, “he simply did not see it; for its sphere is higher than the practical sphere, and therefore he acted as if it did not exist, denying it not maliciously, but rather out of ignorance”[129] . Peter did not deny the Church as an institution, but at the same time viewed it from a purely practical standpoint—as an institution that could bring the state a twofold benefit: first, in the realm of education, and second, through its moral influence on its flock. Based on this, Peter consistently sought to transform the Church into a part of the state administration, whose sole task was to influence the people. This was entirely consistent with his rational approach to religion, which reduced all religion and religious life to morality. This determined all the measures of ecclesiastical authority that he directed. Peter also viewed his duties as an autocrat—that is, as a man entrusted from above with the leadership of a nation of many millions—from this perspective. But he considered it his duty not only to govern but also to transform the life of this nation in the direction that the tsar deemed the only correct one. Peter believed that the Lord, the Creator of the world, guided his actions as tsar, and throughout his life he was conscious of his responsibility as an autocrat before the Creator. This sense of responsibility drove him to take decisive actions—sometimes even those deemed unacceptable from a Christian perspective—as is clearly evident in the example of his conflict with his son Alexei. In official documents (the Military Charter and the “Spiritual Regulations”), Peter referred to himself as a “Christian autocrat” and was always convinced of the divine origin of his authority [130] . Peter viewed all his actions and efforts to reorganize life in Russia precisely from the perspective of duty and responsibility before God. In his letters to clergy and secular figures, he wrote about this openly and without any ulterior motive, for insincerity was utterly foreign to him and abhorrent. “With God’s help” and with the faith “that everything lies not in human will but in His,” Peter set about every undertaking. Before a battle, he wrote: “Tomorrow we hope to see the enemy; may God’s mercy be with us,” and in a letter following a victory, we read: “The Lord God has graciously allowed this campaign to begin so successfully.” He ordered the launching of a ship “in the name of God.” After giving Menshikov the order to advance, he added: “May God preserve us.” Such expressions are frequently found in Peter’s letters [131] . After every undertaking that ended favorably, he invariably remarked: “The All-Merciful Lord did not show His wrath” [], or: “Praise be to the Most High,” or: “We have received this with great joy and give heartfelt thanks to the Lord God.” Regarding his health, Peter writes: “Today, thank God, I am feeling better”[]; “I congratulate you on the feast of the Lord’s Resurrection and His victory over death. A few days ago, I was struck by a dreadful fever, so I suffered throughout Holy Week, and on Easter night I attended the early Mass only out of consideration for others. Today, however, I am well”[]. After the victory at Poltava (1709), Peter ordered a thanksgiving service to be held, for “the Lord God has deigned to grant us victory.” After the Battle of Gangut, he wrote in one of his letters: “The Almighty Lord has deigned to honor Russia”[]. Upon the conclusion of the Treaty of Nystad, Peter said: “I earnestly desire that our entire people know clearly what the Lord God has done for us through the past war and the conclusion of peace. We must thank God with all our strength.” Peter’s correspondence contains many examples of this kind. Moreover, Peter sometimes acted in the spirit of venerable tradition: after the victories at Azov and Poltava, he founded monasteries as a sign of gratitude; he transported the relics of Saint Alexander Nevsky to St. Petersburg to consecrate the new city, and founded the Alexander Nevsky Monastery [132] . It is hardly fair to assume that Peter’s religiosity was imbued with the spirit of Western rationalism. He venerated icons and the Mother of God, as he confessed to Patriarch Adrian during the procession marking the execution of the streltsy; he reverently kissed the relics, willingly attended church services, read the Apostle, and sang in the church choir. His contemporaries were aware of his familiarity with the Bible, from which he aptly quoted both in conversation and in letters. Theophan Prokopovich notes that “as if a full armor (for Peter—Ed.) were the dogmas he had studied from the Holy Scriptures, especially the Epistle of Paul, which he had firmly committed to memory.” The same Theophan states that Peter “not only was not ashamed to listen to and participate in theological and other discussions—unlike what others were accustomed to doing—but also eagerly sought to instruct many who were in doubt regarding their conscience”[133] . Peter’s inclination to participate in discussions on religious topics is attested to in “Objections to ‘The Stone of Faith,’” which recounts that Peter took part in a debate with Talitsky, whom he “quickly defeated with the clear words of Christ and led to repentance”[134] . Typical of Peter are the ethical and religious reflections found in his notes “On the Beatitudes Against Hypocrites and Self-Righteous People.” On one side of the page, he quotes the text of the commandments, and on the other, he makes handwritten notes, listing various sins and adding his own reflections on the matter. In conclusion, he writes: “The question: ‘Having described all the sins against the commandments, I find only one—the sin of hypocrisy and self-righteousness—that is not found among the others described above, which is very surprising—why is that? Answer: “Because the commandments are diverse and the transgressions are diverse—one against each; but this sin encompasses all those described above… Against the first commandment, the sin is atheism, which is the foundation of the hypocrites, for their first act is to recount visions, commands from God, and miracles—all of which are fabricated and never happened; and when they themselves have invented these things, they already know that it was not God who did them, but they—so what faith is there in them? And when there is no such faith, they are true atheists.” Regarding the second commandment, Peter writes: “Against the second—those who do not have the fear of God. There is no need to explain this further, for when they lie about God, what fear of God can possibly remain?” Regarding the fourth commandment, he observes and at the same time asks: “Against the fourth. It may be that some honor their natural fathers (but this is by chance), but how do they honor the pastors, who are appointed by God as second only to natural fathers, when their primary skill lies in deceiving them to the utmost, and they strive even more to bring misfortune upon their subordinates by slandering them before their superiors, and upon their superiors by spreading blasphemous words about them among the people, inciting them to rebellion, as the many heads on stakes testify”[135] .

In this regard, it should be noted that, despite his critical attitude toward the clergy, Peter always expressed his respect for Patriarch Adrian. Thus, he always considered it his duty to visit the patriarch immediately upon returning from abroad or from the battlefield. During one such visit, Peter said to the patriarch in conversation: “Yet the devil’s great malice and his schemes against people—so that sound doctrine may not take root anywhere—work in every way to hinder it. May the Lord God grant people saving help in all things!”[136] And this statement also attests to the young Peter’s very moderate rationalism. Peter concludes the above reflections on the commandments with the following words: “Finally, Christ the Savior did not command His apostles to fear anything, but He did command this very thing: ‘Beware,’ He said, ‘of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.’”[137] . It was precisely this sin of hypocrisy that Peter accused the monks of, citing examples from monastic life of his time, which at that time was rife with negative phenomena. As we shall see later, Peter’s views on monasticism were reflected in his work “Declaration on Monasticism” (1724), in which he leveled serious accusations against the monastic community of his time [138] . In one entry (circa 1723), possibly dating back to the time of his conversations with Theophan and the writing of “A Declaration on Monasticism,” we read that people of all social classes can attain salvation, and not just monks. Such was Peter’s attitude toward the foundations of Christian ethics [139] . Peter attached the greatest importance in religion to its ethical content. Additionally, we will cite another note from Peter addressed to the Holy Synod. It points out the need to “compile a book explaining what is God’s unalterable law, what are the counsels, what are the traditions of the Fathers, what are matters of secondary importance, what is done solely for the sake of order and ritual, what is unalterable, and what has changed over time and according to circumstances, so that people may know which provisions to observe. Regarding the first category, it seems to me that it should be written simply enough for even a villager to understand, or in two versions: one for villagers—simple—and another for city dwellers—more elegant for the pleasure of the listeners… in which the teachings—namely, that there is a straight path to salvation—would be explained, and especially faith, hope, and love (for they know very little about the first and the last, and what they do know is not entirely correct, while they have never even heard of the middle one), since they place all their hope in church singing, fasting, bowing, and other such things, as well as the architecture of churches, candles, and the palm of the hand. As for the Passion of Christ, they speak of it only in relation to original sin, and they believe that salvation is attained through one’s own deeds, as written above”[140] . In these thoughts of Peter, which testify to the fact that he clearly understood the state of the faith at that time, a certain Protestant tinge can be sensed.

The tsar’s words were fully consistent with his practical ethics and his view of the clergy’s duties toward their flock, which he considered from the perspective of state interests. While the Moscow tsars, in accordance with the “liturgical piety” of the time, were content with the clergy simply conducting worship services, Peter was by no means inclined to limit the clergy’s duties and activities to this sphere. Each social class was assigned its own task in the work of transforming the state; the clergy also had one, namely, to raise the people to be good citizens who were conscious of their duty to the state. Not only in connection with the implementation of his reforms, but in general, Peter recognized the necessity of religion for moral education; moreover, he was indifferent to which god the clergy served and which god the citizens worshiped. For Peter, the very fact of faith was important, since atheism, in his view, represented a condition that threatened the welfare of the state. It is worth recalling here his words on freedom of conscience, which appear as early as one of his decrees of 1702 [141] ; these words revealed Peter’s tolerance toward all Christian denominations, which was the complete opposite of traditional views. Peter held this position also with regard to schismatics, and to some extent even toward non-Christian religions [142] .

V. S. Solovyov once remarked that Peter’s reforms resulted in the creation of a “universal Christian culture” in Russia [143] . It should be added that although Peter sought to integrate Russia into European culture—which at the turn of the 17th century was unquestionably Christian—he was nevertheless firmly convinced of the need to preserve the Orthodox faith and the primacy of the Orthodox Church, since these were closely linked to national sentiments and considerations of the state’s welfare. For this reason, the ban on the propagation of foreign Christian denominations remained in force under Peter. He did not sympathize with plans to unite the Orthodox Church with the Roman Catholic Church, although he left the final decision on the matter to the church hierarchy [144] . The prohibition on propaganda for other faiths stemmed from Peter’s recognition of the importance of every existing religion, with its moral influence on believers, which was beneficial to the state. This also explains many of the articles in the “Spiritual Regulations,” which emphasize the necessity of reverent worship, the registration of those who profess a faith, the conversion of Old Believers, and so on.

When discussing Peter’s personal faith and his views on the Church’s mission, one cannot overlook a fact that has puzzled both his descendants and historians. This refers to the so-called “most frivolous council.” S. F. Platonov, not wishing to justify the tsar, emphasized that Peter “both during those years of youthful restlessness and later on harbored a love for feasts, drunken revelry, crude jokes, and masquerade-style buffoonery.” “The council,” S. F. Platonov further notes, “may have taken the form of a crude parody, first of the ‘Catholic’ hierarchy, and then, as enthusiasm for the scheme grew, of the Orthodox episcopate”[145] . These mockeries of the church hierarchy can be attributed to the influence of Protestants from the German Settlement, which, according to Platonov himself, was so great that it is even permissible to speak of Peter’s upbringing in the spirit of “Protestant culture” (!)[146] Indeed, it cannot be denied that the ritual of the “most jesting council” was blasphemous: it mocked the church rites and religious customs of the time. It should be noted, however, that the sarcasm was not directed specifically at the substance of the Christian faith, but only at those external aspects that were absent among Protestants: the hierarchy, religious processions, and lavish vestments. Since the “Council” began by mocking the Catholic hierarchy, it is clear that the influence originated from the Protestant German settlement. Later, the “Council” turned to blasphemous mockery of the patriarchs, Orthodox rites, and the Russian clergy. The “Most Witty Council” emerged in the late 1690s—that is, precisely at the time when Peter clearly sensed that his reforms were being rejected both by the church hierarchy and by Patriarch Adrian personally. This was an unsuccessful attempt to undermine the dignity of the patriarchal office in the eyes of the people and thereby, perhaps, to demonstrate the superfluity of the patriarchate itself. E. E. Golubinsky suggests that through the “utterly farcical council,” Peter “expressed in a crude, pre-Petrine manner (Golubinsky’s expression, meaning the same as ‘in the old Muscovite style’) his lack of respect for the clergy, who had done a very poor job of providing moral education to the people”[147] . Golubinsky points out that even in Muscovite Russia, the townspeople did not hold their clergy in particularly high regard. There is a great deal of truth in this observation. The only difference is that in the Muscovite state, such mockery came from individuals and was directed at specific members of the clergy. Under Peter, however, this “amusement” took place openly and was directed against the liturgy—that is, the aspect of the faith that was particularly cherished by Russians in the late 17th and early 18th centuries and which had caused millions to break away into schism. Despite all his talents, Peter was a poor psychologist. The devout people took the “council’s” antics—as well as all the changes in church administration that placed the Church under the state’s control—much more seriously than Peter’s Spiritual Collegium did. That is why the people stubbornly regarded Peter as the Antichrist. E. Shmurlo compares Peter’s satire on the clergy to Voltaire’s satirical works and believes that in both cases the weapon was a double-edged sword: “Peter, who mocked the dignity of the patriarch, failed to notice the irreparable harm he was inflicting on the Church, how deeply he had offended the people’s religion, and what difficulties this would cause him in connection with his own administrative affairs”[148] .

From all that has been said, the following conclusions can be drawn: Peter was a man of faith, but he either did not understand or underestimated the metaphysical aspect of Orthodoxy. In religion, he valued only its ethical content and its moral influence on society—he considered this aspect of religion important for the public life of the people. Peter understood the Russian people’s intrinsic connection to Orthodoxy and the significance of Orthodoxy for national and, consequently, state identity. Therefore, he viewed the Church as an institution absolutely necessary for the interests of the state, although he assigned it only the role of moral educator of the people, especially in the struggle against superstition, idolatry, and blasphemy, which corrupt the national character and thereby harm the interests of the state. This explains all of Peter’s efforts to direct the activities of the Church and the clergy precisely along these lines, placing them under the supervision and control of the state. Thus, in the course of Peter’s reforms, a state-controlled church system took shape.

§ 2. The Church under Stefan Yavorsky, Locum Tenens of the Patriarchal See

a) With the death of Patriarch Adrian on October 16, 1700, patriarchal governance of the Russian Church came to an end. In the Muscovite state, the patriarch was elected at the tsar’s discretion [149] . If the young Peter had expressed any preferences regarding the candidacy of the new patriarch, this would have been nothing new for Moscow’s ecclesiastical circles, for it would have been merely a continuation of the traditional relationship between the state and the Church. But Peter was with the army near Narva at that time, and his entire attention was absorbed by the war. It is therefore quite understandable that the young tsar had neither the time nor the opportunity to rush to Moscow to take part in such an important matter as the election of the head of the Church. It can be safely assumed that at that time Peter did not yet have any definite plans for significant reforms in any area of the highest ecclesiastical administration. Thus, at that moment, Peter was not inclined to engage in the search for a candidate for the patriarchate. On December 16, 1700, a decree was issued appointing Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky of Ryazan as “exarch, custodian, and administrator” of the patriarchal see. The same decree also contained instructions regarding the organization of the highest ecclesiastical administration. At the same time, certain privileges of the hierarchy in matters of ecclesiastical jurisdiction were curtailed [150] . Strictly speaking, this decree marked the beginning of a new period in relations between the Church and the state in Russia, which is commonly referred to as the Synodal Period, since the establishment of the Spiritual Collegium was not the beginning but the culmination of Peter’s measures regarding the Russian Church. A month later, on January 24, 1701, Peter issued another decree restoring the Monastic Office, which had been abolished through the efforts of Patriarch Joakim in 1677. This decree further restricted the rights of the locum tenens and diocesan bishops regarding patriarchal, episcopal, and monastic estates. “The affairs of the Most Holy Patriarch’s household, as well as those of the bishops’ and monasteries’ estates, —the decree stated—shall be overseen by Boyar Ivan Alekseevich Musin-Pushkin, and assisting him in these matters shall be Deacon Efim Zotov, who shall reside at the Patriarch’s court in the chambers where the Patriarch’s Office was located, and shall conduct business through the Monastic Office; and the Office of the Grand Palace was not to oversee monastic affairs, and previous cases were to be transferred to that office.” However, at the end of the year, in a decree dated November 7, 1701, Peter made concessions, perhaps at the suggestion of Stefan Yavorsky. He ordered that priests, monks, and deacons, in the event of a complaint filed against them by laypeople, be held accountable before the patriarchal court, and that they be summoned to testify only before the Moscow civil court. However, the clergy was still required to file its own legal complaints against laypeople with the civil courts [151] . Such were the laws upon which church administration and the activities of the locum tenens were based.

Stefan Yavorsky, appointed locum tenens, was a newcomer and an outsider to Moscow’s ecclesiastical circles. He belonged to a group of immigrants from Little Russia, who were not particularly well-regarded in Moscow and whose Orthodoxy was highly questionable. It could be said that Stefan’s biography (he was only 42 years old at the time) gave rise to such doubts. His secular name was Semen Ivanovich Yavorsky. He was born in 1658 in the small town of Yavor or Yavorov into a family of minor nobility. There are towns named Yavorov in both Galicia and Volhynia, but Stefan’s biographers have been unable to determine which of them is associated with the patriarchal locum tenens. Stefan’s father moved to the village of Krasilovka near Nezhin in his early youth to avoid persecution by the Uniates. Around 1673, Stefan enrolled at the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, where he studied until 1684. There, he caught the attention of his teacher, Hieromonk Varlaam Yasinsky, who later became the archimandrite of the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra (1684–1690) and subsequently the Metropolitan of Kyiv (1690–1707). It was likely Varlaam who convinced Stefan not to be content with the education he had received at the Mohyla Academy, but to go abroad to further his studies at one of the Jesuit colleges, which in those days were renowned for their excellent teaching methods. Varlaam himself had been a student at such a college and was therefore better able than anyone else to tell the young Yavorsky about them. In the years that followed, Yavorsky studied philosophy in Lviv and Lublin, and then theology in Vilnius and Poznań. To enroll in a Jesuit school, Yavorsky, like his contemporaries, had to convert to the Union or Catholicism and was given the name Simeon-Stanisław. In southwestern Russia, this was a common practice. However, the Jesuit teachers had little faith that the change of religion was based on conviction; in many cases, upon graduating from the college, the students returned to Orthodoxy. As for Yavorsky, his Catholic education did not leave him unscathed. Upon returning to Kyiv in 1689, he reverted to Orthodoxy, but Roman Catholic influence remained present in his theological views throughout his life, manifesting itself particularly strongly in his sharp rejection of Protestantism, which later made Yavorsky an opponent of Theophan Prokopovich. These facts from Yavorsky’s life later served as a pretext for his enemies to call him a “Papist.” In Kyiv, Stefan once again met Varlaam Yasinsky, who had not changed his favorable attitude toward him. It is highly likely that it was Varlaam who advised Stefan to take monastic vows, considering monastic life to be the best path in life and the most conducive to a scholarly career. In 1690, Yasinsky became Metropolitan of Kyiv. He did not forget Yavorsky, who had meanwhile entered the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra under the name Stefan, and appointed him to the Kyiv Collegium, first as a teacher of rhetoric and poetics, then, in 1691, as prefect and professor of philosophy, and later as professor of theology. During those years, Yavorsky met Theophan Prokopovich, who was studying at the Kyiv Academy. Stefan became a renowned preacher and eventually became the abbot of the St. Nicholas-Pustyn Monastery, which at that time was still located outside Kyiv.

When Metropolitan Varlaam sent an envoy to Patriarch Adrian in January 1700 to discuss matters concerning the Kyiv Metropolis, Hegumen Stefan Yavorsky was among those accompanying him. Stefan could hardly have imagined that, by leaving Kyiv, he was only just beginning his career, embarking on a path that would elevate him to dizzying heights, yet would also prove so fraught with difficulties. He had been in Moscow for only a few weeks when, thanks to an unexpected incident, the young tsar took notice of him. It so happened that just at that time one of the tsar’s closest associates, Boyar Shein, had died, and Peter wished for a fitting eulogy to be delivered; Hegumen Stefan Yavorsky of the Metropolitan’s legation was recommended to him. Peter was so impressed by the eulogy delivered by Stefan—as well as by the orator himself—that within a week or two he appealed to Patriarch Adrian, requesting that Stefan be appointed to one of the episcopal sees closer to Moscow. However, Yavorsky had no intention whatsoever of becoming a bishop, as can be inferred from the patriarch’s letter to the tsar dated March 17, 1700; although in the end, Stefan had to submit to Peter’s will and was consecrated as Metropolitan of Ryazan and Murom. It is not entirely clear why Stephen resisted accepting the episcopal office. Later, he himself explained his hesitation to the tsar by stating that, during an illness, he had vowed to take the schema and spend the rest of his life in a monastery, and he did not wish to break that vow. It seems more reasonable to assume that the hesitation and uncertainty characteristic of Stephen—even later, when he became the head of the Russian Church—stemmed from his fickleness and weak character. Had Stephen been more resolute and energetic, had he been able to speak frankly and openly with Peter—who valued these qualities—then perhaps Peter’s actions in ecclesiastical matters would have been different, and Stephen would have become a true ally of the tsar. But it was precisely the lack of these qualities that prevented Stephen from drawing closer to Peter; moreover, it made him a secret opponent of the tsar. Their relationship deteriorated with each passing year, which had a negative impact on the entire course of ecclesiastical affairs [152] .

Shortly after Yavorsky’s appointment as metropolitan, the case of Grigory Talitsky arose; he was the author of “notebooks” whose content was similar to that of Old Believer writings. According to a witness, these “notebooks” contained various inappropriate statements about the tsar—statements that were unfit even to be heard. Talitsky did indeed call Peter the Antichrist and Moscow “Babylon.” He managed to write two “notebooks”: 1) “On the Coming of the Antichrist into the World and on the Years of Creation from the Beginning of the World to the End of the World” and 2) “The Gates.” During interrogation, the arrested Talitsky admitted that he had written “treasonous” words against the tsar, in which he “forbade the people from listening to Peter and paying taxes.” He also said that he had “distributed his ‘notebooks’ to the people for free.” During the interrogation, it emerged that Bishop Ignatius of Tambov, who was in Moscow at the time, favored Talitsky and took pleasure in reading his “notebooks.” Prince Romodanovsky, head of the Preobrazhensky Office, tortured Talitsky, while Stefan was tasked with instructing him and forcing him to repent of his “thievery.” Talitsky confessed to everything and was burned at the stake. In order to refute the rumors circulating among the people about the appearance of the Antichrist, Stefan wrote a treatise some time later, which was published in 1703 under the title “Signs of the Coming of the Antichrist and the End of the World”[153] . Stefan’s participation in the investigation and Talitsky’s swift confession strengthened the tsar’s sympathy for Yavorsky, and on December 16, 1700, Stefan was appointed locum tenens of the patriarchal throne.

b) As already mentioned, Stefan’s authority in the realm of church administration was less than that of the patriarch. But even here, at every turn—and increasingly so over time—he felt the interference of state authorities. His duties as locum tenens included overseeing the filling of episcopal sees. During his tenure as locum tenens, many sees were filled by Little Russians—first, because Stephen knew how highly Peter valued their scholarship, and second, because he himself, from personal experience, was aware of the difference between Great Russian and Little Russian bishops [154] . Peter also appointed Stefan as protector of the Moscow Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy, where he introduced Latin as a subject and enlisted scholars from Kyiv to teach. Among them was Theophylact Lopatinsky, who later became an archbishop; he held the post of prefect (1706–1722) and was one of Stephen’s most sincere admirers and supporters.

The decrees of December 16, 1700, abolishing patriarchal administration and restoring the Monastic Office (January 24, 1701) narrowed Stephen’s sphere of activity both in the Ryazan Diocese and in the former Patriarchal Region, which was subordinate to him as locum tenens. This was all the more noticeable because Boyar I. A. Musin-Pushkin, who headed the Monastery Office, frequently interfered in matters of ecclesiastical administration that fell under the locum tenens’s authority. Peter himself paid little attention to upholding the division of powers he had established, issuing decrees in his own name through the Monastic Office regarding confession, church attendance on feast days, the instruction of children by clergy, the registration of those who did not attend confession, and the ordination of bishops to fill vacancies [155] . The locum tenens’ dependence on state authority became particularly evident after the establishment of the Senate as the supreme governing body. The decree on the Senate dated March 2, 1711, gives an idea of the extensive powers that Peter granted it: “We command all those who ought to be informed of this, both ecclesiastical and secular… that We, due to Our constant absences during these wars, have established the Governing Senate, to which everyone shall be obedient and follow its decrees just as they would obey Us personally, under severe punishment or even death, depending on the offense”[156] . It was precisely the ambiguity in the decree—regarding in what matters and how the clergy was required to submit to the Senate—that gave the latter the opportunity to interfere in those matters of the Church which, in its opinion, fell within its jurisdiction. A careful examination of the facts regarding the Senate’s interference in the administration of the Church reveals how broadly it interpreted its powers, without taking into account the decree of December 16, 1700, which defined the scope of matters subject to the special administration of the locum tenens. From then on, the resolution of purely ecclesiastical matters depended not only on the decrees of the tsar himself—as had often been the case even under the patriarchs—but also on a purely administrative body, a practice that was entirely foreign to Muscovy. During the period of the Senate’s regency, it issued numerous decrees attesting to changes in the structure of the highest ecclesiastical administration and its subordination to the Senate. It is characteristic that these decrees did not concern any borderline issues affecting both the state and the church, but primarily matters of the spiritual care of the faithful. For example, the question of candidates for priestly positions—that is, a purely ecclesiastical matter—was considered by the Holy Synod jointly with the Senate. In 1715, the Senate ordered the elevation of certain monks to the rank of archimandrite, directing that the ceremony take place at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery. The construction of churches and the distribution of holy oil also took place in accordance with Senate decrees. The Kiev-Pechersk Lavra was declared a stauropegia—again by a Senate decree. In 1716, as a supplement to the decree restoring the Monastic Office, a new decree was issued—mandating annual confession and the compilation of lists of those (suspected of belonging to a schism) who evaded it. These lists were to be delivered by parish elders not only to the bishops but also to the governors, and the latter were authorized to punish those who failed to appear for confession. The Senate, for its part, introduced penalties for idle talk in church during divine services [157] . The Senate discussed matters of faith and measures against apostasy and schism, and it also issued the corresponding decrees. As will be discussed below, the problem of schism was apparently considered to be equally a matter for the church and the state—a view dating back to the decree of 1685. The decree of February 8, 1716, imposed a double poll tax on Old Believers, and it already ordered that lists of them be compiled [158] . The Senate also focused its attention on the spread of the faith. It issued decrees regarding the conversion of Tatars and other non-Russians to Orthodoxy, granting tax reductions to the newly baptized and allocating special funds to the Metropolitan of Kazan to support those ready to be baptized, as well as for the construction and furnishing of churches. At the same time, in those same decrees, the Senate prohibited the baptism of members of other faiths and foreigners [159] . In the sphere of former ecclesiastical administration, which had been transferred to the jurisdiction of the Monastic Office in 1701, the Senate’s decrees were not unusual, since the Monastic Office itself was a secular institution. Previously, before the Senate was established, the Monastery Office had been an independent body subject only to the tsar’s decrees.

M. Gorchakov, who has studied the history of the Monastic Office, notes that after its restoration to its former form, “the main focus of the revived office was on the transfer of church estates and revenues to state administration… In terms of its status among other state institutions, Peter the Great’s Monastic Office of 1701 was the highest, central institution for all of Russia in a specific department, dedicated in the overall sum of its activities to Peter’s reform goals regarding the Church.” The activities of the Monastic Office, established in 1701 and in existence until the mid-1720s, coincided precisely with the period of the locum tenens. It was abolished on August 17, 1720, with the introduction of the collegia, to whose jurisdiction the affairs of the Monastic Office were transferred [160] . The transfer of administration of church estates to the Monastic Office caused extreme discontent among the clergy. Nothing is known of any particularly vigorous objections on the part of Stefan Yavorsky. The protest by Isaiah, Metropolitan of Nizhny Novgorod (1699–1708), against the activities of the clerks of the Monastic Office cost him his see by order of Peter: in 1708, Isaiah was exiled to the Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery. The Monastic Office began its work by determining the size of the patriarchal, episcopal, and monastic estates and treasuries. The results were recorded, in accordance with yet another decree by Peter, in the census registers of 1701. For that year , the Monastery Office had 137,823 peasant households under its jurisdiction (the church estates of the Pskov and Astrakhan dioceses and Siberia were not included in this number, as they fell outside the jurisdiction of the Monastery Office)[161] . Immediately, however, the question arose regarding the maintenance of episcopal sees and monasteries. By decree of December 30, 1701, a ration of 10 rubles and 10 quarters of bread was established for monks, both superiors and subordinates. Due to military expenditures, this was cut in half by a decree of 1705 and the Table of 1710, remaining at that level until the 1724 staffing regulations. Funds for the bishops’ food, clothing, household, and other expenses were allocated in various ways; The Table of 1710 introduced further changes to these provisions. For example, the Archbishop of Rostov was granted an allowance of 1,000 rubles.[162]

]Having assumed control of church estates, the Monastic Office gradually lost part of them. By decree of Peter, revenues from certain monastic estates were directed toward the maintenance of various departments, such as the Naval Department, the Preobrazhensky Office, and all manner of factories. Another portion of the monastic estates was transferred “to the sovereign.” In addition, Peter was in the habit of very generously bestowing former church estates upon his courtiers. The Monastic Office leased out some of the lands to generate greater profits—provided, of course, that the rent exceeded the income these lands yielded under the Office’s own management. It was not uncommon for the Church to reclaim its own lands in exchange for a specified rent. This method of generating revenue emerged shortly after the establishment of the Monastic Office, and with the issuance of the 1710 Table, it became commonplace, as M. Gorchakov notes [163] . In August 1720, the Monastic Office was abolished. Fluctuations in government policy indicate that its intention to take control of church estates had not yet fully matured. Peter was interested not so much in the legal aspect of the matter (who owned or managed a monastic estate) as in the practical one. The old Muscovite rule remained in full force: “so that the treasury would suffer no loss.” If the estates yielded greater profits under the management of their former owners, the matter was resolved by mutual agreement.

After the Senate was established, the Monastic Office came under its authority. Consequently, the Office’s level of responsibility diminished, and it lost its freedom of action. Documentary evidence shows that the Senate issued instructions to the Monastic Office and received reports from it. Since, according to Peter’s decree, the Senate was the highest supervisory body, the Monastic Office was required to submit monthly, quarterly, and annual reports to it on revenues from church estates, as well as on expenditures and other matters. The Senate, for its part, determined the budgets of the monasteries and the annual stipends for the bishops without the Monastery Office’s knowledge. There are Senate decrees regulating the distribution of church revenues among dioceses; for example, a decree on the allocation of funds for hospitals and wounded soldiers [164] .

Relations between the Church and the Senate are characterized by the latter’s decree of January 22, 1716, which was brought to the attention of all bishops. By this decree, they were bound under oath to: 1) leave their dioceses only as a last resort; 2) to treat opponents of the Church with leniency; 3) not to build more churches than absolutely necessary; 4) to appoint clergy only as needed; 5) to tour their dioceses at least once every two or three years and not to interfere in secular affairs [165] . Thus, the highest ecclesiastical administration was forced to tolerate constant interference in its affairs—not so much from the tsar himself as from secular state institutions. This interference eventually became commonplace, paving the way for the Church’s position, which, following the publication of the “Spiritual Regulations” and the establishment of the Holy Synod, gained a legal basis [166] .

c) Throughout Stefan Yavorsky’s entire tenure as locum tenens of the Russian Church, not a single bold and open word was spoken in defense of its interests or against the tsar’s interference and control. The reasons for this lay, first, in the locum tenens’ indecisiveness; he disliked open conflict and preferred covert opposition, a trait he shared with his predecessor, Patriarch Adrian; second, the personal relationship between the tsar and Stephen never reached the level of mutual understanding that existed, for example, between Peter and Theophanes Prokopovich. Furthermore, Stephen was to some extent implicated in the affair of Tsarevich Alexei, and this also contributed to the cooling of relations between him and Peter. Changes in their relationship can easily be traced through the locum tenens’s sermons. From the content—or, rather, from the vague allusions and unspoken implications of this cautious preacher—it is clear how the estrangement grew and what ecclesiastical and political situation developed as a result. Stefan’s early sermons, dedicated to Peter’s military successes—the capture of the Shlisselburg Fortress, the founding of St. Petersburg, and the victory at Poltava—are purely panegyric in nature, though they cannot be suspected of insincerity. But this attitude toward Peter and his affairs gradually changed. Over time, dissatisfaction with his position began to weigh heavily on Stefan, although it must be acknowledged that he was neither arrogant nor a careerist, nor a “prince of the Church”—qualities for which his contemporaries, Theophan Prokopovich and Theodosius Yanovsky, were criticized. In 1706, Stefan traveled to Kyiv, from where he returned to Moscow with great reluctance. When Metropolitan Varlaam of Kyiv died in 1707, Stefan appealed to the tsar to relieve him of his duties as locum tenens and appoint him metropolitan of Kyiv, but Peter refused. In a sermon delivered on November 13, 1708, Stefan made certain remarks from which one could infer that he did not approve of the economic activities of the Monastic Office or the secular administration of church estates. The mention of Belshazzar’s feast and the tsar drinking wine from church vessels could also be understood as an allusion to the “most absurd council.” Stephen voiced his sharp condemnation of the tsar’s church policy in the sermon “On Observing God’s Commandments,” delivered on the feast day of Saint Alexius, the Man of God, on March 17, 1712. This sermon, of course, could not have pleased Peter. In it, Stephen criticized, first and foremost, the creation of the institution of the so-called “fiscals,” who served as secular authorities overseeing matters of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. This was the first act of serious and open resistance to the government, carried out publicly before the congregation gathered in the church. Stephen also allowed himself to make extremely harsh remarks regarding the internal state of the country, which was “tossed about in bloody storms.” “O fierce sea, O lawless sea of mankind! Why do you break, crush, and ravage the shores? The shore is God’s law; the shore is to commit no adultery, to covet not your neighbor’s wife, to forsake not your own wife; the shore is to observe piety, fasting, and above all Lent; the shore is to venerate the icons.” This was already a clear allusion to the circumstances of the tsar’s family life, to his divorce from Tsarina Eudoxia and his affair with his future wife, Skavronskaya, as well as to the tsar’s failure to observe the fasts prescribed by the Orthodox Church. That Peter understood this allusion is evident from his marginal notes on the text of the sermon, which they hastened to present to him: “First privately, then in the presence of witnesses”—that is, Stephen should have first spoken with the tsar face to face, rather than reprimanding him immediately in public and in the church. However, this sermon also contained hints of another kind, referring to Peter’s relationship with his unloved son Alexei. The locum tenens concluded his sermon with a prayer to Saint Alexius, a man of God, in which Stephen’s sympathy for the crown prince was clearly expressed—a prince who openly disapproved of his father’s innovations and was devoted to the old Moscow way of life, to everything that Peter was breaking and destroying. In conclusion to his sermon, Stefan exclaims: “We pray, therefore, O Holy One of God! Cover your namesake, our only hope; cover him under the shelter of your wings, like a beloved fledgling, like the apple of your eye; preserve him unharmed from all evil!” Although this was spoken even before the Tsarevich’s open break with Peter, the contrast between father and son is all too clear, and Stefan’s sympathy for Alexei and his views, along with his criticism of Peter, is all too evident. It was precisely for this reason that Stefan was forbidden to deliver sermons for three years. From that moment on, the estrangement between Peter and Stefan continued to grow. Meanwhile, the Senate summoned the locum tenens to its sessions, as if he were subordinate to the Senate, and demanded a report from him. Realizing the precariousness of his position, Stefan sent Peter a petition asking to be relieved of his post as locum tenens (March 21, 1712). Peter hastened to reassure Stephen and rejected his request, instructing him to continue leading the Church. However, it was clear that it was no longer possible to restore their former relationship [167] . Stefan’s anxieties had not yet fully subsided when new ones arose, bringing him troubles, humiliation, and renewed discontent on the part of the tsar. This was the case of the physician Tveritinov, during which the full extent of the locum tenens’ lack of autonomy in spiritual matters became apparent—a realm in which, based on previous royal decrees, he would seem to have been able to act at his own discretion and with full responsibility.

The arrival of a large number of Protestants in Moscow and the measures Peter took to protect them could not fail to have consequences. Protestant ideas began to spread among the Russian people as well. One of the adherents of Protestantism was the physician Dmitry Tveritinov, who had studied under doctors from the German Quarter [168] . Tveritinov was an intelligent man with wide-ranging interests, inclined toward criticism and rationalism. Such people already existed in the Muscovite state—one need only recall Matvey Bashkin or Feodosia Kos. Tveritinov’s views first came to light through the words of Ivashka Maximov, a student at the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy. He reported that Tveritinov criticized the teachings of the Orthodox Church, did not recognize sacred tradition, the Church and its hierarchy, or the veneration of the Mother of God, angels, and holy saints. Furthermore, Tveritinov allegedly denied the sacraments of Holy Baptism and the Holy Eucharist, as well as, of course, church rites, the veneration of icons, the observance of fasts, and monasticism. However, Tveritinov cannot be considered a proponent of liberal Protestantism, since some of his views were entirely incompatible with the latter. For instance, he did not agree with the Protestant thesis that a person is justified by faith alone; on the contrary, Tveritinov asserted with absolute certainty that personal merit and good deeds are required for a person’s salvation. He studied the Bible with great zeal, making excerpts from it to support his views, which he recorded in his “notebooks,” primarily for the purpose of refuting the teachings of the Protestant Church. These “notebooks,” accompanied by a Russian translation of Luther’s *Catechism*, circulated among Tveritinov’s acquaintances, thereby spreading his religious ideas, which found admirers and supporters not only in Moscow but also in the provinces. This continued for 10 years, and it was not until 1713 that the case came to light. The investigation was conducted by the Preobrazhensky Office and ecclesiastical judges appointed by Stephen. It revealed Tveritinov’s apostasy, as well as the widespread popularity of his views among the population. Nevertheless, Peter was opposed to the public condemnation and punishment of Tveritinov and his followers, demanding that Stefan limit himself to imposing penance on the guilty parties. But Stefan could not accept such an outcome. Meanwhile, Tveritinov managed to flee from Moscow to St. Petersburg, where he found defenders among the senators. Now the Senate itself took charge of the case. On June 14, 1714, it recognized Tveritinov as Orthodox and ordered Stefan to solemnly proclaim the Orthodoxy of Tveritinov and his supporters. Stefan had no intention of complying with the Senate’s order and, on October 28 of that same year, submitted a detailed report on the matter to Peter; he explained in what ways Tveritinov had deviated from the Orthodox faith and stated that he considered it impossible for himself to obey the Senate’s decree. The Tsar did not approve of Stefan’s disobedience, nor of his attacks on foreign Protestants, whose assistance the Tsar valued so highly. The situation took a turn that was highly unfavorable for the locum tenens. On December 14, a Senate decree was issued summoning Stefan to St. Petersburg, not as a representative of the Russian Church, but as a witness in the Tveritinov case. Thus, a situation arose in which Stefan went from being the accuser to the accused, which he sensed immediately after the hearings began. Later, in a letter to Peter, Stefan described how he was humiliated in the Senate and how the senators, “with great shame and regret,” expelled him from the “courtroom.” The Senate, however, failed to fully carry out its intentions in this matter, because some of Tveritinov’s followers proved to be more stubborn than their teacher. For example, Foma Ivanov, who had been sent to the Chudov Monastery for penance, split several icons there with an axe, as a result of which he was sentenced to be burned at the stake as an unrepentant heretic (1714). Others, after completing their penance, were sent to various monasteries. Tveritinov himself, having shown proper repentance, was released after some time, in 1718. Having repented, he asked the Holy Synod for a pardon. In 1723, the Synod lifted his excommunication and readmitted him to the Church. Stefan’s well-known work, *The Stone of Faith*, directed against Protestantism in general and its spread in Russia in particular [169] , was written in part under the influence of the Tveritinov case.

d) The disagreements between Peter and his son, Tsarevich Alexei, which began as a purely family feud, very quickly turned into a political conflict.

Alexei was born on February 19, 1690, and was the son of Peter and his first wife, Eudoxia Fyodorovna Lopukhina. This marriage was arranged at the behest of Tsarina Natalya Kirillovna on January 27, 1689, but their married life revealed that Peter and his wife were—and remained—complete strangers to one another. Evdokia, who had grown up in the atmosphere of an old-fashioned Moscow terem, shared neither Peter’s views nor his plans for state reform, and Peter was well aware of this, despite his frequent absences. Peter paid little attention to his son Alexei, born of this unhappy marriage, during the boy’s early years. In 1698, when Peter and Evdokia openly broke up, the tsar forced her to take the veil. Until then, Alexei had been raised by his mother, but after she was sent to a convent, he was placed in the care of Peter’s sisters, where the atmosphere was no different from the one in which the tsarevich had previously lived. Later, a foreign tutor was assigned to Alexei, but it was already too late, as the boy’s inclinations and sympathies had already been set. “The prince had absorbed pre-reform views, pre-reform theological teachings, and pre-reform tastes: a striving for outward piety, contemplative inactivity, and sensual pleasures. His son’s weak character only further accentuated his sharp contrast to his father. Fearing his father, the tsarevich did not love him and even wished for his swift death; for Alexei, being with his father was “worse than hard labor,” as he himself admitted… The son remained a passive but stubborn opponent. In 1711, Peter arranged for his son to marry Princess Sophie Charlotte of Wolfenbüttel[]. One must assume that by doing so, he still hoped to reform his son, to change the conditions of his life, by exposing him to the influence of a cultured woman… When Alexei’s son Peter was born and his wife died (1715), Tsar Peter began to view his son differently: with the birth of his grandson, it became possible to remove his son from the line of succession, for there was now another heir. Moreover, Peter could count on having sons of his own, since in 1712 he formally entered into his second marriage”[170] . The hostility that Alexei displayed toward his father, the tsar, as well as toward his reforms, could not, of course, go unnoticed by those around him. And among them were many who shared the crown prince’s views and hoped that, with Alexei’s accession to the throne, it would be possible to return to the old Moscow ways. This “Old Moscow faction” could have become a dangerous opponent of Peter if Alexei himself had been more energetic or if there had been someone in his inner circle capable of leading an open struggle against Peter. Among the many clergymen surrounding Alexei, the priest Yakov Ignatyev, who hated Peter and his reforms, played a leading role. His influence over Alexei was immense. Once, during confession, he asked the tsarevich if he wished for his father’s death. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, Yakov reassured the flustered Alexei with the words: “God will forgive you, for we all wish for his death.” Among the prince’s entourage were also bishops who opposed the tsar, such as Bishop Dosifei Glebov of Rostov, Metropolitan Ignatius Smola of Krutitsy, and Metropolitan Joasaph Krokowski of Kyiv. The Locum Tenens of the Patriarchal See, , was not closely associated with Alexei, but if we recall Stephen’s sermon of 1712, it is not difficult to draw a conclusion about his attitude toward the prince. It is very likely that in the event of a complete break with his father, Alexei counted first and foremost on the support of the Church. “When the time comes for me to be without my father,” he said more than once in private circles, “then I will whisper to the bishops, the bishops to the parish priests, and the priests to the parishioners; then, even reluctantly, they will make me their ruler”[171] . Thus, the family discord between father and son eventually escalated into a political conflict involving the state. Later, during the investigation of the case in 1718, it was revealed that, although there were no plans for a coup among the clergy, the spirit of opposition was nevertheless strong and widespread. It became clear to Peter that he had to take certain measures to protect his reforms from opponents within church circles. As early as 1715, following the death of the Tsarevich’s wife, Peter wrote a lengthy letter to his son in which, pointing out his son’s inability to handle affairs of state, he urged him to either change his ways or renounce his claim to the throne. Alexei agreed to the latter, which aroused the tsar’s suspicion that his son was insincere, and he demanded that Alexei retire to a monastery. The crown prince agreed to this as well. Since Peter was too busy with other matters, the issue remained unresolved. Meanwhile, in 1716, Peter traveled to Denmark and soon summoned his son there. But the crown prince, out of fear of his father and on the advice of those around him, did not go to him but instead went to the Austrian emperor, from whom he sought protection. The emperor sent Alexei to Naples. People sent by the tsar discovered the prince’s whereabouts and persuaded him to return to St. Petersburg. There, in exchange for a promise of pardon, Alexei betrayed those who had helped him escape, and, moreover, those with whom he used to lament the bygone days of Moscow and criticize his father. During the investigation of the case, it became clear that members of the clergy were involved. The senators acting as investigators did not hesitate to use torture, and Peter dealt harshly with his opponents: he ordered the execution of the priests Yakov Ignatyev and Fyodor Pustynny, as well as Bishop Dosifey of Rostov; the more astute and cautious Metropolitan Ignatius Smola was transferred to the Diocese of Irkutsk, but chose to retire to a monastery. Death spared the Metropolitan of Kyiv, Joasaph Krokowski, from punishment, as it overtook him on his way to the interrogation. Crown Prince Alexei was also sentenced to death, but he died before the sentence could be carried out, on June 27, 1718, in a cell of the Peter and Paul Fortress, physically and mentally broken by the torture that the senators had inflicted during the investigation. When the Senate began considering the case of Tsarevich Alexei, Stefan Yavorsky was summoned to St. Petersburg on May 18, 1718, to participate in the trial of the heir to the throne. Peter turned to Stefan for clarification on whether he had the right to execute his son. Stefan spoke in favor of a pardon. He also protested the execution of Bishop Dositheus. But all of Stefan’s pleas were in vain, and he was forced to perform the final rites on the body of the dead Tsarevich and conduct the burial himself (June 30, 1718)[172] .

Shortly after this matter was settled, Peter, for the first time as far as we know, declared the need to reform the structure of church administration. When, in the fall of 1718, Stephen informed the tsar that he felt uncomfortable living in the capital, as this was hindering the administration of the Ryazan Diocese (perhaps Stephen was simply trying once again to relieve himself of the position of locum tenens), Peter replied: “A bishop should be appointed to handle the affairs of Ryazan… and for better administration in the future, it seems advisable to establish a Spiritual College, so that it may be easier to manage such important matters”[173] . These ideas arose in Peter not without the influence of Bishop Theophan Prokopovich, a man whom Peter increasingly admired and who was destined to become one of the key figures in the creation of the new supreme ecclesiastical administration—the Synod.

d) Of all Peter’s contemporaries, Theophanes was, without a doubt, the most suitable collaborator in the cause of Russia’s transformation, for he shared Peter’s views both in reason and in feeling and was convinced that Old Muscovite Russia had outlived its usefulness. P. Pekarsky quite rightly notes that “Theophanes undoubtedly ranks among the most remarkable and outstanding figures in Russian history of the first half of the 18th century. In his field, he was as much an innovator as Peter the Great was in the realm of statecraft.” Surpassing all his contemporaries of his social class in intellect, knowledge, and talent, Prokopovich, like Peter, made no secret of his dissatisfaction—which often turned into contempt—toward everything that reminded him of the old ways and that stood in the way of realizing his cherished ideas; like Peter, he also pursued his goal without hesitation regarding the means, with the same relentless perseverance and remarkable consistency.” He quite consciously put all these qualities at the service of Peter’s reforms, and as soon as, after Peter’s death, the reforms began to change in character and even come to naught, this was reflected in Theophan’s personal fate. The fact is, Pekarsky continued, that “Prokopovich found himself in an isolated position, and his numerous enemies did not fail to renew their attacks against him with even greater persistence—attacks that could have serious consequences, because Theophanes was accused of nothing less than heresy. Prokopovich realized that, after Peter’s reign, a time had come when neither his knowledge nor his talents could help him, and he threw himself into the squabbles, intrigues, and machinations that so abound in our history of that era”[174] .

Pekarsky offers a concise and incisive characterization of Theophanes and the reasons that made him Peter’s most sincere and devoted collaborator. At the same time, the historian explains why it turned out that, in the last years of his life, this highly gifted man became a petty schemer and egoist, for whom the bishop’s vestments were so ill-suited. These vestments undoubtedly played an enormous role in Prokopovich’s fate. Had it not been for them, Theophan’s merits as a statesman might have allowed him to rise even higher. Had it not been for them, perhaps his life—which brought him so much grief in the end—would have ended just as tragically as the lives of many 18th-century Russian dignitaries.

Theophanes should be viewed not as a bishop, argues I. Chistovich, who has studied Theophanes’ life and his era, but “as a statesman, even though his immediate sphere of activity was church affairs”[175] . It may well be that Theophanes himself viewed himself in precisely this way. However, a historian of the Russian Church must not forget that Theophanes held the rank of an Orthodox bishop. Therefore, we are still justified in viewing his activities and their consequences solely as those of a bishop and reformer, rather than as those of a statesman.

There are certain parallels between the lives of Theophan Prokopovich and Stefan Yavorsky. However, they were very different people by nature, and when fate brought them together, they clearly sensed this. It was no coincidence, after all, that they differed sharply on theological matters, and these differences also made them adversaries. Theophanes was born on June 8, 1681, into the family of a Kyiv merchant and was, therefore, much younger than Stefan. By the time he met Peter, Theophanes’s character had not yet matured to the same extent as Stefan’s. Therefore, it was easier for him to embrace the tsar’s reform plans. Theophanes, whose secular name was Eleazar (Elisey), was orphaned at an early age. His upbringing was overseen by his uncle, Theophanes Prokopovich, rector of the Kyiv Collegium and abbot of the Brotherhood Monastery. Until 1698, Eleazar studied at the Kyiv Collegium; then, like Stefan Yavorsky, he went abroad, converted to the Union, and took monastic vows under the name Samuel. The Basilian Order, to which Prokopovich now belonged, took notice of the young, talented Uniate monk and sent him to Rome. There he enrolled in the College of St. Athanasius, whose mission, by the blessing of Pope Gregory XIII, included missionary work. There he completed a full course of Catholic scholastic theology. The college tried to persuade Prokopovich to remain in Italy, but he was drawn back to his homeland [176] . In 1702, he returned to Kyiv with a wealth of Catholic theological knowledge, yet completely rejecting Catholicism itself. Thus, the consequences of studying abroad differed for Prokopovich and Yavorsky, a fact that later manifested itself in their religious writings—the writings of two adversaries. Like Yavorsky, upon his arrival in Russia, Prokopovich returned to Orthodoxy and, upon taking monastic vows, adopted the monastic name Theophan. Given his education, one would naturally expect him to pursue a teaching career, and indeed, as early as 1704, we find Prokopovich among the lecturers at the Kyiv Academy. He taught poetics, rhetoric (1706–1707), philosophy (1707–1711), and, finally, theology (1711–1715). It was during this time that his literary career began, which will be discussed later. Prokopovich’s first sermons and the refinement of his oratorical skills also date to this period. Here in Kyiv, the humble hieromonk and preacher caught Peter’s attention when Theophan had the honor of addressing the tsar with a welcoming speech on the occasion of Peter’s visit to Kyiv’s St. Sophia Cathedral on July 5, 1706. In a textbook on rhetoric written that same year, Theophanes outlined his understanding of the art of oratory, condemning the scholastic style and demanding brevity and clarity from the preacher [177] . Prokopovich’s welcoming speech to the tsar was structured precisely in accordance with these principles, which Peter also highly valued in sermons. The speech was also successful in terms of content: Prokopovich touched on contemporary events, skillfully and appropriately praising Peter’s military successes. Three years later, on July 10, 1709, when the tsar was passing through Kyiv after the victory at Poltava, Theophanes once again delivered a eulogistic speech before him in the same St. Sophia Cathedral, distinguishing himself not only with the beauty of his prose but also with political insight: he understood how important the victory at Poltava was to Peter and what significance it might hold for the future. Theophanes also managed to attract the attention of Prince Menshikov. In 1711, Peter summoned Theophanes to his camp in Iasi, where he delivered a panegyric on the anniversary of the victory at Poltava. This trip marked the first step in Theophanes’ rise to prominence. In 1711, Peter appointed him rector of the Kyiv Academy and abbot of the Kyiv-Brotherhood Monastery. During this time, Theophan wrote *Dogmatics*, in which he broke with the scholastic method. At the same time, the influence of Protestantism on him became evident, as reflected in the introduction of a scientific-historical approach to the teaching of theology at the Kyiv Academy.

For Theophanes, these years were filled with teaching and the responsibilities of administering the Academy. It was a time of his all-around development [178] . At the height of his activities, he was summoned to the capital at the end of 1715; however, due to illness, he was unable to arrive until October 14, 1716. A second phase of his life began, during which he became a close confidant and one of the tsar’s principal advisors. Theophanes, of course, understood that the path to the episcopate now lay open before him, but it very soon became clear to him just how many obstacles lay along that path. It cannot be said with certainty whether Stefan Yavorsky immediately recognized the newly arrived thirty-year-old hieromonk as a potential rival. One thing was clear: given the cooling of relations between Peter and Stefan at that time, Theophanes had been summoned to St. Petersburg for more than just his sermons. Fortunately for Stefan, he had a weapon against Prokopovich that he could deploy if necessary—the Protestant elements in Theophan’s *Dogmatics*, the contents of which Stefan was, of course, familiar with. Theophanes, for his part, was most interested in the question of how to most quickly and easily establish a position so secure that it could serve as a defense against all manner of vicissitudes. Neither his scholarship nor his theological works offered such a guarantee; only one thing did—his active participation in Peter’s state reforms, which the tsar carried out with complete conviction, but against the will of most of those around him. It is therefore not surprising that Theophanes directed all his talent as a preacher toward defending the state reforms. By skillfully interweaving matters of principle with personal considerations, he knew how to frame the issue in such a way that he always won Peter’s approval. Theophanes was one of the few of Peter’s contemporaries who knew what the tsar wanted to do and how he intended to do it. Credit must be given to Theophanes’ keen intuition: he understood Peter at a glance; in a sense, he even anticipated his thoughts, thereby instilling in Peter a firm conviction that he was dealing with a man he could rely on. All of this led to Theophan being tasked with developing a plan to reorganize church administration. His sermons from those pre-synodal years are characteristic: they show little concern for the religious needs of the faithful; before us stands a secular orator who explains and justifies the practice of reforms from historical, legal, and theological perspectives. Theophanes understood that the reforms could be carried out in their entirety only by force, and only on the condition of everyone’s complete submission to the tsar’s will. In Theophanes’s speeches—both ecclesiastical and secular—as well as in all his journalistic writings and other works, we find the idea of serving absolutism. No one before or after him devoted as much effort to justifying this idea as Theophanes did. It also became the central theme of his *Spiritual Regulations*, because for Theophanes, relations between the Church and the state were conceivable only as the Church’s submission to and service of the state. Given his religious convictions, which had been shaped under the strong influence of the Protestant idea of canonical territorialism (Landeskirche), such views contained nothing unnatural; he saw no other way forward, because only under such relations between the Church and the state could the Church assist Peter’s reform efforts.

We believe that Theophan’s viewpoint, which took shape in line with the Western political science of his time, was sincere and not merely an expression of submission to Peter. Already in one of his first sermons, delivered upon his arrival in St. Petersburg on the occasion of the birth of Tsarevich Peter Petrovich (November 28, 1716), Prokopovich, in Peter’s presence, argued for the advantages of absolute monarchy and its necessity and expediency in both secular and ecclesiastical affairs (this “sermon” was published separately under the title “Hope for the Good and Long Years of the Russian Monarchy”). He also spoke of the tsar’s reforms, extolling them in every way. Theophan brought particular joy to the tsar with his sermon on the feast day of Catherine Alexeyevna on November 24, 1717. Closely related to the sermon of November 28, 1716, is his now-famous speech of April 6, 1718, “On Tsar’s Authority and Honor,” in which he articulated his views even more sharply [179] .

Theophan’s sermons bore fruit, and Peter granted him the vacant Diocese of Pskov, despite protests from Stephen, who accused Theophan of being infected with the “Calvinist ulcer”[180] . On June 2, 1718, Theophan was consecrated as Bishop of Pskov. He held this see until Peter’s death. Theophanes lived mostly in St. Petersburg, assisting Peter in matters of church administration. When, in 1718, the tsar first spoke of the need to introduce collegial leadership of the Church, it was clear that only Theophanes Prokopovich could be entrusted with developing the foundations of the future system.

§ 3. The “Spiritual Regulations” and the Establishment of the Holy Synod

a) After the death of the last patriarch, Peter initially contented himself with temporary measures, and it was not until 1718—when victory over the Swedes had become certain—that he began to intensively reorganize state and church administration. Peter was convinced that both of these issues were equally important and had to be addressed together, and that central government authorities should be entrusted with control over the Church as well. This stance was unequivocally expressed as early as in the decree of March 2, 1717, which stated that the “ecclesiastical hierarchy” must be subordinate to the Governing Senate. The Senate’s policies soon placed the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne in a subordinate position. Following the establishment of collegia (1718–1720) accountable to the Senate and reforms of local administration (1719), a new structure of the state apparatus took shape. Now was the time to adapt church leadership to the state mechanism by integrating the former into the latter. The necessity of the collegial principle of church governance seemed to the tsar as self-evident as the subordination of the church’s “ ” to his imperial will. Nevertheless, it was clear to Peter that the introduction of this order appeared to be a radical upheaval in the eyes of the clergy and the people, and therefore he wished to provide a reasoned and accessible justification for his reform [181] .

The conflict with the heir to the throne served as the final catalyst for the decisive measures Peter took against the clergy’s opposition, which had become apparent during the trial. Initially, it was important for Peter to establish a supreme governing body for the Church so that he could then focus on raising the educational level of the clergy. But it was also important that, precisely now—in peacetime, as Peter set out to implement his reform program—the clergy work for the state. Therefore, Peter decided not only to reform church administration through an official decree but, moreover, to reinforce it with a detailed justification [182] .

When Peter’s idea of abolishing the patriarchate had finally matured and the time came to issue a legislative act that would explain and justify this innovation, the only person to whom Peter could entrust this delicate and responsible task turned out to be the young Archbishop of Pskov, Theophanes Prokopovich [183] . Theophanes was undoubtedly the most educated man in Peter’s inner circle, and perhaps even the most educated Russian of the 18th century, with wide-ranging interests and knowledge in the fields of history, theology, philosophy, and linguistics [184] .[ ]Theophanes was a European; he “shared and professed the typical doctrine of the age, echoing Pufendorf, Grotius, Hobbes… Theophanes almost believed in the absoluteness of the state… Theophanes does not merely align himself with, but belongs to, 17th-century Protestant scholasticism… Were it not for the name of a Russian bishop on Theophanes’ “treatises,” one would most naturally assume their author to be among the professors of some Protestant theological faculty. “Everything here is imbued with the Western spirit, the atmosphere of the Reformation,” writes one Russian theologian [185] . It was important to Peter not only that Theophanes possessed all this knowledge; there was another compelling reason to entrust him specifically with the task of justifying the planned restructuring of church administration: Peter was convinced of Theophanes’s loyalty to his reforms. Theophanes understood this and carried out his assignment, sparing neither effort nor time, and devoting himself entirely to the cause. He was a devoted supporter of Peter’s reforms and an official apologist for government measures, a fact that was evident on numerous occasions, particularly in his treatise *The Truth of the Monarch’s Will*. Theophanes’ views on the relationship between the state and the Church fully coincided with Peter’s: both sought a suitable model in the ecclesiastical institutions of Prussia and other Protestant countries [186] .

It was natural for the tsar to entrust the writing of the “Spiritual Regulations” to Theophanes, just as it was natural for Theophanes to expect such a commission [187] . Of course, Peter gave Theophanes certain guidelines, but on the whole, the content of the “Regulations” reflects Theophanes’ ecclesiastical and political views, while his unrestrained temperament is evident in the style. The “Regulations” were conceived not only as a commentary on the law but were also intended to embody the fundamental law of church governance. However, this goal was achieved only partially and far from optimally, since the text lacks clear legal definitions even regarding the structure and powers of the governing bodies [188] . On the other hand, it contains elements that give it the character of a political treatise, in which the author cannot hide his personal views (and, one might say, Peter’s views as well) and his attitude toward various phenomena of church life in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. In places, the “Regulations” turn into an accusatory sermon or satire. “There is a great deal of bitterness in the ‘Regulations.’ It is a malicious and spiteful book”[189] . The author’s argumentation is purely rationalistic. He has no sacred conception of the Church as the Body of Christ. The arguments in favor of a collegial system cannot hide the fact that the main purpose of the “Regulations” lies not so much in the abolition of the patriarchate as in a revolutionary restructuring of relations between the state and the Church. With the publication of the “Spiritual Regulations,” the Russian Church becomes an integral part of the state structure, and the Holy Synod becomes a state institution. The Russian Church loses its close connection with universal Orthodoxy, to which it is now linked only by dogma and ritual. Russian legal scholar A. D. Gradovsky defines this as follows: “The Most Holy Governing Synod, formerly known as the Ecclesiastical Collegium, was established by a state act, not a church one—the ‘Spiritual Regulations’… According to the ‘Regulations,’ the Synod was to be a state institution dependent on secular authority”[190] .

After the manuscript was presented to the tsar and he personally made some corrections (February 11, 1720), on February 23 or 24, the “Regulations” were read aloud in the Senate and signed by the tsar. On February 14, 1721, the establishment of the Spiritual Collegium was marked by a solemn divine service. Theophan Prokopovich delivered a sermon in which he proclaimed that the task of the new “church government” was to improve the ecclesiastical and religious life of the Russian people, without delving into the issue of abolishing the patriarchate. Theophan appealed to the “civil and military rulers” to support the activities of the “church government”[191] .

In the tsar’s manifesto of January 25, 1721, drafted by Theophanes, it is stated—along with the reasons for the reform—that the “Spiritual Regulations” are henceforth the fundamental law of the highest ecclesiastical administration, and the reasons for carrying out the reform are set forth. This makes the manifesto a legislative act. “By the grace of God, We, Peter the First, Tsar and Autocrat of All Russia, and so forth, and so forth… among the many duties incumbent upon Us by virtue of the authority granted to Us by God to care for the betterment of Our people and the other states subject to Us, having examined the clergy and observed in it much disorder and great inadequacy in its affairs, We were seized by a fear that weighed heavily on Our conscience, lest We appear ungrateful to the Almighty, if, having received such great assistance from Him in reforming both the military and civil orders, We neglect the reform of the clergy. And when that impartial Judge asks Us for an answer regarding the great responsibility entrusted to Us by Him, let Us not remain silent. For this reason, following the example of the pious kings of old, both in the Old and New Testaments, having taken upon ourselves the responsibility for the administration of the ecclesiastical order, and seeing no better means to this end than collegial governance, Since a single person is not without passion, and since authority is not hereditary, we do not neglect this matter any further; we hereby establish the Ecclesiastical College, that is, the Ecclesiastical Conciliar Government, which, in accordance with the “Regulations” set forth here, is to administer all ecclesiastical affairs in the All-Russian Church. And we command all our faithful subjects , of every rank, both clerical and lay, to regard this as an important and powerful government, to seek from it the final administration, resolution, and adjudication of ecclesiastical matters, to be satisfied with its definitive judgments, and to obey its decrees in all things under the severe punishment for opposition and disobedience, as opposed to other collegia. This collegium shall also supplement its “Regulations” with new rules as circumstances require for various matters. However, the Ecclesiastical Collegium shall not do so without Our consent. We hereby decree that the following members shall be appointed to this Ecclesiastical College: one president, two vice-presidents, four councilors, and four assessors. And since it is mentioned in the first part of these “Regulations,” in the seventh and eighth paragraphs, that the president is subject to the judgment of his brethren—that is, of the same council—even if he were to commit a serious offense, We therefore decree that he shall have a vote equal to that of the others. All members of this collegium shall, upon assuming their duties, take an oath or make a pledge before the Holy Gospel in accordance with the attached form of the oath.

Signed by His Imperial Majesty in his own hand, Peter.

In St. Petersburg, January 25, 1721.”

Text of the oath: “I, the undersigned, promise and swear by Almighty God, before His Holy Gospel, that I must, and of my own free will, and in every way shall strive in deliberations, judgments, and all matters of this Spiritual Governing Assembly, to always seek the truest truth and the truest justice, and to act in accordance with the statutes set forth in the ‘Spiritual Regulations.’ And if any matters are hereafter determined by the consent of this Spiritual Government and with the approval of His Imperial Majesty… I swear again by Almighty God that I wish and am bound to be a faithful, good, and obedient servant and subject to my natural and true Tsar and Sovereign Peter the First, Autocrat of All Russia, and so forth… and to Her Majesty the Sovereign Catherine Alexeyevna”[192] .

Immediately after the establishment of the Spiritual Collegium, on February 14, 1721, the latter petitioned the tsar to rename it the Most Holy Governing Synod, since the name “Spiritual Collegium” was incomprehensible to the people and could cause confusion during public prayers in churches. The Tsar agreed with these arguments and approved the renaming [193] . The printed edition of the “Regulations” bore the following title: “Spiritual Regulations,” by the grace and mercy of God the Lover of Mankind, and through the diligence and command of the God-given and God-enlightened Most Illustrious and Most Sovereign Sovereign Peter the First, Emperor and Autocrat of All Russia, and so on, and so on, and so on, composed in the Holy Orthodox Russian Church by the consent and decree of the All-Russian Clergy and the Governing Senate.” The details of the entire legislative process are set forth at the end of the “Regulations” in the following words: “All that is written here was first heard by the All-Russian monarch himself, His Most Sacred Imperial Majesty, who deigned to deliberate upon and amend it on February 11– , in the year 1720. Thereafter, by decree of His Majesty, the Most Reverend bishops, archimandrites, and the governing senators likewise heard, deliberated upon, and amended these regulations on the 23rd day of the same month of February. “This document, for its ratification and unalterable enforcement, was signed by the hands of the clergy and senators present, and His Imperial Majesty himself deigned to sign it with his own hand.”

After the session, Peter issued the following order to the Senate: “Since I heard from you yesterday that both the bishops and you had reviewed the draft concerning the Spiritual College and approved it, it is therefore necessary for the bishops and you to sign it, after which I will ratify it. Better yet, sign two copies: leave one here and send the other to the other bishops for their signatures.” However, this directive was addressed not to the locum tenens but to the Senate, by whose decree in May 1720 Major Semyon Davydov and Archimandrite Ion Salnikov collected the signatures of the bishops of all twelve dioceses (with the exception of the Siberian Diocese due to its remoteness), as well as those of the archimandrites and abbots of the most important monasteries. The Senate’s instructions to the authorized representatives stated: “And if anyone refuses to sign, take a written statement from him, signed by hand, stating the specific reason for his refusal to sign, so that he may specify it by name… and that his (the commissioner. — Ed.) will be in office, he must write to the Senate by mail every week.” The bishops were well aware of the consequences of refusal, and the tsar had no difficulty in achieving his first goal: the highest-ranking Russian clergy unquestioningly signed the Church’s “act of capitulation” to the state. The “Spiritual Regulations” conclude with the signatures of Peter I, followed by those of seven senators, six metropolitans, one archbishop, twelve bishops, forty-seven archimandrites, fifteen abbots, and five hieromonks; a total of eighty-seven signatures of clergymen [194] .

b) While the highest-ranking Russian clergy were compelled to submit to Peter’s wishes and commands, mindful of his severity in the matter of Tsarevich Alexei, the attitude of the Eastern Orthodox patriarchs toward all this was by no means clear to Peter. Meanwhile, their approval was of great importance for ecclesiastical and political reasons: such approval would serve, in the eyes of the Russian people and clergy, as an authoritative sanction of the newly established Holy Synod and would strengthen the latter’s position in the struggle against the ever-widening schism. When the Moscow Patriarchate was established in 1589, the Eastern patriarchs recognized it as equal in honor to the other Eastern patriarchates, and the Russian Church as autonomous in matters of internal administration. But as part of the conciliar Orthodox Church, it could not be completely independent of the latter. Much later, in the 19th century, the church historian A. N. Muravyov summarized the essence of the matter as follows: “This conciliar government (i.e., the Holy Synod. – I. S.) was proclaimed throughout Russia, but for its eternal stability, recognition by the other Eastern Churches was still required, so that the unity of the Catholic Church might remain unbroken”[195] .

Peter’s letter to Jeremiah III, Patriarch of Constantinople (1715–1726), contains a Greek translation of the manifesto of January 25, 1721, with significant changes to the text. At the beginning of the manifesto, critical remarks against the patriarchal system have been replaced with the following words: “After much sound deliberation and consultation with both the ecclesiastical and secular officials of Our state, it has been deemed appropriate to establish, with authority equal to that of the Patriarch, a Holy Synod, that is, the highest ecclesiastical collegial government, to administer the Church of Our All-Russian State, composed of a sufficient number of worthy ecclesiastical figures, including both bishops and archimandrites.” In the following sentence, the word “collegium” is translated as the Greek word “synod,” which lends the text an air of ambiguity. The end of the manifesto, however, is entirely different: “We have prescribed to that Most Holy Spiritual Synod, through the established instructions (meaning the ‘Spiritual Regulations.’ – I. S.), that they govern the Holy Church in all matters strictly according to the dogmas of the Holy Orthodox Catholic Church of the Greek Confession, and that they regard these dogmas as the infallible rule of their governance, to which they (i.e., the members of the Synod. – I. S.) have bound themselves by oath in the Holy Cathedral Church, by kissing the Holy Cross, and by signing with their own hands. And we trust that Your Most Holy Holiness, as the first hierarch of the Orthodox Catholic Eastern Church, will deign to approve this Our institution and the work of the Spiritual Synod as beneficial, and will communicate this to the other Most Blessed Patriarchs of Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem.” In conclusion, it is stated that the Holy Synod will continue to maintain contact with the patriarchs on ecclesiastical matters, after which Peter adds: “We promise to show every leniency toward your requests.” This phrase is a diplomatic hint that the patriarchs may continue to appeal to the tsar for subsidies, which they had hitherto received from Moscow [196] .

This letter, sent to Constantinople as early as September 30, 1721, reveals a great deal to the historian. The absence of a church-political (canonical) justification for the church reform shows, first and foremost, that Peter and Theophanes—who undoubtedly drafted this letter—were fully aware that the reform had no canonical basis whatsoever. Changes in the text of the manifesto leave no doubt that the patriarch was not merely misinformed, but completely misled. The letter presents the matter as if it were a question of replacing the patriarch with a Synod possessing the same powers. There is only a passing mention of a certain “instruction,” but the patriarch is not told that this refers to a document as far-reaching as the “Spiritual Regulations.” Not a word is said about the inclusion of the Most Holy Synod (the Ecclesiastical College) in the collegial system of state administration, about the subordination of the Church to the will of the monarch, or about state control over the Church.

In his first reply, dated February 12, 1722, the patriarch congratulated the emperor on his victory over the Swedes and expressed hope that the matter would be resolved successfully as soon as he was able to contact the other patriarchs. On September 23, 1723, the emperor received the long-awaited reply from the Patriarchs of Constantinople and Antioch. The patriarchs declared that “The Synod in the Holy Great Russian Empire is recognized and referred to by our holy brethren in Christ and the Holy Synod as such by all pious and Orthodox Christian clergy, as well as by rulers and subjects, and by every person of high standing, and it has the authority to perform whatever the four Most Holy Apostolic Sees and it instructs, exhorts, and establishes, so that it may preserve and uphold the unaltered customs and rules of the seven Holy Ecumenical Councils and others, as observed by the Holy Eastern Church, and remain in all things unaltered; may the grace of God, our prayers, and the blessing of our humility be with you. September 23, 1723.” In a supplementary letter from Patriarch Jeremiah to the Holy Synod, the recent passing of the Patriarch of Alexandria and the serious illness of the Patriarch of Jerusalem are reported, and an assurance is given that the letters of confirmation from both of these patriarchs will arrive later. Thus, Peter’s desire to obtain sanction for his reform was fulfilled. The willingness of the Patriarchs of Constantinople and Antioch to make concessions regarding the emperor’s non-canonical actions can be explained not only by the reinterpretation of the essence of the matter that took place in Peter’s letter, but also by the dependence of the patriarchs under Turkish rule on Russian subsidies [197] .

c) Thus, the Most Holy Governing Synod, placed at the head of the administration of the Russian Church, was henceforth to be guided in its activities by the “Spiritual Regulations.”

The “Spiritual Regulations” is divided into three parts, which are further subdivided into “clauses” containing either legislative provisions or the compiler’s comments and digressions. They provide insight into Theophanes’ (or Peter’s) views on various issues of church governance; therefore, the “Spiritual Regulations” serve not only as a monument to church legislation but also as a source for assessing the views of Theophanes and, to some extent, Peter.

First and foremost, the significance of the “Regulations” as law is emphasized: “The Regulations, or Spiritual Charter, by which the said body (i.e., the Spiritual Collegium—Ed.) must know its own duties and those of all clergy, as well as of lay persons, insofar as they are subject to spiritual governance, and must act accordingly in the conduct of its affairs.” In contrast to this somewhat vague characterization of the “Regulations’” legislative significance, the manifesto of January 25, 1721, states explicitly that the Ecclesiastical College “is to administer all ecclesiastical affairs in the All-Russian Church.” Consequently, the manifesto constitutes, to a certain extent , a part of the “Regulations,” which is why it was always printed together with them. Theophan titled the first part of the “Regulations”: “What Is the Spiritual Collegium, and What Are the Important Duties of Such a Government.” Along with the “Regulations,” according to Theophan, the canonical rules and regulations remain in full force and effect: “As for the foundation of governance—that is, the law of God set forth in Holy Scripture—as well as the canons, or the conciliar rules of the Holy Fathers, and the civil statutes consistent with the Word of God—these require their own separate books and are not included here.” This is followed by the definition of the Ecclesiastical College: “The governing college is nothing other than a governing assembly, where certain matters—which do not pertain to a single person but to many—are subject to administration by those deemed suitable for the task and established by the highest authority”[198] . Here, Theophanes points out that the Ecclesiastical College was established by the monarch. According to Theophanes’ definition, a distinction must be made between “temporary” and “permanent” collegia. The former include, for example, “ecclesiastical synods,” while the latter include the “ecclesiastical Sanhedrin” or the “civil court of the Areopagus in Athens,” as well as Peter the Great’s collegia, established for the good of the state. “And as a Christian sovereign, the guardian of orthodoxy and of all holy order in the Church (this formula was included in the 19th century in the Fundamental Laws of the Russian Empire. —I. S.), having considered the spiritual needs and desiring the best possible administration thereof, deigned to establish a Spiritual Collegium, which would diligently and tirelessly ensure that, for the benefit of the Church, all matters proceed in accordance with proper order and that there be no disorder—which is the desire of the Apostle, or rather the will of God Himself.” Therefore, “let no one presume to think that this form of governance is displeasing, or that it would be better for a single person to govern all the spiritual affairs of the entire community.” Theophan cites nine “reasons” why “this form of conciliar governance is always the most perfect and the best, rather than autocratic rule, especially in a monarchical state such as our Russian one.”

The first “reason” is a practical consideration: “What one person fails to grasp, another will.” The second “reason” is that a collegial judgment carries greater authority: “For a collective verdict inspires greater confidence and obedience than a unilateral decree.” Third, “the governing council under a sovereign monarch exists and is established by the monarch”; hence it is clear that “the council is not some sort of faction (i.e., a group or party. – I. S.), formed as a secret alliance for its own interests, but rather for the common good, by order of the autocrat, and consists of persons assembled by him and others for deliberation.” Fourth, under a collegial system of government, death does not lead to the suspension of affairs, which continue “in an uninterrupted flow.” Fifth, there is no place in a collegium for “bias, treachery, or corrupt judgment.” Furthermore, the advantage of a collegium lies in the fact that “it is by no means possible for all (i.e., the members of the collegium. – I. S.) to conspire in secret.” Here, Peter’s distrust of the opposition-minded clergy shines through: “Bishops, archimandrites, abbots, and members of the higher clergy—truly, one cannot imagine them here, as such, daring to reveal to one another some treacherous scheme, let alone agreeing to injustice.” Therefore, here in the council, there are no “powerful figures” who influence others, and, as stated in the sixth “fault,” “the council possesses the freest spirit toward justice.”

The seventh “fault” is of an ecclesiastical-political nature and reflects Peter I’s assessment of the preceding period in relations between the state and the Church—above all, the conflict between Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Theophanes sets it forth in great detail, and it is indeed central to his system of arguments in favor of reform. Theophanes explains the main political motive that guided the tsar and proves that Peter pursued, first and foremost, the interests of the state, rather than any narrowly ecclesiastical reformist goals. In terms of content, Theophanes’ arguments are closely linked to the idea, briefly mentioned in the manifesto, that “in a single person, passion is not absent.” “It is also significant,” writes Theophan, “that the fatherland need not fear rebellion and turmoil from conciliar rule, which arise from a single, self-willed spiritual ruler. For the common people do not know how spiritual authority differs from autocratic rule; but, amazed by the great honor and glory of the supreme shepherd, they imagine that such a ruler is a second sovereign, equal to or even greater than the autocrat, and that the spiritual order is another and better state—and this is how the people themselves are accustomed to reasoning. What then, if the harmful words of power-hungry clergy are added to the mix and set fire to the dry brush? Thus, simple hearts are corrupted by this notion, so that they regard their autocrat not so much as their supreme shepherd in any matter”[199] . To prove the clergy’s lust for power, Theophanes also turns to the history of Byzantium and the papacy and warns against such encroachments: “May such attempts as have occurred among us not be repeated. Such evil cannot take place under conciliar government. And when the people see that this conciliar government has been established by monarchical decree and senatorial resolution, they will all the more remain in their meekness and will thoroughly abandon any hope of receiving aid for their rebellions from the clergy.”

The eighth “fault” lies in the fact that such “attempts” within the collegium itself are impossible, since not only each of its members but also the chairman himself is subject to collegial judgment “if he commits a serious offense.” Therefore, there is no need to convene an Ecumenical Council, which is in any case impossible due to Turkish rule over the Eastern Patriarchates. The ninth “fault” reveals Peter’s concern for raising the level of education and culture among the clergy: The Spiritual College should, in a certain sense, be a school of spiritual governance: “Each member can conveniently learn spiritual governance from his colleagues… therefore, the most virtuous among the colleagues will prove worthy of ascending to the rank of bishop. And so, in Russia, with God’s help, the coarseness of the clergy will soon disappear, and we may hope for the very best.”

These are the grounds for the reform, as Theophanes sees them. There are no canonical considerations among them. However, the views of Peter and Theophanes himself are clearly expressed, and the reader of the “Spiritual Regulations” has no doubt that disobedience to the Spiritual College—that is, to the Holy Synod—is tantamount to resistance against the monarch. Theophanes repeatedly emphasizes that the Holy Synod is a “conciliar government” and, consequently, more than just a collegial governing body. Already in the manifesto, this expression is deliberately used to evoke associations with ecclesiastical councils in the reader’s mind. In the official 1837 textbook on Russian church history, the Holy Synod is explicitly referred to as an “uninterrupted Local Council”[200] . Filaret Gumilevsky’s *History of the Russian Church* states: “The Holy Synod, in its composition, is the same as a legitimate ecclesiastical council”[201] . As early as 1815, Filaret Drozdov, who later became a metropolitan, attempted to present the Holy Synod as the embodiment of the conciliar principle of the ancient Church. In his work *Conversations Between a Doubting and a Convinced Person on the Orthodoxy of the Eastern Catholic Church*, the doubter is told that “whenever a patriarch died in any Church, a Council—or, in Greek, a Synod—was convened, which then took the place of the patriarch.” This Council possessed the same authority as the patriarch. When the Russian Church established the Holy Synod as the highest governing body, it “came closer to the ancient model of ecclesiastical leadership.” While in ancient times the patriarch himself used to convene one or two such Councils a year, “given the vastness of the Russian Church, as well as the current way of conducting affairs, it was impossible in Russia for the Synod to meet once or twice a year; rather, it had to be in session at all times.” To the question posed by a skeptic: “Who should be considered the highest authority in the ecclesiastical hierarchy—the patriarch or the Synod?”—the following answer is given: “The General Synod of the entire Russian Church could judge the patriarch himself (Filaret was evidently referring here to the trial of Patriarch Nikon in the 17th century. —I. S.). The Private Synod of elected bishops, in its unity, enjoys rights equal to those of the patriarch, which is why, just like the patriarch, it is called Most Holy. The patriarch is the Synod in one person. The Synod is the patriarch in several elected and consecrated persons. This is how the Orthodox patriarchs of the East viewed the state of affairs when they gave their consent to the establishment of the Most Holy Synod in the Russian Church and recognized for it the very same authority that the Patriarch of All Russia had held until then”[202] . Filaret Drozdov presumably believes that he has thereby proven the legitimacy of the Holy Synod from a canonical standpoint. Here we observe the same tendency, sanctified even by the authorities of Peter I and Theophan, of an essentially unjustified appeal to the conciliar idea to provide the Holy Synod with a sort of canonically conciliar justification. Both of these points—the “state character” and “conciliar nature” of the Holy Synod, so clearly formulated by Theophan—became in the nineteenth century, on the one hand, the main bastions in the state’s defense of the synodal system, and on the other, the weak points at which the opposition directed its criticism.

If the first part of the “Spiritual Regulations” serves as an introduction, Theophan titled the second part: “Matters Subject to This Administration” and subdivided it into: 1) “General Matters of the Entire Church” and 2) “Matters of a Specific Nature” (meaning, of course, the clergy).

In the first section, “General Matters,” the council is charged with ensuring “that everything is done correctly and in accordance with Christian law, and that nothing is done anywhere that is contrary to that law.” Immediately following this, it is explained what this duty primarily consists of—the proper conduct of divine services and the censorship of books: “If anyone writes a theological treatise on any subject, it should not be printed immediately, but must first be submitted to the council. The council, in turn, must examine whether the treatise contains any errors contrary to Orthodox doctrine.” Furthermore, it must be ensured that “we have sufficient Christian teaching to guide us toward salvation.” Finally, one of the board’s immediate tasks is specified as follows: “To compose three small booklets. The first on the most important salvific dogmas of our faith, as well as on God’s commandments, as contained in the Ten Commandments. The second on the duties specific to each rank. The third should be a collection of clear sermons gathered from various holy teachers.” It is recommended that these booklets be read in church after the service, so “that all these booklets may be read within a quarter of a year.”

Section Two—on matters “necessary in their own right”—discusses three topics. The first is diocesan administration (matters pertaining to bishops, parish clergy, and monastic orders); the second is theological schools.

Episcopal matters include the following: diocesan administration, supervision of the parish clergy, the right to excommunication, diocesan visits, and theological schools. Three rules (“regulae”), namely 13, 14, and 15, emphasize that bishops, just like all clergy in the dioceses, are subordinate to the Spiritual College and subject to its judgment. Finally, Rule 23 deals with preaching.

The third topic is the Ecclesiastical College itself. It is to consist of twelve members—a requirement that was almost never met. The manifesto mentions eleven members: a president, two vice presidents, four counselors, and four assessors. The Synod’s budget, submitted to the Senate for approval, also listed only eleven members [203] . “Bishops, abbots, and archpriests” are to be appointed as members of the Spiritual College. Three of them were to hold the episcopal rank. However, this requirement was not always met. Immediately after the college was established, a simple monk, Theophilus Krolik, became a member of the Synod. Later, another trend became decisive for the Synod’s composition: increasing the number of bishops within it [204] .

The following duties of the collegium are listed: 1) oversight of all church administration and church courts; 2) evaluation of proposals for improvements of any kind; 3) censorship; 4) investigation and verification of miracles; 5) examination of new sectarian teachings; 6) investigation of ambiguous matters of conscience; 7) examining candidates for the office of bishop; 8) assuming the functions of the former patriarchal court; 9) overseeing the use of church property; 10) defending bishops and other clergy before secular courts; 11) verifying the authenticity of wills (in conjunction with the Justice College); 12) eradicating begging and revitalizing charity; 13) combating simony. This is followed by a provision regarding the oath: “In fact, every member of the College—both the president and the others—must take an oath at the beginning of their term of office: that he is and will remain loyal to His Imperial Majesty; that he will judge cases, give counsel, and consider, accept, or reject the opinions and advice of his fellow members not according to his own passions or for the sake of bribery, but for God and the good of the people, with the fear of God and a clear conscience. And they shall take this oath before , under the penalty of excommunication and corporal punishment, should they later be found to have violated their oath.”

At the end, there is a brief mention of “laypeople,” who are required to receive Holy Communion once a year. In addition to everything else, the council is obligated to collect data on the number of Old Believers in each diocese. Private individuals may not invite priests without parishes (“wandering and vagrant priests”) to conduct home services, nor may they provide them with shelter (clauses 7–8). Newborns are to be baptized only in parish churches.

Attached to this text of the “Spiritual Regulations”—written by Theophan and revised by Peter—are “clauses” that were drafted by the Spiritual Collegium itself and approved by the tsar. These concern the renaming of the collegium to the Most Holy Governing Synod, followed by a very diplomatically worded request from the collegium to the tsar: “Should the patriarchal, episcopal, and monastic estates—the collection of revenues from and administration of which were previously managed by the Monastic Office—be placed under the sole jurisdiction of the Spiritual College, given that they have fallen into disrepair and neglect under the civil administrators, and the Ecclesiastical Collegium has sworn an oath to be no less loyal and dedicated to the interests of His Imperial Majesty than other collegia; and the ‘Ecclesiastical Regulations’ stipulate that such administration belongs to the Ecclesiastical Collegium.” Peter’s resolution read: “Let it be so”[205] .

Shortly after the first edition of the “Spiritual Regulations”—on September 16, 1721—a second edition appeared in May 1722 with an addendum, apparently authored by Theophan and Theophilus Krolik, titled “Addendum on the Rules for the Church Clergy and the Monastic Order.” The legal basis for the “Supplement” was a manifesto dated January 25, 1721, but the Holy Synod did not seek the tsar’s consent for the publication of the “Supplement,” which resulted in a reprimand from Peter [206] .

The first part of the “Addendum” deals with the lay clergy: “on presbyters, deacons, and other members of the clergy.” The second part is titled “On Monks” and concerns monastic life. The content of both of these parts will be examined in detail later in the corresponding sections on the parish clergy and monasticism.

As early as July 7, 1721, Theophanes published his work *Historical Inquiry*, which served as an apology for church reform. According to Theophanes, the monarch’s right to implement reforms also extends to the sphere of church organization and administration: “Sovereigns may be called the bishops of their people, their subjects. For the name ‘bishop’ means ‘overseer’… The sovereign, the highest authority, is the perfect, ultimate, supreme, and all-powerful overseer—that is, the one possessing power and command, as well as final judgment and punishment over all his subjects, both secular and ecclesiastical.” I have sufficiently demonstrated this from both the Old and New Testaments in “A Sermon on Royal Dignity,” preached on Palm Sunday in 1718, and for that reason I do not repeat it here. And since divine supervision over the clergy is established by God, every supreme and lawful sovereign in his state is truly the “bishop of bishops”[207] . In the same year, Theophan wrote a treatise titled “On the Mention of the Patriarch’s Name in Church Prayers, Which Is Now Abandoned in Russian Churches” (May 1721). Toward the end of his life, Theophanes also published a “Treatise Explaining When the Patriarchal Office Began in the Church, How the Church Was Governed for 400 Years Without a Patriarchate, and Why Some Still Do Not Obey the Ecumenical Patriarchs”[208] .

Theophan’s argument in defense of church reform, as set forth in the “Regulations” and in the aforementioned treatises, can be summarized as follows: contrary to the doubts of the Old Believers, Peter I is the legitimate sovereign; he is an autocrat and, moreover, a Christian monarch; as a Christian autocrat, he has the right to reform the Church; all subjects, whether of the clergy or the laity, are bound to him by obedience and must recognize his state and ecclesiastical reforms [209] .

d) In their attempts to provide at least some canonical justification for the Holy Synod, historians have essentially neglected to inquire into the actual ideological origins of its founding document—the “Spiritual Regulations.” The question of what circumstances influenced Peter I and Theophanes as they drafted this document of Russian ecclesiastical law has been left unaddressed or touched upon only very superficially [210] . Later researchers have contented themselves with describing the actual functions of the Holy Synod as an organ of state authority.

The issue of the “Regulations’s” Protestant origins first surfaced in 1900 during a discussion of the book by S. G. Runkevich, a high-ranking official of the Holy Synod, titled *History of the Russian Church under the Administration of the Holy Synod*. Critics determined that the book was nothing more than an apology—an argument for the ecclesiastical, political, and state-political expediency of Peter’s church reform, without any examination of its sources—and that Protestant influence was evident not only in the text of the “Regulations” but also in the administrative practices of the Holy Synod itself [211] . It was not until 1916 that P. V. Verkhovskaya, in her seminal study “The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium and the ‘Spiritual Regulations,’” provided a thorough scholarly analysis of the sources of the “Regulations,” which deserves detailed consideration.

In her introduction, Verkhovskaya provides an extensive overview of Russian and foreign literature—both contemporary to the *Regulations* as well as later historical works, which—though they do not delve into the sources—are unanimous in asserting that the establishment of the Spiritual Collegium (later the Holy Synod) and the drafting of the “Spiritual Regulations” were modeled after Protestant examples. The author then analyzes the Western European Protestant sources that Peter I and Theophanes might have drawn upon and concludes that the model for the Spiritual Collegium was the Protestant consistories of Western Europe, primarily those of Livonia and Estonia. “Peter the Great not only had a thorough understanding of the basic features of the Protestant Church’s structure and its characteristic collegial institutions—the consistories—but also exercised authority over them (in Livonia and Estonia—I. S.) the authority of the Protestant Landesherr based on territorialism, which was obvious and seemed normal both to him and to his contemporaries, including Theophan Prokopovich.” From there, it was only a short step to organizing the administration of the Russian Church according to the same principle. “It was precisely foreign and Russian collegia and Protestant consistories that served as models for Theophan’s Spiritual Collegium… It seems difficult to hold any other view regarding their significance as models for the Spiritual Collegium and as ideological sources for the ‘Spiritual Regulations.’” At the same time, “Protestant theories of authority… in ecclesiastical matters convince us that they could have served Theophan Prokopovich as very convenient material for justifying, in the *Spiritual Regulations*, Peter’s rights as a Christian sovereign, guardian of orthodoxy, and upholder of all holy order within the Church.” Furthermore, this found support in “the views of certain philosophers of the school of natural law… As is evident from his biography, Theophanes was thoroughly familiar with all these ideas…” As for the general structure and spirit of the “Regulations,” they cannot in any way be compared not only to any canonical collections or conciliar acts, but even to similar regulations of other collegia established by Peter. The “Spiritual Regulations” bear the specific imprint of Protestant church constitutions—Kirchenordnungen… Moreover, the “Spiritual Regulations” contain some rather curious parallels between individual ideas and passages and the Swedish church constitution of 1686 by Charles XI, which was extended to Livonia and Estonia, although these parallels do not entitle us to regard the latter as a direct source of the “Regulations.” Verkhovskoy reaches the following conclusion: “The Spiritual Collegium, as conceived by Peter and Theophan, is nothing other than a general church consistory of the German-Swedish type, and the ‘Spiritual Regulations’— —are a free adaptation of Protestant church constitutions (Kirchenordnungen). The Spiritual Collegium is a state institution, the creation of which completely altered the legal status of the Church in the Russian state”[212] . Verkhovsky’s conclusions and his bleak summary cannot, in our view, be refuted either by sophistical arguments in the manner of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov or by any other official arguments.

The subsequent renaming of the Spiritual Collegium to the Most Holy Governing Synod, carried out with due regard for the religious psychology of the Russian people, did not alter in any fundamental way the nature of the Russian state church system established by Peter. As we examine the history of the Most Holy Synod and the entire synodal system in its relations with both the state authorities and the faithful, we will be convinced of the validity of this idea at every turn.

§ 4. The Holy Synod: Its Organization and Activities Under Peter I

a) The Spiritual College, renamed the Holy Synod shortly after its establishment, began its work immediately following its solemn inauguration.

According to the tsar’s manifesto of January 25, 1721, the Holy Synod consisted of eleven members, whereas the “Spiritual Regulations” provided for twelve. Peter I insisted on strict adherence to the principle of collegiality. “The very title of ‘president,’” states the “Spiritual Regulations,” “is not a title of pride; it means nothing more than ‘chairman.’” Thus, the president was to be primus inter pares—first among equals [213] . The first—and, as it later turned out, the only—holder of this title, by Peter’s decree, was the former locum tenens of the patriarchal throne, Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky of Ryazan, with whom the tsar had frequently disagreed in recent years. Perhaps Peter considered it unwise to ignore Yavorsky in terms of succession in church governance, while hoping at the same time that Stephen’s influence would be neutralized by the collegial nature of the body itself. Yavorsky’s rival in the Synod was Theophan Prokopovich. Despite the protests of its president, the Synod resolved to abolish the commemoration of Orthodox patriarchs during divine services. On May 22, 1721, Theophan published a pamphlet titled “On the Mention of the Patriarch’s Name,” and by early June, the president had submitted a memorandum to the Senate: “Apology, or Verbal Defense, Concerning the Mention of Orthodox Patriarchs in Church Prayers”[214] . The conflict ended with the Senate rejecting Stephen’s memorandum and issuing him a written reprimand, “so that he might by no means communicate such questions and answers—which are extremely harmful and disruptive—to anyone or use them in any public statement”[215] . Even more offensive to the metropolitan was the fact that, by order of the tsar, he was subjected to interrogation in the Senate regarding the case of the monk Varlaam Levin. Varlaam had been arrested by the secret state police, the so-called Preobrazhensky Order, on charges of making rebellious statements against the sovereign that threatened public order; during interrogation, he revealed that he had been in contact with Stefan Yavorsky. The metropolitan denied before the Senate any connection with the monk, who was forced to admit that he had lied. For his “political” and “blasphemous” speeches, Varlaam was convicted and, after being defrocked, burned at the stake in Moscow on August 22, 1722. Shortly thereafter, on November 22, the metropolitan also passed away. He was buried in the Ryazan Cathedral on December 27, 1722.[216]

The tsar did not appoint a successor. By decree of the tsar, Theophanes Prokopovich became the second vice-president of the Holy Synod, and Theodosius Yanovsky, Archbishop of Novgorod, became the first. Peter had come to know and appreciate Theodosius Yanovsky even before meeting Theophanes. Theodosius was born in 1674 or 1675 into a noble family in the Smolensk region. At the end of the century, he took monastic vows at the Simonov Monastery in Moscow, and after some initial setbacks at the very beginning of his monastic career, he earned the favor and patronage of Archimandrite Job of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra. When Job was appointed Metropolitan of Novgorod in 1699, he took his protégé with him; there, in 1701, he elevated Theodosius to the rank of igumen, and in 1704 appointed him archimandrite of the Khutyn Monastery. Yanovsky did not distinguish himself as a writer, nor was he notable as a preacher; however, he demonstrated remarkable abilities as an administrator. Peter I, who sought out talent and supported it wherever he found it, recognized Yanovsky’s worth and ordered that he be appointed ecclesiastical judge of St. Petersburg, Yamburg, Narva, Koporye, and Shlisselburg. Endowed with the powers of a diocesan bishop, Yanovsky was highly active in the construction of churches and the supervision of the clergy. He also took a keen interest in the founding of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, and in 1712 became its archimandrite, receiving special privileges. He began to display arrogance and haughtiness—even toward his patron, Metropolitan Job. Yanovsky became involved, not without success, in ecclesiastical and political intrigues. On January 31, 1716, he succeeded Metropolitan Job, who had died in 1716 [217] .

The members of the Holy Synod also included four counselors; their number increased to five in 1722 following the admission to the Synod of Archimandrite Theophylact Lopatinsky, rector of the Moscow Academy and a supporter of Stefan Yavorsky. In 1723, Lopatinsky, while retaining his seat on the Synod, became Bishop of Tver [218] . In addition to the counselors, the Synod also included assessors, who were appointed from among the white clergy [219] . Among the privileges of the bishops—members of the Synod—was the right to wear a miter with a cross; archimandrites had the right to wear a pectoral cross [220] .[

]A tsarist decree dated January 28, 1721, provided for a stipend of 3,000 rubles for the president of the Synod, 2,500 rubles each for the vice presidents, and 600 rubles each for the assessors. In addition, bishops were permitted to receive supplementary income from their dioceses, and archimandrites from their monasteries. Salary payments were irregular, as their sources had not been precisely defined; moreover, in 1723, the tsar suspended salary payments until tax arrears on lands under the Synod’s jurisdiction were settled. It was not until 1724 that Peter issued a decree ordering that salaries be paid from the revenues of these lands. The salary amounts, incidentally, were truly royal [221] .

At first, the Synod was preoccupied with matters of protocol. Bishops who were members of the Synod could have an entire retinue from their dioceses. Archimandrites, according to the regulations, were permitted to keep only a cell attendant from among the monks, a cook, a servant, a coachman with three horses, and in the summer—a four-oared rowboat with five sailors—and to live in their own homes. During divine services, the clergy—members of the Synod—wore the vestments of former patriarchs. The patriarchal throne, which had been located in the Cathedral of the Dormition, was removed from there. According to the schedule established by the Synod, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were set aside for meetings attended by all members of the Synod, including counselors and assessors. However, a quorum was not always present. This schedule remained in effect until the end of the synodal period [222] . The Synod maintained its own chancery and a large number of administrative bodies [223] .

b) The Patriarch of Moscow exercised full control over the Church, that is, he possessed legislative, executive, and judicial authority. By the Manifesto of January 25, 1721, and the “Spiritual Regulations,” all three branches of authority were transferred to the Holy Synod. The Synod’s first task was to inform the diocesan bishops of this new status. When the bishops began submitting only reports to the Synod instead of full accounts, the Synod wrote to them: “The Ecclesiastical College possesses the honor, glory, and authority of the Patriarch—or perhaps even greater, since it is a Council”[224] .

The legislative authority of the Synod is described in the manifesto as follows: “This body must henceforth supplement its ‘Regulations’ with new rules, as required by the circumstances of various matters. However, the ecclesiastical body must not do so without Our consent.” These restrictions were supplemented by a decree dated November 19, 1721: “And should such an (urgent—Ed.) matter should arise, and it is impossible to wait until Our arrival, then the Synod shall consult with the Senate, sign the decree, and subsequently publish it”[225] . This provision contained the seeds of the Holy Synod’s dependence on the Senate, a situation that gradually came to pass in practice. In the tsar’s instructions to the Chief Prosecutor, the latter is granted only the right of oversight: “He must watch closely to ensure that the Synod acts righteously and without hypocrisy in its office,” and, if not, “report immediately” to the tsar (paragraph 2)[226] .

The first significant document of Synodal legislation was the “Addendum” to the “Spiritual Regulations” of April 1722, published by the Synod without the emperor’s approval. For this, the Synod received a reprimand from the tsar; the print run was confiscated, and the “Addendum” was edited by Peter and then published together with the “Spiritual Regulations” on July 14, 1722.[227]

Of the decrees of the Holy Synod, which had the force of law, we can mention only the most important ones. As early as 1721, the Synod prohibited the tonsure of nuns without its permission, issued a directive that children of mixed marriages be baptized only according to the Orthodox rite, and established rules for the restoration of icons [228] . As a result of a joint conference between the Senate and the Synod, the Holy Synod issued a decree on July 16, 1722, consisting of the following points: 1) parish priests were required to keep lists of parishioners and to record by name those who came to receive Communion, as well as those who avoided confession; 2) the latter were subject to punishment; 3) Priests were to monitor parishioners’ attendance at church on feast days; 4) Old Believers were prohibited from performing the sacraments and spreading their teachings; 5) Provisions regarding the baptism of Old Believer children and their marriage according to the Orthodox rite [229] .

The Synod’s supreme authority was also based on the manifesto of January 25, which stated: “The Spiritual Conciliar Government is to administer all spiritual matters in the All-Russian Church.” The details were specified in the second part of the “Spiritual Regulations.” The Holy Synod was granted the right to exercise governance directly or through diocesan bishops. It had full authority to establish new sees, nominate candidates to fill them, and submit its proposals for the sovereign’s approval [230] . Bishops were subordinate to the Holy Synod: “Let every bishop, whatever his rank—whether a simple bishop, an archbishop, or a metropolitan—know that he is subject to the Spiritual Collegium as the supreme authority, must obey its decrees, be subject to its judgment, and be satisfied with its decisions” (“Matters of the Bishops,” paragraph 13). The Holy Synod appointed abbots and abbesses of monasteries, defrocked clergy and monastics, ordained archimandrites, archpriests, or abbots, and bestowed awards; it granted permission for the construction and repair of churches, as well as for the founding of monasteries; it appointed hieromonks to the army and the navy [231] ; it oversaw the administration of dioceses, collected reports from bishops, and rendered decisions in cases of doubt [232] .

The Holy Synod had the right and the duty to safeguard the purity of the faith and morality, eradicate superstition, combat heresies and schisms, authenticate the relics and lives of the saints, ensure the correctness of iconography, compose liturgical texts, establish new liturgical services, and revise and publish liturgical books. In accordance with this last provision, the Holy Synod published, in the early years of its activity, a number of liturgical books, instructions against schism, and several catechism publications. Finally, the “Regulations” entrusted the Holy Synod with spiritual censorship, which thereby became a permanent institution [233] .

The judicial authority of the Holy Synod was also based on that same manifesto; the details are set forth in Parts 2 and 3 of the “Regulations.” Along with the Presidium of the Holy Synod, the judicial bodies included the Office of Judicial Affairs, the Moscow Synodal Chancellery, and the Tribunal. The Office of Judicial Affairs and the Presidium also served as the highest court of appeal. Members of the Synod were subject only to the jurisdiction of the Presidium. The Synod’s jurisdiction also extended to laypeople if they were brought to trial for ecclesiastical matters. Heretics and schismatics were the primary targets of punishment. According to the “Regulations,” the most severe punishments were excommunication from the Church and anathema. For less serious offenses, ecclesiastical penances were imposed. The “Spiritual Regulations” also recognized the right of diocesan bishops to excommunicate from the Church, recommending, however, that they act “patiently and judiciously in the exercise of their temporal authority” (Part 3, Section 16). Both individuals and entire parishes could be excommunicated; in such cases, their churches were sealed, and the celebration of the sacraments and even services was suspended. The “Regulations” cite examples of offenses punishable by excommunication: persistent failure to attend divine services and slander. Anathema remained the prerogative of the Synod and was imposed on: 1) those who blasphemed the name of God, Holy Scripture, or the Church with malice and mockery; 2) those who openly and arrogantly disregarded the Lord’s commandments and ecclesiastical authorities; 3) those who had long avoided confession. As a church penalty for the latter, a monetary fine could also be imposed; failure to pay this fine could result in corporal punishment or even hard labor, as is evident from the Synod’s decrees [234] . The scope of the Holy Synod’s jurisdiction, as compared to the patriarch’s judicial authority, was limited by the fact that crimes against morality—such as debauchery, rape, incest, and marriage against the parents’ will—now fell under the jurisdiction of the civil court [235] . All matrimonial law and divorce cases remained under the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical court until, by Peter’s decree of April 12, 1722, cases concerning children born out of wedlock and children from illegitimate marriages were transferred to secular courts [236] . Inheritance cases had already been transferred to the sphere of civil proceedings even before the establishment of the Holy Synod. However, disputes over the wills of “noble persons,” according to the “Regulations,” were considered by the Collegium of Justice jointly with the Holy Synod [237] .

Certain matters of civil law also fell under the jurisdiction of the Holy Synod. In 1701, the restored Monastic Order was granted jurisdiction over civil cases involving all persons belonging to the church administration and church institutions. However, in the same year, it was decreed that complaints against the clergy were to be handled by the Vicar’s Ecclesiastical Office, while only lawsuits against lay persons employed by ecclesiastical institutions, as well as cases involving church and monastic peasants, remained within the jurisdiction of the Monastic Office. Lawsuits filed by the aforementioned individuals and the clergy against employees of civil institutions fell under the jurisdiction of those institutions. After the establishment of the Holy Synod, the latter transferred civil lawsuits against the clergy in territories under the Synod’s jurisdiction to the Ecclesiastical Department, and in diocesan territories—to the diocesan bishops, whereas cases against laypeople in the service of the Church and against monastic peasants continued to be heard by the Monastic Department [238] . Crimes committed by the clergy were subject to the jurisdiction of the Synod, with the exception of serious crimes against the state, as well as robbery and murder [239] .

c) Peter I ordered that the Senate and the Synod possess “equal dignity”[240] . Despite this, the Senate continued its practice of interfering in ecclesiastical affairs, a practice it had already applied with regard to the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne. In its very first report to the tsar, the Synod sought instructions regarding its relations with the Senate and the colleges, pointing out that the patriarch had received no decrees from any source. “The Ecclesiastical College possesses the honor, glory, and authority of the patriarchate—or perhaps even greater, since it is a Council.” Peter decided that communications with the Senate should take the form of notifications signed by all members of the Synod, while communications with the colleges should follow the form customarily used by the Senate, signed by one of its secretaries. Considering itself equal to the Senate, the Holy Synod protested against “orders” issued by the Senate and demanded that its secretaries be granted the same official ranks as those held by Senate secretaries [241] . The “Spiritual Regulations” had already recommended that the Holy Synod coordinate its decisions with the Senate on certain matters. A decree to the Senate dated September 6, 1721, mandated joint sessions of both bodies on an equal footing. Between 1721 and 1724, such sessions did indeed take place, during which not only issues straddling the jurisdictions of both bodies were discussed (for example, the care of illegitimate children and the disabled, the financing of schools, and the salary of the chief prosecutor), but also matters of a purely ecclesiastical nature—such as budgets for the maintenance of parish clergy, schisms, icon painting, and so on. At times, the Holy Synod resorted to such meetings with relief, as they relieved it of some responsibility when it came, for example, to questionable innovations such as the requirement that priests report confessions of crimes, made during confession. On the whole, however, the Holy Synod sought to defend its rights against encroachments by the Senate [242] .

d) On May 11, 1722, Peter issued a decree ordering “the Synod to select from among its officers a man of good character who would have the courage and the ability to manage the affairs of the Synod, and to appoint him Chief Prosecutor, and to provide him with instructions based on the instructions of the Attorney General (of the Senate. – I. S.)”[243] . The instructions drawn up by the Senate repeat word for word those given to the General Prosecutor. They state: “The Chief Prosecutor must sit in the Synod and keep a close watch to ensure that the Synod fulfills its duties and, in all matters subject to the Synod’s consideration and decision, it handles them truthfully, diligently, and properly, without delay, in accordance with the regulations and decrees—unless some lawful reason prevents its execution, in which case he must record everything in his journal; he must also ensure that matters in the Synod are not merely decided upon the table but are actually carried out in accordance with the decrees… He must also ensure that the Synod acts righteously and without hypocrisy in the exercise of its office. And if he observes anything contrary to this, he must immediately bring it to the Synod’s attention, clearly and in full detail, explaining in what way they—or some among them—are not acting as they ought, so that they may correct it. And if they do not heed him, he must protest at that very moment, halt the matter in question, and immediately report it to Us (the Tsar. – I. S.), if the matter is of great importance; and regarding other matters—during Our presence at the Synod, or monthly, or weekly, as the decree may stipulate”[244] . In the instructions, the Chief Prosecutor is referred to as the sovereign’s “eye” and “chancellor for state affairs.” He was entrusted with the administration of the Holy Synod’s chancellery, along with all its staff. This authority, which had such far-reaching consequences for the history of synodal administration, directly involved the Chief Prosecutor in the Synod’s administrative work. The supervisor became a participant in the work, and moreover, one who occupied a key position in the secretariat. In this way, Peter laid the groundwork for the future rise of the chief procurators and the ultimate subordination of synodal administration to their will in the 19th century.

Nothing is known about the activities of the first Chief Prosecutor, Colonel I. V. Boltin (1721–1725), except for his petitions requesting a salary—which the Synod tried in vain to forward to the Senate—as well as the Synod’s budget estimates for funding the chancellery, about whose operations under Boltin there is no information [245] .

d) In 1702, Peter I issued a decree permitting Christians of non-Orthodox denominations to build churches and freely perform their religious rites. At that time, many foreigners were entering Russian public service, assuming leadership positions both in the capital and in the provinces. Lutheran and Catholic communities began to emerge among the Orthodox population. Within Peter’s administrative system, there was no other ecclesiastical authority besides the Holy Synod; for this reason, the newly formed Holy Synod automatically had to assume responsibility for these communities as part of its new mandate. No specific decree on this matter was issued by the tsar, and the “Spiritual Regulations” referred only to the administration of the Orthodox Church. The Synod, however, found a legal basis in the tsar’s manifesto of January 25, 1721: “And we command all our faithful subjects, of every rank, both clerical and lay, to regard this (the Synod—I. S.) as an important and powerful governing body, and to seek from it the final administration, resolution, and adjudication of spiritual matters.” Peter did not attach great importance to differences in religious denomination and viewed the Church from the perspective of its usefulness for the moral education of the people in the interests of the state; therefore, he believed that these words—according to which all his subjects were to regard the Holy Synod as the highest ecclesiastical authority—should be understood in their literal sense. Representatives of non-Orthodox denominations evidently held the same view, as evidenced by the fact that they addressed their petitions to the Holy Synod. However, the Synod limited itself to administrative and judicial actions, refraining from legislative measures and thereby anticipating, in this regard, the state’s own subsequent legislative activity, which concerned other denominations far less than it did the Orthodox Church.

The Holy Synod did not establish any special body for these purposes, making decisions at plenary sessions or in the Office of Judicial Affairs, unless it referred cases to the discretion of the civil authorities [246] . These cases concerned Lutherans, Catholics, Armenian Gregorians, and, among non-Christians, Jews. At first, the Synod attempted to gather data on the number of non-Orthodox churches and the size of the clergy [247] . Lutheran communities were granted the right to self-governance and to elect clergy, and from among them, church leaders, whom the Holy Synod merely approved. These ecclesiastical leaders (preposits) were instructed to look after the Lutheran pastors in cities and volosts and to improve all necessary conditions, in accordance with the directives of the Holy Synod and the Office of Judicial Affairs. The preposites were required to swear an oath confirming their allegiance to the tsar and their loyalty to the empire, to ensure that pastors took the oath, and to submit the relevant documents bearing their signatures to the Holy Synod. The Synod, however, reserved for itself the right to confirm pastors in their positions and to dismiss them [248] . The Synod expelled the Capuchins, who had been conducting services in St. Petersburg without its permission, and appointed Franciscan priests to the Catholic parishes of St. Petersburg, Kronstadt, Riga, and Reval. However, thanks to the intercession of the French ambassador, the Capuchins were soon able to return [249] . The Holy Synod authorized the opening of new churches, ordered the closure of those opened without its permission, and permitted the establishment of schools for non-Orthodox denominations [250] . The Synod referred a Lutheran pastor, who had negligently performed a wedding ceremony for a woman who was already married, to the jurisdiction of the relevant diocesan bishop [251] . He forbade Jews in the Smolensk Governorate from trading on Sundays and holidays and from residing in areas inhabited by the Russian population; he ordered their books to be burned and the Jewish school, which had been built near an Orthodox church, to be demolished [252] .

As in other areas of state administration, Peter I was content, first and foremost, to establish a new supreme body—the Holy Synod—in ecclesiastical matters, in the hope that circumstances would gradually develop in accordance with his instructions, in this case, the “Spiritual Regulations.” During Peter’s reign, the Holy Synod remained in the early stages of its development. Under Peter’s successors, changes took place that were dictated by the interests of the state.

Chapter II. The Church and the State

§ 5. The Russian Emperor’s Relationship to the Russian Church

a) Peter the Great’s reform of the highest administration of the Russian Church and his establishment of a state-controlled church fundamentally altered both the relationship between the state and the Church and the emperor’s personal attitude toward the Church for the subsequent two hundred years of the Petrine Empire’s existence.

Taken as a whole, Peter the Great’s reforms led to the Europeanization and secularization of the empire: in the lives of the people and, in particular, in the views of the upper echelons of society. Historians, beginning with S. M. Solovyov [253] , have established that Peter’s reforms were rooted in aspirations that had already manifested themselves in 17th-century Muscovy. Indeed, church reform—which essentially affected only the highest echelons of church administration—was necessary, though not in the form in which it was carried out. Church life required much more profound reforms, and its shortcomings could by no means be attributed to the patriarchal system. But Peter was concerned not so much by the shortcomings in church life as by the danger of dual authority, which, in his view, the patriarchate harbored. Peter believed that this danger could be averted by establishing a Spiritual College. Collegial governance, which Peter held in such high regard, could not in and of itself bring about a fundamental change in the relations between the Church, the state, and the monarch. Had the “Spiritual Regulations” not been a document of purely state legislation, the matter would never have progressed to the establishment of a state church. From the moment the “Regulations” became the legislative basis for the highest administration of the Russian Church, the latter became part of the Russian state, and the Holy Synod became a state institution rather than a strictly ecclesiastical one.

P. V. Verkhovskaya characterizes the relationship between the state and the Church in Muscovite Russia as follows: “During the Muscovite era, with the patriarch’s traditional authority remaining distinct and the goals of the Church and the state being identical, there existed a dual authority (diarchy—I. S.) between the tsar and the patriarch, extending equally over the entire state”[254] . While accepting this formulation, we must not, however, idealize the relationship between the two authorities or claim that this relationship was consistently harmonious. But prior to the establishment of the state church, despite the occasional interference of grand princes and tsars in church affairs, and despite all the conflicts between the two authorities (for example, between Ivan IV and Metropolitan Philip or Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Nikon)[255] , the Church always retained its place of honor within the state. This position was incomparable to that of any administrative agency. It never occurred to the state authority (the tsar)—and this is very important—that the Church was in a subordinate position or that it could be placed in such a position, as Peter’s reform did. The interference of secular rulers—the tsars—in the life of the Church remained within the framework of the relationship between Church and state that had existed in Byzantium [256] , and was based not so much on legal claims as on religious views regarding the duties of an Orthodox tsar toward the Church. This Byzantine foundation, reinforced by distinctly Russian ideas—that is, a close fusion of the sober teachings of Hegumen Joseph of Volotsk and the messianic views of the monk Philotheos (“Moscow—the Third Rome”)—remained unshaken despite isolated incidents. The traditional nature of religious consciousness in the Muscovite state found expression in two facts: on the one hand, tsarist autocracy, which was not regulated by any written laws until the 18th century, was in fact unlimited; on the other hand, in its relationship with the Church, autocracy was constrained by boundaries that were instinctively recognized and respected by everyone, from the tsar down to the humblest believer [257] . This psychological factor reinforced the harmony of the diarchy and deterred attempts to legally codify the Church’s subordination to the state; moreover, such codification was unnecessary.

b) Under Peter, the Church found itself from the very beginning confronted by state authority, which not only regarded itself as unlimited but also, quite deliberately and with iron consistency—even in the smallest details—put this unlimitedness into practice in its political activities. Here is how V. N. Latkin puts it: “Without risking error, one can call Peter the first Russian sovereign to possess truly autocratic power and to proclaim it not only in theory, as Ivan IV did, but also to exercise it in practice”[258] . The emperor’s will and command, in the form of a decree, became the sole source of positive law in all areas of state and public life, a principle first codified in the Military Charter of 1716: “His Majesty is an autocratic monarch who is not accountable to anyone in the world for his actions; but as a Christian sovereign, he has the power and authority to govern his states and lands according to his own will and discretion”[259] . Autocracy—which, from the time of Peter the Great, can be called absolutism—recognizing itself as entirely unrestricted, drew the same conclusion with regard to the Church, legally subordinating it to the authority of the absolute monarch and thus making it a state church. This arrangement was formalized by the publication of the “Spiritual Regulations” in 1721. Its author, Theophan Prokopovich, explains in the introduction that the reorganization of the highest ecclesiastical administration and the establishment of the Spiritual Collegium were necessitated by the fact that “the power of monarchs is autocratic, and God Himself commands us to obey them in good conscience… A Christian sovereign, the guardian of orthodoxy and all holy order in the Church… deigned to establish the Spiritual Collegium”[260] . But these brief explanations were, of course, insufficient to justify an idea so foreign to old Muscovite traditions. Therefore, Theophanes was compelled to write another treatise [261] , in which he attempts to prove that “Christian sovereigns” also possess spiritual authority and may exercise it in relation to the Church: “Sovereigns may be called the bishops of the people who are their subjects. For the name ‘bishop’ means ‘overseer’… The sovereign, the highest authority, is the perfect, ultimate, supreme, and all-powerful overseer—that is, one who possesses the power and authority to pass final judgment and impose punishment upon all his subjects, both secular and ecclesiastical”[262] . In another, better-known work of his—*The Truth of the Monarch’s Will*, published in 1722 and written primarily to justify the law of February 5, 1722, concerning the sovereign’s right to appoint an heir to the throne [263] —Theophan states: “The sovereign monarch may lawfully command the people not only to do everything necessary for the great benefit of his fatherland, but also whatever he may please; provided only that it is not harmful to the people and does not contradict the will of God.” Thus, Theophan elaborates on the positions he expressed in *Historical Inquiry*. He sees the justification for this kind of extensive monarchical power in the fact that “the people have submitted themselves to the ruler’s will before him and have surrendered all authority over themselves to him; and this includes all manner of civil and ecclesiastical rites, changes in customs, the wearing of clothing, the construction of houses, and the ranks and ceremonies at banquets, weddings, funerals, and so on, and so on, and so on”[264] .

Since these writings by Theophanes subsequently played a decisive role in shaping the relationship between the state and the Church, it is important not only to note the justification they provide for the monarch’s absolute power, but also the fact that Theophanes avoids using the terms “Orthodox tsar” or “Orthodox monarch.” He speaks only of a “Christian sovereign” or “Christian monarch,” without emphasizing the Russian autocrat’s affiliation with the Orthodox faith and the Orthodox Church. This peculiarity in Theophanes’ terminology cannot be explained by the fact that he was influenced by those Western theories of natural law in which the divine origin of monarchical power is postulated regardless of any particular religious denomination. After all, it is well known that the Holy Synod under Peter I—that is, in 1721–1725—oversaw not only the affairs of the Orthodox Church but also those of other Christian denominations and even non-Christian religious communities [265] . The Holy Synod was conceived as a collegial body governing the religious affairs of all subjects equally. This was in line with the views of both Peter and Theophan, who reasoned more as a statesman than as an Orthodox bishop. From a psychological standpoint, a mistake was made here. Even upon reading the “Spiritual Regulations,” as P. V. Verkhovskaya notes, one got the impression that Peter had declared himself “chairman of the Holy Synod” or simply “head of the Church”[266] . Although one cannot fully agree with this interpretation, one thing is indisputable—such perceptions existed, especially among Old Believers. For the church hierarchy and for all the faithful, this was all the more unacceptable because the tsar referred to himself simply as a “Christian sovereign” rather than an “Orthodox tsar” or “Orthodox emperor.” A fateful contradiction arose in the religious views of the people, which could have had consequences of a state-political nature. The question of the monarch’s affiliation with the Orthodox Church henceforth became a political issue. This is evident in the laws enacted from Catherine I to Nicholas I. During this period, the sovereigns made attempts to bridge the rift that had formed, emphasizing in every way their affiliation with the Orthodox faith and the Orthodox Church. Bound by law to do so, they publicly, as “Orthodox sovereigns,” sought the Orthodox Church’s blessing for their reign in order to thereby legitimize their rule in the eyes of the people.

Until the very death of Peter the Great on January 28, 1725, there was neither any official clarification from the state authorities nor a new work by Theophanes that addressed the monarch’s relationship to the Church. Consequently, the position remained in force that the Emperor of All Russia ruled as a “Christian monarch.” His personal adherence to the Orthodox faith and the connection between his authority and the idea of an “Orthodox tsar”—which had existed in Muscovy—were never mentioned anywhere in official documents.

Peter’s successor to the throne was his wife, Catherine I (January 28, 1725 – May 6, 1727), who was chosen by the “ruling authorities” and the guard [267] . She and her entourage evidently already understood the need to decisively dispel doubts regarding the tsar’s membership in the Orthodox Church, doubts that had arisen among the people primarily under the influence of Theophan’s writings. In her will of 1727, Catherine I decreed: “No one who is not of the Greek faith may ever hold the Russian throne”[268] . Peter II (May 7, 1727 – January 18, 1730), the son of the ill-fated Tsarevich Alexei, as well as his entourage, was so closely associated with the conservative, church-opposition “Old Russian Party” that there could be not even a shadow of doubt regarding his Orthodoxy. The situation was quite different for Empress Anna Ioannovna (January 19, 1730 – October 17, 1740). She had been married off to a Protestant, the Duke of Courland, and spent nearly twenty years in a German Protestant environment. It is therefore not surprising that, already in the first paragraphs of the so-called “conditions” of 1730, Anna was required to profess (“maintain”) the Orthodox faith and spread Orthodoxy [269] . After proclaiming her “autocracy” on February 25, 1730, Anna was constantly concerned about the sentiments of the clergy, and on more than one occasion in her decrees she demanded that the Church hold annual prayer services for her “God-pleasing reign.” Her Secret Chancellery ruthlessly persecuted all clergy who failed to perform such prayers. Furthermore, all clergy were required to confirm their loyalty to the Empress in writing under oath [270] .

In the manifesto marking the accession of Empress Elizabeth (October 25, 1741 – December 25, 1761), there are no assurances of her adherence to Orthodoxy [271] . This “second Pulcheria” and defender of the Church, as the conservative Metropolitan Arseny Matseevich of Rostov called her, had no need to prove her orthodoxy, so evident were her piety and devotion to the Church to all her contemporaries.

In the manifestos of Empress Catherine II (June 28, 1762 – November 6, 1796), references to her “Orthodoxy” and her zeal for the Orthodox faith feature prominently [272] . She had compelling reasons for this. First, she wanted to emphasize the difference between Peter III’s religious indifference, his inclination toward Protestantism, and his dismissive attitude toward the life of the Russian Church, on the one hand, and her own orthodoxy, on the other [273] . Second, the intelligent empress believed that it was important to remind people of her adherence to Orthodoxy, also from a psychological standpoint, in order to exert greater influence on the public consciousness [274] . That is why the manifesto of June 28, 1762, regarding Catherine II’s accession to the throne emphasizes not the state-political aspect but the religious one: “It became clear to all true sons of the Russian fatherland what danger was befalling the entire Russian state as a result of this very act, namely: our Orthodox Greek law was the first to sense its upheaval and the eradication of its ecclesiastical traditions, so that our Greek Church remained extremely vulnerable to the ultimate danger of a change in the ancient Orthodoxy of Russia and the adoption of a law of a different faith”[275] . The coronation of Catherine II took place on September 22, just as soon as that of Anna Ioannovna, for this ceremony ensured the new empress’s ecclesiastical blessing. Moreover, in the manifesto of July 7, 1762, announcing the upcoming coronation, the change on the throne and the removal of Peter III from power were again justified by religious duty: “This was demanded of Us by Our very office in the sight of God, His Church, and the holy faith… for which reason He, the Almighty God, Who rules the Kingdom and grants it to whomever He wills, seeing Our righteous and pious intention, has in fact blessed it”[276] . Catherine II, of course, knew how highly the people valued Empress Elizabeth’s piety, and therefore sought to demonstrate her own. Thus, immediately after her coronation, she made a pilgrimage to the ancient and highly revered Trinity-Sergius Lavra and, thereafter , never neglected her participation in church life. She appointed Archimandrite Platon Levshin—who later became Metropolitan of Moscow—as a tutor for her son, the future Emperor Paul I, so that the young heir to the throne would be raised in the spirit of Orthodoxy [277] .

Thus, outwardly, Catherine did everything possible to demonstrate her close connection with the Russian Church. She even referred to herself as “chef de l’Église grecque” [head of the Greek Church (French)] or “chef de son Église” [head of her Church (French)][278] . However, one should not look for Byzantine or Old Muscovite notions of the tsar’s rights in relation to the Church in this title. It was merely an expression of the empress’s actual relationship—not so much with the Church as such, but rather with the Synod and the ecclesiastical hierarchy. The empress’s church policy was directed solely at them. Under Catherine II, Peter the Great’s church reform stabilized in the form of a sustainable system of state-controlled religion. At first, the case of Metropolitan Arseny Matseevich (1763) posed a serious obstacle to the final consolidation of this system; however, Catherine skillfully removed this obstacle by resorting to false accusations against Arseny. After that, ecclesiastical administration came entirely under the empress’s control [279] . Now, following her victory, she had nothing left to fear from the Church, whose power had been undermined by Peter’s ecclesiastical reforms and, especially, by the constant pressure exerted upon it by secular authorities during the reign of Anna Ioannovna. According to contemporaries, the fear of a possible struggle between the “two powers” had vanished [280] . Whereas previously the secular authorities’ interference in the life of the Russian Church had often been crude and coercive, Catherine—a talented ruler and skilled diplomat—managed to bring relations between the state and the Church into a system that finally gave Peter’s reforms stability.

It is well known that Emperor Paul I (November 1, 1796 – March 11, 1801) was a religious man not averse to mysticism. His views on imperial power were closely linked to this mysticism. Even as heir to the throne, he wrote in his diary: “The sovereign’s first law is the observance of all laws. Above him are only two powers—God and the law… As for the subjects, their first law, established by religion, nature, and reason alike, is the law of obedience. Therefore, they must fear and revere their sovereign, for he is the reflection of the Almighty”[281] . There is reliable evidence that during the coronation ceremony, Paul I refused to receive Holy Communion from the hands of the metropolitan; instead, approaching the altar, he received Communion himself, as a priest participating in the divine service [282] .

All of this clearly shows that Paul I attached exaggerated importance to imperial authority; moreover, he viewed it in religious and mystical terms. The Act on the Succession to the Throne of April 5, 1797, contains a provision stating that the Russian emperor is the “head of the Church,” although it is doubtful that this carries the meaning often attributed to it. The Act on the Succession to the Throne states: “When the succession reaches a female line that already reigns on another throne, then the successor is granted the right to choose a faith and a throne and, together with the heir, to renounce the other faith and throne, if such a throne is bound by law (i.e., to a specific denomination. —Ed.), since the Russian sovereigns are the head of the Church; if there is no renunciation of faith, then the person next in line shall inherit.”[283] . Thus, according to the law of April 5, 1797, the heir to the throne of the Russian Empire was required to belong to the Orthodox Church. Failure to accept the Orthodox faith was tantamount to renouncing the Russian throne and resulted in the loss of the right to succession. Furthermore, the same law makes it clear that a pretender to the throne who is already the sovereign of some other state but belongs to the Orthodox Church does not lose his rights to the Russian throne, and renouncing the throne he already holds is not mandatory for him. This is an important fact, as it characterizes the uniqueness of Paul I’s views, in which religious considerations took precedence over state and political ones.

Before proceeding to examine the interpretations given to the law of April 5, 1797, in Russian public law and legislation, it should be noted that the above-quoted wording of this law regarding the Russian emperor as the “head of the Church” is, in our opinion, not a postulate but a statement of fact. This law establishes the Russian emperor’s affiliation with the Orthodox Church not so much de jure as de facto, and in this sense echoes the will of Catherine I.

First and foremost, we must discuss the draft constitutions and laws from the era of Alexander I (March 12, 1801 – November 19, 1825). Although they were never implemented, they reveal how their authors at the time envisioned the emperor’s position vis-à-vis the Russian Church and how firmly entrenched were the ideas regarding the relationship between state authority and the Church that dated back to Peter the Great. On February 28, 1804, The Senate received a supreme decree establishing a Commission for the Drafting of Laws. This decree resulted from a report by the Minister of Justice to the sovereign, which also contained a plan for the proposed laws. Although the minister’s report mentioned, among other things, a special commission on ecclesiastical and civil matters, the plan itself contains nothing pertaining to faith or the Russian Church [284] . Apparently, in connection with this plan, the Draft Fundamental Laws of the Russian Empire was created in 1804. Its author, Baron G. A. Rosenkampf, wrote in German, and this original text was subsequently translated into Russian with considerable inaccuracy. The first chapter of the Draft (§ 1) addresses the issue “On the Orthodox Faith” and states: “The Orthodox Greek-Russian faith is the dominant faith throughout the empire. It is based on Holy Scripture and the teachings of the Holy Fathers.” Of particular importance to us is § 10, which addresses imperial authority: “Der Kaiser als Alleinherrscher ist zugleich das geistliche Oberhaupt des Staates” [the emperor, as the sole ruler, is at the same time the spiritual head of the state (German)], which in the Russian translation reads as follows: “The Emperor is the supreme ruler of the entire state and the head of the Church.” While Rosenkamp’s text reveals a certain Protestant influence in all the paragraphs dealing with matters of faith (§§ 1–11), the Russian translation draws on 18th-century traditions and Paul I’s Act on the Succession to the Throne [285] .

In 1808, a work by M. M. Speransky (1772–1839), then personal state secretary to Emperor Alexander I, was published under the title “Introduction to the Compilation of State Laws”[286] . In this legislative draft, the Russian Church is not mentioned even once, and there is no discussion whatsoever of the relationship between the state authorities and those ecclesiastical institutions that were responsible for the religious care of the majority of Russian subjects. In Chapter 4, “On the Understanding of Laws Concerning the Rights of Subjects,” the Russian people are divided into three classes, yet not a word is said about the clergy, which was already quite numerous at that time. In his draft, Speransky completely ignores the Church and everything associated with it. This fact is extremely difficult to explain, especially since Speransky himself was neither a freethinker nor an enemy of the Church.

The 1819 constitutional draft by N. N. Novosiltsev (1761–1836)—“The State Constitutional Charter of the Russian Empire” (“La Charte Constitutionnelle de l’Empire de Russie”)—clearly defines the Russian emperor’s position toward the Church and the relationship between the state and the Church [287] . Article 20 states: “As the supreme head of the Greek-Russian Church, the sovereign elevates all members of the ecclesiastical hierarchy to their respective ranks .” The administration of the Church is addressed in Article 45, “On the General Directorate of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education.” In other words, Novosiltsev’s draft is based on the situation at that time, namely, the existence of the so-called Dual Ministry, established on October 17, 1817. Furthermore, Article 78 states: “The Orthodox Greek-Russian faith shall forever remain the dominant faith of the empire, the emperor, and the entire imperial house. It shall continually receive special care from the government, without, however, infringing upon the freedom of all other denominations. Differences among Christian denominations shall not give rise to any distinctions in civil or political rights.” According to Article 79, the clergy of all denominations, without exception, are under the “protection” and “supervision” of government laws. It follows from this that Novosiltsev’s draft undoubtedly took into account the law of April 5, 1797. The author refers to the emperor as the “supreme head of the Church” and requires that the sovereign “forever” adhere to the Orthodox faith.

Under Emperor Nicholas I (November 19, 1825 – February 18, 1855)[288] , the laws of the Russian state were finally codified in 1832—the Code of Laws of the Russian Empire was created. The Code was of great legal and practical significance for the Russian Orthodox Church as well. First, it legalized the established relations between the state and the Church. The section “Fundamental Laws” in Volume 1 of the Code clarified the relationship of the Russian emperor, as the holder of autocratic power, to the dominant religion and to the administration of the Church. Church administration was clearly distinguished from the general framework of state administration as a separate institution with its own legal basis. Second, the various volumes of the Code set forth the rights and duties of the clergy, which was regarded as a distinct social class.

Let us provide a brief analysis of the new Fundamental Laws. Article 41 stipulates that the Russian tsar belongs to the Eastern Orthodox faith. Article 40 declares the Eastern Orthodox Church to be the dominant Church in the Russian Empire. Article 41 is based on the “Spiritual Regulations,” the will of Catherine I of 1727, and the law of April 5, 1797. To ensure that subjects have no doubt that the tsar professes the Orthodox faith, the law prescribes the sacred coronation of the sovereign ascending to the throne through holy chrismation according to the rites of the Orthodox Church (Article 35). The public (aloud) recitation by the monarch being crowned of the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed (note to Article 36) and the solemn promise, expressed in the form of a prayer, to rule and judge according to the Lord’s commandments constitute the foundation of the emperor’s duties and rights in relation to the Church. Article 42 is of fundamental importance: “The Emperor, as a Christian sovereign, is the supreme defender and guardian of the dogmas of the prevailing faith and the preserver of orthodoxy and all holy order within the Church.” This provision is taken directly from the “Spiritual Regulations.” And only in a note to this article do we read: “In this sense, the Emperor is referred to as the head of the Church in the Act on the Succession to the Throne of April 5, 1797”[289] .

From this it is evident that the drafters of the 1832 Code of Laws did not dare to give Paul I’s well-known formula the force of direct law: it is cited only as an interpretation of one of the articles. Such a formula in the text of the law itself would, of course, have clearly defined the Emperor’s position “intra Ecclesiam” [within the Church (Latin)] and “supra Ecclesiam” [above the Church (Latin)] and would have eliminated all ambiguities, but this would have been tantamount to proclaiming Caesaropapism in Russia, which, of course, no one wanted. Apparently, considerations of this kind prompted M. M. Speransky (who headed the work on the Code of Laws—Ed.) to include this 1797 formulation only as a footnote. Subsequently, clarifying this issue posed many difficulties for specialists in state and ecclesiastical law.

Article 45 states: “In the administration of the Church, the autocratic power acts through the Most Holy Governing Synod, established by it.” Unlike other articles concerning ecclesiastical matters, and unlike Article 1 (on the nature of Russian imperial power), we find here the expression “autocratic power,” whereas the emperor, as the bearer of this power, is not mentioned— , as logic would seem to require. This wording was chosen in case the throne were to pass through the female line. But perhaps the consideration that the expression “head of the Church” appeared not in Article 42 itself, but only in a footnote, also played a role.

c) The status of the Church, as adopted and sanctioned by the Code of 1832, was not perceived by the Russian people as definitive. For the broad masses, the emperor remained the “tsar,” though no longer to the same extent as the “Orthodox tsar” of pre-Petrine Muscovy.

But it was not only nationalist and monarchist politicians who spoke and wrote about “divinely ordained royal authority”; representatives of nationalist circles within enlightened society also did so. As early as 1811, in his “Note on Ancient and Modern Russia” (1811), N. M. Karamzin sought to explain to Emperor Alexander I the significance of the monarch’s “sacred authority” and to demonstrate the abnormality of the existing relations between the state and the Church [290] . Count S. S. Uvarov was somewhat more cautious; in his formula “Orthodoxy, Autocracy, Nationality” (1832), intended to define the character of public education, he indirectly emphasized the connection between the emperor and the Orthodox faith [291] . The Slavophiles’ viewpoint on this issue is well known. The opinion of the church hierarchy can be gauged from the words of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov of Moscow († 1867): “The sovereign derives all his legitimacy from ecclesiastical anointing… The sovereign, anointed to the throne, becomes the natural and inherent defender of the Church… God, in the image of His heavenly Unity, established a king on earth; in the image of His Omnipotence—an autocratic king”[292] . “For the people who make up the Orthodox Church,” wrote M. N. Katkov shortly after Alexander III’s accession to the throne, “the Russian tsar is not merely an object of respect—to which every legitimate authority is entitled—but of a sacred sentiment by virtue of his significance in the domestic governance (oikonomia. — I. S.) of the Church.” At the same time, however, Katkov was convinced that the Russian tsar’s authority was limited due to his connection with the Orthodox Church and his accountability to God [293] . I. S. Aksakov expressed similar views, although he strongly disapproved of state interference in church administration. For him, too, the tsar was a sacred figure, an “anointed tsar,” whose bond with the people was based on a shared faith. Therefore, according to Aksakov, it is impossible for a person of a different faith—for example, a German Protestant—to become the Russian autocrat [294] . V. V. Rozanov writes: “The monarch’s power has a providential character, embodying the meaning of history. Hence the view of him as God’s anointed one, the conception of his power as a grace received from God”[295] . F. M. Dostoevsky, in his *Writer’s Diary*, observes: “Russians are the children of the Church… and the tsar is their father… Here lies a profound and most original idea—a living and mighty organism, the organism of a people fused together with their tsar… And this idea is a force… For the people, the tsar is not an external force, not the force of some conqueror (as was the case, for example, with the dynasties of former kings in France), but a nationwide, all-unifying force that the people themselves desired, that they nurtured in their hearts, that they came to love, and for which they endured hardships, because it was from this force alone that they awaited their deliverance from Egypt. For the people, the tsar is the embodiment of themselves, of all their ideas, hopes, and beliefs… If you will, here in Russia there is no other force that establishes, preserves, and guides us, other than this organic, living bond between the people and their tsar, and everything stems from it”[296] . Regarding the significance of Orthodoxy for relations between the state authority and the people, K. P. Pobedonostsev stated the following: “The trust of the masses in their rulers is based on faith—that is, not only on the people’s shared faith with the government, but also on the simple conviction that the government possesses faith and acts in accordance with that faith. Therefore, even pagans and Muslims have greater trust in and respect for a government that stands on firm principles of faith—whatever that faith may be—than for a government that does not profess its own faith and treats all beliefs equally”[297] . We will not cite here other similar opinions from the 19th and 20th centuries that characterize the widespread view in Russia regarding the religious-mystical significance of tsarist power [298] . This view was shared by the emperors themselves: Paul I, Nicholas I, Alexander III, and the last tsar, Nicholas II, regarded the power of the anointed tsar as a power granted by God’s grace [299] .

d) The most striking confirmation of this religious-mystical essence of tsarist power was the church coronation rite. The Church’s participation in the ceremony of the sovereign’s accession to the throne sanctified imperial power. The ecclesiastical rite of the “sacred coronation according to the statutes of the Orthodox Catholic Church” was not merely borrowed from Muscovy, but was even expanded [300] . Two aspects of the coronation rite are particularly important: first, the coronation ceremony was intended to serve as an expression of the emperor’s (tsar’s) affiliation with the Orthodox Church and the Orthodox faith; second, it was intended to demonstrate that the Church blessed the sovereign in question. The Byzantine tradition, according to which the tsar publicly recited the Creed upon his accession to the throne, did not survive in Muscovite Rus’. It was not until the coronation rite of Tsar Fyodor Alekseyevich (1676–1682) that the sovereign’s recitation of the Creed in the church was introduced for the first time. This was done for state and political reasons as a testament to the tsar’s affiliation with the Orthodox Church in its struggle against Old Belief. Another important feature was the manner of receiving Communion. Tsar Fyodor received the Holy Gifts after the anointing at the altar, after the priests but before the deacons, under both kinds separately, and with the royal doors closed [301] . This marked a return to the Byzantine coronation rite. Peter I was crowned tsar at the age of ten, together with his brother (June 25, 1682), according to the rite of 1676 [302] . However, after he assumed the title of “emperor” in 1721, no coronation followed. By order of Peter, his wife, Empress Catherine I, was crowned on May 7, 1724; the rite included chrismation, but Catherine received Holy Communion like all laypeople. Externally (outside the church), the entire ceremony was already conducted according to the Western European model [303] .

At the coronation of Empress Anna Ioannovna, a significant change was introduced, undoubtedly at the initiative of Archbishop Theophan Prokopovich. As is well known, Theophan Prokopovich played a significant role in Anna’s victory over the plans of the high-ranking officials led by Prince D. M. Golitsyn. As a sign of his loyalty to the new empress, Theophanes composed a thanksgiving prayer service [304] to mark her accession to the throne . Theophan also demonstrated his loyalty during the coronation on April 28, 1730, when he escorted the empress to the altar to receive Holy Communion, and she partook in the same manner as emperors. This same procedure, although it contradicted church canons, was repeated at the coronations of Elizabeth and Catherine II [305] . Emperor Paul I, in accordance with his religious-mystical views, introduced certain innovations into the rite, which, however, were not repeated thereafter. For example, during the coronation, he was clothed in a Byzantine dalmatic, the garment of Byzantine emperors. During the anointing, he refused to remove his sword and set it aside only during Holy Communion. Paul received the Holy Gifts himself, as if he were the priest conducting the service [306] .

The recitation of the Creed, the anointing, and Holy Communion—all of this was intended to attest to the emperor’s membership in the Orthodox Church. An element of the state’s ecclesiastical character was evident in the blessing prayer offered by the metropolitan presiding over the service. This very lengthy prayer stated: “May Your fear dwell in his heart, and compassion for the obedient; preserve him in the pure faith; reveal to him the well-known guardian of the dogmas of Your Holy Catholic Church… Strengthen his kingdom; grant him always to act in a manner pleasing to You; let truth and abundant peace shine forth in his days, so that in the tranquility of his quiet and silent life we may live in all piety and purity.” In a special prayer that the emperor recited aloud, it was affirmed that the duties of the king are of a religious and mystical nature: “You have chosen me to be king and judge of Your people. I acknowledge Your inscrutable providence toward me; I worship You, O Majesty. You, my Lord and Master, guide me in the task to which You have sent me; enlighten and direct me in this great service. May the Wisdom that sits upon Your throne be with me. Send them down from heaven, O Your saints, that I may understand what is pleasing in Your sight and what is right according to Your commandments. Keep my heart in Your hand, that I may arrange all things for the benefit of the people entrusted to me and for Your glory, so that on the day of Your judgment I may give You an answer without shame: through the mercy and generosity of Your Only-Begotten Son, with whom You are blessed, together with Your Most Holy, Good, and Life-Giving Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.”[307] . After this, the hierarch read the third and final blessing prayer. During the Liturgy, the sacraments of Chrismation and Holy Communion were administered.

Russian historian of public law A. V. Romanovich-Slavatinsky remarks regarding the coronation rite: “The basis of the rite of sacred coronation and anointing, as interpreted by our Orthodox Church, lies in the following: 1) to demonstrate before the entire people that the sovereign is the anointed one of God; 2) that his authority is of divine origin, and his very person is sacred and inviolable… The emperor recites aloud the Symbol of the Orthodox Faith, publicly declaring that he professes the faith of the majority of his Russian people… The coronation, therefore, is a ceremony in which religious elements are intertwined with political ones. Religious elements predominate in the coronation of Russian monarchs”[308] .

d) Although the state church system, which found its definitive expression in the Code of Laws of 1832, de facto and de jure abolished the state of affairs that had existed prior to Peter the Great, the sovereigns even after Peter were unwilling to renounce the religious-mystical significance of autocracy. For the imperial authority, preserving and upholding the Byzantine tradition held state-political significance in both domestic and foreign policy [309] . For the Russian church hierarchy, the religious significance of imperial authority was also important, for it provided the state church with a certain ideological justification and bridged the gap between the notion of a “dominant” Church and its actual subordinate position.

Yet even taking all these views, interpretations, and explanations into account, the actual relationship between the Church and the state, and between the Church and imperial authority, was by no means fully clarified. Although the aforementioned provision from the Act of April 5, 1797, and the note to Article 42 of the 1832 Code of Laws were never officially promulgated, the question inevitably arises: did the possibility of a Russian form of Caesaropapism lie hidden in the relationship between the emperor and the Church? As long as the emperor was “autocrat by the grace of God” and ruled precisely as such, the ecclesiastical-political situation could still be mitigated through skillful interpretation. But with the issuance of the manifesto of October 17, 1905, the situation changed completely, as it declared that from then on no law could come into force without the approval of the State Council. This meant a de jure limitation on autocracy [310] . The Fundamental Laws of 1906, which implemented the promises of the Manifesto of October 17, 1905, contained no changes to the definitions of the relationship between the imperial authority and the Church. However, those articles of the Fundamental Laws of 1906 that dealt with the relationship between the tsarist authority and the people’s representative bodies (the State Council, the State Duma) and future legislation were formulated so vaguely that not only did they fail to shed any light on the question of the emperor’s rights in church administration, but they also created even greater uncertainty. This is evident from the differing interpretations of these provisions by Russian legal scholars.

Although this issue was not satisfactorily resolved until 1917, attempts were nevertheless made to resolve it in accordance with the actual ecclesiastical and political conditions. A. D. Gradovsky, in his interpretation of Articles 41 and 42 of the Fundamental Laws of 1832, writes: “The rights of the autocratic authority pertain to matters of church administration, and not to the actual content of the positive creed, its dogmatic and ritual aspects… Thus, the competence of the supreme authority is limited to those matters that may generally be the subject of ecclesiastical administration, i.e., do not involve acts that, by their very nature, belong to the bodies of the Universal Church or the Ecumenical Councils.” Gradovsky attaches great importance to Article 43 and the wording contained therein, which states that “in ecclesiastical administration, the autocratic authority acts through the Most Holy Governing Synod, established by it”; this means that “the Synod is a state ecclesiastical institution that derives its authority from the monarch and acts in his name”[311] .

Here, however, is the opinion of A. V. Romanovich-Slavatinsky: “The relationship between the state and the Church in Russia is, of course, determined not only by the system of Caesaropapism but also by the system of the Protestant summ-episcopate (summus episcopus—supreme bishop. —Ed.), but nevertheless, beginning with Peter the Great—or, rather, with the “Spiritual Regulations”—the Old Russian system of harmonious coexistence between the state and the Church was disrupted in the sense that the Church lost its internal autonomy and became subordinate to a bureaucratic element”[312] .

Russian scholars of canon law could not be satisfied with merely stating these facts. N. N. Suvorov remarks regarding Article 42: “As a Christian sovereign, he (the emperor) is the supreme defender and guardian of the dogmas of the prevailing faith, the guardian of orthodoxy and of all holy order within the Church. This guardianship is logically inconceivable without taking measures to promote orthodoxy and order, that is, without governmental authority.” In the unique nature of these relations between the state and the Church, Suvorov sees signs of the Byzantine tradition, although he is not prepared to call it Caesaropapism. “The title ‘guardian’ was not invented in Russia but was adopted from Byzantium. The idea of guardianship was expressed there in the title of the tsar as “epistimonarch” (™pisthmonЈrchj), that is, the overseer of the fulfillment by all ecclesiastical officials of their ecclesiastical duties, or “guardian, protector in all things, and provider.” The emperor’s ecclesiastical authority extends to what is called potestas jurisdictionis [legislative power (Latin)] in Catholic canon law. In this sphere, all official powers of clergy derive from the supreme authority”[313] . “The Emperor cannot enact laws concerning the faith or establish the truth of Christian dogmatic and moral teaching… The Emperor legislates within the Church—insofar as it is a legal order based on traditional Orthodoxy—without altering this traditional Orthodoxy or introducing new dogmas into it, but by regulating ecclesiastical life in the spirit of this Orthodoxy.” Since the “Spiritual Regulations,” and later also the Fundamental Laws of 1832, established the subordination of the Holy Synod (as the highest ecclesiastical authority) to imperial authority, all laws concerning ecclesiastical administration, according to Suvorov’s conclusion, “are state laws, not ecclesiastical ones”[314] .

The new Fundamental Laws of April 23, 1906, stipulated: “The Emperor exercises legislative power in conjunction with the State Council and the State Duma” (Art. 7) and “No new law may be enacted without the approval of the State Council and the State Duma, nor may it take effect without the ratification of the Emperor” (Art. 86)[315] . These new provisions could not help but affect the Church as well. Furthermore, the Fundamental Laws of 1906 recognized the State Duma’s right to initiate legislation. The only exceptions were the most important laws. But the State Duma was a body of popular representation in a state whose subjects belonged not only to various Christian denominations but also to non-Christian religions. Various bills that were debated or adopted between 1906 and 1917 during the sessions of the four State Dumas directly or indirectly concerned ecclesiastical matters [316] . Of fundamental importance, however, was the fact that Articles 63–65 of the Fundamental Laws of 1906, concerning the relationship between the imperial authority and the Church, did not alter the previous provisions on this matter, despite changes in the state-legal structure of the Russian Empire, which, as of April 23, 1906, was a constitutionally limited monarchy [317] . However, taking Articles 7 and 86 into account, these provisions could now be interpreted differently. N. N. Suvorov completely ignored this circumstance. In the new edition of his *Textbook of Canon Law* (1913), the author maintained his previous position that “the supreme autocratic power of the Russian emperor encompasses both state and ecclesiastical authority”[318] .

Professor P. S. Kazansky goes even further. He equates the content of Article 64 of the Fundamental Laws of 1906 (i.e., Article 42 of the Code of Laws of 1832) with the aforementioned note to the latter, interpreting it to mean that the authority to govern the Church belongs entirely to the emperor and that “the emperor is not a state authority external to the Orthodox Church, but is in fact the head of the Church.” Of course, Kazansky does not understand the expression “head of the Church” in the same sense as “English kings are the head of the Anglican Church”; he goes on to write: “According to the most widespread view, the sovereign emperor inherits in this regard the authority of the Byzantine emperors”[319] . Consequently, Kazansky attributes such a scope of authority to the imperial power that it ends up possessing not only jura circa sacra [rights pertaining to the Church (Latin)] but also jura in sacris [rights within the Church itself (Latin)]. Kazansky’s view stands in sharp contrast to the interpretations of other specialists in public law. N. I. Palienko comments on Articles 64 and 65 in accordance with the general spirit of Russian public law, as he understands it. The latter, according to Palienko, has always distinguished between executive power and legislative power, and this distinction is confirmed in Article 10. Palienko concludes that the emperor possesses only executive power. Although the limits of this authority with regard to the Church are not explicitly defined, it nevertheless follows from Article 64 that the emperor has no right to alter, supplement, or abolish the dogmas of the faith. The limits and norms of imperial authority with respect to the Church are of a religious and ethical nature. They require, as Palienko argues, “the autonomy of the Church and its freedom from state supervision and interference in its internal affairs.” Since the Fundamental Laws make no mention of any special ecclesiastical authority held by the Russian emperor, it follows that he possesses only state authority. He exercises his legislative powers under the Fundamental Laws of 1906 (Articles 7, 11, 86, 87, 107) and in accordance with the Charter of the State Duma (Article 31) only in cooperation with the State Council and the State Duma. This means that state legislation concerning the Church is possible only with the approval of both of these institutions [320] . B. E. Nolde, who particularly emphasizes the clear wording of Article 7, and N. I. Lazarevsky [321] agree with this point of view.

In this regard, it should be noted that the government itself drew de facto conclusions regarding church affairs from the new legislation. The Holy Synod submitted a number of bills to the Third State Duma for consideration, some of which—such as the draft law on the organization of parish communities—concerned purely ecclesiastical matters [322] . At the same time, B. K. Sabler, Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod—who himself introduced the bills—attempted in his speeches to the State Duma on March 5 and 12, 1912, to interpret Article 65 to mean that “Our Church must remain completely free from the political oppression of legislative institutions. It must be entirely autonomous” and subject only to the autocracy [323] . The influence of Kazansky’s viewpoint is undeniable here. However, experts in ecclesiastical law agree with the historian of constitutional law E. N. Temnikovsky that the Russian Fundamental Laws make no mention of any purely ecclesiastical authority. Temnikovsky believed that the emperor is the bearer and organ of supreme authority in the Russian Orthodox Church, and that this imperial authority is expressed directly in legislation and in decrees of the highest administration… Decrees of the highest administration are also decrees of state authority. There is not a single ecclesiastical law that is not simultaneously a state law. The Holy Synod is “a body subordinate to the emperor, a secondary body—that is, a purely state institution, just like other institutions of secular administration. Although the Russian Church retains its internal canonical organization and its own order, from a purely formal, legal standpoint it constitutes a part of the state administration, a department.” The Fundamental Laws of 1906, it is true, contain no new provisions regarding the special status of the Church and its relationship to imperial authority; however, the very procedure for enacting laws has changed. According to Temnikovsky, this change led to alterations in legislation concerning church affairs, since such legislation could now be enacted only with the approval of both legislative bodies—the State Council and the State Duma [324] .

The historian of ecclesiastical law P. V. Verkhovskaya concurs with Temnikovsky’s view: if a Local Council had been convened in 1906 or later, it would not have been able to enact any laws for the Russian Church, since it would have had neither legislative nor advisory powers. Article 86 could be amended only at the initiative of the supreme authority, that is, the emperor himself [325] . However, the imperial authority never took such an initiative. Everything remained as it was. Just as in the days of Muscovy, there was no desire to bring clarity to these important issues. In the popular imagination, the fate of the Church remained closely linked to the belief that the tsar ruled by God’s grace and that his heart was in God’s hands—a belief that was rarely borne out by reality. In reality, however, the harmony that once existed between the Church and the state had been replaced by a state-sanctioned church system, established by Peter the Great and formalized by later legislation. Here is what A. V. Kartashov writes on this subject: “The system of state pressure on the Church—cruel and restrictive of ecclesiastical freedom—was mitigated only by the personal piety of the monarchs and by the government’s support for the external prestige and honor of the Church and the episcopate”[326] .

On the part of the state—that is, the imperial authorities—the Russian Orthodox Church was legally granted a privileged, dominant position compared to other Christian denominations. Maintaining the outwardly dominant role of the Orthodox Church was intended, for political reasons, to preserve the religious foundations of the relationship between the Church and the state that had existed in the Muscovite state as a Byzantine legacy. The same goal was served by the legally mandated requirement that the sovereign belong to the Orthodox faith and by its visible demonstration—the coronation ceremony. Along with the state-political consequences, the foregoing also had implications for the Church in its relationship with the emperor as “tsar”: while from the time of the promulgation of the “Spiritual Regulations” the sovereign regarded the administration of the Orthodox Church as part of state governance, and the Holy Synod as an organ of state administration, the Holy Synod itself—though it acknowledged such subordination—viewed it more as subordination to the sovereign personally than as subordination to the state. The Holy Synod viewed the person of the sovereign in accordance with the Byzantine tradition: the emperor became emperor solely by the grace of God, and it was precisely from this divine bestowal that his authority over the Church derived. This conviction—which, however, was not shared by everyone—cannot be regarded merely as a means of justifying the Church’s subordination; rather, it reflected a desire to preserve the Old Russian view of the relationship between the state and the Church. And the preservation of the religious-mystical element in the internal structure of this relationship became the most important prerequisite for the Orthodox Church’s ability to preserve the purity of its doctrine during the period of state-Church unity.

Although the state exercised its authority in ecclesiastical matters, and the Holy Synod, as the representative of the Church, was subordinate to it, the limits of state authority in this area, as already noted, were not clearly established de jure. This ambiguity proved to be both tragic and salvific for the Church in its confrontation with the state. The Empire could not and did not wish to sever itself from the Church, while the Church as a whole likewise neither wished nor was able to seek separation from the state. The Empire of Peter the Great sought to place the Church in the service of the state and to transform the Byzantine legacy rather than destroy it. Peter’s successors preserved this subordinate, subservient position of the Church, but abandoned the idea of supra-denominational Christianity in favor of renewing the close ties between the autocracy and the Orthodox Church. Peter I, not without the influence of Theophanes Prokopovich, did not attach particular importance to Old Russian religious-mystical views on the relationship between the state and the Church; however, despite the profound secularization of popular and state life, these views did not disappear. In the religious consciousness of the Russian people, they prevailed over the state. The popular consciousness continued to insist on the sovereign’s intrinsic connection with the Orthodox Church and on the constant strengthening of this connection by virtue of a time-honored tradition. That is why it was necessary to draw upon the Byzantine legacy, adapting it to state-political and church-political circumstances.

§ 6. The Holy Synod: Powers and Organizational Changes in the 18th–20th Centuries

a) After the death of Peter I, the governing bodies of the Holy Synod were, over time, partly abolished and partly reorganized. These changes, driven by administrative necessity, were at the same time a consequence of shifts in the relationship between the holder of supreme state power and the Holy Synod; above all, however, they occurred at the initiative of the chief prosecutors, who were gaining ever-greater influence.

Following the establishment of the Supreme Secret Council by decree on February 8, 1726, the Holy Synod was placed under its authority as the highest state body [327] . On July 15 of that same year, the Supreme Secret Council forwarded to the Holy Synod a decree by Catherine I, which introduced changes to its main body—the plenary session. The Empress ordered the establishment of two chambers within the Holy Synod, for it was “overburdened” and ecclesiastical affairs were in a state of neglect. “We, following the example of the labors of His Most Glorious Memory, the Sovereign Emperor, and in order to fulfill his noble intention, have now ordered that the Synod’s administration be divided into two chambers: the first is to consist of six bishops… These members are to be content with the stipulated salary and are not to concern themselves with matters pertaining to the dioceses, so that their proper administration may not be hindered; and for this purpose, vicars are to be appointed in the dioceses, who are to be accountable and report on all matters—namely, on spiritual affairs to the first department, and on secular and financial matters to the second department. In the other department, there shall be a court and administration of justice, as well as oversight of collections, finances, and other similar matters, following the example of the former Patriarchal Department and other departments then under the Patriarchal jurisdiction; and six lay persons were appointed to handle these matters” (a list of names follows). As a result of this change in the organization of the Holy Synod, the bishops—members of the Synod—were stripped of part of their authority. The decree further established the subordination of the Holy Synod to the Supreme Secret Council: “As for those ecclesiastical matters on which they are unable to render a decision, we command that they report to us in the Supreme Secret Council, presenting their opinions; and that they report to another department those matters subject to ecclesiastical deliberation in the Synod, and secular matters to the High Senate… And the archpriests who were present in the Synod are to remain at their respective cathedrals”[328] . Furthermore, on July 14, the Holy Synod was stripped of the titles “Ruling” and “Most Holy” and came to be known as the Ecclesiastical Synod [329] . On September 26 of the same year, a decree was issued prescribing that the second department be called the “Collegium of Synodal Administration”[330] . The following were appointed as members of the first department: Theophan Prokopovich, Archbishop of Novgorod; George Dashkov, Archbishop of Rostov; Theophylact Lopatinsky, Archbishop of Ryazan; Joseph, Archbishop of Voronezh; Athanasius Kondoidi, Archbishop of Vologda; and Ignatius Smola, former Bishop of Suzdal, who had been retired since 1721. Five individuals became members of the second department, including the former Chief Prosecutor A. Baskakov, who was replaced on July 14, 1726, by Captain Raevsky [331] . The members of the first department were equal in rights and duties. Following the death of Stefan Yavorsky, the Synod was left without a president, and now the position of vice president was also abolished. The Synod’s Chamber Office, which had existed since 1724, was closed, and its powers were transferred to the Board of Finance. As a result of the 1726 reform, little remained of the synodal structure from Peter the Great’s time.

Upon Empress Anna Ioannovna’s accession to the throne, the Holy Synod consisted of only four members: Joseph had died at the end of 1726, and Athanasius had been dismissed in 1727 to return to his diocese. On May 10, 1730, the Synod received a decree from the Empress ordering that its membership be expanded to include six clergymen. The Holy Synod nominated eight candidates, after which, on July 21, all its members were dismissed and a new council was established, consisting of three bishops, three archimandrites, and two archpriests. The leading figure in this assembly was Theophan Prokopovich [332] .

In the years that followed, the number of members of the Holy Synod fluctuated constantly: in 1738 there were four, and in 1740, three. Under Empress Elizabeth, the Synod consisted of five bishops and three archimandrites. Beginning in 1740, Theophanes was succeeded by Ambrose Yushkevich, Archbishop of Novgorod (1740–1745). The efforts of Ambrose and Metropolitan Arseny Maceevich of Rostov to reinstate the office of president of the Synod were unsuccessful [333] . Under Catherine II, the Holy Synod was funded to support three bishops, two archimandrites, and one archpriest. The Moscow Synodal Office was supposed to be staffed by one bishop, two archimandrites, and one archpriest. However, under both Catherine II and Paul I, these regulations were rarely observed, so the number of Synod members fluctuated between three and eight (in 1796)[334] .

The staffing structure was also violated during the reign of Alexander I. The new staffing structure, effective July 9, 1819, was designed for seven members: the presiding bishop (the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg), two bishops—members of the Holy Synod, one bishop with the rank of assessor, two additional assessors who were archimandrites, and one archpriest [335] . Even before this reorganization, Ober-Procurator Prince A. N. Golitsyn, by a personal decree dated June 12, 1805, summoned diocesan bishops to serve in the central office of the Holy Synod for a term of 1–2 years. Since then, the composition of the Synod has constantly changed, with only the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg [336] remaining a permanent member. After 1819, the Metropolitans of Moscow and Kyiv became permanent members of the Holy Synod ex officio [by virtue of their office (Latin)]. The members were three diocesan bishops, who were rotated from time to time. Contrary to the approved staffing charts, archimandrites were not listed as members of the Synod. Under Nicholas I, Chief Prosecutor Count N. A. Protasov ensured that the composition of the Holy Synod changed more frequently; consequently, by the second half of the century, it had become customary for assessors to be appointed for two years, or in rare cases, for three years.

The Holy Synod convened for summer and winter sessions. In between sessions, the bishops traveled to their respective dioceses. Under Ober-Procurator K. P. Pobedonostsev, retired bishops could serve as members of the Holy Synod. They were appointed with the aim of neutralizing the opposition of other bishops to the Ober-Procurator’s dictatorship. In 1842, two members of the Holy Synod, who could not come to terms with Count Protasov’s authoritarian style, withdrew to their dioceses, though they did not lose their membership in the Synod. These were Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov of Moscow and Metropolitan Filaret Amfiteatrov of Kyiv. From Protasov’s time until the very end of the synodal period, the bishops appointed to the Holy Synod were almost always those who were acceptable to the Ober-Procurator. Only three metropolitans (those of St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Kyiv) were ex officio members of the Synod [337] . In 1835, Emperor Nicholas I appointed the heir to the throne, Alexander, as a member of the Holy Synod. The appointment of a layperson provoked objections from the bishops, primarily from Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov; therefore, the Grand Duke refrained from any participation in the meetings [338] .

Beginning with Prince A. N. Golitsyn, and especially under Count N. A. Protasov, the Chief Prosecutor gained a decisive voice in the Synod. The Synod’s resolutions were issued in the form of decrees and began with the words: “By decree of His Imperial Majesty, the Most Holy Governing Synod has ordered…” Under Protasov, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor began to overshadow the Synod’s own office. It was in the Office of the Chief Prosecutor that draft resolutions were drawn up and documents prepared for the sessions of the Most Holy Synod. Reports presented at the meetings were delivered by one of the officials of the Office of the Chief Prosecutor and were drafted in accordance with the Chief Prosecutor’s wishes. Thus, all decisions of the Holy Synod were based not on the cases in their original form with complete documentation, but on versions edited by the Chief Prosecutor. Let us quote a statement by Father M. Moroshkin, who researched the entire Synodal Archive on the era of Nicholas I: “In describing the actions of the Holy Synod during such a long reign, it would be most interesting to detail the degree of participation and influence of each member of this supreme ecclesiastical body in the matters before it; but we would search in vain for materials on this in the minutes, which always present only the final, general conclusion, omitting the preceding debates and general deliberations. Moreover, during this reign, dissent within the Synod—even if it was tolerated out of necessity in speech—almost never appeared in its written records. The main reason for this was the emperor himself, who had little regard for dissenting opinions from members of the Synod and, if such opinions arose, would express his displeasure through the Chief Prosecutor—at times quite sharply”[339] . All of the above makes the following entry in Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov’s diary quite understandable: “The late Bishop Filaret told me that when he attended (until 1842) the Synod, every Sunday, after Vespers, all members of the Synod would gather at Metropolitan Seraphim’s residence for evening tea, and during this time they would engage in preliminary discussions of more important matters concerning church affairs before they were finally decided upon in an official session of the Synod.” To avoid arousing the emperor’s wrath, a unanimous resolution was drafted at these preliminary meetings, which was then presented to the Chief Prosecutor at the official session. Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov’s *Chronicle* for 1883–1884 contains many carefully worded critical remarks regarding Pobedonostsev’s system, which the author had studied thoroughly while serving as an assessor on the Holy Synod during those years. Much interesting information about how the Synod’s sessions were conducted under Pobedonostsev in 1886–1887 can be gleaned from the letters of Archbishop Veniamin Blagonravov of Irkutsk (1837–1892), as well as from the diaries and “Biographical Materials” by Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich of Kherson, who was a member of the Synod from 1887 to 1890.[340] The latter spoke quite freely and critically about the sessions of the Holy Synod: “The seating arrangement is now unusual. The customary arrangement should be as follows: a portrait of the reigning emperor hangs in the center of the hall; opposite it, at the head of the table, stands the imperial chair; on either side of the Synod table are four chairs each; the dignitaries should be seated as follows: to the right of the imperial chair, in the first chair, the presiding metropolitan; to the left, the eldest; followed by the next in seniority, and so on. In front of the table stands the chief secretary’s lectern. But since the senior metropolitan is now hard of hearing and hears better with his right ear than his left, he sits closer to the chief secretaries who are making their reports. A reporting chief secretary always stands at the lectern. The other chief secretaries, waiting their turn to report, always huddle against the wall, always standing. The director of the Synodal Chancellery sits in one of the armchairs against the wall whenever he wishes. The chief prosecutor and his colleagues sit, whenever they wish, at the chief prosecutor’s desk, in the first chair at the head of the table. The officials at the chief prosecutor’s desk have never sat down in my presence. In general, however, the Chief Prosecutor, his colleague, Director V. K. Sabler, and Deputy Director S. V. Kersky frequently change places; they approach the Chief Secretary’s lectern when they wish to clarify something, often right next to the Metropolitan’s ear, taking care to enunciate every single word clearly. V. K. Sabler, in particular, excels at this art, as he does at many other pleasant arts; he does not shout, but rather gently instills words and concepts, always beginning with the affectionate address: “Your Eminence…” The discussion proceeds as follows. When the chief secretary reports on a case, the presiding elder almost always pronounces a decision on the spot. For many routine matters, the decision ends there. Sometimes, however, remarks are interjected—most often by the chief secretaries, sometimes by the vice-director, the director, or the deputy chief prosecutor; among those present, most often by His Eminence Exarch Paul [341] , sometimes by His Eminence German [342] , as they are long-standing, familiar members; As for me, especially in the presence of the metropolitan, I tend to remain silent. And this silence is not reprehensible, but rather commendable, since the discussions have never once touched upon my dogmatic or canonical views; and whether they award a certain deacon a medal or a blessing with a certificate is of no concern to me. It also happens that the general opinion of all the members of the Synod comes to nothing.” Archbishop Nikanor wrote to his vicar: “All the power lies with Konstantin Petrovich (Pobedonoscev. — I. S.) and V. K. Sabler”[343] . A particularly apt and angry remark by Metropolitan Platon Gorodetsky of Kyiv (1882–1891), who frequently protested at meetings of the Holy Synod, which he directed at Archbishop Nikanor: “After all, we have two Synods: one is the Holy Synod, and the other is the Governing Synod”; this referred to the obedient bishops on the one hand and the Chief Prosecutor on the other [344] . As early as the 18th century, Metropolitan Platon Levshin referred to his trips to the Synod as “ordeals.” Now, a hundred years later, matters were even worse. Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov writes in his “Chronicle” that at Synod meetings, the bishops listened to reports prepared by the Chief Prosecutor and then signed the meeting minutes—that was the extent of their work. The same Archbishop Savva reports that this was how they handled the very important 1884 Charter of Theological Academies. The proposed additions and amendments were simply ignored. The Chief Prosecutor ordered that a text, edited at his discretion, be presented to the members of the Synod, and they signed the document without even glancing at it. Pobedonostsev’s successor, V. K. Sabler, adhered to the same system, as is evident from the memoirs of Archbishop Evlogiy Georgievsky of Volyn regarding his years of membership in the Holy Synod (1908–1912)[345] .

The Chief Prosecutor’s authority was limited to administrative management and did not extend to matters of religion or canon law. With the exception of isolated cases of canonically impermissible interference in ecclesiastical proceedings, this limitation was strictly observed.

b) Regarding the legislative authority of the Holy Synod, Peter I’s manifesto of January 21, 1721, states the following: “However, the Ecclesiastical College must not do this without Our consent.” This provision was reaffirmed in the Code of Laws of 1832 and 1857. (Volume 1: Fundamental Laws, Art. 49). Thus, all legislative acts of the Holy Synod originated from the state authority—either directly as imperial decrees or as decrees of the Holy Synod issued “by decree of His Imperial Majesty.” In the form of decrees, statutes, or laws, they were incorporated into the empire’s collection of laws. This is how the Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories of 1841 and 1883, the Statutes of Ecclesiastical Educational Institutions of 1809–1814, the “ ” of 1867–1869, 1884, and 1910–1911, the law on the rights of the white clergy and the clergy of the navy, the law on the maintenance of the clergy, and so on. Thus, the Holy Synod did not possess legislative autonomy. Its decrees were approved by the emperor, after which they became imperial decrees issued with the participation of the Holy Synod [346] . Often, the very drafting of future decrees within the Holy Synod was initiated by the state authorities or by the ecclesiastical-political faction dominant in court and government circles, whose representative in the Synod was the Chief Prosecutor. In many cases, ecclesiastical legislation was the result not of the Church’s needs and interests, but of the personal views on the national interests held by the sovereign himself or his representative in the Holy Synod—that is, the Chief Prosecutor. Thus, the liberal tendencies of the era of Alexander I influenced the Charters of theological educational institutions of 1808–1814. The personal views of Nicholas I and his Chief Prosecutor, Count N. A. Protasov, left a profound mark on the ecclesiastical legislation of their time. The charters of theological educational institutions from 1867 to 1869 emerged under the influence of reformist sentiments in society and trends in state policy of the 1860s. In line with changes in this policy under Alexander III, K. P. Pobedonostsev pursued a reactionary course, systematically stripping the Church of the rights granted to it during the previous reign. Numerous laws concerning church affairs (for example, the status of Old Believers, monks, or the clergy in general) were enacted as part of the state’s domestic policy, and the legislature did not deem it necessary to even consult with the Holy Synod beforehand [347] .

On April 23, 1906, new Fundamental Laws were adopted, which contained the following provision in Article 11 (Volume 1): “The Emperor, in the exercise of supreme authority, issues decrees in accordance with the laws for the organization and implementation of various branches of state administration, as well as orders necessary for the enforcement of the laws.” Articles 64 and 65 were verbatim repetitions of Articles 42 and 43 of the Code of Laws in the 1832 and 1857 editions, which until then had defined the Emperor’s powers in ecclesiastical legislation. Thus, one might get the impression that the Fundamental Laws of 1906 merely reaffirmed the previous legislative order. In reality, however, the creation of the State Duma completely transformed the structure of legislative power in the state. Article 86 states: “No new law may be enacted without the approval of the State Council and the State Duma, nor may it come into force without the ratification of the Emperor.” According to Article 87, if the government is required to enact a law between sessions of the State Council and the State Duma, it is obligated to submit it to the aforementioned state bodies within two months. Article 107 states: “The State Council and the State Duma… are authorized to initiate proposals for the repeal and amendment of existing laws and the enactment of new laws, with the exception of Fundamental State Laws, the initiative to revise which belongs solely to the Emperor”[348] .

Thus, beginning in 1906, the State Council and the State Duma also participated in legislation concerning the Church. As a result, the Church found itself in a subordinate position vis-à-vis institutions that included, among others, representatives not only of non-Orthodox denominations but also of non-Christian religions. Practice showed that in the State Duma, especially during discussions of budgetary matters, open hostility toward the Holy Synod and the Church in general was often evident [349] . Professor of Canon Law P. V. Verkhovskaya defines the new legal situation described above as follows: “Articles 64 and 65 of the Fundamental Law of 1906 repeat verbatim Articles 42 and 43 of the Fundamental Law of 1832 and subsequent editions. In the new edition, they have a new meaning, even though the text remains the same. This is because, under the new Fundamental Laws, the State Duma and the State Council participate in the legislative process, and legislative acts are clearly distinguished from administrative acts, which, whatever their nature, must henceforth be subordinate to the law (Articles 10 and 11). Consequently, the words of Article 65 “In the administration of the Church, the autocratic power acts through the Most Holy Governing Synod, established by it” mean: in subordinate administration—or the administrative branch (from which, for special reasons, the ecclesiastical court cannot be separated)—the autocratic power acts through the Most Holy Synod. As for the enactment of new laws for the Russian Church, these can only be enacted with the approval of the State Council and the State Duma (Article 86). Thus, in legislative matters, the Most Holy Synod is now not only, as before, non-autonomous and dependent on the sovereign, but also dependent on the legislative bodies. If there have already been attempts to circumvent them—for example, in the adoption of a new Charter for theological academies—such attempts must be recognized as contrary to the current Fundamental Laws, that is, the primary and fundamental source of law for all of Russia and for everything within Russia. It is very important that, pursuant to Article 86, no “Pre-Council Assembly,” “Pre-Council Consultation,” or even the “All-Russian Local Council” itself may exercise legislative or even advisory legislative authority [350] . “The Russian Fundamental Laws do not recognize purely ecclesiastical authority that is not derived in origin and is independent in its exercise… It is necessary to ask the sovereign to take the initiative to amend the Fundamental Laws so that an exception is made to the general provision of Article 86 regarding a special procedure for enacting ecclesiastical laws, independent of the State Council and the State Duma”[351] . The author evidently has in mind either the restoration of the situation that existed prior to 1906 or the establishment of a special legislative body for the Church—such as a Local Council—with a clarification of the supreme state authority’s jurisdiction over this body. Since the emperor did not take any such initiative, the State Duma set about drafting bills hostile to the Church—for example, those concerning the Old Believers and sects—although these bills never became state laws.

The legal basis for the administrative powers of the Holy Synod was Peter I’s manifesto of January 21, 1721, and the “Spiritual Regulations.” Subsequently, laws were enacted that clarified these powers in specific areas; for example, with regard to diocesan administration—the Charters of the Ecclesiastical Consistories of 1841 and 1883. Certain administrative acts required the emperor’s approval; these included, first and foremost, the appointment and removal of diocesan bishops and vicars. Usually, the Holy Synod nominated three candidates, and the appointment was then made “by decree of His Imperial Majesty,” after which the bishop, in accordance with the “Ecclesiastical Regulations,” was sworn in before the Holy Synod. Imperial decrees were also issued for the establishment of new dioceses, the transfer of bishops, their retirement, and promotions in rank. Reprimands to bishops usually came from the Holy Synod, but Nicholas I often deemed it necessary to issue reprimands personally [352] . Audits of dioceses, academies, and seminaries were ordered and conducted by the Holy Synod. Audits of dioceses were entrusted to bishops, while audits of educational institutions were carried out by special auditors from the Holy Synod’s Board of Spiritual Education. Later, these audits were conducted in accordance with the Regulations of 1865 and 1911.[353] The aforementioned commissioners were required to submit annual reports, which, however, were not taken very seriously by the Holy Synod.[354] . As a result of these reports, audits, and submissions by governors, among other factors, bishops were frequently transferred to other dioceses—a practice that, given the existing classification of dioceses by rank, was considered an administrative punishment. Throughout the entire synodal period, such transfers constantly violated the canonical rule prohibiting bishops from changing their sees [355] .

The appointment and removal of abbots and abbesses of monasteries, as well as the appointment and dismissal of members and secretaries of ecclesiastical consistories and heads of educational institutions, the defrocking of priests and monks, and the elevation to the rank of archimandrite, abbots and archpriests, and the conferral of the skufia, kamelaвка, pectoral cross, napedrennik, and miter were the prerogative of the Holy Synod. New monasteries could be founded and built only with the Synod’s permission; the right to erect new churches and chapels or to renovate old ones was removed from the jurisdiction of the diocesan authorities in 1726 and transferred to the discretion of the Holy Synod. It was not until 1858 that this regulation was somewhat relaxed [356] .

The Holy Synod’s right to supervise theological educational institutions from 1808 to 1839—that is, during the period when the Commission on Theological Schools existed—was severely restricted. This led to the dissolution of the commission and the establishment by Count Protasov of the Board of Theological Education. In later practice, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor came to play a decisive role, handling, for example, the appointment of rectors of academies and seminaries, while the Holy Synod was granted only the right to promulgate decisions. The replacement of the Board of Ecclesiastical Education with the Educational Committee in 1867 changed nothing in this regard [357] .

The following areas fell under the Synod’s jurisdiction: faith and morality; combating schism, heretical teachings, and sectarianism; oversight of liturgical practice; the regulation of worship and the composition of new liturgical services; the veneration of relics; canonization; the publication of liturgical books; and the censorship of theological literature [358] .

The Holy Synod administered the Church’s movable and immovable property. Monasteries, as well as overseas missions and churches, were subordinate to it. Until the restoration of the Moscow Diocese and the establishment of the St. Petersburg Diocese, the Holy Synod administered, in the first half of the 18th century, the Synodal Region (through the Moscow Synodal Office) and the St. Petersburg Synodal Diocese [359] . Among the diocesan institutions subordinate to the Holy Synod were ecclesiastical administrations in the 18th century and ecclesiastical consistories in the 19th century. Under Count Protasov, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor was significantly expanded and its staff increased. From that time until the end of the Synodal period, the Office held the reins of power, determining every action of the Holy Synod down to the finest detail.

According to the “Ecclesiastical Regulations,” the Holy Synod was the highest ecclesiastical court, to which appeals from the dioceses could be directed. Here, cases were decided regarding the conclusion and dissolution of marriage, excommunication and expulsion from the Church, or readmission to it [360] . The Synod heard the following cases: 1) suspicion of the illegality of a marriage; 2) dissolution of a marriage with a determination of the guilty party; 3) blasphemy, heresy, schism, and witchcraft; 4) verification of the degree of kinship prior to marriage; 5) forced marriages of minors at the insistence of their parents; 6) forced marriages of serfs at the demand of landowners; 7) forced tonsure into monastic life; 8) failure to fulfill Christian duties; 9) violation of ecclesiastical order and propriety; 10) apostasy from the Orthodox faith and return to Orthodoxy [361] . Following the death of Peter I, restrictions were imposed on the Synod’s jurisdiction. Now the Holy Synod could impose punishments only for blasphemy and breach of marital fidelity. During the reign of Empress Anna Ioannovna, there were numerous instances of state interference in the activities of the ecclesiastical court, which, under pressure from the state, was forced to exile clergy to monasteries and defrock them. During the reign of Elizabeth Petrovna, secular courts conducted trials against the Khlysts in Moscow and handed down corresponding sentences. Catherine II stripped the Holy Synod of the right to prosecute blasphemy and witchcraft [362] . Alexander I transferred cases involving charges of disturbing order and decorum during divine services to secular courts, even when they concerned clergy; however, Nicholas I returned them to the sphere of ecclesiastical jurisdiction (1841). According to the Code of Laws of 1832, ecclesiastical courts were required to follow the section of the Code dealing with the legal status of the clergy and with crimes committed by laypeople against faith and morality (volumes 9, 13–15). The need to bring the practice of ecclesiastical courts into line with these norms was one of the reasons for the promulgation of the 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories.[363]

Alexander II’s judicial reform of 1864, which was enthusiastically received by the public, brought the public discussion and modernization of the long-outdated ecclesiastical judicial system to the forefront. Meanwhile, it was not until 1870 that an advisory committee on reform was formed under the Holy Synod, headed by Archbishop Makarii Bulgakov. The public closely followed the committee’s activities, which were lively discussed in the press [364] . According to the Synod’s instructions, the committee was required to take into account the state judicial reform of 1864 while maintaining a certain degree of independence from its principles in order to preserve canonical norms. The committee’s report was not submitted until 1873. From the moment of its founding, sharp conflicts arose within the committee between the liberal majority, led by the chairman, and the conservative minority, rallied around A. F. Lavrov-Platonov, a professor of canon law at the Moscow Academy, who later became Archbishop Alexy of Lithuania [365] . The latter considered it unacceptable from the standpoint of canon law to extend the fundamental principle of the 1864 judicial reform—namely, the clear separation of judicial and executive powers—to the sphere of ecclesiastical courts. According to ecclesiastical law, the bishop had traditionally combined judicial and executive authority within the diocese, and the establishment of an independent ecclesiastical court seemed to genuinely threaten to undermine the canonical foundations of the bishops’ authority. On the other hand, the arbitrariness and partiality of the bishops and the Synod in judicial matters led to such egregious abuses that the outraged public insistently demanded the creation of an autonomous judicial system fully in line with the civil judicial reform. The Synod’s Chief Prosecutor, Count D. A. Tolstoy, seeking to limit the arbitrariness of the bishops, entrusted Archbishop Makarii with leading the committee; Makarii had already demonstrated himself to be a supporter of liberal ideas while serving on the Commission for the Reform of Ecclesiastical Educational Institutions in 1867–1869 [366] . During its tenure, the committee discussed at least four draft bills. The final version proposed separating judicial power from executive power: clergymen serving as judges were not permitted to hold administrative positions. The lower courts were to consist of diocesan courts, with several in each diocese; with priests serving as judges, appointed to this position by the bishop. Their jurisdiction included the following penalties: 1) a reprimand, 2) a reprimand without entry in the service record, 3) a monetary fine, 4) exile to a monastery for up to three months, 5) a reprimand with entry in the service record. The next level of jurisdiction was to be the diocesan ecclesiastical court, common to several dioceses, whose judges would be elected in the dioceses and confirmed by the bishops. This court was conceived as an appellate court. In addition, it was to render judgments in more serious cases when the charges were brought by a bishop. Its verdict could be appealed to the Holy Synod. The highest court was the Judicial Department of the Holy Synod, whose judges were bishops and priests appointed to this position by the emperor in a 3:1 ratio. The jurisdiction of the Judicial Division included: all cases involving charges brought by bishops and the protopresbyter of the naval fleet; cases against members of synodal offices; judicial offenses committed by members of diocesan courts; and appellate cases. Members of the Holy Synod were subject to a single court of jurisdiction—a joint session of the Synod’s Presidium and its Judicial Division [367] . The committee’s proposal regarding the separation of powers could be reconciled with the canonical rights of bishops to the extent that members of the courts of first and second instance were subject to approval by the bishops, who thus, in a certain sense, delegated their rights to the judges. In that case, the emperor’s appointment of judges to the Judicial Department of the Holy Synod would likewise have to be regarded as an act of the summus episcopus [supreme bishop (Latin)]; as a result, however, the sovereign’s role in the Church appeared questionable.

Before work on the draft was completed, Professor A. F. Lavrov published a study titled “The Proposed Reform of the Ecclesiastical Court” (St. Petersburg, 1873, vol. 1) and a series of articles in “Supplements to the Works of the Holy Fathers.” He subjected the committee’s draft to harsh criticism, which provided canonical arguments to the opponents of the reform. In 1873, the draft was forwarded for discussion to the diocesan bishops and consistories [368] . Their position turned out to be negative; the responses from Archbishop Agathangelos Solovyov of Volyn and Archbishop Platon Gorodetsky of Don were particularly harsh, while Metropolitan Benjamin of Moscow was prepared to make some minor concessions to the draft. Only Bishop Pavel Dobrokhotov of Pskov spoke in favor of the draft, for which Archbishop Agathangelos called him “Judas the traitor”[369] . As a result of such unanimous rejection by the episcopate, the judicial reform did not take place, and the draft was buried in the Synod’s archives. It was not until 1906 that the Pre-Council Assembly revived the discussion on judicial reform in the Church.

c) The reforms of Peter I and state legislation of the 18th–20th centuries altered the legal foundation of the Russian Church’s administrative and judicial activities [370] .

This foundation had two components: 1) sources of law common to the entire Orthodox Church; 2) Russian sources of law derived from state and ecclesiastical legislation. The latter developed as a result of the growth of the Russian Church and changes in the religious composition of the empire’s population, as well as due to the need for a clearer formulation of legal norms compared to that of Muscovite Russia.

In addition to the Kormchaya Kniga, the sole source of canon law, the Muscovite state had several state laws that partly clarified and partly supplemented ecclesiastical law, but did not contradict its norms [371] . From the time of Peter I, state legislation became increasingly secularized. At the same time, it extended to the clergy both as a social class (ecclesiastical rank) and as a segment of the population, as well as to church administrative bodies, whose activities had to be brought into line with legal norms binding on all citizens. Therefore, it is impossible to view the dependence of ecclesiastical sources of law on state legislation solely as a consequence of the post-Petrine state-church relationship; one cannot fail to see that this dependence stemmed from the general internal development of the Russian people during this period.

The legal sources common to the entire Orthodox Church included: 1) the books of the Old and New Testaments, with the exception of the non-canonical books of Tobit, Judith, the Wisdom of Solomon, Jesus, Son of Sirach, the Second and Third Books of Ezra, and the three Books of Maccabees. The Holy Synod very often referred to Holy Scripture in its decrees, orders, and judicial decisions (primarily in divorce cases), as well as in its messages to the faithful [372] . Next: 2) sacred tradition, contained in the early Christian creeds, the Apostolic Canons, the decrees of the Ecumenical and Local Councils, the acts of the martyrs, and the writings of the Church Fathers [373] , as well as 3) the civil and ecclesiastical laws of the Byzantine emperors, to the extent that they were incorporated into the Greek and Slavonic texts of the Nomokanon and the Kormchaya Kniga [374] . In the 1740s, the Holy Synod undertook the correction of the severely corrupted text of the Kormchaya Kniga; however, since this work was not completed, the 1785 and 1804 editions of the Kormchaya Kniga still contained the old text. In 1836, the work was continued by a special synodal commission, which in 1839 published the “Book of the Rules of the Holy Apostles, the Holy Ecumenical and Local Councils, and the Holy Fathers” (2nd edition—1862) with a corrected text. This book does not contain the Byzantine laws found in the Kormchaya Kniga and the Nomokanon. Since the latter had to be relied upon in the practice of church administration, many decisions of the Holy Synod and consistories after 1839 were based on the Kormchaya Kniga [375] . Finally, mention must be made of 4) the Church Statute, the Service Book, and the Ritual Book, which contain, among other things, disciplinary regulations for monks and the clergy. The Great Ritual Book also includes rules for confession, which were frequently used in consistories when rendering decisions [376] .

The specific sources of law for the Russian Church were divided into two categories: 1) laws issued by the Church, as well as by the state for the Church; 2) general state laws for the entire population of the empire, to which the clergy also belonged, as well as general administrative laws that applied to church administration.

Laws of the first category:

a) The “Spiritual Regulations” of 1721. The first part sets forth the rationale for the establishment of the Holy Synod; the second part lists the persons and matters falling under its jurisdiction and defines the procedures for conducting business; the third part deals with the composition of the Synod, its rights, and its duties. The “Addendum” of 1722 contains rules for the clergy and monks. By the end of the century, the “Spiritual Regulations” had become a great rarity and were practically inaccessible to the clergy, but the Holy Synod evidently found this situation quite advantageous, since in 1803 it rejected the Chief Prosecutor’s proposal for a new edition. A decree from the emperor was required for its republication, pursuant to which the “Spiritual Regulations” were republished repeatedly in the 19th century.

b) The Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories of 1841. This Charter was republished with some amendments in 1883 and served as the legal basis for diocesan administration. The impetus for drafting the Charter was the publication of the 1832 Code of Laws, in which existing decrees and synodal orders were scattered without any system, which made it very difficult to get an overall view of them. The additions and clarifications by the Holy Synod, included in the last two editions—those of 1900 and 1911—concerned primarily divorce cases. The four parts of the Statute contain: 1) general provisions on consistories and their functions; 2) the powers and procedures of the diocesan administration; 3) regulations concerning diocesan courts and their proceedings; 4) the composition of consistories and their administrative procedures.

g) Charters, instructions, and regulations on specific areas of church administration: 1) charters of theological educational institutions from 1808–1814, 1867–1869, 1884, and 1910–1911; 2) instructions to church wardens from 1808; 3) instructions to the abbots and abbesses of monasteries from 1828; 4) instructions to the abbots of stauropegial monasteries from 1903; 5) regulations on parish boards of trustees for Orthodox churches from 1864; 6) regulations on church communities from 1885; 7) instructions to rectors of parish churches from 1901; and finally, regulations concerning individual departments of the Synod and the office of the Chief Prosecutor, etc.[377]

Prior to the adoption of the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, the “Book on the Duties of Church Presbyters,” published in 1776, played a significant role, serving as a guide and textbook for seminaries. The name of its author, Bishop Parthenius Sopkovsky of Smolensk, was not indicated. While serving as a textbook, the book also contained practical guidelines on various legal matters [378] .

In 1868, the Archival Commission was established under the Holy Synod, marking the beginning of the publication of the “Complete Collection of Decrees and Orders Concerning the Department of the Orthodox Faith of the Russian Empire” and the “Catalog of Documents and Files Held in the Archives of the Holy Governing Synod.” Initially, the publication followed a strictly chronological order; later, it was organized into separate collections by the reigns of the sovereigns. Although the commission worked slowly, over time a large number of chronologically organized valuable materials on the history of the Russian Church in the 18th–19th centuries were published (see: Introduction, Section B).

Laws of the second category:

The following state laws served as sources of ecclesiastical law: 1) imperial decrees addressed to the Holy Synod or concerning general state administration, which also included the Church; 2) The Code of Laws of the Russian Empire in the editions of 1832, 1857, 1876, and 1906, along with the resolutions and decisions of the State Council and the explanations of the Senate, which served as commentaries. The latter were published in the Complete Collection of Resolutions and Orders (see: Introduction, Section B). Almost every volume of the Code of Laws contains decrees concerning the clergy or church administration. Volume 1 contains the basic laws; Volume 3 contains decrees on pensions and awards within the ecclesiastical department; Volume 4 contains provisions on church property and municipal taxes; Volume 8 covers forestry; Volume 9 covers the estates, i.e., the clerical estate, which included the secular clergy and monastics; Volume 10 covers marriage law; Volume 12 covers construction; Volume 13 covers public welfare, diocesan charitable foundations, cemeteries, the poor, etc.; Volume 15 establishes penalties for crimes against the faith and the Church, while Volume 14 regulates legal proceedings in such cases and contains provisions on the civil law of ecclesiastical institutions. In unofficial handbooks, the relevant materials were grouped by specific topics and issues. From the middle of the century onward, such handbooks became widely used both among the clergy—who, in many respects, relied solely on them for access to the texts of the laws—and among church authorities, for example, in consistories [379] .

Alongside codified law, customary law retained extreme importance throughout the synodal period, as it concentrated the expression of folk customs and traditions, often very ancient ones. Thus, for example, within this vast state, local variations in the practice of worship were observed. Local differences in the traditional payment for liturgical services often played a decisive role in the matter of providing for the clergy. The custom of reserving the positions of deceased clergy for their relatives became so firmly established that, in a certain sense, it acquired the characteristics of customary law. The custom of appointing only monks as bishops, or the requirement that a future priest marry before his ordination (i.e., the rejection of celibacy for the secular clergy), has such ancient origins that even today very few people, whether clergy or laypersons, are aware that this is precisely a custom and by no means a norm of canon law, although in the 1860s these issues were the subject of lively public debate. The faithful’s reverence for ancient customs was shared by the hierarchy and even encouraged by the Holy Synod. The lack of research on this vast topic creates a significant gap in the history of the Russian Church [380] .

d) At the beginning of the 18th century, the Holy Synod had at its disposal many administrative bodies, which underwent a series of reductions over the course of the century, only to expand again in the 19th century alongside the growth of the Church and the emergence of new challenges facing it [381] . First and foremost, mention should be made of the Synodal Chancellery, which was established in 1721 along with the Synod itself and organized on the model of the Senate’s chancellery. Initially, it consisted of a chief secretary, two secretaries, several clerical officials, and support staff drawn from the ranks of soldiers. The position of agent, who served as an intermediary between the Synod and government agencies, also existed for a very short time. Beginning with the tenure of Count N. A. Protasov as Chief Prosecutor, the Synodal Chancellery became the executive body of the Chief Prosecutor. The head of the chancellery was always a personal confidant of the Chief Prosecutor, who prepared the Synod’s decisions. Even diocesan bishops had to take the head of the chancellery into account and found it necessary to seek his opinions on various matters [382] .

From 1721 to 1726, the Synod maintained an Office of Schools and Printing Houses, and from 1722 to 1726, an Office of Judicial Affairs. In addition, from 1722 to 1727, the Synod maintained an Office of Inquisitorial Affairs, from which one chief inquisitor each operated in St. Petersburg and Moscow, as well as provincial inquisitors and the inquisitors subordinate to them. This institution served as a supervisory body over the activities of diocesan departments [383] . To collect the poll tax from Old Believers and to monitor them, the Office of Schismatic Affairs was established in 1722. After tax matters were transferred to the jurisdiction of the Senate in 1726, a Special Office for Schismatic Affairs [384] was organized within the Synod to combat schism. The office was headed by a Synodal counselor—that is, a member of the Holy Synod—who was assisted by an assessor. Since the time of the Patriarchate, Moscow had an Office of Iconographers to oversee icon painting; from 1700 to 1707 and from 1710 to 1722, it was subordinate to the Armory Chamber, and from 1707 to 1710, it was subordinate to the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne, and from 1722 onward—to the Holy Synod [385] .

Immediately after its establishment, the Holy Synod assumed control of the Moscow Patriarchal Region (known as the Synodal Region) and the St. Petersburg Synodal Diocese, which included the newly acquired lands surrounding the capital. The Holy Synod administered both dioceses until 1742. In Moscow, the Synod took over the patriarchal orders from the locum tenens and, in the following years, carried out numerous reorganizations and renamings in the administration of the diocese [386] .

In 1724, the Monastic Office, which had been reestablished in 1701, was transformed into the Synod’s Chamber Office, which was tasked with managing church lands. In 1726, the Chamber Office was abolished, and its functions were transferred to the Board of Finance, which existed until 1738, after which the administration of church lands was transferred to the Senate. Between 1744 and 1757, the revenues were at the disposal of the Holy Synod. With the issuance of the decrees of November 21, 1762, and February 26, 1764, the secularization of church estates became a fait accompli [387] .

In 1814, the Georgian-Imeretian Synodal Office was established in Tiflis to administer the local exarchate; its organizational structure was modeled after the Moscow Office. Its responsibilities included: managing church property, nominating candidates for vacant bishoprics, handling matrimonial cases, and conducting ecclesiastical courts. Under Nicholas I, the staff of this office was expanded [388] .

In 1836, an Economic Committee was established under the Synod; from 1839, it was renamed the Economic Administration and oversaw the financial affairs of the Holy Synod. In addition, a body responsible for overseeing revenues and expenditures existed from 1833 onward; in 1867, it came to be known as the Audit Office of the Holy Synod [389] .

The Commission on Theological Schools, which existed from 1808 to 1839, was renamed on March 1, 1839, the Board of Theological Education, which was under the supervision of the Chief Prosecutor. Beginning in 1867, the functions of this institution were assumed by the Educational Committee under the Holy Synod, which was headed by a clergyman and also included representatives of the clergy on its staff [390] . Under Alexander III, the Council for Theological Schools was established, chaired by a bishop; parish schools fell under the council’s jurisdiction. It included a Publishing Commission (later the Publishing Council), which oversaw the publication of textbooks and journals for theological schools (in 1908, totaling 900,000 rubles)[391] . From the late 18th century, a Censorship Committee operated under the Holy Synod, whose jurisdiction and operational guidelines were subject to change. In addition, from the very moment of its founding, the Synod periodically established commissions to address specific cases, which were dissolved once their tasks were completed [392] .

Finally, mention should also be made here of the Commission for the Cataloging of the Archives of the Holy Synod, founded in 1865 and mentioned above, with its two collections of documents, which began to be published in 1868 and 1869, respectively. The commission’s work accelerated beginning in 1896, when qualified scholars began to be recruited for a special fee. By that time, an almost boundless amount of material had already accumulated, especially for individual collections organized by the reigns of the sovereigns [393] .

d) As early as the reign of Peter I, the Holy Synod was funded from the state budget, which marked the beginning of the Church’s financial dependence on the state—a phenomenon unknown in Muscovite Russia. By 1764, this dependence had resulted in the secularization of church lands—a logical consequence of Peter’s church reform. Secularization inevitably entailed the transfer to state funding of all those administrative bodies and institutions that had previously been supported by income from church lands. Neither the state nor the church hierarchy showed any interest in preserving the Church’s financial independence. Such autonomy would have been possible only on the basis of self-taxation by church communities, for which they were completely unprepared. The traditional, centuries-old order guaranteed the maintenance of the Church and the clergy through church estates; therefore, there were neither the organizational conditions—in the form of communal self-government—nor the psychological prerequisites for financial autonomy to emerge [394] .

After the death of Patriarch Adrian and the restoration of the Monastic Office, Locum Tenens Stefan Yavorsky, together with the Monastic Office, was able to finance the highest ecclesiastical administration according to the traditional 17th-century order, under which the state did not interfere in the Church’s property affairs, although it occasionally reduced certain items of expenditure. Upon the establishment of the Spiritual College, later known as the Holy Synod, Peter I issued a decree on January 18, 1721, instructing the Senate to provide for the maintenance of the Holy Synod. However, the Holy Synod did not receive notification of the amount of the salaries until September 21, and by the end of the year—regarding the allocation of the budget for its chancery. This fundamentally new and important arrangement was confirmed by the emperor in a decree dated January 5, 1724, which stated that the salaries for members of the Holy Synod and its staff were to be paid from the state treasury. The final, very generous budget of the Holy Synod was established only after secularization by a decree dated February 26, 1764, for a total amount of 25,082 rubles, which was increased again during the reign of Catherine II [395] .

The 1764 staffing tables covered all 26 diocesan administrations of the empire and initially provided for payments from the state treasury totaling 150,586 rubles and 65 kopecks. To be fair, it should be noted that the 1764 reform of church property was by no means detrimental to the diocesan authorities [396]

In many cases, the transition to budgetary funding for state-supported monasteries—with their division into three classes (both lavras had a special budget) and the allocation of individual salaries for monastics according to their rank—proved far more disadvantageous; Overall, government expenditures amounted to 197,680 rubles (later 207,750 rubles). The secularization of Little Russian monasteries in 1786 led to an increase in this amount. In addition, in 1765, the budget estimate included expenditures of more than 16,000 rubles for the maintenance of 27 cathedrals and a small number of parish churches, whose confiscated land holdings were modest. The vast majority of the white clergy remained on the payroll [397] .

The 1764 budget marked the beginning of a permanent church allocation in the state budget, which in the 19th and 20th centuries was known as the “Department of the Orthodox Faith.” In the 18th century, a number of additional expenditure items were introduced: for the maintenance of churches abroad, regimental chaplains, and others. In 1799, the church budget amounted to 1,400,000 rubles.[398] In connection with the reform of theological schools in 1808–1814, these institutions were transferred to state funding, which led to an increase in the budget; this budget continued to grow thereafter due to the establishment of new dioceses, the allocation of state salaries to parish clergy, and other factors. (in 1867—6,683,900 rubles). However, this increase occurred in proportion to the growth of the overall state budget, and expenditures on the Church never (with rare deviations of a fraction of a percent) exceeded one and a half percent [399] (see Table 3). Here is how expenditures changed for the two main categories—educational institutions and the clergy [400] :

	Theological Schools	Urban and rural	Total budget
		Clergy
1870	1,239,225	5,365,678	8,663,315
1885	1,645,683	6,334,921	10,598,716
1897	7,263,091	9,193,574	19,805,687
1901	12,996,676	10,945,019	27,954,151

Since the beginning of the 20th century, the budget for parish schools—which was included in the figures above for 1897 and 1901—has increased:

	1910	1913	1916
Theological schools	3,303,383	3,299,404	8,818,922
Parish Schools	13,121,728	20,223,219	31,414,074
Clergy	14,467,744	15,395,784	14,780,308
Total budget	35,761,012	44,419,959	54,000,000 [401]
Synod

Compared to other budget items, the increase in administrative expenses was relatively modest; for example, in the central administration of the Holy Synod, they rose from 206,409 rubles in 1870 to 379,795 rubles in 1916.

In addition to budgetary allocations from the state treasury, the Holy Synod also had at its disposal revenues from its own property, income from dioceses, and donations. These included the following items: 1) printing press assets; 2) capital for the clergy of the western dioceses; 3) proceeds from the sale of candles; 4) voluntary donations and other collections; 5) funds for churches located abroad and for overseas missions; 6) funds for the Palestinian Society; 7) funds from collections for the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem; 8) capital for the construction and repair of churches; 9) capital for missionary activities; 10) income from property [402] . In addition, beginning in 1809, the Spiritual and Educational Committee had at its disposal capital for theological schools, which until the early 1860s also included proceeds from the sale of candles [403] .

The printing fund consisted of revenues from the Synodal printing houses in Moscow and St. Petersburg. The Moscow printing house began to turn a profit only in 1777, after print runs increased and some of the books, which had previously been distributed free of charge, began to be sold. As a result, the capital grew from 3,000 rubles in 1825 to 443,870 rubles in 1850. From the 1880s onward, when print runs of textbooks for parish schools began to number in the hundreds of thousands, it began to grow even faster [404] .

The capital for the clergy in the western provinces, which were annexed to Russia at the end of the 18th century, consisted of government payments intended to raise the standard of living of the Orthodox clergy in those dioceses to that of the Roman Catholic clergy. This also included revenue from collections for the construction of churches in these territories, and so on.

Revenue from the sale of church candles had long been of great importance to the Church. Candle production and trade were strictly regulated, first by Peter I and later by Alexander I (1808); the Holy Synod oversaw the manufacture of candles in monasteries and the recycling of candle stubs. Revenues increased from 905,780 rubles in 1855 to 13 million in 1905 and 20 million in 1914.[405]

Revenue from church collections was generally used for the needs of the churches themselves—that is, for repairs, the renewal of vestments, the purchase of incense, and so on. Money collected in church collection boxes at the entrances to churches was earmarked for specific purposes and forwarded to the Holy Synod with an indication of that purpose: for example, for the Palestinian Society, for widows and orphans, for the construction of new churches, etc.[406] Dioceses, like the Holy Synod, derived income from leasing buildings, mills, fishing grounds, plots of land, and so on. In 1898, such diocesan revenues amounted to over 13 million rubles, whereas the Holy Synod received 3 million rubles in revenue.[407]

The Holy Synod’s total budget for 1907 was as follows:

Payments from the state treasury	29,300,213
Voluntary contributions and church circles	5,734,386
Church candles (net income)	13,520,979
Rental income	2,976,223
Donations to the church	6,675,944
Interest on church capital	1,992,018
Miscellaneous	3,325,885
Total	63,455,648 [408]

It is virtually impossible to determine the enormous sums that were received by individual churches, monasteries, or charitable institutions in the form of donations, gifts, or contributions. These amounted to millions of rubles annually. Property transferred to churches was deposited in the State Bank and, in 1907 , amounted to 46,008,275 rubles. The interest earned on these funds was used to increase the salaries of the clergy. The assets of monasteries, which consisted of donations, often totaled millions of rubles. The Chief Prosecutor’s report for 1907 lists the annual income of churches from donations as 4,288,000 rubles. Of this amount, 3,361,571 rubles were earmarked for the construction of churches or their renovation and decoration, 628,652 rubles for parish schools and church charitable institutions, and 297,882 rubles for the support of the clergy. This distribution is quite characteristic: it demonstrates the exceptional generosity of the Russian people toward liturgical purposes and their restraint regarding the Church’s social and charitable activities. One should not, however, forget that private philanthropy was extremely well-developed. Furthermore, the numerous beggars on the church porches were almost a church institution. Generous almsgiving to the poor habitually accompanied every visit to church and was regarded as the fulfillment of a Christian duty, containing nothing humiliating for the recipient of alms: both the giver and the receiver did so “for Christ’s sake”[409] .

Unfortunately, the expenditure of the enormous funds at the disposal of the Holy Synod, as well as of the many monasteries and churches under its jurisdiction, was not strictly targeted. There was a lack of sound overall planning that would have helped avoid the excessive accumulation of capital in bank accounts and ensure its prudent expenditure on church needs [410] .

§ 7. The Ober-Procurator’s Office of the Holy Synod

a) The Holy Synod, as the highest governing body of the Russian Orthodox Church, gradually became increasingly dependent on the state, a development attributable not least to the gradual strengthening of the Ober-Procurator’s authority. Two distinct phases can be identified in the development of the institution of the Ober-Procurator’s Office. The first phase spanned the period from its founding until 1803; during this time, the authority of the Chief Prosecutor did not play a decisive role in the activities of the Holy Synod, which still maintained direct relations with the sovereign himself. The second phase, which began in 1817, continued until the end of the synodal period; during which direct relations between the sovereign and the Holy Synod ceased almost entirely, and the Chief Prosecutor, as a plenipotentiary and all-powerful minister, became the sole representative of the Holy Synod before the government, representing the institution known as the “Department of the Orthodox Faith.” The years 1803–1817 were a transitional period during which, under the leadership of Prince A. N. Golitsyn, the conditions and prerequisites for the onset of the second phase were established.

The reason for these changes should be sought not in a shift in the sovereign’s views regarding his duties and rights in relation to the Orthodox Church, but in the process of delineating the powers of individual administrative departments that took place following the establishment of ministries under Alexander I. This process began under Catherine II and was fully completed during the reign of Nicholas I, when codes of law were fully established—both those common to all departments and those regulating intra-departmental relations. A new centralized administrative apparatus was formed, which also encompassed the Church. The police state, with its bureaucratic administration—which owed its origins to the reforms of Peter I—took on its final form under Nicholas I. During his reign, the entire administrative apparatus became fully bureaucratized, a process that did not spare the Church; from the emperor’s perspective, this was not only natural but also necessary. The Ober-Procurator of the Holy Synod, who had served as Peter’s “eye” in state affairs, became a minister with full authority over church administration, retaining these functions until the very end of the synodal period [411] .

First, we wish to address the purely external aspects of the emergence of the Ober-Procurator’s Office and its gradual development into a body of church administration, in order to then trace its role and actual significance in the state’s church policy [412] .

The Ober-Procurator’s Office was established on May 11, 1722, when Peter I issued a decree: “From among the officers of the Synod, select a good man who possesses courage and is capable of managing the affairs of the Synod, and appoint him as Ober-Procurator, and provide him with instructions in accordance with the instructions of the General Procurator.” The content of these instructions has already been discussed (see § 4). Here, in Article 11, the Chief Prosecutor is referred to as the sovereign’s “eye” and “chancellor for state affairs”; he was, as it were, the sovereign’s deputy at the Most Holy Synod. Thus, these instructions served as the basis for the future expansion of the Chief Prosecutor’s authority. He was granted powers which, if he were an energetic and ambitious man, he could use at any time to strengthen his influence and interfere with the administrative authority of the Holy Synod. With few exceptions, we observe nothing of the sort in the 18th century. The Chief Prosecutors of that time did not in any way use their position to arbitrarily interfere in the activities and decisions of the Holy Synod. This can be explained by the fact that the system of government conceived by Peter I was only gradually being filled with real substance. The peculiarities of political development in the second quarter of the 18th century—and, above all, the frequent changes on the throne—did not favor this process. The sovereigns were reluctant to entrust governance, even if only in individual departments, entirely to certain influential “individuals.” Following the example of Peter the Great, the government delved into every administrative detail, since administrative activities were not yet regulated by any specific, universally binding norms. Only the tsar’s decrees were binding on all branches of government. The Ober-Procurator, however, served merely as a conduit for these decrees. In practice, he served not so much as the “eye” but rather as the “hand” of the supreme authority in those instances when it deemed necessary, at the appropriate moment, to steer the course of church administration in one direction or another. This is why we see military officers of relatively low rank holding the post of Ober-Procurator during that period. These were colonels and captains of the Guard, who only in extremely rare cases dared to exercise their own judgment and make use of the privileges granted to them by the instructions. The first decade following the death of Peter the Great was a time of internal unrest and palace coups. The departments established by Peter and the laws and statutes drafted for them were rarely put into practice. One need only recall the history of the Governing Senate, which Peter the Great had endowed with extraordinarily broad powers, to understand just how illusory the authority once granted by Peter had become. The Senate lost more and more of its authority to bodies that emerged with each change of government and disappeared with the next; for example, under Catherine I and Peter II—in favor of the Supreme Secret Council, whose membership partially overlapped with that of the Senate, and under Anna Ioannovna—in favor of the Cabinet of Ministers, which was openly placed above the Senate.

After the first Chief Prosecutor, I. V. Boltin, this position was briefly held by Guard Captain A. I. Baskakov. Then, until Empress Elizabeth’s accession to the throne—that is, for 11 years—there was no Chief Prosecutor at the Holy Synod at all [413] . During Anna Leopoldovna’s regency, N. S. Krechetnikov was appointed Chief Prosecutor on October 31, 1741; however, he never actually assumed his duties [414] . Empress Elizabeth, wishing to rule according to her father’s precepts , appointed Prince Y. P. Shakhovsky (December 31, 1741 – March 29, 1753) to the post of Chief Prosecutor; he was required to show considerable firmness, as he discovered appalling disorder in the affairs of the Holy Synod. However, due to disagreements with “Synodal figures,” he was removed from office; Empress Elizabeth sided with his accusers—though more for personal reasons than on matters of principle. One of the members of the Holy Synod, Archbishop Ambrose Yushkevich of Novgorod (1734–1745), continued until his very death on May 17, 1745, to try to persuade the Empress to officially abolish the office of Ober-Procurator, but to no avail. Incidentally, during the reign of Anna Leopoldovna, it was Archbishop Ambrose who held complete authority within the Holy Synod and personally submitted reports to the regent [415] . During the reign of Catherine II, the Ober-Procurator served merely as a representative of the sovereign. In urgent matters, Catherine was in the habit of consulting with Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of Novgorod and St. Petersburg on matters of church administration. Had he wished, the metropolitan could have gained considerable influence over the administration of the Church, but this was contrary to his nature. There is evidence that Catherine II, shortly after ascending the throne, intended to appoint her future favorite—Prince G. A. Potemkin—as a member of the Holy Synod. He was tasked with “having his place at the Chief Prosecutor’s desk” and was destined in the future “to actually exercise authority in this position.” Potemkin even received special “instructions” and for six years “held his seat at the Chief Prosecutor’s table” (from August 19, 1763, to September 25, 1769). In his youth, Potemkin was friends with Gavriil Petrov and moved in high ecclesiastical circles. It seems he even dreamed of becoming a bishop. Had this energetic and, without a doubt, gifted man assumed the office of Ober-Procurator, the transformation of the Ober-Procurator into one of the most powerful ministers would have taken place as early as the 18th century.[416] Impressed by the opposition of some bishops to the 1764 decree on secularization, Catherine II persistently continued her determined policy of subordinating the Holy Synod to state authority, a policy carried out by the chief prosecutors. And although the chief prosecutors never rose to the rank of ministers during her reign, all of them—especially I. I. Melissino (1763–1768) and P. P. Chebyshev (1768–1774)—enjoyed the empress’s favor and full support. A certain system developed that condemned the Synodal bishops to silence and unquestioning obedience to all the sovereign’s orders and wishes. It was not without reason that Metropolitan Platon Levshin of Moscow wrote with great bitterness about his time in the Holy Synod: “It is precisely to them (the chief prosecutors. – I. S.) that all power is entrusted; they treat us as nothing and not only wish to subjugate us to themselves, but also regard us as their subordinates… Truly, this is the wrath of God for our sins. It is especially grievous that our own superiors not only do not oppose them, but even assist them and race ahead with them”[417] .

Taking advantage of Paul I’s favorable disposition toward the church hierarchy—and in particular toward Archbishop Ambrose Podobedov of Kazan—the Holy Synod filed a complaint against Ober-Procurator Prince V. A. Khovansky (1797–1799). Through Archbishop Ambrose, Paul authorized the Synod to independently select a candidate for the position of Chief Prosecutor. The Holy Synod proposed D. I. Khvostov, who was subsequently approved by the emperor. This is the only such instance in the history of the Synod. During the reign of Paul I, with his rather idiosyncratic administrative methods, it sometimes happened that the tsar, bypassing the Chief Prosecutor, addressed his decrees directly to the Holy Synod . But there were also instances when Paul transmitted his decrees through the General Prosecutor of the Senate, to whom Chief Prosecutor Khvostov also submitted his reports. Everything depended on the emperor’s mood, which was notoriously fickle [418] . In 1803, Khvostov was succeeded by A. A. Yakovlev, who held the office for only nine months (from January 9 to October 1, 1803). He described this brief tenure as chief prosecutor in detail in his memoirs (“Journal”)[419] . In his love of order and the rule of law, Yakovlev resembled Prince Y. P. Shakhovsky. Yakovlev’s first task was to study the “Spiritual Regulations.” But in his efforts to apply the “Spiritual Regulations” in practice, he encountered strong resistance from members of the Holy Synod, and above all from Metropolitan Ambrose Podobedov. During his brief tenure as Chief Prosecutor, Yakovlev, in his own words, had to “defend himself against the venomous arrows of the clergy.” In the aforementioned “Journal,” he writes: “At the very first step, I reported through him (N. Novosiltsev, who had been Yakovlev’s patron. – I. S.) to the Tsar that I observed grave neglect within the Synod and across the dioceses, requiring the swiftest restoration of order and justice.” Yakovlev also found great disorder (arising from Metropolitan Ambrose’s omissions) in the Moscow Synodal Office. According to Yakovlev, Ambrose tried to win him over first through persuasion and then through threats, but he failed to sway the law-abiding Chief Prosecutor. New troubles arose when, by Yakovlev’s order, the “Spiritual Regulations” were printed—and in “civil script,” no less. It remains unclear what exactly provoked Metropolitan Ambrose’s indignation against Yakovlev: whether it was that Yakovlev had republished the *Spiritual Regulations*, or that the book had been printed in “civil typeface.” One must assume it was the former. The matter escalated into the formation of two factions: on one side, the Chief Prosecutor; on the other, Ambrose. Through Novosiltsev’s mediation, Yakovlev secured certain concessions from the young tsar (Alexander I—Ed.), which were subsequently revoked through the efforts of Metropolitan Ambrose, acting through D. P. Troshchinsky. In the end, Yakovlev fell victim to the “poisonous arrows” of the bishops. In his “Journal,” he writes on this subject: “Anyone can imagine how difficult it was for me, with my limited influence, to uncover the hidden motives behind the clergy’s sinister deeds, to fulfill my duty as the sovereign’s eyes—obliged to see through everything without hindering the course of events—to restore justice, to curb the squandering of the sovereign’s treasury on all sides, and so on… I took office on January 1 and considered it my first duty to commit to memory the instructions most graciously given to the Prosecutor General and the Chief Prosecutor of the Synod.” It was this desire to “see through everything” that led to Yakovlev’s dismissal from the post of Chief Prosecutor [420] .

b) On October 21, 1803, Prince A. N. Golitsyn (1773–1844) was appointed Chief Prosecutor [421] . Alexander I’s choice was somewhat surprising. Golitsyn, who was only 30 years old, was entrusted with a field of activity with which he was completely unfamiliar. The emperor’s decision was explained by the fact that during the early years of his reign, Golitsyn had been part of his inner circle. At that time, Alexander was still striving to appoint people close to him to every position. Even S. Runkevich, author of the official work *The Russian Church in the 19th Century*, had to admit that Prince Golitsyn was completely unprepared for his position [422] . Under the new Chief Prosecutor, a former friend of the tsar, the members of the Holy Synod—and above all Metropolitan Ambrose, who remained among them until his death on May 21, 1818—were forced to abandon any resistance. The system introduced by Yakovlev—under which the Chief Prosecutor submitted reports to the tsar and all administrative work of the Holy Synod was handled almost exclusively by the Chief Prosecutor’s office—remained in effect. Prince Golitsyn sought to centralize virtually all matters of church administration within his office. In 1807, diocesan bishops were ordered to report to the Ober-Procurator’s office on all important matters in their dioceses. This further increased their dependence on him. The reform of theological schools in 1808 was carried out under Prince Golitsyn’s personal leadership. The Commission on Theological Schools, formed shortly thereafter, was not directly subordinate to the Holy Synod, but to the Ober-Procurator, who thereby assumed responsibility for the spiritual education of the younger generation. In 1810, Prince Golitsyn became Minister of Public Education, while retaining his position as Ober-Procurator. In 1811, he was also entrusted with the Department of Foreign Religions. Thus, from that year onward, Golitsyn headed three departments at once: the Ministry of Public Education, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, and the Department of Foreign Religions. He embodied everything related to “Christian enlightenment,” as Alexander I and Golitsyn understood it. They saw the task of Christian enlightenment—which, in their view, was incumbent upon both ecclesiastical and state authorities—as the triumph of “inner Christianity.” This view stemmed from Alexander I’s mystical inclinations, which intensified in connection with the events of 1812 and the founding of the Holy Alliance in 1815. Therefore, it seemed entirely natural to merge all three of the aforementioned departments, which, being subordinate to a single individual, were in fact already unified. The result was the creation of the Dual Ministry; it should be noted that in the ministries established in 1802, the collegial principle of governance was abolished in 1803. Consequently, the formation of the Ministry of Ecclesiastical Affairs was bound to entail the subordination of church administration to a secular agency—that is, the institutionalization of state influence over the Church, a development that had not yet come to pass, despite the state’s official adoption of the Orthodox faith. A manifesto dated October 17, 1817, announced the creation of a unified Ministry of Religious Affairs and Public Education. Prince Golitsyn [423] headed the new ministry. The two departments were merged “so that Christian piety might always be the foundation of true enlightenment.” “It goes without saying,” the manifesto continues, “that the affairs of the Most Holy Governing Synod will be added to those of the Ministry of Spiritual Affairs and Public Education, so that the Minister of Spiritual Affairs and Public Education may stand in relation to these matters exactly as he does to those of the Ministry. —Ed.) will also be added the affairs of the Most Holy Governing Synod, so that the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Public Education may be in the same precise relationship to these matters as the Minister of Justice (who, as a result of the reforms of 1803 and 1811, replaced the Prosecutor General. – I. S.) to the Governing Senate, except, however, for judicial matters”[424] .

The Ministry consisted of two departments: the Department of Ecclesiastical Affairs and the Department of Public Education. Of particular interest to us is the administrative structure of the former, since the department dealt with religious affairs of Christian denominations (Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Evangelical, Greek Uniate, Armenian Gregorian) and non-Christian religions (Judaism, Islam, etc.). Three divisions of the department were dedicated to Christian denominations, and the fourth to non-Christian ones. The “Greek-Russian denomination” fell under the jurisdiction of the first division, under the direct supervision of Prince P. S. Meshchersky, who at that time held the position of Ober-Procurator. The Greek-Russian Division was called the Office of the Orthodox Confession; this name, which originated in 1817, became the official designation for the Orthodox Church in Russia (for example, in the reports of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod) and remained in use until 1917. The Chief Prosecutor reported to the Director of the Department, along with the heads of the divisions; under the Chief Prosecutor’s authority were the secretaries of the consistories in the dioceses, the prosecutors of the offices of the Holy Synod in Moscow and Georgia, and the head of the Commission on Theological Schools—that is, the entire diocesan administration and the administration of theological educational institutions. The Department of the Orthodox Faith, as a division, in turn consisted of two subdivisions—offices. The jurisdiction of the first of these included: a) the collection of “memoirs” of the Holy Synod; b) administrative reports of the Holy Synod; c) the Commission on Theological Schools; d) the correspondence of the Holy Synod and the Commission; e) relations with other ministries and departments regarding matters of church administration; f) communications with both offices of the Holy Synod through their procurators; g) care for Orthodox Christians in Poland, in the Orthodox East, and abroad in general; h) the conclusion of marriages between Orthodox Christians and persons of other faiths. The Second Department dealt with: a) matters of the Presidium of the Holy Synod—the dismissal and appointment of its members; b) the summoning of bishops to the Holy Synod; c) the clergy and churches of both capitals; d) the offices of the Holy Synod; e) the dismissal and appointment of the Chief Prosecutor and officials (Chief Secretaries and Secretaries) of the chancellery of the Department and the Commission for Theological Schools; f) the clergy and officials in the dioceses, all incidents in the dioceses, as well as confidential reports.

All reports, recommendations, and resolutions of the Holy Synod were submitted to the minister only through the chief prosecutor. From there, these documents or any other papers were, if necessary, forwarded to higher authorities for a decision. If, however, the minister deemed it necessary to convey his opinion on a particular matter to the Holy Synod, all cases were returned to the Synod for further discussion, taking the minister’s opinion into account. The minister could present his proposals to the Holy Synod directly or through the Chief Prosecutor. Only the minister, and no one else, had the right to submit reports to the sovereign on matters of church administration and the judicial rulings of the Holy Synod. The Synod’s reports were also presented to the tsar solely by the minister himself. The Chief Prosecutor reported to the minister on matters concerning relations with various departments during sessions of the Holy Synod. A special table was set up for the minister in the Assembly Hall, at which the Chief Prosecutor also sat. In all other respects, the instructions to the Chief Prosecutor repeated those of 1722. The only difference was that the Chief Prosecutor was now subordinate to the minister, just as the Chief Prosecutors of the Senate were subordinate to the Attorney General, that is, the Minister of Justice. All administrative work for both offices was concentrated in the hands of the Chief Prosecutor. Of particular significance was the fact that the secretaries of the ecclesiastical consistories were also subordinate to the Chief Prosecutor, since, as a result, the diocesan administrations were in the closest contact with the Chief Prosecutor in St. Petersburg. It is clear that the secretaries, who were entirely dependent on the Chief Prosecutor, sought his favor and paid far more attention to his opinion than to the orders of the bishops. Thus, the reform of 1817 provided the Chief Prosecutor with new opportunities to influence diocesan administration. This arrangement was formalized in 1841 by the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories [425] . However, the power of the bureaucracy was strengthened not only by the administrative reform; the extraordinary zeal with which Prince Golitsyn attended to church affairs played a much greater role. Filaret Drozdov, who later became Metropolitan of Moscow, had already gained the prince’s favor even before the 1817 reform; at that time, he had been ordained a bishop and played a major role in the Commission on Ecclesiastical Schools. Filaret Drozdov was very pleased with the new reform and hailed Prince Golitsyn as “the locum tenens of the external bishop (i.e., the emperor—Ed.)”[426] . However, later, during the time of Count Protasov, he felt the bitter consequences of this reform. Metropolitan Ambrose of St. Petersburg did not have to deal with the new Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs. On March 26, 1818, he submitted a request for resignation on grounds of ill health and died on May 21 of that same year while serving as Metropolitan of Novgorod. His successor, Metropolitan Mikhail Desnitsky of Novgorod and St. Petersburg (1818–1821), was a man of sincere piety, a mystical soul, and a kind-hearted preacher, widely beloved by the people [427] . For a long time before becoming a monk, he served as an ordinary parish priest and was ill-suited for the role of chairman of the Holy Synod and champion of the Church’s rights. His relationship with Prince Golitsyn was always very strained.

Although the Ministry of Spiritual Affairs did not last long, its significance for subsequent history was decisive. The reform of 1817 made the Office of the Chief Prosecutor an integral part of the state ministry of church administration, and, after the post of minister was abolished, its functions, by virtue of inertia, effectively passed to the Chief Prosecutor.

The disagreements between the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Prince Golitsyn, which had already existed during Mikhail Desnitsky’s tenure, became insurmountable following the appointment of Seraphim Glagolevsky (1821–1843) as Metropolitan of St. Petersburg [428] . Metropolitan Seraphim was an energetic man with conservative views. He opposed the Bible Society, the translation of the Holy Scriptures into Russian, and the mystical elements that Prince Golitsyn sought to introduce into the life of the Church. Shortly before his death, Metropolitan Michael had already written to Emperor Alexander I about the danger that Prince Golitsyn’s views and activities posed to the Orthodox Church. Metropolitan Seraphim succeeded in convincing the tsar of the harmful nature of Golitsyn’s policies. He pointed out that Golitsyn, as Minister of Public Education, had permitted the printing of books that contradicted the teachings of the Orthodox Church. On May 15, 1824, Prince Golitsyn was removed from his post as Minister of Public Education and replaced by Admiral A. S. Shishkov. The Holy Synod was informed of this by a special decree: “Having appointed a special Minister of Public Education, we decree: until the appointment of a Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, the affairs of the Holy Governing Synod shall proceed in the same manner as they did prior to the establishment of the ministry on October 24, 1817”[429] . The appointment of a Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, however, never took place. A new decree dated August 24, 1824, stated that Chief Prosecutor Prince P. S. Meshchersky would remain the independent head of the Department of the Orthodox Faith in accordance with the decree of May 15, 1824. It was also reported that the Minister of Justice, the Attorney General of the Senate—who is responsible for the order of administrative proceedings in all departments—had been informed of this. Prince Meshchersky requested clarification, and therefore the decree continues as follows: “As for the First Division of the former Department of Ecclesiastical Affairs, it is the will of His Imperial Majesty that it remain in its present status under the name of the Division of Ecclesiastical Affairs of the Greek-Russian Faith under the Chief Prosecutor of the Most Holy Synod”[430] . Thus, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod was reestablished as an independent institution. The Chief Prosecutor’s personal reports to the emperor were resumed. Since the powers of the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs were not revoked in either of the 1824 decrees, they were, by virtue of the 1817 decree, effectively transferred to the Chief Prosecutor.

Under Nicholas I, the Chief Prosecutor’s authority was strengthened in every respect. Chief Prosecutor Prince P. S. Meshchersky (November 14, 1817 – May 15, 1824, as part of the Dual Ministry; independently, from May 15 or August 24, 1824, until April 2, 1833) was a man of a new era, an opponent of all innovations and changes. As an admirer of Metropolitans Seraphim Glagolevsky and Filaret Drozdov, he governed the Synod with a gentle hand. A contemporary of the prince, Professor D. I. Rostislavov of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy—who, however, was not particularly objective—wrote of him: “Prince Meshchersky was a kind, gentle, and peace-loving man; he never even considered entering into a struggle with the hierarchical monastic faction (meaning the members of the Synod. — I. S.)… The monastic community could not have wished for a better chief prosecutor; under him, the monastic community operated with a great deal of autonomy within the Holy Synod”[431] . However, the concept of autonomy during the reign of Nicholas I was quite relative, and therefore Rostislavov’s statement should be understood to mean that Prince Meshchersky knew how to get along with the members of the Holy Synod while carrying out the orders of Nicholas I. But his lenient leadership, which had led to the complete disorganization of the synodal chancelleries, soon came to an end.

Meshchersky was succeeded by S. D. Nechaev (April 10, 1833 – June 25, 1836). The new Chief Prosecutor, a typical bureaucrat, drew the tsar’s attention with his precise and clear reports. Priest M. Ya. Moroshkin, a historian of the Holy Synod during the reign of Nicholas I, writes of him: “S. D. Nechaev is a man of extraordinary abilities, with a rather enlightened view of matters, and, moreover, with a lively character and a highly active disposition.” His energy was evident above all in the fact that he brought order to the chancelleries, delved into the affairs of the dioceses, and conducted audits of the ecclesiastical consistories. He paid particular attention to the disorder that prevailed in the consistories, and this had very positive consequences. Nechaev began drafting a charter for the ecclesiastical consistories, having first compiled all relevant legal provisions and drawn up a register of the Holy Synod’s decrees approved by the highest authority. He established control over the Synod’s finances and prepared for the incorporation of the Uniates into the Russian Orthodox Church . Nechaev was, above all, a clerk and a bureaucrat, a lover of order and meticulous reports. His work served his successor, Count Protasov, well [432] . Professor Rostislavov speaks very highly of Nechaev: “In general, Nechaev’s methods revealed him to be far from a mere servant of the metropolitans and bishops… He wanted to be the sovereign’s eyes and the steward of state affairs, to improve religious and educational institutions and the status of the White clergy, to limit the arbitrariness of diocesan authorities, and so on and so forth… In his capacity as Chief Prosecutor, he had the desire and the ability to do much good for the secular clergy and for religious educational institutions, but not for the monastic order”[433] . As early as Nechayev’s time, in 1835, an important decree by Nicholas I came into force, according to which the Chief Prosecutor was required to present reports on matters of church administration to the Committee of Ministers and the State Council, which effectively made him a member of the Committee of Ministers [434] .

Major General Count N. A. Protasov succeeded Nechaev as Chief Prosecutor. The latter secured this position through clever intrigues [435] . He was completely uninformed about Church affairs and, judging by his past life, was entirely unsuitable for the position of Chief Prosecutor. Educated by a Jesuit tutor, he lacked sufficient education, and his Catholic influence was very evident. Protasov was appointed on July 26, 1836, and remained in the post of Chief Prosecutor until his death on January 15, 1855.[436] Under him, the transformation of the Chief Prosecutor into the sole head of the entire church administration was finally completed; numerous changes also took place within this sphere, as has already been discussed (see § 6). Of fundamental importance was the establishment on August 1, 1836, of a special office of the Chief Prosecutor, which was granted the authority to resolve all matters pertaining to church administration. On November 14 of the same year, a Financial Committee was created, subordinate to the Chief Prosecutor and consisting exclusively of government officials. On March 1, 1839, this committee was reorganized into the Administrative Office, subordinate to the Office of the Chief Prosecutor. The entire administrative apparatus of the Church was so heavily centralized that all its reins ended up in the hands of the Chief Prosecutor. Numerous administrative bodies and officials severely limited the effectiveness of the Holy Synod’s sessions. All matters were first discussed in the Office of the Chief Prosecutor and only then submitted to the Synod for consideration. Here is what Priest M. Ya. Moroshkin writes about this: “Empowered by the sovereign’s trust, he barely concealed his desire to rule the Synod autocratically and control everything… Protasov even harbored a certain prejudice against the bishops… The main—albeit secret—goal of Protasov’s reforms—to strengthen his personal power at the expense of the rights of the Synod members—was fully achieved, and this had an impact on the entire proceedings of the Synod.” The same researcher, based on his study of archival material on the “Protasov era,” concluded that “in the Synod’s chancellery (i.e., that of the Ober-Procurator. — I. S.), the resolutions of the members were frequently altered either by Protasov himself, or by Voitsekhovich (the head of the office—I. S.), and even by the chief secretaries and secretaries; and this, of course, would have been impossible had the minute-taker officially recorded the opinions on every case reported to the Synod”[437] . A well-known catchphrase attributed to a certain bishop—erroneously attributed to Filaret Drozdov—claims that Protasov “commanded the assembly of bishops like a squadron on a training exercise”[438] . Indeed, these words accurately convey the sheer boundlessness of Protasov’s authority. His directives resembled military orders, yet they were entirely in keeping with the administrative methods of the time. Military discipline and unquestioning obedience to orders from above were taken for granted. It was a time when government approval was required for even the smallest administrative matter. Protasov quickly realized that Nicholas encouraged any military-style organization. Therefore, he not only wanted to reorganize church administration along military lines but also sought to ensure that the entire life of the Church was imbued with a military spirit. Tsarist Russia was so vast that the new administrative methods introduced by Protasov were implemented extremely slowly in remote dioceses; however, it cannot be denied that they were indeed being implemented. To be fair, it must be acknowledged that Protasov’s struggle against red tape in the financial management of theological schools brought considerable benefit. Some of his contemporaries spoke very highly of him in this regard [439] . Another point is also important. Thanks to Protasov’s energy, many decrees were carried out that, without him, would have gathered dust in the archives of the Presence for many years. This will be discussed in detail in due course. Here we will only briefly touch upon a few points. In addition to the reorganization of the central administration, the following measures were implemented under Protasov: 1) the reunification of the Uniates with the Orthodox Church; 2) support for the parish clergy, for whom more was done under Nicholas I than ever before; 3) the establishment of new dioceses in western Russia; 4) the publication of the Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories; 5) the reform of theological schools in accordance with the spirit of the regime of the time; 6) audits of dioceses and many other measures aimed at establishing uniform methods of administration and record-keeping [440] . It goes without saying that Protasov’s activities and methods could in no way count on the support of the higher clergy. The lower clergy, however, were on his side, since his audits curbed the bishops’ absolute power. During the reign of Nicholas I, it was dangerous to show even the slightest opposition to a minister who, moreover, enjoyed the monarch’s unlimited trust. As a result, Metropolitans Filaret Drozdov and Filaret Amfiteatrov withdrew entirely to their dioceses. Other bishops who dared to resist Protasov were forced to leave the Holy Synod. On the occasion of Protasov’s death on January 15, 1855, Archimandrite Porphyry Uspensky, who was regarded among the bishops as a “liberal,” wrote: “Sic transit gloria mundi! Est Deus, qui ad Suum Terribile judicium appellat homines, usurpantes sanctae Ecclesiae jura” [Thus passes the glory of this world! Truly, there is a God who summons to His Last Judgment those who encroach upon the rights of the Holy Church (Latin)][441] . These words could serve as an epitaph for the all-powerful Chief Prosecutor.

After Count Protasov’s death, the head of his chancellery, A. I. Karasevsky, was appointed first as deputy and then, on December 25, 1855, as Chief Prosecutor [442] . The general changes in domestic policy that followed Alexander II’s accession to the throne initially had no effect on church administration. From September 20, 1856, to February 28, 1862, the position of Chief Prosecutor was held by Count A. P. Tolstoy, a devout man and a loyal admirer of Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow. As a result, Metropolitan Filaret gained considerable influence in matters of church administration. At the same time, the Ober-Procurator’s dictatorial rule noticeably softened [443] . Count Tolstoy was succeeded by Adjutant General A. P. Akhmatov (1862–June 3, 1865), during whose tenure Metropolitan Filaret retained his influence. “In essence, there is nothing for a historian to say about these two chief prosecutors,” remarks the official author [444] . However, it will later become clear that this is not entirely true. During their tenure, several reforms were drafted, although they were never implemented due to Metropolitan Filaret’s excessive caution.

With the appointment of Count D. A. Tolstoy (June 3, 1865 – April 23, 1880; † April 29, 1889) to the post of Chief Prosecutor, a man took office who, at first glance, seemed much closer to spiritual matters than his predecessors—the generals. Meanwhile, D. A. Tolstoy was completely indifferent to matters of faith, essentially unfamiliar with Orthodox doctrine, and hostile toward monasticism and the episcopate, as attested by his contemporaries, Metropolitan Isidor Nikolsky of St. Petersburg and Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov of Tver. “Gog and Magog”—that is what the well-known defender of the Orthodox Church, A. N. Muravyov, called him. Because of his convictions and his attempts to carry out “liberal” reforms, Tolstoy could not have been to the liking of the higher clergy [445] . These “liberal” reforms, in the eyes of the bishops, concerned theological schools and ecclesiastical courts. Previously, Tolstoy had been an official in the Department of Ecclesiastical Affairs and Foreign Religions of the Ministry of the Interior, known as the author of a study on Catholicism in Russia prior to Nicholas I. In 1866, Tolstoy also became Minister of Public Education and remained in that post until 1880; it seemed as though the days of Prince Golitsyn were returning. But there was a profound difference between Golitsyn and Tolstoy, rooted in the very foundation of their spirituality and, consequently, in their convictions. In a certain sense, they were polar opposites. Tolstoy was completely alien to the mystical dreaminess and enthusiasm characteristic of Golitsyn. He was a typical, hard-nosed St. Petersburg bureaucrat who believed that the same reforms should be implemented in the Church as in the state as a whole. And although Tolstoy was by no means a liberal, a situation arose in which he became the initiator of various innovations in the life of the clergy. Under the influence of the reform of secular schools, a reform of theological seminaries was also carried out. In addition, a plan for reforming the ecclesiastical courts was being developed, though it was never implemented (see § 6). Finally, plans were being drawn up for measures intended to put an end to the insularity of the clergy as a social class, and much more. Therefore, it is difficult for a historian to agree with the opinion of Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov—who was raised in the spirit of Filaret—regarding “ill-conceived innovations”[446] . While under Count D. A. Tolstoy the Church did suffer from the Ober-Procurator’s authority, it was precisely thanks to this authority that reforms were carried out which helped overcome the conservatism of the episcopate and benefited theological schools and the parish clergy. Thus, the upsurge of the 1860s, which swept through all strata of society, did not leave the Church unaffected.

From the mid-1860s onward, the Chief Prosecutor participated in meetings of the Committee of Ministers, submitted reports to the emperor, and continued to hold all the reins of day-to-day church administration in his hands. Tolstoy was removed from the post of Chief Prosecutor even before Alexander III ascended the throne. His place was taken by a man who, it seems, more than any of his predecessors, embodies the concept of state-sanctioned religion [447] .

c) K. P. Pobedonostsev (born in 1827, † March 10, 1907) was the son of a Moscow professor. He received a higher legal education (1841–1846) and in 1866 took up the post of chief prosecutor in one of the Moscow departments of the Senate, while simultaneously serving as a professor of civil law at Moscow University. In 1871, he became a member of the State Council, and on April 24, 1880, he was appointed chief prosecutor of the Holy Synod. Pobedonostsev, a lawyer and legal scholar [448] , was never able to overcome the formalism inherent in his thinking. Another characteristic trait of Pobedonostsev was his extraordinary conservatism, which led him to overestimate the past and view his own era with skepticism. Memories of the reign of Nicholas I, with its militaristic methods of governance, always evoked a sense of nostalgia in him. Pobedonostsev held up this past, of which he dreamed, as an ideal for the reign of Alexander III. In early 1883, he wrote to Alexander: “That was the clearest and most brilliant period of Emperor Nicholas’s reign… There are times when the road ahead stretches out as a broad path and it is clear where to go. There are other times when there is fog ahead and swamps all around. Whether it is that time or the present—what difference does it make?—it is as if the whole world around us has changed.” Pobedonostsev considered the reforms of Alexander II a “criminal mistake,” as he put it in his famous speech on March 8, 1881, in the presence of Emperor Alexander III. Regarding Count Loris-Melikov’s draft constitution, Pobedonostsev wrote to the tsar: “A Russian’s blood runs cold at the very thought of what would result from the implementation of the draft by Count Loris-Melikov and his friends. Count Ignatiev’s subsequent fantasy was even more absurd, albeit under the guise of the respectable form of a Zemsky Sobor.” The constitution, Pobedonostsev continues, is “the most terrible danger I foresee for my fatherland and for Your Majesty personally”[449] . Such political views brought Pobedonostsev even closer to the reigning monarch, an advocate of unlimited autocracy and an opponent of his father’s reforms.

The spiritual character of this man, who became a symbol of an entire era in the governance of the Church and, indeed, in the governance of the state as a whole—the “Pobedonostsev era”—remains, as G. Florovsky aptly observed, enigmatic and poorly understood to us [450] . Pobedonostsev could navigate only within schemes, and his ideals were far removed from reality. Even the Russia he so desperately wanted to save from the danger of a constitution seemed to him cold and lifeless. “Immense Russia consists of deserts,” he wrote in one of his letters to Alexander III [451] . Pobedonostsev administered the Russian Church but did nothing to correct its shortcomings. Although he headed the church administration and openly acknowledged that the religious life of the people took place in churches “lost in the depths of the forests and the vastness of the fields”[452] , in his capacity as Chief Prosecutor he made no effort whatsoever to provide spiritual guidance to this people “lost in the depths of the forests.” Moreover, he sought to eliminate any possibility of cultural activity on the part of bishops and the clergy and monitored the election of bishops with suspicion, wishing to ensure that no one anywhere would attempt to undermine the established order. He could come to terms with inevitable additions and amendments to the existing structure of the Church—such as the establishment of parish schools—but he would never have dared to carry out fundamental reforms [453] . Against his will, he became the architect of a new era—namely, the era named after him, with its distinctive religious atmosphere. One of the most educated members of the clergy in the second half of the 19th century, Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich, after one of the sessions of the Holy Synod in 1887, noted that Pobedonostsev, through his methods of governance, had introduced “something new, a new trend”—not merely the opposite of the era of Alexander II, but, in fact, something entirely different.[454] [455]^.From Pobedonostsev’s time onward, the moral and religious education of the people, which had been in the hands of the Orthodox Church, was required to conform to state ideology. The actual religious education of the faithful, which was the direct responsibility of the Church, was deemed reprehensible.

Pobedonostsev knew his bishops better than his predecessors did. He corresponded with them regularly, as if to show that he valued their opinions. However, as Archbishop Nikanor caustically notes in his “Notes,” every bishop, before replying to Pobedonostsev, “checked to see which way the wind was blowing here in St. Petersburg”[456] . The bishops tried to avoid any conflict with the all-powerful Chief Prosecutor and therefore never openly expressed their own opinions. Moreover, it is difficult to imagine that Pobedonostsev would have taken the views of the hierarchs into account in any way. Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky († 1946), who served under Pobedonostsev ( ) at the beginning of his career, writes in his memoirs: “Pobedonostsev did not trust the Russian hierarchy (and trusted very few people in general), did not respect it, and recognized only external state power”[457] . This was no secret to the Russian clergy, as evidenced by Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov’s candid admission to one of Pobedonostsev’s closest associates, A. V. Gavrilov, an official in his chancellery. Usually, the archbishop—a protégé of Filaret—was quite cautious in his letters, but after reading I. A. Chistovich’s book *Leading Figures in Religious Education in Russia in the First Half of the Current Century* (St. Petersburg, 1894), he, filled with bitterness, wrote shortly before his death: “I. A. Chistovich’s posthumous work, in my opinion, is nothing other than a sad monument to the shameful struggle of the Office of the Chief Prosecutor against the Synod and, more generally, against the hierarchy in the first half of the 19th century. Unfortunately, such a struggle—though with a significant advantage on one side—continues in the second half of the passing century and will, of course, continue indefinitely”[458] .

German Dalton, who served for many years (1858–1882) as pastor of the Reformed congregation in St. Petersburg, knew Pobedonostsev well and left a characterization of him that very accurately captures the duality of this statesman’s personality: “It is quite evident that Pobedonostsev did not belong to the repulsive clique of court sycophants, whose actions reveal above all a vain desire to secure, through intrigue, a cozy position in the glow of the tsar’s favor for their own well-being and benefit. Even the most outspoken opponents and detractors of his political talent must admit that, both on the path to his high position and after achieving that goal, Pobedonostsev was never guided by self-serving motives or personal gain. Always and everywhere, he displayed disregard for himself, unconcerned with the judgments of the crowd. He did not seek the crowd’s favor nor did he fear its disfavor. He invariably had only one goal in mind, which he, as a resolute (?! – I. S.) Slavophile and defender of the dominant state Church, considered beneficial for Russia. As far as I can judge from my own observations of his aspirations and actions, he never desired anything for himself personally, but always served only the cause for which he fought. He served it with the great energy of an outstanding mind, with the tenacity and insight that jurisprudence bestows only upon its most favored disciples, and with an extraordinary temperament—all of this is indisputable! It is impossible to diminish his merits.”[459] .

On October 19, 1905, two days after the publication of the October 17 Manifesto, Pobedonostsev received a rescript from the Tsar dismissing him from his post as Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. Some time earlier, on April 17, 1905, a decree on freedom of religion had been issued. It concerned primarily the Old Believers and various sects, but it also applied to the dominant Orthodox Church. Issues of church reform and the Local Council were hotly debated in church circles and in the press. These trends, of course, did not in any way correspond to Pobedonostsev’s views. Although Pobedonostsev wielded great influence over Nicholas II, the latter was forced by the pressure of events to remove him from office. Not only the decree on religious tolerance but also the general change in the situation led to Pobedonostsev’s dismissal: the weakening of autocracy deprived his continued activities of any foundation [460] .

d) Prince A. D. Obolensky (d. 1934) became Chief Prosecutor, holding this post from October 19, 1905, to April 14, 1906. He was succeeded by Prince A. A. Shirinsky-Shikhmatoff, who remained in office for only two months (April 24–June 9). P. P. Izvolsky was appointed as his successor (from July 1906 to February 6, , 1909), but he was not well-regarded by the clergy because, as curator of the Kyiv Educational District, he had defended sectarians against persecution [461] . After Izvolsky, the position of Chief Prosecutor passed to S. M. Lukyanov (February 6, 1908 – May 2, 1911). None of these men bore much resemblance to Pobedonostsev, nor did they stand out in any way. Lukyanov tried to establish more or less tolerable relations with the State Duma, where the church administration had come under the harshest criticism after the budget of the Holy Synod was reviewed. Ultimately, in connection with the case of Hieromonk Iliodor Trufanov—which was a major public concern at the time—and under pressure from above, Lukyanov was forced to resign [462] .

He was succeeded by V. K. Sabler (May 2, 1911 – June 5, 1915), whose career was closely tied to church administration. Sabler (1847–1929) was a lawyer and had served as legal counsel to the Holy Synod in the office of the Chief Prosecutor since 1881. From 1883, he served as head of the Synod’s chancellery, and then for many years (from 1892 until mid-1905) as deputy to the Chief Prosecutor. Thus, Sabler was Pobedonostsev’s closest associate and shaped church administration in the spirit of the latter. Thanks to his excellent manners, Sabler was able to get along well with the Synod’s bishops (see § 6). Furthermore, despite his German origins, he was regarded in church circles as a true “Orthodox Christian.” When disagreements arose between him and Pobedonostsev over the reforms and the convening of the Council, Pobedonostsev managed to remove Sabler by securing his appointment to the State Council. At that time, Sabler still welcomed the reforms, which Pobedonostsev had always opposed. Following Lukyanov’s dismissal on May 2, 1911, Sabler assumed the post of Chief Prosecutor [463] . Sabler’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor marked a return to the days of Pobedonostsev. The Chief Prosecutor was once again the all-powerful administrator within the Holy Synod. However, Sabler faced strong opposition from both a segment of the clergy and, above all, the State Duma. His appointment was the initiative of those circles that gravitated toward the so-called “elder” Grigory Rasputin-Novykh (see § 9). This fact alone caused great discontent among some bishops, the liberal-minded intelligentsia, and even monarchists. In March 1912, Sabler had to withstand sharp attacks during the Third State Duma’s debate on the Holy Synod’s budget. The grounds for criticism were as follows: first, Sabler withdrew the bill on the Charter of Communities introduced by Lukyanov; second, he managed—albeit with great difficulty—to introduce a highly controversial amendment to the Charter of Theological Academies in accordance with Article 87 of the Fundamental Laws; in other words, he acted in circumvention of and without the consent of the State Duma and the State Council. Finally, he was criticized for some of his orders, a number of appointments to the church administration, as well as for his ties to the “elder” Grigory Rasputin. All of this turned the debate over the Holy Synod’s budget into a heated exchange regarding the person of the Chief Prosecutor, in which both liberals and conservatives took part. Thus, V. M. Purishkevich, a deputy from the nationalist faction, openly declared in his speech on March 5, 1912: “Neither the Left, nor the revolutionaries, nor the Social Democrats, nor the Cadets, nor the Trudoviks—no one has done as much harm to the Orthodox Church over the past three or four years, or even ten years, I would say, as the current Chief Prosecutor”[464] . However, with support from the highest authorities, Sabler remained in his post until July 1915, when, due to political events, he was removed from office along with other conservative-minded ministers.

From the time of Pobeditelsky until Sabeler’s dismissal, a number of commissions were established under the Holy Synod. Worthy of mention is the work of the Pre-Council Assembly, which was tasked with developing reforms in specific areas of church administration and preparing for the convening of a Local Council to implement these reforms. The Pre-Council Assembly was dissolved without achieving any results. Later, at Sabler’s suggestion and by imperial decree, a Pre-Council Conference was organized under the Holy Synod (February 28, 1912). This commission began its work on March 8, 1912, drawing on the materials left behind by the Pre-Council Assembly. By early 1916 [465], the Assembly had managed to draft three bills [466] . Its further agenda included the following items: 1) an increase in salaries for bishops (1909); 2) providing for the clergy (1910); 3) establishing candle factories (1910); 4) the issue of pension rates for the clergy (1913); 5) the charters of theological schools (1910–1911). Only the amendment to the Charter of Theological Academies was implemented [467] .

It was difficult for the Chief Prosecutors of 1914–1917 to be very active—the war stood in the way. Their appointments depended directly on the political events that were shaking Russia at the time. Nevertheless, the influence that had characterized the era of V. K. Sabler continued to be felt in the life of the Church; the source of this influence should be sought in the circles that gathered around the “elder” Grigory Rasputin-Novykh. Objective data on this period is extremely scarce. Memoirs provide more insight, though they are equally subjective, whether written by opponents or supporters of the “elder”[468] . The tenure of Sabler’s successor, A. D. Samarin—a Moscow nobleman and a devout Orthodox Christian with Slavophile leanings—as Chief Prosecutor was short-lived (July 5–September 26, 1915). However, due to intrigues on the part of Rasputin’s entourage, he was unable to hold on to the position. He was appointed Chief Prosecutor only because, in July 1915, the government was unable to nominate its own candidate, and Samarin was accepted as a representative of the moderate-liberal circles. The next Chief Prosecutor, A. N. Volzhin (October 1, 1915 – August 7, 1916), a former governor and official in the Ministry of the Interior, was forced to resign due to disagreements with Metropolitan Pitirim of St. Petersburg. He was succeeded by N. P. Raev (August 30, 1916 – March 3, 1917), a protégé of pro-Rasputin circles, who served as Chief Prosecutor for only half a year, until the February Revolution of 1917.[469]

Under the Provisional Government, the post of Chief Prosecutor remained in place for some time and was held by V. N. Lvov (March 3–July 24, 1917). Lvov was a member of the State Duma, had headed the Duma Committee on Ecclesiastical Affairs for many years, and belonged to the Octobrist faction. Despite the changes that had taken place in relations between the Church and the state, the new Chief Prosecutor still acted entirely in the spirit of his predecessors, arbitrarily, without any particular necessity, and in complete contradiction to the aspirations of the Provisional Government, removing bishops [470] . When, in early July 1917, the composition of the Cabinet of Ministers changed again, Lvov was removed from office and replaced by A. V. Kartashov. He introduced a bill that completely transformed the previous relationship between the Church and the state: the Ober-Procurator’s Office was abolished, and the Ministry of Religious Affairs, headed by Kartashov, was established. This took place on August 5, 1917—thus bringing to an end the two-hundred-year history of the Ober-Procurator’s Office of the Holy Synod [471] .

e) The significant role of the Synodal Chief Prosecutor in the Russian Church is a consequence of the state’s involvement in church affairs. In this regard, it is worth noting that the Chief Prosecutor’s powers were never codified anywhere. Admittedly, the same lack of clarity and absence of a precise definition of powers are evident in the question of the emperor’s authority over the Russian Church. As one Russian legal scholar wrote: “It can be said that the 18th century in the history of the Russian Church was devoted to stripping the Church of all traces of self-government, and the nineteenth century was devoted to concentrating the ecclesiastical-administrative powers seized by secular authority in the hands of the Synodal Chief Prosecutors and making them the sole authoritative advisors to the monarch on ecclesiastical matters… Our legislation contains almost no provisions regarding the office of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. It was established by Peter the Great’s decrees, which remain unchanged and unamended to this day; these acts do not provide any precise description of the position occupied by the Synod’s Chief Prosecutor’s Office within our system of church administration”[472] . Meanwhile, under Peter the Great, the Chief Prosecutor—introduced into the Holy Synod as the sovereign’s “eye” and “steward of state affairs”—was assigned the role of merely an observer and mediator [473] . It should be noted that this type of position was not something new. In the 17th century, the Patriarchal Palace Office—that is, the highest authority of church administration—included a “tsar’s boyar” who discussed with the patriarch or his representative, the deacon of the Patriarchal Office, all matters concerning the Church and the state [474] . In the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1841) (Art. 2), the Holy Synod is referred to as the Council that governs the Russian Church, whereas the Ober-Procurator, in Article 285, is merely the guardian and defender of compliance with the laws governing the Church. In other words, this article merely comments on Peter’s instruction. However, as we have already seen, in practice the situation was different. The legislative branch, on the one hand, was in no hurry to define the legal status of the Ober-Procurator, and on the other hand, equated him with ministers of other departments, thereby indirectly expanding his powers. During the reign of Alexander II, the notion that the Chief Prosecutor was a minister of the Department of the Orthodox Faith found expression in the relevant laws. In accordance with the State Council’s opinion, approved by the Emperor on December 13, 1865, the position of Deputy Chief Prosecutor was established; the text of the law states that this position is associated “with the rights and duties assigned to deputy ministers”[475] . In 1880, Alexander III ordered Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev to participate in the meetings of the Committee of Ministers. (A similar order had been given by Alexander II to Count D. A. Tolstoy.)[476] On December 6, 1901—again based on the opinion of the State Council, approved by the emperor—the following order was issued: “The Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod shall attend the State Council, the Council of Ministers, and the Committee of Ministers on an equal footing with the ministers.”[477] . It followed from this that the Chief Prosecutor participated in the discussion and resolution of the issues debated at these meetings. It is clear that his vote was decisive on church matters. Although the powers of the Chief Prosecutor with regard to the Russian Church lacked any clear legal definition, in practice they were the same as those of a minister; indeed, they may even have exceeded the latter, since the Chief Prosecutor could amend—and, moreover, repeal—resolutions and laws adopted by the Holy Synod. M. Ya. Moroshkin, who studied in detail the period of Count Protasov’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor, concluded: “Although he did not hold, as Golitsyn once did, the title of Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, Protasov was, in essence, a true minister through the new institutions he established within the Holy Synod… The Filaretovs’ opposition to Protasov ended unfavorably for them. After their departure to the dioceses, Protasov filled the Synod for the most part with people of weak character but who were ambitious and sought his favor; they were summoned here for a year or two, “caliphs for an hour,” as one of them aptly put it, were completely unfamiliar with Synodal affairs and did not even have the opportunity to become acquainted with them due to the brevity of their stay here”[478] . Twenty years later, under Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy, little had changed. The Chief Prosecutor’s authority was rooted in a long-standing tradition. Bishop Nicodemus Kazantsev, a contemporary of Tolstoy, wrote in 1873 in his notes “On the Most Holy Synod”: “The Chief Prosecutor, who embodies secular authority in the Synod, is, on the one hand, nothing in the Synod, because he has no vote there (i.e., in the Synodal Assembly. – I. S.); but on the other hand, he is everything in the Synod, because at his complete disposal are: 1) the written proceedings of the Synod; 2) the Synod’s correspondence with all state authorities, with all bishops, and with the entire clergy; 3) the presentation of synodal matters to the sovereign and the transmission of the sovereign’s decrees to the Synod. This alone constitutes the whole. Therefore, the members of the Synod are like birds without wings, like a machine driven by an external spring; they are the image and appearance of authority without the authority itself—a phantom of it, not its life. The Synod deliberates on matters as if in a public square, under the watchful eye and threat of an external authority”[479] .

All these statements unambiguously outline the significance of the Chief Prosecutor in the state’s internal church policy. However, his authority also had an impact on foreign policy, for example, in the Russian Church’s relations with the Orthodox Churches of the East. In the so-called Eastern Question, the Chief Prosecutor acted entirely in accordance with the state’s foreign policy interests. Prince G. N. Trubetskoy, as a diplomat who had himself dealt with the East, was, due to his Slavophile convictions, little inclined to approve of the Church’s subordination to the state; his views on this matter fully coincided with the opinion of Bishop Nikodim Kazantsev just cited. Having thoroughly studied the relations between the Russian Church and the Ecumenical Patriarchate in the mid-19th century, he acknowledged that the Ober-Procurator served to safeguard the purely external interests of the Russian Church, insofar as they coincided with the interests of the Russian state. The Ober-Procurator was compelled to obey the directives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, even when it came to the purely religious ties between the Russian Church and the Eastern Patriarchs [480] .

§ 8. The Holy Synod and the Government’s Church Policy (1725–1817)

a) Following the sudden death of Peter I (January 28, 1725), a period of internal turmoil ensued that lasted several decades [481] . “Russia experienced several palace coups; at times, the country was ruled by people who were alien to the nation and, due to their selfish inclinations, unworthy of power. The causes underlying this era of coups and regents were rooted, on the one hand, in the state of the royal family, and on the other, in the peculiarities of the milieu that managed the affairs of state… Be that as it may, the state of the ruling house made succession to the throne arbitrary and opened the door wide to all manner of outside influences on the order of succession. Outside influences flourished particularly because the throne was occupied either by women or by minor sovereigns—conditions conducive to the development of favoritism and personal influence at court and within the state”[482] . These events could not fail to affect the Holy Synod and the church hierarchy as well. Among the bishops were both supporters and opponents of Peter’s church reform, who sided with one or the other faction in the struggle between court parties and favorites depending on the latter’s church policies. The collegial system of church governance introduced by Peter I was extremely unpopular among the hierarchy. Even the author of the “Spiritual Regulations” himself, Theophan Prokopovich, driven by a lust for power, succumbed after Peter I’s death to the temptation to completely renounce the principle of collegiality that he had previously defended. The passions and animosities that had been suppressed during the tsar’s lifetime now burst forth both at court and within the church hierarchy, becoming the primary motives for the actions of, among others, the members of the Holy Synod. Appointment to the Synod came to depend directly on one’s relationship with a particular favorite. It was also determined by the monarchs’ frequently shifting views on the role of the clergy in strengthening monarchical power. An 18th-century historian encounters a distinctly political stance on the part of the imperial authority toward the Church. Even as a state institution, the Orthodox Church continued to wield enormous influence in society, an influence that could not be ignored—especially amid the highly unstable conditions of constant changes on the throne. Of course, the nature of the sovereigns’ church policy depended to a large extent on their personal religiosity and spiritual development. While Anna Ioannovna, due to her narrow-mindedness, was convinced that she could commit blatant acts of lawlessness and violence against the Church, Catherine II knew how to carry out her ecclesiastical and political plans wisely and diplomatically. But the result in both cases turned out to be the same: the state gained ever-new opportunities to manipulate the Church, turning it into its servant. In this regard, it should be noted that in the 37 years following the death of Peter I until the accession of Catherine II, the throne passed from one ruler to another no fewer than six times.

The changes in the ecclesiastical-political situation that everyone had anticipated upon the accession of Peter I’s daughter, Elizabeth (1741–1761), did not occur. The ecclesiastical policies of Peter III, who was completely alien to Orthodoxy, caused bewilderment and anxiety among the clergy and the faithful. It was only when the reins of government fell into the capable hands of Catherine II that state policy toward the Church stabilized. After the empress’s death, the ecclesiastical-political system continued to develop in the direction she had charted and, at the beginning of Alexander I’s reign, was finally completed as part of a general reorganization of the highest state bodies. The impact of the state’s ecclesiastical policy on the Holy Synod and the church hierarchy deserves detailed consideration.

b) Even during the lifetime of Peter I, contradictions began to emerge within the Holy Synod. The hostile relations between Theophan Prokopovich and Stefan Yavorsky were caused by their theological disagreements. Archimandrite Theophylact Lopatinsky, an advisor to the Holy Synod, was close to Stefan Yavorsky and shared his theological views. After Stefan Yavorsky’s death, Peter I did not appoint a new president of the Synod, so all affairs were handled by the vice president, Theodosius Yanovsky, Archbishop of Novgorod—though more pro forma than de facto. In fact, the most influential member of the Holy Synod—Theophanes, who belonged to Peter I’s inner circle—was in sharp conflict with his rival Theodosius, who was no less power-hungry than he was. Having become a bishop relatively late in life, Theodosius behaved despotically, squandered church funds on his personal needs, surrounded himself with luxury, and sharply criticized the diminishing role of bishops and Peter’s decrees regarding church estates. He forced the clergy of his diocese to swear an oath of allegiance to him personally as their bishop. When, following Catherine I’s accession to the throne, critical voices began to be heard at court against Peter’s reforms, Theodosius decided that the time had come for a decisive blow against his rival, Theophanes, and a period of ceaseless intrigue began within the Holy Synod. Drawing on conservative sentiments within the hierarchy, court circles, and the government, he enlisted the help of the hieromonk Savvatiy of the Pskov-Pechersk Monastery ( ) to attack Theophanes; Savvatiy informed the Synod that icons without silver frames were being stored carelessly at the monastery. A denunciation based on such a trivial matter could, however, have seriously damaged Theophanes as a diocesan bishop, since his attitude toward icons had long aroused suspicion. But the accusation of “heresy” collapsed as soon as it became clear that Archimandrite Markell Rodychevsky, a judge at the Pskov Bishop’s House, had issued the order regarding the icons. Theophanes, that “typical mercenary and adventurer”—though “intelligent and learned”—took cruel revenge on his rival, completely destroying him [483] . Prince M. Shcherbatov believed that Theophanes “was completely blinded by vanity” and that his treatise *The Truth of the Monarch’s Will* was “a monument to flattery and servility”[484] . Theophanes not only succeeded in refuting the charges brought against him by Theodosius; in his letter of defense, he provided a detailed account of Theodosius’s aforementioned abuses as a diocesan bishop, specifically mentioning his derogatory remarks about the reigning empress and her favorite, A. D. Menshikov. On April 27, 1725, Theodosius was arrested. When his trial began, it became clear that, due to his arrogance, Theodosius had no friends left in the Holy Synod. On May 11, 1725, by decree of the Empress, he was exiled to the Korel Monastery, and on September 2 of that same year, the Holy Synod issued a decree stripping him of his episcopal and priestly ranks; On February 5, 1726, Theodosius died in the monastery as a simple “monk Fedos”[485] .

Theophan had prevailed, but there was little cause for triumph. His appointment as first vice-president of the Holy Synod was followed by the appointment of Theophylact Lopatinsky, Archbishop of Tver and a member of the Synod since 1723, as second vice-president, who went on to lead the opposition to Theophanes within the Synod. Soon, the opposition grew so strong that it became possible to appoint Archbishop George Dashkov of Rostov to the Synod. Dashkov was in every respect the complete opposite of Theophanes: a Great Russian by birth, without any formal education, he was a supporter of the Old Moscow faction and an opponent of Peter’s reforms. He resembled Theophanes in only one respect: like him, he was a shrewd and tireless schemer. He maintained close ties with the entourage of Peter I’s first wife, Tsarina Eudoxia, particularly with the Dolgorukys, who had become very close to the court during the reign of Peter II. Early in his career, Georgy Dashkov won the favor and trust of Peter I through his participation in the suppression of the uprising in Astrakhan in 1706. At that time, he was a monk at the Trinity Monastery in Astrakhan [486] . Upon becoming a member of the Holy Synod, Georgy Dashkov immediately began a struggle against Theophanes, whose position had noticeably deteriorated due to new appointments to the Synod. First came Archimandrite Lev Yurlov—a Great Russian, like Dashkov, and a friend of the latter—who had been Bishop of Voronezh since May (1727—Ed.). In June of that same year, Ignatius Smola, the retired former Metropolitan of Krutitsy, became a member of the Holy Synod. In 1721, as punishment for the honors and certain services he had rendered to the nun Elena (the former Tsarina Eudoxia), he was transferred to the See of Irkutsk, but later, at his request, he was permitted to retire to the Nilov Hermitage. Now, however, through the efforts of the Old Moscow faction—which had regained strength under Peter II—he was appointed Metropolitan of Kolomna and a member of the Holy Synod [487] . For Theophanes, these years were critical. It was only thanks to his extraordinary intellect and immense energy that he was able to survive them and, in the end, under Empress Anna Ioannovna, emerge victorious from this struggle.

At first, his authority as Peter’s closest associate in the reform effort was severely undermined by criticism of the reforms at the court of Catherine I [488] . Then, following the establishment of the Supreme Secret Council on February 8, 1726, the position of the Holy Synod as a whole deteriorated: it became a subordinate body. Paragraph 13 of the Supreme Secret Council’s memorandum of March 16, 1726, states that in its “reports” (i.e., notifications) to the Senate, the Synod must report only on current matters for which decrees and conclusions already exist, and “regarding any new matters, the Synod is not to issue any decrees on its own, but must first report everything to Her Imperial Majesty through the Supreme Secret Council; and whatever is decided on this matter, the Synod is to be informed, and the first decree on the matter is to be sent to them in Her Imperial Majesty’s own hand.” This was followed by decrees dividing the Synod into departments, which curtailed its rights and jurisdiction [489] . Consequently, the significance of the First Vice-President of the Holy Synod also diminished. Theophan’s opponents decided to take advantage of his lack of support in the Supreme Secret Council and once again raised the old accusation regarding icons. This time, Archimandrite Markell Rodychevsky was brought into the case; he submitted a 48-point memorandum accusing Theophan of heresy and Protestantism. The allegations claimed that Theophanes despised Orthodoxy, considered only the Lutheran faith and the Augsburg Confession (Confessio Augustana) to be true, did not venerate either the Mother of God or the saints, and referred to icons as idols; furthermore, he allegedly spoke in indecent terms about the Empress and her favorite, Menshikov. In his defense, Theophanes wrote an entire treatise in which he refuted these accusations point by point [490] . Victory once again went to Theophanes, and his opponent was sent to the Peter and Paul Fortress.

When Peter II (May 7, 1727 – January 18, 1730) ascended the throne, Theophanes’s position became even more precarious (there was talk in court circles of restoring the patriarchate, and Georgy Dashkov considered himself a likely candidate), the Holy Synod received a new accusatory memorandum from Markell, which he had composed while already in the fortress, containing a compilation of allegedly heretical statements from Theophan’s writings. However, Theophanes managed to prove that the works in question had been approved by the Synod at the time and, moreover, had been written at the behest and with the knowledge of Tsar Peter I. Thus, Markell’s action constituted an insult to the late sovereign and the Holy Synod. New difficulties arose for Theophanes in connection with the 1728 publication of Stefan Yavorsky’s work *The Stone of Faith*, which was arranged by Theophanes’ opponent, Theophylact Lopatinsky, and in which Theophanes’ theological views were interpreted as Lutheranism [491] . However, the turmoil caused by the sudden death of the underage tsar pushed theological disputes into the background and somewhat eased Theophanes’s situation.

After lengthy debates among members of the Supreme Secret Council, senators, and high-ranking military officers, the Empress selected Anna Ioannovna (January 19, 1730 – October 17, 1740), the niece of Peter I and Duchess of Courland, was elected by the Empress. Before her accession to the throne, she was required to sign the “conditions” presented to her at the initiative of Prince D. M. Golitsyn, which limited the autocratic power of emperors [492] . Upon her accession, however, she unhesitatingly tore up this document, as demanded by the Guards officers who were opposed to the high aristocracy, and restored autocracy. Anna Ioannovna likely took this step after consulting with Theophanes Prokopovich, who, by all accounts, persistently urged the empress to return to the former autocracy. On February 25, 1730, Theophanes wrote a solemn ode expressing “Russia’s joy” at the successful resolution of the crisis [493] .

Anna Ioannovna [494] , who at the age of 17 married Frederick William, Duke of Courland, and was widowed just three months later, spent nearly 20 years at her residence in Mitau, where she met her future favorite, Biron. Having completely forgotten her Russian origins, she patronized the Baltic Germans above all others, promoting them to leading positions everywhere. Life in Mitau had so thoroughly erased all Russian traits from her character that even foreigners considered her a pure-blooded German [495] . “Her coarse, natural disposition,” ” writes Prince M. Shcherbatov, “was not softened by either her upbringing or the customs of that century, for she was born during a time of harshness in Russia, and was raised and lived at a time when many severe measures were being enforced; and this meant that she showed no mercy toward the blood of her subjects and signed death sentences involving agonizing executions without a flicker of hesitation”[496] . “The empress possessed a ‘propensity for vengeance, a morbid sense of self-importance, and a refined cruelty,’ wrote another historian. ‘At times, Anna’s cruelty took on a truly morbid character, much like that of Peter the Great—a desire to mock people… Such a woman, of course, needed no prompting to commit acts of cruelty”[497] . On November 10, 1731, by order of the Empress, the Cabinet of Ministers was established “for the better and most proper conduct of all state affairs… and for the benefit of the state and our loyal subjects.”

Neither before nor after Anna did any Russian government treat the clergy with such distrust and such senseless cruelty [498] . The Holy Synod was ordered to submit monthly reports on administrative matters to the Cabinet of Ministers. The Synod’s dependence became even greater than it had been under the Supreme Secret Council during the previous reign: it was subordinate simultaneously to the Cabinet of Ministers, the Senate, and the Board of Finance. The latter, through the arbitrariness of its administration, plundered church estates. Protests were futile and led only to the torture chambers of the Secret Chancellery, regardless of rank or title. “The slightest suspicion, an ambiguous word, even silence seemed to him (to Biron. — Ed.) sufficient grounds for execution and exile,” notes N. M. Karamzin in “A Note on Ancient and Modern Russia”[499] . “The German rule lasted ten years; for ten years, the Russians were insulted in their noblest sympathies and feelings. The grumbling never ceased. People who suffered at the hands of the Germans—regardless of their personal qualities, simply because they were Russian—became heroic martyrs in the eyes of the people. Yet despite all this, the people did not rise up against the Germans, but merely grumbled”[500] .

But Theophan had no reason to complain during the era of “Biron’s rule.” The state was ruled by “emissaries of the devil,” as Archimandrite Cyril Florinsky put it after Elizabeth Petrovna’s accession to the throne [501] , while Theophanes exercised unlimited authority in the Synod until his death in 1736. No one dared to oppose him. After the “Theophan era” and under the influence of the increasingly intense persecution of Orthodoxy, the Holy Synod was ready to unquestioningly carry out any order from above, for the threat of falling into the clutches of the Secret Chancellery constantly hung over every bishop. Ambrose Yushkevich, Archbishop of Novgorod and a member of the Holy Synod since 1734, said in his sermon on November 18, 1740: “They have attacked our piety and our Orthodox faith; but they do so under the pretext that they are not eradicating faith, but rather superstition—which is unseemly and highly detrimental to Christianity. Oh, how many clergy—and especially scholars—have been exterminated under this pretense, how many monks have been defrocked and tortured to death!. How many thousands of pious people… were abducted into the Secret Society… and innocent blood was shed in streams!” Archimandrite Dimitri Sechenov expressed similar views in 1742 regarding the persecution of the clergy, adding: “They instilled such fear that even the shepherds themselves, the very preachers of God’s word, remained silent and did not dare to open their mouths to speak of piety”[502] .

Under Empress Anna, the country was ruled by people of other faiths who had no understanding of Orthodoxy and regarded Orthodox rites as superstition. And even later, neither Peter III nor Catherine II understood or wanted to understand the liturgical aspects of Orthodoxy. The blame for this lay not only in their religious views but also in the “Spiritual Regulations,” in which Theophan Prokopovich, with Peter I’s approval, allowed himself to make numerous attacks against church rites. It is therefore not surprising that, for example, Baron A. I. Osterman viewed the anti-ritualist church policy, in accordance with the “Regulations,” as a struggle against superstition. In his memorable memorandum to Regent Anna Leopoldovna, he wrote: “You will ‘never err when, in matters of faith, you deign to base all your decisions on the ‘Spiritual Regulations’ published by the late Emperor Peter the Great and ensure their implementation’”[503] .

In the first months of her reign, Empress Anna was so preoccupied with consolidating her personal position in the struggle against the high-ranking officials that she exercised restraint in church affairs. Her manifesto of March 17, 1730, promised a conservative turn: everything was to be “as it had been before, under Their Majesties our grandfather and father,” that is, not under her uncle Peter I, but under Tsars Alexei Mikhailovich and John Alexeyevich [504] . The manifesto spoke of “protecting” Orthodoxy and of the Holy Synod’s duty to ensure that the faithful “observed the traditions sanctioned by the Holy Church with care and reverence.” Such conservatism even prompted a well-known opponent of Peter’s reforms, the former director of the State Printing House, M. P. Avramov, to send the Empress a memorandum in 1730 entitled: “On the Duty of Her Imperial Majesty to Govern the Christian Church, Entrusted to Her Majesty by God.” In the memorandum, we read: “For the sake of Your Majesty’s inherent and profound humility before God the Savior, there must once again be a Most Holy Patriarch in Russia… In all matters, one must consult with him, the Patriarch, regarding the beneficial governance of the Russian clergy and strive for the greatest good, so that the clergy may be restored to their former order and prosperity. And all civil statutes and decrees should be carefully reviewed with him—to determine whether they are in accordance with God’s law and the statutes of the holy fathers of the Church, as well as with ecclesiastical traditions; and if any are not in accordance, they should be set aside, and henceforth enacted in accordance with God’s law and ecclesiastical reason”[505] . However, the new empress’s church policy took a completely different direction. Theophan’s opponents, who had hoped to return the Church to pre-Peter times, very soon felt the full force of his iron fist.

On May 20, 1730, a supreme decree was issued to the Holy Synod, marking the beginning of a new church policy. In view of the small number of its members (apart from Theophanes, only three bishops sat on it: Georgy Dashkov, Ignatius Smola, and Theophylact Lopatinsky), was ordered “to select, from among the clergy currently in Moscow, six additional individuals who are worthy of the task, and to diligently strive to carry out the aforementioned decree so that there may be no disorder or delay in current affairs.” The Synod elected eight members, and on July 21, 1730, the new composition was made public. The Synod consisted of: Theophanes himself, Archbishop Leonid of Krutitsy, Archbishop Pitirim of Nizhny Novgorod, Bishop Joachim of Suzdal, three archimandrites, and two archpriests [506] . The three opponents of Theophanes were forced to return to their dioceses. The Holy Synod, in its new composition, was a docile instrument of Theophanes, and now a period of vengeance began for Theophanes, for there is no other way to describe his activities at that time. There were no chief prosecutors who could have stood up to Theophanes during Anna’s reign. “Theophanes threw himself into this maelstrom with all his might,” writes his biographer I. Chistovich, “and was swept up in it until his very death. How many people did he ruin completely in vain, torment, and burn with the slow fire of torture and imprisonment—without any compassion or remorse!” Theophanes’s triumph was greatly facilitated by his good relations with Biron [507] .

The Bishop of Voronezh, Lev Yurlov, became Theophanes’ first victim. He was aware of the Old Moscow faction’s plans regarding the succession to the throne, but had no precise information about the situation in the capital during the critical days leading up to and during Anna Ioannovna’s accession. Although the city authorities had been notified of her accession to the throne, the bishop—until he received instructions from the Synod—continued to pray during divine services for Empress Eudoxia, the heiress to the throne Elizabeth, and the other princesses, without offering a prayer of thanksgiving on the occasion of Anna’s accession. Based on a report from the civil authorities, the Holy Synod was required to conduct an investigation; however, through the efforts of Lev Yurlov’s like-minded associates—Georgy Dashkov and Ignatius Smola—the investigation was delayed until a detailed report was received from the Voronezh bishop himself. After the reorganization of the Synod, Lev Yurlov was summoned to provide an explanation and admitted that he had hoped for support from Georgy and Ignatius, after which the latter two were also held accountable. Lev was initially transferred to Astrakhan (July 8, 1730), but since the case was not yet closed, he was not permitted to depart for his new diocese. Soon after, on October 2, he was removed from office, and on December 3, he was defrocked and exiled under the name Lavrenty to the Krestny Monastery in the Arkhangelsk Governorate. On December 25, Ignatius Smola also lost his episcopal rank and was exiled first to the Spaso-Kamenny Monastery and then to the Sviyazhsk Monastery, where he was warmly received by Metropolitan Silvestr of Kholm of Kazan; From there, Ignatius was transferred to the Korelsky Monastery (December 30, 1731). After being deposed from the episcopal office, Georgy Dashkov went as a simple monk to the Spaso-Kamenny Monastery (December 28, 1730)[508] . Metropolitan Sylvester of Kholm, who had received the condemned Ignatius Smola as a bishop, was subjected to interrogation. The vengeful Theophan did not fail to bring up the metropolitan’s other misdeeds as well, such as his disrespectful remarks about Catherine I. Sylvester was stripped of his episcopal rank and, as a simple monk, was imprisoned in the Vyborg Fortress in 1732. Bishop Athanasius of Vologda received a stern reprimand from the Synod for allowing Georgy Dashkov certain privileges. Theophanes could not forgive Varlaam Vanatovich, Archbishop of Kyiv (1722–1730), for publishing Stefan Yavorsky’s book *The Stone of Faith*, nor for the fact that those in the archbishop’s entourage too often brought up Theophanes’ Lutheran past. Citing a delay in holding a thanksgiving service for the accession of Anna Ioannovna to the throne, the Holy Synod stripped Varlaam of his episcopal rank and exiled him to the Belozer Monastery [509] . Theophan’s next victim was Markell Rodychevsky, who was sent to a monastery but continued to distribute his “notebooks” from there, accusing Theophan of heresy. Markell was aided in this by the aforementioned Avramov and a certain monk named Jonah. Rumors circulated among the people that the “heretic” Theophanes was persecuting Markell for his Orthodox faith. Avramov was in contact with Archimandrite Platon Malinovsky, a member of the Holy Synod, with whom he arranged a secret meeting for Markell. In early 1731, Theophanes filed a denunciation against Markell and his like-minded associates with the Secret Chancellery, accusing them of treason, since they allegedly slandered the Germans and the Lutheran faith and criticized the “Spiritual Regulations,” thereby showing disrespect for existing state laws. The investigation by the Secret Chancellery resulted in Markell being exiled to the Kirillov-Belozersky Monastery in 1732, Avramov to the Iversky Monastery, and Ion to the Valaam Monastery. Archimandrite Platon managed to clear his name for the time being [510] . After that, Theophanes initiated a case against Hieromonk Joseph Reshilov, which allowed him to settle the score with his old enemy—Theophylact Lopatinsky. Joseph Reshilov was one of those adventurers in a cassock, a type not uncommon in the 18th century. Shortly after the conviction of Markell and his followers, new pamphlets attacking Theophanes began to appear, their content very similar to Markell’s writings. Theophanes was convinced that Reshilov was their author and reported this to the Secret Chancellery. Once again, the case was presented to them as a purely political crime. The suspect was arrested and revealed to the Secret Chancellery everyone with whom he had been in contact in one way or another, including Theophylact Lopatinsky. He did not hold back on his testimony, and numerous new arrests led to further denunciations. In 1733, a treatise containing blasphemous remarks against Empress Anna was discovered. Throughout Russia, many people were seized, brought to the torture chambers of the Secret Chancellery, and subjected to torture. At the same time, writings against Theophanes continued to be found in monasteries. Along with several lay aristocrats, Archimandrite Platon Malinovsky was arrested in 1734; he was tortured, stripped of his membership in the Holy Synod, and, after a long imprisonment, exiled to Kamchatka in 1738. Theophylact was also detained, but on March 5, 1734, after questioning, he was temporarily released and sent back to Tver. However, as early as April of the following year, he once again found himself before the judges of the Secret Chancellery. On September 8, 1736, Theophanes Prokopovich passed away. Meanwhile, so many pockets of secret opposition to German dominance had been uncovered that the case continued, but now as a purely political one. During the investigation, even the name of the heir to the throne, Elizabeth—who was highly revered among the clergy—came to light. After three years of pretrial detention, Theophylact Lopatinsky, Theophan’s last opponent in theological disputes, was stripped of his episcopal rank by imperial decree on December 13, 1738, and imprisoned in the Vyborg Fortress. Reshilov, who had incriminated him, was defrocked and exiled to a monastery. On December 31, 1740, Regent Anna Leopoldovna released Theophylact from the fortress and restored him to his former rank. Shortly thereafter, on May 6, 1741, he passed away [511] . During the reign of Anna Ioannovna, the higher clergy was persecuted for the most trivial reasons, and the number of deposed bishops continued to grow [512] . The ranks of the parish clergy thinned, and monasteries were left deserted (as a result of the so-called “investigations”). On September 1, 1737, a decree was issued calling all church clergy between the ages of 15 and 40 who were fit for military service to enlist; only priests and deacons were exempt. Monks fled from the monasteries [513] . Since the membership of the Holy Synod was not replenished, the highest ecclesiastical administration ground to a halt; thus, in 1738, a single bishop presided over the Synod, and decisions were often made by just two synodal archimandrites and one archpriest. In 1740, Bishop Ambrose Yushkevich of Vologda, a member of the Holy Synod, was appointed Archbishop of Novgorod and, at the same time, presiding officer of the Holy Synod [514] .

On October 17, 1740, Empress Anna Ioannovna died. Shortly before her death, she appointed the young John Antonovich as her successor and her favorite, Biron, as regent. But on the night of November 8, Field Marshal Minich, in agreement with the emperor’s mother, Princess Anna Leopoldovna, arrested Biron, who was sentenced to death but later pardoned and exiled to Pelym in Siberia. Anna Leopoldovna became regent. This brought significant relief to the Church, although German dominance was not ended until after the coup of November 24–25, 1741, which brought Empress Elizabeth Petrovna to the throne[515] .

During her brief regency, which lasted only a year, Anna Leopoldovna sought to gain support among the clergy in the interests of her son. By early 1741, the Holy Synod consisted of five members in addition to its chairman, Archbishop Ambrose Yushkevich of Novgorod: two bishops and three archimandrites. Since the Chief Prosecutor had still not been appointed, Archbishop Ambrose—who enjoyed her complete trust—personally reported to the regent. It was precisely to his influence that the amnesty decree of late 1740 should be attributed, under which all clergy who had been punished for errors committed in the course of their duties had their offenses forgiven and their ranks, titles, and positions restored [516] . New episcopal appointments were also made at Ambrose’s behest. Hieromonk Arseny Matseevich was installed in the See of Tobolsk as Metropolitan of Tobolsk and All Siberia (March 15, 1741). Ambrose knew him well, and their ecclesiastical and political views coincided. In the decades that followed, Arseny gained great authority and, thanks to his energy and firm convictions, played a significant role in the history of the Church [517] . Ambrose demanded a list of the exiled bishops from the Secret Chancellery and arranged for their return. Theophylact Lopatinsky returned gravely ill and soon passed away. Ignatius Smola died on December 27, 1740, before the decree granting his release arrived. Lev Yurlov returned, although he was not immediately reinstated to the episcopate but only during the reign of Elizabeth. Even after that, however, he lived in seclusion due to poor health and died in 1755. Upon his return from exile, Reshilov was assigned to one of the monasteries, while Markell Rodychevsky was first appointed archimandrite of the Yuryev Monastery near Novgorod and then Bishop of Korel, after which he died shortly thereafter, in 1742. Platon Malinovsky was appointed to the Krutitsy See in 1742. After Empress Elizabeth confirmed Anna Leopoldovna’s decree, other convicts were also returned from exile in 1742–1743 [518] .

The accession to the throne of Empress Elizabeth (November 25, 1741 – December 25, 1761), the daughter of Peter I, was greeted with jubilation by the people and the clergy. She was gracious, affable, and extremely popular among the people. Her piety and love for all things Russian were widely known, and the clergy hoped that under her reign the old pre-Peter the Great order would be restored. However, these hopes—which had flared up before, shortly after the death of Peter I and especially during the reign of Peter II—proved for the most part to be in vain. The Empress—or, more accurately, her confidants—could not bring themselves to restore the old order in either state or church policy. Church policy was a continuation of Peter’s, and the proposals for counter-reforms presented to the Empress by the clergy were rejected. However, the Empress’s personal attitude toward the clergy was one of respect, thanks to which the bishops enjoyed great esteem during her reign. The court governing body she established—Her Majesty’s Conference (1756–1761)—did not interfere in church affairs. However, as in the time of Peter the Great, the Senate assumed responsibility for resolving various church matters, serving as the final authority in internal church affairs [519] . Elizabeth Petrovna was frivolous, fun-loving, and not particularly well-educated. She was not inclined to personally engage in state affairs and therefore had little grasp of them, easily succumbing to the influence of those around her. The highest ecclesiastical administration was left to its own devices and, due to a lack of any notable initiative, fell into a sort of lethargy. In the dioceses, the influence of the bishops over the clergy under their authority increased significantly; the clergy remained defenseless in the face of harsh—and at times brutal—pressure from their superiors. This process ran parallel to the expansion of the nobility’s rights, which resulted from a significant deepening of serfdom. Thus, Amvrosy Yushkevich was not mistaken when, in one of his sermons in honor of the accession of Elizabeth, the “Russian Augusta,” he proclaimed: “Heaven has triumphed, and all the saints have sung a song of joy.” As Prince Shcherbatov caustically observed, the bishops vied with one another for the palm of excellence in flattery [520] .

The membership of the Holy Synod was expanded. Archbishop Ambrose, who presided over the Synod, took care first and foremost to appoint his friend, Metropolitan Arsenius of Tobolsk—an energetic champion of ecclesiastical autonomy—as a member of the Synod; at the same time, Arsenius was transferred to Rostov. Bishop Mitrofan Slotvinsky of Tver (1737–1752) became the fifth bishop in the Synod. In addition, the Holy Synod included three archimandrites. Prince Y. P. Shakhovskoy, appointed to the post of Ober-Procurator, initially maintained quite friendly relations with the members of the Synod [521] .

Arseny’s appointment to the Holy Synod and his transfer to the See of Rostov were major personal successes for Ambrose, which were all the more remarkable given that, shortly before that, Arseny had managed to fall out with the synodal bishops, and had placed himself in a difficult position before the Empress as a result of a risky ecclesiastical-political action in which Ambrose himself had also participated [522] . On March 29, 1742, Arseny arrived in Moscow for the Empress’s coronation. As early as April 15, he drafted a lengthy memorandum “On Ecclesiastical Order,” which was presented to Elizabeth with his and Ambrose’s signatures. Unfortunately, it is impossible to determine whether this occurred before or after the coronation (April 25, 1742)[523] .

Arseny’s memorandum [524] consists of two parts. The first part offers a critique of the administration of the Russian Church from the perspective of canon law and argues that the institution of the Holy Synod lacks a canonical basis. This is followed by an argumentum ad hominem [an argument designed to appeal to subjective impression (Latin)] addressed to the Empress. The author attempts to prove that Tsar Peter I was not to blame for the promulgation of the fateful “Spiritual Regulations” and the establishment of the Holy Synod, but was led astray by the instigation of “hypocritical servants.” The second part describes the “attacks and plundering” carried out by the Board of Finance. From all that has been said, Arseny concludes that the patriarchate must be restored. At the same time, he proclaims the unlimited authority of the bishops and their independence from both secular institutions and the lower clergy and the faithful, on the grounds that “since Christ, after the apostles, builds His Church as His Body not through anyone else, but only through the bishops; for through the bishops all the sacraments of the Church are administered.” The remaining arguments are drawn from Church history. The patriarch must be the “eldest” among the bishops, as is the case in all Eastern Churches. The patriarchate as an institution has particularly proven its worth in the struggle against heresies, having rendered meritorious service to the Muscovite state as well. Here, Arseny cites passages from Patriarch Job’s “Uložennaya Gramota” (Constitutional Charter), which draws upon the monk Philotheos’s idea of “Moscow as the Third Rome.” The Moscow Patriarchate was recognized by all the Eastern patriarchs. The tradition of the patriarchate must be restored and preserved, if only because its abolition would constitute “a humiliation of our pious Russian state.” Of all the patriarchs who recognized the Moscow Patriarchate in the 16th century, only the Patriarch of Constantinople approved the establishment of the Holy Synod in 1723. Since the consent of the other patriarchs was not obtained, the legitimacy of the Holy Synod, from the standpoint of canon law, cannot be compared in any way to the legitimacy of the patriarchate. It was not Peter I, the text continues, who was the true culprit, but his advisor Theophanes Prokopovich, who was possessed by “a Protestant spirit—and perhaps even a more extreme one.” In composing the “Spiritual Regulations,” Theophan “was not ashamed to cite Jewish synagogues and the idolatrous judges of Athens as models of spiritual synodal governance, while he barely mentioned Christ and the apostles or the Ecumenical Councils, nor did he recall them.” Thus, Arsenius asserts: “There is almost no solid basis for a Synod to take the place of the patriarch.” The Collegium of Economy is more ruthless toward the Church than the Turks. Consequently, it is necessary first and foremost to free the Church from this evil, and then to restore the patriarchate. As a compromise, Arseny proposes retaining the Holy Synod, but under the leadership of the Metropolitan of Moscow. “As for the Chief Prosecutor and the Attorney General (of the Senate—Ed.), as well as the Economic Collegium, they have no business here,” since the metropolitan can personally report matters to the sovereign. The full presence of the Holy Synod is required only from time to time. Thus, this compromise option essentially entailed transferring the functions of the patriarch to the Metropolitan of Moscow, albeit without the corresponding title. The author concludes with an appeal to the Empress’s conscience: “May Her (the Church. — Ed.) to set things right… so that God’s wrath might be appeased”[525] .

Arsenius’s memorandum “On Church Administration” was the Russian hierarchy’s first official protest against the synodal system. Moreover, it bore the signature of the primate, Archbishop Ambrose, and therefore the Empress and the government could not simply ignore it. Unfortunately, there is no document recording any reaction from the state authorities. Nevertheless, some conclusions on this matter can be drawn based on another work by Ambrose and Arsenius—a pamphlet titled “Most Humble Proposal,” which was presented to Elizabeth on November 17, 1742.[526] The authors refer to the memorandum submitted in April and note: “From many, including our brethren (bishops? – I. S.), as well as from secular circles, we sense no small amount of hostility and indignation directed toward us, of which, we hope, Your Majesty is to some extent aware, and we have no small fear that, in time, through some cunning insinuations, they might succeed in confusing Your Majesty’s innocent soul; for that reason, in addition to our previously submitted draft, we most humbly submit the following brief reasons for Your Majesty’s personal and royal consideration.” Thus, some of the bishops were outraged by the statement of their colleagues, only one of whom was a member of the Holy Synod. It is unknown exactly who, through their whisperings, was confusing the Empress’s “innocent soul.” It is clear that in this case, the matter could only concern individuals from her immediate circle [527] . It seems that Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to the criticism of the Board of Economic Affairs, since it was precisely at this time that the Cabinet of Ministers demanded a report from the Board’s prosecutor on the state of the church estates under its management. The main issue raised by the two hierarchs remained unresolved, as the Empress did not wish to take their side. A note dated November 17 indicates that they were accused of rejecting the “Spiritual Regulations.” Given his views on the hierarchy, Arsenius could have meant only bishops by his “brethren.” It is not particularly important whether he was referring to synodal bishops or other hierarchs as well. Most of the bishops, including those in the Holy Synod, were Little Russians, who could not, in principle, oppose Arsenius’s proposals. The hierarchs were unanimously opposed to the collegial system of the Holy Synod and to the subordination of the Church to secular authority. In this case, the hostility toward Arsenius was apparently the result of wounded pride, stemming from the fact that Arsenius, not being a member of the Synod, dared to submit such a fundamental proposal over the Synod’s head. It is possible that the bishops feared Arsenius’s resolute and energetic character, in which they saw the most likely candidate for the patriarchate. Arseny’s ambitions provided grounds for such suspicions: by the time Arseny, together with Ambrose, submitted the “Most Humble Proposal,” the former had already been appointed by the Empress, at Ambrose’s request, as Metropolitan of Rostov and a member of the Holy Synod.

From the standpoint of its agenda, the pamphlet dated November 17, 1742, represented a significantly more moderate version of the first memorandum by the same authors: the issue of the patriarchate was barely touched upon this time. The matter was limited to pointing out that the “Spiritual Regulations,” while rejecting the patriarchate, contained no formal obstacles to the restoration of the Moscow Diocese. The second main theme was a critique of the Board of Finance. The Empress generally acceded to these requests: by a decree dated July 15, 1744, the administration of church estates was transferred from the Collegium of Economy to the Holy Synod [528] ; in July 1742, Joseph Volchansky was appointed Archbishop of Moscow (1742–1745), and on September 1 of that same year, Nicodemus Srebnitsky (1742–1745) became the first bishop of the newly established Diocese of St. Petersburg [529] . During the lifetime of Ambrose, who enjoyed the special trust of Empress Elizabeth, his influence on church affairs was strong, as is evident from the very selection of candidates for episcopal consecration and appointments to dioceses [530] . After the death of his like-minded colleague in 1745, Arseny was left alone. Due to his domineering nature, he made quite a few enemies in his diocese and in St. Petersburg. Moreover, his successful struggle against the Board of Economy did not win him any supporters among the bureaucracy [531] . Ambrose’s successor in the Holy Synod was initially the unremarkable Archbishop Stefan Kalinovsky, who, in connection with his appointment, was transferred from the Diocese of Pskov to the Diocese of Novgorod. After his death (1753), Archbishop Platon Malinovsky of Moscow became the presiding member of the Holy Synod, followed by Archbishop Silvestr Kulyabka of St. Petersburg. In 1757, he was succeeded by Dimitri Sechenov, who, as it turned out during the reign of Catherine II, disagreed with Arseny both personally and on the merits of the matter [532] . Under Elizabeth, Arseny’s plans were also opposed by the Chief Prosecutor, Prince Y. P. Shakhovskoy, who placed state interests above church affairs. His church policy found followers, and its direction remained unchanged even after the Empress, at the request of the bishops, removed him from the post he had held for 10 years [533] . Although Arseny was a Little Russian, he had no supporters among the bishops of Ukrainian origin. He also failed to establish a good relationship with the influential Count A. G. Razumovsky, who generally patronized the Little Russian bishops [534] . Nor was Archpriest F. Ya. Dubyansky, the confessor of Empress Elizabeth, counted among his friends; he enjoyed the sovereign’s trust to such a high degree that she would sometimes convey her orders to the Synod through him. And in 1763, having by then become the confessor of Catherine II, he once again failed to live up to the hopes that Arseny had placed in him. During this critical period, Arseny was apparently supported only by Chancellor Count A. P. Bestuzhev-Ryumin, who interceded on his behalf before the Empress [535] .

The fact that Arseny was forced to wage a principled struggle alone for 20 years for the rights of the Church and for the autonomy of its highest leadership is extremely characteristic of the Russian hierarchy in the first half of the 18th century. It offered him no support whatsoever, except for a superficial show of solidarity in the dispute with the Collegium of Economy over church estates. Arseny’s biographer sees in this a reflection of “the struggle between diverse ideological currents regarding the view of church governance”[536] . “The members of the Synod were increasingly willing to cooperate with the government’s plans”[537] . Such a willingness had already characterized the hierarchy in the 16th and 17th centuries. For two and a half centuries, the bishops tirelessly fought for church lands, but they always backed down when it came to matters of principle. For Arseny, the issue of church estates was also a matter of principle, for in his view it was linked to the position of the episcopate within the Church. When Catherine II decided in 1763 to cut the Gordian knot by secularizing church property, Arseny was abandoned and betrayed by his “brethren” in the Holy Synod even on this issue [538] .

By the time Empress Elizabeth died, the issue of church lands had become so acute for the government that a definitive resolution became possible. This did not happen under Elizabeth solely because such a step ran counter to the Empress’s religious sensibilities and her respect for the church hierarchy [539] . Thus, prior to the accession of Peter III, it might have seemed that the Holy Synod had prevailed in this matter. Peter III, by virtue of his upbringing and natural disposition, was a foreigner to whom Russia and its Church were alien [540] . His brief reign (December 26, 1761 – June 28, 1762) resembles that of Empress Anna. It was a period of German-Protestant dominance and a “mental yoke,” as Archbishop Ambrose Zertis-Kamensky put it in a letter to Metropolitan Arseny Maceevich, written after Catherine II’s accession to the throne [541] . Metropolitan Timofey Shcherbatsky of Moscow expressed himself even more candidly in a letter to the same recipient: the reign of Peter III “vitam nostram ad gemitus et dolores ducit” [has filled our lives with groaning and sorrow (Latin)][542] . Peter III was baptized a Lutheran and lived in Kiel until the age of 14, after which Empress Elizabeth summoned him to St. Petersburg. There, on June 29,[543] 1742, he converted to Orthodoxy, but openly expressed his contempt for the Orthodox Church and its rites, which caused outrage among his subjects and bewilderment among foreigners. Ten days before Peter III’s death, the Austrian envoy, Count Mersy-Arzanto, reported to his government: “One can scarcely imagine the astonishing contempt the tsar shows toward the dominant religion of his state”[544] . A. T. Bolotov’s memoirs mention a conversation between Peter III and Archbishop Dimitry Sechenov of Novgorod, who at that time was the senior member of the Holy Synod. The tsar expressed his desire “that of all the images found in churches, only those depicting Christ and the Virgin Mary be left in them, and that the rest be removed; also that all priests be ordered to shave their beards and, instead of long cassocks, wear the kind of clothing worn by foreign pastors”[545] . A well-informed Austrian envoy also reported this conversation to his court, adding: “The archbishop, greatly flustered, began to point out to him the various adverse consequences associated with these innovations, and finally, in particular, that if the emperor were to compel the Russian clergy to accept all of the above, he would expose them all to the danger of being killed by the mob one night. Nevertheless, the sovereign seemed very irritated by his objections and treated the aforementioned bishop very harshly; the latter will likely be exiled to Siberia.”[546] . According to the envoy, this conversation took place on June 28, 1762. Peter III’s reformist plans are evidenced by his notes from June 25 of the same year: “1) to grant freedom in all matters of religion (i.e., denominations. — I. S.), and whatever a person’s desire may be, not to coerce them (into Orthodoxy. — I. S.); 2) to accept all Westerners in general and not to subject them to scorn or condemnation; 3) to abolish prescribed fasts entirely and not to regard them as law, but as a matter of personal discretion; 4) not to condemn anyone for the sin of adultery, for even Christ did not condemn it; 5) to transfer all your former monastic peasants here to my dominion, and in their place to provide my own peasants as a stipend”[547] . As early as March 26, 1762, Peter III issued a harsh decree, which, however, was not included in the Collection of Laws. In it, the Holy Synod is accused of red tape in the affairs of petitioners. “There is only one practice (i.e., leniency. —I. S.) to the diocesan superiors, so that in this regard the Synod resembles more a guardian of the noble clergy than a strict guardian of the truth and defender of the poor and innocent… For this reason, we hereby command the Synod to strive, through the strictest oversight of justice, to eradicate such abuses… We hereby declare by our imperial decree that the slightest violation of the truth shall be regarded as the gravest state crime”[548] . During Elizabeth’s reign, the Synod had grown accustomed to a less harsh tone. However, in essence, Peter III was right: cases dragged on, and the lower clergy rarely found protection in the Synod against the arbitrariness of the bishops, who often lacked a sense of justice. In January 1762, Peter III visited the Holy Synod, where he deliberated on the issue of the status of monastic peasants [549] . As a result, a series of decrees was issued [550] , which had a positive impact on the peasants’ situation. The memory of these decrees lived on among the people for a long time, and it was no coincidence that impostors (for example, during the Pugachev Rebellion) and sectarians resorted to them. In the history of diocesan administration and monasteries, these decrees ushered in a new era (see § 10).

The emperor’s stance toward the Church and the clergy was of interest not only to foreign diplomats but also to all of St. Petersburg society, where this topic was hotly debated. Apparently, based on inaccurate information, the Prussian envoy von der Goltz reported to his sovereign, Frederick II, that a written protest signed by the archbishops and many other clergymen had been submitted to the Russian emperor [551] . After a painstaking examination of the available historical materials, the biographer of Archbishop Arsenius was unable to find any confirmation of the report regarding a collective protest by the clergy against the confiscation of church lands [552] . At the same time, he admits that Arsenius may have spoken out on his own. Nothing is known about the content or fate of this alleged document. Knowing Arsenius’s character, one cannot deny that he might indeed have vigorously objected, unlike the other hierarchs, who resignedly submitted to the emperor’s order. After all, a few months later, it was Arsenius who began the struggle against the government. It is possible that the protest he submitted was lost during the turmoil in the palace following the coup that took place three days after the Prussian envoy’s report [553] .

c) The circumstances of the palace coup on June 28, 1762, outwardly resemble the events that accompanied Empress Elizabeth’s accession to the throne [554] . Meanwhile, Catherine II’s situation differed fundamentally from that of Elizabeth Petrovna. The unique situation in which Catherine found herself after the coup shaped her entire domestic policy, and in particular, her stance toward the Church. Furthermore, when discussing church policy, one must take into account her personal religious convictions. Among the Russian autocrats, there was no other whose church policy so clearly reflected his or her personal views as that of Catherine II.

Elizaveta was placed on the throne by the Guard. She was the daughter of Peter I, of Russian descent, known for her piety, and therefore extremely popular. Catherine, on the other hand, became empress thanks to a small group of Guard officers. At first, she found herself in a sort of isolation, for she had neither connections with the dignitaries of previous reigns nor the support of the court aristocracy or the bureaucracy. Moreover, she was a German princess by birth [555] . No one knew how the church hierarchy would behave toward her. “In the early years of her reign,” writes one historian, “Catherine could not claim to have solid ground beneath her feet.” She owed her successes solely to herself. “The coup of 1762,” the same author continues, “brought to the throne a woman who was not only intelligent and tactful, but also exceptionally talented, remarkably educated, cultured, and very active”[556] . Two factors significantly influenced her church policy during the early years of her reign: a dire financial situation and the need to take the nobility’s sentiments into account. Both of these factors ultimately tipped the scales in favor of the complete secularization of church estates.

Catherine’s contemporaries marveled at the “philosophical, liberal way of thinking that she brought with her to the throne… She considered herself a disciple of Voltaire, admired Montesquieu, studied the *Encyclopédie*, and, thanks to her constant intellectual rigor, became an exceptional figure in Russian society of her time”[557] . Later, Catherine sacrificed many of the ideals of her youth, especially toward the end of her reign under the influence of the French Revolution. However, her religious convictions, formed in her youth, remained essentially unchanged. Raised in a strictly Protestant spirit, she was introduced to Orthodoxy under the guidance of Archimandrite Simon Todorsky, whom Empress Elizabeth had appointed for this purpose [558] . The latter was known as the translator of the Pietist Johann Arndt’s book *On True Christianity* (“Vom wahren Christentum”) and was himself strongly influenced by Protestantism. Therefore, his student was able to tell her father—who was concerned about her impending conversion to Orthodoxy—that “there is almost no difference between the Lutheran and Greek religions”[559] . The empress’s later extensive correspondence shows that Catherine never truly became Orthodox, just as she had never been a devout Lutheran. For her, her denominational affiliation remained a purely external matter. Throughout her long reign, she always viewed ecclesiastical and religious matters from the perspective of state interests. She sought to bridge the ideological chasm that separated her from the church hierarchy in a reasonable and tactful manner, and for the most part—though not always—she succeeded in doing so. Catherine did not have to be disingenuous with her inner circle, which was imbued with the spirit of the Enlightenment. Before the people, however, she pointedly demonstrated her strict adherence to Orthodoxy, as evidenced by her scrupulous observance of church rules and rituals. Catherine II’s true religion was 18th-century deism. Her religious views are fairly well known, both from her own statements and from the memoirs of her contemporaries. The Empress’s secretary, A. V. Khrapovitsky, who devotes considerable space in his *Diary* to Catherine’s attitude toward religious institutions, writes that once, after confession, she told him about a “strange question” her confessor had asked her: whether she believed in God. She immediately recited the Creed from memory and added: “And if they want proof, I will provide proof they never even imagined. I believe everything affirmed at the seven Ecumenical Councils, because the holy fathers of those times were closer to the apostles and were better able to understand everything than we are”[560] . Prince M. M. Shcherbatov remarks quite skeptically: “It seems there is no longer any need to ask whether she has faith in God’s law, for if she did, God’s law itself could correct her heart and direct her steps onto the path of truth. But no, intoxicated by the thoughtless reading of modern writers, she holds the Christian law in no regard whatsoever (though she pretends to be quite devout)”[561] . Another contemporary of Catherine II, Prince I. M. Dolgoruky, notes that she “was completely indifferent to all things sacred”[562] . Her attitude toward the sacraments can be judged by one of her letters to Voltaire: “As for the records of confession, we are unaware even of their name… We let everyone believe whatever they please” [As for the records of confession, they are of no importance to us… We allow everyone to believe whatever they like (French)][563] . Her skeptical attitude toward miracles is evident in the way she edited the lives of St. Sergius of Radonezh and St. Alexander Nevsky [564] ; but outwardly, she always emphasized her conscientious observance of the Church’s precepts and rites [565] . The French ambassador had already noted this during the lifetime of her husband, Peter III: “No one performs the rites prescribed by the Greek religion regarding the deceased empress more zealously than she does” (referring to the numerous memorial services that were held after Empress Elizabeth’s death right up until her burial). “The clergy and the people fully believe in her deep grief for the deceased and hold her sentiment in high regard. She observes all church holidays, all fasts, and all religious rites with extreme rigor—rites which the emperor treats with extreme levity but which, in Russia, are nevertheless held in very high esteem”[566] . Even then, Catherine made it a rule to “respecter la religion, mais ne la faire entrer pour rien dans les affaires d’État” [“To respect religion, but under no circumstances allow it to enter into matters of state” (French)][567] . By adhering to this rule, she successfully navigated many difficulties in her church policy. But deep down, the empress, of course, often could not help but laugh. In 1787, she wrote to Potemkin: “On St. Peter’s Day in Moscow, at the Assumption Cathedral, we proclaimed Platon (Levshin. – I. S.) was proclaimed metropolitan, and we sewed a diamond cross half an arshin (about 35 cm. – I. S.) in length and width, and he looked like a Kremenug peacock the whole time”[568] . Catherine II was extremely distrustful of the bishops. The exceptions were Dimitri Sechenov, who rejected the theory of “two powers,” and the kind-hearted and accommodating Gavriil Petrov, who understood well how pointless it would be to oppose the empress, especially in the second half of her reign [569] .

The theory of two independent powers—ecclesiastical and secular—had troubled the empress from the very beginning. She may have been familiar with the aforementioned notes that Arseny had presented to Empress Elizabeth. While preparing for the secularization of church lands, Catherine II had to acknowledge that such views were still alive. Prince M. M. Shcherbatov believed that Catherine’s attitude toward the theory of the “two powers” was shaped by the clergy’s ambitious claims to secular rights: “The reigning Empress, a follower of the new philosophy, certainly knows how far ecclesiastical authority should extend, and will certainly not allow it to exceed those limits. But I cannot guarantee that, should a convenient opportunity arise, the clergy will not extend its authority”[570] . It was likely these very considerations that prompted the empress to treat Metropolitan Arsenius so harshly, which constituted yet another step toward the further subjugation of the Church to the state. Catherine readily referred to herself as the “pious empress”[571] , and in one letter to Voltaire she even called herself “chef de l’Église grecque” [head of the Greek Church (French)][572] ; indeed, Grimm also refers to her as “chef de son Eglise” [head of her Church (French)][573] . The empress resolved the sensitive issue of succession by asserting that she had ascended the throne to defend the Orthodox faith [574] . This idea is emphasized in Catherine II’s manifesto on her accession to the throne dated June 28, 1762: “It became clear to all true sons of the Russian fatherland what danger was looming over the entire Russian state as a result of this very act, namely: our Orthodox Greek law was the first to sense the upheaval and the eradication of its ecclesiastical traditions, so that our Greek Church was already extremely vulnerable to the ultimate danger of a change in the ancient Orthodoxy of Russia and the adoption of a law of a different faith”[575] . The idea of saving the Church from the policies of Peter III is further emphasized in the manifesto issued on the occasion of the coronation on July 7, 1762: “Zeal for piety, love for Our Russian Fatherland… compelled Us to that (a coup d’état. — Ed.). Had We not timely fulfilled what Our very office demanded of Us in regard to God, His Church, and the holy faith, We would have been compelled to answer for this before His Terrible Judgment.” At the end of the manifesto, it is stated that the Empress’s action received a blessing from above: “He, the Almighty God, Who rules the kingdom and grants it to whomever He wills, seeing Our righteous and pious intention, has in fact blessed it”[576] . Catherine’s hypocrisy was unreservedly supported by the higher clergy, who were too frightened by the tragic change in their status under Peter III—and above all, by the loss of church estates. Although no members of the Holy Synod were among the authors of the June 28 manifesto, they immediately embraced the ideas contained therein, praising Catherine II in their sermons as a defender of the Orthodox faith [577] . Even the secularization of 1764 did not stem the tide of flattery. In connection with the publication of Catherine’s “Instruction” in 1766, the Holy Synod asserted that “the Most High ‘Instruction’ reflects a godlike desire to see the Russian people, as far as humanly possible, become the most prosperous in the world”[578] .

When convening the Commission to draft a new legal code, Catherine II did not deem it necessary to prove once again her commitment to Orthodoxy, which she usually took such pleasure in emphasizing. She personally composed a set of guidelines for this commission—the famous “Instruction.” It speaks at length of God’s will and the fear of God as the foundations of public life and the upbringing of youth [579] . But the word “Orthodox” appears only twice—as part of the phrase “our Orthodox Eastern Greek faith”[580] . Furthermore, in the instructions to the commission’s chief prosecutor, canon law was defined as “canonical regulations, or rites, based on faith”[581] . According to the “Instruction,” civil law rests on the fear of God and on God’s law, which is essentially interpreted as a moral order. For its part, civil law must ensure the unimpeded enforcement of God’s law. Thus, both laws form the foundation of education. Chapter 16 of the “Instruction,” titled “On Education,” reveals Catherine II’s Protestant-Enlightenment views. “Everyone is obliged to teach their children the fear of God as the foundation of all virtue and to instill in them all those duties— —which God requires of us in His Ten Commandments and which our Orthodox Eastern Greek faith demands in its rules and other traditions” (§ 351). “They must also instill in them a love for their fatherland and teach them to respect the established civil laws and to honor the government of their fatherland, as it cares for their well-being on earth according to God’s will” (§ 352). “That nothing be permitted which might disturb the celebration of divine services held in places designated for that purpose, and that order and proper decorum be observed by citizens during religious processions and similar ceremonies” (§ 552). Nowhere in the “Instructions” is there any mention of the dominant position of the Orthodox Church, to which it might lay claim on the basis of existing tradition. § 79 acknowledges that crimes against the faith are also crimes, but the Empress categorically opposes the forcible conversion to Orthodoxy, advocating complete religious tolerance. Chapter 20, titled “Rules of Great Importance and Necessity,” states: “In such a vast state, extending its dominion over so many different peoples, the prohibition or suppression of various faiths would be highly detrimental to the peace and security of its citizens” (§ 494). “And there is truly no other means, apart from reasonable tolerance—which is not rejected by our Orthodox faith and policy—by which all the stray sheep might be brought back to the true, faithful flock” (§ 495). “One must be very cautious in investigating cases of witchcraft and heresy,” the Empress proclaims in the following chapter [582] . It is unlikely that Catherine expected all the bishops to fully agree with her views. Therefore, she acted with diplomatic caution and established a commission to review the “Instructions” and ascertain the clergy’s opinion. It consisted of Bishop Innokenty Nechaev of Pskov, Bishop Gabriel Petrov of Tver, and Archimandrite Platon Levshin. The commission was utterly delighted and, venturing to make only a few stylistic corrections, reported to the Empress: “We marvel at the treasures of wisdom contained in this work more than we can express in words… We cannot help but express how, within the limited capacity of our minds, this work is the most perfect of its kind in the realm of legislation… Oh, may the King of kings deign to grant that this divine legislation be crowned with a happy conclusion, and that this may bring joy to the most benevolent heart of Her Imperial Majesty”[583] .

In their eulogies, the members of the commission did not deem it necessary to point out that the Commission on the Draft of the New Code of Laws did not include a single representative of the numerous clergy, whereas even the Samoyeds were permitted to send their own delegate with appropriate instructions. Serfs were also excluded; they were to be represented by their landowners [584] . It was suggested that the Holy Synod deemed it unnecessary to hold elections for representatives of the clergy, allegedly because the delegate from the Holy Synod, Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov, could be considered simultaneously a representative of the clergy, whose needs were well known to the Synod [585] . But was the Synod truly informed about the needs of the clergy? The Holy Synod itself had its doubts and sought the opinions of a number of bishops. The bishops, in turn, consulted the parish clergy of their dioceses (as was the case, for example, in Little Russia). Among Catherine’s drafts, a note was found that appears to indicate that the Empress wished to leave it to the Synod to resolve the issue of representation by the clergy: “And as for the selection and dispatch of clergy to said Code, as much as the Most Holy Governing Synod deems fit.” It remains unclear whether Catherine meant representatives of the clergy in general or specifically those of the Most Holy Synod. Perhaps the clergy’s non-participation can be explained by the dissatisfaction that their activities in previous legislative commissions of this kind had caused, even before the reign of Catherine II [586] . In the Prosecutor General’s report to the Empress, we read: “As for the clergy, the Holy Synod, having spiritual and ecclesiastical provisions, adheres to its previous statutes. However, in the event that any provision concerns clergy, then deputies from the Holy Synod may be summoned to the assembly for deliberation.” This attitude toward the clergy is also reflected in the fact that the Holy Synod was not included in the list of institutions to which copies of the “Instruction” were sent [587] .

The Holy Synod chose Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov of Novgorod as its representative, equipping him with an Order that had been drafted following a discussion of the points outlined by the Synod [588] . The Synod interpreted the ambiguous text of the 1766 decree to mean that its representative should also serve as the representative of the clergy as a whole. Therefore, in addition to matters of church administration, the Synod’s Instructions also contained provisions concerning the status of the clergy in the dioceses. For unknown reasons, while the Synod was preparing the Decree, only four members of the Synod who were absent from St. Petersburg were asked to submit their written opinions on the status of the clergy; and only after the Decree had been drafted and approved, on September 1, 1767, did the Synod request feedback from three more bishops from the Little Russian dioceses [589] . At the meeting of the Holy Synod on March 20, 1767, the Synod members present (Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov, Archbishop Ambrose Zertis-Kamensky of Krutitsy, Bishop Palladius Yuryev of Ryazan, and Archimandrite Simon Lagov of the Novospassky Monastery) decided to instruct the aforementioned four absent synodal bishops “to determine what should be included in the draft of the new Code to be submitted to the deputy in the instructions, regarding matters pertaining to the Church and the clergy, to draft specific provisions on these matters, and to submit them to the Most Holy Synod for consideration.” Since the secularization of church estates had not yet been carried out in Little Russia, a slightly different text was addressed to the bishops there: “To draft detailed provisions regarding the landholdings, estates, and other benefits belonging to the Little Russian clergy there, and to send them to the Most Holy Governing Synod for review”[590] . It was impossible to wait for the reports requested from the dioceses, which did not arrive until August 18, 1768: as early as August 2, 1767, the Most Holy Synod had already forwarded the directive to its delegate, Archbishop Dimitri. The responses from the dioceses were drafted independently by the Great Russian bishops, while those from the Little Russian bishops were prepared only after consulting the white clergy and the monasteries of Kiev-Pechersk and Mezhigorsk [591] .

The Decree was based on six points proposed by Archbishop Dimitri, which were signed by the aforementioned bishops. The Decree of the Holy Synod expresses the fundamental desire “to confirm the Holy Governing Synod on the same basis in every respect as it was established under the late Emperor Peter the Great—of blessed and eternal glory—and placed on an equal footing with the Governing Senate.” In this regard, Archbishop Dimitri submitted a special petition to the Empress. The second fundamental point in the Decree of the Holy Synod was the request, “that the rules and regulations established by the holy apostles and at the seven Ecumenical and nine Local Councils—pertaining to church administration and accepted by our Church—be upheld through the confirmation of Her Imperial Majesty (! – I. S.)”. The following issues were also addressed: 1) the eradication of superstition, which is spreading in various ways among the Orthodox; 2) bishops, the clergy, and all church servants; 3) limiting the number of parish churches; 4) the discipline of laypeople to the extent that, “according to the ‘Spiritual Regulations,’ every person of any rank is subject in spiritual matters to the jurisdiction of the bishop in whose diocese he resides”; 5) marriages; 6) annulments of marriages. In terms of their content, these provisions of the Decree are closely aligned with the “Spiritual Regulations.” Of particular note is the provision expressed in Section 2, “On Priests and Church Servants,” which calls for “granting permission to laypeople of all ranks who so desire and are deemed worthy to enter the clergy.” According to the “Spiritual Regulations,” this was possible, but in practice it happened very rarely. The Holy Synod specifically stipulated that parish priests should not be elected at community meetings (where such meetings took place), but should be appointed by the diocesan bishops themselves, as a rule, from among seminarians. If, however, there was no candidate nominated by the bishop, “then in such a case, the parishioners of those churches were to make the selection, but only on the condition that those parishioners accurately attest to the integrity of the chosen candidate, in accordance with the provisions of the ‘Spiritual Regulations’”[592] . This decree of the Holy Synod was destined to share the fate of other similar decrees: on January 12, 1769, the commission was dissolved [593] .

It should be emphasized that the clergy, deprived of the right to send their own delegates to the commission, took a keen interest in its work: “they sought to infiltrate it (the commission—Ed.) indirectly, through roundabout means, primarily by influencing the election of city deputies and the drafting of city mandates”[594] . Among the petitions of individual towns, we find the signatures of priests, the legitimacy of which was difficult to dispute, since the imperial “Decree” did not prohibit the clergy—who were, among other things, municipal taxpayers—from participating in the drafting of municipal petitions. Thus, the signatures of clergymen appear in the decrees of the cities of Dmitrovsk, Peremyshl, Vereya, Uglich, and others. The Uglich decree was signed by no fewer than 22 representatives of the clergy; one of them, Ivan Sukhoprudsky, an employee of the clerical administration’s office, was even elected as a city delegate. The petitions from Kolomna and Rostov, among other things, also addressed the needs of the clergy. It seems likely that the towns welcomed the clergy’s participation in drafting the petitions, as their education significantly facilitated this complex task. The population took such participation for granted, for they viewed the clergy as full-fledged fellow citizens.

Moreover, the commission itself could not avoid addressing matters concerning the needs of the clergy. As early as August 1767, it was decided to organize a subcommittee (“private commission”) on ecclesiastical affairs, but this had to be temporarily postponed, since only one of its members, the aforementioned Sukhoprudsky, belonged to the clergy. The subcommittee was formed in May 1768 and consisted of two high-ranking officials, two major generals, and another Guards officer. After all three military members left, the subcommittee’s members became Ivan Sukhoprudsky, a clerk from Uglich; one deputy from the nobility; and a representative of the Ukrainian military settlements. We know nothing about the activities of this subcommittee [595] . On June 26, 1768, one of the subcommittees drafted a bill “On the Rights of the Middle Class of Residents.” This draft was sent to the Holy Synod, since Chapter 4 addressed “the rights of the white clergy, inasmuch as they are classified among the middle class”[596] . The bill addresses both the personal and property rights of these clergymen, and their classification as part of the middle class is justified by their official status and education. The second part of the draft (personal rights) states: “Clergymen, as people specially consecrated to lawful and divine service and who are teachers of the people, must be accorded special honor and respect for their office by the laity” (§ 5). Therefore, “clergy and active church ministers who have been ordained may not be subjected to corporal punishment until they are removed from their office” (§ 12). They shall not be required to perform any public labor, with the exception of work in front of their own homes to maintain cleanliness in the city (§ 13). They are to enjoy one of the privileges of the nobility—the right to ride in carriages (§ 14). Their sons have preferential access to seminaries and other diocesan educational institutions (§ 15). The clergy is exempt from the poll tax and from conscription. It shall not be called upon for civil service and, in spiritual and ecclesiastical matters, is subject exclusively to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The clergy has the right to decline guardianship. Civil cases against clergy members are heard only in the presence of a representative of the church administration (§ 6–11). In the third part of the draft, the clergy is exempt from lodging taxes and related levies, as well as from duties related to grazing livestock and fire protection. It is granted the right to rent out rooms in their homes for shops (§ 16–18). In the first part of the draft, the clergy is divided into priests and church ministers; the appointment of both is carried out in accordance with church rules.

The Holy Synod’s response was received as early as January 12, 1769. Fundamental objections were raised only regarding the paragraphs of the first part—for example, the complete omission of the higher clergy, as well as the Little Russian clergy, which, by law, enjoyed special privileges. But the main point of disagreement concerned the classification of the clergy as belonging to the “middle class.” Instead of distinguishing between the white and black clergy, in the opinion of the Holy Synod, a division based on a different principle should have been applied, “since within the clergy there are those who hold governing positions, namely: metropolitans, archbishops, bishops, archimandrites, abbots, and archpriests; while others are governed, such as: hieromonks, priests, protodeacons, deacons, subdeacons, and other church ministers; therefore, rather than designating only one part of the clergy as ‘white,’ the clergy should be divided into lower and higher clergy, so that the former term encompasses those in positions of authority and the latter those under their authority. And just as the lower clergy, called “white,” has been granted rights by the commission on the middle class, so it is justly required that the higher clergy also be granted such rights” (§ 2). The clergy should not be classified as part of the “middle class,” “but should be placed in a special class; and to what degree, in comparison with other classes, this depends solely on the merciful will of Her Imperial Majesty, our most pious Monarch, for all clergy, by virtue of their office, are shepherds and teachers of all classes of people.” In this regard, the Holy Synod refers to Peter the Great’s decree of 1714, under which nobles are permitted to enter the clerical estate, and points to the privileges of the Ukrainian clergy, which is equated with the civil service and the szlachta, similar to the situation in Byzantium, where the clergy was, in terms of social class, equated with the nobility.

In its response, the subcommittee informed the Holy Synod that “it had no intention of prescribing rights to the clergy as a whole, but solely to one part of it, namely, those who, through their carnal cohabitation, fall under secular laws.” The division of the clergy proposed by the Synod “pertains to the dogmas of the faith and to ecclesiastical law… which, even before the special commission… cannot fall within its purview”[597] . Accordingly, the subcommittee decided to leave the relevant text of the law unchanged, since clergymen are “citizens”—that is, urban residents—and it is by virtue of this social status, and not at all by virtue of their clerical rank, that they are engaged in secular “cohabitation.”

Ever since bishops of Little Russian origin dared to object in 1764 to the proposed secularization of church lands, the Empress’s distrust of the episcopate turned with particular intensity against the Little Russians. That same year, Catherine, in one of her letters, spoke of the “insatiable lust for power” of graduates of the Kiev Academy and began to favor Great Russians over Little Russians when appointing bishops. Judging by the lists of members of the Holy Synod, Little Russians were appointed to this body only rarely [598] . The Metropolitan of Rostov, Arseny Matseevich, felt the full brunt of the empress’s policy.

The implementation of Peter III’s decrees coincided with the accession of Catherine II, which prompted Arseny Matseevich to submit another report to the empress, sent by special messenger. The messenger arrived in the midst of the coronation celebrations, and Arseny’s report was shelved in the archives, likely not without the intervention of Archbishop Dimitry Sechenov, as suggested by the biographer of Metropolitan Arseny,[599] . On July 18, 1762, a historic event took place that was destined to determine the Empress’s position regarding the Little Russian episcopate: at a joint session of the Senate and the Holy Synod convened by imperial decree, the Great Russian hierarchs—Dimitri Sechenov and Bishop Palladius Yuryev of Ryazan—supported the Senate’s proposal, while the Little Russians—Bishop Athanasius Volkhovsky of Tver, Bishop Gedeon Krinovsky of Pskov, and Archbishop Veniamin Putshek-Grigorovich of St. Petersburg—protested against it [600] . The Senate intended to deduct 50 kopecks from every ruble of the peasants’ per capita tax in favor of the Synod, while entrusting the management of church estates to the Church itself. Athanasius considered the remaining sum insufficient to cover the expenses of the diocesan administrations, monasteries, and seminaries. He demanded the full return of church lands and expressed his willingness, in exchange, to guarantee the treasury the sum of 300,000 rubles for charitable purposes. In response, Dimitri Sechenov proposed forming a joint secular-ecclesiastical commission to transfer the diocesan administrations to state funding. Subsequently, this proposal was taken up by Catherine [601] . Under pressure from her entourage and Senator Prince Y. P. Shakhovsky—whose authority as a former chief prosecutor was quite high—and in view of the extreme complexity of the issue of church estates, further complicated by disagreements within the Synod itself, the Empress decided, as a first step, to seek advice from a longtime associate of Elizabeth’s, Count A. P. Bestuzhev-Ryumin, with whom, incidentally, Arseny had already managed to establish contact. On August 12, 1762, Catherine II issued a manifesto in which church estates were transferred to the Church’s administration with the following proviso: “We have neither the intention nor the desire to appropriate church estates for ourselves, but We do have the authority to enact laws regarding their best use for the glory of God and the benefit of the fatherland.” The manifesto announced the establishment of a joint secular-ecclesiastical commission to discuss this issue [602] . Arseny was well aware of the disagreements within the Synod involving the Ukrainian bishops. He did not approve of the manifesto. “What will follow, I do not know—it is in God’s hands,” he wrote to Bishop Damaskin of Kostroma, also known as Askaronsky (1758–1769). “We must only pray to God,” Arseny continued, “that He may have mercy on His Church, just as He had mercy during the time of St. Alexius, Metropolitan of Moscow, under Tatar rule (i.e., under Tatar rule—Ed.)”[603] . On Orthodoxy Sunday, February 9, 1763, Arseny celebrated a festive divine service before the council of the Rostov clergy, including the customary anathema against heretics and enemies of the Church; however, he made his own additions to the text. “All those who violate and harm the holy churches and monasteries of God, depriving them of the property granted to them… as the worst enemies of God, let them be cursed”—such was the text edited by Arseny, solemnly proclaimed by the protodeacon during the service. Nevertheless, Arseny—who, much to his chagrin, had not been invited to the coronation—was counting on meeting the empress, since she intended to come to Rostov for the transfer of the relics of St. Dimitry of Rostov into a new silver reliquary, arranged through the zeal of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna. But Catherine kept postponing her arrival [604] .

Meanwhile, the commission announced in the manifesto to discuss the issue of church estates was formed, and on November 29, 1762, it was provided with specific instructions. Its members from the clergy included Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov, the newly appointed Archbishop of St. Petersburg, Gabriel Kremenetsky, whom Dimitri could count on as an ally, and the young, recently consecrated Bishop of Pereyaslav, Sylvester Starogorodsky, who shared Arseny’s views but lacked the courage to voice them before the commission. Among the five secular members of the commission, Prince A. S. Kozlovsky, the Ober-Procurator, and especially the energetic State Secretary to the Empress, G. I. Teplov, who was exceptionally active within the commission, deserve mention [605] . Arseny received a copy of the instructions dated November 29, delivered to him personally by Silvestr in February 1763. After reviewing them and realizing that the imperial visit had been postponed indefinitely, Arseny decided to expedite the matter. On March 6, 1763, he sent his first report to the Holy Synod [606] , in which he criticized the manifesto of August 12 and the instructions of November 29.

The author emphasizes that prior to Peter III, all princes and tsars had recognized the Church’s right of ownership over church estates, and recalls that in her manifestos, the empress had declared herself the protector of Orthodoxy. The commission sent accounting books to monasteries and diocesan administrations, a practice that was unheard of even under the Tatar khans, who, on the contrary, explicitly recognized the Church’s land ownership. Arseny then challenges those parts of the instruction that concern theological schools. He speaks out against establishing schools in remote areas, “in mud and swamps,” and, like his famous 16th-century like-minded colleague Joseph of Volotsk, draws particular attention to the importance of monasteries in the education of future bishops. Such innovations, Arsenius believes, could lead to “our state becoming… with all these academies… either a schismatic, Lutheran, Calvinist, or atheist state.” The author is quite harsh toward the members of the Holy Synod, who, “like mute dogs, watch without barking,” sitting idly by, not daring to object to the court officials hostile to the Church in the empress’s entourage. Copies of the report were also sent to Count Bestuzhev-Ryumin and the Empress’s confessor, F. I. Dubyansky [607] . As early as March 1415, Arseny wrote his second report. In it, he asserted that the commission’s continued work in the same spirit would lead “to the destruction of the Church and piety”[608] . In both of his writings, Arseny carefully avoided any personal attacks on the empress—perhaps in the hope of winning her favor. But he underestimated the government’s determination to finally cut through the two-century-old Gordian knot and settle the issue of church estates, and with his attacks against the Holy Synod, he incurred the hatred of its members, among whom Archbishop Dimitri played a decisive role.

Arsenius’s first report was delivered to the Holy Synod in Moscow, where he had traveled for Catherine’s coronation. Arseny’s biographer, after reviewing the Synod’s records and minutes, determined that no actual Synod sessions took place during that period and that Arseny’s message may not have been brought to the attention of all Synod members. A report on this matter, on behalf of the Holy Synod, was drafted by Dimitri Sechenov and presented to the Empress [609] . Arseny’s letter, as Dimitri summarizes, constitutes “an insult to Her Imperial Majesty, for which he (Arseny. – I. S.) deserves severe condemnation. But without the knowledge of Her Imperial Majesty, the Holy Synod dares not take action, and leaves the matter to Her Imperial Majesty’s highest discretion and unparalleled mercy.” This report was signed by Dimitri Sechenov, Timofei Shcherbatsky, Gavriil Petrov, Gedeon Krinovsky, and Afanasy Volkhovsky; the signatures of Amvrosy Zertis-Kamensky and Silvestr Starogorodsky—two members of the Synod who sympathized with Arseny—are missing. The Empress’s handwritten directive, forwarded to the Synod the very next day, outlined the main features of the verdict she expected from the Synod and gave the matter a purely political turn, for the Most Holy Synod itself had deemed it an insult to Her Majesty, as the Empress noted. She “hopes” that the Holy Synod will recognize that the authority of “pious monarchs… must be preserved and defended for the common good of all true sons of the fatherland.” In Arseny’s letter, Catherine discerned “perverse and scandalous interpretations of many words of Holy Scripture and the books of the saints.” In order to safeguard the “everlasting peace” of her “loyal subjects,” she commits Arseny to the Holy Synod “for a just trial, as established by law.” The court’s verdict is to be submitted to her for approval, “at which time my clemency and benevolence will also be exercised”[610] .

The Holy Synod’s first step was to arrest Arseny and confine him to a cell at the Simonov Monastery in Moscow (March 17, 1763). While the Synod, evidently on the orders of Dimitri Sechenov, was retrieving from its archives materials concerning Arseny’s previous acts of insubordination, the first interrogation of the metropolitan was taking place in the imperial palace in the presence of Prosecutor General Glebov [611] . On that day, Catherine II wrote to Count Bestuzhev-Ryumin, who was apparently attempting to intercede on behalf of the Metropolitan of Rostov, noting that up to that point she had given no cause to doubt her mercy and compassion. “Previously, and without any ceremony or formality, and for matters not even as important as these, the heads of the Most Reverend were chopped off… and I do not know how I could maintain and strengthen the peace and prosperity of the people (not to mention the defense and preservation of the authority granted to me by God) if the rebels were not punished”[612] . Having examined the anathemas added by Arsenius during Orthodoxy Week and his correspondence, and taking into account the old synodal decree of 1743, in which Arsenius was reprimanded for “scathing statements and objections”[613] , the Holy Synod resolved to strip him of his episcopal rank and exile him to a remote monastery “under strict supervision, and to provide him with neither paper nor ink there.” In its report to the Empress, the Synod indicated that Arsenius should also be tried under civil law and commended him to the Empress’s mercy. Catherine upheld the Synod’s verdict, though she spared the condemned man “out of compassion” from “civil trial and torture.” She ordered that this verdict be communicated to the clergy of all dioceses [614] . The published verdict makes no mention of insulting the majesty. The Holy Synod mentions only the “extremely reprehensible and slanderous remarks” that Arseny directed at the Holy Synod, “having misunderstood and misinterpreted the now most beneficial distribution of church property” and “having disregarded what he owed to this high spiritual assembly, in which Her Imperial Majesty deigns to preside.” Arseny dared, it goes on to say, in support of his views, “to interpret Holy Scripture and the tradition of the holy fathers in a perverse and cunning manner.” Perhaps the most interesting of the arguments cited is the confirmation of the idea—later expressed by Catherine herself—of her role as “chef de l’Eglise.” A corresponding decree of the Senate was also published, listing Arseny’s offenses. As a simple monk, Arseny was exiled first to the Ferapontov Monastery in the Vologda Diocese, and then, by personal decree of the Empress, to the Nikolaevsky Korelsky Monastery in the Arkhangelsk Diocese [615] . In one of her letters to Voltaire, Catherine II was quick to emphasize that she had spared Arseny from a secular trial: “I forgave him and was content to make him an (ordinary—Ed.) monk”[616] .

Shortly thereafter, letters from several bishops were found in Arseny’s monastic cell, containing incriminating material that could have led to a series of trials. Bishop Damaskin was interrogated in Moscow, and Sylvester received a reprimand from the Empress. However, in view of the threat of upheaval throughout the entire structure of the Church, the Holy Synod—apparently with the consent of Catherine II—refused to continue the investigation of the case, which was placed in the archives. But Arsenius’s troubles did not end there. Following a denunciation by one of the monks, a state investigative commission, after questioning monks, security guards, and officers, determined that Arseny was being held in the monastery with honors, as a bishop, and had the opportunity to receive visitors, during which he delivered seditious speeches against the Empress. After reviewing the commission’s report, the Empress ordered that Arseny be stripped of his monastic rank, given the name Andrei Vral, dressed in peasant clothing, and sent to the Reval Fortress, where he was imprisoned in a cell, guarded by soldiers of non-Russian nationality. There, on February 28, 1772, he died and was buried at one of the parish churches [617] .

On February 28, 1764, a manifesto on the secularization of church estates was published, which finally resolved this contentious issue. It seems that Dimitri Sechenov was the only staunch supporter of this decision within the entire Russian church hierarchy, which agreed with Arsenius but lacked his courage, his tenacity, and, above all, his firm belief in the justice of the Church’s claims to land ownership.

Arseny’s death marked the final act in a centuries-long struggle for the idea of the Church’s independence from the state. Only a few of the hierarchs championed this idea, such as Saint Philip, Metropolitan of Moscow, during the reign of Ivan IV, or Patriarch Nikon during the reign of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Arsenius shared Nikon’s view on the significance of episcopal authority, although he did not focus on the political and ecclesiastical implications of this view. He was an advocate for the complete separation of powers between the Church and the state. This principled stance of Arsenius could be read between the lines in his writings (including those from the time of Empress Elizabeth), which on the surface appeared to be devoted solely to the issue of church estates and the abolition of the Collegium of Economy’s control over them—and this did not escape the attention of the astute Empress Catherine. As a last resort, Arseny was prepared to accept the continued existence of the Holy Synod, since no better alternative was in sight. In theory, in complex situations, he—in his own words—even recognized the monarch’s right to make arbitrary decisions. But in practice, Arseny envisioned the Holy Synod as completely independent of the state and headed either by the patriarch or by another hierarch equal to him in authority. These matters of principle held little interest for the government. For the government, purely practical considerations were decisive. In the 16th century, the state had still agreed to leave the wealth of church estates in the hands of the Church. By the 18th century, however, it could no longer refrain from utilizing the Church’s vast landholdings. The challenges facing the state treasury and its financial difficulties had multiplied many times over during this period and had become infinitely more complex. And yet the personal religious convictions of the monarchs—whether Peter III’s “Protestantism” or Catherine II’s “piety”—were not all that important. Regardless of these beliefs, the long-simmering problem itself pushed for a resolution that was directly opposed to Arseny’s wishes. All his protests against secularization were bound to prove futile [618] .

Arseny’s notes to Empress Elizabeth in 1762–1763 had far-reaching consequences in an entirely different regard: they definitively shaped Catherine II’s ecclesiastical and political stance. She recognized the significance of church lands and fully understood the difficulties that might await the state if the lands remained in the hands of the Church, whose entire hierarchy, in principle, shared Arseny’s ideas. The Empress quickly became convinced that the episcopate, with the exception of Dimitri Sechenov, sympathized with Arseny. This led her to the conclusion that she must reckon with the possibility of ecclesiastical-political opposition, which, based on the theory of “two powers,” could pose a danger both to her personally and to the very idea of autocracy. In her “Instruction” and other documents, Catherine vigorously and persistently defended autocracy. In doing so, she appealed both to reason and to the traditional beliefs of the people and the Church, justifying her accession to the throne and autocracy in the interests of the Orthodox faith. In her manifesto of August 12, 1762, a certain uncertainty was still discernible, which inspired Arseny to continue his struggle. His report appeals to an ideological fiction—the “pious” empress—arguing solely against the Holy Synod and the Commission on Church Estates. Arseny’s diplomacy could not deceive Catherine; she managed to discern the hidden danger that both the note itself and its author posed to her personally. From that moment on, in her eyes, the issue of church lands became intertwined with the political struggle for power between the autocrat and the Church. She set herself the task of subjugating the Church to the state and made the principle of “respecting religion, but under no circumstances allowing it to interfere in state affairs” the foundation of her policy. The bishops remained silent, not daring to object, while the Empress closely monitored church administration and the execution of her orders. She appointed insignificant figures as chief prosecutors, preferring to convey her orders to the Holy Synod primarily through Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of St. Petersburg, a conciliatory man who was entirely devoted to her. This diplomatic maneuver proved highly successful: it created the impression that the Empress was not abusing the presence of a state representative in the Holy Synod and was consulting directly with one of the leading hierarchs. Only a few were able to fathom Catherine’s policy. Among them was Metropolitan Platon Levshin of Moscow (1775–1812), who condemned the flattery of the bishops as “the most harmful vice”: “It (this vice—I. S.) hides the truth from us, or worse, presents lies as truth, deceit as wisdom, and cunning as prudence… and thereby disrupts the harmony between heaven and earth and fills all human affairs with darkness and confusion.” Platon understood the nature of the empress’s church policy and was very reluctant to participate in the sessions of the Holy Synod: “My spirit is far too distant from desiring to join that government assembly, known to you and to all,” he wrote in 1797 to his student and friend, Bishop Methodius Smirnov of Voronezh (1795–1798). This letter dates from a time when Catherine’s church policy had already been firmly established—“her so-called policy,” as Platon put it in his autobiography *[619] *.

Isolated protests by the clergy against secularization, which were severely punished, only deepened the empress’s distrust [620] . In this context, the name of Metropolitan Pavel Konyushkevich of Tobolsk and Siberia (1758–1768) is usually mentioned; he was allegedly stripped of his see for exceeding his authority and disobeying the Holy Synod and, with the empress’s permission, retired to the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra († 1770). However, the biographer of Metropolitan Arsenius found no documents in the Synod’s archives confirming Pavel’s opposition to the policy of secularization, although as a Little Russian he undoubtedly secretly sympathized with Arsenius. The Empress was aware of the cruelty and harshness with which Metropolitan Paul treated the clergy under his authority and saw in this a grotesque consequence of the theory of the unlimited power of bishops propagated by Arsenius; at the same time, she preferred not to escalate the matter into a high-profile trial, especially after the investigation against Arseny had caused such a stir [621] .

But with regard to another prominent hierarch, the empress’s church policy proved to be harsher. As already mentioned, Archbishop Veniamin Putshek-Grigorovich of St. Petersburg had the courage to speak out against secularization at a joint conference of the Senate and the Synod on July 18, 1762. As early as July 25, Veniamin was transferred from St. Petersburg to Kazan. During the secularization process, he did not express his views on it in any way. After the suppression of the Pugachev Rebellion—during which the archbishop demonstrated firmness and steadfastness—he was slandered before General P. S. Potemkin, chairman of the state investigative commission, and falsely accused of actively supporting Pugachev. Archbishop Veniamin was subjected to humiliating interrogations as a state criminal. Afterward, the case was submitted to the Empress; fortunately, the archbishop managed to personally deliver a letter of exoneration to Catherine. The following year, the Empress became convinced of the falsity of the charges. The archbishop was declared innocent and made a metropolitan. The elder, who had suffered a stroke during his pretrial detention, retired to a monastery, where he died in 1783.[622]

Catherine II’s decrees on religious tolerance had a beneficial effect on the stance of the hierarchy, which had previously shown intolerance toward those of other faiths; these decrees, above all, alleviated the plight of the Old Believers. In this matter, the empress acted in the spirit of the times, paying homage to the Enlightenment, a point she consistently emphasized in her letters to Grimm and Voltaire. It is reasonable to assume that the policy of religious tolerance was entirely consistent with her own sincere convictions [623] .

d) During the brief reign of Paul I (November 6, 1796 – March 11, 1801), no significant changes occurred in the relationship between the Church and the state. The inertia of the principles established by Catherine proved stronger than the reformist aspirations of the new emperor, who disagreed with his mother’s policies [624] . A historian of Paul I’s era notes that “during Paul’s reign, the Synod, in terms of authority and significance, ranked below the Senate and was close in status to the collegia and ministries”[625] . Paul was highly prone to mood swings, which, however, did not affect the foundations of his convictions. Among these were his high regard for the essence of autocracy and his mystical religiosity. As heir to the throne, Catherine appointed as his tutor the young and gifted hieromonk Platon Levshin—later Metropolitan of Moscow—who was tasked with raising Paul in the spirit of the Orthodox faith. Consequently, the emperor’s attitude toward the clergy was entirely favorable. Imbued with the conviction that imperial power was inherently religious, Paul considered his personal intervention in matters of church administration to be entirely natural. He would forward some of his decrees to the General Prosecutor for onward transmission to the Chief Prosecutor or the Holy Synod. In general, he treated the bishops with great kindness, cared for the lower clergy, and took an interest in improving theological educational institutions [626] . In keeping with his character, he sometimes expressed his attitude toward the hierarchs in rather eccentric ways. He enjoyed appointing a bishop as a member of the Holy Synod only to effectively bar him from participating in its work—as he did, for example, with Metropolitan Gabriel Banulescu-Bodoni of Kyiv (1799–1803)[627] . Despite the objections of the hierarchs (Metropolitans Gabriel Petrov and Platon), he awarded orders to bishops. Metropolitan Platon, whom Paul intended to honor, had to beg the tsar on his knees not to do so. Upon becoming Grand Master of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, Paul awarded the order to several bishops and elevated court priests to the rank of Knights of the Order. Archbishop Irenaeus Klementievsky of Pskov (1798–1814) even received the sash of an adjutant general to wear over his monastic robes [628] . Paul could not stand his mother’s favorite, Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of Novgorod and St. Petersburg ; in 1799, he left him only the See of Novgorod, from which Gabriel retired the very next year († January 16, 1801)[629] . The emperor appointed Ambrose Podobedov (1742–1818), Archbishop of Kazan and a member of the Holy Synod since 1795, to St. Petersburg; he thereby became the senior member of the Synod. The Emperor was very fond of Ambrose, who received numerous orders and other tokens of favor and, as was rumored in the capital, had a chance of becoming patriarch [630] . Given Paul I’s character, this would by no means seem impossible. “We regard the reform of the Church and care for those who serve it as one of the foremost duties of our reign,” Paul declared in his decree on the transformation of the Alexander Nevsky and Kazan seminaries into academies [631] .

The day before Emperor Paul’s assassination, Ambrose was elevated to the rank of metropolitan. Under the new regime of Alexander I (March 12, 1801 – November 19, 1825), the metropolitan faced considerable difficulties. While under Paul I he had succeeded in having Prince V. A. Khovansky removed from the post of Chief Prosecutor and D. I. Khvostov appointed in his place, he now had to accept the dismissal of his own protégé. Alexander I appointed A. A. Yakovlev as Chief Prosecutor; Yakovlev’s views on his official duties were in many respects reminiscent of those of the energetic Chief Prosecutor from the time of Elizabeth Petrovna, Prince Y. P. Shakhovsky. Both essentially foreshadowed the future chief prosecutors of the nineteenth century, who were able to pursue their goals with tenacity and consistency. Yakovlev left behind memoirs filled with sharply negative assessments of members of the Holy Synod and many diocesan bishops. He complains of constant conflicts with Metropolitan Ambrose over disorder in the diocesan administrations and the bishops’ boundless despotic arbitrariness toward the parish clergy. In the Synod, he writes, all complaints about this were shelved indefinitely. The Holy Synod “covered its deeds with its sacred cassock, the darkness of which surpassed the deeds themselves. Moreover, the majority of the Synod’s members were themselves such diocesan despots”[632] .

With the appointment of Prince A. N. Golitsyn as Yakovlev’s successor, a new chapter began in relations between the Church and the state. Whereas previously the sovereigns personally directed church policy and, in accordance with their personal views, intervened in the administration of the Church through decrees—often bypassing the Ober-Procurator—the Ober-Procurators now became the state’s sole representatives in relation to the Church. The transformation of church administration into a bureaucratic department and its gradual integration into the state apparatus—a process that began during the first decade of Golitsyn’s tenure as Ober-Procurator—marked the culmination of what Catherine II had begun. There is no basis for attributing this development solely to the personal views of Alexander I. The extensive literature on the emperor’s religious beliefs during the second period of his reign reflects only the emotional aspect of his religiosity—which was marked by sharp mood swings—but says nothing about his principled stance on the question of relations between the state and the Church. Alexander attempted to win the bishops’ favor through ostentatious deference: he willingly approached them to receive their blessing, never forgetting the customary kissing of the bishop’s hand. Despite outward enthusiasm for the emperor’s manners, deep down many bishops seem to have held a very different opinion of him. Alexander was “deceitful,” as Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov once remarked [633] . The last biographer of Alexander I, Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich, says of him: “Duplicity never left Alexander, constituting a fundamental trait of his character… It allowed him to work simultaneously with Speransky and Arakcheyev, with Arakcheyev and A. N. Golitsyn, as well as with Volkonsky; he could listen to and follow Metternich’s advice while spending hours with Capodistria; while Alexander was charming Napoleon at Tilsit and Erfurt, he calmly wrote to his mother about the ways in which his power might be broken; Through one door, Chancellor Rumyantsev would enter in good faith, while through another, Koshelev would slip in secretly; from one entrance, an English Quaker or some other sectarian would arrive, while from the other, a poor monk or the metropolitan himself would enter; at one hour he would be conversing with Karamzin about the monarch’s lofty sense of duty to his homeland, while at another time Alexander might calmly listen to someone like Magnitsky; and what is most remarkable is that all these people left the sovereign’s study enchanted and often imagined that His Majesty had deigned to share their way of thinking”[634] . It has become a commonplace in historical works to believe that, during the early period of his reign, Alexander I was a proponent of liberal ideas—which could have led to innovations such as those so feared by, for example, Metropolitan Amvrosy Podobedov—and that his conservative course began only with the second period of his reign. But here is what Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich writes: “Emperor Alexander I was never a reformer, and in the early years of his reign he was more conservative than any of the advisors surrounding him”[635] . This influenced the entire church policy of that time, right up to the early years of Nicholas I’s reign. And the conservative spirit of the Nicholas regime cannot in any way be reduced solely to the aftermath of the upheaval experienced during the uprising of December 14, 1825.

During his many years of service as Chief Prosecutor, Prince Golitsyn also had to contend with both the capricious mood swings and the pretense of Emperor Alexander I. Upon taking office, Golitsyn was completely unfamiliar with church affairs and entirely indifferent to Orthodoxy. In the final years of his life, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov described the arrival of the new Chief Prosecutor at the Holy Synod as follows: “When the emperor appointed him Chief Prosecutor, he said, ‘What kind of Chief Prosecutor of the Synod am I? You know that I have no faith.’— “Come on, you rascal, you’ll settle down.” – “But then,” Golitsyn later said, “when I saw that the members of the Synod were taking their duties seriously—not as a mere craft, but with conviction—I gradually began to take the matters of faith and the Church more seriously and with greater reverence”[636] . The plausibility of these words by Metropolitan Filaret is confirmed by the facts: in the early years of his reign, Alexander I did indeed take little interest in church administration, and Golitsyn was quite distant from religion. The attitudes of both men toward matters of faith changed significantly over time—under the influence of the spirit of the age and personal spiritual crises. Yakovlev, upon becoming Chief Prosecutor, studied the “Spiritual Regulations” in order to assume his post; Golitsyn, meanwhile, in search of a non-bureaucratic approach to spiritual matters, turned to the Holy Scriptures. As for church policy, the results in both cases turned out to be the same—the subordination of the Synod to the will of the Chief Prosecutor. Yakovlev had already secured for himself the right to report directly to the sovereign; under Golitsyn, this became standard practice, a self-evident duty. A further step toward expanding the Chief Prosecutor’s authority was a change in the procedure for appointing members of the Holy Synod.

In the 18th century, these appointments were made for an indefinite term—that is, practically until a particular member of the Synod fell out of favor with the emperor. The sluggishness of the Holy Synod, which had annoyed Peter III and others, was nevertheless somewhat offset by the fact that cases were handled by experienced members of the Synod who were familiar with administrative procedures. Beginning on June 12, 1805, diocesan bishops began to be invited to attend the sessions of the Holy Synod—in rotation and for terms ranging from one to three years. Only three metropolitans remained permanent members of the Synod by virtue of their rank. One might assume that this reform would somewhat revitalize the stagnant atmosphere of the Synod, since the diocesan bishops were given the opportunity to report on the needs of their dioceses and to exercise their own initiative. In reality, however, reverence for state authority had become so deeply ingrained in the hierarchs over the course of the 18th century that only rarely did any of them dare to act independently without the consent of the Chief Prosecutor. Such actions, particularly common during the reign of Nicholas I, could result in premature dismissal back to the diocese. In the early years of Prince Golitsyn’s tenure, several highly educated and energetic diocesan bishops were appointed to the Synod [637] . All of Golitsyn’s efforts were focused on establishing the Commission on Theological Schools (see § 19) in close connection with the reforms of secular educational institutions. The establishment of such a commission meant a strengthening of the Ober-Procurator’s position, since it operated independently of the Holy Synod. After it was transformed from a temporary to a permanent commission, it was subordinate only to the Ober-Procurator, pushing all other branches of church administration into the background in his activities. Beginning in 1812, Golitsyn developed a penchant for mysticism, which had replaced the Age of Enlightenment and become widespread in Russia. Golitsyn was captivated by the idea of a certain universal “new Christianity” of a non-denominational nature. Using the authority of the Chief Prosecutor, he promoted the penetration of various Protestant and sectarian movements into Russian society in the name of religious tolerance. Golitsyn’s fascination with mysticism had a certain influence on Alexander I [638] . The manifesto of October 24, 1817, establishing the Ministry of Spiritual Affairs and Public Education—the so-called “Double Ministry”—was entirely in the spirit of Golitsyn and his views on public education within the framework of universal Christianity.

P. von Götze, a close associate of Golitsyn who had become a member of the Department of Foreign Religions shortly before the creation of the Dual Ministry, asserts in his memoirs that Golitsyn, despite his broad religious tolerance, remained a devoted son of his Church. At the same time, he criticized the shortcomings of the Orthodox hierarchy and, among other things, considered it wrong that the episcopate was filled exclusively by individuals of monastic rank (?!). This privilege, according to Golitsyn, must have been “introduced by some tipsy patriarch”[639] . During the establishment of the Dual Ministry, Golitsyn remained a trusted confidant of Alexander I, and upon becoming Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs, he gained unlimited opportunities to implement his policies. The Manifesto of October 24, 1817, consolidated the position of the Ober-Procurator and served as the final touch in the formation of the system of state-controlled religion, which, having emerged under Peter I, slowly but surely led to the reduction of the Holy Synod’s role to that of the Department of the Orthodox Faith. This process reached its peak under Alexander I, but its direction had already been predetermined by Catherine II, and the impetus was so strong that its momentum persisted throughout the entire synodal period, right up until 1917.

§ 9. The Holy Synod and the Government’s Church Policy (1817–1917)

a) The dual ministry, in which only one of the departments dealt with the affairs of the Orthodox Church, lasted until May 14, 1824. Throughout this period, the department’s activities were entirely shaped by Prince Golitsyn’s religious agenda, and he ensured that opposition to it was weakened as much as possible by removing Metropolitan Ambrose Podobedov from the Holy Synod [640] .

In 1818, Mikhail Desnitsky, the former Archbishop of Chernigov (1802–1818)—a man of a mystical disposition but a strict Orthodox believer—became Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and the presiding member of the Holy Synod; so conflicts with the ministry were inevitable and ultimately led to the metropolitan filing a complaint with the emperor against the all-powerful minister in March 1821. Two weeks later, on March 24, the metropolitan passed away [641] .

Golitsyn’s strong position in the struggle against growing church opposition was due to his long-standing closeness to the emperor and their shared religious views. Golitsyn shared the ideas of universal Christianity that had captivated Alexander, which, under various influences, led the emperor “into a general confusion of reason and thought”[642] . Thus, during the war with Napoleon, Alexander I, driven by a sense of his lofty destiny, conceived the idea of creating the Holy Alliance (September 14, 1815). The sovereigns—members of the Alliance—declared their unwavering determination in all matters of governance “to be guided by no other rules than the commandments of this holy faith, the commandments of love, truth, and peace”[643] . In practice, these principles led to suspicion and the suppression of freedom of thought, including religious freedom. Everywhere, the spirit of the revolution loomed, which was considered the fruit of the rebellious, anti-Christian Enlightenment [644] . Alexander saw the remedy for this in reforming state policy in a Christian sense, which was intended to prepare “the promised Kingdom of God on earth, which will be as it is in heaven, and for which the Church offers daily prayers”[645] .

The establishment of the Dual Ministry in 1817, undertaken in line with the policy of Christian universalism, was initially viewed by the clergy as a step toward greater church involvement. The young Filaret Drozdov, who became Bishop of Revel on August 15, 1817, shared this view. Shortly thereafter, he wrote to Chief Prosecutor Golitsyn: “May the Lord truly grant you to be a minister of the Spirit in the Church, a minister of light among the people. Constantine the Great called himself the ‘external bishop’ of the Church; in your present title, Your Excellency, the Church must recognize you as the locum tenens of its external bishop”[646] . Two years passed, and Golitsyn did indeed become the sovereign’s viceroy—the absolute ruler of the Dual Ministry, though not without some resistance from the opposition. But gradually, his universalist views diverged further and further from those of the emperor, who was increasingly drawn to strict Orthodoxy. While Golitsyn remained faithful to the idea of the unity of Christian peoples—the idea of a supra-confessional Kingdom of Christ on earth—the expulsion of the Jesuits from St. Petersburg in 1815 (i.e., even before the creation of the Dual Ministry) showed that confessional considerations played a significant role for the emperor. These considerations soon (after 1817) made themselves felt in the measures taken by the censorship authorities against mystical literature (1818), in the exile of Selivanov, who led the Skoptsy sect, and in the expulsion of the Jesuits—this time from Russia as a whole (1820). Within the hierarchy itself, the contradictions between the universalist position and the strictly Orthodox one became particularly evident in the matter of the Bible Society. Seraphim Glagolevsky (1757–1843), who on July 19, 1821, succeeded the late Metropolitan Michael as Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Novgorod, supported the conservative position of Metropolitan Platon Levshin, joining him in opposing the translation of the Bible into Russian [647] . The conflict between Metropolitan Seraphim and Golitsyn was evident, in particular, when the metropolitan demonstratively walked out of one of the Bible Society’s meetings. The emperor’s shadow, Arakcheyev [648] , increasingly instilled in Alexander the idea that any mystical movement was, in essence, aimed at undermining political foundations [649] . Arakcheyev used Archimandrite Yuryev of the Fotiy Spassky Monastery as an ally.

After graduating from the Novgorod Seminary in 1814, Fotiy Spassky (1792–1838) spent a year as a student at the St. Petersburg Academy, where Filaret was then rector. Without taking his final exams, he became a teacher at the theological school attached to the Alexander Nevsky Monastery. In 1817, on the advice of Filaret Drozdov, he took monastic vows and was appointed a teacher of canon law at the Cadet Corps. For his passionate sermons against Christian universalism, Golitsyn exiled Photius to the provinces to serve as abbot of a small monastery. But soon Photius was not only reinstated but also, on August 21, 1822, appointed archimandrite of the Yuryev Monastery [650] . He owed this success to the patronage of Countess A. A. Orlova-Chesmenskaya, who secured him an audience with Emperor Alexander I—a development to which, oddly enough, Golitsyn also contributed. Subsequently, the countess settled near the monastery to live under the constant guidance of her spiritual father. She donated large sums to the monastery on more than one occasion and left it a fortune worth millions. Letters from Filaret Drozdov to Count V. G. Orlov show that he approved of the relationship between Photius and the countess [651] .

N. Barsov, while generally evaluating Photius’s struggle against mysticism and sectarianism positively, wrote: “Having not received a good academic education, Photius was not a scholarly theologian”; however, “standing firmly on the ground of confessional—that is, purely Orthodox—religious doctrine, within the bounds of the Catechism and the Creeds, he was a sufficiently competent fighter against mysticism and Freemasonry”[652] . Photius’s oratorical gift was strikingly complemented by his monastic and ascetic appearance. However, the biographer notes: “His boastfulness and arrogance do not at all correspond to the level of monastic humility, and only prolonged prayers and abstinence from food constitute the distinctive features of his monastic virtues”[653] . While constantly debating with adherents of mysticism, Photius himself had a certain tendency toward exaltation [654] . Two years after his first audience with the emperor—during which the archimandrite’s ecstatic speeches made a strong impression on Alexander— Arakcheyev, who had become acquainted with Photius during the construction of military settlements and considered this acquaintance useful, secured permission for Photius to have another lengthy meeting with the emperor on April 20, 1824.[655]

On April 25 of that same year, an almost theatrical scene unfolded at Countess Orlova’s residence: Photius, dressed in full liturgical vestments, stepped out to meet Golitsyn and excommunicated him. This was followed by an equally theatrical audience between Metropolitan Seraphim and the emperor, during which the metropolitan, on his knees, implored Alexander to rid the Church of the heretical minister. The drama came to an end on May 15, 1824, with the dissolution of the Dual Ministry and Golitsyn’s resignation from his posts as minister and president of the Bible Society. He retained only the position of Minister of Posts, which he had held since 1816. Metropolitan Seraphim became president of the Bible Society, and Prince P. S. Meshchersky—the former head of the Greek-Russian Department in the Dual Ministry—became chief prosecutor of the Holy Synod. Prince Meshchersky treated the Holy Synod with great respect and allowed Metropolitan Seraphim to administer it.

At two subsequent audiences with the emperor, arranged by Arakcheyev, Photius handed Alexander I notes in which he predicted that the widespread mysticism of the time would inevitably lead to revolution [656] . From that time on, in the name of Orthodoxy—which was allegedly under threat—a period of persecution of free thought began, which did not spare theology either. Photius and Seraphim found a kindred spirit in the new Minister of Public Education, Admiral A. S. Shishkov (1753–1841). Shishkov was a staunch opponent of the Bible Society, which he succeeded in having banned under Nicholas I (April 12, 1826). He resolutely rejected the “translation” the Bible and prayers into the “common people’s dialect”—that is, into Russian—and secured a ban on Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov’s Catechism, published in 1823 with the permission of the Holy Synod, in which the Creed and prayers were printed in Russian. Filaret’s appeal to Metropolitan Seraphim protesting that the ban compromised the Holy Synod was initially unsuccessful, and it was not until the reign of Nicholas I that the Catechism reappeared, this time with quotations in Church Slavonic [657] .

Prince Golitsyn’s dismissal in no way signified the Church’s liberation from its “captivity.” The relaxation of state control under Prince Meshchersky proved to be temporary. Very soon, Metropolitan Seraphim—who remained the senior member of the Holy Synod until his death in 1843—had to endure increased state pressure under Chief Prosecutors Nechayev and Protasov.

A well-known legend, repeated many times, claims that Alexander I ended his life in Siberia as a schema-monk under the name of Fyodor Kuzmich. Historians dispute this. Grand Duke Nikolai Mikhailovich, in a special work on this subject published in 1907, also speaks out strongly against identifying Alexander with Fyodor Kuzmich [658] .

It would be a mistake to attribute the struggle of Photius, Seraphim, and Arakcheyev against Golitsyn to their fundamental rejection of the prevailing ecclesiastical system. These men’s horizons were too narrow for such a goal. Photius’s polemic with Golitsyn could hardly have prompted Emperor Alexander I to undertake a fundamental reexamination of the relationship between Church and state [659] . Considerations of this kind were voiced by a man who was not involved in partisan disputes and had no connection whatsoever with Photius. It was the renowned and highly educated historian N. M. Karamzin (1766–1826); in 1811, he submitted a memorandum to the tsar titled “On Ancient and Modern Russia,” in which the ecclesiastical and political situation of the time was presented with carefully considered objectivity: “The Russian Church has from time immemorial had a head, first in the metropolitan and finally in the patriarch. Peter declared himself the head of the Church, abolishing the patriarchate as a threat to absolute autocracy. But let us note that our clergy never opposed secular authority—neither princely nor tsarist—but served as a useful instrument in matters of state and as a conscience when the state strayed from virtue. Our primates had one right—to proclaim the truth to sovereigns, not to act or rebel—a right that was a blessing not only for the people but also for the monarch, whose happiness lies in justice. Since the time of Peter, the clergy in Russia has fallen into decline. Our primates had become nothing more than flatterers of the tsars, and from the pulpit they spoke words of praise to them in biblical language. We have poets and courtiers for praise; the primary duty of the clergy is to teach the people virtue, and for these teachings to be truly effective, the clergy must be respected. If the sovereign presides over the meetings of the Church’s highest dignitaries, if he judges them and bestows upon them worldly honors and benefits, then the Church becomes subordinate to secular authority and loses its sacred character; devotion to it wanes, and with it, faith; and with the weakening of faith, the sovereign loses the means to command the hearts of the people in times of emergency, when it is necessary to forget everything, to leave everything for the fatherland, and the shepherd of souls can promise only the martyr’s crown as a reward. Spiritual authority must have a distinct sphere of action separate from civil authority, yet act in close alliance with it. I am speaking of law and justice. A wise monarch, in matters of state interest, will always find a way to reconcile the will of the metropolitan or patriarch with the sovereign’s will, but it is better if this agreement takes the form of freedom and inner conviction rather than subservient obedience. The overt, complete dependence of ecclesiastical authority on civil authority implies the view that the former is useless or, at the very least, unnecessary for the stability of the state… “I do not propose restoring the patriarchate, but I wish for the Synod to have greater significance in its composition and in its actions”[660] . Karamzin’s memorandum had no practical consequences: at that time, Alexander I was more receptive to Photius’s religious fervor than to the historian’s sober reflections.

b) In 1850, Countess A. D. Bludova (1812–1891), a well-known representative of the Slavophile movement, wrote on the occasion of the 25th anniversary of Nicholas I’s reign: “Nicholas Pavlovich is the most Orthodox sovereign to have reigned over us since the time of Fyodor Alekseevich. He may even be the most Russian of all”[661] . This was the period before the Crimean War, when it was believed in some circles that the state stood firm and on a sound foundation. According to Count S. S. Uvarov (1786–1855), Minister of Public Education, this foundation consisted of autocracy, Orthodoxy, and national identity. In the aforementioned note by Karamzin, well known to Nicholas I, we read: “The nobility and the clergy, the Senate and the Synod, as the guardians of the laws, and above them all—the sovereign, the sole legislator, the sole source of authority—this is the foundation of the Russian monarchy, which can be strengthened or weakened by the actions of those who reign”[662] . The second part of Karamzin’s formula was, undoubtedly, the guiding principle of Nicholas I’s policy, but the humiliation of the Holy Synod and the clergy hardly corresponded to the normal relations between an Orthodox sovereign and the Orthodox Church, as implied in the first part. When Archimandrite Photius Spassky, in a letter to Bishop Innocent Borisov dated 1838, enthusiastically exclaims, “ ” that in Russia everything is imbued with the fragrance of Orthodoxy [663] , these words can only elicit a skeptical smile from an unbiased reader.

Emperor Nicholas I (July 15, 1796 – February 19, 1855) was the third son of Paul I. He ascended the throne because his older brother, Constantine, had refused to reign. Little attention was paid to Nicholas’s upbringing and education; in accordance with his own inclinations, it was primarily military in nature. His religious upbringing was also superficial. Toward the end of his life, Nicholas I admitted: “As far as religion is concerned, my children were better off than we were (i.e., Nicholas and his brother Michael. – I. S.), who were taught only to cross themselves at certain times during the Mass and to recite various prayers by heart, without concern for what was going on in our souls”[664] . Nicholas was a believer, but in a completely different way than his brother Alexander: he knew no religious quest, doubt, or ecstasy. His straightforward nature was devoid of the mood swings and vacillations so characteristic of his father and brother. Nikolai’s faith was simple and unpretentious. Like the Moscow tsars, he was convinced that his autocratic power was sanctified from above. He fully shared the view of Filaret Drozdov: “God, in the image of His heavenly Sovereignty, established a tsar on earth; in the image of His Omnipotence—an autocratic tsar; and in the image of His eternal Kingdom, enduring from age to age—a hereditary tsar”[665] . Although the views of Nicholas I and Filaret coincided in their theoretical foundations, they differed in the realm of church policy. For decades, they regarded one another with respect, yet at the same time with distrust and a critical eye; only to a superficial observer—be it a contemporary or a later historian—could these men have appeared to be like-minded. This, of course, did not disturb the emperor’s peace of mind, but for the metropolitan, his rejection of the tsar’s church policy was a tragedy that he carefully concealed from those around him. The period of Nicholas I’s reign is referred to as the “Nicholaev era” in Russian history; a church historian, for his part, is justified in calling the same period—including the subsequent years up to Metropolitan Filaret’s death in 1867—the “Filaret era.” Filaret Drozdov stood at the center of ecclesiastical and political events. Speaking on behalf of the Church about issues concerning the Church and the state, he, as far as circumstances permitted, articulated his position and proposed solutions. In the eyes of a historian, these proposals were by no means infallible in many respects, but they were always so well-founded that it was simply impossible to ignore the authoritative opinion of this powerful figure in church politics [666] .

Vasily Drozdov, known as Filaret in monastic life, was born in 1782 into the family of a parish priest in Kolomna. He studied at the Kolomna Seminary and later at the Trinity Seminary, where he caught the attention of Metropolitan Platon of Moscow. The latter particularly appreciated his sermons, which, in both form and content, revealed a balance and maturity of thought, as well as sound judgment in spiritual matters. On September 16, 1808, the 26-year-old monk began his teaching career, and the very next year he was summoned to St. Petersburg, where on March 28, 1809, he was ordained a priest and appointed inspector and professor of philosophy at the St. Petersburg Theological Seminary. He then became rector of the Alexander Nevsky Seminary. Soon, both Metropolitan Ambrose Podobedov and Prince Golitsyn recognized and appreciated Filaret, and they began to promote him in every way possible. In 1810, Filaret—by then a professor of theology, church history, and archaeology—was elevated to the rank of archimandrite in 1811. The following year, he became a professor of theology and rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. In 1813, the emperor awarded him the Order of St. Vladimir. A year later, the Commission on Theological Schools conferred upon him the title of Doctor of Theology, and for his work *An Outline of Biblical Church History*, the emperor bestowed upon him the panagia. His work as rector and professor strengthened his authority as a theologian. In 1817, Filaret, as Bishop of Revel, became vicar of the Diocese of St. Petersburg; in 1819, he became Archbishop of Tver. That same year, he was transferred to the See of Yaroslavl and appointed a member of the Holy Synod; by June 8, 1821, he was Archbishop of Moscow, and on August 26, 1826—the day of Nicholas I’s coronation—he was elevated to the rank of Metropolitan of Moscow. Filaret devoted himself entirely to the affairs of the Moscow Diocese, but this lasted only three years, until the fall of 1826, when he was summoned back to St. Petersburg and appointed a member of the Holy Synod, a position he held until 1842.[667] But even after being relieved of his duties as a member of the Synod, he effectively continued to perform them, as his opinion was habitually sought on all important matters. After the metropolitan’s death in 1867, the Chief Prosecutor noted in his annual report to the emperor that for more than half a century there had been no church affairs in which this renowned Moscow hierarch had not participated with all his energy [668] .

In the 1880s and 1890s, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov’s *Collection of Opinions and Reviews* was published. It includes essays on Christian marriage, schism, church chant, the translation of the Bible into Russian, foreign confessions, and the Orthodox Churches of the East (to name just a few examples), written by an author who was equally a church historian of law and a theologian, demonstrating the full breadth of Filaret’s personality. Of course, in some cases he had assistants, such as the well-known ecclesiastical scholar A. V. Gorsky [669] , but the final editing was always the work of the metropolitan himself: precision of expression, accuracy of phrasing, and the ability to avoid overly categorical statements—all these were undeniable merits of his creative style. His innate sense of proportion was complemented by a cautious restraint in his assessments of people and events, which was absolutely essential during the Nikolay era. Apparently, only two people from Filaret’s inner circle were granted candid conversations with him—these were the abbot of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, Archimandrite Anthony Medvedev, and Filaret’s vicar, Archbishop Leonid Krasnopevkov [670] . P. S. Kazansky, a professor at the Moscow Theological Academy, wrote to his brother after Metropolitan Filaret’s death: “There was a certain magnetic force in the late metropolitan that drew everyone who approached him, yet did not allow anyone to come too close. As if with a magic wand, he drew a line that no one dared to cross, no matter how much their heart yearned to step over that line in order to draw closer to him. Such are the feelings and impressions of all those close to him. He kept the inner sanctuary of his heart and soul closed to everyone; outsiders saw only glimpses of his feelings and thoughts. All who loved him loved him with a sense of awe, and even those who were certain he loved them did not consider themselves close to him. Perhaps the saint sensed that, once he allowed someone to come fully close to him, he would lose his authority over that person”[671] . Archbishop Theodotus Ozerov of Simbirsk († 1858) recounts: “I served in St. Petersburg, visited nobles, and saw tsars: everything was fine, but when I entered the Trinity Compound (the residence of Metropolitan Filaret. — I. S.), where did that timidity come from?”[672] How must a rural priest have felt when he had to appear before the Moscow saint? And here are the words of A. N. Muravyov, spoken in 1867 after Filaret’s death: “We have lost a great beacon and champion of Orthodoxy, who, though not a patriarch by rank, was to us like a true patriarch, for he resolved all difficult ecclesiastical issues through the wisdom granted to him from above, and the Russian Church will long hold this view.”[673] . Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov, an ideological disciple and admirer of Filaret and his ecclesiastical policies—who devoted two decades to publishing Metropolitan Filaret’s legacy—wrote that, while reading the saint’s works, he could not help but marvel at the grandeur, depth, and breadth of the unforgettable hierarch’s all-encompassing mind. These documents seem to resolve various issues—ecclesiastical-legal, political, social, and of other kinds—for centuries to come [674] . Like Savva Tikhomirov, all subsequent generations of bishops revered Filaret Drozdov, whose authority remained unshaken. However, his characteristic “moderation of judgment” turned into slavish passivity in the face of secular authority among his less gifted followers.

During his lifetime, Metropolitan Filaret, by virtue of his authority, occupied a wholly unique position within the church hierarchy. For the clergy and, indeed, for the faithful in general, he was not so much a kind as a wise shepherd, whom they feared despite their respect for him; therefore, he could not become the focal point of a unifying movement nor could he rely on the clergy. He was aware that the role assigned to him in the history of the Russian Church was a tragic one. He clearly saw how entrenched the relationship between the state and the Church had become, a relationship in which the latter had become merely a department of the Greek-Russian faith. Only a more powerful force arising from within the Church itself could change such a deeply entrenched tradition, but he did not believe that his contemporaries were capable of demonstrating such strength. Moreover, he was a proponent of conservative church policy. For a long time, there had been an almost pathological fear of innovation and reform within the hierarchy: like Platon Levshin, Amvrosy Podobedov, or Filaret Amfiteatrov, Filaret Drozdov feared even minor adjustments to church life. When reformist tendencies intensified among the clergy in the 1960s, Filaret opposed any measures that went beyond minor changes in the methods of church administration. In essence, he held the state in extremely high regard as a repressive and conservative force that restrained the anarchic, carnal, and spontaneous impulses of human nature. For this reason, he did not oppose the Church’s subordinate position within the state as a whole. What he desired for the Church was a greater degree of self-governance. He found the institution of the Holy Synod entirely suitable for this purpose, once describing it as “a spiritual college that Peter adopted from the Protestants, but which Divine Providence and the spirit of the Church transformed into the Holy Synod”[675] . A personal resolution by Nicholas I on one of the Holy Synod’s reports prompted the following statement by Metropolitan Filaret regarding the relationship between the state and the Church: “The Holy Synod cannot say a word against this decision, because, being unable to resolve its own matter, it itself prompted His Majesty to make this decision, and therefore must accept it as God’s decision”[676] . Filaret’s ecclesiastical-political position was determined not least by his conception of the divine nature of imperial power: “Russia is the only state in Europe in which both the government and the people fully acknowledge that ‘there is no authority except from God.’ The sovereign derives all his legitimacy from ecclesiastical anointing, from which it follows that the position of the Church (in Russia. — I. S.) and its relationship to autocratic power are not comparable to the position of the Churches in Catholic and Protestant states… In our fatherland… the most pious tsars are the supreme defenders and guardians of orthodoxy and all the holy order of the Church,” says Filaret, quoting verbatim from the 1832 Code of Laws, and then formulates the relationship between the state and the Church as follows: between Christ and His servant, the Orthodox sovereign, as well as between the Church and the state, there is something in common, namely, faith, piety, and the affirmation and preservation of the welfare of Christians. The Church preaches the fear of God, and a God-fearing sovereign preserves this fear of God and the peace of the Church through his wise and beneficial rule. That is precisely why we should pray for the tsar, so that we may lead a peaceful, quiet life in every kind of piety and purity [677][678]^.

Emperor Nicholas I was, of course, well acquainted with Filaret’s ideas. It was no coincidence that he called the famous Moscow saint “wise” and felt that, on the essentials, they were in agreement—and this seemed to him more important than their differences on specific issues. They were also close in their views on reforms. Theoretically, Nicholas I was by no means, as it sometimes seemed, opposed to improvements in the field of public administration. “During his reign,” writes one researcher of Nicholas’s domestic policy, “reforms were conceived that were intended to shake the very foundations of people’s lives, and it was said that the transformation was to be carried out through measures that would in no way appear to be any kind of change.” In reality, however, “pens merely scratched away, mountains of paper were filled, and commissions and committees succeeded one another incessantly… But this paperwork had no real impact on everyday life”[679] .

In the administration of the Church under Nicholas I, Chief Prosecutor Count N. A. Protasov introduced many useful improvements that could already be considered reforms. First and foremost, he turned his attention to diocesan administration, where, just as in the 18th century, arbitrariness and lawlessness had prevailed, and the lower clergy suffered under the despotism of the bishops. The Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1841), introduced by Protasov, brought about significant improvements in this regard. “Protasov,” writes the historian, “being a despot himself, crushed all autocratic power on the part of the diocesan bishops, who governed arbitrarily and tolerated no protests against themselves. In his court, a sexton and a bishop were equal. It was during his era that people came to realize that even bishops could be tried, that the law applied to them as well, and that complaints against them could be lodged with the Synod”[680] .

Protasov’s methods, which had been taking shape even before Protasov himself appeared on the scene, were one of the main reasons for the isolation in which Metropolitan Filaret soon found himself within the Holy Synod. “I am a stranger here,” he wrote to his mother in 1827, “and I wish to remain so; therefore, I avoid socializing except when necessary”[681] . Perhaps this was a mistake. At that time, the metropolitan still possessed the psychological flexibility characteristic of any young person, and if he had wished, he could have found common ground with the other hierarchs. Filaret, however, was by nature inclined toward seclusion, which led him in the last two decades of his life to “agréable solitude” [pleasant solitude (French)]: he towered above everyone as an indisputable authority revered by all. Metropolitan Seraphim, who enjoyed the emperor’s favor, held sway in the Holy Synod. Seraphim did not like his Moscow counterpart. There were fundamental differences between them not only regarding the Bible Society and the translation of the Bible into Russian, but also on matters of a personal nature. Seraphim could not forgive Filaret for his goodwill toward Prince Golitsyn, and he even suspected Filaret himself of a penchant for mysticism, heeding the whisperings of Archimandrite Photius, who called Filaret a Freemason. In Seraphim’s eyes, Filaret could not be entirely orthodox, for he was reputed to be a “liberal.” Seraphim also remembered the young Filaret’s past interest in mystical literature when he was rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. This explains Seraphim’s ambivalent position in 1827 regarding the issue of Filaret’s Catechism. At that time, Metropolitan Eugene Bolkhovitinov of Kyiv supported his colleague in St. Petersburg. A rescript from Nicholas I to Seraphim dated April 12, 1826, shows that both metropolitans had appealed to the emperor regarding the Bible Society and the harm that, in their opinion, it was causing [682] . Despite these disagreements, Filaret carried such weight in the Holy Synod that his opinion could not be disregarded. Chief Prosecutor Prince Meshchersky reported to the emperor that Filaret’s participation in the discussion of various issues of church administration was of great importance. His intellect, common sense, and ability to quickly grasp the essence of a matter were no less impressive than his profound knowledge of canon law and his skill in interpreting it. If Filaret occasionally left the northern capital to carry out his official duties in Moscow, and an important matter arose in the Synod, it was necessary either to recall the Metropolitan of Moscow to St. Petersburg by imperial decree or to send documents to Moscow to obtain his opinion. Even under Chief Prosecutor S. D. Nechayev, Filaret was constantly consulted, as evidenced by the metropolitan’s numerous letters to the chief prosecutor. At the same time, the chief prosecutor managed to plot against the metropolitan, seeking to isolate him within the Synod. Of particular importance to Nechaev was the discord between Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov of Moscow and Metropolitan Filaret Amfiteatrov of Kiev, a member of the Holy Synod since 1836. Both unanimously condemned the despotism of the chief prosecutors, but the Metropolitan of Kyiv considered the translation of the Bible into Russian—recommended by Filaret Drozdov—to be a harmful undertaking and did everything in his power to prevent its publication. Nechayev also sought to sour Filaret Drozdov’s relationship with the emperor.

As early as 1829, Metropolitan Filaret incurred the emperor’s displeasure by refusing to consecrate the Triumphal Arch erected in Moscow, which featured figures of pagan gods; as a result, Nicholas I left Moscow in anger on the eve of his scheduled visit. One of Filaret’s sermons during the cholera epidemic of 1831 struck the emperor as too critical of the government’s measures; for another, the metropolitan even received a severe reprimand from the emperor. In 1826, Nicholas I established the Gendarmerie Corps and the all-powerful Third Section of His Imperial Majesty’s own Chancellery. Gendarmerie officers, mostly acting on secret requests from the Chief Prosecutor, delivered reports from the provinces concerning diocesan bishops, based primarily on denunciations. Nechaev feigned outrage and persuaded the cautious Filaret to write a memorandum, which he, with cunning calculation, presented to the emperor at the opportune moment [683] . The result, as expected, was a significant cooling of relations between Nicholas—who would not tolerate any criticism of his beloved brainchild, the Gendarmerie Corps—and the metropolitan. Filaret’s correspondence with the abbot of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra reveals just how dissatisfied the metropolitan was with the conduct of affairs within the Holy Synod. He was displeased by the lack of unanimity, external influences, and the government’s disregard. He complained to A. V. Gorsky that the Code of Laws had been published without the involvement of the Holy Synod, which had not been allowed to express its opinion on the provisions concerning the clergy [684] . The elderly Metropolitan Seraphim signed everything that came to his desk from Nechayev without even looking at it. The other members of the Holy Synod had been replaced too frequently since 1836. The longest-serving member was V. N. Kutnevich, the Chief Chaplain of the Army and Navy, who enjoyed the emperor’s special favor and remained beyond Protasov’s reach. Kutnevich was the foremost expert on synodal affairs and was well-versed in laws and canon law. He occupied a completely independent position within the Synod and often supported the views of the Metropolitan of Moscow. Another long-standing member of the Holy Synod was Ion Vasilevsky, Exarch of Georgia, who was appointed to the Synod as early as 1821 but did not actually become a member until 1832, remaining so until 1849—the year of his death. This excellent administrator, who had proven himself an exemplary church organizer in his Caucasian diocese, was not very active in the Synod. Grigory Postnikov was also a member of the Holy Synod for many years, first as Bishop of Kaluga (1827), then as Archbishop of Tver (1831–1848), and finally as Archbishop of Kazan (1848–1850). He advocated for strict observance of church rules and laws and often supported Metropolitan Filaret against Protasov. He was removed from the Synod “due to his eye disease.” The same fate befell Archbishop Gabriel Gorodkov of Ryazan, who “even dared at times to express dissatisfaction and disagreement with certain orders and actions” of Protasov. Gabriel managed to remain in the Synod for only two years (1841–1843). Metropolitan Filaret Amfiteatrov of Kyiv was also unable to endure Protasov’s despotism for long and, on March 25, 1842, requested permission to return to his diocese; this request was granted by Protasov without authorization and without the emperor’s knowledge. Such dismissals due to disagreements with the Chief Prosecutor occurred more than once thereafter. Ultimately, this also happened to Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov [685] .

In 1841, the Holy Synod considered Pavsky’s case regarding the lithographic reproduction of translations of certain books of the Old Testament [686] . In this connection, Filaret remarked: “We must ensure the provision of a correct and accessible aid to the understanding of Holy Scripture.” Both Metropolitan Seraphim of St. Petersburg and Protasov saw this as a call to publish a Russian translation of the Bible and became agitated. During one of his reports to Nicholas I, Protasov mentioned, among other things, that in the theological academies “Lutheran principles were creeping into the study of Holy Scripture.” The emperor’s resolution, in which he expressed his dismay at “the admission of such a pernicious trend,” was clearly directed against Filaret, who, feeling offended, requested to be transferred to his own diocese. Protasov reported to the emperor that, as chief prosecutor, he had no objections, and Nicholas’s verdict was brief: “He may go.” On May 8, 1842, Filaret left the Holy Synod, never to return there again. Upon his arrival in Moscow, it was initially even expected that the metropolitan would soon be granted retirement [687] .

Seraphim’s († 1843) successors to the See of St. Petersburg—Metropolitans Anthony Rafalsky (1843–1848) and Nicanor Klementyevsky (1848–1856)—while presiding over the Holy Synod, showed no interest in the question of its independence [688] . Protasov’s despotism met with almost no resistance: the hierarchs dismissed from the Holy Synod were merely exceptions. The overwhelming majority of its members sought to adapt to the system that prevailed throughout the state apparatus, standardizing synodal administration accordingly. When a historian unreservedly condemns the members of the Synod during the reign of Nicholas I as children of their time and their particular milieu [689] , he is likely referring first and foremost to their weakness and lack of character in the face of the policies of the chief prosecutors. One should not, however, forget that a lack of character was a more widespread vice in the second half of the nineteenth century than in the first.

A letter from 1844 by Vicar Bishop Anatoly Martynovsky—an intelligent man and exemplary bishop who had risen from the ranks of the white clergy—to Archbishop Smaragd Kryzhanovsky of Orel attests to how the Protasov system affected the dioceses: “Is there any Church—or at lea —any religious community more unfortunate in these matters (i.e., regarding subordination to the state. — I. S.) than our poor Church? No, a hundred times no!… In every state, the various social classes concern themselves with matters that pertain solely to them, without monitoring others or interfering in their affairs. Even in Russia, the pastors of all denominations write for their flocks and preach whatever they please, publish whatever books they wish, and charge their flocks as much as they want. But our Church is so wretched that we are judged and governed by anyone and everyone: Lutherans, Calvinists, atheists, and liberals.” Twenty years later, the same bishop, now retired, wrote to an unknown colleague: “There is hardly a Church more wretched than our Russian Church. I assert this because I am 70 years old and, since 1812, I have served in the ecclesiastical hierarchy and have witnessed many events in our Church… And if we were to compare it—with Volume 11 of the 1857 edition of the Code of Laws in hand—to other religious denominations present in Russia, it is hard to imagine that our Church is not more restricted, constrained, and humiliated than any community of other faiths”[690] . According to the testimony of Filaret Drozdov already cited, laws concerning the clergy were drafted without the participation of the Holy Synod. The dominant Church had definitively become a Church under the tutelage of the state. The government considered itself entitled to grant the Church freedom of action only to the extent that it seemed expedient within the framework of general domestic policy. In accordance with the law of inertia, church policy in the second half of the 19th century continued to follow the same course that had been laid out from the time of Catherine II through Nicholas I.

c) The beginning of Alexander II’s reign (February 19, 1855 – March 1, 1881) ushered in a period of extraordinary revitalization of public life [691] . The unsuccessful outcome of the Crimean War finally forced the government to pay attention to the shortcomings of the state apparatus of the Nicholas era—shortcomings that had long been evident to many in Russian society—and to recognize the need for reforms, which were indeed carried out, though far from to the extent required. Nevertheless, the ice had been broken. Journalism, which flourished as a result of the relaxation of censorship, became an influential factor in public opinion for a long time. Issues related to the reforms were lively discussed in the pages of magazines. Religious journals, especially from the early 1850s through the 1860s, also devoted considerable space to the problems of society as a whole. Here, the sense of unity between the Church, society, and the people—which had formed earlier but could not find expression under the pressure of Nicholas’s state apparatus—made itself felt. Alongside general discussions, the church press also put forward many useful practical proposals. Of course, issues concerning the clergy’s situation were at the forefront, but they were always considered in connection with the broader social situation. For the first time in the history of Russian journalism, issues concerning the connection between Christianity, the Church, and the clergy with the national, social, and cultural development of the Russian people were widely discussed, and attention was drawn to the resulting obligations of the Church and its clergy [692] . The state of transportation infrastructure prevented magazines from reaching remote corners of the vast empire in sufficient numbers. This shortcoming was offset by the clergy, who, fully aware of their responsibility toward their flock, addressed these topics in their sermons. “The hour has come!” said Archimandrite Ioann Sokolov, then rector of the Kazan Theological Academy, in his New Year’s sermon of 1859. “How can the Church fail to sympathize with the times we live in? Oh! The Church must and is ready to ring out the toll of this hour a thousand times through all its bells, to resound throughout every corner of Russia, to awaken all the feelings of the Russian soul, and, in the name of Christian truth and love, to call upon all the sons of the fatherland to participate in and contribute to the common, great cause of revival. And the Church has its own motivations. “For a long, long time, the Church herself, in her very depths, has been suffering the pangs of childbirth, feeling all too keenly the need to give new life to her spiritual children”[693] . The same preacher, now as Bishop of Smolensk, called on people a few years later not to believe those who assert that the goal of the Christian faith is solely the salvation of the soul for the afterlife, or that a Christian’s religious duty has no connection whatsoever with the present day. Not at all: “We (i.e., the pastors. — I. S.) appeal to the public consciousness, to the people’s conscience… we will merely accompany them with the light of Christian truth, stimulate them with questions pertaining to various aspects of this life, and, in the name of the highest Christian truth, call for a discussion of the moral needs of the people. This is how it happens in private confession; so let it be in the public sphere as well”[694] . These appeals by Ioann Sokolov were not exceptional. In periodicals, we find numerous sermons on the topic of “Christianity and public life.” Particular attention is given to this topic in the works of Archimandrite Feodor Bukharev [695] .

Bishop Ioann Sokolov referred to these years as “the dawn of Russia,” which signified not only the onset of an “era of social revival” but also the passing of the “old” and the “birth of a new man.” High-ranking officials were also aware that many aspects of church life required improvement, even if radical reforms were unfeasible. A certain sense of hopelessness permeates the words of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov: “The misfortune of our time is that the number of errors and oversights, accumulated over more than one century, almost exceeds the strength and means available to correct them”[696] . Nevertheless, he took advantage of the presence of four metropolitans, four archbishops, and two protopresbyters at the coronation of Alexander II in August 1856 to bring before this unique Council for discussion issues that, strictly speaking, should have been resolved by the Holy Synod long ago. The following points were discussed: 1) preserving dignity and reverence in the celebration of the holy sacraments; 2) adding more beauty and splendor to divine services; 3) increasing the number of dioceses and vicariates; 4) intensifying the struggle against the Old Believers. In addition, the metropolitan once again raised the long-standing issue of lifting the ban on translating the Bible into Russian. In principle, the assembly approved the proposed measures [697] .

Metropolitan Grigory Postnikov of Kazan, who had been elevated to the rank of metropolitan during the coronation of Alexander II, succeeded Metropolitan Nikanor Klementyevsky, who had passed away on September 17, 1856. He now headed the Dioceses of St. Petersburg and Novgorod and became the first hierarch in the Holy Synod. On October 1, 1856, Lieutenant General Count A. P. Tolstoy was appointed Chief Prosecutor. A. N. Muravyov submitted to him a memorandum titled “On the State of the Orthodox Church in Russia,” which addressed the “difficult situation of the Church,” the restoration of the patriarchate, and the limitation of the Ober-Procurators’ authority [698] . Protopresbyter V. B. Bazhanov, chief chaplain of the Guard and Grenadiers, the tsar’s confessor, and tutor to the tsar’s children—who had managed to maintain a fairly independent position even under Protasov—ensured that the memorandum was submitted to Metropolitan Filaret for his opinion before it was discussed by the Synod. “It would be good,” wrote the elderly metropolitan on this matter, “not to abolish the patriarchate or thereby destabilize the hierarchy, but restoring the patriarchate would not be very convenient: he would hardly be more useful than the Synod. If secular authority has begun to weigh down upon ecclesiastical authority, why would a single patriarch bear this burden more steadfastly than the Synod? Even under the Ecumenical Patriarch, the Synod proved necessary, and in Russia there is a Synod. Is the fact that in Russia the presiding member of the Holy Synod is not called a patriarch such a great difference? This, at the very least, requires investigation, rather than leading to a categorical condemnation of the Synod’s continued existence. There was a time when Russia had neither a patriarch nor a Synod, but only a metropolitan. Yet secular authority sincerely respected spiritual authority and its rules, and the latter had greater freedom to act with zeal and enthusiasm. “That is the crux of the matter!” Filaret considered the convening of a Local Council to be beneficial, provided that the Council were conducted skillfully and faithfully [699] . It is unclear whether Filaret’s restrained criticism or his own considerations prompted the Chief Prosecutor to bury Muravyov’s note in his archives, without ever taking any steps to remedy the “difficult situation” of the Synod’s administration.

The church hierarchy did not express any reformist aspirations that might have put pressure on the Chief Prosecutor. The “precarious situation” of the Holy Synod was viewed as an incurable disease, and a cure was expected only from the state authorities, not from the Church’s own initiative [700] . Entire generations of bishops had grown up under the authority of Filaret, who had urged them to exercise caution and respect state authority. Now these bishops preferred to bow their heads, submitting to the wishes of the chief prosecutors and sighing as they accepted their instructions “for information and compliance.” This state of affairs was rooted in an exaggerated conservatism that viewed any attempt to reform the prevailing system as a symptom of liberalism and a departure from Orthodox tradition. These sentiments were particularly evident in 1870–1872, when Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy intended to carry out a reform of the ecclesiastical court (see § 6). The hierarchy behaved similarly with regard to the reform of ecclesiastical schools in the 1860s, which limited the influence of the bishops. Chief Prosecutor Count Tolstoy, just like Prince Golitsyn during the reign of Alexander I, also served as Minister of Education. He was by no means a liberal, but simple common sense told him that reforming the theological schools was necessary, especially following the reform of secular educational institutions that had already been carried out in the 1860s. Tolstoy had little regard for the bishops. Perhaps this was a consequence of his study of the history of Catholicism, which clearly illustrated all the dangers of clericalism. In any case, he was not free from prejudice against the bishops when he undertook measures to reform the completely outdated diocesan administration and attempted to free the lower clergy from the despotic arbitrariness of the bishops—without, however, in any way challenging the latter’s authority. Tolstoy did much for the parish clergy, both in legal and material terms, and it must be acknowledged that these reforms are not the achievement of the church leadership, but entirely and wholly that of the state authorities [701] .

After the death of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov on November 19, 1867, Innokenty Veniaminov (1867–1879), who had become famous for his missionary work, was appointed Metropolitan of Moscow. According to some sources, he personally recommended to Emperor Alexander II that a Local Council of Russian bishops be convened. A. V. Gorsky wrote in his diary on September 23, 1869: “His Eminence (i.e., Metropolitan Innokenty. – I. S.) said that this past summer in Moscow, the Chief Prosecutor once again expressed his consent to the establishment of a Council—not an Ecumenical one, mind you, but a Russian one, consisting solely of Russian bishops—but he absolutely refuses to agree to the division of the Russian ecclesiastical province into (metropolitan—I. S.) districts and the establishment of local Councils. This division, in his opinion, could lead to a breakup with the secession, for example, of the Vilna, Little Russian, or Georgian districts. The Chief Prosecutor added that the sovereign had told him, “Do not rush this matter,” and I replied that neither I nor the metropolitan were demanding it be done quickly. Then, in response to these last words, His Eminence said that the Chief Prosecutor had only him in mind among those desiring a Council. “For the Council to be established, it is first necessary for the Synod to draft questions and present them to the bishops for discussion, and for these questions to be the subject of free debate in ecclesiastical literature, so that all academies—and even secular literature—may address them from both sides”[702] . This conversation between the metropolitan and the Chief Prosecutor had no practical consequences. All plans for fundamental church reform were postponed for nearly half a century.

But criticism of the synodal system did not cease. Among its opponents was, for example, Metropolitan Arseny Moskvin of Kyiv (1860–1870)[703] , who did much for parish schools in the 1860s and, in 1866, served as chairman of the Commission on the Reform of Theological Schools. A man of a completely different spiritual disposition also took a critical view of the Synodal system—Archbishop (Volynsky—Ed.) Agathangel Solovyov. He was the author of the memorandum “The Captivity of the Russian Church,” which he attempted to deliver personally to the emperor in 1876. Agathangel took a strongly negative stance toward the reform of the ecclesiastical court [704] .

Alongside these hierarchs of the older generation, representatives of a younger generation of scholarly monastics—who had already experienced firsthand the pressure of the Protasov school system—made their presence felt in the vibrant atmosphere of the 1860s. Their views were aligned with those of their lay peers, who went down in Russian history as the “Sixties.” Closest to them were the aforementioned Bishop John Sokolov of Smolensk and Archimandrite Theodore Bukharev—two completely different personalities who, however, both advocated for a closer connection between the Church and everyday life. The young Archimandrite Porphyry Uspensky preached entirely different ideas in the 1850s. He seriously studied the Orthodox East and condemned Russian arrogance toward the ancient Eastern Churches, which, during the reign of Nicholas I, was evident even in Metropolitan Filaret. Porphyry’s diary, *The Book of My Life*, is a candid and passionate confession. For all its subjectivity, this book is valuable as a rare document of protest against the national Orthodoxy of that time. As a result of his deep familiarity with the Orthodox East, Porphyry keenly sensed the Russian Church’s departure from the early Christian canons and the loss of conciliarity [705] . Likewise, the correspondence from the 1960s between Bishops Kirill Naumov and Makarii Bulgakov reveals Kirill’s highly critical attitude toward the existing church system, a view apparently shared by his correspondent [706] .

d) Church policy oriented toward the state essentially had no supporters—neither within the hierarchy, nor among the parish clergy, nor among the laity. But the division into these groups prevented a unified church position from taking shape. This became particularly evident during the tenure of Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev (1880–1905), who, although well aware of the opposition sentiments within the Church, paid them no attention whatsoever.

Pobedonostsev’s predecessor as Minister of Public Education had been a member of the Cabinet of Ministers. Pobedonostsev was included in the Cabinet as Chief Prosecutor, which gave him additional clout and strengthened his authority—which was already exceptionally solid thanks to Alexander III’s trust and favor. Already under Alexander II, another branch of government had begun to influence church legislation, namely the State Council, which later, under Nicholas II, following the opening of the State Duma, came to play the role of the upper house of the Russian parliament. Many issues that Nicholas I had previously decided on his own were now submitted to the State Council for discussion. The dependence of church policy on the will of the emperor and his representative—the Chief Prosecutor—was now compounded by a direct dependence on one of the state institutions [707] . The state’s domestic policy was increasingly shaped by anti-reformist tendencies and a desire to curtail reforms that had already been implemented. The principle of autocracy was guarded with particular zeal. This course of action was a consequence not only of Alexander III’s conservatism but also of Pobedonostsev’s ability to defend his convictions both before the emperor and within the Cabinet of Ministers. The era of Alexander III, as defined by one historian, signified a return to strict domination, to government guardianship and oversight; the subordination of local autonomous judicial and administrative bodies to the government; and severe restrictions on freedom of expression for independent public thought [708] . It was precisely these principles that guided the Chief Prosecutor in his policies regarding synodal and diocesan administration, as well as in the spheres of education and culture, including theology. In a certain sense, this unambiguous government course eased the situation for the church hierarchy. During the era of Alexander II—a time of conflict between progressive and conservative tendencies—Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky of Chernihiv complained: “These days, you don’t know which way to turn”[709] . Now the situation had become clear. Nationalism and conservatism were the government’s watchwords, and most of the episcopate—if not all of it—obediently followed suit. In 1888, Bishop Vladimir Petrov of Stavropol wrote to his friend, Archbishop Veniamin Blagonravov of Irkutsk: “The more time passes and events unfold, the clearer matters and the people involved become, the more strongly one feels the need to implore the Almighty with the most fervent prayer: may the Lord strengthen Konstantin Petrovich’s (Pobedonostsev. – I. S.). Truly, he deserves not only the deepest respect and gratitude, but also ardent love”[710] . An even more interesting characterization of Pobedonostsev is provided by Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky of Volhynia, one of the most significant church politicians among the hierarchs of the last 25 years of the synodal period. After Pobedonostsev was dismissed in 1905, Archbishop Anthony wrote to him: “It was God’s providence that placed me in such a position with regard to people who enjoyed your trust that I often incurred your displeasure; furthermore, my views on the Church, monasticism, church schools, and the patriarchate could not find sympathy or approval in you; yet, despite all this, I could never bring myself to utter words of reproach or hostility toward you personally—so unshakable was my respect for you. I honored you as a Christian, as a patriot, as a scholar, and as a hard worker. I was always aware that the enlightenment of the people in unity with the Church—which began in 1884 solely thanks to you and which you vigorously supported until the very last day of your service— is a great, holy, and eternal undertaking—one that all the more elevates your merit before the Church, the See, and the Fatherland, since in this endeavor you stood almost alone morally. You were not a mere continuator of administrative routine, as your pitiful, talentless critics would have us believe. On the contrary, you broke new ground in life and daily existence, undertaking tasks necessary for Russia but previously unknown to the administration… You did not merely serve; you performed a noble deed. You were not, however, a dry fanatic of state or church ideology: you were a man of good and forgiving heart.”[711] .

The authors of these statements were very different from one another, both in character and in the nature of their activities within the Church. These statements are separated by a 20-year span, which is also quite significant. Archbishop Vladimir Petrov was a well-known missionary and always kept his distance from major church politics. He spent his life in the remote regions of Russia: 18 years of missionary work in the Altai, preaching Christianity in the North Caucasus and in Kazan—these were the main stages of his life. By birth, he came from a clerical family and was raised in the spirit of conservatism and obedience to Synodal officials. His long career in the clergy (he studied at the theological academy during Protasov’s tenure and ended his service during Pobedonostsev’s) progressed extremely slowly [712] . Anton Khrapovitsky was a completely different man. A prominent representative of the scholarly monastic order, he sought not so much solitary contemplation in a quiet monastic cell as the broad ecclesiastical and political activity of the monastic community, which was called upon to lead the Church everywhere. His ideological predecessors were Joseph of Volotsk and Patriarch Nikon, although he did not agree with them on every point regarding the relationship between the Church and the state. From Joseph of Volotsk, he adopted the idea of cooperation between the Church and the state, and from Nikon—the conviction that spiritual authority should prevail in this union. The former united him with Pobedonostsev, while the latter divided them. Anthony understood that his goal—the restoration of the patriarchate under this chief prosecutor—was unattainable, but he welcomed Pobedonostsev’s church policy to the extent that it was aimed at subjugating the hierarchy and the clergy, for this unlimited authority over the Church was to be inherited by the future patriarch. Antony viewed Pobedonostsev’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor as a period of preparation for the restoration of the patriarchate and “Russian clericalism.” He advocated for the unlimited authority of the bishops and their complete power over the parish clergy. But Pobedonostsev, too, limited this authority only to the extent required by centralized church administration. Taking all this into account, Anthony consciously supported Pobedonostsev and his successor, V. K. Sabler [713] . The spirit of national Orthodoxy, which Pobedonostsev brought with him in the 1880s and which defined the character of the era of Alexander III, was a shocking innovation for a man of Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich’s disposition (see § 7), and for Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov—something already completely alien. For Anthony, however, this trend did not hinder him in the least.

It is unlikely that under Alexander III any department head was as independent as Pobedonostsev in matters of the Church. The constant transfers of bishops every two or three years were intended to prevent the lower clergy and the flock from becoming too close to the bishops, as well as to prevent the emergence within the hierarchy of popular or experienced church politicians. Pobedonostsev appointed as metropolitans and members of the Holy Synod individuals of little significance whom he himself did not hold in high regard—for example, the Moscow metropolitans Leontius of Lebedinsk (1891–1893) and Sergius of Lyapidevo (1893–1898)[714] . Leontius’s predecessor, Metropolitan Ioannikios Rudnev (1882–1891), was transferred by the Chief Prosecutor to Kyiv, where the influence of a bishop with overly independent views was less noticeable. However, as the senior of the three metropolitans—the Moscow See was then held by Vladimir Bogoyavlensky (1898–1912), and the St. Petersburg See by Anthony Vadkovsky (1898–1912)— – Ioanniky became the presiding member of the Holy Synod on December 25, 1898, and only his untimely death (June 7, 1900) put an end to the strained relations between him and the Chief Prosecutor [715] . The last presiding member of Pobedonostsev’s Synod was the relatively young Anthony Vadkovsky, who had been appointed Metropolitan of St. Petersburg in 1898 at the request of Emperor Nicholas II. He perhaps stood out more than any other among the bishops of the final years of the synodal period for his human and pastoral qualities [716] .

Pobedonostsev’s views on the state of the Church were extremely pessimistic: he saw in it nothing more than “churches lost in the depths of the forests and the vastness of the fields… where the people stand dumbly… understanding nothing, under the sexton’s babbling.” This made it all the more necessary, in his view, to demonstrate the outward fullness of the Church’s authority through pompous celebrations. In 1888, the 900th anniversary of the Baptism of Rus’ was celebrated. In 1885, the 1,000th anniversary of the memory of Saints Cyril and Methodius was observed. In 1889, the 50th anniversary of the reunification of the Uniates with the Orthodox Church in Belarus (1839) was celebrated. In 1883, there were three major church celebrations: the 500th anniversary of the apparition of the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God, the 100th anniversary of the repose of St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, and the consecration of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow, which took place with great pomp. With no less grandeur, St. Vladimir’s Cathedral in Kyiv was consecrated in 1896. Churches were built almost exclusively in the Old Russian or pseudo-Byzantine style (see vol. 2, § 26). The opening of numerous parish schools was intended to link religion with nationalist-monarchist propaganda. Newly founded brotherhoods were also called upon to act in the same direction; at least 80 of them emerged during the reign of Alexander III [717] .

The results of this church policy are clearly reflected in volumes 7–9 of Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov’s *Chronicle*. Here, just as in Nikanor Brovkovich’s “Notes,” numerous letters from 1883–1896 are cited, attesting to the growing apathy among the clergy. How different they are from the correspondence between Professor P. S. Kazansky and his brother, Archbishop Platon of Thebes of Kostroma, from the 1860s and the first half of the 1870s—a time that Bishop John Sokolov called the “dawn” of the Church! In Savva’s “Chronicle,” we see its twilight. It is unclear how some historians can claim that during the Pobedonostsev era, “the prestige of the clergy was on the rise”[718] . The numerous abuses committed by state authorities against the clergy, as described by Savva, in no way support such an assessment [719] . Pobedonostsev failed to understand that the “prestige of the clergy” is based on the inner qualities of the clergyman and his pastoral work, and that the moral and religious education of the people is not achieved through lavish church celebrations and the centralization of church administration. Pobedonostsev had no interest in the development of intra-church life; moreover, it frightened him. “In the Orthodox tradition, he valued not what truly kept it alive and strong—not the boldness of heroic deeds—but only its familiar, conventional forms,” notes G. Florovsky. “He was convinced that faith is strong and is strengthened not by reasoning, but that it could not withstand the trials of thought and reflection. He valued what was ancient and traditional more than what was true. Pobedonostsev believed in the protective strength of patriarchal foundations, but did not believe in the creative power of Christ’s truth and righteousness. He feared any action, any movement—conservative inaction seemed to him more reliable than even a heroic deed.”[720] . Based on such principles, Pobedonostsev’s policies deprived the Church of the very foundation that alone could nourish it.

The consequences became apparent during the reign of Nicholas II (October 21, 1894 – March 3, 1917)[721] . Autocracy as a principle of national consciousness was in crisis. After the reforms of Alexander II, very few were prepared to wholeheartedly and fully defend the state ideals of Nicholas I, which Alexander III had promised to uphold and strengthen in his manifesto of April 29, 1881. The very same people who carried out the conservative policy at the head of the army, the administration, and the Church expressed extreme skepticism in their diaries, letters, and private conversations regarding the principles of this policy [722] . Society, especially the local self-governing bodies established under Alexander II (the zemstvos, effective January 1, 1864, and municipal self-government, effective June 16, 1870), preserved the memory of the liberal upsurge at the beginning of Alexander II’s reign. After the relaxation of censorship (1905), the press and journalism once again became influential factors in political life: they exposed shortcomings, offered criticism, and demanded reforms. Liberal and opposition movements—not to mention revolutionary tendencies proper—were, even in their most moderate forms, forces that the government had to reckon with. The demand for freedom of opinion and conscience became the rallying cry of the entire society and was supported even by conservatives [723] .

Nicholas II ascended the throne as a staunch autocrat. He was, unlike any of his predecessors since the days of the Moscow Tsardom, a sincere, deeply devout Christian devoted to the Orthodox Church. He was far removed from the religious indifference of Alexander II, as well as from the primitive, complacent Orthodoxy of Nicholas I and Alexander III. What drew him closer to Alexander I’s religiosity was a penchant for mysticism, which, however, developed not under the influence of passing fads but organically, rooted in his sincere, heartfelt faith, which he maintained from childhood until his very death. Until the very end, Nicholas II felt himself to be God’s anointed one, called to be more of an Orthodox tsar than a Russian emperor. Such a disposition on the part of the sovereign could have served as a guarantee for the normalization of state-church relations, had he been able to find suitable aides. But he lacked this gift. Unable to judge character, he often distrusted those who were worthy and relied on those who clearly did not deserve his trust [724] .

d) With all due respect for his father’s conservative principles, Nicholas II could not ignore public opinion, which demanded reforms. The Manifesto of February 26, 1903, was of fundamental importance for the Church. It proclaimed the sovereign’s will “to strengthen the unwavering observance by the authorities, in matters pertaining to faith, the precepts of religious tolerance set forth in the Fundamental Laws of the Russian Empire, which, while reverently honoring the Orthodox Church as preeminent and dominant, grant all Our subjects of other Christian denominations and other faiths the freedom to practice their faith and worship according to their own rites. “To continue actively implementing measures aimed at improving the financial situation of the Orthodox rural clergy, thereby enhancing the fruitful participation of clergy in the spiritual and social life of their flock”[725] . With regard to the latter, much had already been done in the 19th century, although it was still insufficient (see § 15). Under Nicholas II, the budget of the Holy Synod was also steadily increasing. But even more important was the fundamental intention to change the legal status of other denominations and religions. These plans also affected foreign missionary work, which until then had remained the exclusive prerogative of the Russian Orthodox Church; missionary activity by other denominations was considered a state crime [726] . The enactment of laws on religious tolerance compelled the Russian Church to intensify its preaching activities among parishioners in order to counter the missionary efforts of other Christian denominations. On December 12, 1904, an imperial decree was issued to the chairman of the Committee of Ministers “On the Improvement of Public Order,” in which ministers were asked to consider the issue of the “foundations of religious tolerance.” On April 17, 1905, a manifesto “On Strengthening the Foundations of Religious Tolerance” was issued, which preserved the privileges of the Orthodox Church in the area of missionary work but at the same time facilitated the practice of their religion by other denominations, primarily Old Believers and sectarians,[727] .

This manifesto was discussed at a special conference of the Committee of Ministers, and no one took the trouble to seek the prior opinion of the Holy Synod of the ruling Church. In the end, S. Y. Witte, chairman of the Committee of Ministers and of the aforementioned conference, did turn to the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and consulted with him regarding the reforms deemed desirable from the Holy Synod’s perspective, thereby bypassing Pobedonostsev. Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky, as Witte reports in his memoirs, did not object to the proposed laws on religious tolerance, although he stated, “that this is highly unjust toward the Holy Orthodox Church, for the Orthodox Church does not enjoy the freedoms with which other Churches and other denominations are to be granted. Of course, this was the kind of statement that could not fail to meet not only with the full sympathy of the Committee of Ministers, but could not fail to stir up in the hearts of the members (of the Committee—Ed.), at least in my own soul, the most acute and sorrowful feelings… I reported to His Majesty that, in light of the Metropolitan’s statement, it would be necessary for the Committee of Ministers to consider the fundamental principles that should be established regarding the state’s relationship with the Russian Orthodox Church—principles that could grant the Russian Orthodox Church the necessary freedom of action and autonomy. His Majesty was pleased to approve my recommendations.” After reviewing the report on this conversation, the Committee of Ministers resolved that “the decisions to be outlined by the Committee of Ministers shall be implemented only through the Holy Synod or with its participation, in accordance with established procedure”[728] . Thereafter, Metropolitan Anthony decided to initiate a discussion of these issues and commissioned several professors at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy to draft a report titled “Questions Concerning Desirable Reforms in the Organization of the Orthodox Church in Our Country.” Witte was dissatisfied with the report, which did not address the fundamental issues concerning the relationship between the state and the Church, and ordered that a group of liberal church politicians prepare another report—“On the Current Situation of the Orthodox Church” (in Russia—I. S.)—which he then presented to the Committee of Ministers. It discussed the following points: 1) the non-canonical nature of the structure of church administration; 2) the conciliar principle as a distinctive feature of the Orthodox Church; 3) the need to restore it in the Russian Church; 4) the election of a patriarch who would lead the Church on the basis of conciliarity. Furthermore, the report harshly criticized the bureaucracy of synodal administration under the leadership of the Chief Prosecutor. Pobedonostsev’s response was a memorandum titled “Reflections on Desirable Reforms in the Organization of the Orthodox Church in Our Country.” In it, he resolutely rejected the idea of restoring the patriarchate; the era of the patriarchate, as the memorandum states, was a period characterized by “the lifelessness of ritual formalism.” The patriarchate owed its origins not to the needs of the Church, but to the political ambitions of the tsarist regime. If the patriarchate contradicts the conciliar principle, then the representation of bishops in the Holy Synod is precisely that conciliarity, which, under his (i.e., Pobedonostsev’s) office as Chief Prosecutor, reached its fullest expression in the Local Councils held in Irkutsk, Kazan, and Kyiv. The naivety of Pobedonostsev’s reference to meetings of 8–10 bishops discussing issues of missionary work with sectarians and Old Believers is astonishing. In conclusion, he asserts that there can be no question of “restrictions on the highest church administration and the activities of the clergy by the state authorities”[729] . Witte wrote a reply, and during the discussion in the Committee of Ministers, Pobedonostsev found himself isolated. Then the Chief Prosecutor cut the Gordian knot, securing—during his report to the Emperor on March 13, 1905—that the discussion of these issues be transferred from the jurisdiction of the Special Conference of the Committee of Ministers to the Holy Synod [730] .

Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky wasted no time: after just three sessions (on March 15, 18, and 22), the Holy Synod was able to present a report to the emperor. The report particularly emphasized the need to reform relations between the state and the Church and put forward the following specific proposals: 1) a strictly periodic rotation of diocesan bishops within the Holy Synod; 2) the appointment of a patriarch to head the Holy Synod—“for the honor of the Russian state”; 3) the convening of a Local Council of all Russian bishops to elect a patriarch and to discuss all pressing issues of church life. The report was prepared by the Holy Synod without the participation of the Ober-Procurator and was not approved by him, while his assistant, V. K. Sabler, supported the bishops. Pobedonostsev retaliated by transferring his deputy to the Senate; in response, Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky sent a letter to Sabler expressing his approval, gratitude, and sympathy [731] .

The fact that Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky managed to secure an audience with the emperor for himself, Metropolitan Vladimir of Moscow, and Metropolitan Flavian of Kyiv—and to present the Synod’s report—signaled the decline of Pobedonostsev’s influence. But this time, the Chief Prosecutor proved to be the stronger: on March 31, 1905, the emperor issued a resolution on the report which, while not disputing the necessity of convening a Local Council, deemed it inappropriate to do so during “these troubled times we are currently experiencing.” The resolution reveals the duality of the sovereign’s position: on the one hand, as an Orthodox Christian, he agreed to convene a Local Council to resolve ecclesiastical discord; on the other hand, he felt hesitant whenever the question of changing the traditional order arose [732] . Nevertheless, the first part of the resolution left open the possibility that the Council might be held at a later date. The metropolitan and the synodal bishops acted accordingly and did not drop the subject. Public opinion was fully prepared for internal political reforms after they were announced by a royal rescript to the Minister of the Interior dated February 18, 1905.[733] Under these circumstances, the pretext put forward by Nicholas II for postponing church reform seemed unconvincing.

Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky, a staunch supporter of reforms, had a significant influence on the course of events. On July 27, 1905, the Holy Synod sent a request to the diocesan bishops asking what reforms in the area of church administration were deemed desirable, thereby making them a subject of discussion for the entire Church. Although the inquiry was addressed only to the bishops, some of them consulted with their parishes before sending their responses to the Synod. These responses were sufficiently comprehensive to allow the Holy Synod to form a general picture of the Church’s needs and the bishops’ sentiments. Political events were driving the issue of reform. On October 17, 1905, an imperial manifesto was issued, announcing the convening of the State Duma as a consultative legislative body. The manifesto granted “the people an unshakable foundation of civil liberty based on the principles of genuine personal inviolability, freedom of conscience, speech, assembly, and association”[734] . Two days later, Chief Prosecutor Pobedonostsev was dismissed and replaced by Prince D. A. Obolensky, a moderate conservative. On December 17, the emperor granted an audience to the three metropolitans, as the senior members of the Holy Synod, “to convey directly the tsar’s instructions regarding the upcoming convening of the Local Council of the All-Russian Church.” On December 27, the metropolitans were entrusted with Nicholas’s instruction to set a date for convening a consultative assembly to prepare the necessary church reforms. As early as January 14, 1906, the Holy Synod resolved to form a special committee for this purpose, headed by Metropolitan Anthony. On January 16, this decision was approved by the Emperor—thus establishing a special committee under the Holy Synod to develop issues to be discussed by the Local Council of the All-Russian Church [735] . As early as December 17, 1905, “His Imperial Majesty deigned to state that at the present time, given the evident instability in the realm of religious beliefs and moral principles, the reorganization of the Orthodox Russian Church—the guardian of eternal Christian truth and piety—appears to be a matter of urgent necessity”. During the second audience, on December 27, Nicholas “deigned to express his will that certain reforms be carried out in the structure of our national Church on the firm foundations of the ecumenical canons for the greater affirmation of Orthodoxy.” “And therefore,” writes Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky, “he proposed to me that, together with Metropolitan Vladimir of Moscow and Metropolitan Flavian of Kyiv, I determine the time for convening the long-awaited Council by all the faithful sons of the Church.” The Pre-Council Assembly met from March 8 to December 15, 1906. It was then dissolved by imperial decree, and its work was continued by the Holy Synod. The final report of the Most Holy Synod was approved by the tsar on April 25, 1907, with some amendments, but the convening of the Local Council was again postponed indefinitely under the same pretext—in view of “the troubled times we are currently experiencing”[736] . It is unlikely that this was due to objections from any of the chief prosecutors (there were three of them over the course of a year and a half: A. D. Obolensky was succeeded by A. A. Shirinsky-Shikhmatoff in April 1906, and by P. P. Izvolsky in July of the same year). Apparently, political fears in court circles and within the Ministry of the Interior played a role. The opposition-dominated composition of the First State Duma may also have been a cause for concern, as it led one to expect strong opposition at the Local Council as well, in which laypeople were also to participate. Newspapers and magazines of those years fiercely criticized the state’s church policy and the episcopate [737] . Radical-liberal groups were forming among the White clergy. Priests G. Petrov and K. Kolokoltsov (the former a member of the Cadet Party, the latter of the Socialist-Revolutionary Party) did not hesitate to launch the sharpest attacks against the government from the rostrum of the Second State Duma. All of this threatened the very idea of the Local Council. Other groups, by contrast, belonged to the far right and advocated for unlimited autocracy. The sermons on the Last Judgment delivered by Metropolitan Vladimir of Moscow on October 17, 1905, and by Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky at St. Isaac’s Cathedral in St. Petersburg on February 20, 1905, caused quite a stir. The clergy began to get involved in partisan struggles and to speak out on issues of domestic policy in general. It was difficult to explain to the people that not every statement made by men in cassocks necessarily reflected the position of the Church as such [738] .

After postponing the planned reforms, the government found itself in a difficult position vis-à-vis the State Duma, which also criticized the state’s policy toward the Church. However, the Chairman of the Council of Ministers, P. A. Stolypin, did not abandon the government’s traditional position. At a session of the Second State Duma on March 6, 1907, he said: “…the government had to define its stance toward the Orthodox Church and firmly establish that the centuries-old bond between the Russian state and the Christian Church obliges it to base all laws on freedom of conscience on the principles of a Christian state, in which the Orthodox Church, as the dominant church, enjoys special respect and special protection from the state. By safeguarding the rights and privileges of the Orthodox Church, the government is thereby called upon to safeguard the full freedom of its internal governance and organization and to support all its initiatives that are in accordance with the general laws of the state.” In another speech, on May 22, 1909, before the Third State Duma, Stolypin declared that following the abolition of the patriarchate, all “conciliar authority” had passed to the Holy Synod. “From that time on, in matters of dogma and canon law, the Holy Governing Synod acts completely autonomously. Nor is the Synod constrained by state authority in matters of ecclesiastical legislation, which is submitted directly to the monarch for approval and concerns the internal administration and internal organization of the Church”[739] .

These excerpts show that the government still adhered to the position set forth in the Fundamental Laws of 1832, the wording of which remained unchanged in the new 1906 edition. The question of whether § 65 of the Fundamental Laws in the 1906 edition distinguishes ecclesiastical legislation from general state legislation remained, in essence, a matter of theoretical debate among legal scholars. In practice, however, the laws debated in the State Duma also concerned the Church, and the very fact that the bills were introduced by the government eliminated the direct relationship between the monarch and the Church. In the critical speeches of State Duma orators, which touched on all areas of church administration, attacks on precisely this relationship grew increasingly intense, especially after V. K. Sabler was appointed Chief Prosecutor [740] .

The State Duma certainly had no shortage of reasons for this kind of criticism. Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky, who at the time was Bishop of Kholm, a member of the Holy Synod from 1908 to 1912, and a deputy of the Third State Duma representing the Nationalist Party, writes about this in his memoirs: “The Church’s subjugation and its subordination to state authority were felt very strongly within the Synod. The Chief Prosecutor was a member of the Council of Ministers; each Council of Ministers had its own policy, and higher circles also influenced it, and the Chief Prosecutor, disregarding the Church’s voice, directed the Synod’s activities in accordance with the directives he received. The Synod had no voice of its own; it could not speak out and had grown unaccustomed to doing so. The state’s authority drowned out everything. The primacy of secular power suppressed the Church’s freedom from top to bottom… This long period of enforced silence and subordination to the state fostered within the Synod itself habits that were inherently foreign to the ecclesiastical principles of Orthodoxy—namely, resolving matters in the spirit of external, formal ecclesiastical authority and the unquestionable nature of its hierarchical decrees”[741] . However, in the State Duma, Evlogii considered it necessary to support the Chief Prosecutor. The problem of the direct relationship between the monarch and the Church also intensified within the Holy Synod. “On several occasions,” Evlogii recalls, “the question was raised in the Synod that the presiding member of the Synod should report to the sovereign, at least in the presence of the Chief Prosecutor. However, nothing came of it.” Sabler’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor significantly complicated the government’s ecclesiastical and political positions in its relations with public opinion and the State Duma. Let us refer again to Evlogii: “When the Chief Prosecutor was relatively acceptable and sought ways to build closer ties with the Church, things were easier for the Synod. Such were Izvolsky and Lukyanov… Chief Prosecutor Sabler, on the other hand, knew the Church well, loved it, and worked hard for it; but then another problem arose: his name was associated with Rasputin in society and in the Duma”[742] . The influence of this sinister figure extended not only to Sabler but also to a significant circle of the upper echelons of society and the bureaucracy, which had an extremely adverse effect on the Church’s position. The Duma’s hostility toward Sabler effectively led to a sharp rejection of the entire system of church governance, not only by the liberal parties but also by the conservative ones. None other than the extreme monarchist V. M. Purishkevich spoke from the Duma rostrum, saying: “Neither the Left, nor the revolutionaries, nor the Social Democrats, nor the Cadets, nor the Trudoviks—no one has done as much harm to the Orthodox Church over the past three or four years, or even ten years… as the current Chief Prosecutor”[743] . Any bill introduced by the government that concerned church matters became a pretext for criticizing the Church [744] . The political positions of deputies from the clergy also caused the Church a great deal of trouble, because in the eyes of the public they appeared not merely as representatives of the people—which they were by law—but as representatives of the Church in the State Duma. Due to their conservative leanings, most of these deputies aligned themselves with the right or the center (the Octobrists) and supported the government, with the result that their position came to be regarded as that of the Church as a whole [745] . Before the elections to the Fourth State Duma, it occurred to Sabler to form his own clerical party from among the clergy, and he tried to persuade Bishop Evlogii to support this. The latter refused, arguing that clericalism would only harm the Russian Church. This viewpoint did not find favor with Sabler; he preferred to rely on those bishops who, for the most part, openly supported extreme monarchist factions in their dioceses [746] .

Rasputin’s appearance “in the highest circles of Russian society deepened the rift between the Duma and the Church,” writes Evlogii Georgievsky, who himself moved in those circles and, during his three years in St. Petersburg as a deputy and member of the Holy Synod, had ample opportunity to observe this adventurer’s activities firsthand [747] . The figure of the “elder” Grigory Rasputin-Novykh (murdered on December 17, 1916) was a challenge to all opposition forces; he played a significant role in uniting them and intensifying the pressure on the state authorities, and ultimately in paving the way for the revolution. Despite the selectivity and subjectivity of the extensive memoir literature on the last two decades of tsarist Russia, it clearly shows that Rasputin’s supporters used him for their own careerist purposes, while his opponents—especially within the left-wing parties of the State Duma—found in him a convenient target for their anti-government rhetoric. Rasputin’s role in the appointment of high-ranking government officials, even ministers, and his influence on the imperial family—above all on the Empress—are well known. The religious and psychological motivations behind this remarkable phenomenon deserve detailed examination [748] .

Rasputin’s emergence was linked to trends in Russian religious life that were equally characteristic of both the peasantry and the European-educated upper classes, with roots in the history of Russian sectarianism. Metropolitan Evlogii offers the following characterization of Rasputin: “…a Siberian wanderer seeking God and heroic deeds, yet at the same time a dissolute and depraved man, a being of demonic power; at first, he combined tragedy in his soul and life: his fervent religious exploits and soaring highs were interspersed with plunges into the abyss of sin. As long as he was aware of the horror of this tragedy, all was not yet lost, but he subsequently came to justify his downfalls—and that was the end”[749] . Rasputin’s acceptance in the highest circles was explained by their inclination toward sectarian religiosity. The history of Russian sectarianism offers many examples of a distorted yet stubbornly defended understanding of Christian asceticism. The phenomenon of Rasputin is also related to another aspect of Russian spirituality—holy madness, or “yurodstvo”—which often bordered on sectarianism. Holy folly, or folly for Christ’s sake—a concept present even in early Christianity—plays a major role in Russian piety as one of the paths to Christian perfection through self-abasement and humility. At first, Rasputin was considered a true holy fool, who thereby deserved recognition and respect. Nicholas II, who met Rasputin in 1906, saw him as a man of pure faith [750] . While he may have appeared to be such at first, Rasputin’s subsequent behavior and speeches on Christian asceticism revealed his affiliation with the Khlysts sect. Unfortunately, the diocesan authorities, preoccupied mainly with combating schismatics, did not attach particular importance to the widespread growth of this sect [751] . Within the circle that formed around Rasputin, elements of Khlystism were very clearly evident. For the capital, this was nothing new. In the early 19th century, during the period of mysticism, as well as later, the fanatical religiosity of the Khlysts found many adherents among the aristocracy; therefore, the groundwork for Rasputin’s emergence in high society had already been laid. Like the Khlysts of the 18th century, he knew how to influence members of both the white and black clergy and find support in church circles. Rasputin’s influence in the highest circles and at court was most evident in the so-called case of Iliodor Trufanov.

Hieromonk Iliodor Trufanov gained popularity through his sermons in Tsaritsyn (1910–1911). He was a fanatic who attacked the intelligentsia, Jews, and the State Duma, glorified autocracy, and stirred up unrest among the people. Stolypin decided to intervene, and at the initiative of Chief Prosecutor Lukyanov, the Holy Synod ruled that Iliodor be removed from the Tsaritsyn monastery. Iliodor disregarded this order, which was ultimately revoked by the Tsar as a result of Rasputin’s intercession, since Rasputin maintained good relations with Iliodor. Iliodor also enjoyed the patronage of his diocesan bishop, Hermogenes Dolganov. Rasputin’s revenge soon caught up with the wayward Chief Prosecutor: he was removed from office. His successor turned out to be Rasputin’s protégé, V. K. Sabler. Evlogii’s memoirs provide many details of this unfortunate affair, which discredited the Holy Synod and the church administration in the eyes of the faithful [752] . In late 1911, Iliodor and Hermogenes fell out with Rasputin and demanded that he change his dissolute lifestyle; Hermogenes, who was a member of the Holy Synod at the time, even publicly excommunicated Rasputin. But Rasputin proved to be the stronger party: on November 30, 1911, Iliodor was removed from office by order of the Chief Prosecutor, and Hermogenes was dismissed from the Synod, even though the session had not yet ended. Hermogenes refused to comply and filed a complaint against the Holy Synod with the emperor, who, however, ordered the bishop to retire to one of the monasteries in Western Russia. In Hermogenes’ Saratov Diocese, Sabler conducted an audit that allegedly uncovered irregularities there, but this could not deceive public opinion: everyone understood that the reason for Hermogenes’ punishment was his disagreements with Rasputin. Hermogenes lost his see and remained in exile until 1917. These events, which the public followed with great concern despite the measures taken by the censors, were repeatedly addressed by the State Duma; for example, far-right deputies V. V. Shulgin and V. M. Purishkevich pointed out with deep concern that the Chief Prosecutor’s church policy was undermining the monarch’s authority. Moderate right-wingers also sharply attacked Sabler [753] . But despite all this, his position with the tsar remained unchanged, according to the general belief, thanks to Rasputin’s patronage.

On November 2, 1912, Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky died. He was succeeded by Metropolitan Vladimir Bogoyavlensky, who was initially able to establish himself in this position despite his strained relations with Sabler and Rasputin, as the outbreak of war had pushed church matters into the background. In June 1915, following changes in the Council of Ministers, Sabler was dismissed, and A. D. Samarin was appointed Chief Prosecutor. A moderate conservative, Samarin considered it his duty to take on Rasputin. Correspondence between the tsar and the tsarina reveals how, under Rasputin’s influence, Alexandra Feodorovna insisted on Samarin’s dismissal, which she ultimately achieved in the fall of 1915. His successors, A. N. Volzhin and N. P. Raev, were under intense pressure from Rasputin’s faction, which even influenced the appointment of bishops. As early as 1912–1914, under Sable, some of Rasputin’s protégés had become bishops and members of the Holy Synod [754] . Now, on November 23, 1915, Metropolitan Vladimir was transferred to Kyiv, and Archbishop Pitirim Oknov of Vladikavkaz—who was under Rasputin’s patronage—was appointed to the Diocese of St. Petersburg. At Rasputin’s insistence, the elderly Makarii Nevsky was installed as Metropolitan of Moscow, and Barnabas Nakropin as Bishop of Tobolsk; Nikon Rozhdestvensky, who had advocated for unlimited autocracy in his sermons, became a member of the Holy Synod. None of the three had a higher education, and at court they were admired for their simplicity [755] .

Church policy during the last two years of the war depended on shifts within the Council of Ministers, which demonstrated the monarch’s complete incompetence and powerlessness. Under the influence of his wife, who did her best to reinforce his—already inherent—belief in the religious essence of autocracy, Nicholas II stubbornly refused to cooperate with the zemstvo bodies. In light of growing opposition to the government as a whole, deputies from various parties in the State Duma increasingly criticized the aimlessness and lack of structure in its church policy, and calls for radical reforms grew ever louder. The debate over the Holy Synod’s budget for 1916 provided an opportunity for clergy deputies from all factions to insist that “the Church must be liberated, freed from all external, extraneous, and irresponsible influences… The Church must not be merely a tool in the hands of the state”[756] .

This reminder of a promise made ten years earlier—to convene an All-Russian Local Council—which had never been fulfilled, fell on deaf ears. The Local Council was able to convene only after the 1917 Revolution. It ushered in a new, extraordinarily complex era in the history of the long-suffering Russian Church.

§ 10. The Government and the Question of Church Estates

a) The issue of church estates was never definitively resolved in the Muscovite state. Although, in theory, the Church’s right to own land was recognized, in practice it was constantly infringed upon: the use of the land was effectively restricted, and a portion of the income was remitted to the treasury [757] . After the Church succeeded in abolishing the Monastic Office in 1677, it seemed that victory was on its side. However, at the beginning of Peter I’s reign, financial needs arising from the war with Sweden once again brought the issue of church lands to the forefront.

The tsar’s decrees of 1696 requiring diocesan administrations and monasteries to submit annual reports on expenditures for construction, grain reserves, and so on were nothing new [758] . Expense ledgers were to be submitted to the Palace Office, which—following the pre-Petrine model—was tasked with overseeing the economic activities of dioceses and monasteries. The decree was reiterated in 1698—evidently due to its poor implementation [759] . Following the death of Patriarch Adrian on October 16, 1700, Peter I received a note from Alexei Kurbatov (see § 2), who drew the tsar’s attention to the patriarchal treasury and the possibility of using church estates to meet the needs of the treasury [760] . On December 16, 1700, the Palace Office was abolished, and on January 24, 1701, the Monastery Office was reinstated, headed by Boyar I. A. Musin-Pushkin, whom Kurbatov had recommended [761] . His responsibilities, as in the 17th century, included the registration of peasant households on church lands, as well as income-generating real estate and industrial structures such as mills, etc.[762] In 1701, the Monastic Office administered 137,823 peasant households [763] . As early as the 17th century, the state had collected taxes from these households for the treasury, utilizing the services of church institutions. Now, however, it acted more vigorously and entrusted tax collection to officers. This practice was entirely unusual and caused discontent in the dioceses and monasteries. Monasteries were required to provide food for the dragoons, fodder for the horses, and lodging for foreigners who had entered the tsar’s service. A number of estates were assigned to manufactories and factories or simply confiscated by the sovereign. It sometimes happened that church estates were distributed or sold to the sovereign’s officials. Existing taxes were increased and new ones were introduced: for shipbuilding, hospitals, the maintenance of dragoon regiments, the construction of canals, and so on.[764] The result of such often arbitrary and ill-conceived measures was the decline of the estates, a decrease in their profitability, and, ultimately, the flight of peasants. Until 1721, it sometimes happened that the Monastery Office leased the monasteries’ own estates back to them on the condition that they pay certain taxes on them [765] .

The census of households lasted from 1701 to 1707; amendments were then made, and in 1710 it was completed, receiving the name “Table of 1710”[766] . This Table also regulated the system of financial support for diocesan administrations and bishops. Revenue from a specific portion of the lands retained by the diocesan administration was used for its upkeep; other estates provided for the maintenance of charitable institutions, schools, and hospitals. As a result, two groups of estates emerged: the so-called “designated” estates, intended for the maintenance of church institutions, and the “non-designated” estates, which served the treasury [767] . By the end of Peter I’s reign, taxes from the second group amounted to 31,075 rubles in 1720, 42,924 rubles in 1723, and 83,218 rubles in 1724.[768] The tsar’s order to reduce the number of monks during his lifetime by limiting the budgetary support for monasteries was never carried out. The 1724 Table of Allocations set a stipend of 6 rubles and 5 quarters of grain for each monk, with an additional allowance for the abbot. But even these amounts were not always paid in full [769] .

All departments, including the Monastic Department, were disbanded when the collegia—founded in 1717—began operating in 1720. The Chamber Collegium, which oversaw state revenues, inherited not only the Monastic Office’s functions regarding the management of estates but also its staff, in accordance with Peter’s decree of August 17, 1720; The State Office, as the agency responsible for overseeing state expenditures, monitored the use of revenues from these estates [770] . A few months later, the establishment of the Holy Synod brought about further changes [771] . Already at the first meeting of the Ecclesiastical Collegium, it was decided to ask the tsar how church estates should now be managed. At the end of the memorandum (see § 3), which affirmed that it was “in the interest of His Imperial Majesty,” it was stated that the “Spiritual Regulations” supposedly stipulated that the administration of the estates should fall under the jurisdiction of the Spiritual College. Although this assertion was not true, the Tsar granted the request of the Holy Synod (as the Ecclesiastical Collegium had been renamed) and returned the church estates to the administration of the church authorities [772] . At the request of the Holy Synod, the former Monastic Office was reinstated, but now as a synodal institution under the name of the Chamber Office of the Synodal Administration; it was tasked with collecting state taxes and transferring them to the Chamber Collegium and the State Office along with reports. Both of these collegia functioned as higher authorities with respect to the Synodal Chamber Office in matters of supervision and control, while the Holy Synod exercised directive authority over its representatives in the dioceses—the so-called commissioners—to whom, in turn, the administrative bodies governing the dioceses and estates were subordinate [773] . From the state’s perspective, this system proved ineffective: as early as 1721–1722, tax arrears from church estates amounted to 120,000 rubles. In view of this, Peter I, at the request of the collegia, ordered that the salaries of Synod members, Synod officials, and monastic stipends be reduced to a minimum and paid in grain. As soon as special audit officers had collected part of the arrears from the dioceses, the emperor authorized the payment of salaries in proportion to these amounts; and only after heeding the urgent requests of the Holy Synod did he order to pay the full maintenance allowances [774] . Throughout the entire process of secularization, especially in the first half of the 18th century, the state treasury suffered significant losses due to such tax arrears. Tax registers were compiled carelessly, and at times deliberately incorrectly, while the diocesan authorities had absolutely no interest in collecting state taxes. Furthermore, the state tax system was too cumbersome, and the reporting requirements were extremely complex [775] .

As a result of such administrative practices, by the end of Peter I’s reign, state authorities had gradually come to regard “designated” church estates as essentially belonging to the state. The lion’s share of tax revenue from church lands came precisely from these “assigned” estates, and it was then that the view took hold that these funds were intended exclusively for state expenditures and that the Synod had no claim to them [776] . In 1724, Peter I expressed a desire to review the taxes on “designated” estates and ordered the Holy Synod “henceforth to determine without fail both the number of people and their salaries, as well as funds for church needs and household expenses.” Although the revised budgets of 1724 never took effect during Peter I’s reign, the documents regarding the allocation of funds from the general tax revenue for church institutions were already prepared [777] .

b) In July 1726, the Holy Synod was divided into two departments, the second of which, on September 26 of that same year, was named the Collegium of Economy of the Synodal Administration. In addition to judicial and administrative functions, it was tasked with “overseeing collections and financial management and other similar matters, following the example of the former Patriarchal Department and other departments then under the Patriarchate’s jurisdiction.” The College of Finance was charged with “reporting on secular matters to the High Senate”; in other words, it was subordinate to it [778] . Under these circumstances, the Holy Synod was primarily interested in the revenues from “designated” estates under the Church’s control. It requested that Empress Catherine I leave these amounts unchanged from what they had been prior to the 1724 statutes, since, in the Synod’s opinion, those statutes were incorrect [779] . The Supreme Privy Council, in consultation with the Senate, decided that the division established by Peter into “designated” and “non-designated” church lands should remain in effect until a new decree was issued. The Senate could regard the Synod’s Collegium of Economy as its own body within the church administrative apparatus: although it was considered part of the Synod, it consisted of secular officials and handled the affairs of the Chamber Office—which had by then been abolished—under the administrative supervision of the Senate [780] . This new system failed to overcome the difficulties of tax collection: over the course of eight years (1724–1732), the amount of tax arrears rose to 81,000 rubles. Alongside the Collegium of Economy, the Senate itself took up the task of tax collection, enlisting the provincial authorities and declaring in 1736 that the actual cause of the deficit was the negligence of the monastery stewards [781] . Subsequent developments led to the Senate’s administrative control over the Collegium of Economy becoming even stricter.

A decree to the Senate dated April 15, 1738, states that the collegium is to “be under the jurisdiction of the Senate, and that from this time forward the Synod shall have no jurisdiction over that collegium, since it deals with taxes and other economic matters that fall under the Senate’s jurisdiction, and there are no ecclesiastical matters that might concern the Synod”[782] . In all matters concerning the Collegium of Economy, the Holy Synod was obliged to refer to the Senate. Independent of the Holy Synod, the College of Finance began to manage church estates even worse than the Tatars, as Archbishop Arseny Matseevich later complained. The tax burden was exacerbated by the complexity of the collection system. The Board of Finance demanded taxes in the form of a per capita tax, whil , at the local level, collection was practically carried out on a household basis. As a result, unreasonable and unbearable levies arose. For example, in 1744, in the Rostov Diocese, there were 16,527 tax-paying peasants registered on church lands across 4,412 households; all of them were “designated” and were required to pay the Board of Economy 4,000 rubles.[783] By the end of 1740, all “assigned” church estates had been transferred to the jurisdiction of the Collegium. “Thus, from 1738 onward, the Collegium became the institution on which the Church’s financial situation depended almost entirely”[784] . A decree dated January 2, 1739, stipulated that even “the possessions, money, and all manner of items left behind by clergy” were subject to the administration of the Board of Finance. This effectively repealed Article 61 of the “Additions” to the “Spiritual Regulations,” according to which the inheritance of monks was transferred to the Holy Synod [785] .

The College’s independent activities, particularly during the reign of Anna Ioannovna when it wielded immense power, yielded no benefits to the treasury. In 1738, tax arrears in a single Synodal district amounted to 40,000 rubles, whereas the total arrears of all dioceses in 1732 amounted, as already mentioned, to only 81,000 rubles. Under Empress Anna Ioannovna, a special Tax Collection Office was even established, endowed with extraordinary powers, whose activities proved no less detrimental to the state treasury than those of the empress’s notorious Secret Chancellery. It was tasked with collecting tax arrears in the most ruthless manner from all estates, both secular and ecclesiastical; it had at its disposal military enforcement units that ran amok in the villages, not shying away from torture. During the Turkish War, state finances were in a most deplorable state; the measures of fiscal and administrative pressure were commensurate with this situation. “Many provinces have been ravaged as if by war or a plague,” declared Field Marshal Minich [786] . On November 17, 1742, Archbishop Ambrose Yushkevich of Novgorod and Metropolitan Arsenius Maceevich of Rostov submitted a memorandum to Empress Elizabeth in which they bitterly complained about “our most holy economy,” which, “despising Christian law, has even laid hands on church property… our Church suffers no more under the Turks than it does here in Russia.” In a supplementary report dated December 27 of the same year, both hierarchs stated: “Moreover, it is dangerous to burden the Church, our mother, who has suffered for so long, lest her life-saving breasts be depleted,” and they asked the Empress for “mercy toward the Church of Christ” (see § 8)[787] .

On July 15, 1744, Empress Elizabeth ordered the Collegium of Finance to be abolished and the church estates to be transferred to the administration of the Holy Synod, under which a special Office of Synodal Financial Administration was established [788] . The Holy Synod hastened to delegate its representatives from among the clergy to the office, thereby entering into a long-standing conflict with the Ober-Procurator, Prince Y. P. Shakhovsky, who demanded that secular officials be appointed there [789] . The Chief Prosecutor viewed church matters from a Petrine perspective, which coincided with the aspirations of Empress Elizabeth. “The most significant feature of the final period of attempts to regulate ecclesiastical property law was the open desire, expressed in legislation and decrees issued by the highest ecclesiastical authorities, to return to the principles established by Peter I”[790] , asserts a researcher of the period of secularization. This assertion does not fully correspond to the reality of the situation. Of course, the decree of July 15, 1744, formally bore some resemblance to Peter I’s decree of February 14, 1721; however, developments in the following decades led to a situation where the government was simply no longer able to relinquish its participation in the administration and control of church estates. The protracted disputes between the Chief Prosecutor and the Holy Synod—which at times turned into personal attacks [791] —led to Elizabeth’s government regarding the decree of July 15 as a mistake and embarking on the preparation of the complete secularization of church lands. This conclusion is important for assessing the actions of Peter III and Catherine II, who were merely implementing what had already been decided during Elizabeth’s reign. Chief Prosecutor Shakhovskoy insisted that the Office of Economic Administration be staffed by secular officials, as had already been the case in the Monastic Office from 1701 to 1720. At the same time, they were tasked with overseeing the management of church estates on the ground. Shakhovskoy even secured the issuance of special instructions for the latter, which laid out in detail measures for the most meticulous oversight. The slowness of the Synod’s administrative procedures aroused the Chief Prosecutor’s growing dissatisfaction, often forcing him to lodge direct protests.

On October 1, 1748, at the initiative of Prince Shakhovskoy, a personal decree was issued that unequivocally demonstrated that the government had once again taken an interest in church estates and intended to repeal the decree of July 15, 1744. The 1748 decree required the Holy Synod to provide the most accurate data on income from church estates and detailed information on how it was spent, as well as on the number of male residents on these estates; in addition, a report was required on cash and grain reserves and on income by each category, including the peasants’ labor obligations to landowners [792] . This last requirement caused extreme consternation within the Holy Synod. Until then, neither the diocesan bishops nor the monasteries had reported on the peasants’ obligations in kind, which they had always collected for their own benefit; therefore, it was to be expected that the reports would contain inaccurate, understated data. The Holy Synod had not the slightest chance of obtaining accurate information to present to the government. Since reports from the dioceses reached the Synod very slowly, the latter was able to submit only a partial report in the summer of 1749, which the Chief Prosecutor found to be inaccurate and incomplete. The report was not submitted to the government until 1754, after Shakhovsky had already resigned. Despite all efforts, the financial data still appeared suspicious. Nevertheless, the Holy Synod’s 1754 report provided some insight into the peasant population on church lands. The diocesan estates, including the Synodal Region, were recorded as having 647,481; the estates of the nine stauropegial monasteries—203,587; and, consequently, a total of 851,078 male souls [793] .

On December 31, 1753, the Holy Synod, by its own authority, abolished the distinction between “designated” and “non-designated” estates. When the peasants of the “non-assigned” estates learned that, by decree of July 15, 1744, they were being placed under the authority of the ecclesiastical authorities, unrest broke out among them; it became clear that they expected nothing from such a change but an intensification of oppression and arbitrariness [794] . The unrest, which continued right up until the secularization of church lands, attested to the complete inadequacy of the church’s administration of these estates [795] .

At the same time, new disagreements arose between the Synod and the government regarding the placement of disabled persons and those discharged from military service in monasteries. Peter I had already demanded that monasteries establish homes for the elderly and the disabled. The relevant decrees were repeatedly reissued thereafter [796] , and in 1753, the Empress’s Cabinet sent a request to the Holy Synod to report on the number of disabled persons being cared for at the monasteries. The Holy Synod reported that the monasteries could not determine the exact number of places for the disabled due to the lack of firmly established quotas. Correspondence on this matter dragged on for several years. On October 6, 1757, Her Imperial Majesty’s Conference issued a decree to the Holy Synod which, in addition to resolving the issue of the disabled, reorganized the administration of church estates. “On the 30th day of last September,” the decree stated, “Her Imperial Majesty, presiding in person at the Conference, deigned to command”: 1) church estates are to be administered by retired officers; 2) church estates are to be treated as private landholdings for financial purposes; 3) revenues must be remitted to the treasuries of the diocesan administrations and monasteries; 4) only the amounts stipulated in the staffing tables may be used for the maintenance of both; 5) monasteries are obligated to care for the disabled and, for this purpose, to build homes for the disabled; surplus funds must be remitted to the state treasury [797] . In addition, the Holy Synod was required to: 1) promptly determine the staffing levels of monasteries; 2) provide accurate data on revenues; 3) provide information on the monasteries’ capacity to admit the disabled. The primary reason for this reorganization was the Holy Synod’s inability to report on the financial condition of the estates and the revenues derived from them. Furthermore, the state treasury was in a precarious position due to increased expenditures during the Seven Years’ War, and it is therefore noteworthy that Her Imperial Majesty’s Conference—which usually dealt only with matters of foreign policy and war—turned its attention to the issue of church lands. As early as August of that same year, the Conference imposed a mandatory loan of 350,000 rubles on the Holy Synod. Finally, members of the Conference prepared a memorandum on the necessity of state administration of church estates. Moreover, the issue of war invalids had become particularly urgent [798] .

No government in the half-century during which the issue of church estates remained trapped within a circulus vitiosus [vicious circle (Latin)] displayed as much inability to reach any clear decision, or as much vacillation and inconsistency, as Elizabeth’s government. At the same time, as A. Zavyalov rightly points out, during this period the Church’s right of ownership over the land was never called into question; the issue at hand was solely the right to manage it [799] . It is unlikely that the reason for this lay in the government’s alleged agreement with the views of 17th- and 18th-century church hierarchs—such as Arseny Maceevich—or in the government’s lack of courage to simply seize church estates. Most likely, the decisive factor was the half-hearted nature of Peter I’s church reform itself, both in this matter and in general. Government policy during the period of secularization was based on Peter’s idea of the need to make the most rational use of church estates in the interests of the treasury, disregarding the Church’s de facto right of ownership but without legally challenging it. Fluctuations in government policy depended on the state of the treasury at any given moment and on the assessment of which was more advantageous at that time: secular or ecclesiastical administration. Under these circumstances, the Holy Synod was able to maneuver and, insisting on its right of ownership, fight for partial or full control over church estates. The resolution of this long-standing conflict was facilitated by the establishment of a budget for dioceses and monasteries, which was again addressed in the decree of October 6, 1757. By determining the total amount necessary for the maintenance of church institutions, the government could freely dispose of any surplus income from church estates. However, clarity on this issue was by no means in the interest of the Holy Synod, which sought to conceal its revenues and expenditures under a veil of uncertainty. It seems that the Holy Synod envisioned the consequences of establishing fixed budgets much more clearly than the government did. In 1724, 1727, 1739, and 1740, the government repeatedly reminded the Synod of the possible establishment of staffing quotas, but each time it proved far from insistent enough to prevent the Synod from evading the issue with ever-new excuses. The Holy Synod responded to every draft of the staffing plan with references to the impossibility of obtaining accurate data and refused to recognize it as binding. One cannot even claim that the Synod was wrong in this regard, since constant changes in the administrative system could indeed have made it nearly impossible to form a clear picture of the income derived from church estates [800] .

The tactics of the Holy Synod during Elizabeth’s 20-year reign took into account the empress’s character and her benevolence toward the Church. Apart from the resolute opposition of Metropolitan Arseny Maceevich of Rostov, there were no open protests; instead, methods of bureaucratic delay were employed—and not without success—in an effort to paralyze the measures undertaken by the state authorities. This fate befell both the decree to the Holy Synod regarding the submission of the required budget dated October 6, 1757, and the follow-up decree of March 29, 1758; in January 1759, a reminder of the decree of October 1, 1748, was issued. In its response, the Holy Synod referred to its report from 1754, even though it had already been deemed unsatisfactory at that time. On January 22, 1759, the Senate informed the Synod of the appointment of a special prosecutor for the Office of Economic Administration, to which the Holy Synod objected, pointing out that such a position was not provided for in the decree of June 15, 1744. It is unknown how the Empress, who was already ill at the time, reacted to the Holy Synod’s objections [801] . Based on certain directives sent by Her Imperial Majesty’s Conference to the Holy Synod, A. Zavyalov concludes that in the final years of Elizabeth’s reign, representatives of state interests—particularly the Senate—held the upper hand in matters concerning church land ownership. Even the fact that the Holy Synod, at joint conferences with the Senate on June 24 and August 6, 1760, secured for itself the right to administer church estates and a temporary suspension of the 1757 decree does not yet prove that the government had abandoned its intention to reform the system of church estate administration. The reform announced in 1757 was moving toward rapid implementation [802] . The Holy Synod owed its temporary success to the commitment it had undertaken to pay the government 300,000 rubles annually from the revenues of church lands [803] . Correspondence between Bishop Ambrose of Zertis-Kamensk and Metropolitan Arsenius Maceevich shows that the hierarchs were already concerned about further secularization at that time [804] .

Under Peter III, efforts to reform the system of managing church estates became more persistent, which was entirely consistent with the emperor’s conviction regarding the need for a general church reform (see § 8). Its champion was A. I. Glebov, General Prosecutor of the Senate, whose involvement largely shaped the text of Peter III’s decrees [805] . In his decree to the Senate dated February 16, 1762, the emperor recalled that Elizabeth, “combining piety with the good of the fatherland and wisely distinguishing the abuses and prejudices that had crept in from the direct dogmas of the faith and the true foundations of the Orthodox Eastern Church, deemed it necessary to free those monastics who had renounced this temporal life, to be freed from worldly and secular concerns; and consequently, being present in person at the conference held on September 30, 1757, she herself deigned to enact this legislation—so beneficial to the entire state—regarding the administration of episcopal and monastic estates… But although His Imperial Majesty, having recently appeared in person before the Senate, commanded that the aforementioned legislation be immediately and jointly implemented with the Synod, nevertheless, both in view of the importance of this matter and so as not to waste time again in fruitless… deliberations and correspondence, We have decided to hereby more precisely command our Senate that the aforementioned decree of Her Majesty Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, announced through extracts from the minutes of the Conference to the Synod and the Senate on October 6 of the same year, be put into effect as soon as possible, in accordance with the exact and direct content of the aforementioned extracts, without any omissions”[806] . A new decree dated March 21, 1762 made the decision regarding church lands “public knowledge” and reestablished the Collegium of Economy [807] . Ecclesiastical authorities and their clergy were relieved of their duties regarding the administration of estates, which was transferred to state officials from among senior and staff officers (Art. 1). The per capita tax on peasants living on church lands was raised to one ruble sup[808] . As compensation, the peasants were granted full use of the arable land that they had previously cultivated for the benefit of the owners of church estates. Land parcels, mills, fishing grounds, and the like, leased by church institutions, remained in the hands of the tenants. The ruble tax and rent were paid into the treasury of the Board of Economy (Art. 2), which was required to use these funds to pay the salaries for the maintenance of church institutions and monasteries in accordance with the 1724 staffing tables. Monasteries and diocesan administrations retained their rights to use forests, pastures, and fishing grounds within boundaries to be established by agreement with the Board of Economy (Article 3). Landless monasteries that did not receive state subsidies retained their previous economic basis for existence, such as fishing, garden plots, etc. Monasteries that received a state subsidy—the “ruga”—were to continue receiving it (Article 4).

The episcopal sees of Pskov, Novgorod, and St. Petersburg	5,000 rubles each per year
Other sees	3,000
Seminaries in all dioceses	78,000
Allowance for three bishops—members of the Holy Synod	2,000 each
The remaining members of the Holy Synod and others—in accordance with the 1724 staffing tables:
Archimandrites of 10 stauropegial monasteries	500 each (previously—100 rubles and grain)
Abbots of 2nd-class monasteries	200 each
Abbots of 3rd-class monasteries	150 each

Article 5 directs that monasteries be divided into three classes and specifies the corresponding stipends for monks and amounts for church needs.

All legal proceedings concerning peasant offenses against ecclesiastical authorities were discontinued, with the exception of criminal offenses. This amnesty brought the emperor great popularity and served as the basis for later legends about “Tsar Peter Fedorovich”; the memory of it lived on among the people right up to the time of the Pugachev Rebellion and even later. The decree regarding the placement of disabled persons in monasteries was reaffirmed. Another decree (dated April 6, 1762) indicates that in January of that same year, 1,358 retired officers and soldiers were living in monasteries, and their upkeep cost 12,464 rubles and 3,333 chetverti of grain [809] . Article 7 established a bonus for officers managing church estates, amounting to one-tenth of the increase in revenue, for successful stewardship. A supplementary decree dated April 6, concerning the organization of the Board of Economy and the management of estates, ordered that managing officers be paid their full officer’s salaries and required them to conduct an inventory of the estates as quickly as possible [810] .

Peter III’s decrees signified complete secularization, although this is usually associated only with Catherine II’s decree of 1764. Catherine preserved the foundation laid by Peter III, changing only the details. The higher clergy were, of course, dissatisfied with the reform, persistently invoking the traditional rights of the Church—that is, their own privileges. But later historians, too, in many respects spoke negatively of the reform . Generally speaking, the hierarchs had no reason to complain: government stipends were generous, and as a result, most dioceses received more than their previous revenues had provided. Only a few sees—such as those of Novgorod, Rostov, or Kazan, which owned wealthy estates in densely populated areas—suffered losses. In addition, the bishops’ offices were able to dismiss a large portion of their staff, which had now become excessively numerous. Monasteries grew poorer, but this, too, was a positive aspect of the reform. The long period of the secularization of monasticism could now be formally considered over. Along with the reform, which freed the monasteries from the heavy burden of economic concerns, came the opportunity to organize monastic life in accordance with monastic rules. Some historians criticize the government for the fact that the reform was not sufficiently thought through and not all of its consequences were foreseen. But name any reforms that are free of such shortcomings, especially in the 18th century! However, A. Zavyalov softens his judgment when, while calling the reform unjust, he immediately states: “It does not take particular foresight to foresee the direct benefit of the reforms for certain institutions”[811] . In reality, from the Church’s perspective, the reform was long overdue and benefited all of the Church’s institutions. The state gave the Church the opportunity to renew itself internally. Unfortunately, the hierarchy hardly took advantage of this opportunity, but the responsibility for this lies with the Church itself.

c) In both of Catherine II’s manifestos (dated June 28 and July 7, 1762), Peter III was accused of hostile actions against the Orthodox faith and the Church (see § 8). Knowing from experience that a change in government often entails changes in the system of administration, the clergy could now expect the repeal of Peter III’s decrees regarding church estates. However, these hopes were dashed when, in July of that same year, Catherine instructed the Senate to examine how the clergy’s livelihood could be secured. In its report, the Senate proposed returning the Church’s lands to it, maintaining the per capita tax on peasants at one ruble, and transferring half of the tax revenue to the state treasury for the support of the disabled. At a joint conference of the Senate and the Synod, the Great Russian bishops—Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov of Novgorod and Bishop Palladius Yuryev of Ryazan—announced their agreement with the Senate’s proposal, whereas the Little Russians—Bishop Afanasy Volkhovsky of Tver, Bishop Gedeon Krinovsky of Pskov, and Archbishop Veniamin Putshek-Grigorovich of St. Petersburg—spoke out strongly against it. Athanasius demanded a return to the situation that had existed prior to 1760—that is, the Church’s free ownership of its estates in exchange for the payment of 300,000 rubles to the state from church funds. The Little Russians were extremely reluctant to endorse the proposal by the presiding member of the Synod, Dimitri Sechenov, to entrust a mixed commission of secular and ecclesiastical officials with examining the issue of church estates [812] . This proposal played right into the Empress’s hands. What could have been more advantageous for her than a proposal originating from the Holy Synod itself to convene a commission whose composition was entirely within her power? The first result was the manifesto of August 12, 1762, which was a document characteristic of Catherine’s sober and calculating nature. The manifesto again begins with reproaches directed at her predecessor and husband for his allegedly harmful decrees: “Among these, We consider the removal of villages and other estates from the jurisdiction of the clergy to be particularly regrettable, as it was carried out without any prior procedure or review. It seems the sole purpose was to deprive the clergy of their estates, while no thought was given to taking prudent measures to ensure a proper administration—one that would be harmless to both the Church and the clergy and beneficial to the fatherland.” The manifesto emphasizes that church estates provide for the clergy so that they may fulfill their duties in accordance with God’s commandments and the rules of the holy fathers. At the same time, the manifesto also contains a rebuke of the clergy as a logical transition to what follows: “It is not without surprise that we see from ancient Russian histories that many members of the clergy so often failed to follow those salvific laws that some of Our ancestors were compelled… to prescribe for them, in the administration of church estates, supplementary regulations serving to improve order and discipline, and to require them to render accounts regarding their implementation.” Among the clergy’s misdeeds, the Empress lists the protracted transition to a fixed-staff system: “Since We have already made it known to all Our people that it was not the acquisition of treasures or Our own enrichment, but true love for the fatherland that compelled Us to take upon Ourselves the burden of governing this vast empire, We can say with even greater certainty that Our thoughts and heart are entirely removed from Our own self-interest in the work of God. We have neither the intention nor the desire to appropriate church estates for ourselves, but We do have the authority to enact laws regarding their best use for the glory of God and the benefit of the fatherland. And to that end, under God’s protection, We intend to bring the organization of the entire clergy to perfection, in accordance with ecclesiastical regulations, which were also followed by Our most beloved grandfather, Emperor Peter the Great, by establishing for this purpose a special commission composed of ecclesiastical and secular persons under Our own supervision.” Thereafter, pending the commission’s decision, the manifesto prescribed the following preliminary measures: 1) to return estates to the clergy; 2) to abolish the Board of Economy and terminate the administration of church estates by officers; 3) to levy a poll tax of one ruble or in other amounts in accordance with local conditions and needs; 4) to set aside funds from the revenues for the maintenance of church institutions, while requiring church communities to keep expenditure ledgers; 5) to require the ecclesiastical authorities to treat the peasants with moderation [813] . By a decree dated November 29, a Commission on Church Estates was established, which was instructed—with reference to Peter the Great and the “Spiritual Regulations”—to first and foremost conduct a precise inventory of church estates. Special instructions regulated the composition and work of the commission [814] . Along with five secular members, it included Archbishop Dimitri Sechenov of Novgorod, Archbishop Gabriel Kremenetsky of St. Petersburg, and Bishop Sylvester Starogorodsky of Pereyaslavl-Zalessky [815] .

The commission began its work on December 2, 1762. Initially, it was tasked with discussing the consequences of the provisional measures for the administration of church estates, proclaimed in Catherine II’s manifesto [816] . The temporary return of the estates to church administration evidently served as a catalyst for peasant unrest, which Catherine had not anticipated. The peasants’ aversion to church administration was so great that they refused to pay taxes [817] . This turn of events demonstrated to the government and the commission that the direct administration of church estates should once again be entrusted to a special state body. Therefore, by decree of May 12, 1763, the Collegium for the Management of Ecclesiastical Estates was established, which existed until June 2, 1786 [818] . It soon became clear that the state was using the revenues from church estates not for their originally designated purposes, but for public education and other state needs. Moreover, the composition of the land fund itself did not remain unchanged, as the Empress distributed part of it to her favorites. De facto, church estates and the income from them became part of state property [819] .

The decree of February 26, 1764, together with the transition of church institutions to a budgetary system, put an end to the long-standing dispute between the state and the Church and transferred all church estates—comprising 910,866 tax-paying peasants—to the jurisdiction of the Board of Economy [820] . The decree also established the staffing levels for bishops’ residences, as well as for all churches and monasteries that had previously owned land. Regarding landless or land-poor monasteries and churches, whose status remained unchanged for the time being, decisions were to be made as information about them became available from the diocesan bishops. All 26 dioceses were divided into three classes (tiers): the first class comprised 3 dioceses, the second 8, and the third 15 [821]^{. A total of 149,586 rubles per year was allocated for the maintenance of the sees}[822]^{(. Each diocesan administration had at its disposal orchards, pastures, and fishponds; they were required to maintain almshouses. The list also included 225 monasteries, subdivided into three classes; 174,750 rubles were allocated for 158 men’s monasteries, and 33,000 rubles for 67 women’s monasteries.)}[823]^{Additional allocations for 161 landless monasteries, established by decree on March 31, 1764, brought their total number to 386. Monasteries not included in the staffing quotas were closed}[824]^{. The Empress took an active part in the commission’s work until the issue was finally resolved, demanding constant reports on the progress of affairs}[825]^.

The secularization of 1764 did not extend to Ukraine. In the Kiev, Chernigov, and Novgorod-Seversky provinces, it took place only by decree of April 10, 1786, and in the Kharkiv, Yekaterinoslav, Kursk, and Voronezh provinces—by decree of April 25, 1788. The dioceses annexed after the Partitions of Poland in 1772 and 1793 were not subject to the secularization of church lands until the 19th century.[826]

The Metropolitan of Novgorod and the Archbishop of St. Petersburg, as members of the commission, managed to look out for their own dioceses. The monetary allowance allocated to them was disproportionately large, especially compared to the Moscow Diocese, where it was half that of the St. Petersburg Diocese; however, in the 19th century, the Moscow See was able to cover this difference through the revenues of monasteries that had recently regained their wealth. As a result, “without going into specifics, it would be fair to say that the church property reform of 1764 was by no means disadvantageous for diocesan institutions”[827] . The reform also altered the boundaries of the dioceses. New dioceses established in the second half of the 18th century, as well as vicariates created within certain dioceses, were immediately incorporated into the administrative structure. At first, the reform had a rather drastic impact on the monasteries’ financial situation: they began to grow poorer and many closed, but soon some of them were reopened. In the 19th century, the monasteries’ prosperity began to grow again thanks to income from pilgrims and donations. Some monasteries even began to profitably invest their capital in houses and other real estate [828] .

Under the 1764 reform, lands supporting 35,003 peasants were confiscated from cathedrals and certain other churches. Staff quotas were established for all cathedral churches, although only 8 of them owned land. The remaining 516 churches that held estates derived so little income from them that the annual compensation of 50 rubles was actually beneficial to them. Later, churches were allocated small plots of land of up to 33 desyatinas [829] .

The Holy Synod’s staffing levels were established based on those of 1738, although at that time the Synod consisted of four bishops, three archimandrites, and two archpriests; but now the staffing included three bishops, two archimandrites, and one archpriest with the following salaries: the presiding bishop—2,000 rubles; the other two—1,500 rubles each; the archimandrites—1,000 rubles each; and the archpriest—600 rubles. Including the expenses for the Synodal Chancery and other Synodal bodies, the budget of the Holy Synod amounted to 25,082 rubles and 14 kopecks. In that same year, 1764, the members of the Holy Synod had already been granted allowances [830] .

Now that the members of the Synod and the clergy in general had been equated with state officials, the nationalization of the Church, begun by Peter I, was finally complete. Church estates guaranteed the Church at least some degree of independence, and this partly explains the ferocity with which the Church fought to retain them. For a time, the state claimed the right to manage and use the estates, but did not question the Church’s right of ownership. The Church’s right to acquire and hold property was never disputed. From 1764 through the 20th century, the state consistently recognized this right, excluding only the possibility of the Church owning vast tracts of inhabited land [831] .

d) Under the 1764 reform, populated lands were taken away from the Church, leaving it only with small unpopulated plots of land for gardens and pastures, as well as limited fishing rights. A decree by Paul I dated December 18, 1797, increased the land allotments for bishoprics to 60 desiatinas and for monasteries to 15 desiatinas. However, on April 8, 1800, both were prohibited from submitting petitions for additional land allocations [832] . Alexander I, by a decree dated June 8, 1805, permitted church institutions to acquire uninhabited lands, provided they obtained special permission for each individual case [833] . Beginning on January 4, 1819, this right, previously granted to bishops and monasteries, was extended to churches as well. From that time on, church institutions began acquiring urban houses and plots of land, which, as land prices rose, generated significant income. All of this led to their eventual transformation back into major landowners. Furthermore, under decrees issued in 1808, 1811, and 1821, church-owned land enjoyed tax privileges and was exempt from military quartering. In 1835, Nicholas I permitted monasteries to acquire plots of land ranging from 100 to 150 desyatinas, expanded their fishing rights, and approved financial assistance in cases where no suitable land was available for purchase. Furthermore, under a decree of 1838, monasteries were permitted to own forest lands of up to 150 desyatinas, although in practice this limit was consistently exceeded. For example, in 1858, the Trinity-Sergius Lavra received an additional 1,250 desyatinas of forest land on top of what it already owned. It has been estimated that from 1836 to 1861, approximately 170 monasteries received about 15,000 desyatinas of forest and about 10,000 desyatinas of arable land from the state; however, the monasteries also purchased plots of land in cities on their own and received land through donations and bequests [834] —all of which together resulted in an increase in the monasteries’ land holdings by many thousands of desyatinas.

In the 18th century, secularization did not affect the western provinces: Vitebsk, Grodno, Mogilev, Vilna, and Minsk; the Białystok region; as well as Podolia, Volhynia, and the Kyiv region. It was carried out here by a decree dated December 25, 1841. First, the lands of the archbishops’ estates and monasteries were confiscated, and then, by a decree dated May 10, 1843, the lands of the parishes were also confiscated [835] . In 1842, staffing levels were established for 36 male and female monasteries in these provinces. Their estates and income-generating enterprises became the property of the state [836] . The same occurred, pursuant to a decree of November 5, 1852, in the monasteries of Georgia, although secularization was not fully completed there until 1880. Thus, the complete conclusion of secularization can be dated to that very year [837] .

By the mid-19th century, the monasteries once again possessed large tracts of arable land and forests, as well as capital invested in urban real estate. Fascinating memoirs by Archimandrite Pimen Myasnikov, abbot of the Nikolo-Ugresh Monastery in the Moscow Diocese, attest that the monasteries already had well-developed agricultural operations and new stone buildings on their own land. The author describes the founding of new monasteries, which, immediately upon opening, received up to 150 desyatinas of arable land from the state [838] . Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov, in his “Chronicle,” also reports on numerous land donations to monasteries in the three dioceses under his jurisdiction—Polotsk (1866–1874), Kharkiv (1874–1879), and Tver (1879–1896)[839] . The 1857 Code of Laws authorized the acquisition of land by monasteries, as well as the automatic allocation of land by the state, and established certain tax privileges for monastic landholdings [840] .

Based on data from the Central Statistical Committee for 1890, the following table can be compiled:

Land holdings of parish churches in the European part of Russia:

Arable land	1,164,273 desyatinas
Meadows	234,257
Forest	195,478
Undivided hunting grounds	92,550
Unproductive land, wasteland	143,808
Total	1,686,558
Total in the Caucasus	78,893
In the Asian part of Russia	104,492
Total	1,896,943
Of which, unproductive land and wasteland	154,366

These church lands consisted of plots allocated by the state to parish clergy beginning in 1764.

Land holdings of monasteries and bishops’ residences in the European part of Russia:

Arable land	122,382 desyatinas
Meadows	70,601
Forest	230,670
Undivided hunting grounds	28,308
Unproductive land, wasteland	69,839
Total	451,971
Total in the Caucasus	24,297
Total in the Asian part of Russia	20,040
Total	496,308
Of this, uncultivable land and wasteland	75,900

The total area of church-owned land was 2,360,251 desyatinas, of which 230,266 desyatinas were unproductive wasteland. For comparison, here is a similar table for other types of land:

Land allocated to peasants	98,452,000 desyatinas
Peasant land in private ownership	5,005,000
Land owned by the nobility	73,163,700
Merchant-owned land	9,794,000
State-owned lands	155,410,000

In the second half of the 19th century, many peasants joined the merchant class. State-owned lands included large tracts of unusable wasteland.

Church lands were valued at 116,195,000 rubles, and church revenues from the agricultural sector totaled 9,030,000 rubles. The corresponding figures for monastic lands were 26,595,000 and 1,207,813 rubles.[841] Only incomplete data is available for the last three decades prior to 1914. Official statistics from 1905 recorded 1,872,000 desyatinas of land owned by parishes and 740,000 desyatinas owned by bishoprics and monasteries across 50 governorates in the European part of Russia.

In 1906, N. D. Kuznetsov presented a report to the Fourth Section of the Pre-Council Assembly proposing that the planned agrarian reform be carried out without expropriating church-owned land and that monasteries be allowed to retain their lands, since only in this way would they be able to fulfill their functions [842] . The author argued that canonical rules do not prohibit the ownership of land and continued: “At present, not only is it impossible to expropriate immovable church property for any purpose whatsoever, but this property should be increased in the interest of more securely providing the Orthodox Church in Russia with the necessary means for its purposes, which it currently lacks. To this day, not all churches have been granted the amount of land allotted to them by law, and therefore care must be taken at least to make up for the shortfall… Church property, with regard to its protection in court, should enjoy the same rights as state property”[843] . The department expressed its agreement with this report.

Ultimately, the government’s policy regarding church estates led to the following outcome: after expropriating church land holdings and assuming the obligation to support the Church, the state—as had already happened in Muscovite Russia—found itself compelled, due to a lack of sufficient funds, to once again turn to its land fund and allocate a portion of it for the support of the Church. This process had already begun during the land survey and the significant land grants to parish clergy under Catherine II. A solution to the problem of supporting the parish clergy—one that could free the state from the need for such grants—should have been sought in the improvement of church-community structures with their self-imposed taxation. However, efforts in this direction were undesirable to the Holy Synod and were not welcomed by it.

In the public consciousness, monastic land ownership did not raise doubts or protests. Those who approached the issue from the perspective of the Church and the ideal of monasticism viewed it quite differently. In the aforementioned report, N. D. Kuznetsov attempted to prove that canonical rules do not prohibit monastic property [844] . However, the practice of monastic life in the 19th and 20th centuries clearly showed that the monks’ economic activities had a corrupting effect on the inner life of their cenobitic community. Only a few monasteries succeeded in organically integrating agricultural and commercial activities into the daily routine of monastic life.

Chapter III. Diocesan Administration

§ 11. Organization of Diocesan Administration

a) A characteristic feature of the entire Synodal period was that the number of dioceses failed to keep pace with the growth of the population and the territory of the state.

As early as the late 17th century, the Local Council of 1682, in accordance with the will of Tsar Fyodor Alekseevich, resolved to increase the number of dioceses. That same year, new dioceses were established in Kholmogory, Veliky Ustyug, Tambov, and Voronezh. By the time of the death of the last Patriarch, Adrian, there were 21[] dioceses in the country in addition to the Patriarchal District, of which 13 were administered by metropolitans, 7 by archbishops, and one by a bishop. The Local Council of 1682 could do no more due to a lack of funds [845] . Under the administration of the Holy Synod, the situation in this regard deteriorated. The first half of the 18th century was marked by an administrative crisis both at the central level and in the dioceses. Constant changes in the management of church estates had a devastating effect on the financial situation of the Holy Synod. At the same time, a harmful practice took root: instead of filling vacant bishoprics immediately, their administration was entrusted to the heads of neighboring dioceses. The Tambov Diocese was administered from Ryazan for 50 years. The same was true in Suzdal, Krutitsy, and elsewhere. The administration of the Krutitsy and Kolomna dioceses and the Synodal Region (formerly the Patriarchal Region, and later the Moscow Diocese) was made extremely difficult by the fact that their territories were not contiguous but were interspersed with the territories of other dioceses. Diocesan boundaries rarely corresponded to the state’s administrative divisions, and this widespread inconsistency hindered full coordination between state and church authorities. Having developed under different historical conditions, the dioceses differed significantly from one another in both size and the number of parishes. In the 1730s and 1740s, the Tobolsk Diocese covered 300,000 square miles with 160 parishes, stretching from the Urals to the Lena River and from the Arctic Ocean to the border with China. In the Synodal Region, by 1744, there were 5,000 churches and 200 monasteries. The smaller dioceses of Rostov, Suzdal, Tver, Krutitsy, and Kolomna had 760, 502, 456, 858, and 733 churches, respectively [846] . The European part of Russia consisted of a region with a compact Orthodox population, whereas in the Asian part of the country—which grew rapidly in the 18th and 19th centuries—Orthodox communities were scattered among the pagan population. This situation did not undergo significant changes even at the beginning of the 20th century: In 1903, the Kiev Diocese numbered 4 million, the Vyatka Diocese 3.5 million, the Podolia Diocese 3.25 million, and the Volhynia Diocese 3 million souls, while the Arkhangelsk Diocese had only 360,000, and the Olonets Diocese 370,000 [847] . According to decrees issued by Catherine II (1788), Paul I (1799), and Alexander I, the boundaries of dioceses were to be brought into alignment with the state’s administrative divisions: the territories of the dioceses were to coincide with those of the governorates. This principle remained in effect until 1917, although in Poland, the Transcaucasus, Siberia, and Turkestan it was not universally observed [848] . To facilitate the spiritual care of the people in the most populous dioceses, the Holy Synod established 70 vicariates; unfortunately, however, no regulations were drawn up regarding vicar bishops that would clearly define their scope of duties.

No state institution in Russia was as rigid and stubbornly conservative as the Holy Synod’s financial and property administration. Matters here proceeded of their own accord, according to their own spontaneous and historically established order, so that it never even occurred to anyone, for example, to redistribute the enormous sums flowing into the treasuries of the bishops of Moscow, Volhynia, Kyiv, and others, to aid poorer dioceses or to establish new sees. The notion that the Church was short of funds is true only with certain reservations. Wealth was concentrated in a few places, was not properly accounted for, and did not come under the control of the Holy Synod.

After the secularization of church estates in 1764 and the transition of existing dioceses to a salaried system, the process of establishing new dioceses accelerated somewhat. The following table illustrates the growth in the number of dioceses over two centuries:

1700 – 22 dioceses

1764 – 29 (including 3 in Little Russia[])

1799 – 36

1825 – 40 (including 4 within the Georgian Exarchate)

1855 – 55

1900 – 65 (including 1 in the United States)

1917 – 68

After Bishop Ignatius was exiled in 1700, Peter I ordered that the Tambov Diocese be placed under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Ryazan, and the following year he placed it under the administration of the Synodal District. In 1700, by order of the tsar, a diocese was established in the recently conquered city of Azov, which lasted only one year. In addition, in 1707, Peter ordered the creation of the Irkutsk vicariate under the Diocese of Tobolsk, and even earlier, in 1700, a vicar was appointed in Pereyaslavl to serve as coadjutor to the Metropolitan of Kyiv [849] ; this last vicariate was transformed into an independent diocese in 1731. In the same year, the Kholmogory Diocese was renamed the Arkhangelsk Diocese. Several new sees were established under Empress Elizabeth, most notably the St. Petersburg See (1742). Also in 1742, at the suggestion of Holy Synod members Ambrose Yushkevich and Arseny Maceevich, the Moscow Diocese was restored [850] . Under Catherine II, according to the 1764 regulations, all dioceses were divided into three tiers [851] , with 3 dioceses in the first tier, 8 in the second, and 15 in the third. Within the Moscow Diocese, the regulations provided for the creation of the Sevsk Vicariate, which, having existed until 1787–1788, subsequently became an independent diocese with its seat in Orel. By 1764, there were 29 dioceses in the empire, including the three Little Russian dioceses (Kyiv, Chernihiv, and Pereyaslav-Boryspil)[852] . Under Catherine II, another 9 dioceses were established. The Partitions of Poland led to the annexation of the Mogilev Diocese in 1772, and in 1795—the Bratslav, Podolia, and Minsk dioceses (the latter had been a vicariate of the Kiev Diocese until 1799)[853] . Further reforms of the diocesan system took place under Paul I, so that by the end of the century there were already 36 dioceses in the empire. During the reign of Alexander I, only one diocese was established in Russia proper—the Diocese of Kishinev in Bessarabia (1813). The Georgian Exarchate, which had 11 dioceses and 4 vicariates upon its incorporation into the Russian Empire, was reorganized (1811)[854] .

Emperor Nicholas I took a keen interest in the establishment of new dioceses and often took personal initiative in this matter. During his reign, 13 dioceses and 12 vicariates were established [855] . This trend continued into the second half of the century. In 1867, the division of dioceses by rank was abolished. The dioceses of St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Kyiv continued to be governed by metropolitans, while the rank of archbishop lost its connection to specific sees, becoming merely a mark of distinction. In 1867, new staffing levels were established [856] . After lengthy discussions—during which the positive opinion on this matter previously expressed by Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov played a role—the Diocese of the Aleutians and Alaska in the United States of America was finally established in 1870, with its episcopal residence in San Francisco [857] . In 1871, the Turkestan Diocese was established with its see in the city of Verny in the Semirechye Region; as the state’s territory expanded, this diocese grew to enormous proportions. Following the annexation of the Uniates in the Kholm Region, the Warsaw Diocese was renamed the Kholm and Warsaw Diocese in 1875. In 1892, the old Novgorod Diocese was restored and separated from the St. Petersburg Diocese; the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg came to be known as the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Finland, and from 1898 onward, as the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Ladoga. The second half of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th century saw the establishment of a number of new dioceses in Siberia and numerous vicariates (see Table 5)[858] .

b) The particular conservatism of church institutions also affected diocesan administration during the Synodal period. The changes that took place mainly concerned the systematization and legal codification of the practices governing the relationships of diocesan bishops with the Holy Synod, with subordinate clergy, with diocesan institutions, and with the faithful (which until then had largely been based on customary law). At the same time, there was a trend toward the expansion of state authority. In part, this codification took place during the compilation of the Code of Laws undertaken under Nicholas I. During the reign of Alexander II, reformist ideas also made themselves felt in this area, manifesting, for example, in the restriction of the rights of diocesan administrations with regard to the lower clergy; plans for radical reforms began to be discussed in society [859] .

The powers of a diocesan bishop did not depend on his rank—whether he was a metropolitan, archbishop, or bishop. He was responsible for the state of faith and morality, supervised the preaching and liturgical activities of the clergy, managed numerous institutions, and presided over the ecclesiastical court [860] . With regard to the higher-ranking Holy Synod, the bishop had the right to submit legislative and administrative proposals. He represented the interests of the Church before local government authorities, with whom he often experienced friction due to an unclear division of responsibilities [861] .

Toward the end of the synodal period, the diocesan administration consisted of: the diocesan bishop, sometimes with one or more vicars; a spiritual consistory serving as both a governing body and a court; a school board for parish schools; deans; theological educational institutions; educational and charitable institutions; periodic diocesan assemblies of the clergy; monasteries; the cathedral; and the bishop’s residence. Due to the bureaucratization of the state apparatus during the Synodal period, the administrative work of the diocesan administrations became increasingly complex. As a result of growing centralization, countless matters had to be reported to the Holy Synod, while a multitude of minor issues—which could easily have been resolved locally—were submitted to the bishops for consideration. Every day, a flood of circulars, decrees, and inquiries arrived from the Holy Synod, the Chief Prosecutor, or his office, which had to be read and required a response. As a result, the bishop found himself for the most part chained to his desk, which hindered his travels throughout the diocese [862] .

The legislative basis for the activities of the diocesan administrations consisted of: the rules of the Apostles, the decisions of the Ecumenical and Local Councils, the teachings of the Holy Fathers, the Kormchaya Kniga, as well as contemporary laws—the “Spiritual Regulations,” decrees of the Holy Synod, and state laws. On the basis of these laws and within the limits of his authority, the bishop had the right to issue decrees and orders, which, however, were subject to review by the Holy Synod and could be revoked by it. Such decrees reflected the bishop’s personal views and were therefore often revoked by his successors. “Whenever,” writes Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich of Kherson, “such a high-ranking official as a bishop is replaced, the spirit changes, and the direction of governance changes”[863] .

The authority of the bishops, which was nearly absolute in the 17th century, underwent certain restrictions during the synodal period within the framework of the state church. The Holy Synod intervened ever more actively in matters of diocesan administration; the chief prosecutors sought to turn consistories into branches of their own apparatus at the expense of the bishop’s authority, while the state regarded the clergy as its subjects, thereby limiting the scope of ecclesiastical laws. The main trend in state church policy from the 18th to the 20th centuries was the limitation of the bishops’ autocratic authority. One cannot help but marvel at the tenacious conservatism that enabled the episcopate, on the whole, to defend its position against the extremely powerful pressure of state authority; moreover, at times it even managed to strengthen its position [864] .

The “Spiritual Regulations” officially remained in force until the end of the synodal period. The second part of the document contains a special section devoted to “the affairs of bishops,” which includes 15 rules concerning the administration and inspection of dioceses, the treatment of subordinate clergy (who were not to be unduly burdened with taxes), the diocesan court, and the supervision of episcopal servants. This section emphasizes that bishops are subject to the jurisdiction of the Holy Synod (Rule 13). It prescribes the preparation of two annual reports on the state of the diocese, with urgent matters to be reported separately. In cases of doubt, the matter should be set forth in detail, leaving its resolution to the discretion of the Holy Synod. From 1721 to 1727, the Holy Synod even maintained a staff of inspectors to conduct audits and oversee the dioceses. Along with the “Spiritual Regulations,” the main governing documents for diocesan administrations were the decrees of the Holy Synod, which were often issued by special order of the emperor. The 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories contains precise instructions on the administration of consistories and regulates legal relations. Furthermore, the Charter states that the chief official of a consistory—its secretary—although appointed by the Holy Synod, is directly subordinate to the Ober-Procurator, to whom the secretary is accountable. Thus, the chief prosecutors had a strong and independent base of support within the diocesan administrations, separate from the bishop [865] . A particularly large number of decrees issued by the Holy Synod date from the reign of Nicholas I; these concerned not only specific cases but also fundamental issues of church administration [866] .

c) Beginning in the 18th century, episcopal vicars began to appear in the dioceses [867] . However, the first vicar is known to have served as early as 1685–1690 in the Novgorod Diocese, bearing the title of Korel and Ladoga. From 1700, a vicar served as coadjutor to the Metropolitan of Kyiv in Pereyaslavl, and from 1707 in Irkutsk, which belonged to the Diocese of Tobolsk. Subsequently, vicars were appointed on an ad hoc basis in various dioceses. In 1865, the Holy Synod received imperial permission to establish vicariates wherever funds were available. By 1917, there were already 70 vicars. In the 19th century, by tradition, and after the enactment of the 1911 Charter—by law—vicar bishops, who were titular bishops (i.e., did not have dioceses), were appointed as rectors of theological academies [868] .

The vicars were at the personal disposal of the bishop, to whom they were subordinate. The bishop assigned them tasks at his own discretion, since there were no regulations regarding the vicars’ jurisdiction; in rare cases, the vicar’s duties were specified by the Holy Synod at the time of appointment [869] . Only in a few dioceses did vicars have clearly defined duties. For example, the Velyko-Ustyuzhsky vicar of the Vologda Diocese ministered to a specific part of the diocese and exercised independent ecclesiastical administration. The Bishop of Sarapul, serving as vicar to the Bishop of Vyatka, also administered part of the diocese, exercising his own ecclesiastical administration. In the Diocese of Kholm and Warsaw (prior to the establishment of the Diocese of Lublin in 1905), the vicar of the Bishop of Warsaw resided in Kholm and exercised independent ecclesiastical authority. Thus, contrary to canonical rules, there were two independent bishops in each of these three dioceses [870] .

d) The Diocese of the Holy Synod, the so-called Synodal Region, as well as the Diocese of Kyiv in the 18th century and the Georgian Exarchate in the 19th–20th centuries, were distinguished by certain peculiarities in their administration.

The Synodal Region emerged from the Patriarchal Region. In 1701, the patriarchal residence and spiritual administration of the region’s population were transferred to the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne, Metropolitan Stephen of Yavor, while other branches of administration—primarily economic affairs—came under the jurisdiction of the restored Monastic Office. Following the establishment of the Holy Synod, Archimandrite Leonid, a counselor to the Synod, was consecrated as Archbishop of Krutitsy and entrusted with the administration of the diocese, which was now designated the Synodal Region. On October 16, 1738, Empress Anna, with the aim of collecting significant arrears, transferred the Synodal Region to the administration of the Board of Finance, leaving only ecclesiastical affairs under the jurisdiction of the Synodal Chancery. After the restoration in 1742 the Moscow Diocese was restored, the Synodal Chancellery was replaced by the Moscow Synodal Office, which was entrusted with the administration of the Holy Synod’s other properties. These properties consisted of the Synod building with its church and the Synodal sacristy, the cathedral in the Kremlin, and several monasteries. The region itself came under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Moscow. In 1884, the Cathedral of the Dormition was also transferred to the diocese. The Synodal Office’s responsibilities also included supervising visiting clergy in Moscow, as well as the consecration and distribution of holy oil. The Synodal Office was headed by the Metropolitan of Moscow or his senior vicar [871] .

The special privileges of the Kyiv Diocese stem from the circumstances surrounding Ukraine’s reunification with Russia (1654). After lengthy negotiations, the Metropolitan of Kyiv, Gedeon Svyatopolk-Chetvertynsky (1685–1690), agreed to come under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Moscow, who guaranteed him the following privileges: 1) The Metropolitan of Kyiv was recognized as the highest-ranking bishop after the Patriarch; 2) his rulings could not be appealed in the patriarchal court; 3) he was not required to travel to Moscow for festive divine services; 4) he had the right to wear a miter with a cross, two panagias, and a white cowl, and also the right to have the cross presented to him; 5) he was granted the title “Metropolitan of Kyiv and Galicia of Little Russia.” However, by the end of the century—and especially with the establishment of the Holy Synod—these privileges (item 2) began to be violated. In 1686, the Patriarch of Constantinople released the Metropolitan of Kyiv from his jurisdiction and definitively recognized his affiliation with the Moscow Patriarchate [872] . A smaller portion of the territory of the Kyiv Diocese was located on the right bank of the Dnieper, while the larger portion was on the left bank, covering roughly the later Chernihiv and Poltava governorates. In addition, there were a number of churches and monasteries on Polish territory that belonged to the Kyiv Metropolis and were referred to in 17th- and 18th-century documents as “overseas monasteries and communities.” Appointed in 1700 and residing in Pereyaslav, the vicar-coadjutor of the Bishop of Kyiv administered most of the diocese on the left bank of the Dnieper and soon expressed a desire for autonomy—that is, for direct subordination to the Holy Synod [873] . Beginning in 1743, the bishops of Kyiv were once again granted the rank of metropolitan[]. In 1751, Metropolitan Timofey Shcherbatsky (1748–1757) deemed it necessary to submit a petition to the Holy Synod requesting the restoration of all his privileges. However, the Holy Synod declared itself the highest authority in all matters of church administration and jurisdiction and, consequently, deprived the Metropolitan of Kyiv of the right, guaranteed to him by treaty, to issue final (i.e., unappealable) judgments. “Thus, by the middle of the 18th century, the Metropolitan of Kyiv had, in terms of his rights, definitively been reduced to the rank of an ordinary diocesan bishop”[874] . For “overseas” monasteries and churches—that is, those scattered across the vast territory of formerly existing dioceses (Pinsk and others)—the Slutsk Bishopric was established in 1785, reporting directly to the Holy Synod. Thus, these parts of the Kyiv Diocese were de facto separated from it [875] . From the time of Metropolitans Arsenius of Mohyla (1757–1770) and Gabriel of Kremenets (1770–1783), the Kyiv diocesan administration was gradually restructured according to the Great Russian model. This process was completed under Metropolitan Samuel Mislavsky (1783–1796)[876] . Under pressure from the government and the Holy Synod, even those special privileges (“liberties”) to which both the higher and lower clergy of Kyiv had so tenaciously clung gradually disappeared. In 1767–1768, the Holy Synod received from the Metropolitan of Kyiv, the Bishop of Pereyaslav, the clergy of the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra, and the Bishop of Chernihiv detailed “points” intended for the Commission tasked with drafting a new code of laws. These “points,” which primarily concerned the noble privileges of the Ukrainian clergy and church landholdings threatened by secularization, had no practical consequences, but they attest to the opposition encountered by the measures of the Holy Synod in this regard (see § 8)[877] .

In 1783, as a result of Georgia’s annexation to the Russian Empire, the Georgian Church was also placed under the authority of the Holy Synod, and its head, the Catholicos, was to become a permanent member of the Holy Synod. However, the process of incorporating the Georgian Church dragged on until 1811, and its division into dioceses was not completed until 1814. The Exarch received the title “Exarch of Georgia and Archbishop of Kartli,” and three Georgian dioceses were established with centers in Mtskheta, Telavi, and Signa; administration was in the hands of the Georgian-Imeretian Synodal Office, whose secretary was subordinate to the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. The bishops of the Exarchate had chancelleries at their disposal, which were linked to the Exarchate’s Synodal Office and, consequently, were controlled by it. Under Archbishop Theophylact Rusanov (1817–1821), an era of Russification began in the Exarchate, provoking fierce resistance from the clergy and the population. Theophilact’s successor was Ion Vasilevsky (1821–1832), one of the most active Russian bishops of the nineteenth century. He opposed the abuses of Russification and actively cared for the needs of the impoverished lower clergy, but subsequent exarchs once again turned out to be fanatical nationalists. Particularly notorious was the cruel Archbishop Pavel Lebedev (1882–1887), who, after a failed assassination attempt against him, fled to Kazan and, with the permission of the Chief Prosecutor, exchanged sees with the Archbishop of Kazan, Palladius Raev. The unrest that swept through the Exarchate in 1905–1907 created difficulties that Archbishop Nikon of Sofia was unable to overcome—on May 28, 1908, he was murdered. In 1917, the exarchate’s embittered clergy refused to participate in the All-Russian Local Council and to recognize Patriarch Tikhon. As a result, the exarchate separated from the Russian Church [878] .

d) The bodies subordinate to the bishops that carried out administrative and judicial functions bore various names: the Spiritual Office, the bishop’s household office, the chancery (at the bishop’s residence), or simply the bishop’s residence. Until 1764, their main task was to manage the lands that provided financial support for the diocesan administration. These institutions were headed by monks, referred to as judges or governors, who were appointed by the bishop. In practice, the collegial principle of conducting affairs was not observed everywhere. Over time, the central body of diocesan administration came to be known as the spiritual dicastery or consistory. The dicastery first appeared in the Synodal Region (1722), followed by the establishment of consistories in the dioceses of Novgorod (1725), Astrakhan, Nizhny Novgorod, Pskov, and Tambov (1730), in Suzdal and Tobolsk (1731), and in Irkutsk (1732). In 1744, a decree was issued establishing consistories in all dioceses. These were central bodies whose responsibilities, alongside other tasks, included religious education until 1809 [879] . Subordinate to them were the so-called ecclesiastical councils, which operated in some dioceses as district bodies. These councils were not included in the official staffing tables and were supported by the parish clergy; they existed until 1840. According to a decree of 1768, not only monastics but also parish clergy were to be represented in the consistories and councils. Due to noncompliance with this requirement, the decree was reiterated in 1797. Even earlier, Catherine II had ordered that lay persons be employed as secretaries and clerical staff [880] . At the beginning of the 19th century, Chief Prosecutor Yakovlev’s proposal to place the consistories directly under the authority of the Chief Prosecutor met with resistance from Metropolitan Amvrosy Podobedov of St. Petersburg, who viewed this as a curtailment of the bishops’ canonical rights [881] .

The year 1841 marked a turning point in the history of diocesan administration. A new era began with the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, which was submitted for the tsar’s approval by Chief Prosecutor Count N. A. Protasov. Thanks to the Charter, diocesan administrations throughout the empire were given a unified legal framework [882] . Under the direct supervision of the diocesan bishop, the consistory carried out administrative and judicial functions. The highest authority for the consistory was the Holy Synod. The consistory consisted of a council (whose members were appointed by the bishop from among the white and black clergy, confirmed, and, if necessary, dismissed by the Holy Synod [883] ) and a chancery. Each member of the Presidium was responsible for a specific area of business—that is, in the bureaucratic language of the time, had his own “desk”—but decisions were made at joint meetings. The Chancellery was headed by a secretary, who was appointed by the Holy Synod upon the recommendation of the Ober-Procurator. Formally, the secretary reported to the bishop, but at the same time was obliged to carry out the instructions of the Chief Prosecutor, who thus exercised control over the consistory’s key body. The Charter defined the consistory’s administrative tasks as follows: 1) appointments to church offices; 2) reports and evaluations of candidates; 3) tonsures in the diocese’s monasteries; 4) oversight of the maintenance of church records (registers, etc.); 5) administration of the bishop’s residence, its property, as well as the administration of monasteries and churches. The jurisdiction of the consistories extended to both the clergy and the laity. With the exception of those crimes which, according to the Code of Laws, were subject to civil court, the consistory’s jurisdiction included misconduct by the clergy in the performance of their duties, as well as offenses against morality and ecclesiastical order. Cases involving church property, as well as complaints by both clergy and laity against clergy members, fell under the jurisdiction of the consistory. Decisions were made collegially at joint meetings and submitted, along with the minutes, to the bishop. The bishop could refer the case back to the consistory. If differences of opinion persisted, the final decision rested with the bishop [884] . From the second half of the 19th century onward, bishops found themselves increasingly overburdened with consistorial matters. “Even with my glasses, my eyes are often not up to the task in this age of paperwork,” complained Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov, like many of his colleagues, in his memoirs [885] .

In 1869, a new budget (staffing) for the ecclesiastical consistories was approved, and in 1883, a new Charter of the Consistories was issued, which, however, differed little from the previous one [886] . In Georgia, the consistories were called diocesan chancelleries, and in the Aleut Diocese, they were known as the ecclesiastical administration. In addition, vicars in Veliky Ustyug, Lublin, Chełm, Sarapul, and Vyborg (prior to the establishment of the Diocese of Finland) had ecclesiastical councils [887] .

e) Prior to the establishment of consistories, so-called administrators and judges of the bishops’ courts served under the diocesan bishops; they presided over legal cases not only in the diocesan center but sometimes also in other cities within the diocese. In the early years of the Synodal period, the Holy Synod employed so-called “stryapchi”—specialists in clerical affairs and the financial status of the dioceses. In the 18th century, candidates for church offices were evaluated by examiners drawn from among learned monks, who often also served as bishops’ secretaries and, in this role, became indispensable. The secretary was a trusted confidant and a liaison with other administrative bodies [888] . Prior to secularization, dioceses also had stewards with a full staff of employees to manage the estates. Finally, the bishop’s household also included the singers of the cathedral choir, which consisted of adults and students and accompanied the bishop during his tours of the diocese. The “Spiritual Regulations” contain precise instructions regarding the bishop’s supervision of the conduct of this retinue, the maintenance of which was often a financial burden for the church communities he visited [889] .

In the 17th century and later, parish elders served as tax collectors; this office was abolished only in 1764. Alongside them, the task of administrative oversight of the clergy (until 1764) was carried out by “zakazchiki,” whose presence was mandatory under a decree of the Holy Synod from 1737. Their assistants were the “desyatelniki,” who collected taxes from the clergy in the so-called “desyatinas”—smaller ecclesiastical-administrative subdivisions of the dioceses. Beginning with the reign of Empress Elizabeth, the “zakazchiki” came to be called “blagochinnye”—a term that had only recently come into use in diocesan chancelleries, although it had already appeared in Patriarch Adrian’s 1698 “Instructions to Parish Elders” and in the “Spiritual Regulations” ([890] ).

Deanery superintendents appointed by the bishop received instructions from him. In 1745, instructions were issued for the Voronezh Diocese; then, in 1751, instructions were issued by Archbishop Platon Malinovsky of Moscow (1748–1755); and in 1760 and 1764, instructions were issued for the Tver Diocese. In 1775, Archbishop (later Metropolitan) Platon Levshin of Moscow published his “Instructions to the Deanery Heads of Parish Churches,” which the Holy Synod declared mandatory for all dioceses. In 1857, it was revised and expanded, and in 1892, a new edition was published. According to the 1841 Statute of Consistories, the appointment of deans was a matter “at the discretion of the diocesan bishop” (Article 67 in the 1841 edition and Article 63 in the 1883 edition). Dioceses were divided into deaneries, each comprising 10–30 parishes. In the 1860s, the practice of electing deans by the clergy had become established, but a decree of the Holy Synod in 1881 abolished it. Reform plans discussed in the press in 1905–1906 called for the reinstatement of the election of deanery superintendents, but they had no practical results [891] . Deanery superintendents oversaw the moral conduct of the clergy, the management of church property, and church records, and were required to visit the churches in their district twice a year. They had the authority to settle minor matters independently and to impose church penalties for minor offenses. They were required to submit detailed reports on the results of their visits to the bishop. There were no specific regulations regarding compensation for this service; it was usually paid for out of deductions from the clergy’s income. In the 1860s, deanery councils began to emerge. The first to convene a meeting ( ) of the deans of his diocese in 1865 to discuss issues of religious education and morality was Archbishop Mikhail Golubovich of Minsk (1848–1868). Bishops from other dioceses followed his example. After the publication in 1867 of the Statutes of Ecclesiastical Schools and Seminaries, the agendas of such meetings also began to include educational matters, the election of delegates to district and diocesan school congresses, and the raising of funds for educational institutions. By the early 1880s, these meetings had been discontinued in some places, while in others they were limited to the discussion of administrative issues [892] .

It is worth noting that as early as the beginning of the 18th century, the Metropolitan of Tobolsk, Philotheus Leshchinsky, had experimented with gatherings of this kind. Unable to personally visit all the churches in his vast diocese, he convened a church assembly in 1702, at which a set of instructions for the parish clergy, consisting of 51 articles, was adopted. It addressed pastoral activities, deans, the sacrament of confession, the conduct of clergy, and other matters. This initiative found no followers either in Tobolsk itself or anywhere else [893] . By a decree of 1797, bishops were required to appoint deans from among the abbots of the diocese’s monasteries to oversee them. In 1828, they received special instructions from the Holy Synod [894] .

The year 1865 was marked by the establishment of diocesan audit committees to review the financial reports of consistories, theological institutions, parish schools, brotherhoods, and boards of trustees (which were not subject to state oversight). The committees consisted of three members appointed by the bishop from among the parish clergy and teachers at educational institutions [895] . In 1823, based on a plan developed by Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov and approved by the emperor, diocesan boards of trustees were organized to care for the poor who did not hold ecclesiastical office [896] . At the diocesan and district assemblies of the clergy convened in the late 1860s, issues related to the clergy’s social status—such as mutual aid, pension funds, and fundraising for charitable funds—were discussed alongside school-related matters [897] The development of parish schools led to the creation of diocesan school councils [898] . It is also worth mentioning the official “Diocesan Gazette,” which began to be published in the dioceses in the 1860s. From the mid-19th century onward, brotherhoods were organized, as well as ecclesiastical-archaeological and ecclesiastical-historical societies, which began publishing ecclesiastical-statistical descriptions of certain dioceses [899] .

g) The center of diocesan administration and the residence of the bishop, his retinue, and his servants was the bishop’s residence, from which, until 1764, the estates and all movable and immovable property of the diocese were administered. The staff of this administration, usually quite numerous, was appointed and paid at the bishop’s discretion and depending on his financial resources [900] . Thus, by the beginning of the 18th century, the staff of the Rostov bishop’s residence numbered 498 people, that of the Tver residence—240, and that of the Krutitsy residence—151. As church estates were gradually transferred to state control, the number of episcopal servants declined in the first half of the 18th century. And yet, in 1742, the Bishop’s House in Rostov, with an annual income of 8,000 rubles, employed 300 people, including the clergy of six churches (73 people). Typically, these numbers ranged from 30 to 135 people [901] . Revenues consisted of the farm tax levied on peasants in the bishop’s estates and taxes on the clergy [902] . After the establishment of the Monastic Office, and later the Board of Finance, the farm tax—minus deductions for the maintenance of the bishop’s residence—began to be remitted to these institutions. There were heated debates regarding the size of these deductions from the early 18th century until 1764. In 1707, for 15 dioceses, they were set at between 1,000 and 1,500 rubles. The issue of establishing fixed salaries for bishops’ residences was already on the agenda of the Holy Synod as early as 1724, but it was not finally resolved until 1764, following a temporary provisional settlement under Peter III. Following the secularization of 1764, 26 episcopal houses in Great Russia received fixed salaries. Among them, Novgorod was allocated over 11,000 rubles, Moscow—7,500 rubles, and St. Petersburg—15,000 rubles; all three dioceses belonged to the first class. Bishopric estates of the second class received 5,500 rubles each, and those of the third class, 3,232 rubles each. Soon, increases were made to these budgets [903] . It was now possible to reduce the number of staff, as the need to maintain the administrative apparatus for managing the estates had disappeared. Nevertheless, some economic functions remained with the bishop’s residences, as they continued to own meadows, mills, and so on. In subsequent years, state legislation granted the bishops’ estates the right to own uninhabited lands (arable land), houses, and so on. Legislative regulation of the issue of church land ownership was undertaken in Volume 9 of the Code of Laws and in some later laws. The 1883 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories contained instructions for bishops to manage their estates through stewards. This provided a legal basis for purchasing income-generating properties and acquiring their own episcopal residences in St. Petersburg and Moscow, where the bishop would stay when summoned to the Holy Synod or under other circumstances [904] .

In 1867, the division of dioceses into ranks was abolished, and salaries were increased. In doing so, local conditions—which varied greatly from one place to another—were taken into account. The standard salary for episcopal residences ranged from 3,110 to 4,300 rubles (with the exception of capital cities, where it amounted to 5,000 rubles), while the standard salary for cathedrals ranged from 400 to 700 rubles.[905] For example, in 1879, Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov of Tver received, in addition to his personal allowance, a fixed salary of 3,200 rubles, of which 1,200 rubles went toward staff salaries, and the remainder toward other needs. The staff of the bishop’s residence included: a steward, a treasurer, two hieromonks, a hierodeacon, a psalm reader, a cell attendant, and a church choir of 27 singers. The bishop’s residence’s own income from land holdings provided an additional 10,481 rubles 35 kopecks.[906] At the same time, the Tver Diocese was not among the wealthiest. The revenues of the St. Petersburg, Moscow, or Volyn dioceses were much greater. According to the memoirs of Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky, the Pochaev Lavra alone brought the bishop 25,000 rubles in income in 1913–1914. In 1903, the standard salaries for nine episcopal residences were raised to 22,500 rubles. The Holy Synod’s 1909 budget for the maintenance of 75 bishops allocated a total of 200,768 rubles. In 1911, expenditures on episcopal residences (including cathedrals and bishops’ salaries) totaled 939,302 rubles, and in 1916—937,472 rubles. Beginning in 1909, members of the Holy Synod received an additional 7,148 rubles per year [907] .

g) The lowest level in the diocesan structure was formed by parish communities, or church parishes. The intermediate links between them and the bishop were parish elders, parish trustees, deaneries, and spiritual councils. The number of parishes was of great importance to the bishop’s household from a tax perspective. In some dioceses, parishes were concentrated within a small area; in others, they were scattered far apart due to the size of the dioceses or the presence of a mixed population of different faiths. The number of parishes in dioceses fluctuated greatly. For many bishops, touring their dioceses was extremely difficult, and at times, due to inadequate means of transportation, nearly impossible. It was not until the 19th century, with the improvement of transportation, that the bishops’ interest in the parishes began to grow. However, new obstacles now arose—the frequent transfers of bishops from one see to another.

The classification of churches into cathedrals, city cathedrals (in county seats), parish churches, and house churches was inherited from the 17th century. Financially, cathedrals belonged to the bishops’ households, but in most cases, city cathedrals also lacked their own congregations. City cathedrals and some other urban churches received a “ruga,” that is, a state subsidy or financial support from the diocesan bishop, who allocated a portion of his income to support the clergy. In addition, a number of city cathedrals and churches owned land. In the 18th and especially the 19th centuries, many churches were established that did not have their own parishes—at institutions, educational establishments, and in the military. All of them, except for those in the military, were subordinate to the diocesan bishop but were self-supporting. Finally, there were altarless chapels and houses of prayer that served as temporary churches [908] . The following table shows the growth in the number of churches:

In 1722, there were a total of 15,751 churches

1737: about 18,000

1762: 19,813

1799: 26,196

1825: 27,585 (including chapels)

1855: 48,318

1907 71,526

1912 76,394 [909]

1914 66,908 (not all dioceses included)

During the Synodal period, the decision to build new churches depended on the availability of funds to support the clergy. In the early 18th century, parishes varied greatly from one another in terms of the number of households and the size of the clergy. There were parishes with as few as 15 households and two priests, but there were also those with as many as 200 households and five priests [910] . In 1711, Peter I ordered that priests be appointed only where absolutely necessary. A decree of 1718 prohibited the establishment of new house churches and ordered the closure of existing ones, with the exception of those belonging to the imperial family and certain nobles. In 1722, the Holy Synod emphasized in a special decree that the construction of new churches could take place only with its permission. In 1726, Catherine I granted this right to the bishops. The regulations of 1722 established a ratio of 300 households per church [911] . The new regulations of 1778 set the ratio at 150 households per church. At that time, the issuance of permits for the construction of new churches once again became the exclusive right of the Holy Synod. In 1800, the Synod had to remind the bishops of this decree [912] . Emperor Nicholas I issued detailed regulations on church construction [913] . In 1858, diocesan bishops were once again granted the right to grant permission for the construction of churches. In 1869, small parishes began to merge into larger ones, resulting in the closure of 2,000 churches; by 1880, their number had reached 4,800. It was not until 1884–1885 that the Holy Synod, in accordance with the wishes of parishioners, permitted the reopening of some of these churches. Beginning in the reign of Alexander II, state funds began to be allocated for the repair of churches [914] .

By a decision of the Great Moscow Council of 1666–1667, with the aim of monitoring the Old Believers, parish churches began keeping lists of those who confessed, but these became mandatory only under Peter I, who, by a decree of 1718, required that lists of those who did not attend confession be submitted annually so that monetary fines could be imposed on them. The second part of the “Spiritual Regulations,” which deals with the laity, prescribes annual communion. A joint conference of the Holy Synod and the Senate on June 18, 1722, resolved to replace the aforementioned list with three separate ones, which were to be submitted through the bishop to the Holy Synod: 1) those who had confessed, 2) those who had not attended confession, 3) those who had fallen into schism [915] . Following one of the joint conferences held during the reign of Anna Ioannovna, a highly complex 49-point form was introduced for such lists. In addition, all priests in county towns were required to compile lists of their parishioners, “from the elderly and middle-aged down to the very youngest infants,” indicating their age and place of residence [916] . According to the 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, lists of those who had received confession—compiled using a simplified format—were forwarded by priests through the deans to the consistory. The consistory processed these lists and metric data into so-called “inventory records” for the bishop’s annual report to the Holy Synod [917] . According to the Code of Laws, these records were considered official certificates of birth, marriage, etc. Beginning in 1837, parish registers containing data on births, marriages, and deaths were introduced and forwarded to the consistory. Based on this material, the consistories issued extracts or certificates upon request [918] .

Starting in 1769, so-called “clerical registers” began to be compiled, which included service records and information on church property. Each church maintained inventory books of church furnishings [919] .

i) With the beginning of Peter I’s reign, a clearer distinction emerged between state and ecclesiastical jurisdictions, to the detriment of the latter (see § 6). According to the provisions of the Stoglav and Ivan IV’s Sudebnik, clergy were subject to the jurisdiction of their ecclesiastical superiors even in civil matters. Only criminal offenses were punished by secular courts. In practice, however, these rules were not always observed. The Code of 1649 generally reaffirmed the Stoglav, although civil cases involving clergy were now transferred to the jurisdiction of the newly established Monastery Office. The Great Moscow Council of 1666–1667 abolished this arrangement and restored full ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the clergy, and by a decision of the Council of 1675, the Monastic Office was dissolved [920] . Under Peter I, the scope of ecclesiastical jurisdiction continued to narrow, and the distinction between it and state judicial authority became clearer. Despite this, under Peter’s successors, the state continually overstepped the bounds of its authority. It was only the Code of Laws of Nicholas I that established clear legal relationships, which were also codified in the Statute of the Consistories. In connection with the reform of the secular courts in 1864, the question of corresponding reforms to ecclesiastical proceedings arose, but no concrete decisions were reached (see § 6). Discussions on reforming the ecclesiastical courts at the Pre-Council Assembly of 1906 also proved fruitless.[921]

Peter I’s decree of December 16, 1700, transferring all civil cases involving clergy and laity to the jurisdiction of secular courts marked the beginning of the limitation of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. On January 21, 1701, the Monastic Office was reestablished, and from that point on, it became the highest court of appeal for the clergy, servants of bishops’ households, and peasants on church estates. Preliminary investigations were conducted by the relevant bodies of the Monastic Office in the uyezds and governorates. Dismissal from office or defrocking as punishments remained the prerogative of the ecclesiastical court[]. To investigate state crimes, Peter I established the Preobrazhensky Prikaz, at whose request the Spiritual Prikaz was required to defrock offenders. Clergymen often found themselves before this special tribunal on utterly trivial grounds, whereas the Vicar’s Ecclesiastical Office dealt only with crimes against the faith. Disputes between clergy, church servants, and church peasants, on the one hand, and laypeople, on the other, fell under the jurisdiction of the relevant offices.

In 1720, the Monastic Office was dissolved once again [922] . Its functions were transferred to the Collegium of Justice and its offices in the provinces and districts. In 1721, the Holy Synod reported to the tsar on the ambiguity of the clergy’s legal status, pointing to the absence of relevant provisions in the “Spiritual Regulations.” Peter acceded to the wishes of the Holy Synod by issuing a series of decrees that expanded ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The Holy Synod and the diocesan bishops once again gained judicial authority over those under their jurisdiction, with the exception of criminal, political, and a few other cases. State crimes remained under the jurisdiction of the Preobrazhensky Order [923] . At this time, ecclesiastical deputies first began to appear in secular courts in cases involving members of the clergy. For the most part, however, they were absent from hearings in the Secret Chancellery of Empress Anna Ioannovna. Empress Elizabeth finally recognized the right of ecclesiastical deputies to be present at criminal trials against clergy. Under Catherine II, this had already become common practice. By her decree of 1791, these functions were entrusted to permanent deputies in all dioceses. In the 19th century, the rights and duties of the deputies were precisely defined, and their participation in the work of the courts extended even to the pronouncement of sentences. The Code of Laws and the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories confirmed the status of the deputies, which was abolished only by the judicial reform of 1864 (see § 6)⁸⁰ .

According to the decrees of Peter I, laypeople fell under ecclesiastical jurisdiction only for very specific crimes against religion (blasphemy, witchcraft, heresy, refusal to confess, etc.), and the punishment was determined by a secular court. Many crimes fell under the jurisdiction of secular courts, such as: bride-snatching, cases involving wills, incest, and others.[924] As early as 1727, all laypeople who were in the service of the Church or lived on its lands (servants of bishops’ households, peasants) were subject to civil courts. Under Anna Ioannovna, the Secret Chancellery paid little heed to the legal norms established by Peter I and also severely punished crimes that fell under the jurisdiction of ecclesiastical courts. Elizabeth restored the rights of the latter and prohibited the arrest of clergy by secular authorities without consultation with church authorities [925] . Catherine II removed cases involving charges of blasphemy and witchcraft from the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical court. Her “Instruction” (1769) (chap. 20, art. 494) prescribed “caution in investigating cases of witchcraft and heresy.” The new marriage procedure she approved required the priest to ask the couple whether there were any impediments to the marriage, prohibited weddings in absentia (i.e., in the absence of the groom or bride—Ed.), and prohibited weddings in any location outside the church [926] .

Mixed marriages were prohibited in the Muscovite state. At the behest of Peter I, the Holy Synod permitted, in 1721, mixed marriages with Swedish prisoners of war and other foreigners who had entered Russian service. However, before the marriage, the husband had to pledge not to force his wife to convert and to have their children baptized according to the Orthodox rite. Orthodox men were not permitted to marry foreign women of other faiths until the reign of Nicholas I in 1833. In 1864, Orthodox women were granted permission to marry non-Orthodox men who were not in Russian service [927] . Both of these laws were issued by the state but were to be enforced by the consistories. In 1774, the minimum age for marriage was 15 for men and 13 for women. By a special decree dated July 19, 1830, the Holy Synod raised the minimum age to 18 and 16, respectively (with the exception of the Transcaucasian dioceses). These rules were incorporated into the Code of Laws, which also confirmed the maximum marriage age for men—80 years—as established by the Holy Synod in 1774 [928] .

Throughout the entire synodal period, the conclusion and dissolution of marriages were matters for the Church, and it was most often in these cases that laypeople came into contact with ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Church rules determined the degree of kinship permissible between prospective spouses, as well as the conditions for annulment or remarriage. By decree of the Holy Synod of 1810 (as had been the case previously), marriage was not permitted between individuals related to one another up to the fourth degree. In the 18th and 19th centuries, there were occasional exceptions at the insistence of the state authorities. For example, in 1827, the Moscow Consistory demanded that the marriage of Imperial Aide-de-Camp A. P. Mansurov—which had been performed in violation of the aforementioned norms—be declared invalid; however, Nicholas I ordered the case to be closed. In response, Metropolitan Filaret requested his resignation, but the emperor did not accept it. In the case of the marriage of Adjutant General P. A. Kleinmichel, a Lutheran, to an Orthodox woman who was his fourth-degree relative, the Holy Synod succeeded in upholding its prohibition [929] . In the 17th and 18th centuries, divorce cases were heard and decided by the diocesan bishop, although there were instances when a divorce decree was issued by a parish priest. By decrees of the Holy Synod in 1730 and 1767, this practice was prohibited, and the right to dissolve a marriage was reserved solely for diocesan bishops, until finally, by decrees of 1805 and 1810, the Holy Synod transferred these matters to its own jurisdiction. In Muscovite Russia, the deprivation of civil rights or the disappearance of one of the spouses could not serve as grounds for divorce. According to decrees of Peter I from 1720, 1722, and 1723, divorce became possible in principle in the latter of these cases [930] .

The Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories precisely defined the functions of the ecclesiastical court and the disciplinary powers of deans with respect to the clergy under their authority (Articles 69–71, No. 94 in the 1841 edition, and Articles 65–67 in the 1883 edition). The jurisdiction of the diocesan court over members of the clergy, according to Section 3 of the Statute, extended to the following cases: 1) misconduct and offenses against office, the clerical state, and good conduct; 2) disputes over the use of church property; 3) complaints by clergy and laypeople against the clergy (with the exception of criminal cases). With regard to laypeople, the following matters fell under the jurisdiction of the diocesan court: 1) illegal marriages; 2) the annulment of marriages and their reinstatement in cases of unlawful divorce; 3) the issuance of marriage certificates and birth certificates resulting from a lawful marriage; 4) offenses committed by laypeople that entail ecclesiastical penalties (Art. 148 in the 1841 edition and Art. 158 in the 1883 edition). The same section (Article 159 in the 1841 edition and Article 149 in the 1883 edition) defines the jurisdiction of secular courts with respect to clergy. This jurisdiction included: 1) disputes among clergy members or between clergy and laypersons regarding unfulfilled contracts and obligations, as well as claims for damages (civil law); 2) offenses against state laws; 3) serious criminal offenses (criminal law). In criminal cases, the initial investigation was conducted by ecclesiastical authorities (Articles 150 and 160). The referral of deputies to the courts (prior to 1864) is discussed in Articles 161 and 162 of the 1841 edition. Judicial procedure in such cases was governed by the provisions of the Code of Laws (Vol. 15, Part 2, Articles 1027–1029 in the 1876 edition). The Statute of the Consistories (Articles 163–186 in the 1841 edition and Articles 153–171 in the 1883 edition) contains precise provisions governing judicial procedure for ecclesiastical courts. The following penalties are prescribed for clergy: 1) defrocking of clergy and, in the case of monastic clergy, defrocking and expulsion from the monastic order, with exclusion from the ecclesiastical administration; 2) defrocking of clergy while retaining them in the ecclesiastical administration in lower positions, and defrocking of monastic clergy while retaining them in the monastic order as penitent members; 3) temporary suspension from the ministry with removal from office and reassignment to the rank of lay minister; 4) temporary suspension from the ministry without removal from office, but with the imposition of penance in a monastery or at the place of residence; 5) temporary probation in bishops’ residences and monasteries; 6) removal from office; 7) removal from the payroll (i.e., deprivation of financial support. – Ed.); 8) increased supervision; 9) a fine and monetary penalty; 10) prostrations; 11) a severe or simple reprimand; 12) a warning (Art. 187 in the 1841 edition and Art. 176 in the 1883 edition). In addition, the Statute contains a number of provisions regarding the application of punishments (Arts. 177–196 in the 1883 edition).

In some diocesan courts, there were court investigators [931] to assist the deans in conducting judicial investigations. The Judicial Statutes of 1864 worsened the clergy’s position vis-à-vis the secular courts. For official misconduct (such as embezzlement of church funds or the issuance of forged birth certificates), clergy were held accountable directly by the state prosecutor’s office. Diocesan authorities no longer participated in preliminary investigations; consistories were not required to give their consent for cases to be transferred to civil courts, and they were deprived of the right to send their representatives there. The court simply informed the bishop of the verdict. The bishop could, however, express his opinion on criminal cases, but the court was not obligated to seek it [932] .

A number of articles in the Statute are devoted to ecclesiastical trials of laypeople (Articles 216–297 in the 1841 edition and Articles 205–277 in the 1883 edition). For example, crimes against marriage—such as adultery—were punished by ecclesiastical penance or even exile to a monastery (Articles 278–279 in the 1841 edition and Articles 276–277 in the 1883 edition). The latter measure was often applied to sectarians—sometimes at the initiative of the state. Certain crimes committed by laypeople were heard jointly by secular and ecclesiastical courts. These included: 1) breach of marital fidelity—if, concurrently with the ecclesiastical divorce proceedings, a complaint was also filed with a secular court; 2) marriages entered into by force or fraud, cases involving which were heard by a criminal court with the participation of an ecclesiastical court to determine the legality of the marriage; 3) offenses against marriage (violation of rules regarding permissible degrees of kinship or marriages between Orthodox Christians and non-Christians); 4) exceeding the permitted number of marriages (no more than three); 5) crimes against the faith and the Church, about which, in most cases, church authorities notified the secular court; the latter handed down a sentence and communicated it to the Church, which in turn imposed a church penalty [933] . A special ecclesiastical punishment was the denial of a church burial for suicides, unless a forensic medical certificate was presented stating that the suicide had been committed in a state of insanity or as a result of mental illness (Articles 1472 and 859 of the Criminal Code, Vol. 15 of the Code of Laws). According to Article 1473, a case involving an attempted suicide was subject to ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The most severe punishment for laypeople was excommunication from the Church. It could be imposed only by the Holy Synod and entailed the loss of certain civil rights (Code of Laws, Vol. 15, Articles 45, 95, 246, 706).

k) The Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, K. P. Pobedonostsev, convened episcopal assemblies from time to time to discuss important ecclesiastical matters. The first such meeting took place in Kyiv in September 1884, when 11 bishops from the southern and southwestern dioceses, chaired by Metropolitan Platon Gorodetsky ( ), discussed measures against Stundism, the spread of which had begun to take on significant proportions. This resulted in a message from the bishops of the southwestern dioceses to their parishes; however, it did not prevent the sect’s further growth. That same year, a meeting of bishops was held in St. Petersburg to mark the 50th anniversary of Metropolitan Isidor Nikolsky’s pastoral ministry. The topics of discussion were education and the challenges of supporting the rural clergy. At the initiative of Pobedonostsev and Professor N. I. Subbotin of the Moscow Theological Academy, a conference of nine bishops from the Volga region was convened in Kazan in 1885 to discuss measures against schism. At the same time, issues related to missionary work among the non-Russian peoples of the Volga region were considered. That same year, missionary work was also discussed at a conference of seven Siberian bishops chaired by the Archbishop of Irkutsk. In 1888, the bishops, who had gathered in Kyiv to mark the 900th anniversary of the Baptism of Rus’, once again deliberated on the issue of combating Shundism. In 1908, a synod of bishops in Kyiv was again occupied with the problem of combating sectarianism in southern Russia. A meeting in Kazan in 1910 was devoted to missionary work among the non-Christian populations of the Volga region and Siberia [934] .

§ 12. The Episcopate

a) The episcopate of the Synodal period differed significantly in its composition and origin from that of the preceding era, when the view of Joseph, the abbot of Volotsk († 1515)—that a bishop could come only from a monastery—prevailed in both theory and practice. In the Muscovite state, residence in a monastery was considered a necessary condition for receiving the episcopal office. During the Synodal period, by contrast, bishops generally came from the ranks of the learned monastic clergy, who, unlike the ordinary monastic brethren, were little acquainted with monastic life proper.

Peter I was, in a sense, responsible for the new order. He favored bishops from Ukraine, where a learned monastic tradition had already taken root in the 17th century. As mentioned above (§ 1), Peter did not trust the Great Russian monastic order or episcopate, viewing them as opponents of his reforms and supporters of the patriarchate. Therefore, he worked to ensure that the ranks of the Great Russian hierarchy were replenished with numerous immigrants from Ukraine. The level of education among the Little Russian hierarchs was significantly higher than that of their Great Russian counterparts, for almost without exception, they had all been educated at the Kyiv Collegium (which became an academy in 1701). These bishops were indeed not fanatical supporters of the patriarchate, and in general, the idea of the patriarchate was not popular in Ukraine, which had been forced to submit to the Patriarch of Moscow only in 1686. However, it soon became clear that, in other respects, the Ukrainian bishops were not nearly as reform-minded as Peter had expected [935] . The only sincere supporter of Peter’s reforms among them was Theophan Prokopovich; the others, being advocates of unlimited and independent episcopal authority, although they submitted to Peter’s state church, by no means agreed with it in principle. The Little Russian hierarchy, transplanted onto Great Russian soil, as is evident from many biographies, came largely from noble circles and retained its way of life [936] . These bishops sought to compensate for their opportunistic support of the state church by exercising despotic control over the diocesan clergy under their authority, while finding support among their compatriots who held seats in the Holy Synod [937] . In the first half of the 18th century, with the exception of a brief period of the “Old Moscow reaction” under Peter II, the Holy Synod consisted almost entirely of Little Russian bishops. Until the 19th century, the reforms that led to the establishment of state control over the church at the highest levels of ecclesiastical administration had little impact on the parish clergy. Here, episcopal authority dominated, effectively separating the parish clergy and congregations from the higher ecclesiastical administration like a wall. In the dioceses, Little Russian bishops were extremely unpopular. “Woe and sorrow!” wrote Bishop Joasaph Mitkevich of Belgorod in 1763. “Now all Little Russians are held in utter contempt everywhere”[938] . Of course, there could be no question of any resistance to the bishops and their Little Russian entourage in the diocesan administrations. And in the first half of the 18th century, an ever-increasing number of Ukrainian abbots began to appear in monasteries [939] . The period of persecution under Anna Ioannovna did not alter the composition of the hierarchy, as the repressions affected both groups of the episcopate equally. During the reign of Elizabeth, the number of bishops of Ukrainian origin increased even further. It was not until 1754 that a decree was issued instructing the Holy Synod to nominate not only Little Russian but also Great Russian candidates for the positions of abbots and bishoprics [940] . After Arseny Matseevich, a Little Russian, proved to be the chief opponent of Catherine II’s secularization plans, the empress became distrustful of Ukrainian bishops and made it a rule to appoint Great Russians as bishops. She rightly pointed to the “intractable lust for power” of the Ukrainian hierarchy. The number of Great Russian bishops—who as early as 1764 held only 12 of 26 sees—began to increase also because the learned monastic community was now being replenished by graduates of the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy in Moscow [941] .

b) The unique phenomenon of the scholarly monastic order in the Russian Church deserves more detailed consideration. Its significance cannot be overstated—throughout the entire period from the 18th to the 20th century, it bore not only the responsibility for governing the Church but also for directing all pastoral work. Usually, all responsibility for the ecclesiastical disorder of the synodal period is attributed solely to the system of state-controlled church governance, overlooking such an important aspect of the matter as the hierarchs’ attitude toward their ministerial duties, which left much to be desired over the course of those 200 years. It was the right and duty of the bishops to uphold the canonically established boundaries of their authority, but their pastoral duties [942] should have been no less important to them.

The cradle of scholarly monasticism in the 17th century was the Kyiv Theological Academy. Its graduates were appointed abbots of monasteries in Kyiv or in the southern dioceses while still young. From the beginning of the 18th century, Peter I, as already mentioned, began appointing them to Great Russia as well, where they became primarily instructors at the Moscow Academy; the lists for the first decades of the 18th century show that the lecturers were exclusively monks trained in Kyiv [943] . One of Peter’s decrees from 1719 mandated the appointment of learned monks and hieromonks to churches in the capital and to the Alexander Nevsky Monastery with the prospect of their ordination as bishops [944] . Peter wanted to have educated bishops, and in 1724, together with Theophan, he wrote “A Declaration on When and Why Monasticism Arose, What the Former Monastic Rule Was Like, and How the Present One Should Be Improved.” In this treatise—which was also a pamphlet against monasticism—the emperor outlined a plan to establish two seminaries, whose graduates would hold the highest ecclesiastical offices. After taking monastic vows, they were required to spend a three-year probationary period at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, during which, in addition to fulfilling their monastic duties, they were also to read, translate, and compose sermons. As learned monks, they were granted privileges compared to ordinary monks, primarily regarding clothing and food. Those deemed “suitable” were appointed as teachers at theological schools, abbots of monasteries, and bishops, while those deemed “unsuitable” were sent to various monasteries as ordinary monks [945] .

From the early 18th century onward, teaching at theological schools and, later, serving as rector of a seminary became stepping stones on the path to the episcopate. Thus, this high office was bestowed upon very young monks who had never even seen a monastery (see § 18)[946] . To become a bishop, no special merits or outstanding qualities were required; average abilities and experience in teaching were sufficient, and after a few years, these ensured a professorship. If a teacher at a theological school—one of the learned monks—was transferred from one seminary to another while remaining rector and failing to attain the episcopal rank, this meant that either he was very unlucky or he held views that were too independent and inconvenient for the Holy Synod [947] . Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich quotes a statement by V. N. Karpov, a professor at the Moscow Theological Academy (1833–1867) who educated several generations of learned monks: “Many of them have passed before my eyes in my lifetime. If any of them are just so-so—average, phlegmatic, what is called neither here nor there—such people go their own way in life quietly and steadily, and they succeed and attain high ranks. But those who are gifted, energetic, and passionate almost always perish”[948] . The Holy Synod—or rather, the Chief Prosecutor—disapproved of these gifted “innovators,” who caused unrest and disrupted the customary, established order of things. What was needed were obedient individuals who would calmly and steadily follow the well-trodden path. A person behaving in this manner could, over time, count on being elevated to the rank of metropolitan or, at the very least, on receiving a wealthy diocese [949] .

As early as the 18th century, there were voices condemning the practice of filling the episcopate exclusively with learned monks. In 1767, Bishop Silvestr Starogorodsky of Pereyaslav, in his “Points,” attached to the instructions for the delegate from the Holy Synod to the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws, expressed the wish “that bishops be elected and ordained not so much on the basis of learning as of virtue, unless both qualities are found in a single person”[950] . Makarii Bulgakov, on the contrary, was an advocate of scholarly monasticism. While still a young archimandrite, at the beginning of his ecclesiastical—or, in other words, scholarly—career, he wrote in *The History of the Kiev Academy*: “Go through the lists of archpastors of all Russian dioceses, and you will not find a single one that did not have among its ranks several—or at least one—His Eminence who had been educated at the Kiev Academy—which, as it is fitting to call it here, was the breeding ground for Russian hierarchs of the eighteenth century”[951] . In the 19th century, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov ardently defended the privileges of the learned monastic order, demanding that teachers at theological schools and bishops be selected exclusively from among learned monks. “The government… has an urgent need to favor Orthodox (i.e., learned. – I. S.) monasticism… in order to prepare and select rectors and inspectors of theological academies and seminaries, as well as professors of theology. It is inappropriate for a lay person to serve as a theology instructor; ordained priests are tied to their families and parishes.” Filaret believed that “those who have completed a full course of theological studies at theological schools, with full approval of their conduct acquired over the course of several years under continuous supervision and moral guidance, may be exempted from the three-year novitiate period”; he believed that young men who had graduated from a theological academy could be tonsured as monks upon reaching the age of 25 [952] . In the 1860s, Metropolitan Filaret made considerable efforts to persuade Archpriest A. V. Gorsky—whom he knew well as an outstanding scholar and a remarkable man—to take monastic vows (at that time, his candidacy for the position of rector of the Moscow Theological Academy was under consideration). Since Gorsky declined, Filaret recommended one of the scholarly monks for the position, and only several years later, with a heavy heart, did he resolve to give his consent to Gorsky’s appointment [953] . As for the monastic duties of bishops, Filaret believed that “a monk elevated to the rank of bishop is necessarily obliged to subordinate the nature of monasticism to the higher nature of the episcopate and to fulfill monastic duties to the extent that they are compatible with the position and duties of the episcopate”. On Filaret’s recommendation, the Holy Synod established in 1832 a minimum age of 25 for monastic tonsure; however, in practice, this age was often even lower if a student wished to be tonsured before completing his studies [954] . Such cases became particularly frequent in the 1880s 19th century, when the appeal of monastic life in the eyes of students plummeted so sharply that it came to the point of direct agitation aimed at encouraging them to take monastic vows in order to replenish the dwindling ranks of candidates for the episcopate, who were increasingly having to be drawn from among the widowed white clergy who had taken monastic vows [955] . The result of such efforts—particularly on the part of Anthony Vadkovsky and Sergius Stragorodsky in St. Petersburg, as well as Anthony Khrapovitsky, rector of the Moscow and Kazan Academies—was a wave of sometimes hasty tonsures among young students. Of the 30 episcopal ordinations carried out by the Holy Synod with the participation of Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky between 1898 and 1910, 29 were of scholarly monks who had taken monastic vows in their youth. In this way, the scholarly monastic community succeeded in reestablishing its monopoly on the episcopate [956] .

From the very moment of its emergence, the financial situation of the scholarly monastic community was also highly privileged. As a rule, the position of rector at an academy or seminary was linked to the office of abbot at one of the monasteries, often a very remote one. The latter was purely nominal but meant receiving additional income from that monastery. In 1767, when fixed salaries were established for scholarly monks teaching at theological institutions, this practice was sanctioned by the Holy Synod. On December 18, 1797, Paul I issued a decree on the organization of the cathedral clergy, according to which 18 permanent positions were established in the three Lavras and the Donskoy Monastery in Moscow for learned hieromonks who had graduated “with success and distinction” from one of the academies. They were entitled to an annual stipend of 150 rubles from monastic funds. Other provisions contained in this decree echo the “Proclamation” of 1724: “Our Synod will not fail to prescribe their exact duties, making it a rule that they engage in translations, writings, preaching the Word of God, and teaching the sciences at academies and seminaries… and, in general, that they not turn to idleness, but serve directly for the benefit of the Church and the state, distinguish themselves by good conduct, and thereby be able to attain the rank of bishop”[957] . After the adoption of the Statutes of 1809–1814, doctors and masters of theology began to receive salary supplements. It was not until the Statutes of 1867–1869 that the link between the office of rector and that of abbot was abolished [958] .

In the 18th and early 19th centuries, widowed priests who had taken monastic vows were elevated to the episcopate only in the rarest of cases [959] . The situation changed in the second half of the 19th century, and especially from the 1870s onward, when the number of ordinations among academy graduates began to decline rapidly. “There are absolutely no candidates for the episcopate,” complained Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich, who, having served on the Holy Synod in 1887–1888, was well aware of the situation [960] . In this difficult situation, diocesan bishops were sometimes forced to encourage widowed archpriests, seminary professors, and seminary instructors to take monastic vows, with the intention of subsequently nominating them to fill episcopal sees. Nevertheless, the total number of bishops ordained in this manner was surprisingly small: during the second half of the 19th century and the early 20th century, there were only about 40 of them. On the whole, they proved themselves to be capable, paying particular attention to the needs of the parish clergy [961] .

The following data from statistics on the episcopate of the late 19th and early 20th centuries are of particular interest. In 1897, 100 bishops governed the dioceses; of these, 78 were graduates of theological academies, 8 of seminaries, one had a university education, one had a military education, and 12 had graduated from secular gymnasiums; 39 had been widowed priests before taking monastic vows; 4 came from other (non-clerical) social classes. In 1903, there were 16 retired bishops and 107 actively serving in church administration, including 3 metropolitans, 15 archbishops, and 105 bishops. 109 were graduates of theological academies, 8 of seminaries; 2 had completed a university education, 2 had not completed it, 1 had an agricultural education, and 1 had a military education. And only four held doctorates in theology: Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky of St. Petersburg, Archbishop Sergius Spassky of Vladimir, Bishop Vissarion Nechaev of Kostroma, and Vicar Sylvester Malevansky of the Metropolitan of Kyiv. Five hierarchs were over 80 years old (two of whom still administered dioceses), and 14 were over 70; the youngest was 34 years old [962] . All graduates of the academies, with the exception of three, followed the usual path of scholarly monks: through seminary and academy—to the episcopate—and even most of the former widowed priests taught in seminaries for some time. Thus, for both groups, teaching served equally as “preparation” for the episcopal see.

c) A number of changes occurred in the hierarchical structure of the episcopate during the synodal period. At the end of the 17th century, there were 22 dioceses, of which one was administered by the patriarch, 13 by metropolitans, 7 by archbishops, and 1 by a bishop. The differences between the dioceses were essentially of no practical significance, since transfers of bishops were extremely rare. Archimandrites and abbots of monasteries could, on occasion, be ordained directly as metropolitans or archbishops. This was still the case in the early years of Peter I’s reign, when Stefan Yavorsky was ordained as Metropolitan of Ryazan, and Dimitry Tuptalo as Metropolitan of Tobolsk and Siberia, both from the rank of abbot; the same occurred with Philotheus Leshchinsky, Arseny Maceevich, and several others [963] .

Peter I abolished the practice of directly ordaining individuals as archbishops and metropolitans, establishing instead the principle of gradual ascent up the hierarchical ladder. Peter viewed the appointment of bishops as a matter of state and politics, subject to his personal authority. The “Spiritual Regulations” state that the Spiritual College should be “like a school of spiritual governance,” where its councilors and assessors—future candidates for the episcopate—would have the opportunity to “learn spiritual politics.” On February 14, 1721, the tsar ordered the Holy Synod to present two candidates each time for “the sovereign’s consideration.” Thus, the practice of appointing bishops by monarchical decree acquired the force of law. Under Alexander I, in 1822, the number of candidates presented by the Holy Synod was increased to three. As early as the Senate decree of April 22, 1716, the articles of the episcopal oath had been formulated, which were subsequently incorporated in their main features into the “Spiritual Regulations”: “I hereby solemnly swear that the supreme judge of this ecclesiastical college is the All-Russian monarch, our most gracious sovereign.” This oath was not abolished until 1901 (see § 3)[964] .

From the perspective of canon law, the ordination of a bishop consists of two acts: 1) ordination, or chirotonia, which confers spiritual gifts upon the ordinand—an act having a purely dogmatic, spiritual basis; and 2) the appointment to a specific episcopal see—a legal procedure having a canonical basis [965] . In the pre-Peter era, these two acts were strictly distinguished, to the extent that a considerable amount of time often elapsed between them. Shortly after its establishment, the Holy Synod introduced the reverse order: first came the appointment, during which it was announced that the holder of the highest state authority recognized the candidate as worthy to occupy a particular see. The nomination took place in the Holy Synod or in the Moscow Synodal Office, during which the candidate took the episcopal oath to the emperor. The consecration (ordination) took place later in a church and was performed by at least two, and usually three, bishops according to a special liturgical rite, during which the newly consecrated bishop recited the episcopal creed. The written text of the creed was signed by both the new bishop and (as witnesses) the bishops who participated in the ordination [966] .

The removal of a bishop or his defrocking was the prerogative of higher ecclesiastical authorities and could not be carried out by the state, since the conferral or withdrawal of divine gifts (charisms) was entirely beyond its jurisdiction. At the same time, during the Synodal period, the state repeatedly compelled the Holy Synod to depose bishops or defrock them. Thus, Peter I ordered the defrocking and execution of Dositheus, Archbishop of Rostov, and Ignatius, Bishop of Tambov; he also ordered the defrocking of Ignatius, Metropolitan of Krutitsy, and to exile him to Siberia. Even after Peter I, at the behest of the state authorities, the Holy Synod defrocked Theodosius of Yanov, who was subsequently exiled to a monastery under the monastic name of Fedos. By order of Empress Anna Ioannovna, Lev Yurlov, Metropolitan Silvestr of Kholm in Kazan, Archbishop Varlaam Vanatovich of Kyiv, Archbishop Euthymius Kolleti, and Archbishop Theophylact of Lopatino were defrocked; however, under Empress Elizabeth, those who had survived were reinstated to their ranks. Catherine II ordered that Metropolitan Arseny Maceevich be defrocked. Under Alexander I, Archbishop Varlaam Shishatsky of Mogilev was defrocked and exiled to a monastery for having welcomed Napoleon and sworn allegiance to him in 1812 after the French capture of Mogilev [967] . In the years that followed, particularly under Nicholas I and during Pobedonostsev’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor, many diocesan bishops were removed from office and sent into retirement in monasteries for administrative offenses. The last such case was, it seems, the removal of Bishop Hermogenes Dolganov of Saratov under Chief Prosecutor Sabler in 1912.[968]

Another innovation introduced by Peter I was the abolition of the white cowl for metropolitans; at the same time, all bishops were granted the right to wear the sakkos, which had previously been a privilege reserved for metropolitans. Metropolitan Silvestr of Nizhny Novgorod, who had fallen out of favor, was transferred in 1719 first to Smolensk—retaining the rank of metropolitan but without the white cowl—then as a simple bishop to Tver (1720–1723), and finally to Ryazan (1723–1725). Even the See of Moscow was filled by archbishops from 1742 to 1775. Only Platon Levshin became a metropolitan (1775–1812), but his successor, Augustine Vinogradsky (1818–1819), again held the rank of archbishop; indeed, Filaret Drozdov himself, while already heading the Moscow Diocese from 1821 to 1826, held the rank of archbishop. In St. Petersburg, after 1770, there was also one archbishop among the succession of metropolitans—Ambrose Podobedov (1799–1801)[969] .

According to the 1764 regulations, dioceses were divided into three ranks, but the titles of the hierarchs were not standardized. With the abolition of the division into levels in 1867, the title of metropolitan was reserved for the bishops of Kyiv, Moscow, and St. Petersburg, while the rank of archbishop ceased to be tied to specific dioceses from that time on, becoming a personal distinction for bishops.

Article 13 of the “Spiritual Regulations” stipulated: “Let every bishop, whatever his rank—whether a simple bishop, an archbishop, or a metropolitan—know that he is subordinate to the Spiritual Collegium as the supreme authority, must obey its decrees, be subject to its judgment, and be content with its decisions.” Over time, the power of the chief procurators grew stronger, and they exerted an ever-greater influence on the election of bishops and the administration of dioceses. Bishops now had to take into account not only the opinions of the members of the Synod but also the views of the chief procurator. A. M. Ivantsov-Platonov very accurately characterizes this situation in his 1882 work: “One prosecutor prefers and promotes secular bishops who are close to society (Count D. A. Tolstoy. — I. S.); another—ascetics and simple souls (Count A. P. Tolstoy and, to some extent, Pobedonostsev. — I. S.). One primarily respects erudition, while the other— —uneducated simplicity. One would like to see more conservatism among the bishops, the other—more liberalism. One demands that the bishops be merely submissive executors of his designs, while the other would like, through forceful persuasion, to awaken in them greater independence and energy. Is it any wonder that, in the process, representatives of the Church are increasingly losing their independence and energy, and that, in general, these qualities in church life are growing weaker and weaker—not just with every century or half-century, but perhaps with every decade!”[970]

As far back as the 18th century, the dioceses were virtually untouched by the authority of the Chief Prosecutor. A diocesan bishop who carried out his duties in accordance with the views of his colleagues in the Holy Synod could, in the event of conflicts with state authorities—though certainly not always—count on their support, especially if the matter concerned the canonically established boundaries of episcopal authority. In the 19th century, as the power of the chief prosecutors grew, the situation in the dioceses changed completely, especially after the chief prosecutors gained personal representatives within the diocesan administrations in the form of consistorial chief secretaries. Now the bishop was under constant supervision, so that independent church administration was practically out of the question. Opposition to the chief prosecutor within the Holy Synod led, as already mentioned (§ 9), to the return of the recalcitrant bishop to his diocese, and he could be certain that his future career would be hampered [971] . More serious resistance was punished by retirement. For Protasov and Pobedonostsev, a favorite means of intimidating bishops was to frequently transfer them from one diocese to another [972] .

In the 18th century, the professional careers of bishops also became entangled in the web of favoritism. Among the favorites at court, alongside secular figures, were members of the clergy. Under Anna Ioannovna, this role was played by Theophan Prokopovich; under Elizabeth, it was her confessor, Archpriest Dubyansky. Archpriest Panfilov (d. 1794), Catherine II’s long-time confessor, enjoyed particular influence; he was “the empress’s trusted advisor on ecclesiastical matters,” as P. Znamensky described him. Bishops were accustomed to respecting his views and seeking his favor. Otherwise, a bold individual (such as Metropolitan Platon Levshin, for example) could face trouble [973] . In the 20th century, favoritism among the clergy experienced a new—its final, yet most spectacular—heyday thanks to Rasputin (§ 9).

Another factor complicating diocesan administration was the interference of state authorities. Clashes between ecclesiastical and state authorities occurred particularly frequently during the reign of Nicholas I [974] . The conflict between Bishop Irinarkh Popov of Riga (1836–1841) and the governor-general of the Ostsee Region ended in 1836 with the bishop’s removal from Riga [975] . When Archbishop Irenaeus Nestorovich of Irkutsk stood up for the clergy entrusted to his care, who were suffering from the abuses of the governor-general, a serious conflict arose, in which the representative of state authority emerged victorious once again: Irenaeus was exiled to a monastery [976] . In the 19th and 20th centuries, clashes between diocesan authorities and governors occurred very frequently [977] . The pressure to which diocesan bishops were subjected in their work had a devastating effect on the mental state of the hierarchs. Many of them, as shown by examples from the 1850s–1870s described in the memoirs of Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich, were driven to utter bewilderment. The “Chronicle” of Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov of Tver, covering an entire half-century—from 1850 to 1896—confirms this sad observation as it applies to a later period. The same picture is painted by Metropolitan Evlogiy Georgievsky’s memoirs regarding the last two decades of the Synodal period [978] . Of course, the crude informality of the Nicholas era in the latter half of the 19th century gave way to greater respectability, but the situation remained fundamentally unchanged: from the perspective of the state church, the governor viewed the diocesan bishop as an official of the “Department of the Orthodox Faith”; the extent to which the governor chose to exercise his administrative powers arising from this depended solely on his political prudence. In many cases, this situation was mitigated by the governor’s personal attitude toward the Church, as well as by the bishop’s tact and sensitivity and his ability to earn indisputable moral authority. Thus, Bishop Anthony Smirnitsky of Voronezh (1826–1846) exemplified an ascetic whose position was unshakable thanks to the love he received from the clergy and the people. The situation was similar for the strict Metropolitan Gregory Postnikov in all the dioceses under his jurisdiction. Such authority was impossible without a long tenure in the same see; however, from Pobedonostsev’s time onward, this became a rarity, as the Chief Prosecutor considered close contact between bishops and their clergy and flock undesirable. The specific social and psychological circumstances in which a Russian bishop found himself were such that a relationship of trust between him and the clergy of the diocese, as well as the faithful, could develop only gradually, through prolonged interaction. The clergy had grown accustomed to viewing the bishop (especially during the 18th century and the first half of the 19th century) not so much as a model pastor as primarily as a “lord.” Therefore, at first, they always behaved toward the bishop with fearful, almost distrustful caution and submissiveness. The people, for their part, expected from their bishop, above all, dignity and prestige; in their view, the importance of the episcopal office was best reflected in the unapproachable dignity of the prince of the Church. At the same time, the Russian bishop could always rely on the people’s remarkable sensitivity to what is genuine and authentic in a person, and, provided he possessed tact, the hierarch was quite capable of properly combining the loftiness of his position with human warmth and sincere, heartfelt compassion. It was unfortunate when, due to inexperience or impulsiveness, a bishop suddenly forgot the high dignity of his office, disregarding the distance between himself and the people, which, in the eyes of the latter, was both natural and necessary. Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov describes how the residents of Kostroma criticized their bishop, Augustine Gulyanitsky (1889–1892), for his “eccentricities”: “He supposedly walks around the city on foot to visit acquaintances”[979] . Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich also recounts the utterly fruitless attempts by some young bishops to establish simple and informal relationships with the clergy and the people. These attempts were thwarted by a centuries-old tradition rooted in a deeply ingrained notion of the exalted nature of the episcopal ministry. Moreover, it should not be forgotten that this tradition was shaped in part by the bishops themselves. It was impossible to break it with a single blow. Only a few hierarchs possessed sufficient maturity and personal stature to achieve closeness without losing their sense of distance. In most cases, a deep chasm remained between the episcopate and the clergy, as well as the laity. This chasm—this estrangement of the bishops from their flock—proved fatal for the Russian Church. It existed even in Muscovite Rus’, but in those days, the shared ecclesiastical worldview of the clergy at all levels and the entire faithful populace protected the integrity of religious life from the danger of schism. The roots of this danger—which, throughout the 18th century, penetrated ever more deeply into the religious consciousness of the Russian people—lay in the notion of the special exaltedness and unlimited nature of episcopal authority, as well as in the opulence of the bishops’ lifestyle, which Ukrainian hierarchs brought with them to Great Russia in the 18th century. Unable to resist the ever-increasing pressure from the state in the 18th and 19th centuries, the bishops vented their authoritarianism in another way—through despotic cruelty toward the clergy under their authority. Well aware of this situation, Theophan Prokopovich by no means included the following words in the “Spiritual Regulations” by chance: “Let every bishop know the measure of his honor and not think too highly of it”; “it follows… that a bishop should not be insolent or hasty, but long-suffering and judicious in the exercise of his authority” (On Bishops, Articles 14 and 16). In the 18th century, Arseny Maceevich’s statement sounded entirely natural: “The episcopate is the head of Christianity and the authority of Christ our God, who became incarnate”—with the resulting idea of the bishop’s absolute dominion over his subordinates in his diocese [980] . Arrogance and a thirst for power became increasingly characteristic traits of the hierarchy in the 18th century; the exceptions are easy to list: Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk, Gavriil Petrov (both Great Russians), and a few others. In 18th-century memoirs, there are increasingly frequent accounts of the bishops’ arrogance, cruelty, and unapproachability [981] . And even if someone was free of these vices, he still, at the very least, shared the general exaggerated conception of episcopal authority. At the level of diocesan administration, this authority operated without any restrictions, and it was largely to blame for the ever-widening chasm between the hierarchy and the people—including the lower clergy—whose interests state representatives in the Holy Synod often had to defend. In the unnatural, distorted legal situation of the synodal era, the hierarchy faced the danger that its canonically indisputable right to govern the Church would be morally undermined by the hierarchy itself. Any of the prominent hierarchs—Arseny Matseevich, Filaret Drozdov, Platon Levshin, Agafangel Solovyov, and, finally, Anthony Khrapovitsky: the governance of the Orthodox Church belongs exclusively to the hierarchy [982] .

The 18th century brought with it a new social structure—a division into estates that differed sharply from one another in dress, lifestyle, and, later, worldview. Amid this social realignment, the episcopate sought to remain at the top and pointedly distanced itself from the common, tax-bearing middle class. One need only recall how offended the Holy Synod was when the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws sought to classify the clergy as part of the middle class (see § 8). The luxury of the bishops’ lifestyle exceeded all bounds. Hierarchs appointed to the Holy Synod arrived in St. Petersburg with enormous entourages (Archbishop Arsenius of Mohyla arrived in 1744 accompanied by 52 people) and established for themselves in the capital something like small courts, whose splendor they sought to outdo one another with. Traveling in a four-horse carriage was commonplace, and velvet and silk robes were worn. Even after the secularization of church estates, the habit of luxury continued to persist [983] . Under Paul I, bishops began to be awarded orders, and they were even required to conduct divine services while wearing ribbons and stars. This was the case throughout the 19th century, and it was only Alexander III who personally took steps to eliminate this inappropriate custom [984] . Bishops tried to outdo one another with expensive liturgical vestments, which they either purchased themselves or received as donations [985] .

d) In line with Russia’s overall social and political development, there were significant differences in the activities of diocesan bishops in the 18th and 19th centuries. The 18th century was a time of class-based restrictions on occupations, service, and duties. Everything was subject to state control, supervision, and guidance in accordance with Peter’s motto: the public good must take precedence above all else. The 19th century began with the reign of Alexander I and its new spiritual trends, which, having been stifled under Nicholas I, revived with even greater force in the 1860s under Alexander II, leading to major reforms. These processes inevitably affected diocesan administration as well. Even conservative-minded bishops could no longer be content with outdated methods. The new codification of laws (1832) was of great significance, as it established rights alongside duties. As the bearer of authority, the hierarchy had to adapt to the new legal concepts.

In the 18th century, the heavy burden of unchecked episcopal authority fully defined the relationship between the bishop and the clergy under his authority. “The oppression of the clergy by the episcopal administration depended not so much on individual personalities as on the very system in which it was organized,” argues P. Znamensky [986] . Perhaps this is true as a characterization of the administrative mechanism; however, Znamensky himself acknowledges that a bishop, possessing almost unlimited authority, was capable of exercising his own initiative, provided he was not himself caught up in the patriarchal-bureaucratic spirit of the times. Only a few outstanding members of the church hierarchy—such as Gavriil Petrov, Platon Levshin, Archbishop Arseny Vereshchagin of Rostov, Archbishop Simon Lagov of Ryazan, and Bishop Theophilus Raev of Tambov—attempted to improve governance and alleviate the plight of the clergy. “The spiritual authority itself remained… with the same primitive patriarchal-bureaucratic character… Under such conditions, the entire diocese became a sort of private domain of its bishop, where all his administrative activities took on the character of his personal household affairs, in which no one was to interfere”[987] . It would seem that precisely such a system, built exclusively on the discretion of a single individual, should have served as a powerful incentive for the development of a strong sense of responsibility. However, experience showed that the hierarchs by no means possessed it to a sufficient degree to resist the intoxication of power, bearing in mind that the authority of the Church rests on principles entirely different from those of the state.

Archbishop Theodosius of Yanovsk’s autocratic rule went so far that he demanded an oath of allegiance to himself personally from the clergy under his authority. The same charge was later leveled against Arseny Maceevich. “Any hint of oversight over diocesan administration seemed to the diocesan bishops to be an injustice, a violation of their patriarchal rights”[988] . Even the requirement to keep inventory records was perceived as arbitrary, including by such an educated bishop as Platon Levshin. The notion that the clergy were completely powerless in relation to the bishop was ingrained among the hierarchy of the 18th century. The bishop viewed even the slightest display of self-respect on the part of the clergy as a personal insult, which was punished as an encroachment on his rights. The foremost principle of diocesan administration was strictness, which in that dreadful century was tantamount to cruelty. Throughout the 18th century, the administration of dioceses was characterized by harshness toward priests, church servants, and administrative officials, whose offenses resulted in corporal punishment. Arseny Matseevich’s rule in the Rostov Diocese was inhumane, and Ambrose Zertis-Kamensky did not fare any better in Moscow. The clergy simply hated the latter, as evidenced by numerous memoirs. Pavel Konyushkevich in Tobolsk, Kirill Florinsky in Sevsk, Pakhomius Simansky in Tambov (1751–1766), Gedeon Vishnevsky in Smolensk, Theophylact in Voronezh (1743–1757), and Varlaam Skamnitsky in Vyatka (1743–1748). The ferocity of Bishop Varsonofy of Arkhangelsk (1740–1759) went so far that it attracted the attention of Ambrose Yushkevich, who presided over the Holy Synod. Metropolitan Arsenius of Kyiv, a graduate of the Mohyla Academy, was reputed to be “lenient,” for as punishment he would merely have the monastic clergy chop wood [989] . According to P. Znamensky, the methods of episcopal justice were explained by the very system of administration of that century. “We must not forget, however,” he writes, “that we are dealing with a spiritual administration, where the foundation of law is a religious element, where the actions of the authorities are very often guided by a sense of religious zeal, which at certain stages of civilization could give rise to very cruel and fanatical actions… The spirit of the times and the extreme subjugation of the clergy to ecclesiastical administration left their mark even on ecclesiastical punishments, various kinds of penances”[990] . This idea deserves the utmost attention; at the same time, it reflects an extremely low assessment of the moral standards of the 18th-century episcopate. Just how strongly the hierarchy was in fact influenced by the “spirit of the times” is demonstrated by the criticism leveled by Innokenty Nechaev, Gavriil Petrov, and Platon Levshin against Catherine II’s “Decree,” specifically the empress’s view that religious offenses should not be punishable by secular courts. The church hierarchy, however, insisted on the necessity of secular punishments in addition to ecclesiastical ones [991] . Ultimately, the bishops’ strictness toward the clergy drew the attention of the Holy Synod. In 1766, it requested and received permission from Catherine II to mitigate penalties for omissions related to solemn divine services on the so-called “Victory Days.” The following year, a decree was issued prohibiting corporal punishment of priests, and in 1771 this prohibition was extended to deacons as well. However, these decrees remained merely on paper, so that in 1797 the Holy Synod was forced to reiterate its prohibition. In 1801, Alexander I abolished corporal punishment against priests altogether, including those convicted by secular courts [992] .

In the 19th century, bishops continued to hold the view that strict discipline was the only correct method of diocesan administration. Metropolitan Filaret’s numerous judgments regarding the misdeeds of the Moscow clergy demonstrate his severity, which, however, never reached extremes. In contrast, the practices of his colleagues reveal numerous instances in which their treatment of the clergy was quite harsh. For example, priests and deacons were exiled to monasteries for even the most minor offenses. The Bishop of Tambov, Evgeny Bazanov—nicknamed “Iron Evgeny”—had a notorious reputation; he brought Tambov to its knees and later governed other dioceses in the same manner until he finally became a member of the Holy Synod in 1850. A similar reputation was earned by his contemporary, Bishop Nicodemus Bystritsky of Orel, in whose character psychopathological traits are clearly visible —so petrified and lifeless did this ascetic appear, sleeping on bare planks with a log under his head and completely insensitive to everything around him [993] . Despite a general softening of morals, the awakening of public opinion, and changes in legal concepts, the principle of extreme strictness continued to govern the administration of dioceses in the second half of the 19th century. Archbishop Agathangel Solovyov of Volhynia († 1876) became notorious for his harshness, categorically rejecting the reform of the ecclesiastical court. This was equally true of Archbishop Pavel Lebedev († 1892), who successively held the sees of Chisinau, Tiflis (where an assassination attempt was even made on him), and Kazan [994] .

In the second half of the 19th century, the bishops’ tasks became more complex. The growth of public education placed increased demands on pastoral ministry. New sects emerged in the south and southwest; alongside dioceses plagued by sectarianism were those with predominantly non-Christian populations and, finally, those where Catholic missionary activity was taking place. The administrative tasks themselves changed little: everything was regulated by the Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories, state laws, and synodal decrees. It depended solely on each individual bishop whether or not he succeeded in strengthening his moral authority through an exemplary life, humanity, and the dignified celebration of the divine services (a factor that was very important and highly valued by parishioners).

New missionary tasks required special abilities, knowledge, and a passion for the work. There was a wealth of literature on the missionary work of priests, but little thought was given to the training of missionary bishops. Despite this, some very prominent figures emerged during the mission among the pagans. In the struggle against schism, bishops who relied not only on repression but also on spiritual weapons were less common. And among those combating sectarianism, bishops who possessed the gift of apologetics were generally the exception [995] .

Unlike in the 18th century, when every newly consecrated bishop immediately received a see, the vicariate now played a certain role (at least in theory) in the training of bishops. It became the norm to begin one’s career as a vicar bishop, although neither the laws nor the Statutes of the ecclesiastical consistories contained any provisions regarding the functions of vicars. It was left to the diocesan bishop himself to decide what duties to entrust to his vicar. There were cases when a vicar’s activities were limited to the duties of a monastery abbot, if, for example, the bishop did not wish to relinquish any authority in the administration of the diocese. With an eye toward his future career, it was extremely important for a vicar to maintain good relations with the diocesan bishop. And how easily these relations could be strained: whether through excessive energy, or scholarly erudition so profound that even the bishop himself could not rival it, or overly eloquent sermons, or simply too great a popularity among parishioners. In such a situation, an unfavorable evaluation from the bishop could be offset only by extensive connections or high-level patronage. Only a few diocesan bishops possessed the objectivity toward their vicars that Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov or Metropolitan Innokentii Veniaminov demonstrated [996] . This is confirmed by the lists of bishops and their biographies. There were some unsuccessful figures who, for many years, in the words of Makarii Bulgakov, were “shuffled” from one diocese to another [997] . But there were also vicars who served under many bishops in the same diocese [998] . Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov possessed such authority that he could select his own vicars. He nurtured a whole series of capable conservative bishops who had proven themselves well in matters of administration: Isidor Nikolsky, Philotheus Uspensky, Leonid Krasnopevkov, Alexius Rzhanitsyn, and Savva Tikhomirov [999] . But overall, it must be acknowledged that the institution of vicars was never utilized with due care for the training of future bishops.

A major problem during the Synodal period was the frequent transfers of bishops. In the 18th century, this practice was not overly abused, but in the 19th and 20th centuries, it became a constant occurrence. This phenomenon was particularly noticeable not under the Ober-Procurator, say, Count D. A. Tolstoy—who was not well-liked by the bishops—but under Protasov, Pobedonostsev, and Sablere, who, for ecclesiastical and political reasons, sought to prevent bishops from taking root in their dioceses [1000] . To the great detriment of the dioceses, these transfers were carried out completely without any plan or system. A bishop who had proven himself excellently in one of the outlying regions was suddenly transferred to the other end of the vast empire, where conditions were entirely different. For example, Ioannikiy Gorsky, who had successfully combated schism in the Saratov Diocese (1856–1860), unexpectedly found himself in the See of Kholm and Warsaw. Ioannikiy Rudnev, who had also distinguished himself in the struggle against Old Belief, was appointed Exarch of Georgia (1877–1882) from among the bishops of Nizhny Novgorod [1001] . Although the division of dioceses into ranks had been abolished, it still retained some significance in transfers. Furthermore, the Holy Synod endeavored not to transfer distinguished bishops from wealthy dioceses to poor ones. Considerations of this kind took precedence over suitability or unsuitability for performing particular tasks [1002] .

Despite the unfavorable ecclesiastical and political conditions described above, some bishops achieved remarkable success in the administration of their dioceses. Strictness and harshness toward the clergy under their care were at times combined with diligence in administrative matters, which were often greatly complicated by the size of the dioceses and the underdeveloped state of transportation.

Arseny Matseevich was one of the few 18th-century bishops who knew his diocese well thanks to frequent inspection tours. The same can be said of Simon Lagov (Bishop of Kostroma in 1769–1778, Bishop (1778–1792), and then Archbishop (1792–1804) of Ryazan), who, during his many years of service, managed to visit every single parish in his dioceses. Much was accomplished for the monasteries and the parish clergy by Gabriel Petrov, Bishop of Tver (1763–1770) and Metropolitan of St. Petersburg (1770–1799). Among the outstanding hierarchs of the 18th century was also Arseny Vereshchagin, who, even before his ordination, actively assisted Gabriel Petrov in improving monastic life in Tver; later, as Bishop of Tver— , and then of Rostov—he was known for his concern for seminaries and public schools [1003] . The subject of special concern for Bishop Theophilus Raev of Tambov (1778–1811) was monasteries, and above all, the office of the abbot. Platon Levshin (1775–1812) established an exemplary system of spiritual education in Moscow [1004] . As for the Little Russian dioceses, whose administration was brought into line with the Great Russian model only at the end of the 18th century, mention should be made here of Archbishop Irodion Zhurakovsky of Chernigov (1722–1738), who showed great concern for the clergy, as well as Metropolitans Arsenius of Mohyla (1757–1770), Gabriel of Kremenets (1770–1783), Samuel of Mislav (1783–1796), and Raphael of Zaborov (1731–1757) for their work in support of the Kyiv Academy [1005] .

And in the first half of the 19th century, there were bishops who considered visiting parishes their primary duty, though the mere news of their approach (as a priest of the 1840s put it in his notes) caused “trepidation and confusion” among the clergy [1006] . An example for the bishops of that time was Ignatius Semenov (1828–1842), the first head of the newly formed Olonets Diocese: he organized the administration of the diocese, cared for the education of the clergy—with whose help he established parish schools—and fought against schism [1007] . Before church policy in the Georgian Exarchate took a fateful turn toward nationalism and Russification in the second half of the 19th century, Ion Vasilevsky (1821–1832) did much to improve the situation of the clergy, who were literally living in poverty. And under the compassionate Moses Bogdanov-Platonov (1832–1834), the administration of the Exarchate also remained at a high level. His successor, Evgeny Bazanov (1839–1844), on the contrary, caused immense harm through his cruelty and arbitrariness [1008] . Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov of Moscow (1821–1867) was an outstanding administrator, in addition to his other virtues. He delved into every individual case and substantiated his always very precise decisions with detailed explanations, which became general administrative guidelines. He was considered strict but fair, and for this reason the clergy both feared and respected him. Despotism and arbitrariness were entirely foreign to him; unlike some of his colleagues, he never failed to respect the priestly office of his subordinates [1009] .

Too little material has been published on diocesan administration and the activities of individual bishops in the second half of the 19th and early 20th centuries to form a clear picture. Changes in laws and perspectives could not help but affect church administration. The fact that change was entirely possible in this area is demonstrated by the activities of Alexy Rzhanitsyn, a conservative bishop of the Filaret school. During his tenure as Bishop of Tavria (1860–1867), Alexy was one of the first to allow deans, as elected representatives of the clergy, to participate in diocesan administration. He encouraged initiative among the clergy by permitting conventions of church ministers, a move that marked a significant departure from the principles of his great teacher [1010] . Bishop Euthymius Belikov of Saratov (1860–1865), who died young, as a true “Sixtier” devoted considerable effort to the education of the clergy in his diocese. There were only three parish schools in the diocese; Euthymius not only increased their number but also enlisted the clergy to work in them [1011] . Overall, it can be stated that from the mid-19th century onward, bishops increasingly began to show concern for the needs of rural clergy [1012] .

The main means of pastoral care, as will be discussed in more detail later, was considered to be preaching [1013] . The development of parish life in the 18th century was completely overlooked, as if they had forgotten that it is precisely the parishes, like cells, that make up the body of the Church. The beginnings of self-governance in church communities (for example, in the form of the election of clergy) gradually faded away; moreover, they were suppressed from above. Therefore, there is little data that could attest to the role of bishops in the development of parish life. Nevertheless, a few names deserve mention. Among the 18th-century bishops, Archbishop Varlaam Petrov deserves mention. In the 19th century, Bishop Vissarion Nechaev of Kostroma (1891–1898) took an active interest in parish life; prior to his consecration as a bishop, he had served as a parish priest in Moscow for 30 years. Archbishop Anastasy Dobradin of Voronezh (1898–1913) also contributed to the revitalization of parish life and enjoyed great authority in his diocese [1014] .

However, a bishop’s popularity depended first and foremost on his ability to conduct the Divine Liturgy with solemnity and dignity. The Russian people experience their faith primarily through the Liturgy; therefore, they have always valued bishops who knew how to serve with due dignity, forgiving them for their other weaknesses in return. The bishop’s divine service was one of the means of drawing the people into church life and could even serve as an instrument of internal mission. The cruel despot Bishop Varlaam Skamnitsky of Vyatka (in Vyatka from 1743 to 1748, and in Veliky Ustyug from 1748 to 1761) completely atoned, in the eyes of the people, for all the negative traits of his character through the solemnity of his divine services. The majestic appearance of St. Petersburg Metropolitan Anthony Rafalsky (1843–1848)—a man who was otherwise unremarkable in every other respect—and the beauty of his divine services drew crowds of people to the church, who were willing to overlook their bishop’s obvious shortcomings. Metropolitan Gregory Postnikov was also renowned for his divine services. In Kamianets-Podilskyi, the liturgies celebrated by Bishop Kirill Bogoslovsky-Platonov of Podolia (1832–1841) drew not only Orthodox Christians but also Catholics. The services of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov enjoyed nationwide fame. In Moscow, the people were particularly spoiled and demanding in this regard. Thus, the unpopularity of the Metropolitan of Moscow Leontius Lebedinsky (1891–1893) was attributed precisely to the haste and superficiality of his services, rather than to shortcomings in his administration [1015] .

A bishop’s lifestyle was also of great importance to his authority. Among the bishops of the Synodal era, one can find a number of true ascetics. Some of them, who lived in the 18th century, were even canonized [1016] . Among the 19th-century bishops, Theophan the Recluse (1815–1894) serves as an example of an ascetic life. Bishop Ambrose of Ornatsk (1778–1827) lived as a hermit from 1825 to 1827. After his retirement, he settled at the Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery, where he led a strict ascetic life in complete seclusion, so much so that even the monk who brought him meager meals (and he subsisted almost entirely on prosphora) did not see him every day. At night, even in winter, he could be seen kneeling on the stone slabs of the church. He distributed his episcopal pension in response to letters from the poor. Ambrose died on February 27, 1827.[1017] Less well-known is Bishop Jeremiah Solovyov (1799–1884). He felt very unhappy in the office of diocesan bishop, since the fate of a learned monk had forced upon him a career to which he felt no calling. It was only in the monastery that he found the peace he longed for. For 27 years, he did not leave his cell, leading a strictly ascetic life of prayer and fasting until his very death. His works, *Admonition from Above* and *Spiritual Healing*, went unnoticed, although they deserved every attention. Jeremiah passed away on December 6, 1884.[1018] Archbishop Meletius Leontovich of Kharkiv (1835–1840) and his contemporary, Archbishop Anthony Smirnitsky (1773–1846) of the neighboring Diocese of Voronezh, were distinguished by their ascetic lives.[1019] Filaret Amfiteatrov (1779–1857) also held monastic life, monasticism, and the role of the elder in high regard. Lacking an academic education, he was not a proponent of scholarly monasticism and rose slowly through the ranks of the hierarchy, becoming a member of the Holy Synod only in 1836 and Metropolitan of Kyiv in 1837. Due to disagreements with Filaret Drozdov and Chief Prosecutor Protasov, he left the Synod and retired to his diocese. In his letters, he comes across as an ascetic and mystic with little interest in administrative matters [1020] . These few examples show that a significant portion of the Russian hierarchy had a penchant for personal asceticism and was close to true monasticism, even though they lacked personal experience of monastic life. Conversely, Ignatius Bryanchaninov, who never abandoned the monastic way of life even while holding the rank of bishop, was a true monk, a vivid example of the fact that both paths were, after all, compatible [1021] and that there was no need to necessarily link the fate of the episcopate with scholarly monasticism, for, when properly organized, monasteries were fully capable of providing worthy candidates for the episcopate [1022] .

Among the hierarchs who had come from the scholarly monastic order were outstanding theologians whose scholarly interests distracted them from administrative duties, forcing them to retire early [1023] . A typical figure among them was Metropolitan Evgeny Bolkhovitinov (1767–1837): in all the numerous sees he held, he was more interested in archives than in day-to-day affairs. His contributions to the development of Russian ecclesiastical history were immense. Makarii Bulgakov (1816–1882) was much the same; after ten years of episcopal service, he admitted: “Oh, how tedious the episcopal ministry is—I can’t wait to retire!” He was only 51 years old at the time. His most important undertaking was his work on *The History of the Russian Church*[1024] . Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky (1805–1866) was also a scholar by vocation, but his abilities and thorough theological knowledge found it difficult to flourish during the Nikolay era. His work on the Church Fathers received a negative assessment from the Holy Synod and drew Protasov’s disapproval for what he called Peter Mohyla’s *Catechism* a work of Western scholasticism. This unfortunate experience caused Filaret to hesitate when he was asked to write a textbook on dogmatic theology. “These proposals,” he writes to A. V. Gorsky, “are flattering to one’s pride but not to prudence, which is attentive to the state of affairs. I am still not taking on this task.” Working on a history seemed to Filaret more appropriate for the prevailing situation [1025] . Scholarly work had an adverse effect on the career of Bishop Porphyry Uspensky, forcing him to retire. To this day, his works have been published only in part. Bishop Innokenty Smirnov (1784–1819) was a scholar by vocation, a gentle man with a penchant for mysticism. Bishop Makarii Mirolyubov (1817–1894) earned renown as a Church historian. Bishop Amphilochius Kazantsev (1818–1893) also made a significant scholarly contribution to the fields of ecclesiastical archaeology and paleography. Archbishop Athanasius Drozdov (1800–1876) was in the habit of burning his own works. He was a man of phenomenal erudition, with a deep knowledge of Egyptian, Assyrian, Sanskrit, Ancient Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; he was fluent in four modern languages and had thoroughly mastered foreign literature on biblical studies, as well as on mineralogy, astronomy, and botany. His study was anything but a typical bishop’s office. He left behind no written works of his own; however, as rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, he raised its academic standards and attracted many scholars to work there. Archbishop Sergius Spassky (1830–1904) made outstanding contributions to the field of hagiography [1026] . During the last turbulent 20 years of the Synodal period, no significant scholars emerged from the episcopate. It is true that some future hierarchs published their scholarly works immediately upon graduating from the academy, primarily on issues of ethics (for example, Sergius Stragorodsky), but on the whole, theological scholarship traditionally remained the domain of the academies [1027] . In scholarship, as in other areas of church life, a special place belongs to Filaret Drozdov. He did not write systematic works; however, his speeches, resolutions, and reviews reveal a deep knowledge of dogmatics, canon law, and asceticism, so that the Holy Synod constantly consulted him as a recognized scholarly authority [1028] .

d) The tragedy of the Russian episcopate during the Synodal era lies in the inadequacy of its pastoral activity, which led to the formation of a deep chasm separating the hierarchs from the lower clergy and the flock. P. Znamensky discerns signs of this phenomenon as early as the 18th century, believing that it reached its peak during the reign of Catherine II [1029] . Although outwardly there was also no close connection between bishops and the faithful in the old Muscovite state, this shortcoming was offset by the complete unity of the Church’s worldview and the ecclesiastical-political aspirations that flowed from it. At the beginning of the 20th century, Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky wrote: “A bishop has no personal life, no life for himself, but he lives the life of the Church, devoting his life to the salvation of others, in whose lives his joys and hardships are found”[1030] . Such an ascetic ideal was foreign to the bishops of the Synodal era. Its most prominent representatives saw their task as governing the faithful, rather than providing them with pastoral care. This was the understanding held, for example, by Arseny Matseevich and Ambrose Zertis-Kamensky in the 18th century, Filaret Drozdov in the 19th, and Anthony Khrapovitsky in the 20th. This mindset, which erected an insurmountable barrier between the bishops on the one hand and the lower clergy and the people on the other, faced increasingly sharp criticism from the latter—evidence that society remained concerned about the internal needs of the Church. In this regard, the restless Archimandrite Markell Rodychevsky, an opponent of Theophan Prokopovich, deserves special mention. Among his papers, a study of the “Spiritual Regulations” and Peter the Great’s decrees on monasticism has been preserved. “The first and most important duty of the highest imperial authority is to command the ecclesiastical administration to seek out, by all means, from the monastic order those who are most divinely inspired… and, having examined them… whether they prove to be as they are said to be, and… to appoint them to the highest ecclesiastical offices, namely the most distinguished positions in the episcopate and archimandrite ranks… For when such good bishops are elevated in the dioceses, they will take every care to reform the entire monastic order throughout their dioceses; and all the more so when such men are found in the highest ecclesiastical administration itself, or when such a man is placed above all others as the very head (Markell refers to the patriarchate. – I. S.), then he will be inclined to appoint such men as bishops—one of his own kind will seek out his own kind… And for the episcopate, and even more so for the office of archimandrite, what is needed are not so much learned men as those who are inspired by God and virtuous, who would teach not so much by word as by deed”[1031] .

Two works dating from the 18th century argued that 1) priests are equal to bishops in the administration of the sacraments and that 2) a priest can become a bishop without taking monastic vows. The author of the second of these works was Archpriest Peter Alekseev (1772–1801), to whom P. Znamensky also attributes the first, which has neither a title nor a signature, dating it to the eve of Catherine II’s great reforms. The historian writes that this was a voice of protest against the humiliating position of the clergy in relation to episcopal authority [1032] . According to Alekseev, the Gospels, the Epistles of the Apostles, and the decisions of the Councils prove the equality of bishops and priests in the celebration of the holy sacraments. The existing differences are historically conditioned and stem from the bishops’ lust for power. The second work appears to be a continuation of the first, repeating many of its theses. Furthermore, it develops the idea that the priesthood is of fundamental importance to the episcopal ministry, constituting its most essential part. From this, the conclusion is drawn that a priest may be ordained as a bishop without being a monk [1033] . These ideas continued to persist into the 19th century, finding—albeit extremely rarely—sympathy even among the bishops themselves. The liberal Bishop Irinarkh Popov of Riga (1836–1842) believed: “In the time of the apostles, bishops were a kind of dean and stood on equal footing with priests. Therefore, Lutherans have no need to introduce the episcopal order. A tradition not based on Holy Scripture is not binding”[1034] . In contrast, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov was highly skeptical even of those bishops who had taken monastic vows after being widowed priests. “For the most part, it is too late to teach them the duties of the higher ministry,” he said, as if candidates from the scholarly monastic ranks were being taught this![1035] An article that appeared in the newspaper *Den* (1862, Nos. 25–26), which proposed allowing priests to be ordained as bishops, alarmed Chief Prosecutor A. P. Akhmatov to such an extent that he suggested to Savva Tikhomirov, rector of the Moscow Theological Academy, that he find an opponent to refute it. Tikhomirov chose A. V. Gorsky, but the strictly scholarly argument presented by Gorsky turned out to support, rather than oppose, the newspaper article [1036] . Consequently, the rebuttal so eagerly sought by the Chief Prosecutor was written by Archimandrite Ioann Sokolov, rector of the Kazan Theological Academy, who was awarded a gold pectoral cross as a reward. Bishop Gury Karpov of Tavria (1867–1882) also defended monasticism as an indispensable condition for ordination to the episcopate in his work “On the Divine Institution of the Episcopal Office” (Moscow, 1876)[1037] .

After censorship was relaxed in the late 1850s, open criticism of the hierarchy and the scholarly monastic community—from which bishops were drawn—picked up significantly; such criticism had previously been nearly impossible. In 1858, a work titled “Description of the Rural Clergy in Russia” was published anonymously in Leipzig at the initiative of the renowned historian and publicist M. P. Pogodin. This fact alone demonstrates how deeply society was aware of the Church’s internal turmoil—for Pogodin himself was, by his own convictions, quite conservative. Many copies of this work made their way to Russia, and its author, the priest Ioann Bellustin (1820–1890), gained notoriety. A lively public debate ensued. Drawing on his personal impressions from a stay in one of the poorest dioceses, the author paints a picture of the oppressed condition of the rural clergy, suffering under the arbitrariness of bishops and consistories. Responsibility for this dire situation is attributed to the learned monastic order and episcopal despotism [1038] . A year later, in Berlin, N. V. Elagin published a collection of responses to Bellustine’s work under the title “The Russian Clergy,” without naming the authors. Among them is an article titled “An Orthodox View of the Office of Bishops,” whose author considers monasticism mandatory for bishops [1039] . D. I. Rostislavov, a former professor at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, also published an unsigned essay in Berlin in 1866 titled “On the White and Black Clergy,” containing his characteristic criticism of scholarly monasticism and the episcopate [1040] .

After the bishops prevailed over public opinion and the white clergy regarding the reform of the ecclesiastical court proposed by Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy (§ 6) (the reform was aimed at limiting the arbitrariness of the bishops but was never implemented), direct attacks against the hierarchy in the press ceased. The view began to prevail everywhere that the cause of all the turmoil was the system of church administration as a whole, which was what needed to be changed. It is precisely this idea that prevails in the extensive literature on church reform published during the period of the Pre-Council Assembly in 1905–1906. An article analyzing the activities of K. P. Pobedonostsev appeared in the conservative newspaper *Novoye Vremya*, which stated: “It is incomprehensible how he failed to see that the bishops, archbishops, and metropolitans—who had been turned into what was practically the personal staff of the Chief Prosecutor—now bear only the name and shadow of their office, having lost its very essence; that they, pleasing not Christ but man, are traitors from the very first step of their ministry. That is why, ever since the time of Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow—who occasionally defied Chief Prosecutor Protasov—we have had no prominent minds or strong characters at the top of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Those who were promoted were simply people who knew how to conduct the episcopal service well: without a state-wide, national, or church-wide perspective. Such individuals were convenient as second- and third-ranking officials in the Ober-Procurator’s court, serving as the Ober-Procurator’s right and left hands”[1041] .

At the meetings of the Pre-Council Assembly, the restoration of the patriarchate was viewed as a panacea for all the Church’s ills. A portion of the liberal White clergy opposed this, fearing that the complete abolition of state control over the Church would lead to a strengthening of the bishops’ authority both at the central level and in the dioceses. Representatives of the faculty of theological academies also expressed this same opinion at these meetings. On the other hand, it was evident that the synodal system isolated the episcopate from the rest of the clergy and the faithful and made it dependent on state authority. The state’s control over the nomination of candidates for episcopal offices also had an adverse effect on the composition of the episcopate [1042] .

Chapter IV. Parish Clergy

§ 13. The Formation of the Clerical Estate

a) From the beginning of the 18th century, such significant changes occurred in the composition, rights, organization, and material support of the white clergy that the Synodal period became a truly unique era in the history of the parish clergy. The introduction of the state church system altered the structure of the Church and, consequently, the status of the parish clergy. State authority exerted an ever-greater influence on the living conditions of the parish clergy [1043] . The result of this process was the transformation of the parish clergy into a clerical estate (rank).

P. Znamensky, who has studied the history of the parish clergy in the 18th century in detail, quite rightly notes: “Ancient Rus’ had not yet developed either class-based restrictions on the choice of a particular way of life and occupation, nor particularly stringent requirements for entering the clergy regarding specialized training for church ministry; impeccable morality and literacy—understood in the most modest sense as the ability to read and, to some extent, sing—were all that our ancient saints required of their protégés”[1044] . At the same time, even then many bishops considered this level insufficient, although it corresponded to the general state of education in Muscovite Rus’. Peter I’s measures to strengthen education, along with the heightened requirements imposed especially on those entering public service, led to a certain educational standard becoming a prerequisite for holding church offices as well. All of this fundamentally undermined the traditions of communal election of the clergy and the hereditary succession of church offices in parishes. In addition to providing instruction and upbringing, theological schools also assumed the function of selecting candidates for the parish clergy. Over time, the curriculum of these schools and the distinctive spirit of seminary education left a unique imprint on the clergy, setting them apart from the laity. The clergy increasingly developed its own unique way of life, which was determined by the particularities of its material and legal status. As in Muscovite Rus’, the legal status of the clergy was determined first and foremost by its relationship to ecclesiastical authority and to the parish entrusted to it.

It was precisely thanks to the parish clergy—and despite their extremely difficult material conditions, under the dual yoke of the hierarchy and state authority—that the Church of the Synodal period managed to preserve its primary purpose: its pastoral ministry. The situation of the parish clergy proved to be far more difficult than that of the hierarchy and the monastic community; nevertheless, it was upon their shoulders that the burden of responsibility for the Church’s spiritual ministry rested during the era of state-controlled religion. Living a meager existence, poorly educated, and oppressed, the rural priest humbly accepted this burden as his natural duty and bore it with silent meekness throughout the entire Synodal period. And if the spiritual care of the people was far from perfect, the fault lay not with him but with the system, whose rigid framework limited his activities. In essence, the Russian people owe it to the rural priest for that reserve of positive spiritual strength that was preserved thanks to a strong tradition and in spite of all corrupting influences.

The formation of the clergy took place in line with the reorganization of society based on estates, or classes, initiated by Peter I (the latter term is also found in Nicholas I’s Code of Laws). In the Muscovite state, the population was divided into service-class and tax-paying people, though there was no clear boundary between them. From several groups of service-class people, Peter I formed the szlachta (the term “nobility” became established only after Catherine II’s 1762 manifesto, thanks to the Commission for the Compilation of a New Code of Laws). The urban tax-paying populace gave rise to the petty bourgeoisie (referred to as “citizens” in the 1719 Regulations of the Chief Magistrate ). The state peasantry emerged from the lower ranks of the service class and the tax-paying peasants of the sovereign’s estates. Finally, the serf peasantry emerged from the tax-paying peasants attached to the land of private estates and from serfs. The same trend also led to the formation (albeit at a much slower pace) of the clerical estate from the parish clergy and their descendants. In accordance with the Old Moscow tradition, all estates were obligated to serve the sovereign to the best of their abilities and knowledge. The service of the clergy consisted in their role as worshippers of the great sovereign. Through a series of decrees, Peter restricted the freedom to choose one’s profession and made membership in a particular estate hereditary. Thus, both entering the clergy and leaving it became much more difficult.

When filling clerical positions, the tradition of election and hereditary succession for parish offices—dating back to the 17th century—remained in effect at first, even after candidates were required to provide certificates of graduation from a theological school, seminary, or the Moscow Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy. But gradually this tradition fell into disuse: first, elections ceased, and then hereditary succession as well. By the 19th century, only one thing was required to become a priest—a document certifying one’s education. Even church ministers, or clergy assistants, began to be appointed rather than elected. From the 18th century through the 1870s, the number of vacancies did not match the number of applicants. Each diocese attempted to resolve the complex problem of allocating positions on its own, and a candidate could apply for a position only within his own diocese. It sometimes happened that one diocese had a surplus of candidates, while another had a shortage. It was not until the second half of the 19th century that candidates began to be granted some freedom of choice. Beginning in the time of Peter I, the government repeatedly made efforts aimed at reducing the size of the clergy. This was caused not so much by an abundance of candidates for clerical positions as by a shortage of educated people in the army, administrative institutions, and secular educational institutions. At the same time, a desire among young people to leave the clergy began to emerge. “Not only did the clergy fail to attract outsiders,” writes P. Znamensky, “but even in the 18th century, it had to almost forcibly retain its own members, who were eager to break away and pursue various paths of more lucrative secular service. The more time passed, the more dangerous this exodus from the clergy—and, moreover, for the most part consisting of the most energetic and talented individuals—became”[1045] . It had a devastating effect on the composition of the parish clergy.

b) Even before the 18th century, the principle of election competed with the principle of hereditary succession to church offices, and parishioners could elect as priests or church ministers individuals from any social class. When filling a vacancy, the interests of three parties clashed: the diocesan authorities, the parish, and the candidate himself. From the beginning of the 18th century, the diocesan authorities sought to strip the parish community of its right to choose, while the community, in turn, attempted to limit the role of the diocesan authorities to verifying that candidates had the necessary education and ordination. However, due to local conditions—for example, in Siberia—the shortage of candidates was so severe that bishops were pleased with anyone chosen by the community [1046] . Parish elections persisted the longest in Little Russia, where the structure of parishes was more robust than in Great Russia. There, the parish community (parokhiya) had long regarded the election of clergy as its inalienable right. Furthermore, the qualifications of candidates were scrutinized much more rigorously there than in Great Russia.

While we are generally well-informed about the procedure for parish elections in Ukraine, according to P. Znamensky, there is only scant data available regarding Great Russia in this regard. “The clerical rank of ‘ ’ in the Southwestern Region remained open to all for a long time even in the 18th century. Along with idle priests’ sons and deacons from neighboring parishes, as well as students from the Kyiv Academy, the Pereyaslav Seminary, and the Kharkiv College, the candidates for the vacant positions always included literate people from the laity—peasants, townspeople, and Cossacks”[1047] . Unable to abolish parish elections, the Metropolitans of Kyiv—for example, Raphael Zaborovsky (1731–1747) and Arsenius Mogilyansky (1757–1779), had to content themselves with requiring candidates to provide proof of having reached the appropriate age (30 years for priests and 25 for deacons) and of impeccable moral character. In addition, Arsenius required the communities to present him with several candidates from whom to choose [1048] . A representative of the metropolitan was present at the elections to oversee their conduct and report information about the candidates to the metropolitan. The training of candidates (appointees) was conducted by special examiners, or instructors, mostly learned monks, and lasted, depending on the candidate’s abilities, three months or even longer [1049] . The candidate would appear at the diocesan administration with a contract he had concluded with the parish community, and after passing the exam, he would receive a letter of appointment and ordination from the bishop [1050] . In churches located on landowners’ estates, the election of clergy by the parish assembly (community) was impossible, since the right to fill positions there belonged to the landowner, and the diocesan administration had to take him into account. The election of deacons—whose salaries could be covered only by wealthy parishes—was a much simpler process: if the elected candidate had already been ordained, the procedure was considered complete without the approval of the diocesan administration or even the parish priest. Candidates who had not yet been ordained, after passing an examination, received a certificate of appointment from the diocesan administration, which—just like the corresponding certificate for priests—had to include a note confirming payment of the appointment fee. The appointment of deacons (who corresponded to the Great Russian “prichetniki”) in Ukraine was the responsibility of the parishes, whereas in Great Russia their positions were included in the official staffing lists and filled at the discretion of the bishops. Along with his direct duties as a reader and cantor, the deacon also performed other functions in many places, such as serving as a teacher in the parish school. Furthermore, following the Catholic model, he might also serve the parish priest. Members of the clergy only rarely sought this position, which was typically filled by laypeople of the most diverse backgrounds [1051] . A distinctive feature of Ukrainian dioceses was the presence of vicar priests, who were appointed to assist in the ministry either by the parish priests themselves or (after the introduction of the principle of hereditary succession) by the priest’s widow until her son reached the age of majority. In the first case, the vicar could expect to receive one-third or one-quarter of the income; in the second, one-half. This matter was regulated by a private agreement, without the involvement of the diocesan administration and often even without the involvement of the parish community, which was interested only in the actual performance of the priest’s duties [1052] .

Even before the establishment of the Holy Synod, Peter I, by a decree dated April 25, 1711, ordered the Holy Council, in conjunction with the Senate, to examine the issue of filling positions in parishes in order to reduce the number of clergy and church ministers. The aforementioned bodies resolved to require candidates to submit a written guarantee from members of the congregation confirming their election to a particular parish position [1053] . This constituted a direct legal recognition of the parishes’ right to elect their clergy. In the second part of the “Spiritual Regulations,” in § 8 of the section “Lay Persons, insofar as they are involved in spiritual instruction,” it is also stated: “When parishioners or landowners living on their estates elect a man in their church to be a priest, they must attest in their report that he is a man of good character and beyond reproach.” However, a series of Peter the Great’s decrees [1054] limited the pool of potential candidates to those who had completed a full course of study at a theological educational institution. In one of the decrees of 1722 and in the “Addendum to the Ecclesiastical Regulations,” among the general rules for filling vacancies, it is stated that the candidates’ qualifications must be confirmed in the affidavits [1055] . However, this right to elect was soon supplanted by the entrenched custom of hereditary succession to church offices [1056] . “By the end of the 18th century, a firm conviction had already taken hold among the hierarchy that parish elections were an illegal phenomenon and harmful to the Church”[1057] . Under the influence of peasant unrest, in which, according to some reports, the clergy was also implicated, the Holy Synod issued a decree in 1797 appointing graduates of theological institutions to parish priest positions, and in June of the same year—a decree to the bishops declaring invalid those articles of the “Spiritual Regulations” that referred to the election of parish clergy [1058] . Now, a parish would provide its candidate with a written attestation of his good character, after which the matter was referred to the bishop’s discretion [1059] . However, as a rule, parishes did not even have to nominate their own candidates, since by the end of the 18th century, bishops already had a sufficient selection of seminary graduates at their disposal. Therefore, the parishes’ vetting process was officially abolished by a decree of 1815 [1060] . The final blow came in 1841 with the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, which transferred the filling of parish positions, as well as the ordination of priests, to the direct authority of the diocesan bishop. Thus, the elective principle was definitively abolished (Art. 74; Art. 70 in the 1883 edition).

c) Not only the clergy itself but also the diocesan authorities had a direct interest in the hereditary system of filling vacancies. Therefore, this practice began to develop as early as the 17th century. “As for the hereditary nature of the clerical ministry… by the 18th century it was already sufficiently developed and firmly established, so that its further development directly led to the exclusion from church service of all outside candidates of non-clerical origin and to the complete insularity of the clerical rank itself… Above all, its development was aided by the ecclesiastical authorities, who always viewed the children of the clergy as better prepared than others—and, moreover, as their own candidates for church positions”[1061] . Peter’s idea regarding the necessity of a school education [1062] , which was also reflected in the “Spiritual Regulations” under the section “Matters of the Bishops” (Art. 9), was further developed in subsequent decrees in the form of a provision stating that a candidate with such an education should be preferred over a candidate without an education, even if the latter had been elected [1063] . Thus, the state accommodated the bishops’ wishes by allowing seminary graduates—the overwhelming majority of whom belonged to the clergy—to fill vacancies . Until the 1730s, there were not enough theological schools to educate all the sons of clergymen. Moreover, parents often sought to spare their children the drudgery of schooling themselves; therefore, at first, the link between inheriting a position and having an education was not universal. But later it became self-evident, leading to the formation of a closed clergy class [1064] .

The decrees of Peter I’s successors—and above all those of Anna Ioannovna—were aimed at limiting or even reducing the size of the clergy, and thus contributed to its insularity. In 1744, the Holy Synod petitioned Empress Elizabeth for a decree stipulating that parish positions were to be filled exclusively by members of the clergy, and their sons—who, during the conscription drives (so-called “razbory”) common at that time, were called up for state service—would not be subject to secular administration and, consequently, would not leave the clerical class [1065] . The Holy Synod very effectively argued for this provision on the grounds that, if a church vacancy were filled by the son of a serf, the state would lose a payer of the poll tax [1066] . This fiscal perspective seemed convincing to the state, since the clergy were indeed exempt from the poll tax. As a result, in 1744, the sons of clergymen—most of whom were required to pay taxes—were prohibited from holding clerical positions even after graduating from seminary [1067] . The sons of clergymen, however, even if they performed the duties of clergy, remained exempt from the poll tax, and their sons, in turn, could again qualify for priestly office. In 1774, the Holy Synod sought to counteract the growing tendency of tax-paying clergy and their sons to seek church offices by issuing a strict decree stipulating that only the sons of clergy listed on the official rolls were to be appointed to church offices [1068] .

The state considered itself entitled to recruit members of the clergy for its own purposes. For example, Catherine II ordered that students be selected from the Moscow and Kiev Theological Academies for the Medical-Surgical Academy. Using the same coercive quotas, students were recruited for Moscow University and teachers for secular schools [1069] . The provincial reform of 1775 forced the government to urgently staff its administrative offices with students from seminaries and theological academies. In 1779, an additional decree was issued, in agreement with the diocesan bishops, to assign “surplus” sons of clergymen, as well as seminarians up to the rhetoric class, to clerical service [1070] . Many gifted young men willingly responded to such recruitment drives and quickly advanced in the civil service. Under Paul I (1797), “surplus” clergy were called up for military service to be of use “following the example of the ancient Levites, who took up arms to defend their fatherland.” At the same time, Paul I forbade bishops from releasing clergy or their sons—as well as students in the philosophy and theology departments of academies—from the clerical estate without the emperor’s consent [1071] . Returning to the clerical rank after having left it—even as early as the beginning of Alexander I’s reign—was extremely difficult or even impossible due to resistance from the Holy Synod. The situation of those who had left the clerical estate and become subject to taxation was improved thanks to special measures taken by the state. Thus, in 1810, an imperial decree prohibited their conversion into serfs owned by private landowners; moreover, landowners were initially issued a conscription receipt for the emancipation of each serf who had originally belonged to the clergy, meaning that the emancipated person counted toward the landowner’s conscription quota (see item d). One of the decrees of 1820 granted those freed from serfdom the right to freely choose their occupation and even to return to the clergy. This provision was incorporated into the Code of Laws of 1832 (Vol. 9, Art. 271). However, it was difficult to exercise this right, since, due to a surplus of clergy during the reign of Nicholas I, the Holy Synod was reluctant to approve such a return in each specific case, especially since the new staffing regulations of 1842–1846 provided for a reduction in the number of positions and parishes, and the 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories allowed for balancing the number of candidates for parish positions across dioceses (Art. 79; Art. 75 in the 1883 edition)[1072] .

Resolving the issue of clergy was delayed and constantly complicated by fiscal considerations. Ultimately, a provision was included in the Code of Laws (Vol. 9, Art. 193) stating that “persons subject to taxation, including freedmen, are admitted to the white clergy only upon certification by the diocesan authorities of a shortage of clergy within their jurisdiction to fill such positions”. However, the legal status of clergy remained so unfavorable that there could be no question of voluntary candidates for these positions from among those exempt from taxation, since even becoming a priest was a step that only idealists dared to take: according to the law on estates in the 1832 Code of Laws, joining the clerical estate meant renouncing the ranks obtained during civil or military service. Anyone who had received personal nobility through civil service lost it [1073] .

It was not until the 1860s that the closed nature of the clerical estate was broken. The Special Commission for Investigating Ways to Secure the Livelihood of the Clergy, established in 1862 under the Holy Synod, was tasked with reviewing the legal status of the clergy. In 1867, the hereditary succession of clerical offices was abolished. Four years earlier, graduates of theological seminaries had been granted access to universities. A veritable exodus to secular educational institutions began: by 1878, 46% of all students were former seminarians. However, a shortage of candidates for church offices and unrest at universities led to the repeal of the aforementioned law in 1879. The 1864 Gymnasium Charter permitted the sons of clergy to enroll in gymnasiums, while the 1867 Charters for Theological Schools and Seminaries, in turn, granted them the right to attend secular schools. The 1864 Law on Local Self-Government, based on parish land ownership, granted the clergy the right to participate in estate- and curial-based elections and to be elected to local self-government bodies [1074] . According to the opinion of the State Council of May 26, 1869, approved by Emperor Alexander II, and its supplement of March 15, 1871, all non-clergymen—including both priests and church ministers—along with their descendants were excluded from the clerical estate. At the same time, the law granted this group voluntary access to church offices. On March 21, 1871, persons of all estates were finally permitted to hold church offices. The sons of priests could be granted personal nobility, while the sons of church ministers could be granted personal honorary citizenship [1075] .

In essence, these reforms did little to serve the interests of the hierarchy, which as early as the 18th century had sought to isolate the clerical class by granting the offspring of the clergy a monopoly on education in theological schools. The exception was the theological schools in Ukraine, where—especially at the Kharkiv College—young men from noble families were educated; such schools enjoyed the full support of the nobility. However, even here, with the opening of gymnasiums in the early years of Alexander I’s reign, the number of students from non-clerical classes began to decline. The decrees on the reform of clerical schools from 1808 to 1814 required all sons of clergymen to attend such schools, so that others could not gain admission due to a lack of available spots. Placing the growing number of graduates became an almost insurmountable problem, especially after the number of parishes and permanent positions was reduced under the staffing regulations of 1842–1846. It is true that in 1832, access to public service was made easier for graduates of theological schools, and in the 1840s, the Synod abolished compulsory attendance at theological schools. As already mentioned, the 1860s saw the elimination of all restrictions contained in the charters of educational institutions. When, in 1879, seminarians were once again barred from enrolling in universities, they flocked to military academies, which had been open to them since 1866. Alexander III restored seminarians’ right to enroll in universities, though he limited it to the universities in Tomsk and Warsaw [1076] .

The isolation of the estates was also maintained by the hereditary system of filling parish positions (abolished in the 1860s), which coexisted quite well with the principle of electing the clergy. The clergy sought to prepare their sons as their successors through home education so that, provided they maintained good relations with the parish, they could secure consent for their election in advance. This circumstance is already noted in the “Addendum to the Ecclesiastical Regulations” (Art. 27): “In many parishes, the priest does not admit outsiders into the clergy, but fills the positions of that ministry with his own sons and relatives.” At the same time, it was stipulated that this kind of succession be permitted only when there was a genuine need and with the consent of the parish; moreover, only one of the priest’s sons could become a member of the clergy, and no more [1077] . Appointing the sons of parish priests as clergy members in the same parish increased the family’s income, since new members of the clergy received their share for performing religious services. By securing a position as a member of the clergy for his son in a timely manner and taking charge of his education, the priest spared him from the hated seminary. By the age of 25, a member of the clergy often became a deacon, and by 30, under favorable circumstances, a second priest. The government, which was thus losing taxpayers, did not approve of the constant growth of the clergy and, for a full century and a half—from the reign of Peter I until the 1830s—waged a relentless struggle against this trend [1078] . The recruitment of members of the clergy into government service, however, did from time to time significantly reduce its numbers, which forced diocesan bishops to request permission from the Holy Synod to fill church positions with individuals from other social classes [1079] . However, thanks to the large families of the parish clergy, the temporary shortage of candidates was quickly remedied, and the principle of hereditary succession was restored. The appointment of members of parish clergy families as church ministers and clergymen was discontinued only with the establishment of parish staff positions in 1764.[1080]

Over time, it became common for clergymen—and sometimes church officials—to build residential homes or outbuildings on church land at their own expense. Upon retirement, this private property was sold to the successor, unless it passed by inheritance to another family member. As early as the Council of 1667, efforts were made to combat this practice. Peter I, through two decrees issued in 1718 , prohibited the construction of private homes on church land and required parishes to build housing for the clergy themselves. However, this regulation was enforced only in St. Petersburg, the tsar’s new capital, which was undergoing rapid construction. In the Moscow Diocese, too, attempts were made to establish fixed prices for private buildings in order to spare newly appointed clergy from having to purchase their predecessor’s residence at inflated prices. Diocesan bishops and the Holy Synod fought against such abuses for decades. In 1768, the Holy Synod attempted, by decree, to set the sale price of real estate based on the length of service of the deceased owner. Furthermore, the proceeds obtained in this manner were permitted to be used only for the benefit of widows and orphans, whereas heirs who already had a place to live could claim only compensation for construction costs [1081] .

Beginning in 1767, and especially after the Synodal Decree of 1770, the official registration of vacancies began with the aim of securing them for the orphaned children of their last owners while the heirs were still in school. It is noteworthy that the decree also took female orphans into account, so that a father’s ecclesiastical position was viewed, in a certain sense, as a dowry [1082] . In the interim, the vacant position was filled by a vicar, who was required to contribute a certain percentage of his income to the seminary where the scholarship student was studying. By the end of the 18th century, some seminaries had as many as 100–200 such registered students [1083] .

This hereditary system continued into the 19th century. “It is no exaggeration to say that, of all members of the white clergy who have taken up positions over the past 20–25 years, there are scarcely 120 who would have been appointed to completely vacant positions—that is, without any obligations to the predecessor’s family or without marrying the young woman for whom the position was granted”[1084] . The approach of the diocesan bishops to this issue was marked by a striking caste-like mentality: seeking to preserve social equilibrium within the clerical class, they encouraged candidates for vacant positions to marry not merely the daughters of clergymen (which was to be expected), but the daughters of clergymen of the same rank, and preferably orphans [1085] .

The aforementioned decree of May 22, 1867, which abolished the system of hereditary succession and the closed nature of the clergy, contained the following provisions: 1) when filling vacant positions, a candidate’s kinship with his predecessor does not grant him any advantages; 2) registering and reserving vacancies for the benefit of the daughters or other relatives of the clergyman who previously held the position is prohibited; 3) registration is not permitted even if the candidate undertakes to support the family of the deceased clergyman or to pay them a portion of his income; 4) It is prohibited to create new positions in parishes for relatives of a deceased clergyman; 5) The support of needy members of the clergy must be provided by other means. Orphans from the clergy are placed in educational institutions at public expense [1086] . The Code of Laws (1876 edition) permitted persons from all social classes to enter the ranks of the white clergy (Vol. 9, Art. 193); their educational level was subject to verification by diocesan bishops (Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories, 1883, Art. 76). Individuals from the tax-paying classes were admitted: 1) when there was a shortage of candidates from other classes; 2) if they possessed the required education; 3) if they had a certificate of exemption from the tax rolls (Vol. 9, Art. 366). “The insularity of the clergy is a drawback, and filling the clergy with individuals from all social classes is all the more desirable,” wrote I. S. Aksakov even earlier, before the 1867 decree [1087] However, in practice, cases of individuals from other social classes joining the ranks of the clergy remained extremely rare exceptions until the very end of the Synodal period.

d) Given that the Holy Synod carried out the directive to draw up accurate staffing estimates for church parishes in a very indecisive and sluggish manner, Peter I had already sought to reduce the size of the clerical class by recruiting members of it into state, military, or civil service, as well as by transferring individuals of clerical rank to the tax-paying estates. Peter’s successors employed the same methods, achieving temporary success but ultimately failing to resolve the problem of the surplus clergy in principle. There are no statistical data on the white clergy (priests and church ministers) for the early 18th century [1088] . The number of parishes was extremely large, and they differed greatly from one another in terms of the number of parishioners and clergy. Often, small parishes had more clergy than large ones—not infrequently as many as 5–7 or even more priests, with a corresponding number of church servants. Moreover, they were all surrounded by a large extended family, which, as a rule, was supported at the parish’s expense [1089] . Thus, the problem of supporting the clergy was closely linked to the disparity—already evident in the 18th century—between the large size of the clergy and the actual needs of the Church (see Chapter 2).

The first measures taken by Peter I in this regard were prompted by the need to replenish the army during the Swedish War. Beginning in 1705, conscription began to take place on the estates of bishops and monasteries. The sons of priests and church ministers, as well as their relatives who had not previously been subject to taxation, were conscripted. In 1708, conscription was extended to those who evaded compulsory education in theological schools. The results of these measures convinced the tsar that the clergy was numerically excessive and prompted him to take the first steps in 1711 to rectify the situation. Examinations for candidates for parish positions became stricter, and appointments beyond what was necessary were prohibited [1090] . The text of the bishop’s oath, approved in 1716, contained a pledge not to build new churches “on a whim” and not to appoint clergy beyond what was necessary [1091] . In 1718, a decree was issued prohibiting private chapels and the appointment of priests to serve in them. Exceptions were made only for members of the royal family and a few senior clergymen. In addition, it was necessary to establish the minimum number of households required to establish a parish [1092] . The 1719 census was followed by conscription among the clergy themselves [1093] . The 1718 decree, under which the poll tax was extended to certain members of the clergy, was confirmed in 1722 and supplemented with detailed instructions. It states: “Upon the Senate’s report and opinion, archpriests, priests, and deacons—those who are currently serving in churches—and their children shall not be included in the poll tax roll during the census, since they are to serve as deacons and sextons at those churches, teach in schools from among their ranks, and be promoted to vacant positions as priests and deacons”[1094] . The decree precisely specified the conditions under which membership in the clerical class would be determined. The decree’s intent was clear: a radical reduction in the number of parish clergy [1095] . A supplementary decree of the Senate from the same year stipulated that only two sons of a clergyman were exempt from the poll tax and could (including their descendants) belong to the clerical class [1096] . However, the practical implementation of these decisions left much to be desired.

The first staffing regulations approved by Peter, drawn up by the Holy Synod for parishes in 1722, defined the composition of the parish clergy in both capitals. According to these regulations, parishes with 100–150 households could not have more than one priest. Parishes with 200–250 households were to have two priests each. Parishes with 250–300 households were permitted to have three priests, but only if the households were located at a great distance from one another or if a third priest was necessary for some other reason. No more than two deacons were allowed per parish. A parish could not have fewer than 100 households, nor more than 300. There were to be no more than two clergymen per priest [1097] . According to the 1722 audit, conducted on August 10 prior to the publication of the decree itself, there were 67,111 clergymen in 15,761 churches [1098] . The surplus was evident, especially since a significant portion of the clergy had avoided registration [1099] . After 1722, clergymen who were not included in the official rolls, provided they had sufficient education, were given positions as teachers in theological schools. Many clergymen who remained outside the official rolls were registered as taxpayers, provided they did not enter military service or work in government offices [1100] . Due to misunderstandings and the excessive zeal of the officers conducting the registration, individuals exempt from the poll tax often appeared on the tax rolls, which led to a series of legal complaints. Furthermore, in 1724, a shortage of candidates for parish positions was discovered, and the Holy Synod was forced to ask the tsar for permission to appoint priests and deacons from among literate peasants [1101] .

After Peter’s death, with Catherine I’s permission dated November 25, 1725, many house chapels reopened in Moscow. That same year, bishops were granted the right to establish new parishes. However, the decree of December 16, 1743, regarding the second revision again insisted on strict adherence to the 1722 staffing lists and prohibited the construction of new churches [1102] .

The distrust that Anna Ioannovna and her favorites harbored toward the Orthodox clergy led to another round of extremely harsh conscription drives among the clergy, linked to the so-called “oath cases.” According to the manifesto of February 20, 1730, the clergy were not required to take the oath, which took place only later at the initiative of Theophan Prokopovich. In December 1731, to eliminate any doubts or speculation, the empress demanded that the clergy take the oath again. Theophanes considered it his duty to publish in 1731 “A Discourse on the Oath, or Vow: Is It Proper for Christians to Swear an Oath or Make a Vow by Almighty God,” in order to dispel all doubts among the clergy who had previously refused to take the oath. Theophanes sought to prove that all loyal subjects were obligated to take an oath of allegiance to the autocrat [1103] . Soon, trials began in the Secret Chancellery against those who had refused to take the oath, involving no fewer than 5,000 clergymen. In 1735, the Holy Synod issued an order requiring candidates for church offices to confirm the oaths they had taken in 1730 and 1731.[1104] The large number of refuseniks heightened the government’s suspicion toward the clergy and led to outright persecution, which began with the conscription drives. Difficulties in recruiting soldiers during the Turkish War, which began in 1736, prompted the Senate to send a memorandum to the Holy Synod demanding the recruitment of 7,000 conscripts from among the clergy. This was followed by an imperial decree to the Holy Synod dated September 28, 1736, ordering a complete census of the sons of priests and church ministers, down to “even the very youngest infants,” including those exempt from the poll tax. The sick and the disabled were to be marked separately. Those unfit for service were assigned to chancelleries as messengers and , etc.; those fit for service were appointed as clerks and sent to garrison schools. Only as many people as were listed in the 1722 staffing rosters were to be retained at churches. The decree of September 28, 1736, did not apply to Ukraine or the Don Army region [1105] . In the very first year following this decree, 6,557 men were conscripted. As early as September 7, 1737, another decree was issued, demanding the accelerated conscription of the remaining men and reiterating the age requirements for clergy: 30 years for priests and 25 for deacons. All able-bodied men between the ages of 15 and 40 who did not hold a permanent position were subject to immediate military conscription. The clergy’s situation worsened when reports began to reach the Cabinet of Ministers regarding the large number of disabled and elderly individuals discovered during the screening process. A decree dated January 22, 1738, required anyone unfit for service to provide a recruit in his place; otherwise, as stated in a supplementary decree, he was to be exiled to Siberia. Based on a decree from June of that same year, new conscriptions followed. Then, on July 1 and December 2, 1738, decrees were issued ordering the conscription of all those who, although listed on the rolls, had at one time refused to take the oath, even if they had reached the age of 40. This was followed by a wave of repression—dismissals from service, corporal punishment, and legal prosecutions—which spread as far as Ukraine [1106] .

Recruitment continued throughout the Turkish War and did not end until 1740. By that time, it had become clear that the ranks of the clergy had been catastrophically depleted: in many dioceses, churches were left entirely without priests. The Holy Synod reported this state of affairs to the government, along with the shortage of candidates for parish positions, and requested permission to ordain as priests individuals who lacked formal theological education but were of good character. The report was supplemented with data on the numerical composition of the active clergy, as well as the clergy as a whole, and was implemented. In 1740, permission was granted to reinstate clergy who had been punished for refusing to take the oath, and to exempt from conscription those clergy who were subject to conscription but had not yet been drafted into military service [1107] .

Elizabeth’s accession to the throne was joyfully welcomed by the clergy and did indeed bring them some relief, although the basic principles of government policy toward the clergy established by Peter remained unchanged. The decree of December 16, 1743, on the second general review, which provided for the registration of the clergy to ensure their compliance with the staffing norms of 1722, met with objections from the Holy Synod, which pointed out that the purges under Anna Ioannovna had so drastically reduced the clergy that many church positions remained unfilled. Later, in 1754, a joint conference of the Senate and the Holy Synod resolved: 1) priests and church ministers, as well as their sons, who were exempt from the poll tax, were to fill church vacancies in accordance with the 1722 staffing lists; 2) dioceses with a surplus of qualified candidates were required to transfer them to those dioceses experiencing a shortage; 3) other members of the clergy and their children were to be registered as poll tax payers with landowners, urban craft guilds, or factories, according to their free choice. The rest were conscripted into military service. The conference insisted on a comprehensive census of the entire clergy so that, following this review, the composition of the parish clergy would precisely correspond to the 1722 staffing levels.[1108] In 1755, a decree was issued regarding itinerant clergy, whose numbers had risen sharply as a result of the preceding reviews. Despite the decisions of the second conference of the Senate and the Holy Synod, held in 1756 under the chairmanship of the Empress herself, these measures continued to be implemented in a highly haphazard manner and had still not been completed by the time of Elizabeth’s death. It is extremely difficult to assess their consequences. It remains unclear how it was possible to assign such a large number of clergy to other estates, given that as early as 1769 the Holy Synod noted a massive shortage of parish clergy: the number of vacancies approached 12,626 [1109] .

One can agree with P. Znamensky’s view that all government measures in the post-Peter era introduced nothing new and were based on the principles of Peter’s reforms [1110] . New approaches emerged only during the reign of Catherine II, when the Commission on Church Estates, while discussing their impending secularization, was also tasked with resolving the issue of the maintenance of church institutions (monasteries, diocesan administrations, and certain churches) and the staffing of parishes. The imperial decree concluding the commission’s work focused specifically on the issue of supporting the secular clergy. In connection with the census—which had been planned under Peter III but carried out under Catherine II—the threat of a new conscription arose. No official order had yet been issued on this matter, but the government had already demanded precise data on the white clergy from local authorities [1111] . The records for 1768 were to include information on the number of active clergy and church ministers, as well as their families and the number of students in theological schools. Due to a shortage of recruits during the war with Turkey, the government issued an order in 1769 for a new military draft, despite a report from the Holy Synod regarding the enormous number of unfilled church vacancies. In doing so, local authorities were required to re-verify the 1768 data on the ages of clergymen’s sons—which was often inaccurate—by proceeding as follows: 1) Men between the ages of 15 and 40 were considered subject to military service; 2) one in four sons of active clergy and one in two sons of non-active clergy were conscripted, as well as one in two of those whose age had been underreported (allegedly under 15); 3) seminary students, as well as family members supporting elderly parents, were exempt from conscription [1112] . These rules, which were already quite lenient, were not enforced very strictly. Many who were deemed unfit for military service during medical examinations were not transferred, as had been the case previously, to the taxable classes, but were returned to the Holy Synod for appointment to church offices. However, the numerous petitions from those who had previously been assigned to the tax-paying classes, requesting a return to the clergy, were invariably rejected; a special decree was even issued prohibiting anyone from leaving the tax-paying classes [1113] .

New provinces, the need for which had become clear as early as 1764, were not established until 1778. Compared to the provinces of 1722, the Empress’s decree called for a significant reduction in the number of clergy. This was linked to the 1775 Charter on Provinces, according to which the newly formed administrative offices required a large number of literate people; only the clergy could provide such a large number. The 1778 staffing regulations, which also applied to the Little Russian provinces, stipulated the following quotas: 1) one priest for every 150 households; 2) one priest for 200 or more households, or two in special cases; 3) two priests for 250–300 households; 4) in larger parishes—three priests, but only in cases of special need. For every three priests, there were to be two deacons; for every two priests, one deacon. Only in large cities was each priest entitled to one deacon. The opening of new churches and home chapels was permitted only with the approval of the Holy Synod [1114] .

The regulations adopted in 1778 by no means signaled the end of the government’s policy aimed at reducing the size of the clergy. The 1782–1783 census provided, among other things, new data on the clergy, which was submitted for consideration to a joint conference of the Senate and the Holy Synod in 1784. According to these figures, there were 84,131 clergymen on the payroll and 9,548 vacancies. According to the conference’s decree, these vacancies were to be filled by the 1,540 priests and church ministers who had been listed as non-staff members since 1778, as well as by the sons of the regular clergy. In the future, candidates for church positions were to be graduates of seminaries or theological schools, of whom, according to the aforementioned data, there were 11,329; at the same time, the sons of those who had previously been classified as part of the tax-paying categories of the population were not excluded. Sons of clergymen who had no education were removed from the clerical estate upon reaching the age of 15, but had the right to freely choose their occupation—in urban guilds, among the merchant class, or as state peasants. Sick and elderly priests were dismissed from their official posts and became dependent on their children for support; the latter were granted the right to leave the clerical class if they did not hold a church office. The same applied to church ministers and their sons. Those who had already become taxpayers could not change their status. Seminary rectors were required to select students suitable for civil service and send them to government offices or to serve as teachers in public schools [1115] . The particular significance of the 1784 decree lay in the fact that it provided broader opportunities for those wishing to leave the clergy and choose a secular profession. The number of permanent positions specified in the decree—93,679—provides a reliable basis for church statistics [1116] .

Under Paul I, Catherine II’s overly liberal provisions were revised. In 1796, a new military draft was conducted among the clergy on the grounds that the sons of many clergymen were living idly with their parents, contributing nothing to society. Based on the results of the examination, some were sent to fill vacant positions in parishes, while the rest—"following the example of the ancient Levites"—were sent into military service. At the same time, decrees were issued that made it difficult to leave the clerical estate, which soon led once again to its oversupply [1117] . As it turned out by the beginning of Alexander I’s reign, due to the vague wording in the texts of the decrees, conscription had taken on a completely haphazard character. In 1803, Alexander I once again permitted all those without a permanent position to leave the clerical estate, but in 1806 he ordered that clergymen and their sons who were out of work be conscripted into military service. However, in the years that followed—even in 1812—Alexander I’s government no longer resorted to conscription from the clergy [1118] . The last conscription took place under Nicholas I in 1831, after the clergy’s numbers had once again grown too large due to measures restricting departure from the clergy. The draft did not affect regions with a chronic shortage of candidates for parish positions (Siberia, the Caucasus, Poland, and the Olonets and Astrakhan dioceses). Based on a report requested in advance by the Holy Synod, a decree was issued in 1831 calling the following persons to military service: 1) all clergymen of bad conduct; 2) the sons of politically unreliable clergymen; 3) clergymen removed from office by a diocesan court; 4) all members of the clergy who had lost their positions as a result of various offenses; 5) others listed as clergy who, upon review, were found to be unfit for their positions. Men over the age of 35 were assigned to garrison duty [1119] . Exceptions were made for students at theological schools and seminary graduates. Every priest had the right to keep one of his sons with him to provide for his support in old age.

With the aim of improving the financial situation of the parish clergy, as early as 1828 the government required the Holy Synod to merge small, impoverished communities into larger parishes that would not require subsidies. Then, in 1838, a special committee was formed to discuss issues regarding the support of impoverished clergy and the review of staffing levels. Finally, in 1841, the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories was issued, which, among other things, contained precise guidelines regarding the filling of parish vacancies, as well as instructions for establishing staffing levels in parishes. The implementation of the new staffing levels in 1842 began in the western dioceses. All parish churches were divided into six classes:

1) parishes with 2,000 parishioners or more: 2 priests, 1 deacon,

3 church ministers

2) parishes with 1,500–2,000 parishioners: 2 priests, 1 deacon,

2 church ministers

3) parishes with 1,000–1,500 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 deacon,

1 church worker

4) parishes with 700–1,000 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 deacon,

1 church worker

5) parishes with 400–700 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 deacon,

1 church attendant

6) parishes with fewer than 400 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 church minister

At the same time, measures were taken to merge small parishes into larger ones, as provided for by the decree of 1828. After the treasury assumed responsibility in 1829 for paying subsidies to the clergy of poor parishes (an amount of half a million rubles was immediately set to be paid out a year later), the state had a direct interest in reducing the number of such parishes. However, population growth and the empire’s territorial acquisitions made it impossible to carry out this plan. In the Asian and European borderlands, it became necessary to establish numerous new parishes, which were initially sparsely populated and required financial support. From that point on, the construction of new churches and the establishment of new parishes increasingly hinged on the issue of financial support for the clergy.

The 1869 regulations, established by the Holy Synod, approved by the emperor, and supplemented in 1871, provided for a reduction in the number of parishes and clergy. The standard was one priest and one church servant per parish. Small parishes were merged into larger ones. Deacons were excluded from the staffing regulations. They could transition to the position of psalm readers or continue serving off the payroll, at the community’s expense. Parishes had the right, if they so desired, to employ cantors as well; however, these were not considered part of the clergy [1120] . The resulting reduction in the number of clergy led to a weakening of pastoral activity in the parishes and, from this perspective, was an irresponsible move. Its objectives were purely fiscal, and it was undertaken by Synodal bureaucrats who had little understanding of the needs of church parishes. Funds to support the parish clergy could undoubtedly have been found, for example, by cutting excessive budget items in the Holy Synod’s own budget pertaining to the salaries of hierarchs. However, the Synod bishops had absolutely no interest in doing so. According to reports from the chief prosecutors, 4,800 parishes were dissolved. Comparative statistics for 1869 and 1880 paint the following picture:

1869: Number of authorized positions | Actual number

priests 38,075 38,816

deacons 11,144 14,250

assistant clergy 68,461 63,472

By transferring “surplus” deacons to the lay clergy, the shortage in the latter was made up:

1880: Number of authorized positions | Actual number

priests 37,698 33,047

Deacons 3,054 7,646

Clergy members 47,219 48,518 [1121]

The shortage of priests was due to the reluctance of seminarians in the 1870s to serve in parishes. A great many of them enrolled in universities or preferred a career in the civil service, but they were particularly eager to attend military academies. Despite the decrease in the number of parishes, there were still not enough priests to serve them. Furthermore, it turned out that parishes could not manage without deacons and in many cases were forced to support them at their own expense.

In 1881, the Holy Synod was once again compelled to begin establishing subsidized parishes and reinstating priests and church ministers who had been removed from the clergy roster. In 1884–1885, the Holy Synod, with the participation of several diocesan bishops, discussed the issue of revising the staffing levels. On February 16, 1885, the new regulations were approved by the emperor. Under this procedure, diocesan bishops were granted the right, subject to the availability of funds and at their discretion, to restore parishes that had been abolished or consolidated, as well as to establish new ones in agreement with the Holy Synod. The following standards were established for all dioceses (except those in the West and Transcaucasia):

parishes with fewer than 700 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 cantor

more than 700 parishioners: 1 priest, 1 deacon

large parishes: 2 priests, 1–2 deacons, 2 cantors

The 1885 directives, the gradual implementation of which began in 1886, did not apply to cathedrals, churches in the capital, or churches attached to hospitals, schools, and the like. However, they stipulated that seminary graduates serving as deacons or cantors were also required to take on teaching duties in the new parish schools [1122] . As of 1888, parish churches had 40,235 priests, 11,682 deacons, and 43,570 cantors. Since then, no new regulations regarding the numerical composition of the clergy had been established, and diocesan bishops acted at their own discretion. The number of new churches grew, and with it, the number of clergy. Most of the new parishes were located in Siberia and other dioceses that were receiving an influx of settlers from Central Russia (for example, the Tobolsk, Tomsk, and Orenburg dioceses). The last report by the Chief Prosecutor, published in 1916, contains the following data for 1914: 749 cathedrals, 42,796 churches, and 23,593 chapels, with 3,246 archpriests, 47,829 priests, 13,035 deacons, and 46,489 cantors. This figure did not include the clergy of the imperial court, the army, and the navy [1123] .

d) There were cases when a diocesan court or the Holy Synod stripped a clergyman of his rank and expelled him, along with his descendants, from the clerical estate. Voluntary withdrawal from the estate was extremely difficult and occurred mostly among priests who had been widowed at an early age (see § 6). In the Muscovite state, even in the latter case, leaving one’s class was extremely rare, and such priests were considered outcasts in society. Bishops did not permit widowed priests to hold even the positions of church servants. If, however, a priest did not renounce his priesthood after his wife’s death, he was still forbidden to administer the sacraments until he decided to take monastic vows. It was only the Local Council of 1667 that permitted priests who had renounced their priesthood to serve as church attendants or to hold secular office [1124] .

In addition to these conciliar provisions, Peter I issued a decree on April 30, 1724, permitting widowed priests, after resigning their priesthood, to teach in schools or serve in the church administration. After Peter’s death, this decree was gradually forgotten, and diocesan bishops once again began to create obstacles to the voluntary resignation from the priesthood [1125] . It was not until the reign of Catherine II that the Holy Synod requested her confirmation of Peter’s decree; furthermore, in 1765, it prohibited diocesan bishops and diocesan courts from issuing sentences involving defrocking without the approval of the Holy Synod [1126] . Overall, this issue was discussed again by the Senate and the Synod in 1831–1832 in connection with the codification of laws under Nicholas I. As a result, a personal decree was issued on June 28, 1833, according to which priests who voluntarily resigned their priesthood, after a three-month period of reflection and following admonition by their ecclesiastical superiors, were granted the right—without losing their class privileges— academic degrees, and orders, to enter government service. However, in doing so, they lost all distinctions they had received during their ecclesiastical service [1127] . As early as February 22, 1839, in addition to this decree, the emperor personally issued another one, but with stricter regulations. Deacons were now permitted to enter public service only after six years, and priests only after ten years. These conditions were incorporated as amendments to the 1833 decree and into the Code of Laws (2nd ed.), as well as into the 1876 edition [1128] In 1860, the issue was again considered by the Synod, and Chief Prosecutor Count A. P. Tolstoy requested the opinion of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov. The latter forwarded to the Holy Synod a memorandum titled “A View on the Question of the Indelible Character of the Priesthood and Its Relationship to Ecclesiastical Judgment Over Clergy.” In it, he stated that “the expression ‘indelible character’ (character indelibilis, signum indelibile) in relation to the sacraments is found neither in Holy Scripture, nor in the Apostolic and Ecumenical Canons, nor in the writings of the ancient Holy Fathers. Originating in medieval scholasticism, it gained acceptance in the field of dogma in the West in the 16th century, at the Council of Trent.” It was subsequently used in Peter Mohyla’s “Orthodox Confession,” as well as in the 1723 Exposition of the Faith of the Eastern Patriarchs, in which, however, it refers only to the sacrament of baptism, which imprints an indelible seal upon the baptized. “The doctrine of the indelible character of the priesthood has not been incorporated into the dogmas of the Orthodox Catholic Church. And since it has not been incorporated into the dogmas, it should not be accepted as the basis for any other doctrine or rule for ecclesiastical judgment.” Furthermore, “deprivation of the priesthood is governed by a great many canons of the holy apostles, councils, and holy fathers. But just as deprivation of the priesthood is possible as a punishment for guilt, so too is the removal of the priesthood possible for valid reasons (i.e., at the request of the priest himself. – I. S.)… The possibility and necessity of removing the priesthood in certain cases can be considered proven… The expression “removal of the priesthood” is a milder term for “deprivation of the priesthood”… The person requesting the removal of the priesthood is guilty of violating the law of the priesthood and his own oath. From the foregoing, it must be fairly concluded that those from whom the priestly office is removed should not enjoy the same rights as completely innocent people… The law requires the addition that those born into the clergy, if their priestly office is removed, simultaneously transfer from the ecclesiastical jurisdiction to the secular one”[1129] . In a personal letter to the Chief Prosecutor, the metropolitan expresses the opinion that a priest who has lost his ordination should be required to leave his diocese for seven years, and a deacon for three years. After the three-year period, they could be accepted into government service. In one of his letters, Metropolitan Filaret again addresses the issue of widowed priests, maintaining that there are no obstacles preventing a widower from continuing his ministry, and that there is no justification for forcing him to renounce his ordination. He goes on to state the following verbatim: “During my 38 years of observing the clergy of Moscow, not a single widowed priest has been accused of immorality. In general, widowed archpriests and priests in Moscow are held in high regard, and some are even deeply respected for their moral integrity”[1130] .

Filaret rejected A. N. Muravyov’s proposal to permit the ordination of unmarried men as priests. This issue was not resolved until 1869: unmarried men over the age of 40 could be ordained as priests, but only on the condition that they permanently renounce marriage [1131] .

§ 14. Parish Clergy in State Legislation

a) Until the 18th century, all clergy, both Black and White, enjoyed a special legal status: they were subject exclusively to ecclesiastical administration and jurisdiction and were brought before state courts only for certain criminal offenses. Interference by state authorities in the decisions of ecclesiastical courts was extremely rare. Only expulsion from the ecclesiastical estate due to defrocking terminated these privileges of the clergy. The legislation of Peter I, who sought to draw all estates into state service, could not help but affect these privileges. Measures to reduce the size of the clergy, reinforce class exclusivity, and establish a hereditary system for filling parish positions led to a radical curtailment of these privileges. It was not until the 19th century that some relief was brought in this regard, although the clergy’s fully privileged status was never fully restored [1132] .

Peter I’s legislation placed greater emphasis on class-based obligations, taxes, and duties than on class-based rights. In Muscovite Russia, in accordance with general legal practice, only the land holdings of monasteries and archbishops’ estates were subject to taxation. In certain cases, specific royal charters granted permanent or temporary exemptions from taxes to particular monastic or patriarchal estates. However, beginning in the 16th century, the issuance of such tax-exemption charters increasingly became the exception; moreover, these charters were relatively rarely granted for church lands intended for the support of the white parish clergy. Although land registers do contain so-called “white”—that is, tax-exempt—lands assigned to parish churches, there were few of them, and they existed only in a handful of parishes. “Black” lands, i.e., those subject to taxation, remained so even if communities voluntarily set them aside for the support of the clergy. The state tax burden associated with “black” land also included additional taxes—for the ransom of captives, military expenses, the construction of fortresses, etc.—which the parish clergy also had to pay from their own lands [1133] . In view of the general increase in the tax burden at the beginning of the 18th century, the parish clergy were also required to pay “all sorts of petty levies”—mill, beekeeping, bathhouse, fire, and fishing fees, etc. The clergy were required to participate in guard duty at the city barriers and, until the decree of 1724, were not exempt from the detested military quartering. In practice, however, this decree was often not enforced, and even during the reign of Catherine II, the ecclesiastical authorities received bitter complaints about the continuing military quartering [1134] . The previously mentioned instances of the per capita tax being extended to members of clergy families in connection with property disputes placed an additional financial burden on the head of the household, since sons for the most part continued to live in their parents’ home. Along with general conscription drives, the sons of clergymen were also called upon to perform special duties—for example, in 1711 and 1718 as carpenters during the construction of the Admiralty, and in the 1720s as laborers at the Olonets factories. In some dioceses, the clergy also had to pay taxes for the construction of canals [1135] .

The 1720 decree introducing the poll tax also applied to the white clergy and their sons, with the exception of the clergy themselves, who were placed on a special list. All protests by the Holy Synod initially went unheeded, until finally, two years later, on April 4, 1722, an imperial decree was issued clarifying the legal misunderstandings [1136] . All active clergy and their family members were declared exempt from taxes; church officials who were not the sons of such clergy were required to pay the poll tax. In 1723, in connection with the salaries for parish clergy established by the Holy Synod, non-parish clergy were also exempted from the poll tax, but not their sons [1137] . Despite the fundamental importance of the decree of April 4, 1722, the legal status of the clergy remained unstable, as ongoing military conscription, particularly during the reign of Anna Ioannovna, “disrupted” the composition of the clerical class. Post-Peter legislation regarding the rights and duties of the clergy largely reflected the personal views of the sovereigns and was determined by immediate political needs. On the whole, however, the trend originating with Peter to limit the number of clergy as much as possible continued to prevail [1138] . Only the Code of Laws of 1832 brought clarity to the legal status of the clergy in the state.

Throughout Peter I’s reign, land taxes were collected from the parish clergy with great rigor. After the establishment of the Holy Synod, these functions were transferred to it. At first, in many dioceses, this led to double taxation: a government official would often follow the diocesan administration official. It was not until 1723 that the Holy Synod secured an imperial decree granting the collection of land taxes in all provinces exclusively to the church administration. Beginning in 1724, tax matters were definitively transferred to the jurisdiction of the Chamber Office of the Holy Synod [1139] .

Under Peter I, certain concessions were made to the clergy regarding the ownership of private property. Although, based on the conciliar decrees of the 17th century, the clergy were still prohibited from owning shops and, in general, from engaging in any kind of trade or distilling, the ban on using their own lands was lifted. However, all land-related taxes had to be paid in full [1140] . A completely new development was the clergy’s ability to own serfs. As early as the Conciliar Code of 1649 (Ch. 20, Art. 104), the clergy had been prohibited from acquiring estates and owning serfs. The imposition of a poll tax on clergy and the sons of clergymen often led to their registration with landowners or clergy on church lands. The clergy were responsible for ensuring that the registered individuals paid the poll tax. As a result, relationships resembling serfdom developed between them without any legal basis. It was only under Empress Anna Ioannovna that the authorities took notice of this phenomenon and clarified the situation: registered clergy and the sons of clergy did not belong to the clergy themselves but were tied to the land they used. However, among the Ukrainian clergy there were many who came from the szlachta and possessed hereditary lands and serfs. Until 1728, the clergy had the right to acquire landholdings there; linked to land ownership was the right to distill spirits, which remained in effect until 1751. The Ukrainian clergy attached great importance to these privileges and, in 1767, included a request for their restoration in the instructions to the representatives of the Holy Synod on the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws [1141] .

From the time of Peter I, the state’s desire to limit ecclesiastical jurisdiction began to manifest itself more and more strongly. Already in the Muscovite state, the granting of a charter of judicial immunity (the so-called “charter of immunity from prosecution”) for monastic and church estates meant the removal of monks, parish clergy, serfs, and peasants from the jurisdiction not only of local secular courts but also of ecclesiastical courts, and their subordination to the highest instance of the secular court in Moscow. Purely ecclesiastical matters, of course, were an exception. According to the Code of 1649, certain types of legal cases fell, in principle, under the exclusive jurisdiction of secular courts. Then, in 1650, the jurisdiction of the Monastic Office was extended to all church administration. Nevertheless, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich himself, in defiance of these laws, issued letters of immunity—which exempted them from secular jurisdiction—to the then-Metropolitan of Novgorod, and later to Patriarch Nikon, as well as to other bishops and monasteries in certain exceptional cases. And yet the hierarchs felt aggrieved, for they themselves, just like the lower clergy and church ministers, were required in certain cases to seek justice in secular courts. The Code of 1649, an “unlawful book” as Patriarch Nikon called it, seemed fundamentally unacceptable, and therefore the Local Councils of 1667 and 1675 very resolutely demanded its repeal and the restoration of ecclesiastical jurisdiction to its former scope. Indeed, beginning in 1667, the authority of the Monastic Office was curtailed, and in 1677 it once again became a financial institution tasked with safeguarding the interests of the treasury with regard to church estates. Ecclesiastical jurisdiction was restored and, in accordance with the decisions of the Councils of 1667 (Canons 37–38) and 1675, was also extended to particularly serious criminal offenses [1142] .

Peter I’s measures were, at first, nothing more than a return to the Code of 1649. The Chamber on the Code, established on February 18, 1700, was tasked with revising the text of 1649 and preparing a new version—a new code. However, the chamber’s work yielded no practical results. The articles on ecclesiastical jurisdiction, written by Patriarch Adrian as counterproposals to the chamber’s planned distinction between ecclesiastical and secular courts, represented a final attempt to defend comprehensive ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Beginning in 1700, tsarist decrees began to appear one after another, increasingly limiting the powers of the ecclesiastical court. In 1701, following the death of Patriarch Adrian, the Monastic Office was reinstated. Its jurisdiction was the same as in 1649, and it was tasked with handling all disputes between clergy and laity. The only exception was the territory directly administered by the locum tenens of the patriarchal throne. An expert on the history of the Monastic Office, such as M. Gorchakov, describes it as “an institution central to all of Russia within a special department, specifically dedicated to Peter’s reform goals regarding the Church”[1143] . With the establishment of the collegia—and above all, the Collegium of Justice—the Monastic Office became redundant, and on April 17, 1720, it was abolished [1144] . The clergy came under the jurisdiction of the local branches of the Collegium of Justice. Subsequently, upon the recommendation of the Holy Synod, the tsar restored ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the clergy, leaving only political crimes under the jurisdiction of the secular courts. Nevertheless, the actual situation of the clergy under Peter I and, in particular, under his successors was very difficult, as the decrees were constantly violated by local authorities. As P. Znamensky notes, it took the Holy Synod great effort to achieve the restoration of ecclesiastical jurisdiction in practice. Complaints about the interference of state authorities in the activities of ecclesiastical courts frequently reached the Synod [1145] . Under Peter I, clergy were very often summoned to secular courts. The state felt a shortage of bodies that could carry out reforms directly at the local level, and so the government began to entrust the clergy with many new functions that were not part of their traditional role. For this reason, the clergy found themselves in constant conflict with the law. The clergy’s new duties included exercising political control over the population. “The priest,” writes P. Znamensky, “became a police officer.” Confirmation of this view can be found in the “Additions Concerning the Clergy and Monks,” which served as a supplement to the “Spiritual Regulations.” According to this document, the clergy were tasked with monitoring schismatics: checklists of those who came to confession were used to identify schismatics (Ch. 1, Art. 5, 20; Chapter “On Presbyters,” Articles 16, 17, 20, 29); instances of superstition and cases of parishioners associating with schismatics were to be reported (Articles 12, 18, 19, 20). The clergy were required to swear an oath of allegiance to the emperor. In addition, the “Additions” regulated the relationship between the parish clergy and members of the community, as well as the clergy’s official duties and way of life (Articles 2, 28, 14, 15, 20–24). The clergy were entrusted with the following functions: supervising itinerant monks and priests without a fixed parish, participating in population registration during censuses, supervising midwives, and maintaining lists of mothers who died in childbirth [1146] . The fact that the clergy was, as it were, involuntarily made part of the state-police apparatus, which permeated all spheres of social life, undermined its authority and eroded parishioners’ trust in their pastors. State interference went so far that priests were forced, under threat of punishment, to violate the seal of confession if it became clear that the penitent or persons known to him were harboring “treason or rebellion against the sovereign or the state, or malicious intent against the honor or health of the sovereign and the name of His Majesty.” Priests were also required to report “words concerning the high honor of His Imperial Majesty and harmful to the state”[1147] . Theophan Prokopovich, in his *Spiritual Regulations*, attempted to prove that this did not constitute any violation of the seal of confession [1148] . Behind these demands from the state authorities stood the Preobrazhensky Order and, later, the Secret Chancellery, which had at their disposal a vast arsenal of means—including torture—to ensure that every interrogation resulted in a confession to a crime against the state. Priests who failed to report to the authorities any expressions of dissatisfaction with state decrees voiced during confession were considered accomplices to the crime [1149] .

Although the end of the war with Sweden in 1721 brought the clergy, like the rest of the people, relief from certain taxes and duties, during the reign of Anna Ioannovna, with the outbreak of the Turkish War of 1736–1739, the tax burden took on an unprecedentedly severe form. The empress’s and her favorites’ suspicion led to increased police surveillance, espionage, and denunciation; treason and hostility “toward Her Majesty’s person” were perceived everywhere. The Secret Chancellery was equally terrifying for both priests and the higher hierarchy. The parish clergy were defenseless against the abuses of local authorities [1150] . While the rights of the clergy were constantly overlooked, all manner of legislative restrictions on those rights were strictly enforced. Empress Anna Ioannovna’s suspicion of the clergy—all of whom, without exception, she regarded as politically unreliable and subject to close supervision by secular authorities— led, within just five years, to the dungeons of the Secret Chancellery becoming overcrowded, and the empress was forced to issue a special decree requiring that only matters of the utmost importance be reported to her henceforth. It was only with Elizabeth’s accession to the throne that the persecution of the clergy ceased [1151] .

But even during the reign of “the Meek Elizabeth,” the legal status of the clergy remained uncertain, although in practice it had improved. The so-called Elizabethan Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws, in its draft law on the estates (which, incidentally, was never approved by the Empress), overlooked the clerical estate, mentioning it only in passing in Chapter 2 of Part 3, under , under the heading “On Orthodox Christians and People of Other Faiths”; but even there, the discussion concerned only clergy of other faiths [1152] . The Holy Synod, which, following the abolition of the Secret Chancellery, was able to act more freely and even dared to enter into disputes with secular authorities, secured the Empress’s consent in 1742 to exempt the clergy from civil and police duties. A decree of 1746, among other things, also exempted the clergy from the burden of military quartering. One of the subsequent decrees prohibited the clergy from engaging in trade, acting as guarantors in court, lending money, and so on.[1153] During the second audit of 1744, the clergy’s exemption from taxes and duties was reaffirmed. Priests and deacons who had previously been subject to taxation were exempted from paying taxes along with their children born after their ordination. However, those subject to taxation who were ordained after the 1744 census were required to remain in their previous status until the next census. This exemption did not apply to clergy who paid the poll tax. The only exception was those clergy who, having been registered with landowners, subsequently received their freedom from them. Anna Ioannovna’s policies had so undermined respect for the clergy that landowners often treated them with contempt and oppressed them. Empress Elizabeth acceded to the recommendations of the Holy Synod and, by her decree of 1744, ordered the state authorities to ensure “that no offense or oppression of any kind be inflicted upon members of the clergy.” However, this decree was evidently poorly enforced: throughout Elizabeth’s reign, complaints from the clergy—both Great Russian and Little Russian—continued unabated [1154] .

b) The government’s stance toward the clergy softened noticeably only under Catherine II. Political trials on charges of failing to attend solemn divine services on days associated with the jubilees of the ruling house and the like became a great rarity. True, the Holy Synod failed to persuade the Empress to reduce the number of such days, but omissions in this regard were punished, by the Empress’s decree, only with minor ecclesiastical penances. Secular courts were instructed to strictly observe the prohibition against interfering in matters of ecclesiastical jurisdiction. If clergy members found themselves before a secular court in disputes with laypeople, deputies from the consistories were required to be present during the proceedings. Beginning in 1791, by order of the Senate, permanent deputies began to be appointed in the dioceses; they provided substantial assistance to the clergy in secular courts right up until the judicial reform of 1864.[1155]

The oppression and arbitrariness toward the clergy on the part of the landowning nobility—many of whom no longer held any government office and simply lived on their estates—did not cease even under Catherine II. The nobility’s contempt for the clergy was evident not only in the remote provinces but even in the speeches of the noble delegates to the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws in 1767–1769. The day-to-day reality of provincial life showed that the humane treatment of the clergy by secular institutions—which the empress so ardently sought—was transformed here into its exact opposite: officials of every rank, from the highest to the lowest, indulged not only in administrative arbitrariness but also in direct personal insults. In a sense, such behavior was merely a provincial variant of the enlightened freethinking that was professed toward religion in the highest court circles [1156] . The clergy’s ever-increasing social decline and the constant lawlessness on the part of officials and landowners could not help but influence political sentiments in church circles. It is therefore not surprising that among the parish clergy there were individuals who sympathized with the peasant uprisings of the 18th century and willingly helped illiterate peasants draft their accusations against landowners during the Pugachev Rebellion or in other circumstances. Under Anna Ioannovna, such actions would have led to the torture chambers of the Secret Chancellery, but Catherine II took a more level-headed view of such matters, for she likely understood that, whether they wanted to or not, the peasants had to turn to the only literate person in the village—the priest—to help them write their complaints. In 1767, Catherine issued a decree obliging the parish clergy to prevent peasants from rioting and filing complaints against landowners. This decree, like all others (for example, the decree on mandatory smallpox vaccination, on salt prices, etc.), was to be read aloud in churches [1157] . During the Pugachev Rebellion, many members of the clergy not only sympathized with Pugachev but also actively aided him. Some submitted to Pugachev out of fear of his threats, while others were enticed by his promises. By express decree, such clergymen were regarded as political criminals and were to be brought before a secular court. The Empress called on the clergy to influence the people through sermons and the reading of government decrees, thereby helping to restore peace in the Volga region. “Of the two estates,” wrote P. Znamensky, “that suffered particularly during the rebellion—the nobility and the clergy—it is difficult to say which suffered more; the clergy produced from its ranks 237 martyrs for a just cause and loyalty to the legitimate authority—a staggering number, and one that is likely not even complete. But even higher was the number of clergy who betrayed their duty and were swept up in the general popular movement of their region.” Count Panin complained to the Empress: “If the clergy had been even slightly different, the atrocities would not have escalated to such an extent”[1158] .

Emperor Paul I showed more respect toward the clergy than his mother did, although the events at the beginning of his reign could well have caused him to distrust them. In 1797, peasant uprisings broke out, and once again the clergy took part in drafting the peasants’ petitions. In one of his decrees of 1797, the emperor expressed his dissatisfaction that many clergymen, contrary to their spiritual duty, had supported the peasants. The Holy Synod demanded that the bishops exercise stricter supervision over seminary students, “so that, upon entering the priesthood, they might, through both teaching and their own example, strengthen their spiritual children in tranquility, obedience, and good deeds.” The decrees of Catherine II, which prohibited the clergy from writing petitions on behalf of the peasants, were reaffirmed [1159] .

The emperor’s decree of December 6, 1796, contained a requirement to raise the dignity of the clergy. After the emperor had previously abolished corporal punishment for the nobility and the merchant class, he, at the request of the Holy Synod, extended this decree to the clergy as well. Instead, defrocking and lifelong exile to penal labor were to be applied. However, as early as 1800, corporal punishment was reintroduced for the nobility, the merchant class, and defrocked clergy. In 1797, Paul exempted the clergy from police taxes [1160] .

Immediately upon his accession to the throne, Alexander I once again abolished corporal punishment as it applied to clergy (decree of May 22, 1801); in 1808, this abolition was extended to their wives, and in 1811—to monks who did not hold priestly ordination. Subsequent decrees exempted the clergy from the land tax and permitted them to acquire uninhabited lands (1804). In 1819, clergy of noble descent were also permitted to purchase settled lands. The year 1821 brought the clergy final exemption from military quartering and police taxes—with the exception of taxes for bridge construction and street lighting. Overall, it must be acknowledged that from the beginning of the 19th century, the clergy’s situation improved and respect for them grew, although violations of their rights by state authorities, especially in the provinces, were still by no means rare [1161] . Under Alexander I, the issue of jurisdiction over offenses committed in churches was raised. Under one of the decrees of 1816, all violations of order in churches, even those committed by clergy, were transferred to the jurisdiction of secular courts. However, in 1817, a resolution was issued supplementing this decree, according to which ecclesiastical consistories were tasked with conducting preliminary investigations, after which the case would be referred to a secular court for adjudication; in 1821, the consistories were granted the right not only to conduct preliminary investigations but also to render judicial decisions. Under a decree issued somewhat earlier, in 1818, the clergy was subject to secular courts only for crimes against the state. While the decrees of 1810 and 1812 permitted consistory delegates to participate only in the investigative proceedings, from 1823 onward they were also granted the right to vote in the rendering of a verdict [1162] .

c) The codification of laws under Nicholas I finally provided a clear list of the rights and duties of the clergy. The 1832 Code of Laws (which took effect in January 1835) contains, in Volume 9 (Laws on Estates), in its second section, a description of the legal status of the secular clergy, bishops, and monastics within the state. Volume 10 (Civil and Land Boundary Laws) contains provisions regarding church land—particularly parish land—and its use. Volumes 13, 14, and 16 include laws on the jurisdiction of secular courts with respect to the clergy. The 1876, 1891, and 1906 editions of the Code of Laws introduced only minor changes to these provisions, and the additional decrees of 1857–1917 concerning the clergy did not, in principle, deviate significantly from the 1832 Code of Laws.[1163] The 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories definitively delineated the spheres of jurisdiction of ecclesiastical and secular courts for various types of offenses [1164] .

The 1832 Code of Laws granted the white clergy the following fundamental rights: 1) exemption from the poll tax; 2) exemption from military service; 3) exemption from corporal punishment; 4) the right to acquire land in cities and villages; 5) if belonging to the nobility, the right to acquire settled lands (until 1861); 6) exemption from military quartering. In the area of private law, the following regulations applied: 1) a prohibition on assuming legal obligations and providing surety in connection with the awarding of contracts and similar commercial matters; 2) a prohibition on acting as an advocate for others in civil cases; 3) a prohibition on distilling alcohol on one’s own lands; 4) a prohibition on commercial activities in accordance with specific decrees and laws. Widows were permitted to engage in both trade and crafts. Cantors were exempted from military service only under the 1874 statute upon presentation of a certificate of graduation from a theological school, seminary, or academy. However, they were conscripted into military service if they left their position earlier than after six years [1165] .

The reforms of Alexander II introduced some changes in the clergy’s relationship with the state, though by no means as radical as those in other areas of public life. The Judicial Charters of 1864 abolished the institution of delegates from consistories in secular courts [1166] . On the basis of their right to administer parish lands, the clergy, in accordance with the 1864 Charter on Zemstvos, were granted the right to vote and stand for election to these local self-governing bodies in uyezds and governorates. The general abolition of corporal punishment in 1861 finally freed clergymen from this humiliation. The law of May 26, 1869, and the opinion of the State Council of March 15, 1871, approved by the emperor, eliminated the isolation of the clergy. The charters of seminaries and theological academies from 1867 and 1869, as well as the Charter of Gymnasiums and the Charter of Military Schools of 1866, opened the doors of secular educational institutions to the sons of the clergy and exempted them from compulsory education in theological institutions [1167] .

The Manifesto of August 6, 1905, on the establishment of the State Duma and the election laws granted the clergy both the right to vote and the right to stand for election. They were granted this right in their capacity as: 1) urban residents who owned real estate or their own homes; 2) owners of land plots of a certain size; 3) civil servants; 4) representatives of the Church with the right to dispose of land [1168] .

§ 15. The Relationship of the Parish Clergy to the Ecclesiastical Hierarchy

a) Relations between the parish clergy and the ecclesiastical hierarchy during the Synodal period should have been based, as before, primarily on church canons. In reality, however, these relations became increasingly dependent on state legislation.

Until the 18th century, diocesan administration was based on a system of tribute, i.e., the payment of taxes by the parish clergy to the diocesan bishops, which was effectively equivalent to serfdom [1169] . Peter I’s reforms affected only the upper echelons of church administration (the Patriarchate and the Holy Synod) and did not touch upon the relationship between the parish clergy and the bishops. Only secularization—that is, once again, a state initiative—led to a decisive change in these relations. Formally, it abolished the system of corvée labor, eliminating the parish clergy’s tribute payments to the diocesan authorities, who now had other sources of income. However, the elimination of financial obligations did not yet mean an end to their de facto personal dependence on the diocesan bishop. Of course, customary law, which had developed over centuries, could not be abolished with a single stroke of the pen by means of a state decree; it gradually faded away over the course of an entire century. Then, in the 1860s, the issue of reforming the ecclesiastical court came to the fore (see § 6). This court was based on ecclesiastical canons, while at the same time constituting a substantial part of the corvée system.

b) The dependence of members of the clergy on the bishop began long before they assumed a church office. From the time of Peter I, it was mandatory for the sons of the clergy to attend theological schools, which were under the strict supervision of the bishops. This professional dependence began at the moment a petition for appointment to a church office was submitted. The candidate (appointee) was subjected to a complex and, for him, very costly procedure and was obliged to immediately begin paying a number of specific fees to the bishop’s household, which increased even further upon assuming office due to additional levies stipulated in the contract concluded with him. With his installation began his personal dependence on the bishop, who also held full judicial authority. The appointee was required to appear before the bishop’s office—and, beginning in 1744, before the consistory—to submit a petition to the bishop and undergo a detailed interrogation. First and foremost, he had to present a written guarantee from the parish community (the so-called “pledged election”) or a certificate from the landowner confirming the latter’s consent, if the church was located on the landowner’s property. The presentation of the pledged election was mandatory as long as election by the parish assembly remained a condition for the installation of a clergyman. This document guaranteed the clergyman’s financial support, as the parish assumed the obligation to provide for his upkeep in the form of land, fees for religious services, etc. The appointee was required to declare in writing his agreement to the terms specified in the “pledge of support” by signing the corresponding receipt. It was only after the decrees of 1765 and subsequent years allocated land plots to parish churches and established fixed prices for liturgical services that the “pledge election” lost its meaning. Thereafter, a certificate from the relevant district ecclesiastical board was required confirming that the clergyman’s support was indeed secured. The examination at the diocesan administration began with questions about the candidate’s background and legal status, particularly whether he or his father were subject to taxation. This was followed by questions about marriage, the candidate’s moral character, and his attitude toward Old Belief. Finally, officials had to verify the absence of any physical defects (primarily in the hands and feet) that might hinder the performance of divine services. The appointee was required to observe church rules, obey state laws (for example, to carefully compile lists of those coming to confession), and lead a sober life befitting his rank. Under Anna Ioannovna, a certificate confirming the oath of allegiance to the sovereign was also required. Toward the end of Catherine II’s reign and under Paul I, the appointee was also required to pledge not to write petitions on behalf of serfs or to certify their signatures. In conclusion, the appointee certified with his own signature that everything he had stated was the absolute truth and that he was aware of the punishment that would be imposed on him if he failed to comply. This type of formal procedure was still in use at the beginning of the 19th century. It concluded with entries being made in the patronage and fee registers and the payment of the prescribed fees (or dues). Uniform fees for all dioceses were established by law only under Catherine II. A portion of these fees went to the bishop’s chancery, and later to the consistory; the remainder was distributed among the bishop’s officials who participated in the examination and the hieromonk who prepared and examined the candidate. Finally, gifts were distributed (in Ukraine, these were almost officially referred to as “accidents”), so that none of the employees of the bishop’s household would feel slighted. These traditions proved remarkably enduring in the ecclesiastical life of Russia. After the publication of the Consistory Charter, the greatest fear for a novice rural priest was to displease the consistory officials in any way, since even the most insignificant among them could, if the opportunity arose, cause him more trouble than an all-powerful bishop [1170] .

In 1721, the Holy Synod published regulations on the collection of fees: a candidate for the position of priest was required to pay 2 rubles, and for the position of deacon, 1 ruble. These amounts were distributed differently across various dioceses. In the 1740s, in the Moscow Diocese, the bishop’s share amounted to 70 kopecks; the remainder was divided among officials and staff, down to the servants, who received one kopeck each, and the stoker, who was entitled to half a kopeck. In reality, however, a candidate had to face much greater expenses. For example, in the Irkutsk Diocese, as early as the 1820s, 5 rubles were paid for the issuance of a candidate’s certificate.[1171]

The examination, which had existed even in the Moscow State but became mandatory only during the Synodal period, played a decisive role in the appointment process. Preparation for the exam and its administration were usually entrusted to a hieromonk from the bishop’s residence. The duration and outcome of the exam depended not least on the examinee’s generosity toward his examiner; consequently, poorly educated individuals were often ordained. In the 18th century, the Holy Synod was forced to repeatedly remind candidates of the need for thorough preparation, but often the examiner himself was not up to the task, as he owed his position to the bishop’s favor or whim. While in the second half of the 18th century almost all candidates had already completed a full course of study at a theological school or seminary, the examiner-hieromonks could not boast of the same. Then, during the school reform of 1809, it was finally decided that a certificate of graduation from a theological school or seminary would exempt the candidate from the preliminary examination [1172] .

After passing the exam and “satisfying” the officials of the diocesan administration or consistory, the actual ordination (chirotonia) took place; as early as the 18th century, ordination was accompanied by the cutting of the monk’s tonsure [1173] . Then some time was set aside for acquiring practical skills in conducting divine services, after which a corresponding record was made and, finally, the letter of appointment was signed. The newly ordained priest would then travel to present himself to his dean, who would install him in his position. Ordination certificates, even after the Holy Synod introduced printed forms in 1727, were in many cases handwritten; in Ukraine, printed forms did not come into use until 1786. From the second half of the 18th century, newly ordained priests were given the Catechism and the Guide on the Duties of a Parish Priest [1174] .

The same procedure for ordination, involving examinations at the diocesan administration and later at the consistory, also applied to church ministers, or parish clerks (known as “dyachki” in Ukraine). Their letters of appointment, known as “sticharny” or “novoyavlenny” letters, were also subject to duties. The transfer of clergy, accompanied by the issuance of corresponding letters—so-called “transit” letters—was prohibited beginning in 1711. However, despite the fact that bishops faced severe punishment for this under the law, the issuance of such letters did not cease even after a renewed ban in 1765. Sometimes there were valid reasons for such transfers, but quite often the sole motive was the greed of officials in the diocesan administrations [1175] .

In Muscovite Russia, the situation of widowed clergymen was quite dire: upon the death of their wives, they were automatically deprived of the right to conduct divine services and, consequently, of their positions; the best they could hope for was the position of a lay minister. Otherwise, they had only one option left—to enter a monastery. The Local Council of 1667 permitted widowed clergy to retain their positions provided their moral character gave no cause for concern. From that point on, priests received a so-called epitrachelion charter with or without the liturgy—that is, with or without the right to celebrate the liturgy—for which a double fee was charged [1176] . In 1723, the Holy Synod reaffirmed this conciliar decree of 1667 but prohibited the collection of fees for the letters. Instead, widowed clergy were required to submit certificates of good conduct, signed by their deans, to the diocesan administration every one to two, and sometimes three, years; these certificates cost them scarcely less than the abolished fees [1177] . In 1860, the issue of widowed priests was once again on the agenda, and Chief Prosecutor Count A. P. Tolstoy sought the opinion of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov on the matter. The latter spoke in favor of the existing regulations, and pressure on widowed priests to take monastic vows ceased [1178] .

There was a custom whereby, upon the appointment of a new bishop, the secular clergy and abbots of monasteries received confirmation of their positions (signature) from him. This procedure was also accompanied by a fee. To prevent abuse, the Holy Synod set the amount of this fee in 1723. It amounted to (in the case of confirmation in office) 1 ruble for archimandrites, 50 kopecks for abbots, 25 kopecks for archpriests, 15 kopecks for priests, and 10 kopecks for deacons; in the case of promotion to archimandrite—1 ruble; to abbot—50 kopecks; to hieromonk—15 kopecks; to archpriest—25 kopecks. Ordination of a cleric to the diaconate cost 1 ruble 26 kopecks, while ordination to the priesthood cost 2 rubles 34 kopecks; a deacon was also required to pay 1 ruble 26 kopecks for his transfer to the office of priest [1179] .

The most lucrative of the parish priest’s fees was the marriage ceremony. The priest remitted a portion of the amount to the bishop as a fee for issuing the marriage certificate (wedding certificate); until 1720, this fee was forwarded to the Monastic Office and only later began to remain with the bishop himself. Peter I doubled the marriage fee, half of which now went to hospitals. After the establishment of the Board of Economy, half began to go to it, and the other half to the State Treasury. In 1765, wedding memorials, as well as the payment for them to the bishop, were abolished; only the payment to the priest for performing the wedding ceremony remained. In Little Russia, the old customs persisted until the Statutes of 1786. Beginning in 1765, the priest himself had to conduct the “search” (i.e., ascertain the degree of kinship and other possible impediments to marriage) and enter the data into the registry books [1180] . Finally, fines and court fees were also paid to the bishop and the diocesan administration, the amounts of which depended on the bishop’s whim and the greed of the consistory officials. In the 18th century, there were instances when bishops, while training their protégés at the bishop’s residences, not only took money from them but also forced them to serve in the administration.

Among the regular taxes (fixed levies) imposed on parish priests was, first and foremost, a tax in favor of the bishop—the episcopal or ecclesiastical tax—the amount of which depended on the number of households, the size of church lands, and the special revenues of the parish churches. This tax had been introduced by Patriarch Filaret, and Patriarch Joachim (1674–1690) extended it equally to all dioceses beginning in 1687 [1181] . Frequent censuses were conducted to monitor the number of households, which was constantly changing. The total revenue from these taxes fluctuated significantly. A special additional tax was levied on the “ruga,” that is, on subsidies from the state or landowners [1182] .

As early as the 17th century, a tax was also paid to the state—the so-called “state payment tax”—which in the 18th century was referred to as “state money” and ranged from 11 to 17 kopecks, apparently depending on the number of parishioners [1183] . Other taxes included “hospital funds,” levied under Peter I prior to the establishment of the Holy Synod for a hospital in Moscow, and, in the early 18th century, a tax for the ransom of captives, the “captive levy,” which likely already existed in the Muscovite state [1184] . A very ancient tax, known in the 17th century as the “desyatelnichye” and combining various small levies, was used to support the desyatelniks of the diocesan administrations. At the end of the 17th century, it amounted to 30 kopecks per parish church, but by the end of the 18th century it had increased significantly, reaching 60 kopecks. After the establishment of spiritual administrations—which served as the grassroots bodies of the diocesan administrations and replaced the so-called “desiatelnichye courts”—this tax began to fund their maintenance, persisting even after the 1765 staffing regulations, which did not account for the lower administrative bodies [1185] . From the 17th century onward, there was also the “zayezd”—a tax paid to minor officials of the diocesan administrations, and later to deans and other officials during their travels to parishes; in these cases, as with other official trips, they were also entitled to be provided with horses. Finally, the so-called “pishchee” (from the word “to write”), inherited from the 17th century, amounted to one and a half percent of the total taxes collected from each church and was remitted to the diocesan administrations or consistories [1186] .

During the Synodal period, new taxes were added to these. Starting in 1705, each church paid 5 kopecks in “podmozhnoye” money for the maintenance of regimental priests; subsequently, these funds were placed at the disposal of the Board of Economy. After the opening of schools under Peter I, the white clergy was required to contribute one-thirtieth, and the black clergy one-twentieth, of the rye they harvested. This highly unpopular school tax began to be collected with some regularity only under Anna Ioannovna, and in the 1730s, it was replaced by a monetary contribution in some dioceses. Many bishops also introduced additional taxes for the construction and repair of school buildings; in many cases, fines were also used for these purposes [1187] . In addition to these legally mandated taxes, bishops often levied special taxes as well—for example, for the maintenance of diocesan administrations, for cathedral sacristies, for educational purposes, for episcopal choirs, or for the purchase of bells—which they established at their own discretion [1188] . According to the law, parish elders were required to serve on a voluntary basis, but in reality they consistently received payments from the parish clergy. In 1751, the Moscow Diocese attempted to limit clerical fees paid to deans to three kopecks; however, in practice, even as late as the 19th century, the clergy was still required to bear all expenses related to their maintenance [1189] .

A heavy burden on the clergy—not only in the 18th century but throughout the entire Synodal period—was the bishops’ visits, the procedure for which was laid out in detail in the “Spiritual Regulations” (see § 12). As the bishop’s procession approached, the priest would begin to tremble, and with good reason: the slightest dissatisfaction on the part of the bishop or even any of his entourage could have the most disastrous consequences. The parish clergy was required to provide the bishop and his usually quite numerous and formidable retinue with carriages, horses, and fodder for them. Upon the bishop’s arrival in the parish, the clergy had to arrange for his lodging and meals, and, moreover, provide lavish “feasts” (receptions) for all the guests, so as not to make an enemy of the diocesan administration—and, possibly, of its officials—for themselves and, perhaps, for their sons [1190] .

c) It is clear from the above that the parish clergy were not only canonically subordinate to their ecclesiastical superiors—the hierarchy—but were also forced to bear the costs of their upkeep. Until 1764, the church hierarchy lived at the expense of the clergy subordinate to it. The essence and meaning of canonical subordination lay, of course, not so much in administrative dependence as in the implementation of Christian principles of obedience, on the one hand, and—on the other—responsible leadership and caring pastoral guidance. The intrusion of economic factors and interests into this sphere signified a fatal distortion of the joint ecclesiastical ministry of the higher and lower clergy, for in essence they had the same tasks and duties; only the scope of their authority differed. The emergence of these circumstances should not be attributed exclusively to the synodal system, since their preconditions were established even before the 18th century. The very fact of canonical subordination posed a threat to the rights of the lower clergy, who, over the course of history, found themselves in a state of powerlessness. Economic dependence placed the lower clergy in a distinctly subservient relationship to the church hierarchy, and above all to their diocesan bishop. Such relations between the parish clergy and the bishop, which closely resembled serfdom, virtually everywhere excluded any moral element whatsoever. The sense of legal and economic dependence was all the more palpable for the parish clergy because it was accompanied by a humiliation of their human dignity—not by a secularized society, but by the Church itself. “The Church’s yoke left its crude mark on all aspects of ecclesiastical administration and on all relations between ecclesiastical authorities and the clergy under their control”[1191] .

The hierarchs, both in the Holy Synod and in the dioceses, were better educated than their predecessors in the era of Muscovite Rus’, but they stubbornly clung to their canonical rights, unwilling to adapt them to historical changes. A bishop in the 18th or 19th centuries acted exactly as he had in the 16th and 17th centuries, but now this appeared as arbitrariness and despotism in his treatment of the subordinate clergy [1192] .

The economic oppression of the hierarchy weighed heavily on the clergy, who themselves were far from adequately provided for; they lived in poverty, lacking a solid material foundation, and were constantly concerned about providing daily bread for their—for the most part, large—families (see § 16). Two factors, both closely linked to the clergy’s generally dire situation, had a highly adverse effect on religious life. First, the clergy began to treat their duties in a perfunctory manner and to view their primary task as the precise performance of church services, while the pastoral ministry itself was neglected. Second, a corresponding attitude toward the priest developed among parishioners, whose authority continued to decline over time. A habit took root of viewing the priest not as a shepherd, but merely as a performer of necessary rituals.

d) As a result of the secularization of church estates in 1764, the financial support of the hierarchy and diocesan administrations underwent radical changes. The years 1764 and 1765 became for the clergy “almost the same as February 19, 1861, was for our peasantry.” “The long-suffering, burdened servant of God’s throne was finally freed from his status as a taxpayer within the clergy and from the humiliation and anonymity associated with that status”[1193] . This statement, expressed with such passion by P. Znamensky, might well have corresponded to the actual relations between the clergy and the diocesan authorities if all decrees and laws had in fact been observed. Unfortunately, the reality was different, and Znamensky himself, in his study, is forced to cite facts that refute his judgment. Although the measures taken by Catherine II brought some relief to the parish clergy, they did not eliminate their oppressed condition. The transfer of diocesan administrations, bishops, and consistories to the state payroll rendered the levies on the clergy for their maintenance unnecessary. The manifesto of February 26, 1764, proclaimed: “We have now relieved… the entire aforementioned white clergy from the ruinous levy of ‘given money’ from the churches, which had been established by former patriarchs and had continued to this day as a burden on the clergy, and have abolished it entirely.” Thus, according to this decree, the “monetary contributions” to bishops were abolished, and at the same time, the school tax was also eliminated. Subsequently, a decree dated April 18, 1765, abolished the following levies: those for ordination to the priesthood, for ordination to the diaconate, for appointment to a position as a church minister, for confirmatory “signatures,” and for temporary certificates. Later, the duties associated with a bishop’s travels throughout his diocese were also abolished. Duties remained in place for the transfer from deacon to priest and from acolyte to deacon, amounting to two rubles, as well as a “ ” for appointment to the position of church minister—one ruble [1194] . Subsidies for the maintenance of the military clergy were abolished in 1766. In 1771, the Holy Synod deemed it necessary to remind the bishops of the 1765 decree prohibiting the use of appointees in diocesan administration. At the same time, the consistories were ordered not to delay the ordination process [1195] . The transition of the consistories to a salaried system curbed the greed of officials, which had previously weighed heavily on the clergy. However, as already mentioned (§ 11), the lower-level bodies of ecclesiastical administration remained outside the scope of the established staff. To keep costs down, they were relocated to monasteries, where the monks began to take control of them, which, of course, brought no benefits to the secular clergy [1196] .

Other decrees were aimed at improving the legal status of the clergy. In 1765, bishops were prohibited from defrocking clergymen without the consent of the Holy Synod—a measure that had been applied very frequently up to that point. On April 11, 1766, bishops were advised to avoid cruelty when punishing clergy; on May 21, corporal punishment of priests and hieromonks was prohibited, and in 1771, the same prohibition was extended to deacons. From then on, they could be subjected to corporal punishment only upon the verdict of a secular court if charged with crimes against the state, and only after being defrocked [1197] .

Although, on the whole, a spirit of conservative caste mentality continued to prevail within the hierarchy, it must nevertheless be acknowledged that some of its members were open to new trends, as is evident from the “points” presented by the Holy Synod to the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws. The decree issued in 1768 mandating the appointment of representatives of the secular clergy (alongside monastics) to the clergy consistories had a beneficial effect on the parish clergy. Conversely, the introduction in all Moscow dioceses of Metropolitan Platon Levshin’s “Instructions to Deanery Heads” (1775)—who was deeply concerned with the education and social standing of the clergy—brought little benefit. According to these instructions, deans were no longer elected by the clergy, and the right to appoint them passed to the bishop. This procedure was confirmed by the 1841 Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (Art. 67). However, beginning in the early 1860s, in circumvention of this decree, deanery superintendents once again began to be elected by the clergy and were regarded not so much as superiors as as the priests’ representatives before the bishop. Unfortunately, such elections were banned as early as 1881 by the Holy Synod during the onset of the reactionary period (see § 11)[1198] . The liberal trends of the 1860s revived the clergy’s hopes for an improvement in their legal status. A series of laws abolished the closed nature of the clerical estate. A Special Commission established under the Holy Synod in 1862 to explore ways of securing the livelihood of the clergy was also tasked with safeguarding their personal and civil rights [1199] . However, all efforts to regulate relations between the clergy and church authorities proved completely fruitless. In 1870, Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy established a Special Committee to draft a reform of the ecclesiastical court (see § 6). However, the committee’s inquiries to the bishops revealed their opposition to the reform, and the draft was shelved.

The debate that unfolded in the pages of church journals in 1871–1873 demonstrated how keenly the clergy was interested in judicial reform. During those years, the journal *Orthodox Interlocutor* published a study by P. Znamensky, a professor at the Kazan Theological Academy, titled “The Parish Clergy in Russia Since the Time of Peter the Great’s Reform,” which drew on a great deal of unpublished material. In examining the legal status of the clergy, the author presents a number of facts that shed light on the complex relationship between the clergy and the church administration in the past. This also provided a clearer understanding of the contemporary situation that had developed after the 1860s and urgently required reforms. In 1870, N. K. Sokolov, a professor of canon law at Moscow University, examined the issue of judicial reform from a canonical perspective in the journal *Orthodox Review*. Opponents of the reform were not silent either. Despite the relevance of this issue, the official authorities only turned their attention to it again in connection with the establishment of the Pre-Council Assembly in 1905–1906; however, its work also failed to yield any practical results [1200] .

d) Among the Ukrainian clergy of the 18th century, there were many who came from the nobility; such cases also occurred in Great Russia. Furthermore, members of the clergy were sometimes granted hereditary nobility—for example, Archpriest Dubyansky, the empress’s spiritual advisor, or Archpriest Alexander Levshin, the brother of Metropolitan Platon [1201] . As a special mark of distinction, Paul I introduced the awarding of orders to clergy, which simultaneously signified admission to the order (as a member of its community of knights—Ed.). In cases where an order entailed the conferral of personal or hereditary nobility, this rule also applied to the clergy. In 1872, a decree was issued stipulating that priests were to be awarded the Order of St. Anne, 3rd Class, for 12 years of impeccable service. Deacons received this order after 25 years of service, but after ten years of service, they—like psalm readers—could be awarded a medal bearing the emperor’s image on the Order of St. Alexander’s ribbon [1202] . In 1885, by personal decree of Emperor Alexander III, the clergy were prohibited from wearing orders on their vestments during divine services [1203] .

Church distinctions were conferred in the 19th century in the following order: 1) the loincloth, 2) the skufia, 3) the purple kamelaukion, 4) the pectoral cross, 5) the staff, 6) the pectoral cross from the Imperial Cabinet, 7) the miter. The hip-length robe, staff, and miter were worn only during divine services. The first member of the White clergy to be granted a miter was Archpriest Ioann Pamphilov, confessor to Empress Catherine II, which caused discontent among the hierarchy. The awarding of the pectoral cross, the skufia, and the kamelaukion was introduced by Paul I on December 31, 1798. The diocesan bishop himself had the right to award the loincloth and the skufia; the kamelaukion and pectoral cross were awarded by the Holy Synod upon the bishop’s recommendation; the awarding of a miter required the emperor’s consent. In 1814, Alexander I awarded bronze pectoral crosses to all priests who had participated in the Patriotic War. After the coronation of Nicholas II, all priests received silver pectoral crosses. Thereafter, only gold pectoral crosses or pectoral crosses from the Imperial Cabinet continued to serve as insignia [1204] .

§ 16. Financial Support for Parish Clergy

a) Until the 18th century, the sources of income for the parish clergy were: 1) fees for religious services; 2) voluntary donations from parishioners; 3) ruga, i.e., a subsidy from the state in kind or in cash; 4) income from church lands or from plots of land granted by the state for the clergy’s use. Fees for religious services remained the main source of income, as they were fixed and mandatory, whereas the amount of voluntary donations fluctuated greatly depending on the time, place, customs, and the financial circumstances of the parishioners. State subsidies were granted to only a few parishes, and ownership of church land was also relatively rare. Measures undertaken in the 17th century to provide parishes with land were implemented only partially in practice; consequently, by the beginning of the 18th century, the financial situation of the parish clergy was precarious and meager [1205] . This lack of security, as well as the necessity of cultivating church land themselves, placed an extreme burden on the parish clergy, undermining their pastoral duties. In the first quarter of the 18th century, I. T. Pososhkov painted the following picture: “I do not know how things are in other lands, how rural priests support themselves, but I know very well that here in Russia rural priests support themselves through their own labor, and in this they are no different from the plowing peasants; the peasant at the plow, and the priest at the plow; the peasant with the scythe, and the priest with the scythe; while the Holy Church and the spiritual flock remain on the sidelines. And because of such farming practices, many Christians die not only without having been deemed worthy to receive the Body of Christ, but also deprived of repentance, and they die like cattle. And I do not know how to remedy this: they receive no salary from the sovereign, nor do they receive any alms from the community, and God alone knows what they live on.”[1206] . Pososhkov quite rightly points out the flaws in the system of providing sustenance from church lands, which the clergy themselves had to cultivate, and examines the entire issue of the clergy’s material support from the perspective of their pastoral ministry—something the official authorities almost never did. The idea of a radical solution to the problem—requiring the believers themselves to support their pastors—arose from time to time, but only to be immediately abandoned due to the disorganization of church communities and, most importantly, the embryonic state of communal consciousness.

A parish priest’s income depended primarily on fees for religious services, for which there were virtually no fixed rates. Subjective factors, such as the priest’s popularity or his inclination and ability to “extract” payment, also played a significant role. But the main obstacle was the attitude toward the priest and his work that was customary among the Russian people. The common man very rarely saw his priest as a spiritual shepherd or the guide of his religious life. For him—accustomed to holding the sacraments and the ritual aspects of church life in high regard—the priest was a necessary intermediary in communication with the higher world, the performer of religious services without which it was impossible to “set one’s soul right,” and therefore entitled to remuneration. At the same time, however, the believer considered himself entitled to determine the amount of this remuneration based on his own assessment of the significance of a particular service. Such freedom was an integral part of his religious consciousness. He alone could know how much a given service meant for his soul. This deep-seated conviction of the Russian people, with its centuries-old roots, continued to thrive in both the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The idea of replacing payment for religious services with fixed contributions from all members of the church community still does not sit well with the Russian religious consciousness to this day. The higher clergy never made any effort to promote this idea. Perhaps they feared that this would lead to the development of a sense of church-community identity, which over time would inevitably raise the question of the community’s right to active participation in church life. Neither the state nor the hierarchy of the Synodal period could have welcomed such a prospect.

Until the 18th century, there were no fixed rates for church services. Under the system of elected clergy, the parish community entered into a contract with each new priest, which specified: 1) the amount of land allocated for the clergy’s upkeep; 2) in some cases, an additional payment in kind, usually for Christmas and other holidays; 3) in addition to this, remuneration for performing religious services. Such contracts were particularly common in Ukraine, but they were also found in the north of Muscovy, as well as in other regions of the country [1207] . If the church was located on a landowner’s property, the contract was concluded with the landowner. Once established, the terms of the contract proved to be extremely stable, so that a new priest very rarely managed to change them in his favor. The diocesan administration, which required the appointee to secure the church community’s endorsement—a guarantee of his livelihood—had an interest in ensuring the future priest’s stability to the extent that the flow of numerous collections into the diocesan treasury depended on it. The guarantees concerned land and a “ruga” (a type of tax), while the question of payment for religious services remained unresolved. The latter was often paid in kind; in Ukraine, this accounted for nearly half of the payments. This custom persisted until the 1860s, giving rise to numerous complaints about the methods by which the parish clergy attempted to increase their remuneration for religious services. The flaws in this system were quite evident to Pososhkov, mentioned above. In his *Book on Poverty and Wealth*, he advocated for meeting the clergy’s needs through fixed contributions from members of the church community: “And I propose the following opinion: if it is possible to arrange matters so that all parishioners of every church are required to set aside a tithe or a twentieth of their food for the clergy—as the tsar or the bishop may decree—so that by this arrangement they may be well-fed even without arable land. And it is right for them to be without farmland, since they are servants of God and, according to the Lord’s word, it is fitting for them to be sustained by the Church, not by agriculture”[1208] . Both the “Spiritual Regulations” and the “Addendum” to it from 1722 also express the view that the provision for the clergy has thus far been poorly organized: “And this is no small task—to protect the priesthood from simony and shameless insolence. To this end, it would be useful to consult with the senators to determine how many households should be assigned to a single parish, from which each would pay a specific amount to the priests and other church officials of their parish, so that they may have sufficient sustenance commensurate with their position and henceforth refrain from demanding payment for baptisms, funerals, weddings, and the like. However, this regulation does not prohibit a willing person from giving the priest as much as one’s generosity may dictate.” However, the statutes of 1722 contained no provisions regarding contributions from parishioners, except for those from the Old Believers [1209] ; instead, they provided for a reduction in income from religious services, since the Holy Synod had now prohibited the customary visits to homes with icons and the sprinkling of holy water on major holidays, with the exception of Christmas [1210] . At the beginning of Anna Ioannovna’s reign, Cabinet Minister A. P. Volynsky, in his “General Discourse on the Reform of Internal State Affairs,” declared that fees for religious services were humiliating for the clergy and demanded that they be abolished, along with the compulsory farming duties imposed on priests, and that a fixed tax be established in their place [1211] . Several years later, V. N. Tatishchev proposed increasing the minimum number of members in a parish to 1,000 souls and collecting an annual tax of three kopecks from each. Then, in his opinion, the clergy would come to care more about the Church than about their land, farming, and haymaking, for the latter is entirely unworthy of their rank and leads to their losing the respect due to them [1212] . In 1767, the Little Russian Collegium also demanded in its “points” for the Commission on the Drafting of a New Code of Laws that the income of the white clergy from parishioners be established and that their land be taken away from them. The residents of the town of Krapivna expressed similar sentiments in their petition [1213] .

In 1742, a decree was issued reiterating the requirement to consecrate new churches “if those churches are fully provided with the aforementioned support (i.e., maintenance—Ed.)… and without such proof of the consecration of the churches, permission shall by no means be granted”[1214] . But the situation in existing parishes remained unchanged. In 1724, priests in the capital complained to the Synod about their dire circumstances. In the 1750s, it sometimes happened that St. Petersburg priests would transfer to rural parishes, since life there was somewhat easier. The most generous remuneration for liturgical services was found in Ukraine, where, moreover, local custom invariably required voluntary donations [1215] . Nevertheless, in 1767, the Bishop of Belgorod lamented in his proposals to the aforementioned legislative commission the extreme poverty of his clergy, who were forced to make a living by farming. In 1763, Metropolitan Arseny Matseevich of Rostov reported that in his diocese, rural priests for the most part lived in extreme poverty and supported themselves by farming [1216] .

Fixed rates for church levies were established by the Senate in 1765, when the issue of church land ownership came up for discussion. The clergy were strictly prohibited from exceeding the prescribed limits, even though these were significantly lower than those previously in effect. As a result, the decree proved unenforceable, and complaints of extortion by the clergy became more frequent [1217] . This failure likely prompted the Holy Synod to express in its decree the desire that, in accordance with the “Spiritual Regulations,” an annual farm tax be introduced and fees for church services be abolished [1218] . Despite the general rise in the cost of living, the rates for religious services were not revised throughout the entire second half of the 18th century [1219] . Even in Paul I’s detailed decree of December 18, 1797, only the issue of church land was addressed, while absolutely nothing was said about religious services [1220] . It was not until the decree of April 3, 1801, that the rates for church services were doubled compared to 1765.[1221] In 1808, the Commission on Theological Schools, with the aim of raising funds for schools, was compelled to review all budget items of the Ecclesiastical Department and to carefully examine the situation of the parish clergy. The investigation revealed that of 26,417 churches, only 185 had an annual income of 1,000 rubles. The majority, however, had an income of only 50 to 150 rubles per year, and there were even some whose income amounted to a mere 10 rubles. The commission opposed maintaining fees for religious services, proposing to replace charges for essential services—such as baptism, marriage, and the like—with regular contributions from parishioners; voluntary remuneration was envisaged for non-essential services (such as home worship, etc.). However, the commission believed that the difficulties associated with introducing such a system would be insurmountable and recommended that parish clergy be granted a state salary [1222] . Nevertheless, no changes took place during the reign of Alexander I. Under Nicholas I, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov proposed raising the fees for religious services. When, in 1838, it was proposed to introduce a tax of 30 kopecks per peasant household to support the clergy, Filaret wrote: “Should the landowner also pay a tax to support the parish clergy, or why should he enjoy the services of the clergy for free, when he has the same needs as the peasants?” This fair and reasonable observation could not have pleased either the Holy Synod or the emperor, since it might have seemed that it fundamentally reduced the tax-exempt nobility to the level of the tax-paying estates![1223] During the first half of the 19th century, the issue of a permanent tax on members of the church community was discussed more than once, but invariably to no avail. Instead, under Nicholas I, in connection with the issue of parish land allotments and thanks to special subsidies from the treasury to the budget of the Holy Synod, a gradual shift toward the implementation of the idea of a state stipend began.

In the 1860s, the clergy began to publicly discuss their hardships through newly established church journals. The need to “bargain” with parishes over demands was characterized as humiliating. Most authors held the view that a permanent tax should be imposed on parishioners to support their clergy, while also acknowledging the psychological unpreparedness of Russian church communities for such an unpopular idea. Laypeople also took part in the discussion. In 1868, I. S. Aksakov wrote: “When we say ‘parish,’ we mean a community, a church, and the clergy, which are inextricably linked and form a single organic whole… It is precisely these conditions of organic life that our Russian parish lacks. Only certain external forms remain, but these are primarily for the sake of external order and improvement… There are parishioners, but there is no parish in the true sense of the word; people are assigned to churches, but they do not constitute a church community in its true, original sense. “The parish is deprived of all autonomy.” According to Aksakov, an indispensable condition for resolving the issue of the parish clergy’s support is the proper order of parish life; parishioners must recognize their duties toward their clergy. Only the liberation of clergy from humiliating financial dependence on the goodwill of parishioners will lead to an increase in the clergy’s authority and their self-awareness as shepherds [1224] . Public discussion of the issue of the parish tax yielded some results [1225] . After the establishment of new staffing levels in 1869 and the determination of the conditions under which new parishes could be opened, the diocesan bishop gained the ability to require future parishioners to provide sufficient support for the clergy. However, the issues of payment for religious services and the parish tax remained unresolved. State salaries were paid only to a portion of the clergy and did little to improve the dire situation [1226] .

b) Even before the 18th century, in certain localities it became necessary, alongside the unreliable payment for services, to introduce “ruga”—that is, subsidies—and land grants. Seventeenth-century documents always carefully noted whether the church received ruga and whether it owned estates recorded in the land registers. Ruga could be granted either from the sovereign’s treasury, or by the landowner on whose land the church was located, or, finally, by the urban or rural population in the form of money or in kind. The latter was particularly widespread in the 15th–17th centuries in northern parishes, where a sense of community was more strongly developed [1227] . State support was generally granted in response to a corresponding petition and could be either temporary or indefinite—until specifically revoked. In most cases, it was provided to cathedrals and other urban churches. In 1698, Peter I abolished the monetary ruga for Siberia, and in 1699—for the rest of the empire as well, significantly reducing the ruga in kind as well [1228] . Beginning in the early 1720s, the government began collecting data on the existing ruga with the clear intention of abolishing it altogether [1229] . This trend led to the ruga no longer being paid in full in many places, and many parishes accumulated a kind of monetary asset in the state treasury, which was referred to as “unpaid salaries.” Despite the decree of 1730 and subsequent warnings from the Senate, these outstanding ruga payments were settled extremely irregularly and incompletely. In 1736, the Cabinet of Ministers issued an order to pay the ruga not from the funds of the State Treasury but from the revenues of the Board of Economy. In each individual case, before documents were submitted to the treasury of the Board of Finance, they had to be reviewed by the Holy Synod [1230] . These so-called “ruga accounts” were never finalized, and only the clergy of St. Petersburg and of the Assumption and Archangel Cathedrals in Moscow received a systematic ruga—in other words, a state salary [1231] . It was only Empress Elizabeth who ordered the full payment of stipends to the “ruga” churches [1232] . From the report on the “ruga” churches, requested in 1763 from the State Chancellery by the Commission on Church Estates, it is evident that the total amount of subsidies paid amounted to 35,441 rubles 16 rubles 14 kopecks; payments in kind to city churches were not included in this amount, and 516 churches owned estates.

Not all churches that had lost their lands were included in the 1764 rolls; instead, they listed other churches that had not previously owned land. The rural clergy was not included in these rolls at all. After reviewing the documents of each church subject to the “ruga,” the Commission on Church Estates, having reduced certain budgetary items, established the following amounts for the “ruga”: 62 rubles 50 kopecks for the priest, 18 rubles for the sexton, and 10 rubles per year for the needs of the church itself. Churches with a “ruga” of less than 10 rubles were to be supported by the diocesan administrations. Beginning in 1786, the “ruga” became entirely monetary throughout the country, after which its total amount amounted to 19,812 rubles 18 kopecks 34 kopecks[1233] The rural clergy was once again bypassed. Unable to resolve the issue of their financial support, the government attempted at least to slow the establishment of new parishes and the growth of the clergy. The “care for the betterment of the Church and concern for its ministers,” proclaimed in Paul I’s decree of December 18, 1797, in practice affected only a small number of clergymen who were already under the state’s care.

In 1808, the Commission on Theological Schools attempted to resolve the issue of clergy support by providing them with a state salary. It was proposed to divide more than 25,000 parishes into seven classes and subsidize them based on the priests’ level of education. However, it was ultimately decided to exclude 14,619 churches from the three lowest classes, leaving their support to the parishes themselves, which were required to raise approximately 300 rubles per year for their clergy, including income from church-owned land. According to the commission’s calculations, maintaining the four highest classes required 7,101,400 rubles annually [1234] . To cover these expenses, the so-called “economic funds”—that is, capital derived from church revenues and held by the churches, totaling 5,600,000 rubles, a portion of which was earmarked for the needs of theological schools—were to be used first and foremost. This money was to be deposited in the State Bank, and together with the annual government subsidy of two million rubles, it was expected to yield 6,247,450 rubles per year in interest to pay the clergy’s salaries; this amount also included proceeds from the sale of candles [1235] . In 1808, this plan was approved by the emperor, and the problem of providing for the clergy seemed to have been resolved. However, many parishes, as well as landowners who had the right to dispose of parish funds, rushed to spend these substantial sums to avoid their confiscation by the state. Furthermore, after the War of 1812, the state treasury itself faced financial difficulties. To make matters worse, it turned out that the calculation of revenues from the sale of church candles had been done incorrectly. The collection of economic capital dragged on until the reign of Nicholas I and was plagued by enormous shortfalls. In 1721, Peter I established a church monopoly on the sale of candles in churches, linking it to the organization of parish almshouses. From 1740 onward, revenues from this monopoly were allocated to theological schools. In 1753, the monopoly was abolished , and private individuals were also permitted to trade in church candles. It was not until 1808 that the Commission on Ecclesiastical Schools persuaded the emperor to restore the monopoly in the hope of increasing the fallen revenues and benefiting from them. However, since many churches—primarily monastic ones—were exempt from remitting these revenues, and the clergy of other churches underreported their receipts in their accounts, the overall result was much more modest than anticipated. For all these reasons, the commission’s plan proved completely unworkable [1236] .

With the beginning of Nicholas I’s reign, the Holy Synod had to address the issue of increasing the clergy’s income. As early as 1827, 25,000 rubles were paid annually from the fund for theological schools to support clergy who had suffered from fires; by 1828, these annual payments had reached 40,000 rubles. On December 6, 1829, the Synod’s proposal for subsidies to the poorest parishes was approved, and for this purpose, a sum of 142,000 rubles was allocated from the state treasury; in 1830, it was increased to 500,000 rubles. In the annual budget of the Holy Synod, these funds were listed under a separate line item—salaries for the clergy. Priority was given to the poorest parishes in the western provinces—Minsk, Mogilev, and Volhynia [1237] . In 1838, a commission consisting of representatives of the Holy Synod, the Chief Prosecutor, and the Minister of the Interior began its work, again addressing the issue of clergy salaries. Following the return of Uniate parishes to the Orthodox Church in 1838 and the secularization of their lands in 1841 (§ 10), the clergy of the Lithuanian, Polotsk, Minsk, Mogilev, and Volhynia dioceses were partially transferred to the state payroll (1842). Parishes were divided into seven classes, ranging from 100 to 3,000 parishioners. The salaries of priests ranged from 100 to 180 rubles, deacons received 80 rubles, and church servants 40 rubles. At the same time, most priests were required to forgo fees for religious services [1238] . Over time, these standard staffing levels were extended to other provinces as well. In 1855, 57,035 priests and church servants received salaries, and 13,862 parishes were included in the staffing system, with total payments amounting to 3,139,697 rubles 86 kopecks.[1239] As of 1862, the total number of churches was approximately 37,000, of which 17,547 were on the official payroll, receiving a total of 3,727,987 rubles.[1240] In 1862, a Special Commission was established to explore ways to secure the livelihood of the clergy; it had local branches in the provinces, in which representatives of the nobility also participated. However, its meetings, which attracted keen public interest, did not result in any concrete decision. As a stopgap measure, an attempt was made to reduce the number of parishes through a special Charter on Parishes, issued in 1869, as well as its Addenda of 1871. In 1871, the treasury paid the clergy of 17,780 parishes a total salary of 5,456,204 rubles. Shortly after taking office as Chief Prosecutor, K. P. Pobedonostsev complained to Emperor Alexander III that in 17 dioceses the clergy lived in abject poverty and received no salary whatsoever. At the beginning of Alexander III’s reign (1884), a small increase in salaries occurred in particularly impoverished dioceses (the Diocese of Riga and the Georgian Exarchate). It was not until 1892 that the general fund was increased by 250,000 rubles, and in 1895—by another 500,000 rubles.[1241]

Nicholas II’s manifesto of February 26, 1903, once again proclaimed measures for “implementing initiatives aimed at improving the financial situation of the Orthodox rural clergy.” In 1910, a special department was once again established within the Holy Synod to develop a plan of action for the financial support of the clergy. Payments from the treasury for the maintenance of the parish clergy were increased by 500,000 rubles in 1909 and 1910, in 1911 by 580,000 rubles, and in 1912 by 600,000 rubles, but even these amounts still did not cover the needs. Calculations by the Holy Synod as early as 1896 showed that, with an average annual payment of 400 rubles per parish, an additional 1,600,000 rubles would be required. Since then, the number of parishes has increased significantly. In 1910, clergy in 29,984 parishes received a salary, while in 10,996 parishes they still did not, even though the state had allocated 13 million rubles for this purpose.[1242] The bill “On the Support of the Orthodox Clergy,” submitted to the Fourth State Duma in 1913, provided for an annual income of 2,400 rubles for priests, 1,200 rubles for deacons, and 600 rubles for cantors. These incomes were to be based on state “standard salaries” of 1,200, 600, and 300 rubles, respectively; the other half was to be covered by a fixed tax on parishes or by revenues from church lands, if any existed. The sudden outbreak of World War I in 1914 prevented further discussion of this bill. The Holy Synod’s budget for 1916 allocated 18,830,308 rubles for the support of the clergy (including missionaries); this amount was barely sufficient to provide for just over two-thirds of all parishes [1243] . Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that in the second half of the 19th century and the first two decades of the 20th century, the financial situation of the clergy improved significantly. The introduction of a parish tax could, in the long run, resolve the problem quite satisfactorily, and possibly even without any involvement of the treasury (see Table 6 at the end of the volume).

c) The question of granting land to the parish clergy was raised repeatedly during the Synodal period—whenever the issue of providing for the clergy was discussed. There were two reasons for this: first, it was the traditional method by which the state had become accustomed to resolving financial problems, and second, in the 18th century, land still remained the capital that the government had in abundance. Prior to the patriarchate of Patriarch Filaret (1619–1634), the granting of land to parish clergy was not a customary or legally established practice. Church lands allocated to parishes (assigned lands), in contrast to lands granted to bishops, synods, or monasteries, were not hereditary estates. They were uninhabited, devoid of any privileges, but in return were exempt from taxes (levies). In the Patriarchal Province, according to the land register records of the 1620s, plots ranging from 10 to 20 cheti—that is, 5 to 10 desyatinas—were assigned to parish churches. These plots were listed in the land survey books as being in the use of the clergy, and their size and location could be revised in subsequent land surveys.

In northern Russia, even before the 17th century, peasants had a custom of setting aside their own land for the maintenance of the clergy. Since this land was subject to the tax on landholdings—that is, subject to state taxation—the clergy became liable for taxes. The same was true of lands bequeathed to parish churches in the wills of landowners. In 1632, such bequests were prohibited, although those made earlier remained in force. Under the Code of 1649, these lands were not expropriated either, but the government refused requests from church communities for the allocation of additional lands and from landowners for permission to transfer land to the church. In 1676, a decree was issued that strictly prohibited any granting of land to churches; however, as early as the following year, another decree again permitted grants from private (but not state) funds in amounts ranging from 5 to 10 desyatinas. During the land redistribution of 1674, all churches built after the redistribution of the 1620s were granted land estates at the behest of Patriarch Joakim (1674–1690), and a decree of 1685 even required landowners who wished to build a church on their land to set aside 5 desyatinas of land for it [1244] .

As a result, church-owned land became the basis of the parish clergy’s material support. Consequently, they were compelled to cultivate this land, and—as Pososhkov, Tatishchev, and others noted—their way of life was indistinguishable from that of the peasants. Peter I placed no restrictions on the allocation of land to churches. His decree of February 28, 1718—which required parishes to purchase privately owned real estate belonging to the clergy that had been built on church land—shows that he recognized church land ownership as lawful [1245] . One of the reports of the Holy Synod from 1739 attests that even at that time, the decree of 1685 remained in force. In the first half of the 18th century, legal disputes frequently arose due to attempts by landowners or peasant communities (mirov) to encroach upon or appropriate church land; this was particularly common in Ukraine, where the 1685 decree did not apply and the allocation of land was exclusively voluntary [1246] . During the state land survey, which began in 1754, landless parish churches were allocated arable land and pastures in accordance with the 1685 decree [1247] . However, the surveys that had already begun had to be suspended because there were no precise instructions, and errors led to countless complaints from those affected. General land surveying was not resumed until 1765. Detailed instructions stipulated that parish churches located on landowners’ property were to be allocated 33 desyatinas each (30 desyatinas of arable land and 3 desyatinas of meadow); urban churches were not entitled to any land [1248] . By decree of Paul I dated December 18, 1797, the allocation of land was extended to the new provinces that had been ceded by Poland, on the condition, however, that parishioners would undertake the cultivation of church lands for the benefit of the clergy. The Senate and the Holy Synod were tasked with drafting instructions for the implementation of this decree. Following joint deliberations by both institutions, the following slightly amended provisions were submitted to the emperor for his signature: 1) the minimum land allotment must be 33 desyatinas; 2) the allocated land is considered granted for long-term use, but its cultivation remains the responsibility of the parishioners; 3) the clergy receives the harvest in kind (grain, hay, and straw), but has the right to negotiate an exchange of the in-kind payment for money; 4) for plots larger than 33 desyatinas, the excess must be leased out but under no circumstances cultivated by the clergy themselves, “so that the white clergy may maintain a status and standing befitting the importance of their office”; 5) garden plots remain for the personal use of the clergy. On January 11, 1798, these provisions were published as an imperial decree [1249] . Their implementation met with resistance from the peasants, especially regarding the cultivation of church land and the size of the harvest to be set aside. On April 3, 1801, this decree was again repealed by Alexander I for the sake of “the union of peace, love, and good understanding, which faith prescribes among all the sons of the Church, and especially between the church pastors and their spiritual flock”—a decision that seemed truly Solomonic: the tsar expressed the hope that “the secular clergy, honoring the founders of the faith and the ancient patriarchs of the early Church as the first farmers and emulating their holy example, will steadfastly remain in this apostolic simplicity of morals and practices” and will begin to cultivate church lands with their own hands. Subsequently, the allocation of land to churches proceeded rather sluggishly due to resistance from landowners, although there were quite a few decrees on this matter (in 1802, 1803, 1804, and 1814)[1250] .

The practical solution of allowing the parish clergy themselves to cultivate church land with “apostolic simplicity” remained in effect under Nicholas I. The Holy Synod’s proposal, approved by the emperor on December 6, 1829, prescribed: 1) to continue the allocation of land; 2) to increase the land allotments for large parishes; 3) to increase the land allotments of parishes located on state-owned land to 99 desyatinas; 4) to build houses for the clergy; 5) to support the clergy of poor parishes by granting them additional land allotments at the expense of abolished parishes or through state subsidies in the amount of 300–500 rubles. For this purpose, 500,000 rubles were allocated from the state treasury.[1251] The process of land allocation under Nicholas I proceeded extremely slowly, and in the western and southwestern dioceses, resistance from Catholic landowners and newly annexed Uniate parishes created particular difficulties.[1252] . To encourage the clergy to engage in farming, new subjects—agriculture and natural science—were introduced in seminaries in 1840. Metropolitan Filaret, who as early as 1826, in a memorandum submitted personally to the emperor, had recommended the granting of land, now began to have doubts, believing that this might interfere with the clergy’s pastoral duties: “If, due to local circumstances, he (the priest. — I. S.) take up the plow, he will rarely pick up a book”[1253] .

Under Alexander II, in 1869–1872, new decrees on land allotments were issued. In 1867, in-kind payments to the clergy in the southwestern (and in 1870, also in the northwestern) dioceses were replaced with corresponding monetary sums [1254] . In the 1860s, public opinion advocated for a salary or a voluntary church tax in favor of the clergy, who had come to hope for liberation from arduous agricultural labor and showed little interest in receiving land grants. Nevertheless, the land grants continued and were not completed even by the time the Pre-Council Assembly was convened in 1905. In 1890, in the European part of Russia, churches owned 1,686,558 desyatinas, of which 143,808 desyatinas were unproductive lands and 92,550 desyatinas were courtyard and garden plots. From the beginning of the 18th century, at the initiative of the state, over 1,000,000 desyatinas were allocated to the churches (excluding lands already in church possession, especially in the North). In Siberia and Turkestan, rural churches were few in number. Therefore, the total area of church landholdings there amounted to only 104,492 desyatinas. In the Caucasus, it was even smaller—72,893 desyatinas. Thus, for the entire empire, we arrive at a total of 1,863,943 desyatinas, which, though not legally, were in fact the inalienable property of the parish clergy. The value of this land in 1890 was estimated at 116,195,000 rubles, and the income from it at 9,030,000 rubles. Taking into account subsequent land allocations as of 1914, even by the roughest estimates, we can assume an income of 10 million rubles for the 30,000 churches that owned land allotments—that is, an average of approximately 300 rubles per clergyman in each parish [1255] .

Unfortunately, there are no precise data on how these measures actually affected the financial situation of the clergy during the first decade and a half of the 20th century. One can only say with certainty that the situation varied from place to place—for example, it was quite favorable in dioceses with fertile soil or where the well-to-do peasantry maintained the old traditions of voluntary offerings for services (alongside mandatory payments). Here, some members of the clergy owned real estate and privately held land. The financial situation of the clergy was fundamentally different in poor dioceses, where they suffered alongside the peasants.

d) All the measures described were intended exclusively for the regular clergy—that is, those actually serving—and did nothing to provide for retired clergy, widows, orphans, or clergy without a parish. In the Muscovite state, these issues remained unresolved. Elderly clergy members unable to serve were left to the care of their children due to the insufficient number of almshouses. For this reason, the clergy clung so tenaciously to the hereditary succession of parishes, which guaranteed support in old age. In Ukraine, the hereditary system applied not only to sons-in-law (as was the case everywhere else) but also to the widows of priests, who continued to hold the parish, using vicars to conduct services (see § 11). The ecclesiastical authorities found it convenient to resolve the issue of providing for the clergy through the inheritance of parishes, and they sought to preserve the exclusivity of the clerical class by preventing individuals from other social classes from entering it. In other respects, they dealt with the situation by granting the widows of the clergy a monopoly on baking prosphora or simply by relying on God’s will. After 1764, the situation became more complicated, as many clergymen were left without a post.

It was not until 1791 that Empress Catherine II laid the foundation for a pension fund. The Holy Synod was instructed to regularly deposit the surplus income from the Synodal Printing House into a bank and to use the interest to pay pensions to clergy and church officials [1256] . However, this money was sufficient only for a minority, while the majority remained dependent on their families for support. According to P. Znamensky, they were saved by “the strength of family ties,” as well as by the fact “that almost every clergyman always considered it his inescapable duty to share his sometimes meager income with his poor relatives and, from the very first day of his ministry, became the breadwinner for what was usually a large family of people of various genders and ages”[1257] . On March 7, 1799, Emperor Paul I issued a decree to the Holy Synod, instructing it to discuss the issue of pensions for the urban clergy. As early as April 4, the Synod submitted a comprehensive report to the emperor. Its main provisions, approved by Paul, reaffirmed the existing hereditary system and the closed nature of the clergy: 1) the sons of deceased clergymen were educated at public expense in theological schools, and their fathers’ positions were reserved for them; 2) upon reaching marriageable age, daughters were required to marry clergymen or church officials, who were granted priority in filling vacancies—first and foremost, their father-in-law’s position; 3) widows of advanced age were placed in church or monastic almshouses, and until then they were engaged in baking prosphora; mothers of adult and well-off children were supported by the latter. All of this was already practiced in the dioceses and was now merely officially sanctioned. With the approval of the 1764 staffing regulations, the almshouses attached to the diocesan administrations received 5 rubles per resident, and from 1797 onward, 10 rubles per year. The Holy Synod ordered that the same assistance be paid to widows who were not admitted to almshouses; furthermore, it decreed that those among them who wished to take monastic vows be admitted to monasteries as a matter of priority. The almshouses’ funds were supplemented by income from cemetery churches, fines for misconduct by the clergy, and “voluntary” contributions from parishioners (one ruble from a priest, 50 kopecks from a deacon). Only the elderly and the sick were admitted to the almshouses [1258] . It soon became apparent that the almshouses’ funds were completely insufficient. Their only reliable source of funding was modest sums from the treasury—generally 500 rubles per diocese. Funds from other sources, on which the Holy Synod had relied too optimistically, came in irregularly. Although some diocesan bishops occasionally remembered the widows of rural clergy, on the whole the plight of the latter was not alleviated in any way, since the aforementioned decree applied only to the urban clergy. Reports from the diocesan bishops prompted the Chief Prosecutor, Prince A. N. Golitsyn, to demand in 1822 that the Synod address the problem of the destitute. A memorandum on this matter was submitted by Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow, proposing the establishment of “charitable societies for the poor clergy”[1259] under the diocesan administrations. The draft presented by the Holy Synod in 1823 contained the following measures: 1) the placement of donation cups in churches ; 2) annual allocations of 150,000 rubles from the proceeds of the sale of church candles; 3) the use of revenues from cemetery churches and fines, as provided for by the decree of 1799; 4) investing funds in the State Bank; 5) establishing the proposed trusteeship services in the dioceses under the management of several priests. Alexander I’s decree followed on August 12, 1823 ([1260] ) and yielded some positive results only thanks to the money from the sale of church candles—the other sources did not provide a steady income. When parish staff positions were reorganized in 1842, it was stipulated that 2% of salaries would be deducted and contributed to a pension fund. From 1791 to 1860, these contributions rose to 5.5 million rubles. Beginning in 1866, priests with 35 years of service were granted a pension of 90 rubles, and their widows received 65 rubles. In 1876, protodeacons were included in the pension system, and in 1880, deacons were added (65 rubles; 50 rubles for their widows). In 1878, priests’ pensions were raised to 130 rubles, and those of their widows to 90 rubles. Starting in 1866, 6–12 rubles were deducted annually from the salaries of urban priests, 2–5 rubles from those of rural priests, 2–5 rubles from urban deacons, and 1–3 rubles from rural deacons, and contributed to the pension fund [1261] . The vibrant spirit of the 1860s manifested itself first and foremost in the Oryol Diocese, where the first church Mutual Aid Society was established (1864), and then in the Samara Diocese with the organization there of the first diocesan emeritus (pension—Ed.) fund (1866); both institutions operated on a voluntary basis [1262] . With the transfer of the Synodal Pension Fund to the state treasury in 1887, the clergy felt somewhat more secure, as pensions were no longer dependent on the financial condition of the diocesan funds [1263] . These state measures were supplemented in 1902 by the Charter on Pensions and Lump-Sum Benefits for Diocesan Clergy [1264] . At the same time, the aforementioned church mutual aid organizations continued to exist. However, the amount of clergy pensions was still far from meeting state standards; raising them to the level of civil servants’ pensions was provided for in a bill introduced to the Fourth State Duma by the Octobrists, but there was no time to debate it. Thus, the issue of clergy pensions had not been fully resolved by the end of the Synodal period.

§ 17. The Social Condition of the Parish Clergy

a) The moral, emotional, and mental state of the White clergy depended decisively on the combination of conditions in which the clerical class had emerged and developed. Furthermore, the specific features of the legal status and material support of the white clergy profoundly influenced its place in society, and above all—its relationship with the parish, as well as its entire activity.

Pastoral ministry presupposes close communion between the clergy and the flock. But the clergy was organized as a closed class and was thus separated from the faithful, which was, of course, a major obstacle. The urban clergy dealt with a relatively well-off population, whereas the more numerous rural clergy ministered to peasants whose economic circumstances varied greatly across the different regions of this vast country. The clergy’s lack of financial security placed them in a position of dependence on the peasants, and this hindered the freedom of pastoral ministry, which required special efforts precisely among the rural population.

The development of serfdom significantly altered the situation of the rural clergy. This factor, which played such a major role from the early 18th to the mid-19th century, is underestimated in the works of historians [1265] . The main processes that shaped the serf system took place on private estates. The original provisions of the 1649 Code and subsequent laws bound the peasant to the land he cultivated and on which he lived, but not to the landowner personally [1266] . It was only Peter I, who, through a hierarchical system of rights and obligations, tied the estates to the state, that changed these legal relationships, granting the landowner a whole range of rights over the peasant and making him an intermediary between the peasantry and the state. This foundation was subsequently fleshed out by customary law and, in this form, was finally codified under Nicholas I in Volume 10 of the Code of Laws [1267] . From then on, the landowner became not only de facto but also de jure the owner of the peasants inhabiting his land. For a century and a half, the rural clergy was not merely a witness to this process but was directly affected by it at every stage. It found itself dependent on the noble landowner; although this dependence was not codified in law, it was, in practice, quite evident and grew steadily stronger. The landowner had sufficient power to determine, at his own discretion, the relations between the clergy and the peasants. Economically, the priest was in his hands: the clergy’s well-being depended directly on what land the landowner chose to allocate to him. The rural clergy was subject to three authorities: the state, the diocesan bishop, and the landowner; the latter’s authority was the closest and most tangible to them. This authority persisted even after the abolition of serfdom, having a very detrimental effect on the clergy’s authority in the eyes of the peasants. Seeking protection from the landowner’s abuses from ecclesiastical superiors or the state was a hopeless endeavor [1268] .

The secularization and Europeanization of Russian society resulting from Peter’s reforms initially affected only the upper classes and only gradually penetrated the lower classes. Under Peter I, the privileged position of the nobility was, as it were, balanced by the special duties of public service imposed upon it. In 1762, these duties were abolished by Peter III. Many nobles left government service and returned to their estates, where they stood out from the rest of the population—at least outwardly—through their urban attire and Europeanized manners. Their inner alienation ran even deeper and concerned, not least, their traditional relations with the Church and the clergy. Even in the Muscovite state, there were isolated skeptics and freethinkers among the boyars and the service nobility. Now, however, under the influence of a very superficial acquaintance with the ideas of the Enlightenment—and sometimes simply as a provincial imitation of the free manners of high society—disbelief and contempt for church doctrine and rituals began to grow among the landed nobility. As a result, a contemptuous attitude toward the clergy began to emerge in the upper echelons of 18th-century Russian society. The nobles who had returned to their estates saw nothing in the clergy but ignorance, superstition, and peasant-like behavior. All of this placed the clergy, in the eyes of the nobility, on the same level as serfs. A clergyman was not only effectively subject to the noble landowner but also stood below him in social standing, being isolated in this regard as well. His lack of education was mocked, his morality was deemed insufficient, and his pastoral work was treated with irony.

Europeanization divided society into the upper class—the nobility and the intelligentsia (19th century)—on the one hand, and the masses of the urban and peasant populations on the other. The elite had lost all sense of the traditional cultural values that continued to thrive among the people, while also remaining defining for theological schools and the clergy. The distinctiveness of theological education was perceived as a lack of education. It cannot be denied that, due to the traditional nature of their education, the clergy lagged far behind social development, especially in the 19th century, as Europeanization—initially hasty and superficial—progressed and deepened. The clergy proved incapable of effective apologetics. Their sermons and teachings, composed according to established tradition, addressed the eternal questions of life, while the preachers simply had no understanding of contemporary problems—even though it was only through the lens of these problems that society could view such questions. The clergy was completely unprepared to tackle such challenges. The rigidity of theological educational institutions did not even allow for the raising of such issues.

Peter I, who sought—for his own particular reasons—to integrate the clergy into the state system he had transformed, imposed upon them additional duties—unrelated to their ministry—that hindered the fulfillment of their pastoral responsibilities. Peter I viewed the clergy, as Y. F. Samarin aptly observed, “as a special class of state officials to whom the state had entrusted the moral education of the people. But since the clergy’s sole purpose was to serve the state—and nothing else—its structure, administration, and activities consequently had to be determined by the state as a whole”[1269] . These new state obligations—which did not exist in Muscovite Russia and were essentially of a police nature—weighed heavily on the conscience of the clergy and undermined the parishioners’ trust in them [1270] .

b) Throughout the Synodal period, the clergy was subject to criticism from individuals who often neither knew nor sought to understand the causes of the shortcomings they condemned. I. T. Pososhkov, whom we are already familiar with, belongs to the category of critics who probed the root causes and sought ways to remedy the situation. As early as the very beginning of the reforms, in the first years of the 18th century, he recognized the shortcomings of the church’s organization and their impact on the clergy’s situation. He fully shared Peter I’s commitment to enlightenment, though he was unwilling to sacrifice the traditional foundations of the Moscow church. “The priesthood is the pillar and foundation of all human salvation,” he believed. “They (the priests—I. S.) are our shepherds; they are our fathers; they are our leaders.” Unfortunately, he believed, the clergy were insufficiently prepared for this mission, primarily due to the fault of the bishops, who paid little attention to this matter. Pastoral work suffered because of material hardship, which forced the clergy to engage in farming and demeaned them in the eyes of the peasants. The state and the hierarchy must not neglect the clergy [1271] . Cabinet Minister Volynsky (1689–1740), V. N. Tatishchev (1686–1750), and Metropolitan Arseny Matseevich [1272] also spoke and wrote about the clergy’s financial insecurity. A. Bolotov’s memoirs contain numerous critical remarks regarding the poverty of the clergy in the second half of the 18th century and their dependence on landowners [1273] . In the nobility’s instructions to the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws in 1767, numerous reproaches were directed at the clergy for its lack of education, while the clergy’s own instructions were filled with complaints about the contemptuous attitude of the nobility [1274] . Somewhat later, none other than Metropolitan Platon Levshin of Moscow identified the cause of the clergy’s ineffective pastoral ministry not only in their lack of education but primarily in their oppressed status. Like Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of St. Petersburg, he sought to improve the clergy’s financial situation [1275] . In keeping with the moralizing spirit of the era, Metropolitan Platon viewed the theological school first and forem as an educational institution and only secondarily as a means of acquiring an education. Guided by considerations of the public good, Paul I also emphasized the educational role of the clergy in his decrees [1276] . The opinion of historian N. M. Karamzin on this matter is also interesting: it is not enough merely to increase the number of theological educational institutions; it is necessary to improve the moral education of the clergy and “not ordain 18-year-old students as priests”; “It is not enough to provide Russia with good governors; it is necessary to provide it with good priests”[1277] . Emperor Nicholas I shared Karamzin’s views and, in 1826, instructed the Holy Synod to seek the opinion of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov on the matter of education. The memorandum received from the metropolitan discussed in detail the shortcomings of theological education and also mentioned the harm caused to the clergy by material hardship and isolation. One should not, Filaret wrote, compel seminary graduates to take holy orders if they have no inclination toward this ministry [1278] .

Among the publicists of the 1860s who, with the tacit approval of the censors, criticized the dark sides of church life and church organization in numerous open church and secular journals, I. S. Aksakov stands out for the uncompromising sharpness of his stance; N. V. Elagin was more cautious in his judgments [1279] . The book *Description of the Rural Clergy*, published in Russian in Leipzig in 1858 and widely circulated in Russia, caused a sensation [1280] . The publishers of the journal *Orthodox Review*, which began publication in Moscow in 1860—priests N. A. Sergievsky, G. P. Smirnov-Platonov, and P. A. Preobrazhensky, along with their colleague A. M. Ivantsov-Platonov—addressed issues concerning the Church as a whole. The latter also published his articles in I. S. Aksakov’s journals *Den* and *Moscow*, and later, in the 1880s, in *Rus*. Criticizing the state-controlled church, he wrote about the urgent need for comprehensive church reform. In 1881–1882, Ivantsov-Platonov published the articles “On the Restoration of an Elected Clergy” and “On Russian Church Administration,” which attracted widespread interest [1281] . In St. Petersburg, from 1861 to 1865, the journal *The Spirit of a Christian* was published under the editorship of priests D. I. Florinsky, A. V. Gumilevsky, I. S. Flerov, and I. G. Zarkevich, featuring numerous articles on the situation of the parish clergy. Some of the articles were written by readers of the journal, which, together with the many letters received by the editorial office, attested to the keen interest of the church community [1282] .

The contributors to these journals were predominantly members of the parish clergy. Their articles demonstrate, on the one hand, a thorough scholarly knowledge and, on the other, a keen understanding of the social relations of the time. This shows just how much vitality—a desire to prove themselves and establish their standing—lay dormant within the parish clergy. Important material on parish issues can also be found in the *Diocesan Gazette*, which began publication in the 1860s in all dioceses [1283] .

A large number of articles in these journals were devoted to the issue of restoring elections for filling parish positions. It was noted that elections would strengthen mutual trust between the clergy and parishioners and revitalize church life as a whole. Unfortunately, the authors themselves had to admit that the parishes were not prepared for such a reform and did not yet have the self-governing organizational structure necessary to carry it out. In view of the stubborn resistance from the Holy Synod, the Chief Prosecutor, and the government, the problem seemed completely intractable and indeed remained so until the end of the synodal period. Nor did it have any effect that issues of parish organization were vigorously discussed in the Pre-Council Assembly, proposals for corresponding reforms were put forward, and even many bishops showed themselves to be supporters of the reforms at the meetings [1284] .

Among the various critical remarks regarding the isolation of the clergy, the statements by high-ranking government officials deserve special attention. In this regard, the report by the governor of Arkhangelsk, Prince S. P. Gagarin, titled “The State of Schism in Northern Russia” (1868), is of particular interest. Gagarin sees the main obstacle to pastoral work in the fact that the clergy is insular, like a caste with its own way of life, traditions, and customs, with its own system of education and upbringing, fundamentally different from that of the rest of society, which leads to mutual alienation [1285] .

c) The wealth of material on the life of the clergy, first made available to the general public thanks to the journalism of the 1860s and 1870s, quickly attracted the attention of writers—the rural priest, like the priest in a provincial town, became a literary character. Ever since Gogol, Russian fiction has always responded to society’s interest in real-life problems. In 1862, N. G. Pomyalovsky, a former student of a theological seminary, published *Sketches of the Seminary*. With ruthless candor, the writer exposed the spiritless and soulless system of upbringing and education in theological institutions. The book was met with an enthusiastic response from the public [1286] . Then, in 1872, the novel *The Cathedral Folk* by N. S. Leskov, one of the most significant Russian writers, was published. In this novel, alongside its artistic mastery, what captivates the reader is the extraordinarily vivid and realistic portrayal of various types of Russian clergy in a provincial town during the reign of Nicholas I, living and serving in the oppressive atmosphere of the state church. In other works, the writer repeatedly returned to the theme of clerical life. Examples include *The Unbaptized Priest* (1877) and *Trifles of a Bishop’s Life* (1878), which depict the relationships between bishops and parish clergy. Leskov’s masterpiece “At the End of the World” (1877) tells the story of Siberian missionaries. His later novellas and short stories are devoted to the theme of popular religiosity [1287] .

Thus, the clergy entered literature, and an entirely new genre emerged that persisted until the end of the Synodal period. The literary output grew ever more abundant, bringing to the surface both the important and the trivial. Much of it was merely a manifestation of a bare tendency: either positive and apologetic or negative and liberal, sometimes even anti-religious. The works of S. Eleonsky (pseudonym of S. N. Milovsky) carried a great charge of negative emotions, S. I. Gusev-Orenburgsky, a former hereditary priest who had renounced his ordination [1288] . S. Ya. Elpatievsky, the son of a deacon who had joined the Narodnik movement, sharply criticizes the way of life and cultural backwardness of the rural clergy in his numerous stories, while at the same time idealizing the people. A. V. Kruglov, on the contrary, highlights the positive aspects of the clergy’s life, focusing primarily on the religious education of youth during the last decade of his career. I. N. Potapenko, especially in his major novel *In Active Service* (1890), portrayed the idealistic pastor. A. A. Izmailov, a writer of limited talent, portrays the clergy in a positive light. A. P. Chekhov’s short story “The Bishop” and his novella “The Steppe,” among others, are unforgettable.[1289]

Of great significance to historians are the notes by parish priests published in journals. They reflect everyday life, customs, and traditions, as well as the activities of the clergy and the influence of state and church policies on them [1290] .

d) Society’s interest in its own problems and the breadth of the discussion surrounding them could not help but have an impact on the clergy. Journalistic writings actively stirred its dormant and, until then, suppressed forces. A new type of parish priest began to appear with increasing frequency—one who sought new paths for pastoral ministry and worked zealously to improve parish life. Brotherhoods dedicated to charity and public education sprang up in church communities. First in St. Petersburg and Moscow, and then in the provinces, a large number of parish schools for children and adults began to open. Another innovation was Sunday schools for adults, which first appeared in St. Petersburg, where clergy taught free of charge [1291] . A striking example of such a pastor was the priest A. V. Gumilevsky (1830–1869). After graduating from the Theological Academy, he was ordained a priest in 1856 and from then on devoted himself to selfless pastoral work. In 1860, he organized a Sunday school in his parish, and in 1861, a parish library and a brotherhood. His articles in the journal *The Spirit of a Christian* resonated widely. His activism began to trouble the Holy Synod, which transferred him to Narva. However, Gumilevsky’s admirers in St. Petersburg managed to secure his return to the capital. He was assigned a position at the Obukhov Hospital, where he devoted himself entirely to a new cause—the care of infectious disease hospitals—and soon, in May 1869, he died of typhus [1292] . His work was continued by Archpriest P. A. Preobrazhensky (1828–1893), one of the founders of the journal *Orthodox Review*, and Priest A. T. Nikolsky (1821–1876), who opened an orphanage and a school at his church and was a regular contributor to the newspapers *Den* and *Golos*. Priest A. I. Pokrovsky (1821–1885), who later became a bishop and died as Archbishop of Volyn, was an active contributor to the journal *Dukhovnaya Beseda* and organized catechism courses at his church. Priest V. I. Poletaev was actively involved in the religious education of the people [1293] . The work of Priest I. N. Polisadov among the workers—to whom he preached even outside the church walls—can serve as an example of the search for new approaches to pastoral ministry. He enjoyed great authority and the grateful love of the people, as evidenced by his funeral, which was attended by thousands of poor people. Archpriest G. A. Smiryagin († 1883) devoted his 45-year ministry at the Church of the Presentation in St. Petersburg to charitable causes, having founded the first charitable committee at his church as early as 1855 [1294] . Archpriest N. I. Bryantsev († 1888) was noted for the success of his missionary work among the Jewish population. V. I. Barsov (1817–1896) was involved in charitable work and was known as a talented schoolteacher of the Law of God. I. I. Demkin organized a shelter, worked to secure affordable housing for the poor, and opened an almshouse attached to his church. Priest A. V. Rozhdestvensky zealously fought against drunkenness among the people; to this end, he organized a brotherhood and published a number of popular magazines [1295] . Archpriest F. N. Ornatsky, curator of 28 public schools in the capital, was known as a talented pastor and preacher during the last 20 years of the Synodal period [1296] . Archpriest and later Bishop V. P. Nechaev (1823–1905) served in Moscow for three decades; together with the priest (later Archbishop of Kharkiv) Ambrose Klyucharev, he published the magazine *Spiritually Beneficial Reading*. Klyucharev, a brilliant orator, delivered public lectures on religious issues that earned enthusiastic approval from the public but drew the displeasure of the church hierarchy [1297] .

In this context, one cannot overlook the activities of the famous Archpriest John of Kronstadt (Sergiev) († December 20, 1908), who was revered almost as a saint and was an outstanding preacher and pastor. Beginning in 1882, he launched extensive charitable work in Kronstadt: he founded a workhouse with workshops, a school for the poor, a low-cost soup kitchen, a women’s almshouse, and a children’s shelter, and he fought vigorously against drunkenness among dockworkers. He was a vivid, charismatic figure; pilgrims from all corners of Russia came to him to hear him speak and to seek spiritual strength in the face of their misfortunes [1298] .

Unfortunately, sources on the activities of the provincial clergy are scarce, but it would be unfair to underestimate them. By 1897, there were at least 17,260 charitable brotherhoods and associations operating in conjunction with churches in Russia. These organizations owed their existence primarily to the initiative of the parish clergy. This figure gives pause for thought and serves as compelling evidence of the breadth and intensity of pastoral work [1299] .

d) If the government and the Holy Synod were compelled to carry out certain reforms (to eliminate the insularity of the clergy, in the field of theological education, to improve the standard of living of the clergy, etc.), this is due in no small part to the active efforts of the parish clergy in their communities. Unfortunately, they were prevented from fully realizing their potential by the reactionary course adopted by the government as early as the second half of the 1860s and finally consolidated in the 1880s under Alexander III [1300] . At the same time, opposition sentiments were growing stronger in society, which, in their extremes, took on revolutionary forms. In terms of worldview, political radicalism was matched by positivist materialism, which began to take hold not only among political extremists but also among broad circles of the educated liberal bourgeoisie. The religious conservatism of the clergy, preserved and nurtured in the family and at school, was meant to counter these trends. For the most part, the clergy was convinced of the need for ecclesiastical and political reforms, and yet, on the whole, in the eyes of liberal society, it acquired a reputation as a reactionary class [1301] .

The fact that the government deliberately imposed and encouraged a conservative educational system in parish schools, placing their administration in the hands of the clergy, intensified hostility toward the clergy in a society that, for ideological reasons, rejected church schools for laypeople. Even within the Ministry of Public Education, there were considerable doubts as to whether teaching should be entrusted to priests; however, the ministry shared the sentiments of the leading circles of the zemstvo [1302] , who intended to take control of all public education into their own hands. The position of those who held the deciding vote on the issue of parish schools—such as Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev—was quite contradictory. He established parish schools to combat the nihilism of modern society and to uphold his nationalist church policy, which he also imposed on the clergy. At the same time, he described the very clergy to whom he had entrusted the management of the schools as uneducated and lazy [1303] .

Those from clerical families, influenced by liberal ideas, showed little inclination to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. After graduating from seminary, they enrolled in military academies and universities or entered the civil service. The parents themselves were increasingly eager to send their sons to secular rather than religious educational institutions. For members of other social classes, the priesthood did not seem appealing; only a few idealists were willing to go against the prevailing social trends and enter the clergy.

The political upsurge of 1905–1907 revived the hopes of the clergy; magazines and newspapers, with the active participation of clergymen, began to speak optimistically about church reform. The debate revealed the existence of radical groups on both the right and the left, but at the same time demonstrated the prevalence of moderate conservatism and liberalism among the clergy. The differing interests and opinions of the episcopate and the parish clergy became apparent in the discussions on church reform. In general, the clergy by no means sought to reduce the discussion of church reform to political disputes over current issues. Meanwhile, the political situation was bound to draw them into the struggle between the parties. The clergy gained the right to vote and to be elected to the State Duma. Deputies from among its ranks aligned themselves with various parties and began to take part in debates, speaking as representatives of their respective parties. But Russian society, unaccustomed to the subtleties of parliamentarianism, tended to perceive these partisan speeches as reflecting the position of the clergy and reacted vehemently to its supposedly reactionary sentiments. The government and the church hierarchy, on the other hand, expressed their indignation at what they considered the clergy’s unexpected liberalism. The debate over the Holy Synod’s budget gave the Duma parties a pretext for harsh criticism of the parish clergy, who were held responsible for all the ills of the state church. The injustice of such accusations requires no refutation. The situation was further complicated by the fact that the government was attempting to organize the clergy into a pro-government party (see § 9). Far-right groups of clergy (whose members included both monks and bishops) emerged, espousing chauvinism. Their journals not only preached the union of autocracy and Orthodoxy but also incited hostility against Jews and Catholics. Bishops and priests from these groups engaged in active monarchist agitation in their sermons, which was not suppressed by the government or the Holy Synod and was therefore, in the public’s view, endorsed by them. But on the whole, this extremism on the part of a small minority and the risk of becoming embroiled in the struggles of political parties remained superficial phenomena [1304] .

When the Pre-Council Conference was convened in 1912, hope for major reform was rekindled among the White clergy, who patiently bore the hardships of their ministry in anticipation of it [1305] .

e) The educational and scholarly activities of the White clergy deserve a separate discussion [1306] . Until the 1960s, scholarly monastics reigned supreme in both of these fields, admitting to academic chairs—along with a certain number of secular scholars—only a negligible percentage of the White clergy. Beginning in the 1860s, the proportion of the latter in the professorial and teaching staff steadily increased; this trend was not halted even by the reactionary measures of 1884 and continued right up until 1917. The white clergy produced such outstanding scholars as G. Pavsky at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, and A. V. Gorsky and A. F. Golubinsky at the Moscow Theological Academy. It is noteworthy that in the field of theological scholarship, the secular clergy managed to contribute far more than the privileged scholarly monastic order, which had been specifically trained for this purpose. In the second half of the 19th century, numerous scholarly works were published by members of the secular clergy [1307] . Research by historian M. M. Sukhomlinov shows that as early as the 18th century, members of the secular clergy were actively involved in the work of the Russian Academy of Sciences [1308] . In 1863, the Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment was founded in Moscow on the initiative of the secular clergy. It organized scholarly and popular science lectures, published the journal *Sunday Conversations* beginning in 1870, and in 1869 established the *Moscow Diocesan Gazette*, which, alongside official publications, also featured articles on the history of the diocese. In the 1870s, a group of priests published a translation of *The Book of Rules of the Holy Apostles, the Ecumenical and Local Councils, and the Holy Fathers*. The *Readings of the Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment*, published from 1863 to 1896, featured a vast number of letters from readers— , and others—which constitute indispensable material for historians. In the provinces, there were also numerous societies for ecclesiastical archaeology and history, established by the parish clergy. The collaboration of the White clergy in the *Diocesan Gazette*, which published articles on local history and regional studies as well as interesting documents from the archives, was very important for the development of historical research in the dioceses. In some cases, the *Diocesan Gazette* is the only available source on the history of the dioceses. Issues from the 1860s–1880s are of particular value, containing numerous monographs that have not yet been sufficiently utilized in academic research [1309] . The large number of priests and deacons who, after the 1905 Revolution, wished to become auditors or students at universities demonstrates that the thirst for knowledge among the White clergy was great. In the summer of 1908, the Holy Synod was forced to issue a decree prohibiting priests and deacons from studying at institutions of higher education, because such study “does not correspond to the immediate and true tasks of pastoral ministry”[1310] .

Oppressed by the state authorities and the hierarchy, and despised by liberal society, the parish clergy humbly carried out their ecclesiastical ministry throughout the Synodal period as a self-evident duty, without receiving any recognition for it, even though it was fully deserved. It bore the main burden of preserving the Church, truly doing everything within its power.

§ 18. Special Groups of Clergy: Military, Court, and Overseas

a) During the Synodal period, three distinct groups emerged within the clergy: the naval, court, and overseas clergy. In terms of administration, material support, and social status, these groups of the white clergy occupied a separate position within the Russian Church.

The naval clergy was established on the personal initiative of Peter I to ensure spiritual care and the regular celebration of divine services in the army and navy. It is impossible to determine the exact date when clergy first appeared there. Beginning in 1706, a special levy—known as “podmozhnoye den’ga”—was collected from parishes to support regimental priests and naval hieromonks. The Military Regulations of 1716 and the Naval Service Regulations of 1720 describe in detail the duties of priests assigned to regiments in the event of war. One of the decrees of 1719 regulated matters of administration and official supervision: a chief priest was appointed in the army, and a chief hieromonk in the navy. The financial support for this group was initially insufficient, as the support funds were received irregularly. The situation gradually improved after Catherine II ordered the construction of churches for the Guards regiments, enabling the priests to earn additional income from performing religious services for the civilian population [1311] . In the early period, the military clergy had not yet been organized into a separate group and, in peacetime, were subordinate to the bishop of the diocese where the regiment was stationed [1312] . In 1797, Emperor Paul I, who held the then-Field-Ober-Priest, Archpriest P. Ya. Ozeretskovsky (1758–1807), in particularly high regard, ordered that in the Military Charter of 1797 all army and navy clergy be placed under the authority of the Chief Chaplain of the Army and Navy; Ozeretskovsky was appointed to this post. He was knighted by the Order of Malta, became a member of the Holy Synod in 1799, was awarded a miter in 1800, and was finally granted the title of Chief Archpriest (1800). During his tenure, Ozeretskovsky succeeded in effectively removing the clergy under his authority from the jurisdiction of the Holy Synod, until Alexander I restored the Holy Synod’s supremacy by a special decree. Ozeretskovsky presented Paul I with a plan for a special military seminary that would train military chaplains; this plan was implemented in 1801 by Alexander I. In addition, Ozeretskovsky secured a regular salary for the military clergy, along with a pension after 20 years of service, which significantly improved the standard of living for the clergy under his jurisdiction compared to that of parish clergy [1313] .

Alexander I appointed a second chief chaplain for His Majesty’s General Staff and the Guard; from 1844 onward, he held the title of chief chaplain of the General Staff of the Guard and Grenadiers. In 1840, he was appointed chief chaplain of the Special Caucasian Corps, to which, beginning in 1846, the churches of the Cossack line troops (in the North Caucasus) were also subordinate. It was not until 1867 that the latter came under the jurisdiction of the bishop of the Caucasus Diocese, based in Stavropol. The plan of Chief Prosecutor Count N. P. Protasov to establish the office of Archbishop of the Army and Navy was never carried out [1314] .

The relationship between the head of the military clergy and the Holy Synod was complicated by constant disagreements, especially during the tenures of the energetic chief chaplains V. I. Kutnevich (1858–1865) and M. I. Bogoslovsky (1865–1871), although the Holy Synod had already granted the chief chaplains the authority of diocesan bishops as early as 1853 [1315] . In 1858, the title “chief chaplain” was changed to “chief priest.” In 1883, authority over all military and naval clergy was once again concentrated in the hands of a single chief priest of the army and navy. That same year, a special commission was formed under the Holy Synod, chaired by Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov, whose task was to draft new administrative regulations for the military clergy. The commission’s intention to place regimental priests under the authority of diocesan bishops met with resistance from the Minister of War, and this proposal had to be abandoned. The Regulations drafted by the commission were approved by the emperor in 1890. The chief priest was now called the protopresbyter of the naval clergy and was to base his activities on a spiritual administration modeled after diocesan consistories. His candidacy was nominated by the Holy Synod and approved by the emperor. In purely ecclesiastical matters, he was subordinate to the Synod; in all other respects, he was guided by the orders of the Minister of War and the Minister of the Navy in accordance with the Code of Military Regulations (Part 3, Book 1) and the Regulations of 1890. The Spiritual Administration consisted of three members and had its own chancery. The protopresbyter was responsible for all churches in regiments, fortresses, military hospitals, and educational institutions, with the exception of Siberia, where the vast distances made it necessary for them to be subordinate to diocesan bishops.

Many churches under the jurisdiction of the War Ministry also served as parish churches, especially in the Western Region, Poland, Siberia, and Central Asia [1316] , and therefore the military clergy had the right to perform religious services for the local population. During military operations, the clergy accompanied their units on campaigns, conducting services in special tents that served as mobile churches equipped with all necessary furnishings. On the battlefield, the priest alleviated the suffering of the wounded and prepared the dying for their final moments. The history of wars—the defense of Sevastopol (1854–1855) and Port Arthur (1904–1905), the Battle of Tsushima in 1905, and World War I—is replete with examples of the courage of military chaplains, who selflessly fulfilled their pastoral duties in every situation. When necessary, military units were also assigned Catholic priests, Evangelical pastors, Muslim mullahs, and even members of the Buddhist clergy.

Starting in 1890, the Office of the Protopresbyter published the journal *Bulletin of the Naval Clergy*; in addition to a section on orders and directives, it featured articles on religious topics and materials on pastoral work among soldiers [1317] .

b) The court clergy already existed in Muscovite Russia. It was usually headed by the tsar’s confessor, who oversaw the churches and clergy of the palace. In most cases, he was a highly influential figure. Some Moscow cathedrals, such as the Cathedral of the Annunciation, were considered palace churches, and their clergy were counted among the court clergy. As the royal family grew in the 18th and 19th centuries, so did the number of palaces, each of which invariably had its own private chapel. The tsar’s confessor, to whom these churches and their parishes were subordinate, held the title of protopresbyter of the court clergy and, in rank, came immediately after the bishops. The churches and clergy were supported by funds from the palace treasury. The tsar’s confessors enjoyed a certain degree of independence from the Holy Synod and often even interfered in its affairs. Archpriest F. I. Dubyansky († 1771), confessor to Empress Elizabeth, even influenced the appointment of bishops and managed to fully retain his position under Empress Catherine II [1318] . Her confessor, Archpriest K. I. Panfilov (1770–1794), followed his predecessor’s example in every respect, thereby incurring the displeasure of the hierarchs. Nevertheless, the Empress made him a member of the Holy Synod in 1774 and granted him a miter in 1786. This set a precedent for later awarding the miter to other distinguished priests, primarily from among the court and military clergy [1319] . As members of the Holy Synod, the imperial confessors continued to exert significant influence on church administration in the 19th century. This applies first and foremost to N. V. Muzovsky (1822–1848) and V. B. Bazhanov (1853–1883), as well as to the confessor of the last emperor and his wife, A. P. Vasilyev (1910–1917)[1320] .

c) The Orthodox clergy abroad—at embassies, diplomatic missions, certain consulates, and at the courts of members of the ruling house residing outside Russia—fell under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and in ecclesiastical matters, from 1867 onward, were subordinate to the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg. Their appointment and dismissal were carried out by the Holy Synod in agreement with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who, according to the budgets of 1867, 1875, and 1910, was responsible for the maintenance of the clergy abroad. The number of Russian churches abroad grew rapidly in the 19th century. As of 1911, there were 22 embassy churches in Western Europe, 30 churches in resort areas, 8 chapels at the burial sites of members of the imperial family, 7 churches of the Brotherhood of St. Vladimir in Berlin, and 12 private chapels. Starting in 1907, under the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, a special vicariate was established to oversee matters concerning churches abroad, with the exception of the churches in Athens and Constantinople, which were under local jurisdiction [1321] .

The first Russian church abroad in Western Europe was established at the Russian trading house Risgården in Stockholm and was intended for Russian merchants under the treaties of 1617 and 1661, but the church building itself was not constructed until 1765 [1322] In Warsaw, an embassy church had existed since 1674, under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan of Kyiv [1323] . In 1716, an embassy church was opened in London. Among the priests who served there, Archpriest E. I. Popov (1842–1875) deserves special mention, as he contributed greatly to familiarizing the Anglican Church with Orthodoxy [1324] .

The first Orthodox church in Berlin was opened in 1718. By the 19th century, there were already many churches in Germany: at resorts, as well as at gravesites and in private chapels. Some of the priests who served there made efforts to spread knowledge of Orthodoxy among German Protestants. Among them were Archpriest I. I. Bazarov in Wiesbaden and Stuttgart (1844–1895), Archpriest I. F. Seredinsky in Berlin (1859–1886), and, of course, Archpriest A. P. Maltsev, also in Berlin (1886–1914), who translated the most important liturgical books into German and opened many Orthodox churches. In 1890, he founded a charitable society and the Brotherhood of St. Vladimir, established the Alexanderheim compound in Tegel (a suburb of Berlin—Ed.), and set up a Russian cemetery there with an attached church, which was consecrated in 1908. In 1913–1914, he published the journal *Tserkovnaya Pravda* (“Church Truth”), which featured articles on the history of Orthodox churches abroad and on issues related to the reform of the Russian Church [1325] . Many churches were established in Austria-Hungary. Starting in 1762, a permanent priest served at the church attached to the Russian Embassy in Vienna. On the initiative of Archpriest M. I. Raevsky (1845–1884) and with the support of Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev, a large church was built there with state funds and consecrated in 1899. Churches were opened in Karlsbad, Marienbad, Franzensbad, and Prague [1326] .

A church had existed at the embassy in Paris since 1720. The local priest, I. V. Vasilyev (1845–1866), succeeded in having a large church built there in 1861; the services held there attracted many foreign visitors [1327] .

The Russian clergy abroad rendered a great service to Russian theology by doing much to familiarize people with other denominations, about which Russians previously had only the vaguest idea. From the first half of the 19th century, many graduates of theological academies sought positions abroad in order to learn about various philosophical movements, primarily in Germany. They established relationships with clergy of other denominations, introducing them to the basic concepts of Orthodox doctrine and, above all, to its liturgical rites. They played a major role in ensuring that the complete ignorance regarding Orthodoxy that prevailed in the West was gradually replaced by a more accurate understanding of it. It was only with the arrival of a large wave of Russian émigrés in 1918 that Orthodox priests and theologians managed, step by step, to dispel the deeply rooted prejudices and misunderstandings regarding Orthodoxy, which were stubbornly held precisely by authoritative university theologians—such as A. von Harnack [1328] . But the groundwork had already been laid by the Russian clergy abroad in the 19th century.[1329]

Archpriest S. K. Sabinin (1789–1863), a priest in Copenhagen (1823–1837) and Weimar (1837–1863), compiled the “Biblical Old Testament Lexicon”[1330] at the request of Metropolitan Filaret and based on Protestant literature. Archpriest T. F. Seredinsky (1822–1897), a priest at the embassy church in Naples (1846–1859) and later in Berlin (1859–1886), studied Catholic theology and published many articles on Catholicism and Protestantism in Russian journals [1331] . Archpriest I. I. Bazarov (1819–1895) was one of the first to introduce Germans to the Orthodox Church and its liturgical practices [1332] . Archpriest M. I. Raevsky (1811–1884), a priest in Stockholm (1834–1844) and Vienna (1845–1884), was a proponent of Pan-Slavic unity and established close ties with Slavs in Austria, primarily with the Czechs. He was one of the initiators of the Slavic Congress in Moscow in 1867 and an active member of the Slavic Charitable Society in St. Petersburg. He translated the Euchologion, the Prayer Book, and the Canon of Andrew of Crete from Greek into German [1333] . Among the ranks of the foreign clergy of the “ ” was Protopresbyter I. L. Yanyshev (1826–1910). After serving as a priest in Wiesbaden (1851–1856), Berlin (1858), and again in Wiesbaden (1858–1866), he became rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy (1866–1883) and a professor of moral theology, authoring numerous works in this field. From 1883 to 1910, Yanyshev served as spiritual advisor to the imperial family, protopresbyter of the court clergy, and member of the Holy Synod [1334] .

Archpriest A. P. Maltsev holds a place of honor among the clergy abroad. During his ministry in Berlin (1886–1914), he maintained close ties with German theologians. His principal achievement is the translation into German of nearly all the liturgical texts of the Orthodox Church. He provided these numerous volumes with introductions—which are in-depth articles on liturgy—and strove to make his translation suitable for singing to Russian church music [1335] .

Among the Russian priests in France, it is worth mentioning D. S. Vershinsky (1790–1858), a former professor of philosophy at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy and later a priest at the embassy church in Paris (1835–1848). He translated the Church Fathers into Russian, as well as works by German philosophers. Thanks to him, Russian theologians were first introduced to the various movements within French Catholicism [1336] . Archpriest I. V. Vasilyev (1827–1892) contributed to the spread of knowledge about Orthodoxy in France. Under his influence, Abbé Guettee (1816–1892) converted to Orthodoxy, and together they published the journal *L’Union chrétienne*. Vasilyev also involved Old Catholics in his ecumenical work with the aim of uniting them with the Orthodox Church [1337] . N. V. Orlov, a cantor and master at the St. Petersburg Academy, contributed greatly to raising awareness of Orthodoxy in England by contributing to English theological journals and translating several liturgical books. N. D. Belorosov (1863–1873), priest of the embassy church in Brussels, published works in Russia on the history of the Anglican Church [1338] . I. L. Yanyshev, who established ties with the Old Catholics in Germany, played a leading role in the 1870s and 1880s in bringing them closer to Orthodoxy.

Priests serving in the United States of America held a special position among the clergy abroad. While in Western Europe prior to 1917, the regular churchgoers were almost exclusively embassy staff—most of whom were temporarily stationed abroad—in America there were many immigrants from Russia and other Slavic countries who had well-organized communities. A separate diocese was established there, which was subordinate to the Holy Synod. This topic will be discussed in detail at [1339] .

Chapter V. Religious Education

§ 19. Theological Education Before the School Reform of 1808–1814

a) In the 17th-century Muscovite state, the level of education among the clergy was completely unsatisfactory, although the very idea of the need for theological institutions to train parish clergy found broad support among the hierarchy. The Local Council of 1667 officially acknowledged the clergy’s lack of education; however, no decisive measures were taken to remedy the situation. The few monastic schools that sprang up from time to time in Moscow during the 17th century proved unviable due to a shortage of qualified teachers and were quickly closed. There was also a clear shortage of students themselves [1340] . Religious formalism prevailed in Moscow society, by virtue of which it was considered sufficient to preserve the purity of rituals, while the truth of the Orthodox faith was taken for granted. This gave rise to a distrust of “scholarship,” which, it was feared, could only lead to heresy. It was not until the 1680s that a school was established, which came to be known as the Helleno-Slavic School or Academy [1341] .

In the absence of diocesan schools, this sole educational institution in Moscow could not, of course, meet the need for the training of the clergy. This was all the more difficult because the last two patriarchs, Joachim and Adrian—both conservatives by conviction—did not give the school the necessary attention, despite the fact that Peter I, a fervent advocate of education, had repeatedly pointed out to Patriarch Adrian the great importance of schooling [1342] .

Each new generation of clergy consisted almost exclusively of the sons of clergymen; therefore, with the goal of creating an educated clergy, the first priority should have been to establish schools for their sons. In principle, the opportunity to become a clergyman was open to members of all social classes. However, the common practice of having church communities elect clergy meant that the candidates for vacant positions were almost always the sons of clergymen. They prepared for their future vocation in their parents’ homes, where they were taught to read and write and were introduced to liturgical practices. Judging by the reports of bishops and their representatives, who were tasked with examining candidates for the positions of priests and deacons, the results of such home education were, naturally, extremely meager. But for lack of better-prepared candidates, they had no choice but to ordain those with insufficient training [1343] .

Peter I issued a large number of decrees aimed at organizing schools [1344] . For example, the decree of February 28, 1714, mandated the creation of “arithmetic schools” for “persons” of all social classes with the aim of teaching them reading, writing, and arithmetic. Thus, according to the tsar’s decree, the sons of deacons and clerks were also required to attend these new secular schools [1345] . However, even before this decree was issued, there were bishops who were convinced of the need for schools for children of all social classes, but especially, of course, for future clergy. In 1700, Bishop John Maximovich of Chernigov (1697–1712) opened a Slavonic-Latin school for the clergy. Metropolitan Dimitri Tuptalo of Rostov (1702–1709) did the same. In Tobolsk, around 1703–1704, Metropolitan Philotheus Leshchinsky of Siberia (1702–1712, 1715–1728) founded a Slavonic-Russian school. Metropolitan Dorotheus Korotkov of Smolensk established a Slavic-Latin school in 1715. All of the bishops mentioned were natives of Little Russia and graduates of the Kiev Theological College. As early as the time of Metropolitan Peter Mohyla (1633–1646), much had been done in Kiev and the Kiev Diocese to educate the clergy, whose level of education there was much higher than in Muscovy. Among the Great Russian bishops, the only one who took an interest in opening schools was Metropolitan Job of Novgorod (1697–1716), who established a Slavic-Greek school in Novgorod and more than ten additional schools throughout his diocese. In all these schools, instruction was conducted without any fixed curriculum [1346] .

The foundations for the establishment of theological schools in Russia were laid solely by the “Spiritual Regulations,” which reflected not only the views of Theophan Prokopovich but also, to some extent, those of Peter I himself. Issues of education are addressed in Part 2 of the “Regulations,” in the section “Matters of the Bishops,” as well as in the section “School Buildings and the Teachers, Students, and Preachers Therein.”

In the section “Matters of the Bishops,” the “Spiritual Regulations” provide guidelines for the establishment of diocesan schools. Paragraph 9 states: “It is most beneficial for the reform of the Church that every bishop should have a school in or near his residence for the children of clergy or others destined for the priesthood”[1347] . Thus, to train priests, it was recommended to open schools accessible to young men of all social classes, not just the clergy. We will discuss later how the church authorities themselves gradually transformed schools intended for training future clergy into class-based educational institutions, closing access to them for members of other social classes. The “Spiritual Regulations” contain no guidelines regarding the organization or curricula of these schools, which in the 18th century were often called “episcopal schools.” It states only that young men who successfully complete the course are to be ordained as priests; “and if any of them choose the monastic order, then as archimandrites or abbots.” “And if a bishop ordains a person who has not studied at that school to the priesthood or to a monastic rank, bypassing a graduate and without just cause, he shall be subject to punishment, as determined by the Ecclesiastical College” (§ 10). The bishop was granted the right, after due examination, to expel unfit students from the school (§ 9). “But so that there may be no grumbling from the parents of the students regarding the great expense incurred for the teacher, for the purchase of books, and for the sustenance of their sons—who are studying far from their homes—it is fitting that the students be both fed and educated there using the bishop’s ready-made textbooks. And so that this may come to pass, the following arrangement is proposed: to take one-twentieth of all grain from the most distinguished monasteries in the diocese, and from the church lands where they are located, to take one-thirtieth of all grain” (§ 11). “As for the teacher or teachers themselves, the bishop would provide for their sustenance and a monetary allowance from the episcopal treasury, as determined by the Spiritual Collegium based on local circumstances” (§ 13). A comparison of these provisions with the section “School Buildings” makes it clear that elementary schools are meant here, which would provide the most basic general education. Since the organization and administration of theological schools were entrusted to the bishops, they ended up being largely dependent, at the local level, on the outlook and abilities of a particular diocesan bishop, as well as on the degree of his interest in these matters.

Theophan Prokopovich prefaces the section “Schoolhouses” with a lengthy introduction containing lofty reflections on the benefits of schools and education for the state and the Church. “Many speak wrongly, claiming that education is the cause of heresies… For good and sound teaching is of great benefit to both the fatherland and the Church, like a root and a foundation. But one must take great care to ensure that the teaching is good and well-founded.” After all, there have also been “fantastical teachings,” by which Theophanes means the casuistry of Catholic scholasticism and, in part, abstract philosophical speculation. Theophanes contrasts these with “straightforward teaching” aimed at practical benefit. Following this introduction, he formulates 22 rules upon which teaching at the academy should be based—that is, at an educational institution where, alongside a general education, specialized theological instruction necessary for future teachers of theological schools must also be provided. These rules applied not only to higher theological schools, or academies, but also to secondary theological schools, which later came to be called seminaries.

Such schools, in Theophan’s opinion, should be opened gradually. “It is not necessary to have many teachers at first, but for the first year, one or two will suffice, who would teach grammar—that is, to know Latin, or Greek, or both languages correctly” (Rule 1). As the number of classes increases, “a greater number of teachers will be assigned” who possess the appropriate specialized education. The educational institution is headed by a rector and a prefect. The rector’s authority is extensive: “If any of the teachers appears to be in violation of the academy’s statutes and is unyielding to the rector’s instructions, the rector shall report such a person to the Spiritual Collegium, and following an investigation, he shall be dismissed or punished as deemed appropriate” (Rules 2, 3, 11, and 12). Rule 13 states that, to supervise the teachers, “inspectors may be appointed to ensure that everything at the academy is in order.” At the beginning of each class, the teacher must explain to the students what benefits they will derive from their studies, “so that the students may be more eager to learn.” It was very important to give students an idea of the advantages that education could offer each of them. The younger generation of that time sought by any means to avoid studying, and their parents supported them in this. Not only in the early years, but throughout the 18th century, it was not uncommon for students to run away from schools and seminaries.

The curriculum compiled by Theophan was generally modeled after that of the Kyiv Theological Academy from the late 17th to early 18th centuries. Strangely enough, Theophan begins with a plan for the upper class. “In theology proper, it should be ordered that the main dogmas of our faith and the law of God be taught. The theology teacher should read the Holy Scriptures and learn the rules for correctly and truly understanding the meaning and interpretation of the Scriptures; and he should reinforce all dogmas with the testimony of the Scriptures.” In addition, he should make use of the writings of the Church Fathers, “who diligently wrote about the dogmas.” To clarify the dogmas, “the acts and deliberations of the Ecumenical and Local Councils are extremely useful,” Theophan adds. As for the theological writings of “the most recent teachers of other faiths” (which, as is evident, refers to both Protestants and Catholics), “the theological teacher… must not learn from them or rely on their fables, but only accept as guidance the arguments they derive from Scripture and from the ancient teachers” (Rule 7).

The general curriculum includes the following subjects (“classes”): 1) grammar, along with geography and history; 2) arithmetic and geometry; 3) logic and dialectics; 4) rhetoric (“together with or separately from the study of poetry”), 5) physics and “brief metaphysics,” 6) politics (“a brief course by Pufendorf, if it is deemed necessary, and it may be added to dialectics”), and, finally, 7) theology. “The first six,” according to Theophan’s reasoning, “will take one year each, and theology two years.” Thus, the curriculum was designed for eight years—or, more precisely, for eight grades. But if we take into account the teaching methods of that time, it becomes clear that whether the students would be able to complete the curriculum within the allotted eight years depended solely on their diligence and abilities. Theophanes also recommends instruction in Latin and Greek, “if there are teachers.” Libraries must be established in schools for both teachers and students (Rule 8).

Rule 14 is of particular importance, as it makes clear that when developing the project, Peter I and Theophanes had in mind a school open to all social classes. It states: “All archpriests, as well as the wealthier clergy and other clergymen, must send their children to the academy. It is also strongly recommended to instruct the city’s leading officials accordingly; as for the nobility, it shall be at His Imperial Majesty’s discretion.” And further: “The academy’s location should not be in the city, but on the outskirts, in a pleasant (i.e., picturesque. – I. S.) place of one’s choosing, where there is no public commotion or frequent distractions, which usually hinder learning and disrupt diligent study” (Rule 19). Theophan speaks in great detail about the internal organization of the academy (Rule 22 with 26 instructions). If possible, a building modeled after a monastery should be constructed outside the city, which, in addition to classrooms, should also include living quarters for teachers and students. The latter should be housed according to age. Up to 10 students may live in a single room. The beds must be foldable so that they cannot be used for rest during the day. In the 18th century, this regulation was indeed followed in many seminaries—mainly because, due to a lack of space, the dormitories were often used for classroom instruction during the day. Each room must have a special supervisor, or prefect, who is responsible for monitoring the behavior of the seminarians. As a disciplinary measure, he uses canes for the younger students, and for the middle and upper grades—admonitions and threats. Serious offenses must be reported to the rector, who holds “supreme authority” over everyone, but he is permitted to expel disobedient and negligent students only in extreme cases. A seminarian must not leave the school under any circumstances; during the first three years, he may not go anywhere at all—not even home during vacations. In the higher grades, students who demonstrate good behavior and academic success are granted short leaves of absence to visit their families. Students were permitted to receive visits from their families. Undoubtedly, to bolster the school’s reputation, Theophan advises that such visitors be treated to appropriate food and drink. There were age restrictions for admitted students: no younger than 10, but no older than 15, “and older than that only upon the petition of honorable persons attesting that the youth lived in discipline and under good supervision in his parents’ home.”

Apparently, Theophanes realized that his strict educational system required some softening. Therefore, he recommends activities “that are beneficial to health and dispel boredom.” “Set aside two hours each day for the seminarians to go out and play… And the walks should include wholesome and physically active games… which, while entertaining, provide some useful instruction. Such activities include, for example, swimming in regular boats, geometric measurements, the construction of regular fortresses, and so on.” In St. Petersburg, students could be shown the capital’s sights, such as the tsar’s suburban palaces. “At meals, readings will include military and ecclesiastical histories… about men who have excelled in learning, about great church teachers, as well as about ancient and modern philosophers, astronomers, rhetoricians, historians, and so on.” High-achieving students should receive rewards. On major holidays, seminarians are entertained “by the sound of musical instruments; and this is not difficult, for one need only hire a teacher, and the eager seminarians trained by him will then be able to teach others.” The academy should have a church and a hospital.

Every seminarian who has reached full maturity (“who has come of age”) takes an oath of allegiance to the emperor. The rector does not release graduates from the seminary “until he has first reported them to the Spiritual Collegium (i.e., the Holy Synod—I. S.), and the Collegium will present them to His Imperial Majesty.” In the dioceses, seminary graduates are to have priority over those without an education. In conclusion to this section, Theophan notes that his proposal for the organization of “school houses” is preliminary in nature: “And in the future, it will be possible to devise further improvements or to seek information from the best foreign seminaries.”

Throughout the 18th century, well into the 19th century, and even after the school reform of 1808–1814, the “Spiritual Regulations” served as the basis for the views of the Holy Synod and the bishops on the system of spiritual education. This is why the contents of this first document on the establishment of theological schools were set forth in such detail here.

b) Based on the provisions of the “Spiritual Regulations,” the bishops began organizing theological schools in their dioceses. By 1725, the following educational institutions had been opened. Feodosy Yanovsky, who had once assisted Metropolitan Job in establishing schools in Novgorod, founded a seminary at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery in St. Petersburg in 1721. At the same time, Theophan Prokopovich [1348] opened his own seminary in the capital. In that same year, 1721, Bishop Pitirim established a seminary in Nizhny Novgorod. The following year, schools were established in Tver and Belgorod; in 1723—in Kazan, Kolomna, Vyatka, Suzdal, and Kholmogory; in 1724—in Ryazan and Vologda. As early as 1721, a central governing body was established under the Holy Synod—the Office of Schools—headed by Archimandrite Gabriel Buzhinsky, an advisor to the Holy Synod. Upon the Synod’s recommendation, Peter I decreed on November 19, 1721, that the children of clergymen should study in diocesan schools rather than in arithmetic schools. This decree, issued as a directive of the Holy Synod, marked the first step toward transforming clerical schools into educational institutions intended exclusively for children of the clergy. On May 31, 1722, the Holy Synod issued a special charter for diocesan schools as a supplement to the “Clerical Regulations.” It recommended that, due to a shortage of suitable teachers, clergymen preparing for ordination be used to teach the children, using the recently published primer for elementary schools. The author of this primer was Theophan Prokopovich himself. The shortage of teachers, as will be discussed later, continued to be a problem.

This was followed by decrees prohibiting the conscription of students from diocesan schools into military service and ordering that young monks and novices be sent to the schools. The latter measure was not particularly successful, since the monasteries evaded compliance under all sorts of pretexts, and the novices sent to the schools mostly ran away, returning to their monasteries. Moreover, the obligation imposed on monasteries to contribute one-twentieth of their harvest to the schools’ needs was fulfilled so irregularly that the Holy Synod was forced to issue decrees reminding them of this requirement. Clergy who failed to comply with the decree to send their sons to school faced punishment. But when dioceses began conducting checks on the sons of clergy who had reached school age, it became clear that parents were doing everything in their power to evade this requirement. The situation was worst of all with regard to funding for the schools. Success or failure in this regard depended entirely on the energy of the diocesan bishops [1349] . Bishops of Little Russian origin were the most concerned about the schools.

After the death of Peter I, conditions in the schools deteriorated even further [1350] . In a 1727 report from the Holy Synod to the Supreme Secret Council, their state was described in very bleak terms. Between 1721 and 1727, a total of 118 students attended the seminary at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery in St. Petersburg, 42 of whom dropped out due to poor academic performance and a lack of desire to study. At the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy in Moscow, 362 students were enrolled, and at the Russian elementary school in Moscow, 108. The diocesan schools in Novgorod, which Metropolitan Job cared for so deeply, had a very significant number of students—1,007—between 1706 and 1726. In 1727, there were 14 schools in that diocese where reading and writing were taught. In both schools in Rostov, where “Slavic studies” and singing were taught, there were 200 students in 1727. Here, teachers and students were starving because of a poor harvest, and the remaining grain had to be sent to Moscow, to the Chamber Office, and to the general staff. In the Krutitsy Diocese, there were no schools at all due to the absence of monasteries—in other words, because there was no source of grain contributions. From there, young people were sent to study in Novgorod and Moscow. The diocesan school in Kazan submitted a very detailed report. Among other things, it was reported that of the 52 students enrolled there in 1726, 14 were “on the run.” In that same year, 1726, Archbishop Silvestr of Kholm managed to recruit another 70 students for the Kazan Seminary and construct a stone building for it. In Nizhny Novgorod, there were three schools: a Hellenic-Greek school, a Slavic-Russian school, and an elementary “primer” school—with a total of 295 students. The school in Ryazan, founded in 1722, existed only on paper, as no suitable teachers could be found; consequently, the three students who were enrolled there were sent to Novgorod. The Ryazan school was not opened until 1726 by Bishop Gabriel Buzhinsky; at that time, it had 269 students. The situation was significantly better in the Ukrainian dioceses. Between 1700 and 1726, 654 students attended the Kyiv Academy, and 257 attended the Chernihiv school. The eight schools in the Belgorod Diocese had 420 students. In the remaining schools, the situation was considerably less favorable. Overall, according to a report by the Holy Synod, there were 45 schools across 21 dioceses [1351] .

During the reign of Empress Anna Ioannovna, special attention was given to theological schools. In 1730, a decree was issued instructing the Holy Synod to establish schools in accordance with the “Spiritual Regulations.” Another decree from 1731 called for the opening of schools in all diocesan centers and other cities. It was then that these educational institutions came to be known as seminaries. In 1738, the Empress ordered the Synod to draw up a budget for theological schools (i.e., for elementary schools, not for seminaries) modeled after the budgets for schools for the children of garrison soldiers. However, the draft budget submitted by the Holy Synod was not approved. In 1740, the Holy Synod received a decree from the Empress ordering an increase in the number of educational institutions and schools, their adequate funding, and the provision of good and capable teachers, as prescribed by the “Spiritual Regulations” and the decrees of the Russian emperors. At the same time, decrees were issued requiring the clergy to send their sons to seminaries and schools [1352] . In 1737, an order was issued to adhere to the “Spiritual Regulations” in the curricula of seminaries. Under Anna Ioannovna, a requirement was also introduced that instruction be conducted not only in Latin but also in Russian. However, at the Kharkiv Collegium as early as the 1730s, the teaching of certain disciplines was already organized according to this principle [1353] . By early 1740, there were 17 seminaries, 2 academies (in Kyiv and Moscow), and a large number of elementary theological schools. However, their financial situation remained dire, and the diocesan bishops were in no hurry to open new elementary schools.

Under Empress Elizabeth, the number of seminaries increased. By the end of her reign (1760), there were 26 seminaries and 20 elementary schools [1354] . In the Kiev Diocese, there were also parish schools, where the teachers were deacons (psalm readers); they taught reading and writing, as well as basic knowledge of the duties of a psalm reader. “The rural parish school was the primary place of education for all literate people of the 18th century and for the entire clergy, and for the vast majority it remained the only educational institution for a long time”[1355] .

In 1762, Empress Catherine II, in her instructions to the Commission on Church Estates, sharply criticized the theological schools. Among other things, it stated: “…we command the commission, regarding this as the chief work of God and the primary means of cultivating spiritual fruits, to give the most diligent consideration to how to establish schools in every diocese at the bishop’s residence, as prescribed in the ‘Spiritual Regulations’”[1356] ; It was further ordered to draft a general statute on this matter and submit it to the Empress for her signature. A commission, consisting of Bishop Gabriel Petrov of Tver, Bishop Innokenty Nechaev of Pskov, and Hieromonk Platon Levshin, undertook the drafting of the “university laws,” that is, the reform proposal for theological schools. Like many other projects drafted during the reign of Catherine II, this one was conceived on a very broad scale. The Moscow Academy was to be transformed into a theological university with a curriculum of the highest level, while the Kiev Academy was to remain in its previous form. Seminaries were to be divided into two categories: higher seminaries—in St. Petersburg, Novgorod, Kazan, and Yaroslavl—and lower seminaries, which would include all the rest, with the latter intended exclusively for the education of future priests. These distinctions in seminary categories were reflected in different curricula. The curriculum of the lower seminaries generally followed the principles that Theophan Prokopovich had established in his *Spiritual Regulations* for “educational institutions.” In the higher seminaries, additional subjects were taught, such as modern foreign languages, geometry, metaphysics (logic was part of the lower seminary curriculum), and theoretical physics. Apologetics (controversial theology) and exegesis were included in the curriculum as entirely new subjects. In addition, each diocese was to establish 3–4 gymnasiums. These were to be affiliated with monasteries, preparing the children of the clergy for admission to lower seminaries and the children of other social classes for public service. The subjects taught there were: reading, writing, singing, the basics of arithmetic, as well as Latin and Greek grammar. To raise the level of education and improve the financial situation of teachers and students, permanent teaching staff were planned for all schools. Finally, it was proposed that elementary schools for teaching reading and writing be established within the deaneries, funded by church parishes. This marked the first formulation of the idea of parish schools, which the government would implement much later, in the 19th century, under entirely different circumstances.

Another project during those same years was proposed by Kirill Razumovsky, Hetman of Little Russia, who suggested founding a university in Kyiv with four faculties; the academy was to become part of it as the faculty of theology. However, since Razumovsky linked this plan to a proposal to make the office of hetman hereditary within his family, his project was rejected. It is possible that it was precisely these ideas of Razumovsky that prompted Catherine II to instruct Count Rumyantsev, president of the Little Russian Collegium (established in place of the hetmanate), to pay special attention to the Kyiv Theological Academy, for “students of theology who are preparing in Little Russian educational institutions to take up clerical positions are infected, by following the harmful tenets of Roman Catholicism, with the principles of insatiable ambition.” Two years later, in 1766, the nobility of Little Russia emphasized in a directive to their deputies on the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws the need to open a university in Kyiv in place of the “Latin school” (i.e., the Kyiv Academy). The directive from the Little Russian Collegium states: “The academy in Kyiv, and the gymnasiums in Chernihiv and Pereyaslav… are by no means founded on the principles that Her Imperial Majesty deems fit to impart for the betterment of the people”[1357] .

None of these proposals was approved by the Empress, but the number of seminaries increased: they were opened in Kaluga (1775), Poltava (1779), Astrakhan and Pereyaslavl (1785), Slutsk (1789), and Minsk (1793). The dilapidated diocesan school in Astrakhan was renovated. In 1765, Catherine ordered that the 16 best students be sent abroad (6 to Oxford, 5 each to Leiden and Göttingen) to study theology and prepare to teach at theological academies. However, upon their return, most of them were assigned to secular educational institutions.

The idea of dividing seminaries into higher and lower institutions was, in a sense, implemented by Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of St. Petersburg. Thanks to his efforts, the Alexander Nevsky Seminary was renamed the St. Petersburg Main Seminary. The best students from diocesan schools were to be sent there to prepare for teaching at seminaries and theological schools [1358] .

Under Emperor Paul I, who paid more attention to theological education than Catherine II had, the St. Petersburg Main Seminary and the seminary in Kazan were transformed into theological academies in 1797. Eight new seminaries were opened: in Kamianets-Podilskyi and the Vifan Seminary at the Trinity-Sergius Lavra in 1797; in Ostroh in Volhynia and Kaluga in 1799; in Perm, Penza, and Orenburg in 1800; and, finally, a military seminary for training regimental chaplains. On October 31, 1798, the objectives of the seminaries were defined more precisely: “To provide the Church with good preachers of the Word of God who, without extensive preparation, could teach the people clearly, properly, persuasively, and pleasantly.” Diocesan bishops were required to report regularly to the Holy Synod on the state of teaching and the academic qualifications of the teachers. In the final year of Paul I’s reign, the Holy Synod issued a decree on the opening of “Russian elementary schools” in the dioceses to train psalm readers. These schools became the prototype for the theological schools established during the reforms of 1808–1814.[1359]

Thus, by the end of the 18th century, Russia had four theological academies—in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Kyiv, and Kazan—46 seminaries, and, in addition, elementary schools in the dioceses. The number of schools of the latter type increased after Alexander I, in connection with the publication of charters for secular educational institutions, issued a special decree calling on the clergy to participate in the cause of public education (1805–1806). Parish priests began opening schools, often in their own homes, without any financial support from the diocesan authorities [1360] .

c) The raising and proper allocation of funds for the ever-increasing number of theological educational institutions depended on the personal attitude of the diocesan bishops toward them and on their understanding of the benefits of these schools. This factor became decisive after, in accordance with the “Spiritual Regulations,” the establishment and supervision of schools were entrusted to the diocesan bishops and their administrations. If, by the beginning of the 18th century, such an understanding of the necessity and benefits of schools had been sufficiently widespread among the church hierarchy, then Peter I and Theophan Prokopovich would likely not have needed to include at length in the “Spiritual Regulations” discussions on the benefits of education in general and for the clergy in particular. As a legislative act laying the foundations for church administration, the “Regulations” were conceived primarily as instructions for diocesan bishops. It was evident from the 1727 report cited above that the organization of ecclesiastical educational institutions proceeded very slowly in the first years following the publication of the “Spiritual Regulations.” The most energetic were the bishops of Little Russian origin, especially the graduates of the Kyiv Collegium, which had been transformed into an academy in 1701. Being better educated than their Great Russian counterparts, they had a much clearer understanding of the need for the education of the clergy. A significant portion of the country’s teaching staff also emerged from the walls of the Kyiv Academy; its graduates could be found serving as teachers in the most remote regions of the empire [1361] . Among the bishops, the following deserve special mention: Epiphany Tikhorsky of Belgorod and Kharkiv, Innocent Kulchitsky of Irkutsk, Pskov’s (later Metropolitan of Kyiv) Raphael Zaborovsky of Pskov, Hilarion Rogalevsky of Kazan, and Theophylact Lopatinsky of Tver. In the second half of the 18th century, special mention should be made of Arsenius of Mohyla in Kyiv and Samuel of Mislav in Kharkiv, and later in Kyiv; among the Great Russian bishops—first and foremost, Metropolitan Platon of Moscow, Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov of Novgorod and St. Petersburg, as well as Bishop Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev of Nizhny Novgorod [1362] . All of them had to overcome great difficulties at every turn in securing the necessary financial resources.

As already mentioned, to support the theological schools, the “Spiritual Regulations” provided for the allocation of a certain portion of the harvest from episcopal, monastic, and church estates. These revenues were received extremely irregularly, which was partly due to the inertia or even resistance of their owners. The situation was further complicated by constant changes in the administrative bodies overseeing church estates, which ceased only under Catherine II following secularization (see § 10). Financial difficulties were often so great that some diocesan bishops, especially in the early years following the death of Peter I, were unable—despite their best intentions—to open a school in their bishop’s residence. After all, the issue was not merely a matter of providing salaries for teachers—according to the “Spiritual Regulations,” school funds were also required to support the students and provide them with educational materials. Initially, the “Spiritual Regulations” provided for compulsory education only for the sons of archpriests and the wealthiest priests, but a series of subsequent decrees extended this requirement to the sons of the clergy as a whole. As a result, the schools also began to be attended by the children of impoverished clergymen and psalm-readers, who had to be supported by school funds. Consequently, two categories of students emerged: those supported by the state and those who paid their own way. The situation for both was bleak. P. Znamensky emphasizes that it did not improve throughout the 18th century, at least in the theological seminaries [1363] .

The theological academies, regarded as institutions of higher learning, were in a less precarious situation. Both the Church and the secular authorities took an interest in them, with the latter providing—albeit irregularly—subsidies for the maintenance of the teaching staff and students. Peter I himself set a precedent in this regard by allocating funds from the treasury of the Monastic Office to the Moscow Theological Academy in 1718 [1364] . Securing funds for the repair of the Moscow Academy’s buildings remained an intractable problem throughout the 18th century, which severely hampered academic activities. The academy had to make do with occasional repairs to its dilapidated, half-ruined buildings, and individual classes were sometimes forced to be housed in various monasteries. It was not until 1814 that the academy was finally moved to the building of the Trinity Seminary, which belonged to the Holy Trinity St. Sergius Lavra [1365] .

The Kyiv-Mohyla College, which Peter I elevated to the rank of a theological academy in 1701, was housed in the Kyiv-Bratsky Monastery. The student dormitory—the “bursa”—built by Hetman Mazepa had fallen into disrepair by the mid-18th century, but a new one was not constructed until after 1764. The academy was primarily funded by the Bratsky Monastery, but its income was insufficient, so the metropolitans were forced to allocate additional funds from the diocesan treasury. For this purpose, monetary fines levied on the clergy were used in particular. The transition to a permanent staff, implemented in 1764, did not initially extend to the Ukrainian dioceses. There, this transition took place only in 1786 and brought about a significant improvement in the financial situation of the academy, which until then had received very irregular and relatively small subsidies from the state treasury [1366] .

In the first half of the 18th century, funding for diocesan (episcopal) schools—later seminaries—was also insufficient and unstable, since neither grain contributions nor additional funds from parishes nor monetary fines were received in the necessary amounts [1367] . Despite the aforementioned decrees of Empress Anna Ioannovna from 1740, no funds were received from the government. The school staffing plans developed by the Holy Synod were not approved. In 1740, only the seminary in Novgorod was placed on a regular budget, and as a result, its financial situation was relatively favorable. In general, however, teachers lived in poverty, and students went hungry. Extremely meager rations were the main reason why, in almost all seminaries, a significant portion of the students were listed as “on the run.” For example, at the Pskov Seminary between 1776 and 1798, the daily ration for “rhetors”—that is, upperclassmen—was 4 pounds, while that for underclassmen was only 3 pounds of rye bread. The students ground the grain for the bakery themselves. For good academic performance, students were entitled to one pound of meat three to four times a year, which they received on major holidays along with the customary borscht. It was not until the second half of the century that daily hot meals became the norm [1368] . In Ukraine, it was customary for students at academies and seminaries to go around the neighborhood collecting alms while singing psalms and hymns. At the Kyiv Academy, children of well-to-do parents—both clergy and laypersons—lived in private apartments, while the sons of poor clergymen were forced to huddle in a damp and dirty dormitory. Apart from this lodging, they were provided with nothing; their food and clothing depended entirely on their own resourcefulness. They were allowed to sing and beg for alms beneath the windows of Kyiv’s townspeople, and during school breaks they were sent out on “conditions”—that is, to serve as private tutors in the homes of landowners or wealthy Kyiv residents; some took on farm work or went from village to village, singing psalms to collect alms. In this way, they earned the money they needed to study during the winter. It was not until 1766 that half of the sum received from the College of Economy—amounting to 500 rubles—began to be spent on the upkeep of the students living in the dormitory [1369] .

In his autobiography, the renowned Archimandrite Photios Spassky recalls his years of study at the Novgorod Seminary, which, as already mentioned, was one of the best-endowed institutions prior to the reform of 1809: “At the seminary, I was weighed down by extreme poverty: I often walked without shoes in bitter cold, and I was given the most meager cell with poor classmates, but I was glad that this cell was secluded, quiet, and conducive to my studies. The food at meals was the coarsest, most meager, and insufficient, so that often even the best of the students left the table hungry; one might say he was never sated by it; such moderation and scarcity in food were very beneficial to me: when I returned to my cell, I was never weighed down”[1370] . In the theological educational institutions of both capitals, the situation regarding food and clothing was somewhat better. The Moscow Academy and the Trinity Seminary enjoyed the special care of Metropolitan Platon Levshin and were therefore in a comparatively favorable position [1371] .

Teachers’ salaries were very low. The rector and faculty of the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy in Moscow received an annual stipend of 100 rubles from the Monastic Office at the insistence of Stefan Yavorsky. Students in the theology and philosophy classes had to make do with 8 deni (4 kopecks) a day, while those in the lower classes received only 6 deni (i.e., 3 kopecks) a day. Peter I, in gratitude for the hymns of praise in honor of the victory at Poltava presented to him by Rector Theophylact Lopatinsky, raised the rector’s salary to 300 rubles and that of the teachers to 150 rubles per year. In 1720, the academy received 3,300 rubles to pay teachers’ salaries and cover students’ living expenses. After the administration of church estates—and thus the academy’s funding—was transferred to the Chamber Office, teachers’ salaries were increased in 1724. It was paid three times a year, but this was done irregularly, and food and firewood were often provided in lieu of money. Students in the lower grades also received a so-called “salary,” but in the form of bread. Teachers who were monks lived at the Zaikonospassky Monastery. The meager furnishings of their cells consisted of a wooden bench that served as a bed, a felt blanket, a table, and a chair [1372] . At the Kyiv Academy, the situation regarding salaries was much worse. Most of the teachers were monks who were paid primarily in kind: housing, food, firewood, and candles. Teachers who lived outside the academy’s walls received food and firewood. Cash payments were made only occasionally, at Christmas or Easter, and even then no more than a few rubles. Hence the teachers’ constant pleas for payment of their salaries [1373] .

The salaries of teachers at diocesan seminaries were also extremely meager. They were mainly paid in kind from the bishop’s estate: along with housing, the teachers received firewood and bread. Small sums of money were also given to them very rarely, and only after repeated petitions and complaints about poverty. In 1740, the Board of Finance established a fixed annual budget for three seminaries: the Novgorod Seminary began receiving 7,895 rubles per year, the Alexander Nevsky Seminary in St. Petersburg—1,917 rubles, and the Kazan Seminary—3,000 rubles.[1374] The remaining seminaries did not have a fixed budget. These meager stipends often led to both students and teachers fleeing the seminaries. A shortage of teachers was felt throughout the 18th century, although the seminaries did not need a large number of them—only enough to cover the number of classes, since in each class, a single teacher taught all subjects. Academies also needed teachers. For example, in 1736, the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy had only 7 teachers for 9 classes. In the first grade, there was one teacher for every 374 students. In the first half of the 18th century, the number of students at the Moscow Theological Academy fluctuated greatly: in 1717—290, in 1725—629, in 1736—383, in 1737 — 429, in 1738—460, in 1744—280, in 1750—200, and in 1761—215. At the Kyiv Academy, the number of students was significantly higher: in 1715—1,100; in 1742—1,234; in 1744—1,160; in 1763 — 897, in 1765—1,059, in 1768—1,079 [1375] . By early 1764, the 26 seminaries had a total of 6,000 students [1376] .

In the 18th century, none of the theological schools (including both academies and seminaries) were restricted to a particular social class; this included even the oldest, the Kyiv Academy, where, alongside the sons of clergymen, the children of the service nobility, townspeople, and even peasants were educated. Among the graduates of the Kyiv Collegium—and later the Academy—who came from non-clerical social classes were such prominent figures of the Russian Church as the nobleman Stefan Yavorsky and Theophan Prokopovich, the son of a merchant. The Kyiv Academy retained its cross-class character throughout the 18th century. In 1790, for example, it enrolled 232 students from non-clerical classes alongside 419 students of the clergy. It was only at the end of the century that Metropolitan Samuel Mislavsky (1783–1796), according to his biographer, resolved to transform the Kyiv Academy ( ) into a purely clerical—or class-based—educational and disciplinary institution [1377] . At the Kharkiv Collegium, more than half of the students were the sons of landowning nobles, and it was precisely thanks to the financial support of the latter that the collegium flourished [1378] . In the first half of the 18th century, the doors of the Moscow Academy were open to children of all social classes. Beginning in 1721, the Holy Synod also admitted foreigners to the Moscow Academy, provided, however, that they took an oath to enter into lifelong service to the Russian crown. In 1726, the Synod even permitted a newly converted Tatar to be admitted to the academy. In 1737, during the reign of Anna Ioannovna, the government sent about 100 young nobles to study at the academy. However, the academy’s administration did not always agree with such measures. For example, in 1725, the academy’s rector, Gedeon Vishnevsky, refused to admit several young men sent to him, citing the fact that “only the children of clergymen who might enter the clergy are educated at that school.” This trend became predominant under Metropolitan Platon Levshin (1775–1812). The Moscow Academy now took on the character of a closed theological institution: from then on, it admitted only the sons of priests and church ministers (i.e., psalm readers, etc.)[1379] . Other seminaries also occasionally admitted children from various social classes, particularly the Alexander Nevsky Seminary in St. Petersburg. This was of great significance for Russia’s cultural development in the first half of the 18th century.[1380]

d) The meager funding of theological schools, which adversely affected the educational process, eventually became a matter of concern for church authorities. At a joint conference of the Holy Synod and the Senate in 1762, Metropolitan Dimitri Sechenov of Novgorod emphasized the need to place theological seminaries on a permanent budgetary footing and to precisely define the sources of funding for their proper maintenance. The issue was finally resolved after church estates were secularized in 1764 and the income from them was transferred to the management of the Board of Finance. Empress Catherine II herself initiated the discussion of this issue in 1762 by issuing a corresponding directive to the ecclesiastical commission. The commission ruled that theological schools should be supported by funds from the Board of Economy, proposing to allocate 23,000 rubles for this purpose. The Empress increased this amount to 25,000 rubles and approved the commission’s proposal. These funds were intended for theological schools in Great Russia, whereas in Little Russia, where secularization had not yet been implemented, the situation remained unchanged.

The staffing levels of individual seminaries were determined based on local conditions, as well as the number of students and teachers. The Novgorod Seminary received the largest allocation (over 5,500 rubles), while the seminaries in Tobolsk and Vyatka received the least (326 rubles 77.5 kopecks each); The Moscow Academy was allocated 3,000 rubles. These sums were intended for the remaining nine months of the current year, 1765. When the annual budget was subsequently determined, it became clear that the Board of Finance was to pay a total of 40,000 rubles, of which 9,000 rubles were allocated to the Moscow Academy alone. In 1784, the budgets were increased and totaled 77,500 rubles, i.e., an average of 2,000 rubles per seminary [1381] . Following the secularization of 1786, funding allocations were also established for the Little Russian schools: the Kiev Academy initially received 8,400 rubles, and then, starting in 1787, at the request of Metropolitan Samuel, 9,000 rubles; the seminaries also transitioned to a fixed budget [1382] .

Under Paul I, the total budget was increased to 142,000 rubles in 1797 and to 181,931 rubles per year in 1800. This took into account that two seminaries (the Alexander Nevsky Seminary in St. Petersburg and the Kazan Seminary) had been transformed into academies, and that new seminaries had been opened. Now, the annual budget for an academy averaged 12,000 rubles ( ), while that for a seminary was 3,000 rubles ([1383] ). Under Alexander I, there was a further increase in staffing levels, but it was only the reform of 1808–1814 that brought about the complete abolition of the old staffing structures and a final resolution of the funding issue.

The statutes of 1764 failed to improve the financial situation of the schools: first, the allocated funds were completely insufficient; second, the incomes of diocesan bishops had decreased significantly following the secularization of church lands [1384] . The abolition of the school tax, which had been levied on the clergy in almost all dioceses, created additional difficulties. All of this forced the bishops to seek new sources of funding. In many dioceses, monetary fines imposed on the clergy began to be used to meet the schools’ needs, as the Metropolitan of Kyiv, Arsenius of Mohyla, had done even before 1764. “The bishops,” writes P. Znamensky, “did not without reason strive everywhere to showcase their seminaries, organizing solemn ceremonies, debates, and public examinations there, and involving seminarians in various provincial celebrations and the like; in this way, they unwittingly aroused public interest in the seminaries’ well-being and attracted the generosity of donors”[1385] .

The name of Moscow Metropolitan Platon Levshin is associated with the establishment of a special fund from which scholarships were paid to academy students under special conditions. In 1789, Metropolitan Platon transferred 4,000 rubles to the board of trustees, instructing that the annual interest on this sum, amounting to 200 rubles, be used to fund scholarships for five students. At the same time, he drafted a charter for students supported by funds from Metropolitan Platon of Moscow. According to § 4 of the Charter, every student of the Moscow Academy who intends to receive a scholarship must sign a pledge stating that he will not choose any career other than the clerical one. This question must be posed to scholarship recipients each year to determine whether they have changed their intentions. If their intentions have changed, payment of the scholarship is immediately discontinued. The conditions for awarding a scholarship, as stated in § 5, were the poverty of the parents, as well as academic success, exemplary conduct, good aptitude, and diligence. The Plato Fund existed until 1860. Thanks to its funding, 38 “Platonists” received an education: 13 before 1814 (at the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy) and 25 afterward (at the Moscow Theological Academy). Another Plato Fund was established for the Trinity Seminary. Only a few seminary graduates who had been recipients of this fund took monastic vows; most became teachers at theological schools or priests [1386] .

Starting in the second half of the 18th century, parish scholarship recipients began appearing in many seminaries. Vacancies in many parishes and constant requests from them to send a priest gave diocesan bishops grounds to impose on such parishes the obligation to support a scholarship recipient, whom they would receive as a priest upon completion of his studies. In the last quarter of the 18th century, the number of such scholarship students was large: at the Voronezh Seminary, for example, there were 29; at the Oryol Seminary, 200 (in 1790); and at the Smolensk Seminary, 120. At the Smolensk Seminary in 1802, there were 236 parish-funded scholarship students for every 45 state-funded students, a situation attributed to insufficient state subsidies. Most diocesan bishops were simply forced to admit a significant number of students—either at their own expense or at the expense of the parishes—in order to reduce the number of state-funded students. Often, bishops closely scrutinized the financial affairs of the educational institutions under their jurisdiction, striving to cut costs and save every kopeck. A particular reason for these cost-cutting measures and the aforementioned effort to reduce the number of state-funded students—while maximizing the enrollment of parish scholarship recipients—was the need to construct buildings for the seminaries. By the end of the 18th century, many seminaries were indeed already housed in spacious buildings of their own—not wooden, but stone. Compared to the first half of the century, the living conditions of the students had also gradually improved. Nevertheless, P. Znamensky, an authoritative expert on the history of academies and seminaries prior to the 1808 school reform, emphasizes, “Despite all… the efforts of the bishops and all the supplementary funds they could draw from diocesan sources to supplement staff salaries, the theological schools still lived in poverty.” Moreover, the renowned Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov, who was then still rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, said in a solemn speech in 1814, recalling the days of his youth, that “young clergy” had to prepare for service to the Church through patience and tireless effort rather than through an abundance of financial support”[1387] .

The 1764 salary scales, as well as subsequent increases, did not lead to an improvement in the financial situation of the faculty, which was particularly dire in the seminaries. P. Znamensky even expresses the opinion that the transition to a salaried system only worsened their situation. Payment in kind—firewood and food—was no longer provided, and monetary salaries, despite their increases, failed to keep pace with the rising prices that hit the cities in the second half of the 18th century. Teachers, most of whom were married and lived in private apartments, received from the seminaries, at best, only firewood as additional compensation. Teachers from the scholarly monastic order also faced hardship. At the Vladimir Seminary, the following incident occurred: Hieromonk Moses, as a result of his destitute life, fell ill with a “melancholic disease” and reported to the diocesan bishop that, due to “confusion of thoughts,” he could no longer perform his duties. Despite salary increases in 1784 and 1797, the teachers’ financial situation remained so unattractive that the shortage of teachers continued to grow. As a result of the local government reform under Catherine II, many seminary students found themselves in government service, where salaries were higher and where officials could receive additional income from the compliant population [1388] . This trend was exacerbated by the fact that the government encouraged students from seminaries and academies to enroll in secular educational institutions. Thus, under Catherine II, the Medical-Surgical Academy was repeatedly replenished with students from theological academies. In 1798, bishops were stripped of the right (which they had held since 1779) to release seminarians into secular service at their own discretion—this authority now rested with the Holy Synod; as a result, such transfers initially ceased almost entirely, with exceptions made only for the Medical-Surgical Academy. In 1803 and 1804, decrees from the Holy Synod addressed to diocesan bishops were issued, according to which only those seminarians who, due to poor health, were unfit for the priesthood were permitted to be released. A decree issued at the same time prohibited secular institutions from hiring clergy without release certificates issued by the Holy Synod. The purpose of these decrees was to isolate the clergy into a closed estate [1389] . At the same time, the government required the Holy Synod to ensure that graduates of the academies were assigned to teaching positions in the Ministry of Public Education. The Committee of 1808, which will be discussed later, reported to Emperor Alexander I: “The Teachers’ Seminary for Public Schools and all former medical schools were filled—and continue to be filled—for the most part by graduates of theological seminaries; furthermore, a considerable number of them, upon the establishment of the provinces and on other occasions, entered various branches of the civil service”[1390] . As P. Znamensky noted, the development of the Church was hindered by the fact that it was precisely the best and brightest of the younger generation who systematically entered the civil service [1391] .

Indeed, among the statesmen who played a significant role in Russia’s political and cultural history, there are a number of graduates of theological educational institutions, where the foundation for their future fruitful work was laid. Let us mention here just a few prominent names. Graduates of the Kiev Academy included: A. Bezborodko, chancellor and minister of foreign affairs under Catherine II, one of the most gifted Russian diplomats; the renowned historian N. N. Bantysh-Kamensky, who, unfortunately, has not yet been fully appreciated; D. P. Troshchinsky, minister of justice under Alexander I; D. Vellansky, who was sent to the Medical-Surgical Academy and played a significant role in the liberal-philosophical movement during the reign of Alexander I; and, finally, Count P. V. Zavadovsky, author of the 1775 Provincial Charter, who became chairman of the State Council in 1811. The renowned M. M. Speransky and the first historian of Siberia, P. A. Slovtsov, graduated from the Alexander Nevsky Seminary. The well-known Schellingian Professor M. G. Pavlov was a graduate of the Voronezh Seminary [1392] .

e) A significant phenomenon in the history of spiritual education in the 18th century was the scholarly monasticism, although it did not reach its full development until the following century. As one Russian theologian correctly observed, the scholarly monastic order constituted “a privileged segment of the clergy”[1393] and first appeared at the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy (see § 12). Scholarly monks typically held the positions of rectors or prefects (inspectors), since there were too few of them to also serve as ordinary teachers. In 1767, Archbishop Cyril Leshchevitsky of Chernihiv wrote to the Holy Synod in a memorandum intended for the Commission on the Drafting of a New Code of Laws: “Nowadays, there is such a great scarcity of sufficiently learned monks that it is barely possible to select a rector or prefect, while almost all the others are laypeople”[1394] . Under Catherine II, learned monks were granted new privileges: the right to dispose of their private property by will and the right to receive stipends from monasteries—of which the rectors of academies and seminaries were nominally the abbots—in addition to their teaching salaries. In 1799, a decree was issued assigning hieromonks serving as teachers to cathedral chapters as cathedral hieromonks, with a specified portion of the income from voluntary donations allocated to them [1395] .

Thus, the leading administrative and pedagogical functions in the field of theological education were in the hands of learned monks, who, however, in most cases were not destined to remain in these roles for any length of time, for after several years as rectors they usually became bishops. Their primary concern now shifted to the affairs of the ecclesiastical consistories, and only a few remained true to their pedagogical past, continuing to take the fate of the theological schools in their diocese to heart.

Work at the school was, in essence, the only monastic duty entrusted to learned monks. If, in accordance with their direct duty, they had devoted their entire lives to the cause of theological education rather than prioritizing advancement up the hierarchical ladder, the institution of the learned monastic order would have been entirely justified and beneficial to the Church.

e) In general, the pedagogical principles set forth in the section “School Dormitories” of the “Spiritual Regulations” remained in effect throughout the 18th century. It was only toward the end of the century that new pedagogical methods, which had emerged during the Catherine era, began to make themselves felt in the work of Metropolitan Platon Levshin of Moscow. In keeping with the spirit of the times and in accordance with the “Spiritual Regulations,” as well as due to the meager living conditions of the students at theological schools, the educational system there was extremely harsh. Although, as already mentioned, the “Spiritual Regulations” did provide for measures to alleviate the homesickness of students who had been separated from their parents’ homes for many years, those same “Regulations” prescribed caning and threats as disciplinary measures. In the files of the Investigative Office— , the secret service that permeated every sphere of society during the reign of Anna Ioannovna— —there are also reports on theological schools, particularly the Moscow Academy, which show that students were punished for serious offenses with caning, and sometimes even with blows from a stick on the back, or by being chained and forced to work in one of the monasteries [1396] . Teachers were required to maintain personal files on students, recording information about their moral character, diligence, and abilities; this system persisted in theological educational institutions until 1917.[1397] Expulsion from the school was considered the most severe punishment, but given the prevalence of runaways, it was hardly perceived as such.

The “Spiritual Regulations” recommended building school facilities outside the city, but the bishops were able to begin implementing this only after the establishment of dioceses in the second half of the 18th century. Until then, seminaries were usually housed in the bishops’ residences in the city center, where “great noise and shouting” caused “disturbance and disruption” during classes, as the Bishop of Chernihiv complained as early as 1767. For self-supporting students living in private apartments, military encampments were a major nuisance [1398] . Since the students were, in fact, under the school’s supervision only during class hours (recall the students of the Kyiv Academy, who wandered about during vacations in search of alms), there could be no question of any education in the sense of a well-thought-out pedagogical system. Students were raised based on the general ideas and concepts of the time, but above all, they were shaped by the specific traditions of domestic life in clergy families, which became increasingly entrenched as the clergy became more isolated from the rest of society. However, the lack of moral guidance from teachers at the theological school of that time was hardly perceived as a shortcoming. There is only one single piece of evidence to the contrary—and it comes from Metropolitan Platon. In his autobiography, he wrote, “that teaching, in order to be genuine, depends not so much on wit and eloquence as on the purity and integrity of the teacher’s heart”[1399] . Later, in his instructions to teachers, he demanded that they show attentiveness and love toward their students, so that “the teachers might frequently engage in serious and amusing conversations among themselves in the presence of the students, especially during times of communal festivities, from which the latter might learn better social conduct and proper self-confidence.” ““Ensure,” he writes elsewhere, “that students are brought to order through moral rather than physical punishments”[1400] . Metropolitan Plato’s views, which grew out of the spirit of the Enlightenment, greatly contributed to the internal and external development of the theological schools in his diocese, especially the Moscow Academy. According to a later historian, “the era of Plato” signified for these educational institutions the spiritual revitalization of the entire system of education and upbringing. “He was the Moscow Academy’s very own Peter (Mogila).” Nothing was undertaken there without Plato’s consent. He entered its life with warm, heartfelt involvement, monitored the teaching with unwavering attention, encouraged both instructors and students, and determined their studies down to the smallest details… Some of the academy’s students attended lectures at the university at his behest”[1401] .

Before Plato’s time, scholasticism reigned supreme in academies and seminaries. Students were expected to complete eight grades. The number of years—sometimes quite a few—it took to complete the entire curriculum depended on the student’s abilities. Not everyone was as gifted as Bishop Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev, one of the renowned hierarchs of the 18th century, who graduated from the academy in seven years [1402] . The standard duration for the highest, theological, class was four years; for the philosophy and rhetoric classes, two years each; and for the poetic and syntactic classes (“syntactics”), one year each. The time required to complete the lower classes (“infima” and “fara”), usually called “informatoria” in seminaries, and the grammar class, was determined solely by quickness of mind and diligence—“wit,” to use the expression of Theophan Prokopovich from his *Spiritual Regulations*. Many students got stuck as early as the grammar class and, as a result, were sent to parishes as psalm readers. Completing the rhetoric class was considered a great achievement at the time; for many, it was sufficient to receive the priesthood. In the first half of the 18th century, seminaries were not yet considered a preliminary step toward the academy, and many students entered the academy’s introductory class directly. It was only in the second half of the century that the seminaries’ curricula were sufficiently refined to allow talented students from the rhetoric and philosophy classes to be sent to the academy. Some seminaries already had all the necessary classes at that time—for example, the Irkutsk and Kazan seminaries—but foremost among them were the Kharkiv College and the Alexander Nevsky Seminary. The latter was, as mentioned, transformed in 1788 into the Main Seminary with an expanded curriculum, which included general church history, mechanics, natural history, and experimental physics. The most gifted students from other seminaries were sent there so that, upon completing the course, they themselves could become seminary instructors. One of the graduates of this Main Seminary, for example, was I. I. Martynov, who became well-known during the reign of Alexander I for his work in the Ministry of Public Education and as a professor at the Main Pedagogical Institute. His classmates included M. M. Speransky, who had been sent there from the Vladimir Seminary, as well as Archbishop Theophylact Rusanov, who later became well-known. In his memoirs, written in the mid-19th century, Martynov writes: “For the Ecclesiastical Department, this was the first experiment—to gather from all ecclesiastical schools (i.e., seminaries. —I. S.) two or three students (from the philosophy or theology classes) to this seminary here, to teach them, using a single method, a course in the sciences and languages appropriate to a spiritual education, and then to send them back to those same seminaries to take up teaching positions for which they are deemed worthy”[1403] . The seminary curriculum was as follows. In the first grade—and for the most part in the second as well—students studied a brief catechism, Russian spelling, and grammar. In the third grade—Latin and Church Slavonic grammar, translation from Russian into Latin, and arithmetic. In the fourth (syntactic) grade, students began studying geography and history. In the fifth, “poetic,” class, students studied classical poetry—which they translated themselves—the basics of classical mythology, and the church order (Typikon). The sixth-grade (“rhetoric”) curriculum included biblical history, the church order, and rhetoric. Instruction in the seventh class (“philosophers”) was more thorough; here, students studied all the sciences that were considered components of philosophy in the 18th century: logic, metaphysics, politics (i.e., history), natural history, and the history of philosophy (primarily ancient). The eighth, theological, class—due to a shortage of teachers—appeared, with few exceptions, only in the second half of the 18th century, and even then only in some seminaries. The subjects taught there included hermeneutics, dogmatics, moral theology, apologetics, and Church history; students studied the Paschal Table and the Kormchaya Kniga, and also learned the “Book on the Duties of Church Presbyters” almost by heart. The Alexander Nevsky Seminary was one of those few exceptions where philosophy and theology were already being studied in the 1730s.

At the Pskov Seminary, a philosophy class was established in 1739 thanks to the efforts of Bishop Raphael Zaborovsky, and a theology class was organized in 1746 by Bishop Simon Todorsky. At the Smolensk Seminary in 1739, the philosophy class had 16 students. At the Kharkiv College, which was exemplary in terms of the quality of its instruction, all classes were already in place by the early 1730s. Bishop Innokenty Nechaev, an outstanding hierarch of the Catherine the Great era, introduced the teaching of church singing at the Pskov Seminary in 1773. Starting in 1768, the textbook used for the study of theology there was Platon Levshin’s * *, and the subject was taught in Russian. By order of Bishop Innokenty, instruction in other classes also began to be conducted in Russian starting in 1775. However, as early as 1803, this principle was abandoned: theology was once again taught in Latin, and the “philosophy” students were given as textbooks the works of Friedrich Christian Baumeister (1709–1786), written as far back as 1736: *Institutiones philosophiae rationalis* [“Principles of Rational Philosophy” (Latin)] and “Institutiones philosophiae metaphysicae” [“Principles of Metaphysical Philosophy” (Latin)][1404] .

The Kharkiv College adopted the 1769 instructions of Bishop Samuel Mislavsky of Belgorod as its basis. They differed little from the curriculum of the Kyiv Academy, but are notable for the author’s critical stance toward Theophan Prokopovich’s system. “The teaching of theology,” it states, “should be conducted according to the system of His Eminence Archbishop Theophan Prokopovich, but the superfluous rhetorical embellishments and certain offensive words should be completely excluded”[1405] . It should be noted that Innokenty Dubrovitsky, rector of the Alexander Nevsky Seminary, also spoke critically of Theophan’s theology, as can be judged by the words of his student I. I. Martynov: “This sea is vast and expansive, but there are also countless serpents within it”[1406] . Here is another statement by Bishop Samuel on the teaching of theology: “Teach theology as a single discipline, and do not compose a new curriculum for each course, nor alter it in any way… take constant care… that the theological system be concise and not protracted” (§ 6). Samuel advocated for instruction in the Russian language and insisted that students master the Great Russian pronunciation in class. Philosophical debates, in his view, should also be conducted exclusively in Russian. As a basis for such debates, he recommended Wolf’s works: *Physics* (translated by B. Volkov: St. Petersburg, 1760) and *Experimental Physics* (translated by M. Lomonosov: St. Petersburg, 1748). Students were to “compose at least three sermons,” while adhering to Archimandrite Platon Levshin’s *Orthodox Doctrine of the Faith* (§ 8, 9). “In Russian eloquence and poetry,” wrote Samuel, “one must pay special attention to the elegance and purity of the Russian style,” as well as to spelling and correct stress patterns (the latter posed considerable difficulties for Ukrainian students). Regarding teaching methods, Bishop Samuel noted that mindless rote memorization is harmful and that students should be taught “to master the rules through their practical application and practice” (§§ 4, 7, 3, 13). As was customary in seminaries, Samuel also proposed basing the philosophy course on Baumister’s works. The theology instructor receives specific instructions from him on how to teach the subject: in addition to Theophan’s theology, the most renowned Christian authors should be drawn upon: “It is not enough to present to students only the dogmas of the faith, supported by strong evidence from Holy Scripture and the testimonies of the Holy Fathers; but, of course, it is also necessary to present the objections, *objectiones*, arising from the opposing side for each dogma and to resolve them briefly, firmly, and thoroughly, especially in such a way that, on this occasion, the clearest passages of Holy Scripture are revealed and shown to the students rather than the opposing ones; and thus one must always compare one passage with another and reconcile the obscure with the clearest, the few with the many, which clearly reveal the truth” (§ 4)[1407] .

From time to time, seminaries held ceremonial events in the form of public examinations, which were called “disputations.” During these events, the students’ finest compositions were read aloud, and alongside the choral pieces performed by the seminary choir, solo performances could sometimes be heard as well. The rector or one of the faculty members would speak about the significance of theology and philosophy as academic disciplines. The best students would deliver presentations in “Latin dialect” on various theological or philosophical topics, followed by critical comments from fellow presenters. Students in the lower grades recited poetry. In May, “recreational events” were held: on a green meadow or in the seminary garden, the students played, sang, and sometimes put on theatrical performances—comedies, dramas, and tragedies, usually of a classical nature.

g) Outwardly, the organization of instruction in the academies differed little from that in the seminaries. Here, too, there were eight grades, which could be completed within 12 years. The teaching method was the same as well. Particular attention was paid to Latin, in which, as had been the custom since ancient times, instruction was conducted. This was not limited to translating ancient authors—students were strictly required to use Latin in everyday speech [1408] . In the history of the Moscow Theological Academy, historian S. K. Smirnov distinguishes three periods. The first—from the learned Greek monks, the brothers Sofroniy and Ioannikiy Likhudov, to Palladius Rogovskiy, that is, approximately until 1700—was a period dominated by the Greek language; indeed, the academy itself bore the name “Hellenic-Greek.” The second period (1700–1775) began with Palladius Rogovsky and lasted until the time of Metropolitan Plato. During this period, priority was given to the Latin language, and the academy came to be known as the Latin or Slavic-Latin Academy. The third period, when the academy was called the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy, spans the time from Metropolitan Plato to the academy’s reform and its relocation to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra (1775–1814)[1409] .

The Latinization of the academy began with the appointment of Stefan Yavorsky as its protector in 1701. Stefan Yavorsky was a graduate of the Kyiv Theological Academy, where instruction was conducted in Latin and, in theological matters, was not free from Roman Catholic influence. However, this Latinization did not at all imply any fundamental hostility on Yavorsky’s part toward the Greek language or Greek Orthodox disciplines; apparently, he simply found it more convenient for instruction at the academy entrusted to him to be conducted using the scholastic method with which he was familiar. Nor should we forget that the academic level of the Likhud brothers’ academy was far lower than that of the Kyiv Academy, which served as a model for Stefan Yavorsky. The beginning of Latinization was marked by Peter I’s decree of 1701 on the introduction of Latin instruction at the academy. During his recently concluded trip abroad, the tsar had become convinced of the great importance of the Latin language in Europe—both for the education system and for the civil service—and wished to use this language as one of the means of Europeanizing Russia. Thus, the tsar’s personal views on this matter fully coincided with Stefan Yavorsky’s intentions. The only place where Stefan Yavorsky, as patron of the Moscow Academy, could find support for his efforts to raise its academic standards was the Kyiv Academy, which was able to provide him with trained academic staff to bolster the teaching faculty. Faculty members from the Kyiv Academy arrived in Moscow in 1704; they taught using Kyiv textbooks and “introduced into the academy’s life the practices long established in Kyiv—in short, they imbued it with their spirit and their direction”[1410] . With the arrival of these faculty members, scholasticism took hold at the academy. Latin became, for a long time, the main subject of theological education, and it was truly astonishing to what level of mastery the students attained in it: “With such persistent training in the Latin language, the students achieved an astonishing fluency in its use, the extent of which we can now scarcely imagine. For the best students, it became something of a second nature, so that they seemed to think in Latin; at the very least, when they happened to write something down in Russian or, for example, later on in the upper grades, to sketch out a plan for a Russian essay on paper, they would involuntarily intersperse their Russian speech with Latin phrases, and some experts even wrote all their essays originally in Latin and only later translated them into Russian”[1411] . The influence of Latin was also evident in the subsequent activities of the academy’s graduates. One need only point to the distinctive language of church sermons in the 18th and early 19th centuries, with its Latinisms and long sentences clearly constructed according to the rules of Latin syntax. This distorted the style of even the finest preachers of that time.

The study of Greek in Moscow began at the Greek School founded upon the return of the Likhud brothers, which operated from 1722 to 1724 at the Synodal Printing House, and from 1724 to 1740 at the Moscow Academy, and from 1740 onward, once again at the Synodal Printing House [1412] . In connection with Catherine II’s “Greek Project,” the Holy Synod issued an order in 1784 mandating the in-depth study of the Greek language at academies and seminaries. At the Kharkiv Collegium, conversational Modern Greek was also taught [1413] . At the Moscow Academy, Greek had been taught alongside Ancient Hebrew since 1738, but the academy’s administration showed little interest in the subject. Greek was not even mentioned in the 1768 curriculum [1414] , and it was only Metropolitan Plato who brought its study to the forefront by organizing two classes at the academy in 1777—one for beginners and one for advanced students. When, in 1798, the Holy Synod undertook a revision of the curricula for theological schools, it made the study of Greek mandatory for all academy students [1415] .

Teaching theology was the rector’s responsibility, but in exceptional cases, the prefect could also do so. Of the five theology textbooks used at the Moscow Academy prior to Metropolitan Platon, the most significant were “Scientia sacra” [“Sacred Science from the Perspective of Theology” (Latin)] by Theophylact Lopatinsky (based on the lecture series from 1706–1710) and “Theologia positiva et polemica” [“Positive and Polemical Theology” (Latin)] by Cyril Florinsky (based on the lectures from 1737–1740). These lectures were, of course, delivered in Latin. Theological System by Theophylact Lopatinsky is based on Thomas Aquinas and is nothing other than a scholastically refined and equally Thomistic Kyiv system in the editions of 1697 and 1701–1703. Regarding Cyril Florinsky, S. K. Smirnov notes that one can already sense his tentative attempts at a clearer exposition of theology; “however much Florinsky strove to free his exposition of theological doctrine from the shackles of scholasticism, he could not completely escape its long-standing influence.” In the 1762 “Course in Theology,” apparently authored by the academy’s rector, Gavriil Petrov (1761–1763), the influence of Theophan Prokopovich is already evident, “yet there is still room for scholasticism”[1416] . With the publication of a textbook compiled by Archimandrite Platon Levshin in Russian, a shift away from scholasticism began, ushering in a new era in the teaching of theology.

At the Kyiv Academy in the early 18th century, the tone was set by Ioasaf Krokowski’s scholastic-theological system, which, as Makarii Bulgakov noted, is not strictly speaking a system but rather a series of treatises. The theological system of Theophan Prokopovich, which he outlined—albeit incompletely—in * * in his lectures from 1711 to 1715 at the Kyiv Academy, also consisted of seven treatises; however, in contrast to the courses of his predecessors, it bore clear signs of a strong Protestant influence [1417] . The most significant of Theophanes’ successors was the academy’s rector, Archimandrite Sylvester Kulyabka. The series of lectures he delivered in 1741–1745, also published in the form of treatises in 1786 under the title “Compendium orthodoxae theologiae doctrinae” [“A Brief Exposition of Orthodox Theological Doctrine” (Latin)], was, on the one hand, not free from scholasticism, but on the other—like Theophanes’s work—drew upon the writings of Protestant theologians. Theophanes’s strong influence is undoubtedly evident in the lectures of Georgy Konissky, rector of the academy from 1751 to 1755. Arsenius of Mohyla, Metropolitan of Kyiv, wanted theology to be taught using a single textbook and initially (in 1759) recommended Platon Levshin’s book *Orthodox Doctrine, or A Brief Christian Theology* for this purpose. However, in 1763 he ultimately preferred Theophan Prokopovich’s system, which has since become dominant at the Kyiv Academy. Although the instructions issued by the academy’s rector, Samuel Mislavsky (1761–1768), emphasized the Bible, patristics, the acts of the Ecumenical and Local Councils, and the “Orthodox Confession” by Petro Mohyla, at the same time Samuel took it upon himself to publish Theophan Prokopovich’s system, which appeared in 1782–1784 with additions by Samuel himself; in 1804, this book was republished by Iriney Falkovsky in an abridged version intended for teaching in schools.

In Moscow, Theophan’s theology gained prominence thanks to a course taught by Theophylact Gorsky from 1769 to 1774, which also drew upon the works of the Protestant theologians Buddeus and Schubert. In 1784, Gorsky’s lectures, *Orthodoxae Orientalis Ecclesiae dogmata, seu Doctrina christiana de credendis et agendis* ["Dogmas of the Orthodox Eastern Church, or Christian Doctrine on What to Believe and How to Act" (Latin)] were published; they remained a classic textbook on theology not only for the Moscow Academy until the early 19th century but also, for a long time, for theological seminaries [1418] .

The Protestant theology of Theophan Prokopovich and his followers prevailed not only at the academy but also in the seminaries. With it began, as G. Florovsky observed, “the dominance of scholastic Protestantism”[1419] . At the Kolomna Seminary, it was introduced by Iakinf Karpinsky; at the Kazan Seminary, and later at the Kazan Academy, by Silvestr Lebedinsky. In the early 1790s, Theophan’s system was studied at the Poltava Seminary, based on Samuel Mislavsky’s three-volume edition, as well as at the Kharkiv Seminary, where Mislavsky himself introduced it. In 1797–1798, however, Innokenty, the rector of the Alexander Nevsky Seminary, preferred the Protestant theologian Turretini ([1420] ) in his lectures on dogmatics.

It goes without saying that at the Moscow Academy, alongside Theophylact of Gorsk’s textbook, Plato Levshin’s book was also used during the time he taught there. In his history of the academy, S. K. Smirnov specifically emphasizes the fact that Plato broke with the scholastic tradition in teaching: “His *Christian Theology*, although in terms of its intended purpose it resembles catechetical discourses more than a systematic work of theology, was nonetheless a welcome development for the school, insofar as it contributed to the definitive decline of scholasticism. In his work, theology abandons its old forms and, instead of a haphazard collection of questions, theses, proofs, definitions, and divisions, presents a coherent exposition of the doctrine that is accessible to everyone. Another novelty was that Plato’s *Theology* was written in Russian”[1421] . However, beginning in 1802, the book by Irenaeus Falkowski, rector of the Kyiv Academy (1803–1804), *Theologiae christianae compendium* [“A Brief Exposition of Christian Theology” (Latin)], which was an abridged presentation of Theophan Prokopovich’s Protestant system, thereby overshadowing, to some extent, the work of Platon Levshin [1422] .

The teaching of philosophy—the most important discipline after theology—at the Kyiv Academy until 1752 was based on a scholastic interpretation of Aristotle, using the old notes of Ioasaf Krokowski. Later, in Samuel Mislavsky’s 1764 directive, the aforementioned works of the Protestant Baumister were declared the mandatory foundation for philosophy courses; these works, incidentally, were also reprinted in Moscow in 1777. Baumister was a Wolfian, and Glebov, the Governor-General of Kyiv, accurately reported to the Empress that philosophy “is taught at this academy according to the Wolfian system.” This school of thought persisted in Kyiv until the reforms of 1808–1814.[1423]

From the lecture notes preserved in the archives of the Moscow Academy, it is evident that throughout the entire period—beginning with Theophylact Lopatinsky’s course in 1704 and continuing through the lectures of Prefect Archimandrite Vladimir Calligraph in 1757—philosophy was also taught in the spirit of Aristotle. Regarding Theophylact Lopatinsky, the Academy’s historian writes that in his description of “philosophical sects,” he went as far as Descartes, calling him “vir illustris ingenii” [a man of brilliant talents (Latin)], though “he did not, however, attribute a guiding role to his research.” Although he mentioned various Church Fathers, “Aristotle always took center stage for him,” both in terms of content and method. Lopatinsky’s scholasticism was initially supported by his successors, but by the middle of the century, according to the same historian, “the new philosophy of Bacon, Descartes, Leibniz, and Wolff began, imperceptibly to the scholastics, to exert its influence and gradually supplant empty scholastic subtleties.” Vladimir Kalligraph, a baptized Jew and graduate of the Kiev Theological Academy, was also an Aristotelian. In his sermons, he allegedly criticized the veneration of the Mother of God and the saints, for which he was sent by the abbot as a punishment to the Spassky Monastery in Yaroslavl, where he died in 1760. His lectures at the Moscow Academy are full of references to Leibniz [1424] . S. K. Smirnov sees in the lectures of Lopatinsky and Kalligraph “almost the last attempt at a scholastic textbook on philosophy at the Moscow Academy—an attempt in which one can discern signs of a transition from scholasticism to the clear teachings of Wolffian philosophy, which was soon adopted in schools through Baumeister”[1425] . The negative attitude toward Aristotle and Scholasticism on the part of the Academy’s director, later Metropolitan Platon, was already unequivocally reflected in a 1764 letter from the 27-year-old hieromonk to his student, Crown Prince Pavel Petrovich: “Secular learning has expanded and flourished beyond measure since the time when Descartes, a zealous champion of truth, having freed himself from Aristotelian bondage, set the inquiring mind on the path of clear and vigilant inquiry. A new light has dawned; the sciences have presented themselves in a new and splendid form and have attracted a multitude of enthusiasts, whom the darkness that had previously spread under scholarly domination had kept away from them”[1426] . It is possible that these views of the young Platon Levshin (born June 29, 1737) were shaped under the influence of Calligraph’s lectures, which he attended at the academy. The deepening and expansion of the study of philosophy at the Moscow Academy was greatly facilitated by its prefect (1775–1778) and later rector (1778–1782), Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev, who had thoroughly mastered the philosophy of H. Wolff at the University of Göttingen. He supplemented Baumister’s textbook—which lacked a section on logic and the entire section on physics—based on the works of other Wolfians, and was the first to use Bruckner’s *Geschichte der philosophischen Systeme* [“History of Philosophical Systems” (Latin)] in his lectures. Starting in the 1780s, the course on that branch of philosophy traditionally known as “physics”[1427] was significantly expanded. All these principles of teaching philosophy remained in effect until the reform of 1814.[1428]

From the early 18th century, rhetoric at the Kyiv Academy was studied using lecture notes written by the instructors. In 1762, the Academy’s rector, Georgy Konissky, compiled detailed instructions for students in all classes (except the philosophy and theology classes), which required “rhetoricians” to read and translate the speeches and letters of Cicero, as well as those of Horace. This curriculum remained in place until 1775, when textbooks on Latin rhetoric by Burgius and on Russian rhetoric by Lomonosov were introduced. In the syntax and grammar classes, students focused primarily on Latin grammar. In the 1780s, Irenaeus Falkowski delivered remarkable lectures on mathematics, which always drew large audiences. For nearly 50 years, the Chair of Greek was held by Simon Todorsky and Varlaam Lyashevsky, both outstanding experts in the field, who also taught Ancient Hebrew. Lyashchevsky’s Greek grammar remained for a long time the most popular textbook not only at the Kyiv Academy but also at the Moscow Academy and in seminaries. Church history was taught according to Rechenberg starting in 1798, and hermeneutics according to *Institutiones hermeneuticae sacrae* [“Fundamentals of the Hermeneutics of Sacred Texts” (Latin)] (1724) by Johann Jakob Rambach (1693–1735), also a Protestant [1429] .

The oldest surviving textbooks for the rhetoric class at the Moscow Academy were written in 1741–1742. In the second half of the 18th century and in the early 19th century (prior to the 1814 reform), Burghi’s rhetoric textbook was in use. Along with the sermons of Metropolitan Platon, students read speeches by Lomonosov, as well as works by Cicero, Lactantius, and Jerome. The teaching of “poetics” in Moscow followed the same curriculum as in Kyiv, except that in the second half of the century, readings by Kantemir, Sumarokov, and Derzhavin were added to Lomonosov’s works. In the lower grades, students intensively studied Latin grammar and translated Cicero, Horace, and other authors. In the second half of the 18th century, students at the Moscow Academy also worked on translating Thomas à Kempis’s *De imitatione Christi* [*The Imitation of Christ* (Latin)] and the letters of Erasmus. In the Greek class, where instruction had been conducted more vigorously since 1784 (and from 1798, according to a decree of the Holy Synod, the study of Greek and Ancient Hebrew became mandatory for all students), instruction was based on Lyashevsky’s grammar; the class focused primarily on translations from the New Testament. Metropolitan Plato paid special attention to the teaching of ancient Hebrew. In the rhetoric class, beginning in 1786, the history of the early Church—referred to as “Sacred History”—was introduced as an elective subject and taught (as it would be in the following century) based on the work of I. M. Schrockh (1733–1808). German and French were studied in Moscow and Kyiv, and Polish was also taught in Kyiv. Other disciplines included geography, mathematics, and medicine. The Church Order (Typikon) was not taught at the Moscow Academy until 1798. Faculty members of the Moscow Academy delivered sermons and lectures in city churches on topics largely assigned personally by Metropolitan Platon; most often, these concerned New Testament ethics [1430] . In 1806, another subject was introduced at the Moscow Academy—the history of the Russian Church—which was taught using Metropolitan Platon’s recently published *A Brief History of the Russian Church*. The instructions issued by the Metropolitan himself on this matter are quite interesting: “It would not be a bad idea to test the students to see whether they approve of everything, whether they have any doubts, or whether they offer any reasonable criticism. In such cases, doubts should be clarified, reasonable criticism should be commended, and unwise criticism should be corrected”[1431] .

g) After the transformation of the Alexander Nevsky and Kazan seminaries into academies in 1797, the Holy Synod addressed the issue of teaching and education in theological institutions as a whole. The result was the Holy Synod’s decree of 1798, which constituted the Charter of Theological Schools. It did not entail any reforms in the strict sense of the word, but in some respects it nevertheless represented a definite step forward. The curriculum for the theology class was designed to last three years, while that for the philosophy class was designed to last two years. High-achieving students could be appointed to certain positions as early as their third year in the theology class. Instruction in both classes was conducted in Latin. In addition to the subjects customary for seminaries, the curriculum included a brief history of the Church, hermeneutics, systematic dogmatics and apologetics, theological ethics, and Paschal theology; furthermore, students were required to read the Bible with explanations of the most difficult passages, the Book of Guidance, and the “Book on the Duties of Church Presbyters.” As part of their practical training, students were required to deliver public sermons before the Sunday Liturgy, typically on topics from the Epistles of the Apostles, with a special emphasis on ethical conclusions. Another type of practical exercise was to be the writing of dissertations for “philosophers,” and for “theologians,” preaching before an assembly of teachers and students, and sometimes in church. Twice a year, the academies were to hold open debates on philosophical and theological topics. In place of the history and geography class, a class in advanced rhetoric in Latin and Russian was established, also featuring practical sessions aimed at developing preaching skills. The philosophy class curriculum included physics, a brief history of philosophy, logic, metaphysics, ethics, and natural history. “Rhetoricians” were required to read and translate the best Latin authors, as well as to read Russian literature. According to this Charter, the academies were administered by rectors and prefects, who had chancelleries at their disposal (§ 2–6, 9).

Further provisions of the 1798 Charter pertained to the seminaries.

Every two years, the two best students from each seminary were sent to the academy—specifically to the one to which that seminary was “assigned.” The seminary bore the costs of their education at the academy and was also required to provide them with clothing and shoes. Upon graduation from the academy, the scholarship recipients returned to their home seminaries as instructors. Diocesan bishops were required to ensure that the most promising seminary students were admitted to the academy (§§ 7, 8, 10–12, 1). Bishops were strictly forbidden from “assigning” seminarians to secular service without the permission of the Holy Synod [1432] .

This Charter, which served as the primary document governing theological education until the reforms of 1808–1814, essentially made few changes to the previous system of instruction. The expansion of the academy’s curriculum through the introduction of specialized disciplines designed to turn future clergy into qualified preachers failed to achieve its goal, since most, if not all, of the academy’s graduates chose a career in teaching. The ranks of the parish clergy were replenished mainly by graduates of seminaries rather than academies. However, certain provisions of the Synodal Decree of 1798 already foreshadowed the reform of 1808–1814, which radically transformed the entire system of education in theological institutions.

§ 20. Theological Education from the School Reform of 1808–1814 to 1867

a) In the 19th century, a series of reforms were carried out in the field of theological education, which had both positive and negative consequences. The latter can be explained in part by the fact that, initially, each individual reform was not so much aimed at improving theological education as it was a reflection of the political views prevailing at the time, so that the needs of theological schools were far from being adequately taken into account. The reforms never originated with the Holy Synod; it merely implemented them, acting under pressure from the prevailing political trend or the state authorities, represented by the Chief Prosecutor.

The reforms took root in the atmosphere of enthusiasm characteristic of the early years of Alexander I’s reign, imbued with the ideas of public enlightenment. The entire educated society followed the government’s initiatives with interest and sympathy [1433] . These ideas could not help but affect the theological seminary and the clergy as a whole, since their caste-like isolation had not yet developed to the extent of completely cutting them off from all trends within the educated strata of society. Moreover, the shortcomings of theological education and the need for financial support for theological seminaries had been widely recognized since the time of Catherine II. As has now been established, the true initiator of the reform should be considered Bishop Evgeny Bolkhovitinov (1767–1837), Vicar of Starorussk in the Novgorod Diocese, who later became Metropolitan of Kyiv (1822–1837) and a member of the Holy Synod (1824–1837)[1434] .

Evgeny graduated from the Voronezh Seminary and then from the Moscow Academy, while also attending lectures at the university; he was noted for his knowledge of French literature and maintained close ties with Novikov’s circle. As the vicar bishop of Novgorod, he had the opportunity to discuss issues of spiritual education with Ambrose Podobedov, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg, who took a keen interest in questions of pedagogy [1435] . These conversations culminated in the “Outline” of the reform, compiled by Bishop Evgeny at the metropolitan’s request, which outlined its most fundamental aspects in general terms; it became the first step in preparing the reform [1436] . Eugene advocated for reducing the role of Latin, including in the teaching of philosophy and theology, as well as for giving academic education a more scientific rather than didactic character. The academies were to become, like universities, centers of ecclesiastical educational districts and acquire the authority to supervise ecclesiastical schools at both the higher and lower levels, as well as in the area of ecclesiastical censorship. These theses by the young bishop, alongside a high regard for the role of science, reflected the spirit of the reforms that had by then been implemented in secular educational institutions. The 1803 Decree on the Reform of Ecclesiastical Education shows that the ideas in “The Outline” were fully in line with the views of Alexander I and the Holy Synod [1437] . A significant shortcoming of “The Outline”—which, in general, was limited to theoretical considerations—was that it remained silent on the question of organizing a solid and permanent material foundation for theological education. Fortunately, this shortcoming was compensated for to some extent thanks to an idea proposed by Archbishop Anastasius Bratanovsky of Mogilev, a member of the Holy Synod, who recalled a forgotten decree of Peter I declaring the sale of church candles a monopoly of the Church and proposed that the proceeds from this monopoly be directed toward the maintenance of schools. Although these funds were, of course, insufficient, they nevertheless constituted a stable source of revenue for the school budget, which could be supplemented by state subsidies.

On November 29, 1807, by decree of Alexander I, the Committee for the Improvement of Theological Schools was established. As early as June 26, 1808, the committee presented to the emperor its “Draft Rules on the Education of Theological Schools,” which was subsequently approved [1438] . This draft, authored directly by M. M. Speransky, clearly reflected the influence of reforms already implemented in the field of secular education. At the head of the entire system of theological schools was the Commission on Theological Schools, which reported to the Holy Synod and would later evolve into a virtually independent body. The four types, or four levels, of schools—namely, academies, seminaries, county schools, and parish schools—also served as administrative units: direct administrative contact existed only between the commission and the level immediately below it—the academies—and similarly between all four levels. The academies were tasked with training priests, learned monks, and teachers for theological schools. Each academy headed a theological-educational district and supervised the seminaries located within it. Seminaries prepared their students for admission to the academies, for service in parishes, and—should the government so require—for study at the Medical Academy. Accordingly, district schools served as a precursor to the seminaries; furthermore, they were intended to provide educational opportunities at the lowest possible cost. Parish schools were intended to bring uniform, methodologically sound instruction to the villages, ensuring that young people were subject to universal, uniform supervision based on firm rules. Both the schools’ financial reports and the funds allocated to them by the commission were required to pass through all relevant intermediate authorities in sequence.

Each of the four academies, directly subordinate to the commission, administered an educational district to which a certain number of dioceses, along with all their schools, were assigned. The seminaries were closely linked to the academies to which they were directly subordinate. Seminary graduates could continue their education only at “their own” academy, and the teaching staff of the seminaries was recruited exclusively from among graduates of the corresponding academy. This arrangement was already stipulated in the Charter of 1798. Each of the 36 dioceses existing in 1808 was required to have one seminary, 10 county schools, and up to 30 parish schools. Since prices—and consequently the costs of maintaining educational institutions—varied greatly across the vast empire, all dioceses and their seminaries were divided into three categories for the purpose of staffing allocations.

The academies established an external administration, which oversaw the schools subordinate to them within a given ecclesiastical-educational district, and an internal administration, which handled academic affairs. Furthermore, Conferences for the Promotion of Learning were established at the academies, primarily in the field of theological sciences. The plan called for the organization of the St. Petersburg Ecclesiastical-Educational District by 1814, followed by the establishment of the remaining districts in the following order: Moscow, Kyiv, and Kazan.

With the publication of the decree of June 26, 1808, the members of the Preparatory Committee, which had been disbanded at that time, were transferred to the newly formed Commission on Ecclesiastical Schools. The leading role in addressing the first of the commission’s primary tasks—namely, the development of detailed charters for schools at all four levels—once again fell to M. M. Speransky. He wrote the introduction to the charters in the form of a philosophical treatise, as well as the first part of the Charter of the Theological Academies. Due to his heavy workload in state affairs, Speransky was forced to entrust the task of completing the Charter of the Academies and drafting the other charters to Archbishop Theophylact Rusanov of Ryazan [1439] .

Under the new Charter, the academies served as centers of theological scholarship and, at the same time, as theological educational institutions. The academy was headed by a council consisting of full members and—in the spirit of patronage characteristic of the era of Alexander I—a certain number of honorary members, as well as corresponding members. The latter were co-opted by the full members and could belong to either the clergy or the laity. The full members of the conference included the diocesan bishop, the rector of the academy, a specified number of professors, and up to ten clergymen, distinguished by their education and diligence. The conference’s responsibilities included organizing an annual ceremonial gathering to mark the anniversary of the Commission on Theological Schools’ founding, as well as working sessions to conduct public examinations for academy graduates and to confer the status of full student and the academic degrees of candidate, master, or doctor of theology. The latter two academic degrees were intended for candidates for the position of associate professor, for academy faculty members, or for authors of serious scholarly works. In June and December of each year, the conference of full members administered examinations to students. In addition, three of the full members were elected to the censorship committee of the academic district under the academy’s jurisdiction. The Academy’s internal administration, which was under the supervision of the diocesan bishop, consisted of a rector, who was responsible not only for the teaching process but also for all other aspects of Academy life; an inspector, who was tasked with overseeing the moral education of the students; and a treasurer. Two faculty members were appointed as assistants to the inspector. The student dormitory had a dorm supervisor who was required to report to the inspector on the students’ conduct. The external board consisted of two members of the internal board and two other members of the conference. Its responsibilities included overseeing teaching in the seminaries, as well as appointing teachers to them. At the same time, it was to avoid unnecessary transfers of teachers from one seminary to another.

The reform had a profound impact on the very organization of education. Alongside grammar and history, a great deal of time in higher education was devoted to philosophy and theology. The lower grades were abolished. The entire academy curriculum was now divided into two two-year courses, that is, it was designed to last four years. The first year included the study of: 1) literature, aesthetics, and “general philosophical grammar”; 2) general history, Church history, and ancient Greek and Old Russian history; 3) mathematics, including advanced mathematics. The study of philosophy in the second year included: 1) theoretical and practical physics; 2) the entirety of metaphysics; 3) the history of philosophy. The theology curriculum for this year included the following subjects: 1) dogmatics, 2) ethics, 3) apologetics, 4) hermeneutics, 5) homiletics, and 6) canon law. The foreign languages studied were: Greek, Latin, Ancient Hebrew, French, and German.

The full six-year seminary program consisted of three two-year cycles: 1) rhetoric, 2) philosophy, and 3) theology. The following subjects were taught here: 1) literature, 2) secular history, 3) geography, 4) mathematics, 5) physics, 6) philosophy, 7) Scripture, 8) hermeneutics, 9) Church history, 10) Christian archaeology, 11) dogmatic, moral, and pastoral theology, 12) Paschal theology. The study of Latin, Greek, and Hebrew was mandatory, while German and French were optional.

The curriculum of the district theological schools, also designed to last six years, included the following subjects: grammar, arithmetic, detailed catechism, a concise overview of history and geography, church regulations (the Typikon), an introduction to classical languages, and church singing. In parish schools, which prepared students for district schools, students were taught reading, writing, calligraphy, the four arithmetic operations, the basics of Russian grammar, a brief catechism, and church singing [1440] .

Based on this curriculum, the government tended to take an optimistic view of the further development of spiritual education along the path of “true enlightenment.” A decree by Alexander I dated August 30, 1814, expressed the desire to “establish schools of truth.” “Enlightenment,” it states, “in its essence is the spreading of light, and, of course, it must be that light which shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. By holding fast to this light in all circumstances, we must lead students to the true sources and by those methods through which the Gospel teaches very simply yet wisely; there it is said that Christ is the way, the truth, and the life; consequently, the inner formation of young men toward active Christianity shall be the sole purpose of these schools.” If the Commission on Theological Schools, in guiding theological education, is guided by these fundamental requirements, then “on this basis it will be possible to establish the teaching that is necessary for them (the students—Ed.) according to their station, without fear of the abuse of reason, which will be subordinated to the sanctification of the Most High”[1441] . These words, which reflect Alexander I’s mindset during the period of the Holy Alliance, did not so much outline the tasks of the theological school as express the spirit in which future pastors of the Church and ecclesiastical scholars were to be educated.

Contemporaries highly praised the reform and its principles. They recalled them with sadness ten years later, when the spirit of the reforms seemed to have completely dissipated. At the beginning of Nicholas I’s reign, a critical attitude toward the main provisions of the 1808–1814 reforms prevailed; at that time, Filaret Amfiteatrov, then Bishop of Ryazan, wrote to Filaret Drozdov: “I view the theological schools as a beautiful plant which, by God’s grace and the monarch’s mercy, was warmed and watered, had just begun to blossom, and promised abundant fruit—but suddenly a drought struck. God only knows from where this parching wind blew, when it will cease, and what will become of this plant”[1442] . For about 25 years, this “beautiful plant,” planted and nurtured by the Commission on Theological Schools, slowly withered away while resisting the “parching wind.” No sooner had it managed to put down new roots following the reforms of 1867–1869 than another “drought”—that of the Pobedonostsev era—struck, finally destroying it. In the memory of subsequent generations, the commission’s work remained shrouded in an aura of glory, and this was due not to its practical successes but to its principles. Such is the assessment, expressed a century later by a far-from-liberal Church historian, Professor F. Titov of the Kyiv Academy: “This school was established by the renowned Commission on Theological Schools, in whose work the finest representatives of the Church and theological education of the first half of the 19th century took part. When Makarii Bulgakov and his classmates were studying there, this school had not yet been corrupted by the reforms that were soon implemented there at the initiative of Count Protasov, the well-known Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. It was an ideologically driven school that instilled in its students a spirit of self-awareness and a philosophical, serious attitude toward everything around them, encouraging them to engage in free and critical discussion of all questions of the spirit and life”[1443] .

b) Emperor Alexander I approved a bill stipulating that revenue from the sale of church candles would serve as a source of funding for theological schools [1444] . At Speransky’s suggestion, the following measures were taken to supplement these insufficient funds, which by 1814 were expected to provide a capital of 25 million rubles: 1) The Holy Synod deposited a portion of church property valued at 1,200,000 rubles in a bank for a term of six years. It was planned to proceed in the same manner with 2) the annual proceeds from the sale of candles, amounting to up to 3 million rubles, and 3) a portion of payments from the state treasury totaling 1,800,000 rubles. After six years, the sum of the principal and interest was expected to yield the specified 25 million rubles. In order to increase the funds allocated by the dioceses for the maintenance of county schools, a church monopoly was declared in 1810 on the sale of wreaths and prayer cards (for the deceased). The academy’s annual budget was 55,800 rubles; the seminary’s budget, depending on its category, was 17,000, 14,375, and 12,850 rubles. The budgets for county theological schools were set at 1,500, 1,200, and 900 rubles, respectively, while those for parish schools were 550, 475, and 400 rubles. The increase in these allocations, implemented in 1820, gave an advantage to educational institutions in St. Petersburg and the St. Petersburg educational district. Overall, the budget for theological schools grew from 923,350 rubles to 1,674,120 rubles. Subsidies from the state treasury, which initially amounted to 400,000 rubles, exceeded one million [1445] .

In 1825, there were 3 theological academies, 39 seminaries, 128 district theological schools, and 170 parish schools. The number of students rose from 29,000 in 1808 to 45,551, of whom 12,249 were recipients of state scholarships (see § 19). A quarter of a century later, that is, in 1850, the statistics paint the following picture: 4 academies (including the Kazan Academy), 47 seminaries (including 6 new ones and 2 that were reestablished following the 1839 annexation of the Uniates of Belarus to the Orthodox Church, namely the Lithuanian and Polotsk seminaries), 182 district theological schools, and 188 parish schools. The total number of students was 61,335, of whom 19,210 were state-funded. The schools’ assets, valued at 10,463,000 rubles (in silver) in 1824, had reached 15,789,200 rubles by 1849. Interest income rose from 591,000 rubles in 1824 to 828,500 rubles in 1849. During the same period, revenue from the sale of church candles increased from 431,360 to 826,000 rubles. The expenses of the Holy Synod’s Department of Spiritual Education doubled over these 25 years: in 1849, they totaled 1,655,980 rubles. In 1836, under Chief Prosecutor Count Protasov, the budget allocations were increased to raise teachers’ salaries and, in part, to maintain school buildings. The budget for the academies rose from 78,000 to 91,600 rubles, and that of the St. Petersburg Academy—to nearly 150,000 rubles; salaries for teachers at both the academies and other educational institutions were raised by 80–100 percent. The allowances paid to state scholarship recipients also increased. Subsidies from the state treasury now amounted to 468,225 rubles per year [1446] .

Under Nicholas I, class-based schools were opened for the daughters of clergymen, primarily because tuition at existing girls’ schools (which, with the exception of the educational institutions of the “Department of Empress Maria,” were private boarding schools) proved too high for the clergy. The newly established girls’ schools, which were partially funded by diocesan boards of trustees, were primarily intended for orphans from clerical families. By 1855, there were already 22 such schools. The model for these was the Tsarskoye Selo School, founded in 1843, served as a model; Empress Alexandra Feodorovna, the wife of Nicholas I, became its patroness. The school was funded by the Spiritual Education Department of the Holy Synod. Schools of the same type were soon opened in Soligalich (in 1845; in 1848 it was moved to Yaroslavl), in Kazan (1853), and in Irkutsk (1854). Their curriculum was modest: the Word of God (catechism and basic knowledge of biblical history), reading and writing, grammar, and church singing [1447] .

Upon admission to the academy, students were required to pledge that, upon graduation, they would not leave the clergy—that is, they would become priests or teachers at theological schools. In most cases, the latter profession was preferred, since the life of a priest did not seem particularly appealing. But even here there were difficulties: diocesan bishops, some more gently, others more forcefully, tended to pressure teachers at seminaries and county schools to accept ordination. A way out of this situation was suggested by canon law, according to which marriage to a widow was an obstacle to ordination. As a result, marriages to widows became so widespread that in 1834 the Holy Synod issued a decree prohibiting diocesan bishops from granting permission for such marriages to anyone who had committed to a clerical career, delegating this authority to the Commission on Ecclesiastical Schools. By the late 1840s and early 1850s, it became apparent that the number of seminary graduates had come to significantly exceed the number of priestly vacancies. At that time, Archbishop Innokenty Borisov of Kherson, one of the most educated hierarchs of his time, as a member of the Holy Synod, submitted a proposal to the Synod to prohibit the admission of the sons of clergymen to seminaries. This idea provoked protests from a number of bishops within the Synod. Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov presented his dissenting opinion to the Holy Synod, in which he pointed out that many outstanding hierarchs had emerged from the ranks of church ministers, such as Platon Levshin, Seraphim Glagolevsky, Innokenty Smirnov, and others. In the metropolitan’s view, the proposed measure could “reduce by half the number of clergy qualified for the highest offices.” In 1849, the number of graduates without positions rose to 7,448, so at the suggestion of St. Petersburg Metropolitan Nikanor Klementyevsky (1848–1856), a special commission was tasked with addressing this issue. Ultimately, the Holy Synod permitted withdrawal from the clerical estate, exempted clergy from the obligation to send their sons to clerical educational institutions—allowing for the home education of their children—and introduced a numerus clausus [a limit on the number of admissions (Latin)][1448] in elementary and secondary schools.

c) As can be seen from Alexander I’s decree of August 30, 1814, cited above, the reforms of 1808–1814 were based on mystical views prevalent at that time at court and in society; such sentiments were also characteristic of the authors of the statutes, for example, M. M. Speransky and Archbishop Theophylact Rusanov; the first rector of the post-reform St. Petersburg Academy (later Metropolitan of Moscow), Archimandrite Filaret Drozdov, was also close to the mystical movement at that time. However, there were also serious opponents of these trends, including, among others, Metropolitan Seraphim of St. Petersburg and Metropolitan Eugene of Kyiv. This opposing current began to gain the upper hand as the emperor’s interest in mysticism waned and the wave of mysticism in society began to subside. Prince Golitsyn was replaced as “spiritual minister” by Admiral Shishkov, the Minister of Public Education (§ 9). As is always the case, the reaction began with small matters. Thus, Metropolitans Seraphim and Eugene resolved to abolish academic degrees at the academies. Admittedly, these plans were not successful due to the vigorous resistance of Archimandrite Grigory Postnikov, rector of the St. Petersburg Academy; however, the awarding of master’s degrees in theology to sixth-year graduates of the St. Petersburg Academy and second-year graduates of the Kiev Academy was delayed for two years [1449] . Among the hierarchs who, at least outwardly, renounced their mystical “delusions of youth” was, among others, the then Metropolitan of Moscow, Filaret Drozdov, who from that point on kept secret his love for the “beautiful plant” cultivated by the Commission on Theological Schools.

The era of Nicholas I (1825–1855) also bore the distinct imprint of the monarch’s personality, which was quite unlike that of his brother Alexander in his younger years. Nicholas I’s views on the goals of education were determined by practical considerations of the state’s interest. He sought to instill military order, discipline, and uniformity in all areas of governance and in the life of the people as a whole. This meant that the sole purpose of the school was to impart to students the knowledge necessary for them to subsequently fulfill their official duties. The seminary was intended to instill a uniform, formulaic mindset in future priests, for, apart from the teachings of the Church and canonical rules, no other points of view or independent opinions were permitted in matters of faith [1450] . Already during his coronation in 1825, the emperor announced to the hierarchs present his desire that a textbook on the law of God be written, according to which instruction could be provided equally in all schools, first and foremost in military educational institutions, and that a Catechism be published with a clear and precise exposition of the teachings of the Orthodox Church on all matters of faith and morality. The following year, Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow presented his “Fundamentals of Orthodox Teaching” to the Holy Synod. On December 6, 1829, the Holy Synod received a personal decree instructing it to discuss legislative measures to improve spiritual education. This decree alone attests to the emperor’s fundamental rejection of the reforms of 1808–1814; however, a radical reform of his own would not have been in keeping with the character of Nicholas I [1451] . He implemented changes gradually, expressing his position on one specific issue after another. While the first two Chief Prosecutors during Nicholas I’s reign failed to understand these distinctive traits in the emperor’s character and views, the third, Count Protasov (1836–1855)—a general who had been trained in Nicholas’s school of military discipline and uniformity—was precisely the man who fully corresponded to the sovereign’s aspirations. In the Commission on Theological Schools, which operated largely independently of the Holy Synod—and thus of the Chief Prosecutor as well—Protasov rightly saw a bastion of the “spirit of the Alexander reforms” and therefore decided to abolish it. The Commission showed no inclination to revise the school charters, as Protasov demanded, expressing only a willingness to establish a special commission to discuss the issue of existing and forthcoming textbooks. After that, Protasov sought the emperor’s consent to “reform” the theological schools by amending their charters or even replacing them with new ones, but without the commission’s involvement.

Protasov began by sending a circular to all the rectors of academies and seminaries, instructing them “to freely explain how they understand theology and what improvements they would suggest making to it.” Protasov particularly approved of the ideas put forward by Archimandrite Nikodim Kazantsev, rector of the Vyatka Seminary, who was summoned to St. Petersburg in 1838 [1452] . However, Protasov’s choice of his closest assistant turned out to be less than ideal. Archimandrite Nikodim, a highly capable and knowledgeable man, attached great importance to maintaining good relations with Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow, who viewed Protasov’s plans with more than a touch of reserve. Nikodim recorded his conversation with Protasov from memory with protocol-level precision, and these notes paint a vivid picture of the Chief Prosecutor and his royal patron. Protasov launched into a thunderous tirade against the clergy and the teachers at theological institutions. In his view, the existing educational system did not correspond either to the state’s goals regarding public education or to the Church’s obligations toward the state. “You studied not so much for yourselves as for us,” Protasov said. “You are our teachers in the faith. But we do not understand you. Your theology is very lofty. Your sermons are lofty… You do not speak the language of the people. You shun church life. You are unfamiliar with practical worship. You consider it beneath you to know and study it, and therefore you make a mockery of it when you take up a sacred office. You can neither sing nor read, and you do not know the church regulations. You are guided by sextons, and well-read petty-bourgeois mock you.” Protasov then moved on to criticize the state of education. “There are no specializations in your schools. You want to be—and be regarded as—universal scholars. That is a mistake. In our system, every cadet knows how to march and handle a rifle; a sailor can name the very last nail on a ship, knows its location and strength; an engineer can account for every kind of crowbar, shovel, hook, and rope. But you, men of the clergy,” continued the hussar general, “do not know your own spiritual matters! You’ve invented some new language for yourselves, just like doctors, mathematicians, and sailors. Without an explanation, no one can understand you. That’s not good either. Speak to us in a language we can understand; teach God’s law in such a way that even the humblest peasant can understand you the very first time!” “Think carefully and tell me, what needs to be changed in the seminaries?” the Chief Prosecutor asked his interlocutor. “How can we simplify the existing disciplines? Should we introduce new ones, and if so, which ones? Should we cut back on some disciplines, or eliminate others entirely? Remember: a seminary is not an academy. Professors come from universities: they need to know a great deal. Those who graduate from seminaries become priests in the villages. They need to understand rural life and be able to be of service to the peasant even in his everyday affairs… What use is such extensive theology to a rural priest? What use is philosophy to him—that science of free-thinking, nonsense, selfishness, and boasting?.. Let them rather thoroughly reinforce the catechism, church regulations, and liturgical chanting. And that is enough!” The closing words of the “orator”—as Nicodemus calls him—thoroughly frightened the archimandrite; as is evident from his notes. “You don’t know,” Protasov declared, “that when I reminded the sovereign that philosophy is taught in theological seminaries, the sovereign exclaimed in anger and bewilderment: ‘What? Do the clergy have philosophy—that ungodly, blasphemous, rebellious science? Banish it!’” The archimandrite reported everything to Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow, who was in St. Petersburg at the time; the metropolitan, at a loss for words from astonishment, could only repeat: “Where are they headed? What do they want?” All of Archimandrite Nikodim’s efforts to draft a new charter for the seminaries at the behest of the Chief Prosecutor were unsuccessful [1453] .

Protasov intended to simplify the educational process by limiting the role of scholarship within it. Since he could not count on the support of the spiritual hierarchy—that is, the scholarly monastic community—in carrying out his plans, he decided to act independently. A period of “chaos” began, as Archimandrite Nicodemus branded it. On March 1, 1839, the Charter of the Spiritual and Educational Administration of the Holy Synod was published. It stated: “Recognizing the necessity of a close connection between the administration of the Orthodox Church and the education of young men being prepared for sacred ministry therein, we have deemed it appropriate to concentrate within the Holy Synod—as the sole supreme spiritual governing body of Our Empire—the highest authority over spiritual and educational matters, which until now had been entrusted to a special Commission for Spiritual Schools, and to entrust to the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod the supervision of the universal enforcement of existing laws in this regard.”[1454] . The oversight established by this imperial decree de facto turned into the Chief Prosecutor’s unlimited dominion over the theological school, which continued—with a slight weakening in 1867–1884—until the very end of the Synodal period.

Priest M. Moroshkin, the first person to gain access to the archives of the Holy Synod, characterized Protasov’s “reforms” as follows: “Having only a superficial understanding of the essence and nature of ecclesiastical affairs, especially theological education, Protasov paid more attention to outward splendor and form and cared little for inner substance”[1455] . A. I. Karasevsky, one of the leading officials of the Commission on Theological Schools—“a kind, tactful, and unpretentious man”—was appointed head of the Spiritual Education Department. He was blindly loyal to Protasov, carrying out all his orders precisely, and was able to anticipate the Chief Prosecutor’s wishes with just a single hint [1456] .

Even before the decree of 1839, Protasov had begun to “restore order” at the St. Petersburg Academy and Seminary. Notes on this subject have been preserved by an eyewitness, Academy professor (1833–1852) D. S. Rostislavov, whose works—primarily on religious education and the parish clergy in the 1830s–1860s—are, admittedly, not without a certain degree of bias [1457] : Rostislavov shared the dissatisfaction of many of his colleagues—who also did not belong to the scholarly monastic order—with the dominance of monks in the theological school, and he was inclined to see in the Ober-Prokuratura a certain “liberating” element that served as a safeguard against the authority of bishops and rectors. This makes his description of the stultifying “militarization” of the St. Petersburg Academy and the diocesan seminaries—where special inspectors were sent, and where, for example, students were required to march in formation to church—all the more compelling. But there were also positive aspects, among which Rostislavov cites improved nutrition, cleanliness in the dormitories, the provision of clothing that was uniform but decent, and practical furnishings in the workrooms—all of which were Protasov’s initiative. The state in which Protasov found the St. Petersburg Academy was indeed bleak in many respects: the students’ dormitories were overcrowded, kept in disarray, and served simultaneously as study rooms where they prepared for lectures. Protasov insisted on the creation of special sleeping quarters where, as in cadet corps, students were permitted to stay only at night. While the St. Petersburg Academy complied with the new rules, the Metropolitan of Moscow resolutely refused to implement them. Consequently, the Moscow Academy was able to adopt these improvements only later. In general, according to one student from the 1840s, the rules here were “patriarchal and liberal,” and it was not until the early 1850s that Rector Alexei Rzhanytsyn (1847–1853), who sought to improve students’ living conditions, introduced a stricter regimen. As for Metropolitan Filaret, he acknowledged the disorder at the academy only toward the end of the 1850s, when he stated that, due to overcrowding, students were forced to do their assignments as if they were at a marketplace [1458] .

In provincial theological schools, the situation was, of course, much worse than in both capitals. Comparing memoirs from the early 1820s and the 1850s, it is easy to see how little had changed during that time—both in the students’ living conditions and in the educational system itself [1459] .

In 1840, the “New Rules” for teaching in seminaries, approved by Nicholas, were published; they were an exact copy of Protasov’s conversation with Archimandrite Nicodemus. The Chief Prosecutor’s 1840 annual report to the emperor notes that, according to these rules, among the core disciplines of the seminary curriculum, pastoral theology and homiletics are the most important for a rural priest. General education subjects were reduced, and philosophy was limited to logic and psychology; however, new subjects “useful for communal life” were included, such as the basics of medicine, peasant farming, and natural science; beginning in 1843, some seminaries also began teaching icon painting [1460] . In all theological schools, the course of study was designed to last six years. In addition, to avoid overcrowding in the lower class of seminaries (the “rhetoricians” class) with students training to become psalm readers, an additional class was organized for the latter.

The surplus of students in theological educational institutions forced the Holy Synod in 1850 to abolish the requirement that the sons of the clergy attend theological schools, thereby granting them access to secular schools. Even earlier, in 1842, the emperor permitted seminary graduates to enter government service, lifting the existing restriction under which graduates who did not belong to the clergy could only hope for a position in the “Department of the Orthodox Faith” (as consistory officials or seminary teachers).

In 1836, it was decided to increase the extremely small staffs and salaries, especially in seminaries and theological schools. The state treasury allocated an additional 468,225 rubles for these purposes, which made it possible in subsequent years, under Chief Prosecutor Protasov, to strengthen the staffing levels of individual seminaries by adapting to local conditions [1461] .

d) The goal of the 1808–1814 reform was to raise the general educational level in theological institutions and, at the same time, to develop a distinctively Russian theological scholarship. Count Protasov was, in a sense, correct when, in a conversation with Archimandrite Nicodemus, he asserted that the curricula and statutes of the Commission on Ecclesiastical Schools failed to adequately account for the fact that the majority of graduates from theological schools were destined to become parish priests. An optimistic faith in the value of abstract scholarship prevented idealistic reformers such as Evgeny Bolkhovitinov, Speransky, Theophylact Rusanov, or the young rector of the post-reform St. Petersburg Academy, Filaret Drozdov, from addressing such a concrete practical task. The demands placed on teachers and students rose sharply. Through theological schools and seminaries—linked together as stages of a unified system—only a small number of select, top students made it into the academies. However, reform in the seminaries and, to an even greater extent, in the academies was slowed by a shortage of students. At the Moscow Academy, the reform was completed in 1814; at the Kiev Academy, in 1819; and at the Kazan Academy, in 1842. Subsequent developments preserved only fragments of the system envisioned by the idealists. For many, 6–8 years of study were insufficient, and they, just as in the previous century, remained in school much longer or left it to become deacons and psalm-readers [1462] . Rote learning and meaningless memorization had already become the norm in theological schools and were the result of a teaching method that did not allow students the slightest deviation from the teacher’s definitions and interpretations. A good student was expected to do nothing more than mindlessly repeat what the teacher had said. The consequences of this method were even more tragic in seminaries than in lower-level schools. A teacher who taught his subject in a freer manner was soon suspected of insufficient mastery of the material or of freethinking. From Protasov’s remarks in a conversation with Archimandrite Nicodemus, one can conclude that this kind of pedagogy was entirely in line with the views of the highest authorities. In any case, the problem did not lie in the incompetence of the teachers or students. It is precisely from this perspective that one should view the students’ often highly critical reviews of their teachers. “The professors were mediocre,” wrote a former seminarian from the 1940s, “devoting themselves exclusively to reading lessons from notes prepared in advance.” At that time, no lectures were given in seminaries; instead, school lessons were assigned and recited. Only a few eccentrics taught well, but even they essentially provided only explanations of what was stated in the textbooks or their lecture notes [1463] . The conduct of the latter, even in the opinion of Metropolitan Filaret, contradicted the Seminary Charter. Such an attitude on the part of the administration toward teaching methods could not inspire teachers to engage in lively interaction with their students; moreover, as one contemporary observed, it fostered apathy toward the sciences and even toward life itself [1464] . At the same time, it should not be forgotten that, nevertheless, many scholars who made significant contributions to science in the second half of the 19th century acquired the foundations of their knowledge (especially theological knowledge) precisely in the seminaries following the reforms of 1808–1814.[1465]

Prior to the reform, theology, philosophy, and certain other disciplines were taught, as is well known, in Latin, which also served as the language of daily communication. In the late 1830s, Latin was placed on the same footing as other subjects, and instruction switched to Russian. Under the 1840 Charter, Latin was allotted only three lessons per week in the first year and two per week in the second year of the two-year course at seminaries. In the academies, only the reading of difficult Latin and Greek authors remained, while grammar was considered to have already been mastered. Although Latin had lost its former role as a language of communication, it was still considered very important. For example, in 1852, Archbishop Innokenty Borisov complained that seminaries were wasting too much time, effort, and talent on the excessive study of Latin and Greek [1466] . After the reform of 1840, the seminary curriculum remained very extensive; a significant portion of it was devoted to general secular subjects. The first two-year course included: 1) logic and psychology, 2) Russian literature, 3) general secular history, 4) algebra, 5) geometry in connection with topography, 6) physics, 7) natural history, 8) folk medicine, 9) required languages: Latin and Greek, 10) elective languages: Ancient Hebrew, French, and German. The curriculum for the two-year course in philosophy and theology included: 1) dogmatics, 2) moral theology, 3) non-Orthodox denominations, 4) ecclesiastical rhetoric (homiletics), 5) biblical and church history, 6) biblical studies, 7) patristics, 8) liturgics, 9) hermeneutics, 10) canon law, and 11) history of the Russian Church.

Teaching all these subjects required a sizeable faculty, which, following the reforms of 1808–1814, consisted almost exclusively of graduates of theological academies. The faculty was divided into two categories, whose status differed fundamentally: scholarly monks and lay teachers; a small number of white priests also belonged to the second category by virtue of their position. Compared to their colleagues, learned monks enjoyed considerably greater privileges [1467] . The salaries of lay teachers in theological schools and seminaries were meager and barely increased even after the 1808–1814 reform. Only in rare cases did they have the prospect, at the end of their teaching careers, of obtaining a position as inspector of a theological school or rising to the nearly unattainable position of seminary inspector. As a rule, however, the positions of rectors and inspectors in lower- and middle-level theological schools were granted to “academics” from among the scholarly monastic community. These young men, aged 28–30, clad in monastic robes but who had never lived in a monastery and had no teaching experience, found themselves in positions of authority over lay teachers with many years of teaching experience. In the event of any conflicts, the scholarly monks could always count on the support of the diocesan bishop or the Holy Synod. In his numerous remarks about the scholarly monastic community that taught at academies and seminaries, Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich—who himself came from that milieu—paints a rather unflattering picture (see § 12). Young careerists took monastic vows while still students. Upon graduating from the academy, they received positions based on their academic records: those with better grades could immediately become seminary inspectors, while others began their teaching careers as instructors at theological schools or seminaries. As a rule, every two or three years they were transferred to a new post, with promotion to inspector and then to rector. But even after becoming a rector, a learned monk rarely remained in one place. The biographies of the bishops show that they had to serve as rectors in turn at three or four seminaries, spending several years at each. Frequent changes in the subject they taught made it impossible to prepare a lecture course of any depth; for this reason alone, the instructor was simply forced to stick strictly to the existing textbooks. In addition to lecturing on dogmatics and managing the educational institution, the rector also bore other administrative responsibilities. For example, rectors holding the rank of archimandrite were often called upon to serve on ecclesiastical consistories as “observers”; their task was to defend the interests of the monastic community before members of the consistories who belonged to the parish clergy [1468] .

The architects of the 1808–1814 reform believed that the academies would be better able to fulfill their primary mission—to train teachers alongside conducting scholarly work in theology—if the curriculum were uniform and authorized. The related requirement that academy instructors not deliver their own lectures but scrupulously adhere to specific textbooks was strictly enforced from the early 1820s onward, when—to use a comparison by Bishop Filaret Amfiteatrov, who was still a liberal at the time— the “parching wind” of reaction was barely perceptible. But by the time Protasov took over and reaction had fully triumphed, any scientifically grounded criticism in the teaching process was banned, and theological literature was subjected to merciless censorship. The slightest deviation from traditional norms was considered a crime. Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich recounts how, at the beginning of his teaching career at the St. Petersburg Academy in the mid-1850s, the academy’s rector, Makarii Bulgakov, severely reprimanded him for touching upon “sensitive issues” in his lectures—such was the “method of academic teaching” at the time. “I… was treated as a mere trifle,” Archbishop Nikanor remarks in conclusion [1469] . The Moscow Academy was caught up in the reactionary wave just as teaching there, having moved beyond scholasticism, was on the rise. Students listened with extraordinary interest to the lectures on dogmatics given by the academy’s rector, Archimandrite Filaret Amfiteatrov, between 1816 and 1819. Professor of Philosophy V. I. Kutnevich taught his subject with “his own commentaries.” Archimandrite Kirill Bogoslovsky-Platonov taught dogmatics from 1819 to 1824, using a textbook only sparingly and relying instead on the latest Western European literature. His successor, Rector Archimandrite Polikarp Gaitannikov (1824–1835), who adhered to the same methods, encountered resistance from Metropolitan Filaret and, following a conflict with him, was forced to resign from his post. Archimandrite Filaret Gumilevsky, having also rejected the textbook, preferred to base his lectures on dogmatics on contemporary Catholic and Protestant theological literature [1470] . Archpriest A. V. Gorsky (1812–1876), who took a course in dogmatics from Archimandrite Filaret in 1864, did not deviate from his predecessor’s approach.

Gorsky’s name is inextricably linked to the history of the Moscow Theological Academy. It owes its golden age and its preeminent position among the empire’s other academies—a position it retained until the very end of the Synodal period—to him. A hundred years after the reform, the academy wrote of Gorsky: “Undoubtedly, Alexander Vasilyevich Gorsky is of the utmost importance to the Moscow Theological Academy, ranking first in the academy’s entire hundred-year history. It is no exaggeration to say that everything that is best and most enlightened in the academy stems from Gorsky, and the academy will not permanently lose its theological and scholarly strength until the spirit of Gorsky has completely faded from it”[1471] . Gorsky’s life was full of originality, a trait so characteristic of the biographies of many leading figures in Russian culture [1472] . He was born on August 12, 1812, in Kostroma to the family of a seminary teacher and studied at the seminary in his hometown. During an inspection in 1828, his knowledge made such an impression on Hieromonk Afanasy Drozdov, who was auditing the seminary, that the latter took him with him to Moscow. Without having completed the seminary’s theology class, the 16-year-old Gorsky was admitted to the academy, which he completed in four years. Immediately afterward, along with his bachelor’s degree (1833), he was appointed assistant professor of ecclesiastical and secular history there. From the following year on, Gorsky taught only Church history, and in 1839 he became a full professor of that discipline. His predecessors in the department were rather eccentric: Hieromonk Platon was in the habit of entertaining his students by reading works by Gillon and Jung-Stilling; Professor F. A. Ternovsky-Platonov’s lectures were so poor that he was removed from teaching duties, leaving him only the course in secular history. From 1830 to 1833, Church History was taught by Filaret Gumilevsky, who had himself just graduated from the academy. Gorsky held the chair of Church History for 30 consecutive years, until 1864. In 1860, Metropolitan Filaret wished to appoint him rector of the academy, in connection with which he wrote the following about him: “In addition to his undoubted general merits, he possesses such knowledge of church history and antiquities that he has joined the ranks of renowned scholars”[1473] . And numerous memoirs of his contemporaries show how highly the Metropolitan—who was otherwise quite prone to criticism—regarded Gorsky, and how often he consulted with him on matters concerning the academy [1474] . Eager to hand over the rectorship to Gorsky, Metropolitan Filaret tried in vain to persuade the young professor to take monastic vows, while Gorsky insisted on being ordained to the priesthood—a practice not customary for unmarried men. After serious hesitation, the metropolitan finally yielded to Gorsky’s wishes in 1860, promoting him to archpriest that very same year. In the metropolitan’s view, Gorsky’s status as a member of the white clergy now served as an obstacle to his assuming the post of rector of the academy. “I hear,” Filaret wrote to Chief Prosecutor Count A. P. Tolstoy, “that some wish for Archpriest Gorsky to be the rector of the academy. I, too, desire this, and for this reason I suggested that he take monastic vows. But he remained firm in his long-held resolve. If it is desired that he be rector, then let me be entrusted with earnestly proposing to him that he enter monastic life. For if he is an archpriest serving as rector and has an archimandrite serving as inspector under him, this will mark the beginning—though still barely noticeable—of a trend that will set a precedent for the future, —a step toward the ecclesiastical upheaval desired by some, aimed at placing the lay clergy above the monastic clergy, contrary to the ancient and established rule, and entrusting administration to archpriests and their spouses, while leaving bishops only with the authority to ordain, without any consideration of the worthiness of those being ordained. From such governance, one can expect neither unity, nor firmness, nor purity. May the pillars of the House of God not be shaken”[1475] . Metropolitan Filaret defends here a viewpoint typical of defenders of scholarly monasticism, which, incidentally, was shared by almost all hierarchs right up to the last supporter of monastic hegemony—Metropolitan Anthony Khrapovitsky, who died in 1936. However, yielding to the new trends of the 1860s, Metropolitan Filaret was finally forced to give in. In 1864, Gorsky was appointed rector of the academy and remained in that position until his death on November 11, 1875. His tenure as rector coincided with a radical restructuring of theological education, culminating in the reform of 1867–1868, which was perhaps even more significant than the reform of 1808–1814. Gorsky took a direct part in its preparation and implementation. But even earlier, under his leadership, a group of teachers and scholars was being trained who were later destined to become leading figures in Russia’s post-reform theological schools.

As a professor at the academy, Gorsky first and foremost raised the courses he taught (from 1833 to 1864, “General and Russian Church History”; from 1862 to 1875, “Dogmatic Theology”) to the scholarly level befitting a higher educational institution. Thanks to his good relationship with Metropolitan Filaret—who tolerated his teaching methods because there was no need to fear heresy from Gorsky—he was able to go beyond the boundaries set by the Spiritual and Educational Administration. Gorsky was one of those higher education instructors who commanded the audience’s attention and knew how to captivate his listeners; at the same time, he was an outstanding mentor who exerted a tremendous moral influence on the student body. Archbishop Alexy Lavrov-Platonov, one of Gorsky’s students who went on to become a professor of canon law at the academy, paints the following portrait of his famous teacher: “He taught us in three ways: first, to all of us in general from the lectern, captivating us with his profound research, historical accounts, and brilliant characterizations of the Church Fathers and teachers (to this day I cannot forget his characterization of Origen); then he taught all of us again from another of his ‘lecterns’—in the library. These lectures were also most precious to us, through which he introduced us to a full mastery of the subject’s literature. But there were also his lectures—lectiones privatissimae [strictly private lectures (Latin)]—held at home. He would sometimes summon us to these lectures one by one, either to discuss our essays that he had read or to share his own thoughts on a given topic”[1476] . Gorsky’s lectures on Church history were particularly substantive. In addition to a historical and practical presentation of the material, he provided a critical analysis of the sources, which he also quoted at length to shed the clearest possible light on the subject. Professor P. S. Kazansky, who attended Gorsky’s lectures when he was just beginning his teaching career, describes it this way: “His lectures are marked by greater liveliness than his published works, in which he excludes any emotional outburst and leaves only bare facts and dry reasoning… In our time, transcripts of his lectures were passed from hand to hand and were widely circulated throughout Russia. One can only appreciate the merit of these lectures after thoroughly studying the subject… If one relies on someone else’s work, it is based on the conviction that it accurately conveys the original sources… For us, and for almost everyone, it serves, as it were, as a reference lexicon”[1477] . The breadth and depth of his knowledge were truly astonishing, and therefore his influence extended to all branches of Russian theology. His school produced not only historians such as A. P. Lebedev and E. E. Golubinsky, but also outstanding specialists in patristics, dogmatics, canon law, and so on. Gorsky’s favorite subject was the history of the Russian Church. He conducted extensive research in this field, discovering and studying many documents. And if he published his works sparingly and reluctantly, it was solely due to his modesty. He was particularly interested in the era of the patriarchate. Unfortunately, only drafts have survived, but the margins of these manuscripts are filled with invaluable notes, many of which give even the modern historian pause for thought. One can surmise that E. E. Golubinsky owed many of his scholarly achievements to Gorsky’s aforementioned *lectiones privatissimae*, from whom he also inherited a penchant for the critical reading of sources. “This ascetic professor, this lay monk, who combined a life of asceticism with sociable humanity and a willingness to serve everyone with his knowledge and labor—this was an extraordinary phenomenon. It is unlikely to be repeated,” wrote N. P. Gilyarov-Platonov about Gorsky [1478] .

An important consequence of Gorsky’s academic work was the improvement in the quality of teaching at the numerous seminaries throughout Russia where his students went on to serve. It should also be noted that Metropolitan Filaret played a part in the flourishing of the Moscow Academy during the era of reactionary attacks; in his role as trustee—and at times as a rather strict guardian—he shielded it from repeated attempts at interference by the authorities.

The philosophy faculty played a significant role in the life of the academy during the period from 1814 to 1867, though it was not favored by the higher authorities, who viewed it with suspicion. The foundations of its authority were undoubtedly laid by V. I. Kutnevich, the first professor of the Department of Philosophy at the Moscow Academy. As is evident from the material compiled by the Academy’s historian S. K. Smirnov, he was a distinguished scholar and devotee of contemporary German philosophy who knew how to spark a keen interest in his subject among students, even though his lectures were delivered in Latin. Kutnevich taught at the academy from 1815 to 1824 [1479] His successor, Archpriest F. A. Golubinsky (1797–1854), like Gorsky, was a native of Kostroma. The son of a psalm reader who later became a priest in Kostroma, Golubinsky entered the seminary in 1806, and in the year he graduated, he served as an “informator,” that is, an assistant to the Greek language teacher. The following year, he became a student at the newly reformed Moscow Theological Academy, from which he graduated in 1818 with a master’s degree; thereafter, on Kutnevich’s recommendation, he was appointed as a bachelor in the Department of Philosophy, and from 1820 onward he also taught German. In 1822, Golubinsky became an associate professor of philosophy, and in 1824, a full professor, a position he held at the academy for 30 years, until his death. In 1828, he was ordained a priest, and the following year he became an archpriest [1480] . While still a student, Golubinsky, together with several friends, organized—with the inspector’s permission—the “Society for Scientific Discussions,” which differed from later university seminars essentially only in the absence of a faculty leader. An unfinished report by Golubinsky on the society’s meetings during the first three months of its existence (March–June 1816) has survived—an interesting testament to the scholarly interests of the academic youth of that time. Regarding the motives for founding this society, Golubinsky wrote the following: “Often during their leisure hours, they (students. — Ed.) liked to speak with friendly freedom and candor about what each of them thought regarding their fields of study; sometimes they read their own writings to one another and discussed them”[1481] .

During his years as a professor, Golubinsky was held in high esteem at the academy—as a scholar, as a teacher, and as a person. According to one of his students, “Fyodor Alexandrovich was the head of the instructors, the pillar of the academy, and the patriarch of philosophers… He delivered his lectures simply and clearly, not so much with enthusiasm as with deep concentration, as if reasoning with himself. He knew the depths of knowledge, but he did not seek to show off and did not captivate his young listeners; more intelligent and knowledgeable people would have listened to him with greater attention. He was particularly fond of elaborating on ancient philosophy, on the Indians and the Chinese, on Plato… It should also be noted that he was very cautious in his choice of words; he was afraid to tell us much about the new German systems, even though he knew them very thoroughly. True, he read to us about Hegel, but he did not give us a complete understanding of him, because he read only Hegel’s *Logic*… He knew ancient classical literature, modern German and French literature, ancient and modern philosophy, and many of the Church Fathers perfectly; he had studied the Holy Scriptures in depth; but he did not express his own knowledge; he expressed his own opinions hesitantly, cautiously, and, as it were, insincerely; but he knew all the opinions of others thoroughly—those of scholars, of course”[1482] . Golubinsky, like many of his contemporaries, was very interested in German philosophy and Protestant theology. When, at the beginning of his teaching career, he taught German, he had his students translate Arndt’s writings, supplementing them with his own religious and philosophical commentary. Baron Haxthausen, a German Catholic, was greatly impressed after a conversation with Golubinsky by his knowledge of German philosophy, and above all, his familiarity with Hegel and Schelling [1483] .

In 1852, the introductory course in philosophy was taken over by V. D. Kudryavtsev-Platonov (1828–1891), who in 1854 also took over all of Golubinsky’s other courses. His lectures were less eclectic than those of his predecessor and teacher. The fruits of his labor became apparent only after the academy’s reform and the introduction of a new charter, in the drafting of which he participated.

Another pillar of the academy was the professor of mathematics, Archpriest P. S. Delitsyn, one of the founders of the “Society for Scientific Discussions.” His activities were quite diverse. He began as a French language instructor, working with students on translations of Bossuet. His greatest contribution to the Academy was his translations of the works of the Church Fathers, which the Academy began publishing in 1843. Over the course of 20 years, Delitsyn translated nearly all 42 planned volumes, and anyone who picks up this edition (in which, incidentally, the translator’s name is not listed) is delighted by the accuracy of the translation and the clarity of the language, which also takes into account the stylistic characteristics of each author. In addition, Delitsyn worked for many years in the ecclesiastical censorship office [1484] .

A graduate of the St. Petersburg Academy, E. V. Amfiteatrov (1815–1889), who served for many years (beginning in 1839) as a professor of aesthetics and literature, was renowned as an experienced educator and talented lecturer. He enjoyed high moral authority among the student body. According to one of his students, he possessed the remarkable ability to make everything he encountered in the rich body of foreign literature his own, so that the stories about events and figures from the world of art and literature—which he drew from French and German authors—seemed like his own creations. Amfiteatrov’s lectures, wrote another, were masterfully structured, precise, and not particularly verbose. Their content aroused great interest in us. Amfiteatrov approached the history of literature from an aesthetic perspective , citing numerous passages from the works of outstanding writers. Even as a seminary teacher, he spoke with particular enthusiasm about Homer, Dante, Milton, and other great poets; now, however, he was introducing his students to the world of contemporary Russian literature, reading to them works by Pushkin, Zhukovsky, and Gogol’s recently published *Dead Souls*, while Russian literature courses at Moscow University did not go beyond the 18th century.[1485]

The fate of another prominent scholar, Professor N. P. Gilyarov-Platonov (1824–1887), was more complicated. He began his academic career in 1848, when the Protasov era had reached its zenith. Gilyarov-Platonov taught hermeneutics, non-Orthodox confessions, and the history of heresies and schisms in the Church; however, at the behest of Metropolitan Filaret, he was forced to cease lecturing on schisms due to his “liberal” criticism of the Orthodox Church’s position. As a result of a memorandum he submitted calling for religious tolerance toward the Old Believers, he was dismissed from the academy in 1854. From 1856 to 1863, this highly educated man with an independent spirit served as a censor in Moscow. “The breadth of his views and his bold line of thought—disciplined by his theological training—meant that many periodicals and literary works of the time were preserved and published only thanks to the courage of the censor, who was, in essence, well-intentioned, though not always in agreement with the specific requirements of the highest censorship authorities”[1486] .

Archimandrite Fyodor Bukharev (1824–1871), one of the most gifted and fascinating figures among those educated at the theological seminary, began his ill-fated career at the Moscow Academy. He was a tragic figure among the scholarly monastic community, whose dark sides Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich spoke of with such bitterness. Bukharev first studied at the Tver Seminary, where he drew attention for his abilities, and then at the Moscow Academy. Hoping to devote himself entirely to theological studies, he took monastic vows at the age of 20–21, since, as he himself later admitted, he was frail and deeply introspective. Upon graduating from the Academy, he began teaching the Old Testament as a bachelor of arts and in 1846 became an associate professor in that discipline. However, Feodor was not cut out for the role of lecturer, for he could not stay within the confines of the course material without giving free rein to his personal interest in various topics. To his students, he came across more as a talented preacher of his own ideas. For Bukharev himself, lecturing was a secondary pursuit: he devoted himself entirely to working on a commentary on the Book of Revelation, which, upon completion, was submitted to Metropolitan Filaret for review. The views developed in Bukharev’s commentary alarmed the metropolitan; he attended one of the exams administered by the archimandrite, and the impression he gained there—both from the students’ answers and from Bukharev’s explanations—was so unfavorable that Filaret insisted on his transfer to the Department of Dogmatics at the Kazan Academy (1855). Shortly before Archimandrite Bukharev’s death, his colleague, Professor Kazansky, wrote the following about him: “There was a correspondence between A. M. Bukharev and Metropolitan Filaret regarding the Apocalypse. I read it and could not help but acknowledge that Bukharev was more correct than the metropolitan… Alexander Mikhailovich Bukharev was a passionate but muddled thinker. I regard his attempt to explain the Apocalypse as a sign of madness… The love of Christ, which reconciles everyone and everything—this is the central theme of Bukharev’s books and articles. He himself lives in an ideal world, always hoping that his ideas will awaken humanity to a better life… Indeed, I have heard opinions among the monastic community that, after Holy Scripture, Father Theodore’s writings are second to none… When he served as a professor at our institution, the chaplain fleeced him to such an extent that not only did he leave him penniless, but he also sold his books. And Father Theodore saw in all this almost the work of the Holy Spirit, guiding the thief’s hands”[1487] . According to Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov—who, as a conservative, by no means shared Bukharev’s theological views—he was a man “with lively faculties and a passionate heart”[1488] . Fyodor Bukharev, his biographer concludes, was an exceptional figure in the history of the Russian Church. “Bukharev’s theology should not be studied in isolation—as, for example, exegetical, dogmatic, moral, or polemical theology. It is a unified whole because it is a living theology; its distinctive feature lies not in logical schemes—which are entirely consistent with the general structures of Orthodox theology—but in the author’s unique spiritual disposition, which is evident in all his judgments on theological matters”[1489] .

These characteristics determined his fate as a man and a writer who allowed himself to make judgments that might be excusable for a secular theologian, but certainly not for a learned monk. Archimandrite Theodore responded to the extremely malicious, slanderous criticism, incidentally, with such truly Christian humility that other members of the scholarly monastic community had every reason to be ashamed. According to G. Florovsky, Bukharev is a victim of the conflict between two trends typical of the 1960s—“the clash between inertia and dreaminess”—a conflict that determined the fates of so many of his contemporaries [1490] . In this context, his transfer to Kazan appears in a new light, especially since Bukharev’s distinctive literary style had already caused concern for Metropolitan Filaret as early as 1848, when Bukharev presented him with the manuscript of his “Three Letters to Gogol,” written after the publication of Gogol’s “Correspondence with Friends” . In Kazan, Bukharev won the favor of the students and the entire educated community, who appreciated his sermons. His evening gatherings were popular; in this “oasis,” people sought explanations for the numerous problems that weighed heavily on them in the 1850s but could not be freely discussed in public under the stifling atmosphere of the Nicholas I regime. Admittedly, Bukharev’s abstract-theoretical and dreamy-mystical musings did little to satisfy these needs [1491] . Bukharev’s activities of this kind aroused the displeasure of his superiors, and he was appointed—a very characteristic sign of the times!—just as Professor Gilyarov-Platonov had been in his day, to the newly formed Committee on Spiritual Censorship in St. Petersburg. There, Bukharev was tasked with censoring V. I. Askochevsky’s journal *Domashnyaya Beseda* (*Home Conversation*), in which Askochevsky attacked Bukharev and the scholarly monastic community in general in an exceptionally vulgar manner. His peacefulness, humility, and objectivity prevented Bukharev from striking out these insults. They were so unworthy that the council of the Moscow Academy initiated legal proceedings on charges of defamation. Askochevsky’s particularly fierce attacks were directed at Bukharev’s essay “On Orthodoxy in Relation to Modernity,” published in 1861. Askochevsky called the author a heretic and showered him with insults. And Bukharev allowed this “criticism” to go to press unhindered, limiting himself merely to publishing his rebuttal in the journal *Son of the Fatherland*. Further attacks followed, and the public was informed that Bukharev intended to publish an even more dangerous book on the Apocalypse in the near future. The resulting uproar forced Bukharev to withdraw his manuscript from the printing press. Nevertheless, he had already been so thoroughly discredited that he was dismissed from his post as censor and sent to the Nikitsky Monastery in Pereyaslavl, under orders never to publish any of his writings again. This was too much for the archimandrite’s frayed nerves: he declared that he wished to renounce his monastic vows, since the vow of unconditional obedience hindered him in his struggle against the injustice of his ecclesiastical superiors. For this, he was branded a renegade, which weighed even more heavily on him. Bukharev spent the last years of his life in financial hardship: the royalties from his infrequent publications were too meager to provide for his livelihood, especially for a man who was already married. He died in April 1871.[1492] Bukharev’s fate laid bare, first and foremost, the problems of the scholarly monastic order, but it also pointed to the need to reform theological education: the views that prevailed within it did not meet the demands of the times.

The oldest of the academies, the Kyiv Academy, was reorganized based on a new curriculum in 1819. For about ten years afterward, it suffered from a shortage of faculty. A new period of growth began only during the rectorship of Archimandrite Innokenty Borisov (1830–1839)[1493] . He graduated from the Kyiv Academy in 1823, becoming its first master’s degree recipient, and was appointed inspector of the St. Petersburg Seminary. That same year, he took monastic vows and, already a hieromonk, earned a bachelor’s degree in theology from the St. Petersburg Academy. By early 1826, Innokenty was an extraordinary professor, and two months later, an archimandrite. Large crowds gathered to hear his sermons at the Kazan Cathedral and the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, and their publication in the academic journal *Christian Reading* immediately boosted its circulation. An unfortunate consequence of Archimandrite Innokenty’s popularity as a preacher was the criticism directed at his lectures at the Academy. Because of his tendency to provide philosophical justifications for dogmatic propositions, he was accused of misinterpreting Orthodoxy. Here is what D. S. Rostislavov, who knew Borisov as both an inspector and a professor, writes in his memoirs of his student years: “Borisov… studied foreign theological literature with great diligence; one might say that he read everything of note that was published in that field at the time, whether it came from the rationalists and neologists of the day or from defenders of Catholic and Protestant dogma. But in addition, with perhaps no less diligence, he studied philosophy, history, aesthetics, archaeology, and so on… Without wishing to offend the admirers of the late Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov, Borisov’s scholarship was more multifaceted, more extensive, and more modern than that of the Moscow saint. The latter could astonish anyone with his extraordinarily extensive knowledge of theology and the writings of the Church Fathers. But it was the former whom the professors of the universities of Kyiv and Kharkiv regarded with amazement, as they were invited to his evening gatherings for scholarly discussions—for the most part on almost any subject, not just theological sciences… As a professor, Borisov was not a dry theorist or a pedantic German scholar[], but rather an orator who was inspired and passionate about his subject and who knew how to inspire and captivate his listeners as well… His lectures… were deeply thought out and presented in a strictly systematic manner.” At first, Innokenty Borisov taught apologetics and ecclesiology; later, during his final year in St. Petersburg, he taught dogmatics. In doing so, he “boldly touched upon rationalist ideas; of course, he evaluated and criticized them, as befits a teacher at a theological academy, but he did not rail against them like a fanatic. The students were captivated by these lectures; they listened intently and left the classroom completely enchanted by them.” Later, as rector of the Kiev Academy—which he led to a new golden age—he continued to captivate his audience with his lectures [1494] .

After Archimandrite Jeremiah Solovyov’s rectorship, which lasted only one year, Archimandrite Dimitry Muretov (1811–1883) became the head of the Kyiv Academy, serving as rector for 10 years (1840–1850)[1495] . He was the son of a clergyman, studied at the Kiev Academy, and graduated in 1835 with a certificate recognizing him as the best in both ability and knowledge. His teacher, the academy’s rector Innokenty Borisov, entrusted him—as a bachelor’s degree holder—with teaching Holy Scripture and hermeneutics. In 1837, Borisov handed over to Muretov—who had already taken monastic vows in 1835—his lectures on dogmatics, in which Muretov soon surpassed his teacher, rejecting both the startling boldness of his conclusions and definitions and their scholastic formalism. Muretov’s lectures were distinguished by their depth and philosophical precision. Their content rested on a solid historical foundation. Out of modesty, Muretov did not publish his works on dogmatics, and it is a great stroke of luck that at least the notes from some of his lectures, taken by one of his students (N. D. Ogloblin), have been preserved. “In his lectures, he sought to trace theological issues back to their spiritual sources, to spiritual experience,” wrote G. Florovsky. “And one always senses in him the inquiring spirit of a mind that is constantly probing.” Dimitri’s worldview must now be reconstructed from his sermons. He loved to preach, and most of all on dogmatic topics. He spoke very simply, but in simple, almost naive words, he was able to express the full precision of religious contemplations and reveal the inner perspective even in everyday trifles. Dimitri most closely resembles Filaret of Moscow—in his dogmatic inquisitiveness, his strength, the consistency of his reasoning, and his gift for vivid definitions… In theology, Dimitri was, above all, a philosopher. He proceeded from the data of Revelation, from the testimony of the Word of God, and then immediately moved on to a speculative exploration of the meaning and power of dogma. He was not a historian, although he adhered to the historical method in his exposition of dogmatics”[1496] . Makarii Bulgakov was among his students. It is difficult to say to what extent the latter’s dogmatics were influenced by Muretov. It is possible that he made use of his teacher’s lecture notes [1497] . Among the professors of philosophy during this period, the first was the priest I. M. Skvortsov (1795–1863), who, upon graduating (in 1817) the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, he taught first at the Kiev Seminary and then, from 1819 to 1849, at the academy. Skvortsov left behind a large number of works on the history of philosophy and an analysis of Kant’s philosophy, but he owed his popularity primarily to the lectures on canon law that he delivered at Kyiv University. He was close friends with Archimandrite Innokenty Borisov and later corresponded with him. Borisov’s influence on his ideas is undeniable. “Philosophy, in all its power, is needed at the academy,” Skvortsov wrote to his friend. “This is the need of the age, and without it, the teacher of the Church will have no significance before his students”[1498] . Borisov and Skvortsov truly awakened a keen interest in philosophy among the students of the academy. Many future researchers and professors of philosophy at theological academies and universities in the 1930s–1950s studied precisely at the Kyiv Academy [1499] .

The St. Petersburg Academy, where faculty members changed with particular frequency, could boast of only a few notable theologians during the post-reform period. Indeed, only Filaret Drozdov (1812–1819) and Grigory Postnikov (1819–1822) are truly worthy of mention. And even in later years, the professors of philosophy did not distinguish themselves in any way. A recognized expert in dogmatics such as Nikanor Brovkovich wrote in the 1840s: “I… have seen that in our system, this, that, and the other, from the standpoint of so-called science, appear far less solid than they had seemed until now from the standpoint of rigorous Orthodoxy”[1500] . However, he is deeply grateful to the rector, Archimandrite Makarii Bulgakov (1850–1857), for his lectures on dogmatics: Macarius gave a fruitful impetus to the development of theological scholarship. Although his lectures, in the opinion of Nikanor Brovkovich, were not as good as his publications, they were simple and clear, and in general he was a great teacher![1501] Bulgakov’s most outstanding scholarly achievement was not *Orthodox Dogmatic Theology* but *History of the Russian Church*, which secured him a place of honor in Russian scholarship. Contemporaries’ opinions of him varied greatly. To Makarii, the cassock of a scholarly monk and his high position in the hierarchy often seemed not a source of support but a burden, an obstacle to his scholarly work. “How tired I am of the episcopal ministry. There is nothing I want more than to retire as soon as possible!” he wrote in one of his letters as early as 1867. According to his biographer F. I. Titov, Makarii Bulgakov was among the most progressive of the bishops of the 1860s and 1870s. “Makarii Bulgakov was a hierarch of broad horizons, enlightened views, and rare tolerance for the opinions and convictions of others, including his opponents, of whom he had quite a few”[1502] . His “progressive” views met with particular hostility from conservative hierarchs, while numerous careerists watched with envy as he effortlessly attained his high position. He was patronized by and clearly favored over other bishops by Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy, who valued the progressive nature (admittedly, quite relative) of his views. Makarii Bulgakov’s participation in drafting the reform of the ecclesiastical court in 1870 caused great outrage [1503] . Through the efforts of his opponent, Professor A. F. Lavrov-Platonov of the Moscow Academy, the reform was thwarted. Subsequently, Lavrov, while serving as vicar of the Moscow Diocese, found himself under the authority of Metropolitan Makarii, who entrusted the administration of his diocese to Bishop Alexii (as Lavrov was now known) in order to free up time to work on *The History of the Russian Church*[1504] .

Among the professors at the St. Petersburg Academy, Ioann Sokolov (1818–1869) also deserves mention. His development was influenced by his teachers at the Moscow Academy—Filaret Gumilevsky, A. V. Gorsky, and F. A. Golubinsky. After graduating from the Academy, Sokolov remained there to teach ethics, pastoral theology, and biblical studies. He was then transferred to the St. Petersburg Academy, where he taught canon law for ten years after receiving, despite sharp criticism from Metropolitan Filaret, a doctorate in theology for his work “An Outline of a Course in Canon Law”[1505] . From 1855 to 1857, he served as rector of the St. Petersburg Seminary, and from 1864 to 1867, as rector of the St. Petersburg Academy; in between these appointments, he served as rector of the Academy in Kazan. He then served as Bishop of Smolensk until his untimely death. Incidentally, his transfer to Kazan coincided with the appointment of Makarii Bulgakov as Bishop of Tambov. Archimandrite Porphyry Uspensky, who himself suffered greatly due to the conservatism of the hierarchy, wrote the following in his fascinating diary: “There are unfortunate times when the scope of beneficial activity for gifted people is restricted. Such are our times. Recently, the intelligent rector of the St. Petersburg Seminary, Archimandrite John, was sent from here to Kazan, and in place of the falcon they installed a raven—Archimandrite Nektarios, summoned from Kyiv to take his turn in the priestly ministry. The rector of the academy, His Eminence Makarii, was transferred to Tambov, where he will judge drunken clergymen and where he is unlikely to continue the history of our Church, of which only the first three parts have been published recently. He did not have the good fortune to find favor with the new, strict-minded metropolitan.”[1506] . The metropolitan referred to here was Grigorii Postnikov. In the memoirs of Metropolitan Leontius Lebedinsky of Moscow (1891–1893), a student of Ioann Sokolov, there is also information about exactly what caused the latter to fall out of favor with Metropolitan Grigory: “Ioann Sokolov taught canon law… we listened to his lectures with pleasure. Highly gifted, he possessed a bold flight of thought and a sound mind. He knew how to make what seemed to be a boring subject quite interesting through his manner of presentation. In his teaching, he differed greatly from Makarii (referring to Makarii Bulgakov. – I. S.), spoke rather slowly, raised questions, and answered them superbly. He possessed, in particular, a critical talent. I remember when he analyzed the “Spiritual Regulations”; we were thrilled. I think we rightly considered Father John superior to Makarii because of his deep and independent mind. Unfortunately, Father John’s peculiar character and his often impassioned outbursts did him a great deal of harm and slowed his progress in the hierarchy. It is a pity that this intelligent man did not live longer as a bishop.” And Nikanor Brovkovich, also a student of John Sokolov, emphasizes his solid knowledge and talent as a lecturer. He aptly characterizes John as a scholarly monk who suffered from “worldly sorrow.” His nervousness was downright pathological and became one of the reasons why he literally burned out in the fire of excitement that engulfed Russia’s spiritual life in the 1860s (see § 9)[1507] .

One cannot fail to mention F. Sidonsky (1805–1873), a professor of philosophy at the St. Petersburg Academy. He was a graduate of that academy and, beginning in 1833, served as a professor of philosophy; however, he was forced to leave his chair as early as 1835. In 1864, when he was already a priest, he was invited to serve as a professor of philosophy at St. Petersburg University. At the academy, he taught the history of philosophy, ethics, and natural law, and was the first to do so in Russian. He paid no attention to the outdated but still officially approved textbooks by Baumeister and Winkler, which students found repulsive. In his lectures, Sidonsky introduced “many of the ideas that were engaging German and French thinkers at the time; through this, he stimulated and sustained the students’ curiosity and awakened in them a desire for philosophical thinking”[1508] . Sidonsky’s work was continued by V. N. Karpov (1798–1867), a student of Skvortsov at the Kyiv Academy. Karpov made a name for himself through his translations and analysis of Plato’s dialogues. Although he took great care not to stray from Orthodoxy in any way, he was unable to completely avoid suspicion in this regard. One of his colleagues at the academy, Professor Rostislavov, recounts that Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov once asked Karpov, in the presence of Metropolitan Seraphim Glagolevsky, whether reason leads to religion, to which Karpov replied in the affirmative, thereby disarming the skeptical hierarchs. In any case, he remained at the St. Petersburg Academy and taught there for 34 years. In the field of philosophy, he sought to create his own system, based on Christianity and rejecting rationalism [1509] .

Among Karpov’s numerous students, whom he influenced, the most outstanding was Nikanor Brovkovich (1826–1890), an opponent of positivism and a proponent of Christian idealism [1510] . His very interesting memoirs, published only in 1900 under the title “Biographical Materials,” contain information (some of which we have already cited) about his teachers at the academy—Makarii, Karpov, and Ioann Sokolov; they also include the critical reflections mentioned here on the scholarly monastic order, to which he himself had belonged since his student years (1847–1851), having taken monastic vows in 1850. Nikanor Brovkovich’s theological views, like his worldview as a whole, made him an opponent of the educational system that prevailed at the academy. When, in his lectures on apologetics, he dared to draw upon contemporary philosophers such as Feuerbach and Strauss, he found himself in conflict with Rector Makarii Bulgakov. From that point on, his activities were viewed with suspicion, which became a major obstacle to his career. Instead of “dangerous apologetics,” he was forced, for more than five years while he remained a professor at the Moscow Academy, to teach an introduction to Orthodox theology, strictly adhering to Makarii Bulgakov’s textbook, published in 1847. Over the next 14 years, Nikanor served successively as rector of three seminaries and then, from 1868 to 1871, as rector of the Kazan Academy—the last rector of the pre-reform period. His questionable reputation as a theologian hindered him even in the office of Count D. A. Tolstoy, the chief prosecutor, who kept him in the rank of vicar bishop for five years. The real reason for these difficulties was Nikanor’s superiority over his fellow scholarly monks and hierarchs in terms of talent, knowledge, and the gift of preaching. He was a personality with strongly pronounced individual traits, which in Russia—and especially among the Russian hierarchy—were so often mistaken for a sign of liberalism; and it was difficult to shake off such a label throughout his life. A stroke of luck finally helped him become an archbishop. A sermon on the benefits of war—which he had not actually delivered—earned him the favor of Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev; and thanks to the “worldly manner” with which he conducted himself upon meeting Alexander III’s wife during the military maneuvers in Yelizavetgrad in 1884, he earned the highest favor [1511] .

Another notable scholar active at the beginning of the period under consideration was Archpriest G. P. Pavsky (1787–1863). He was part of the first graduating class of the St. Petersburg Academy following the reforms of 1808–1814 and subsequently received a chair in Ancient Hebrew. After his ordination as a priest, he was also offered the position of professor of theology at St. Petersburg University and was entrusted with teaching the Law of God to Crown Prince Alexander Nikolaevich. “Pavsky was, first and foremost, a philologist—he possessed a philological gift and intuition. He came to love the Hebrew Bible with all the fervor of scholarly passion.” In addition to Semitic languages, Pavsky was fluent in German, French, and English, as well as Sanskrit and even Icelandic. He was familiar with all the linguistic literature of his time devoted to the Old Testament. Here is how one of his students describes the significance of his teaching activities in the 1920s and 1930s: “As a professor of Hebrew, he apparently could not have had a great influence on his students; yet, in scholarly terms, he benefited them almost more than all the theology instructors (with few exceptions)—this was due to his teaching method. After covering Hebrew grammar in several classes, he would select a prophet for translation, first analyzing—or helping the students analyze—its literal meaning, and then supplementing the analysis with philological and theological observations that always held the students’ interest”[1512] . In this way, over the course of several years, Pavsky covered the entire Old Testament in his classes. The lecture notes of one of his students, published by lithography in 1828, became widely circulated in all the academies. Pavsky published the content of his lectures with his heir in two small books: “Christian Doctrine in a Concise System Based on a Preliminary Understanding of Religion, Revelation, and the Bible,” and “An Outline of Church History.” When Metropolitan Seraphim of St. Petersburg learned of this, he asked Metropolitan Filaret to review these books, and Filaret found in them “ambiguity and confusion in concepts.” Subsequently, Seraphim demanded an explanation from Pavsky and submitted it, along with Filaret’s comments, to Emperor Nicholas I. The emperor was not satisfied with Pavsky’s explanation, as a result of which Pavsky was forced to resign from both his court position and his professorship. The emperor granted him a pension that allowed Pavsky to devote himself entirely to scholarly work from then on. This occurred in 1835, and soon afterward, in 1841–1842, Pavsky faced new difficulties in connection with his translation of the Old Testament. Hieromonk Agathangel Solovyov stirred up a great commotion surrounding this work—the existence of which, thanks to numerous copies, could by no means be a secret—proclaiming everywhere that the translation was inaccurate in certain parts and distorted the meaning of Holy Scripture; this forced the church authorities to intervene [1513] . Below we will discuss in greater detail this “Pavsky affair,” which, like the first, clearly demonstrates the difficulties one had to face when working in the field of theological scholarship.

A similarly abrupt end to his teaching career awaited the professor of literary studies, Archpriest K. I. Delektorsky († 1842). As a clergyman, he was required to deliver sermons at the church of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. He detested “seminary rhetoric”; he spoke vividly and plainly, unafraid to point out the vices of the capital’s aristocratic society. Archpriest I. Bazarov recalled how Emperor Nicholas once said to the priest: “Father, you are still too young to be an accuser,” to which Delektorsky replied: “Your Majesty, I do not know when God will call me to His Judgment. As long as the light shines, I must work to save the souls of my listeners.” In 1835, Delektorsky was dismissed from the academy [1514] .

The Kazan Academy was reformed later than all the others; it did not resume its activities until 1842. Chief Prosecutors Nechaev and Protasov delayed the opening of the reorganized academy, ostensibly due to a lack of funds, but in reality for reasons typical of the Nicholas I era: increasing the number of such a restless element as the student body was politically undesirable. It was only Archbishop Vladimir Uzhinsky of Kazan (1836–1848) who finally succeeded in insisting on the academy’s opening. Since the seminary building had been severely damaged by fire, the lecture halls had to be set up in the attic of the Spassky Monastery, and the students were housed in the monks’ cells. The academy’s rector, Archimandrite Grigory Mitkevich (1844–1851), and Archbishop Grigory Postnikov (1848–1856) did much to support the academy financially [1515] . Among the faculty, the aforementioned archimandrites Feodor Bukharev and, in particular, Ioann Sokolov stood out . The course in dogmatic theology taught by Sokolov in Kazan (and later in St. Petersburg) made just as strong an impression on the students as his earlier lectures on canon law in St. Petersburg had. One of those who attended John’s lectures in Kazan recalled with enthusiasm the depth and clarity of his thought, the extraordinary originality of his language, and the unique personal genius that permeated everything he did. “A distinctive feature of his lectures was the combination of subtle and profound philosophical analysis with a certain touch of mysticism—of the purest, highest, and noblest kind, however”[1516] . Despite all his merits, Sokolov, as a teacher and rector, was—according to P. Znamensky, who was also one of his students—power-hungry and full of contempt, sometimes bordering on rudeness, not only toward students but also toward professors. Exceeding his authority, he transferred professors and assistant professors from one department to another and interfered in their teaching activities. His peculiar character and these antics, as Znamensky himself writes, were a significant hindrance to the normal course of the educational process [1517] . His successors, Archimandrite Innokenty Novgorodov (1867–1868) and Nikanor Brovkovich (1868–1871), made considerable efforts to eliminate the negative consequences of his rectorship [1518] .

As can be seen from the examples cited, for some time prior to the 1869 reform, the Kazan Academy served as a place of exile for “liberal-minded” scholarly monks (Bukharev, Sokolov, Brovkovich). It differed from other academies in that it was considered a missionary academy, designed to familiarize its students with the religions and languages of Russia’s non-Russian peoples. However, until 1869, only the foundations for this were being laid.

The reform of 1808–1814, in addition to addressing the shortcomings of the theological school, also aimed to expand its curriculum. First and foremost, it became clear that graduates of seminaries who had completed the old curriculum lacked sufficient knowledge to follow academic lectures at the new scholarly level. At the same time, a significant shortage of qualified instructors became apparent. Fortunately, it quickly became evident that there were many capable young people among the students, who, under the new system, soon became excellent teachers. The new generation of instructors sought to base their teaching on independent scholarly research. These aspirations met with repressive opposition from the rectors and diocesan bishops, under whose authority the academies operated. Over the course of the 30 years following the reforms, the new curricula were gradually rolled back in favor of the old ones, and ultimately, in 1839–1840, with the consent of Emperor Nicholas I, they were severely curtailed by Chief Prosecutor Protasov. All these measures dealt a severe blow to academic and seminary education, but they were no longer able to halt scholarly work in the field of theology. Despite the repression, it survived, continued to develop, and laid the groundwork for the rapid rise of theology in the second half of the 19th century, when the reforms of 1808–1814 finally bore fruit.

d) The political and social processes of the era of Nicholas I naturally had a great influence on the external life of the theological school, significantly altering it; however, its internal development was, in its essential features, shaped by the spirit of the reforms of the Alexandrian era. The standard of education rose, leading to higher demands on students’ diligence and intellectual acuity. In almost all academies and seminaries, the method of rote memorization that had prevailed in the 18th century was gradually eradicated. Pupils and students, for their part, began to show an ever-greater interest in scholarship. The best evidence of this is the teaching staff, revitalized by young faculty, who managed to maintain the spirit and vitality of the educational process even in the second half of the period under consideration. These new trends also left their mark on the examination system. Previously, mid-year and end-of-year grades on oral exams at academies and some seminaries were decisive for a student’s future. They determined the student’s ranking and thus had a decisive influence on his professional career after the final examination. However, good grades were merely the result of diligence and a good memory, which helped students memorize the textbook. After the reforms of 1808–1814, greater importance was placed on students’ semester assignments, which revealed not only knowledge but also the degree of understanding of the material studied, and sometimes even the ability to engage in critical analysis. Students in their final year were now required to submit an academic (so-called “course”) paper, which was thoroughly reviewed and graded, especially for students who ranked among the top ten based on their oral exam results. These papers were often edited by instructors (in Moscow, Metropolitan Filaret himself sometimes did this) and then published. This system compelled students to focus on a particular field of study. Unfortunately, this specialization was rarely taken into account when former graduates—now faculty members—were assigned their subjects: it was believed that a graduate of the academy should be proficient in all subjects to the extent necessary to teach any of them. In seminaries, however, there were still cases where a teacher, having taught the same discipline for many years, had the opportunity to continue scholarly work in his field of interest. But in the academies, this was practically impossible, at least for scholarly monks, since their advancement up the career ladder was tied to constantly changing the subject they taught. Therefore, even as a student, a young scholar was troubled by the thought that he would likely be torn away from his beloved field of study in the future. Furthermore, continuing the practice of the 18th century and to the detriment of the theological school, graduates of theological academies largely filled the faculty positions at secular institutions of higher education: universities, the Medical-Surgical Academy, and others. A particularly severe “drain” occurred when M. M. Speransky required a large number of professors of Russian jurisprudence [1519] .

As before, the academies were subject to the supervision of the respective diocesan bishops. However, after Protasov’s appointment as Chief Prosecutor, the St. Petersburg Academy had more reason to fear his interference than that of the elderly Metropolitan Seraphim. Metropolitan Evgeny Bolkhovitinov of Kyiv took little interest in the affairs of the academy under his jurisdiction; his successor, Metropolitan Filaret Amfiteatrov, on the other hand, kept a close watch to ensure that instruction at the academy remained conservative in spirit. The Moscow Academy was under the constant supervision of Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov, who strictly controlled not only the activities of the faculty but also the lives of the students and the very spirit of the academy. He was interested not only in the academic qualifications of the professors but, above all, in their personal attitudes toward matters of faith. “An unbelieving instructor in any department is harmful to the academy,” he once remarked [1520] . The metropolitan considered the application of scholarly-critical methods in theology a dangerous sign of unbelief. His frequent visits and regular presence at exams instilled fear in both professors and students. In the presence of students, Metropolitan Filaret would often criticize a lecturer’s remarks in the harshest terms, and no one could be sure that they would not be interrupted by him. His clashes with the rector, Archimandrite Polikarp Gaitannikov (1824–1835), at the academy were long remembered [1521] . The result of this control—which was highly questionable from a pedagogical standpoint—was that professors began to align their lectures with the metropolitan’s views. The “Filaret spirit” shaped more than one generation of students at the Moscow Academy, defining their theological, ecclesiastical , and political views. Even at the end of the 19th century, it was still evident among many theologians and hierarchs. New pedagogical regulations, bearing the hallmarks of military discipline and inspired by Chief Prosecutor Protasov, spread from the St. Petersburg Academy to other academies. In Kazan, they were introduced by Archimandrite Ioann Sokolov. As rector, he regulated students’ hairstyles, arranged them by height during divine services, and introduced uniforms—a regime of excessive strictness, according to the academy’s historian [1522] . The widespread prevalence of this kind of pedantic regulation is amply attested to by the memoirs of students from various theological educational institutions. The only factor contributing to occasional relaxations was the frequent turnover of leading educators, particularly rectors. Continuity in education was maintained to some extent only thanks to the inspectors, who were replaced less frequently. The rules were especially strict in Moscow, where, in the spirit of Filaret, efforts were made to isolate students from life outside the academy’s walls as much as possible. The resulting reaction in the academies—and to some extent in the upper classes of seminaries—was a breakdown in discipline and even drinking binges [1523] .

The shift in public opinion during the early years of Alexander II’s reign could not help but affect religious education as well. Students showed a keen interest in issues of public life and secular journalism, especially in the discussions on these topics appearing in the pages of the new magazines that were emerging at the time. In the seminary, as Metropolitan Filaret put it, “the seeds of democracy” had been sown. Seminary students devoured not only banned magazines and pamphlets but also works of German liberal theology and even philosophical materialism, such as those by Feuerbach. A cause for alarm was the participation of students from the theological academy and the university in Kazan in a memorial service for those killed during peasant unrest in the village of Bezda (Kazan Governorate)[1524] . It was evident that isolating the theological school from changes in public life had proved impossible. A sign of the end of the Nicholas era in the field of theological education was the demand for a new reform, put forward by a revitalized public opinion.

§ 21. Theological Education after the School Reform of 1867–1869.

Protasov’s policies sharply exacerbated the dissatisfaction with the state of theological education and the educational system in theological institutions that had arisen following the 1808–1814 reform. Even those church hierarchs who, in their youth, had fully endorsed the principles of the 1808–1814 reform now viewed them with skepticism, though they did not agree with the views of Nicholas I and Protasov regarding the objectives of theological education either. Some of these hierarchs, such as Metropolitans Filaret Drozdov and Filaret Amfiteatrov, found themselves in a difficult position. While condemning the reactionary tendencies in the educational policies of the Nicholas era, they themselves provided strong support for those policies by fulfilling their duties to oversee the theological educational institutions in their dioceses. Above all, they sought to prevent modern methods of critical inquiry—toward which theology professors were so inclined—from entering academia and the university faculties. Among the professoriate, the conviction that a new reform was necessary was widespread, although there was no clear understanding of its objectives. The inappropriateness of simply reverting to the ideas of the 1808–1814 reform was obvious even to those who viewed them with deep understanding; times had changed so much that new approaches were needed to reform both the curricula and the educational system as a whole. Furthermore, due to insufficient funding, the financial situation of theological schools had become unbearable. This applied first and foremost to state scholarship recipients in need, the condition of the seminary and district theological school buildings, the meager salaries of teachers—who were leaving their posts at in search of other work—and numerous other shortcomings. Under Protasov’s Office of the Chief Prosecutor, the bureaucratization of the theological education system intensified sharply [1525] .

Given this state of affairs, it becomes quite clear why Alexander II’s liberal domestic policy had such a strong and direct impact on theological schools, as well as on the sentiments of the clergy. The final impetus for the reorganization of theological education came from the radical reforms of secular educational institutions that began in the 1860s, which made the backwardness of the theological schools—stuck at the Nicholas I level—particularly noticeable. Beginning in 1866, Count D. A. Tolstoy combined the offices of Minister of Public Education and Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. It is clear that he sought to apply the principles of secular school reform to the realm of theological education as well. At the beginning of Alexander II’s reign, censorship regulations were relaxed. New journals began to appear, including church-affiliated ones, which immediately began to criticize the shortcomings of the theological education system. In 1860, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov wrote that the criticism from public opinion “contains one-sided, impetuous, and arrogant ideas. Those who discuss Russia in various respects swing from the extreme of self-praise to the extreme of universal condemnation. Instead of modestly pointing out imperfections and shortcomings, they utter insulting condemnations and crude mockery.” At the same time, the metropolitan urged that[] “we ourselves must first change in many ways, rebuild much, and renounce much of what is old and decrepit.” The following idea is surprising (given Filaret’s views as a whole): “It would seem good to establish theology departments at universities, where those who have completed the full gymnasium curriculum could be admitted without distinction of social status (i.e., regardless of their class affiliation. – I. S.)… even the theological academies require rational reform, particularly with regard to their privileged status”[1526] . At the same time, the metropolitan by no means had in mind the radical reform that was being universally demanded, but only what he called “reasonable measures.” About a year later, in a letter to Chief Prosecutor Count A. P. Tolstoy dated February 10, 1861, regarding reports on the meetings of the then-existing Committee on Proposals for the Reform of Theological Schools and regarding the “arguments” of professors at the Moscow Academy, Filaret wrote: “In general, when discussing the reform of schools, it is worth noting that the majority of the criticisms—with which the proposals are generously filled—directly imply not so much the need to reform the statutes as the need to inspire in superiors and instructors zeal, activity, vigorous zeal, and a strong awareness that both excessive cold strictness and people-pleasing leniency toward students are not virtues but vices”[1527] . Here, Filaret speaks as a conservative cultural politician. He skillfully uses the professors’ “self-criticism,” voiced during a heated debate on pedagogical issues, to shift the focus away from a radical revision of the statutes—which he found undesirable and which could have led to changes in the educational and administrative systems—toward a more neutral topic [1528] .

While society debated fundamental reforms, the Holy Synod undertook some minor improvements to the curricula. In 1858, geodesy was removed from the seminary curriculum, and the teaching of natural sciences was reduced. In 1865, the study of medicine, natural sciences, and agriculture was abolished, but the requirements for knowledge of ancient languages were raised, and pedagogy was introduced into the curriculum. The most significant of the Holy Synod’s measures was the establishment in 1860 of the aforementioned Committee on Proposals for the Reform of Theological Schools, chaired by Archbishop Dimitri Mureto of Kherson; Professor A. V. Gorsky was also a member of the committee. In early 1863, the committee presented draft charters for theological schools and seminaries, seminary curricula, and instructions for supervisors in seminary dormitories. These drafts were sent to diocesan bishops, academies, and seminaries for discussion, a process that dragged on until 1866. In some places, committees involving the local clergy were organized specifically for this purpose [1529] . Count D. A. Tolstoy, appointed Chief Prosecutor in 1866, dissolved Archbishop Dimitri’s committee “due to a lack of funds,” and then requested and received from the emperor additional appropriations for the needs of theological schools in the amount of 1,500,000 rubles, thereby securing imperial approval for the creation of a new committee, which convened on March 19, 1866; its task was to expedite the implementation of reforms [1530] . The committee was headed by Metropolitan Arseny Moskvin of Kyiv, with Bishop Nektarios Nadezhdin of Nizhny Novgorod serving as his assistant; the rest of the committee consisted of four laypeople and four clergymen. Among the latter was Archpriest I. V. Vasilyev, who was on friendly terms with the Chief Prosecutor and advocated for the modernization of the statutes, whereas Nektary acted in a more conservative spirit. By December 1866, the statutes for seminaries and theological schools were ready and had been sent by Chief Prosecutor D. A. Tolstoy to Metropolitan Filaret for review and approval. On May 14, 1867, the draft submitted by the Holy Synod was approved by the emperor. On the same day, the Emperor also signed the “Regulations on the Educational Committee under the Holy Synod,” which replaced Protasov’s Spiritual and Educational Administration [1531] .

This innovation significantly altered the structure and scope of responsibilities for the administration of theological educational institutions. “The Educational Committee under the Holy Synod,” states the first paragraph of the “Regulations,” “is established to discuss issues pertaining to educational and pedagogical matters that are subject to resolution by the Chief Ecclesiastical Administration and to monitor, through audits, the state of these matters in theological educational institutions.” The committee consisted of a president and nine clerical and lay members, six of whom were permanent staff members, while the remaining three served as auditors and were therefore exempt from attending meetings. The clerical members were appointed by the Holy Synod, while the lay members were selected upon the recommendation of the Chief Prosecutor. The committee was authorized to invite experts in an advisory capacity. The main difference from the Spiritual and Educational Administration of Protasov’s time was that the committee’s activities were limited to matters of education and upbringing. Inspections and administrative correspondence were transferred to the jurisdiction of the Chief Prosecutor’s office. Financial and construction matters were also separated and transferred to the relevant department of the Holy Synod. The committee’s jurisdiction retained the following: 1) the introduction of new charters in ecclesiastical educational institutions; 2) measures to improve these charters as necessary; 3) curricula, textbooks, and the processing of annual reports submitted by educational institutions; 4) the establishment of schools for the daughters of the clergy; 5) the creation of academic libraries and the publication of relevant books. In addition, the committee was tasked with “discussing matters pertaining to religious education.” The fact that, of the four clergy members of the committee—including the president—only one belonged to the scholarly monastic order was entirely in line with the sentiments within the clergy and society, which demanded greater attention be paid to the parish clergy [1532] . For example, D. I. Rostislavov, a former professor at the St. Petersburg Academy who had already retired, anonymously published a book in Leipzig in 1866 titled “On the Organization of Theological Schools in Russia,” in which he sharply criticized the scholarly monastic order and its dominance in theological education [1533] . Numerous articles and materials of a similar nature evidently also had an impact; they reflected the public’s keen interest in the activities of both committees—the 1866 committee and its predecessor, whose preparatory work ensured the prompt fulfillment of the tasks at hand.

According to the Charters of Theological Schools and Seminaries published in 1867, as well as the Charters of the Academies that came into effect in 1869, the district academic administrations, to which seminaries and theological schools had previously been subordinate, were abolished. Special councils were established to address issues of education and instruction in the academies, while administrative matters were resolved at board meetings. Seminaries and theological schools were now headed by boards consisting of representatives of the teaching staff and the diocesan clergy. Teachers and other officials were, to a certain extent, elected. The positions of rectors in all theological educational institutions, including academies, were henceforth open to the lay clergy as well.

The reform of theological schools and seminaries began in the 1867–1868 academic year and was completed in 1871. The order of implementation was determined by the previous division into academic districts. First, in 1868, the district theological schools of the St. Petersburg and Kiev districts were reformed, followed by those of the Moscow and Kazan districts. Next in line, and in the same sequence, were the seminaries (1870–1871)[1534] . The statutes of 1867 mandated that each diocese open as many theological schools as were needed to meet local demands. “The theological schools in each diocese, under the general supervision of the Holy Synod and the direction of the diocesan bishop, are entrusted to the immediate care of the local clergy.” Each diocese was divided into districts according to the number of schools. One representative of the clergy from every ten parishes in the district was delegated to the district assemblies, which took place once or twice a year; other parish priests from the district could also attend these assemblies in an advisory capacity. Any issues concerning schools were open for discussion at these conventions. In addition, elections were held there for school inspectors and members of the school boards from among the clergy, who were then approved by the diocesan bishop. In addition to these conventions, educational matters were overseen by the board of the local diocesan seminary, which appointed auditors from among the seminary’s faculty or the local clergy and provided for educational materials. The charters sought to engage clergy in the work of educational institutions where their sons received their primary education and to involve them in public and church life. Of great importance was the right of these congresses to discuss the financial affairs of theological schools; this became fully evident when the parallel classes—which had just been organized at the initiative of the congresses—began to receive funding through parish self-taxation and voluntary donations. It was here, first and foremost, that the initiatives of the 1860s and the enthusiasm (which, unfortunately, did not last long) sparked among the parish clergy by their inclusion in public and church life bore fruit.

The curriculum of the theological schools was designed to last four years. Students from all social classes were admitted; upon graduation, they were eligible to enroll not only in seminaries but also in secular educational institutions. The theological school was headed by a board consisting of an inspector, his assistant, and two representatives of the clergy elected at a district convention. The inspector was required to hold at least a candidate’s degree in theology. As an exception, individuals with at least six years of teaching experience or the same length of priestly service, as defined by , were also eligible for this position. The curriculum included the following subjects: Old and New Testament biblical history, catechism, worship, church regulations, Russian, Church Slavonic, Latin, and Greek, arithmetic, geography, calligraphy, and church singing [1535] . Because district theological schools admitted students from all social classes, they were able to compensate to some extent for the shortcomings of secular elementary schools at that time.

At the same time, the Charter of the Seminaries, which had been carefully prepared by a committee led by Archbishop Dimitri Mureto, came into effect: it even drew upon materials regarding the organization of Roman Catholic seminaries in France and the Orthodox theological school on the island of Chalki near Constantinople [1536] . According to the new Charter, the main task of the seminaries was “to prepare young men for service to the Orthodox Church.” Sons of the clergy were given preference in admission. The remaining places were equally available to students of the Orthodox faith from all social classes. Graduates of secular secondary schools and adults with a certain level of knowledge of ecclesiastical matters were also admitted to the upper, theological classes. “The seminaries, under the general administration of the Holy Synod, are under the direct jurisdiction of the diocesan bishops.” The number of students was determined by the Holy Synod, but the local clergy were permitted, if necessary, to raise funds to create additional places. The bishop had the right at any time to attend classes or examinations, as well as to issue decisions on written requests and reports from the board of directors. In such cases, he would inform the Holy Synod. Furthermore, the bishop was responsible for overseeing the administrative affairs of the seminaries and defending them and their property before state authorities. Only a Master or Doctor of Theology holding the rank of archimandrite or (if from the lay clergy) archpriest could serve as rector of a seminary; if necessary, a candidate was elevated to the appropriate rank upon appointment. The rector’s duties included overseeing instruction, discipline, and the administration of the seminary’s affairs; he was not permitted to hold any other office. Only as an exception could a rector of monastic rank simultaneously serve as the abbot of a monastery, specifically if the seminary was located within the walls of that monastery. This put an end to the previous practice whereby rectors of academies and seminaries were entrusted with the abbotship of remote monasteries, which hindered their ability to properly fulfill both roles. Only a Master of Theology—including lay faculty members—could be appointed as inspector. Candidates for the positions of rector and inspector were nominated through elections at a faculty meeting; the bishop submitted the nominations to the Holy Synod, which approved one of them. However, the Holy Synod also had the right to appoint someone else at its discretion. The rector served as chair of the governing board, which consisted of the pedagogical and administrative assemblies. The pedagogical assembly, chaired by the rector, included the inspector, seven faculty members elected at a general faculty meeting, and three representatives of the diocesan clergy, who were elected for a six-year term by diocesan congresses and confirmed by the bishop. In addition to the rector and the inspector, the administrative assembly included one teacher and two clergy members, elected for a three-year term. Decisions were made by a majority vote. The spheres of authority of both assemblies were strictly delineated, so that the administrative assembly could deal only with financial matters. The minutes of the meetings were submitted to the diocesan bishop.

All seminaries were required to provide dormitories for both state-funded and self-supporting students. Passing the final exam entitled a student to a position as a priest. The best students were given the opportunity to continue their studies at the academy. Young men aged 14 and older who had graduated from a theological school were eligible to enroll in the seminary; those who had received a home education were required to take entrance exams, but they were not admitted to the upper grades. The curriculum for all six grades included: 1) interpretation of the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments; 2) general and Russian church history; 3) theology—an introduction to theology, dogmatics, and ethics; 4) practical pastoral theology; 5) homiletics; 6) liturgy; 7) Russian literature and the history of literature; 8) secular history, both general and Russian; 9) mathematics (algebra, geometry, trigonometry) and the basics of the Paschal cycle; 10) physics and the fundamentals of cosmography; 11) philosophy (logic, psychology, an overview of philosophical systems, and pedagogy); 12) languages: Latin, Greek, French, and German; 13) church chant. Instruction in ancient Hebrew and iconography was optional. Students could choose to study either French or German. Promotion to the next grade was based on an annual placement exam. According to the Charter, education was to be conducted in the spirit of the Orthodox Church. Students were required to attend church services, receive Holy Communion annually, and observe the fasts prescribed by the Church. In the dormitories, state-funded students received full board, while the others were required to pay a fee set by the board of directors; depending on local conditions, this fee varied considerably among different seminaries. The seminarians’ clothing was uniform, but there was not yet a specific uniform [1537] .

A careful comparison of the new curricula with the previous ones shows that some natural sciences, medicine, agriculture, catechism, biblical history, apologetics, and patrology had been removed. New subjects included an introduction to theology and pedagogy. Instruction in liturgy, homiletics, and Scripture was expanded, but the primary focus was on ancient languages. This was particularly emphasized by Chief Prosecutor Count D. A. Tolstoy, who reported to the emperor in 1868 that classical education—one of the most essential foundations of human culture, which had fallen into complete disrepair in theological educational institutions—was clearly being revitalized [1538] .

The reform of theological schools and seminaries began as early as the fall of 1867, coinciding with the start of the academic year. The principles of the reform, which offered broad opportunities to the local clergy, immediately met with an enthusiastic response. Clerical conventions held in nearly all dioceses demonstrated how deeply the clergy were interested in educational issues and with what seriousness and sense of responsibility they approached their new, more active role. A flood of articles in religious journals very quickly demonstrated that the notion of a poorly educated and morally degenerate clergy—which had been disseminated in individual pamphlets in the early 1860s—was greatly exaggerated. In many dioceses, the clergy showed great self-sacrifice, voluntarily agreeing to deductions from their modest salaries and parish revenues to create additional school places, as well as to repair seminary and school buildings; preliminary estimates were drawn up for the construction of new schools. In the Tambov Diocese, for example—which was by no means wealthy—the clergy raised the sum of 30,000 rubles, a very significant amount for those times, to support parallel classes at the local seminary.[1539]

The condition of the seminary buildings was critical. Over the decade from 1867 to 1877, 3.5 million rubles from funds earmarked for theological education were allocated for construction. The new Charter also provided for an increase in teachers’ salaries and in the funds allocated for the support of state-funded students. In the period up to 1871, the theological education fund received 1.5 million rubles from the treasury, and beginning that year, payments were made regularly every year. Since the reform of 1867–1869, the Fund for Theological Schools had constituted only a small portion of the funds allocated for the needs of theological education as a whole and transferred to the budget of the Holy Synod from the state treasury. The Emperor also ordered that, henceforth, proceeds from the sale of candles in cemetery and military churches—which had previously been exempt from this tax—be transferred to the fund. In 1870, it was mandated that a certain percentage of the total revenue from the sale of church candles, church mugs, and other items be allocated to the school fund.[1540]

In 1868, a new Charter for Diocesan Girls’ Schools was published. Their curricula were somewhat more extensive than those of theological schools and were designed to last six years. General and Russian history were taught; Greek and Latin were excluded, and instead of the Holy Scriptures, students studied biblical history, etc.; needlework was introduced as an additional subject. Furthermore, preparatory and teacher-training classes were permitted to be opened if the clergy so desired and guaranteed additional funding. The costs of maintaining diocesan girls’ schools generally fell entirely on the dioceses; they were subject to the authority of diocesan assemblies and diocesan bishops. By the end of Emperor Alexander II’s reign, there were already 47 such schools, 12 of which were funded directly by the Holy Synod. Their importance for public education was all the greater because girls from non-clerical social classes could also enroll there for a special fee. Their graduates worked fruitfully as teachers in parish schools—the number of which increased sharply under Alexander III—as well as in zemstvo schools and other educational institutions. It is a pity that their selfless efforts have thus far received virtually no attention in Russian historical literature [1541] .

Before the reform, there were 50 seminaries with 11,620 students and 186 theological schools with 36,610 students. During the reform, by 1871, three new theological schools and one seminary (the Don Seminary in Novocherkassk) had been opened. The number of seminary students reached 13,385, while the number of students in theological schools, on the contrary, fell to 27,053, as the clergy, influenced by public opinion, began to send their children more often to secular educational institutions, mainly to gymnasiums [1542] .

In 1867, the Holy Synod invited theological academies to express their views on the planned reform of their charters. The academies’ reports were submitted for review to a special commission chaired by Archbishop Nektarios of Nizhny Novgorod. Makarii Bulgakov was also a member of the commission. “The Academic Charter of 1869, which brought so much good to our Church and especially to theological scholarship, despite its very brief existence, came into being in its final form thanks to Makarii Bulgakov’s energetic defense of its principles,” writes his biographer. “Makarii Bulgakov boldly and resolutely defended the need to allow our theological school to develop freely and properly, in full accordance with the spirit and demands of the time”[1543] . The principles defended by Makarii, which were to a certain extent liberal, were the reason for the short-lived nature of the new Charter issued on May 30, 1869, which was replaced as early as 1884 by the so-called “anti-charter”[1544] .

This 1869 Charter differed significantly from the 1808 Charter and was similar in form to the charter of seminaries. Previously, the mission of the academies had been to prepare young men of the clergy for higher ecclesiastical offices and for teaching in seminaries, as well as to educate the clergy. The new Charter required the academies to “provide higher education for enlightened service to the Church and to ensure the training of teachers for theological educational institutions.” In practice, particular emphasis was placed on the first of these requirements, which entailed the development of theological scholarship. With the publication of the 1869 Charter, fruitful work began in all areas of theology. Finally, the fundamental methods of scholarly criticism—which had hitherto been suppressed out of fear of freethinking and the spiritual independence of scholars—gained full recognition. The Charter owes this trend to its drafters, who—alongside Makarii Bulgakov—included individuals well-versed in Western European theology who sought to introduce its methods into Russian academies. Professor A. L. Katansky, who died in 1919 and had graduated from the academy even before the 1869 Charter was adopted, but had begun his decades-long career as a scholar and instructor at the academy after its adoption, describes in his memoirs the atmosphere surrounding the Charter’s creation, its reception by students and professors, as well as the consequences of its curtailment by the reforms of 1884 and 1910—that is, everything he himself witnessed: “The main driving force behind the reform was the then Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod (since 1865), Count D. A. Tolstoy… But the soul of the committee was not its chairman (Metropolitan Arseny Moskvin. —Ed.), a man who was unremarkable except for his complete sympathy for the cause of reform, and who was therefore persona grata to Count D. A. Tolstoy, but rather the members of the committee, in particular the chairman of the Spiritual Education Committee, Archpriest I. V. Vasilyev, and the rector of the Petrograd Academy, Archpriest I. P. Yanyshev. Both were ardently devoted to the cause of reform and were excellent, highly knowledgeable representatives of the Western model of higher theological education: Archpriest I. V. Vasilyev in the Roman Catholic world, and Archpriest I. P. Yanyshev in the Protestant world… The other members of the committee were also, in their own way, remarkable individuals… Thus, through the efforts of the aforementioned individuals, the Charter of Theological Academies—with all its distinctive features—was drafted and approved by the highest authorities on May 30, 1869. One of the main features was the specialization and division of the subjects taught into three groups, or departments: theology, church history, and practical theology… The weaknesses of such a curriculum were soon apparent. These included the predominance of non-theological disciplines over theological ones in at least two departments—Church History and Church Practice—and the lack of a comprehensive theological education for students… The idea of specialization in theological academic education was, so to speak, in the air at that time and found almost universal acceptance… After its implementation, the new curriculum of the 1869 Charter bore much good and valuable fruit. Students began to take their studies—especially those in their respective departments—far more seriously than before… In general, a kind of lively, vibrant energy permeated all classroom sessions. This made the obvious excesses in the implementation of the—in essence—excellent and beneficial principle of specialization all the more regrettable, as did the premonition that the new Charter would be short-lived and the strong fear of a return to the former academic system, which, unfortunately, did indeed happen in 1884.”[1545]

In the new Charter, subjects were divided into compulsory and departmental courses—that is, those studied in one of the three departments mentioned above. Compulsory subjects included: 1) Holy Scripture; 2) Introduction to Theology; 3) Philosophy (logic, psychology, and metaphysics); 4) history of philosophy; 5) pedagogy; 6) one of the ancient languages and its literature; 7) one of the modern languages (French, German, or English). In the Department of Theology, the following were studied: 1) dogmatics and the history of dogmas; 2) moral theology; 3) comparative theology; 4) patristics; 5) ancient Hebrew; 6) biblical archaeology. The following subjects were specialized courses in the Department of Church History: 1) biblical history of the Old and New Testaments; 2) general church history; 3) history of the Russian Church; 4) history and critique of the Russian schism; 5) general secular history; 6) Russian history. Correspondingly, in the Department of Practical Theology: 1) pastoral theology; 2) homiletics; 3) history of preaching in the Orthodox Church and in the West; 4) ecclesiastical archaeology; 5) liturgics; 6) canon law; 7) theoretical literary studies and the history of Russian literature, including an overview of the most important works of foreign literatures; 8) Russian and other Slavic languages. The charter permitted the introduction of additional subjects with the consent of the Holy Synod. For example, at the Moscow Theological Academy, in place of the abolished Department of Physics and Mathematics, Professor D. F. Golubinsky (son of Archpriest F. A. Golubinsky) founded the Department of Natural Science Apologetics [1546] . The program was designed to last four years. All of the listed disciplines—both required courses and those specific to each department—were covered over the course of three academic years. Upon successful completion of the third year, students were awarded the degree of Candidate of Theology based on their qualifying thesis. Only those who received excellent grades on the final exam of the third year were admitted to the fourth year of the academy. During the fourth year, specialized practical lectures were held, and under the guidance of professors, students prepared for teaching at seminaries. At the same time, each student could choose the subjects that interested them—a significant improvement compared to the previous situation, when students’ personal interests were not taken into account when selecting a field of instruction. At the same time, during the fourth year of study, students wrote a master’s thesis on a specialty of their choice; after its public defense, the student received a Master of Divinity degree. The defense of a doctoral dissertation conferred the academic degree of Doctor of Divinity. Exams in both required courses and department-specific subjects were oral. This same rule applied to external students seeking an academic diploma or degree; they were also permitted to submit their master’s thesis no earlier than one year into their studies. Upon admission to the academy, applicants were required to present a certificate of successful completion of a seminary or gymnasium.

The academy’s faculty consisted of nine full professors and eight associate professors, eight assistant professors, and three instructors of modern languages; in addition, the Charter permitted the appointment of private lecturers. Thus, three instructors were designated for philosophy and the history of philosophy, one of whom was required to be a full professor. Lectures on the most important theological disciplines were also delivered by full professors. Private lecturers were adjunct instructors who were preparing to assume the position of associate professor or professor. To obtain a full professorship, a doctoral degree was required, while an associate professorship required a master’s degree in theology in one of the academic disciplines. The same requirement applied to non-theological disciplines: in such cases, a prospective full professor had to present a doctoral degree from one of the Russian universities. Overall, the new Charter called for a significant improvement in the qualifications of the teaching staff. Departments were formed through a secret ballot in which all members of the academic council participated. Candidates from other institutions of higher education who were unknown to the council were required to give trial lectures.

Although the new Charter granted the academies greater autonomy, it nevertheless retained the supreme authority of the Holy Synod over them, as well as the oversight of the respective diocesan bishops. The latter were responsible for overseeing the entire educational process; they presided over the Academic Council’s scholarly sessions and examinations. The bishops’ supervision also extended to the academy’s internal administration. Matters concerning the academy’s administration, as well as teaching and student guidance, fell under the jurisdiction of the Academic Council, while financial matters were the responsibility of the board of directors. The members of the Academic Council were: the rector (chairman), his three assistants for academic affairs, the inspector, and two full professors from each department. The most important issues regarding teaching and student guidance were decided not by the council, but by a general assembly consisting of all full and associate professors. At such meetings, in particular, elections were held to fill vacancies in the departments. The academy’s board consisted of the rector (chairman), the inspector, three assistants from the departments, and the treasurer, who served in a voluntary capacity. The diocesan bishop served as the higher authority, and the Holy Synod as the highest authority. The bishop had the right to make inquiries to the council chair, while the latter was required to submit reports on meetings and minutes to the bishop for his information. Prior to the 1869 reform, when appointing a rector, the diocesan bishop would nominate one candidate for the Holy Synod’s consideration, while the academy’s assembly would nominate two; the Synod almost always favored a candidate who was a monk and held a master’s degree. Under the new Charter, the rector was to be a member of the clergy; that is, he could also belong to the lay clergy, which from then on often occurred. A prerequisite was holding a doctorate in theology and lecturing at the academy on one of the academic subjects. In supervising the students—which was also part of the rector’s duties—the rector relied on an inspector selected from among the professors. In matters of instruction and discipline, he was assisted by three assistants, who served as a sort of deans of the departments. The most important issues were decided not by the rector alone, but by the academic council. Appointments to the positions of rector, his assistants, the inspector, and professors were approved by the Holy Synod. Each department of the academy had a committee of faculty members to discuss matters pertaining to the department, with final decisions on such matters being made by the Academic Council.

According to the 1869 Charter, individuals of any social class could be admitted to the academy provided they were of the Orthodox faith, presented a certificate of graduation from a seminary or classical gymnasium, and passed an entrance exam. The Academic Council had the right to admit auditors to lectures. Students of limited means who maintained good academic standing could study at the state’s expense, live in the academy’s dormitory ( ), and receive a stipend. Upon graduation, they were required to serve as teachers for one and a half years for each year of study, and only then, if they wished, could they transfer to service in another department.

At the Kazan Theological Academy, special elective lectures were organized for missionary work among Buddhists and Muslims, taught by full-time faculty members.

Along with the Academy’s Charter, new staffing regulations were adopted, resulting in a significant increase in professors’ salaries, which were brought in line with those of university professors [1547] .

With the permission of the Holy Synod, the Academy was granted the right to hold public lectures by its professors. Furthermore, it was permitted to establish scholarly societies, as well as to publish professors’ scholarly works and collections of sources and materials for the study of Christianity. In this regard, the Academy’s internal censorship was deemed sufficient. The previous provision, under which professors’ writings were subject to general ecclesiastical censorship, was repealed.

During the drafting of the new Charter, the Holy Synod considered the question of establishing a fifth theological academy in Vilna, which Governor-General M. N. Muravyov had petitioned the emperor to approve in 1863 as a means of combating Catholicism and strengthening Orthodoxy in the western regions. When Metropolitan Filaret was consulted on this matter in 1864, he spoke out against such a move, arguing, first, there were not enough teachers even for the existing four academies, and second, that to achieve the goals outlined by Muravyov, it was far more important to have good parish priests, whom seminaries could train [1548] .

Subsequently, not only the supporters but also the opponents of the new academic charter stepped up their activities. One of its most outspoken critics was Archbishop Anthony Amfiteatrov of Kazan [1549] . Metropolitan Filaret was particularly dissatisfied with the seminary charter. Somewhat later, Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov of Tver sent several letters full of bitter criticism to K. P. Pobedonostsev, who had recently been appointed Chief Prosecutor; these letters added fuel to the fire and, as far as possible, further intensified the Chief Prosecutor’s negative attitude toward the reforms that had been carried out [1550] . Alongside the undoubtedly positive results—namely, the brilliant rise of theological scholarship—the shortcomings of the new academic charter soon became clearly apparent: the academies turned into a sort of training ground for scholarly theologians, while the extremely important task of preparing a scientifically educated clergy took a back seat. This was precisely the focus of the main criticism leveled by opponents of the Charter [1551] .

The 1869 Charter granted the secular clergy access to the rectorship of the academies, thereby ending the hegemony of the scholarly monastic order. Ober-Procurator Count D. A. Tolstoy, an opponent of the scholarly monastic order, facilitated the appointment of representatives of the secular clergy to the positions of rectors. Thus, Archpriest I. L. Yanyshev (1866–1883) became rector of the St. Petersburg Academy, having taken office even before the new Charter came into effect. From 1864 until his death in 1875, the Moscow Academy was headed by Archpriest and Professor A. V. Gorsky. Following a brief tenure as rector by Archimandrite Mikhail Luzin (1876–1878), Archpriest S. K. Smirnov (1878–1886) became rector there, stepping down after the reform of 1884. Archpriest A. P. Vladimirsky served as rector of the Kazan Academy from 1871 to 1895 [1552] . The number of secular professors at the academies increased significantly, and even the counter-reform of 1884 could no longer change this situation. The specialization of higher education allowed professors to prepare their successors in advance from among the most talented students, who remained at the academy after graduation—initially as assistant professors. All these factors significantly weakened the position of the scholarly monastic community in the theological academies.

b) In 1881, Alexander III ascended the throne, which signaled the imminent end of the statutes of 1867–1869. Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev fully shared the emperor’s distrust of all the reforms of the 1860s. S. Runkevich, the official historian of the Russian Church, refers to the measures taken at that time as an “amendment” to the statutes [1553] . It was all the easier for Pobedonostsev to decide on this kind of “amendment” because he was well aware of the bishops’ conservative stance: by undertaking the “amendment,” he was, as it were, heeding the “voice of the Church.” In 1882, a new committee was established to discuss the charters of theological educational institutions, headed by the conservative Archbishop Sergius Lyapidevsky of Kishinev [1554] . At the same time, Pobedonostsev was by no means sympathetic to the scholarly monastic order, whose position within the hierarchy he sought to undermine in order to eliminate any possibility of resistance to his authoritarian ecclesiastical-political regime. This explains the inclusion among the members of the new committee of secular professors from theological academies—a move that, at first glance, appears liberal [1555] . The committee’s work was completed by the end of 1883 and submitted to the Holy Synod for discussion and approval. Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov of Tver describes the course of the discussion in his diary: “His Eminence Metropolitan Ioannikios of Moscow (a member of the Holy Synod—I. S.) privately invited His Eminence Leontios of Kholm and Warsaw (Lebedinsky, also a member of the Synod— – I. S.) and me to form a commission to revise the draft Charter of Orthodox Theological Academies, drawn up in 1883 by a committee chaired by His Eminence Sergius, Archbishop of Kishinev. We were joined by the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, who was also the director of its chancellery… The meetings of our commission took place at the Trinity Metochion in the metropolitan’s chambers. They began on January 24 and continued until February 16. Over the course of five or six sessions, we carefully reviewed the draft Charter and made numerous changes and additions to it, though there were also many heated debates. On certain issues, I disagreed with the other members of the commission and requested that my views be submitted for the consideration of the Holy Synod, but my request was ignored. At the conclusion of the sessions toward the end of Cheese Week, it was proposed that we meet again during the second week of Great Lent to finalize our deliberations on the comments we had made regarding the draft Charter; but for reasons unknown to me, this proposal was not carried out. Meanwhile, at the end of Lent, the draft Charter for the academies that we had prepared was submitted by Metropolitan Ioannikios to the Holy Synod for signature. Metropolitans Isidore and Plato signed it without even glancing at the notebook in which it had been neatly transcribed; His Eminence Jonah of Yaroslavl, who had not participated in our commission, would have liked to read this draft, but was unable to do so (? – I. S.). Thus, the draft signed by the members of the Synod was submitted through the Chief Prosecutor for the Emperor’s consideration and was approved on April 20, 1884. “This is how such important church-state reforms are carried out in our country”[1556] . Then, on August 22, 1884, the Emperor signed the new Charter for Theological Seminaries [1557] . Along with the new charters, the Office of the Chief Prosecutor published “Explanations to the Draft Charter of Orthodox Theological Academies” (St. Petersburg, 1884). The very first page states that the purpose of the new Charter is to simplify the management of the academies, to establish a more appropriate division of responsibilities among governing bodies, and to strengthen the administrative authority of each of them. This signaled a return to the well-known views of Metropolitan Filaret. The same trend, aimed at abolishing self-governance and the principle of election in theological educational institutions, is also evident in the 1884 Charter of Seminaries [1558] . Compared to the 1867 Charter, the powers of diocesan bishops with regard to seminaries have been significantly expanded here. Furthermore, § 14 adds that the bishop “has supreme oversight over the direction of instruction, the education of students, and, in general, the implementation of these Statutes at the seminary.” § 23 abolishes the election of rectors, who are now once again appointed; the inspector is also not elected but appointed by the Holy Synod. Paragraph 92 stipulates that the two members of the seminary’s teaching council from among the clergy, who had previously been elected, are henceforth appointed by the diocesan bishop. The following new subjects are introduced into the curriculum: biblical history, the history of the Russian schism, and apologetics, as well as comparative theology and trigonometry. In the philosophy course, logic and psychology are retained, while the overview of philosophical doctrines and pedagogy are replaced by the fundamentals and a brief history of philosophy, as well as didactics. The number of hours devoted to Russian literature is increased at the expense of philosophy, mathematics, and ancient languages. The study of new languages becomes optional. In the interest of religious and moral education, instruction in church singing is strengthened, and the position of seminary spiritual director is introduced. The seminary, as stated in § 1, is “an educational and formative institution for preparing young men for service in the Orthodox Church,” that is, for positions in the lower ranks of the church hierarchy, whereas the 1814 Charter set the goal of providing an education to young men from the clergy [1559] .

The same principles are characteristic of the charters of the academies, whose purpose was “to provide higher theological education in the spirit of Orthodoxy for enlightened service in the Church in pastoral, spiritual-educational, and other fields of activity”[1560] . The academies’ dependence on diocesan bishops, who were entrusted with overseeing them in a supervisory capacity, increased. Although, in theory, the secular clergy retained access to the position of rector, in practice, after 1884, the Holy Synod appointed only scholarly monks as rectors of the academies. Now the rector was not required to hold a professorial position; it was sufficient for him simply to teach some theological discipline. It was recommended that the inspector and his assistant be members of the clergy. Candidates for vacant professorships were approved by the Holy Synod upon the recommendation of the bishop; as before, holding an academic degree was a requirement. The authority of the academic council and the board of directors was curtailed, and their dependence on the diocesan bishop was strengthened.

Significant changes were made to the new curricula, aimed primarily at reducing specialization. The division of disciplines into three departments was abolished. From then on, there were required courses and thematically grouped elective courses. Students no longer chose specializations as a foundation for future scholarly work but instead prepared to teach in seminaries. The program was designed to last four years, with the fourth year no longer having the specific objectives it had previously. The number of term papers was increased from six to nine. The master’s thesis in the fourth year was written concurrently with the regular term paper. The required courses were: 1) Introduction to Theology (replacing the previous “Fundamentals” course, but retaining approximately the same content); 2) Holy Scripture and Biblical History; 3) dogmatics; 4) moral theology; 5) homiletics and the history of preaching; 6) pastoral theology and pedagogy, which had previously been among the specialized subjects; 7) canon law; 8) History of the Universal Church prior to the schism, replacing the former general church history, along with the history of the Orthodox Eastern Church and the Russian Church; 9) Patristics; 10) Ecclesiastical archaeology and liturgy; 11) Philosophy: a) logic, psychology, metaphysics; b) history of philosophy. Comparative theology was removed from the curriculum. The elective subjects in the first group included: 1) linguistic theory and the history of foreign literatures; 2) Russian and Church Slavonic with paleography and the history of Russian literature; 3) Ancient Hebrew and biblical archaeology; 4) one ancient and one modern language. The second group included: 1) history and analysis of Western denominations (replacing the former comparative theology, but with a greater emphasis on criticism); 2) history and criticism of the Russian schism; 3) general secular history; 4) the history of Russia; 5) one ancient and one modern language. The Kazan Academy also had a group of missionary disciplines with Tatar and Mongolian departments. Students who chose this group were exempt from studying subjects from one of the two groups mentioned above, at their discretion, with the exception of one ancient and one modern language. The Tatar department taught: 1) the history and criticism of Islam; 2) the ethnography of the Tatars, Kyrgyz, Bashkirs, Chuvash, Cheremis, Votyaks, and Mordvins; 3) the history of the spread of Christianity among these non-Russian peoples; 4) the Arabic and Tatar languages, along with a general philological overview of the languages and dialects of the aforementioned peoples. The curriculum of the Mongolian department included: 1) the history and critique of Lamaism; 2) the ethnography of the Mongols, Buryats, Manchus, Koreans, Golds, Gilyaks, and others; 3) the history of the spread of Christianity among the aforementioned peoples; 4) the Mongolian language, including its dialects, and a general philological overview of the languages and dialects of the listed peoples. These measures contributed to significant progress in missionary work.

The full-time faculty included 8 ordinary professors, 9 extraordinary professors, 9 associate professors, and 3 modern language instructors. The faculty of the Kazan Academy was expanded in connection with the organization of a missionary group. Twenty-five years of service entitled professors to the title of Distinguished Full Professor or Distinguished Associate Professor, along with special employment status and a special salary. In 1894, salaries and pensions for faculty members at academies and seminaries were increased, and the following year, a special uniform was introduced for students and seminarians [1561] .

The charter for the academies took effect in the 1884–1885 academic year, and the new charter for the seminaries took effect in 1885–1886. There were no instructors available to teach the course on the history and critique of the Russian schism, and therefore it was introduced only gradually beginning in 1886. As an elective subject, with separate funding, the history and critique of sectarianism was introduced in the seminaries of those dioceses that had suffered particularly from the spread of sects. Even earlier, in 1884, the new charter for district theological schools came into effect, and in 1882, that for diocesan girls’ schools.

In the 1890s, plans to establish a fifth academy in Vilnius resurfaced; however, they were once again rejected, partly due to an unfavorable review by the Archbishop of Lithuania, Alexy Lavrov [1562] . By 1900, Russia had 4 theological academies, 58 seminaries, 185 theological schools, and 56 diocesan girls’ schools, all funded by the dioceses, along with 13 that fell under the jurisdiction of Empress Maria Feodorovna. In 1900, the Holy Synod spent over 8 million rubles on theological education, of which 3 million were provided by the diocesan clergy [1563] .

According to the new Charter, seminaries and academies remained open, as before, to individuals of all social classes. Graduates of a seminary or a classical gymnasium were required to pass an entrance exam upon admission to an academy. The right of seminary graduates to enroll in universities, which had existed since 1863, was revoked in 1879. In 1884, this ban was reaffirmed, but in 1897, seminarians were granted access to the universities of Warsaw, Dorpat (Yuryev), and Tomsk.

Public opinion regarding the new statutes was divided: positive assessments in conservative newspapers and journals were countered by negative ones—to the extent permitted by censorship—in the liberal press. Academy professors, concerned about the future of scholarship, were for the most part dissatisfied with the abolition of the specialization introduced in 1869, which had contributed to the development of theological scholarship. For example, V. V. Bolotov, a professor at the St. Petersburg Academy, wrote in a private letter: “The new charter has brought darkness… it leads to scholarly barrenness.” The 1884 charter, wrote N. A. Zaozersky, a professor at the Moscow Academy, in 1892, reduced the academy’s objectives to a minimum. The Academy was reduced to an educational and formative institution, a theological school, albeit one of the higher education type [1564] . In 1905–1906, during the work of the Pre-Council Assembly, criticism of the 1884 statutes intensified significantly during discussions on the reform of theological education [1565] . In assessing these critical voices, one must bear in mind that the rise in the academic standards of the academies—a consequence of the 1869 statutes—benefited the entire Orthodox Church, regardless of whether this was the intention of the statutes’ authors or not. The 1884 statute abandoned long-term goals, limiting itself to setting objectives on a local, Russian scale. Its focus was not so much on the scholarly education of the future clergy and teachers of the Russian Church as on the training of politically and religiously reliable church administrative personnel, who were also expected to supply instructors for secondary and lower-level theological educational institutions. The diminishing role of the academies as scholarly institutions was also evident in the abolition of public defenses during the awarding of academic degrees. Now, to obtain a doctorate or master’s degree in theology, two (rarely more) reviews of the dissertation were sufficient; in addition, a master’s candidate was required to defend his thesis before an assembly of full and associate professors. In 1889, special regulations were issued that expanded the Holy Synod’s authority in matters of awarding academic degrees. In 1884, three categories of master’s and doctoral degrees were established: theology, church history, and canon law. The result of the intensified censorship under Pobedonostsev was a noticeable decline in the academic level of theological research [1566] .

c) In the second half of the 19th century and at the beginning of the 20th century, the charters of the academies and seminaries determined the development of these educational institutions to a greater extent than had been the case previously. At the same time, the charters of 1867–1869 had entirely different effects on the life of the academies and seminaries. While the seminaries had to contend with the downsides of the freedoms they had gained, in the academies these freedoms led to a revival of scholarly interest among the student body; thanks to the specialization system in place until 1884, this group produced a number of outstanding scholars and professors.

After Alexander II’s reform, seminary students flocked to universities. The number of applicants to the academies declined, but the selection process became more rigorous. The decrease in the number of candidates for the priesthood was an alarming sign, and, in all likelihood, it was precisely this that served as the main reason for reinstating the ban on seminary students enrolling in universities. The clergy increasingly exercised their right to educate their sons in gymnasiums in order to secure secular careers for them and spare them the financial hardships of a parish priest or a teacher at a seminary or theological school. Previously, such a choice had not been available. The seminary came to be viewed as a caste-based educational institution. “When access to the university was closed to seminary students by the requirement that they hold high school diplomas,” wrote a former seminarian in his memoirs, “their personal drive completely collapsed. Since then, the seminary has turned into a kind of bleak institution, a sort of dungeon guarded by the purely police-like supervision of inspectors who cared only about getting through their shift as quickly as possible, attend prayer, and herd the students into their dorms without checking whether they had prepared their lessons or overcome all their difficulties”[1567] . During the Nikolayev era, seminarians stoically endured the seminary’s flawed pedagogy and its strictures, for that was the way of things everywhere, and punishment was accepted with resignation if it seemed just. Starting in the 1860s, a breath of freedom began to blow within the seminary walls, especially in the upper grades. It was a time of peasant emancipation and the easing of police surveillance, which under Nicholas I had weighed heavily on all social classes. When a seminarian returned home for vacation—even if he came from the family of a rural priest— , he would hear about new ideas and might glance through church journals buzzing with debate. Beginning in the 1850s, students at seminaries—as well as at gymnasiums and universities—increasingly took part in political events, and even socialist ideas began to find their way into the seminaries [1568] . We find interesting evidence of this in the memoirs of Metropolitan Evlogiy Georgievsky (1868–1916), who, in the 1880s, while a seminary student in Tula, fell under the influence of Narodnik ideology along with his classmates [1569] .

These oppositional sentiments were also noted in the reports of the chief prosecutors. For example, a report from 1870 stated that the behavior of seminary students showed signs of coarseness, manifested in disobedience toward their superiors; an insufficient development of religious sentiment led to a neglect of prayer and inattentive behavior during church services [1570] . This state of affairs was entirely consistent with the prevailing mindset among all of Russia’s student youth at the time, which was referred to as nihilism in contemporary and later literature. It was the spirit of the times, rooted not so much in shortcomings of education as in the reverence for the natural sciences characteristic of Russia in the 1860s, and this spirit demanded blind adherence to “scientific” criticism of religion. Underdeveloped Orthodox apologetics was essentially powerless to counter attacks on the faith, and in a seminary there could be no question of a well-reasoned and convincing apologetic refutation of erroneous conclusions drawn from facts of the natural sciences. Moreover, the teachers themselves—especially the younger ones—were at times simply spellbound by the philosophy of Darwinism, positivism, and materialism [1571] . On the other hand, many seminary teachers took no interest whatsoever in the inner lives of their students. Old pedagogical models proved completely unsuitable for the new era. However, setting aside the spirit of the times, the responsibility for the youth’s indifference toward faith, according to Metropolitan Evlogii, lay with the teachers, who showed too little concern for their students and had little influence on them: “The administration was neither good nor bad; it was simply distant from us… The administration persecuted seminarians for having mustaches (only one of two options was permitted: either to be clean-shaven or unshaven; a mustache without a beard was not allowed), but no one was interested in our intellectual and spiritual needs or in how each of our fates was unfolding… The seminarians gained nothing soul-enriching from the state-mandated curriculum. There was no friendly assistance to be expected from the teachers… Under such conditions, the seminary could not be an alma mater for anyone. Those who graduated simply shook off its dust”[1572] . A few years later, in a letter from an official of the Office of the Chief Prosecutor to one of the bishops regarding the disturbances at certain seminaries in 1893, the following can be read: “The cause of the disturbances is the tactlessness of the inspectors and the inexperience of the rectors… Our assistant inspectors are, in fact, the police, not educators”[1573] . And how could a relationship of trust between teachers and students have developed amid constant changes in rectors and inspectors? Between 1867 and 1869, before Pobedonostsev was appointed Chief Prosecutor, the situation began to improve, but under Pobedonostsev, a rector could remain in the same position for no more than three years.

In 1886, at the Tiflis Seminary—whose students were almost entirely local—unrest broke out due to the policy of Russification carried out by the Exarch of Georgia, Archbishop Pavel Lebedev (1882–1887), leading to the murder of the rector [1574] . In 1893, unrest recurred at this seminary. That same year, disturbances broke out at the seminaries in Smolensk, Moscow, Mogilev, and Chernigov. In 1895, an uprising occurred at the Vladimir Seminary, accompanied by an assassination attempt on the rector, Archimandrite Nikon of Sofia, so that the frightened authorities even demanded that troops be called in against the students. The future Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky, who was appointed inspector of the seminary following these events , reports in his memoirs that the cause of the unrest was the police-style educational system upheld by the rector and the inspector. For the same reason, in 1897, unrest swept through the Tula Seminary [1575] . Under the influence of the revolutionary sentiments of 1905–1907, a veritable wave of unrest swept through the seminaries. In 18 seminaries, the situation escalated into serious clashes, but even in others, there were constant skirmishes between faculty and students, who refused to participate in classes and boycotted certain teachers [1576] .

These events unequivocally demonstrated that the entrenched educational system—which Pobedonostsev had made even more rigid—failed to meet pressing pedagogical challenges and was incapable of preparing young people, swept up in the spirit of the times, for the priestly ministry that awaited them. But even beyond the actual training of teachers, the seminaries proved inadequate even for purely didactic tasks. According to one of its members, Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich, as early as 1887 the Holy Synod had a “generally low opinion” of the level of the seminaries [1577] ; yet the Synod limited itself to issuing circulars on minor issues, taking no action to reform the educational system itself. This situation persisted until 1906, when preliminary work on a general church reform began. Now the issue of the inadequacy of theological education became the subject of public debate, with participants seeking ways to rouse the theological school from the lethargic state in which it had been languishing. This task was also urgent from a practical standpoint. Here is what Metropolitan Evlogii writes about the period from 1903 to 1913: “Our theological seminaries were not producing a sufficient number of candidates for the priesthood… Many seminarians, especially in Siberia, did not wish to be ordained. The Blagoveshchensk Seminary did not produce a single priest in 10 years. Religious enthusiasm in the seminary had faded; young people were flocking to civil service, to gold mines, and to industrial enterprises”[1578] .

We have insufficient information regarding the development of the educational process itself in the second half of the 19th century and the early 20th century: historical studies written before 1917 cover, at best, only up to the early 1880s. The only thing that can be stated with certainty is that the introduction of the 1869 Charter of the Academies led to an improvement in the quality of education, since academy graduates who became seminary instructors now possessed a more solid academic background. The new textbooks—compiled partly at the behest of the Holy Synod and partly on the professors’ own initiative, and which gradually replaced the outdated manuals—were quite sound from an academic standpoint. But the restructuring of education in the seminaries proceeded slowly: as late as 1906, they provided ample grounds for criticism from the Pre-Council Assembly and the press [1579] .

d) The theological academies responded to the reforms more quickly and actively. The atmosphere there was entirely different from that in the seminaries; every seminarian sensed this the moment he crossed the threshold of his new alma mater. The contrast was stark, and it is not surprising that to some memoirists the academy seemed like a shining beacon, while their seminary past appeared—exaggeratedly—gloomy. A comparison of memoirs shows that in the second half of the 19th century, the academies developed much more dynamically and purposefully than in the first half of the century. The reform of 1869 transformed the academies into true institutions of higher learning in theological science. As one student of the post-reform Moscow Academy (who enrolled in 1876) acknowledged: “Little by little, we became convinced that here, at the academy, there was no ‘Chinese-style’ rigidity, no stagnant swamp, but life— —admittedly somewhat peculiar, but life nonetheless, rich in inner substance, properly structured, by no means detached from the world, and not enslaved by lifeless forms”[1580] . Here is how another student—this time from the Kyiv Academy—recalls his studies from 1880 to 1884: “The spiritual academy made a completely different impression (than the seminary. — I. S.) was made on me by the Theological Academy prior to 1884, into which, thank God, I was fortunate enough to be admitted in 1880. There I found light and joy after all the bitter days I had endured; there I encountered living people with intellect, heart, and noble sentiments, and my soul felt light and joyful. There I developed an interest in scholarship and noble, voluntary labor… Most of them (instructors and professors. – I. S.) sincerely loved their work; they labored and loved us as their living field, which they wished to cultivate so that it would be fruitful and productive”[1581] . Vladimir Solovyov, who, after graduating from Moscow University in 1873, enrolled as a student at the Moscow Theological Academy, noted in one of his letters that “the academy, in any case, is not as utterly devoid of substance as the university”[1582] .

At the same time, memoirs also attest to how the 1884 Charter stifled this new vitality in the academies. Professor N. N. Glubokovsky described the “decline” of the academies during his time as a student at the Moscow Academy (1884–1889): it was a time when “a living organism was turning into a mechanical assembly”[1583] . Here are the recollections of another student from those years: “Starting in 1884, the academies turned into something like repetitive seminar courses. Students were burdened with a multitude of subjects and lectures, which it was physically impossible to thoroughly grasp; and therefore, naturally, they lost the idealism that, in most cases, had prevailed in the academies prior to 1884 and by which they had distinguished themselves from other institutions of higher learning, as befitted a higher theological school”[1584] . In the 1869 Charter, as in the post-reform period as a whole, two issues caused particular dissatisfaction among the Holy Synod and conservative hierarchs: the strengthening of the principles of self-governance in science and education, and the transfer of leadership of the three academies (this did not happen at the Kyiv Academy) into the hands of the white clergy. As early as 1874–1875, the Holy Synod conducted an audit of all the academies; it was conceived as a means of countering the reform, but its effectiveness proved to be quite limited because, at the insistence of the Chief Prosecutor, a “liberal” and supporter of the 1869 Charter—the then-Archbishop of Lithuania, Makarii Bulgakov [1585] —was appointed as auditor. The Holy Synod launched fierce attacks against the ever-increasing use of scientific and critical methods in research and teaching [1586] . This had already met with opposition from Metropolitan Filaret and the Synod even before the introduction of the 1869 Charter, and Chief Prosecutor Pobedonostsev, immediately upon taking office, warned of an impending “strict directive to all academies and the imposition of responsibility on rectors for the direction of teaching” regarding this matter [1587] . In the 1884 Charter, this threat was carried out. This was followed by a change in the leadership of the teaching staff. According to one of the critics of the Pobedonostsev era, Professor N. N. Glubokovsky, experienced, knowledgeable people who had devoted themselves to the teaching profession—who saw it as their calling and were deeply committed to it—quickly began to disappear from the scene. They were replaced by young archimandrites, abbots, and hieromonks. Not without a touch of sarcasm, the memoirist concludes that the time had come for “inexperienced mechanics among the black-robed monks”[1588] . Thus, with the enactment of the 1884 Charter, the restoration of the hegemony of the scholarly monastic order began; with the support of the Holy Synod and the chief procurators Pobedonostsev and Sabler, it gradually reclaimed its leading positions in the theological school.

In terms of numbers, the scholarly monastic community had been steadily declining since the 1860s, as only a few academy graduates agreed to take monastic vows; in the 1870s and 1880s, this trend intensified even further [1589] . With the return of the rectorship of the academies to the scholarly monastic community, students began to be persistently pressured to take monastic vows. At the St. Petersburg Academy, this practice was revived during the rectorship of Bishop Arseny Bryantsev (1883–1887), who had become a monk after his wife’s death. Anthony Vadkovsky, who later became Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, was particularly zealous in this regard. For several years, he served as an inspector at the academies in Kazan (1883–1886) and St. Petersburg (1886–1888), where he later became rector (1888–1892); during his time in St. Petersburg, Anthony tonsured at least 17 students as monks [1590] , among whom were two outstanding figures of the Russian Church in later years—Anthony Khrapovitsky and Sergius Stragorodsky, both zealous advocates of scholarly monasticism. Each of the three hierarchs mentioned had his own view of the role of monasticism in the Russian Church, but all of them did much to revive the desire for monastic ordination among academy students. As a typical and committed representative of the new generation of scholarly monasticism, Anthony Khrapovitsky is undoubtedly the foremost among them.

Alexei Pavlovich Khrapovitsky came from a noble family. After graduating from a classical gymnasium, he—being a religious man—enrolled in the St. Petersburg Theological Academy and, in 1885, at the age of 22, took monastic vows. The following year, immediately after graduating from the academy, he was appointed assistant inspector there. He then served as a teacher at the Kholm Seminary for just under a year, after which he returned as an assistant professor to the St. Petersburg Academy, where he was appointed inspector. A few months later, he was already rector of the St. Petersburg Seminary (1890) and, in the same year, rector of the Moscow Academy; he was only 27 years old at the time. “A new head has arrived—lively, gifted, and a fine orator. However, he is very young. May God grant that he successfully carry out the difficult task to which he has been called,” wrote one of the academy’s most senior professors, N. I. Subbotin, in a private letter; Anthony retained the qualities mentioned here until the end of his long life, and they left their mark on his entire ecclesiastical and political activity [1591] . Meanwhile, Metropolitan Sergius Lyapidevsky of Moscow, a representative of the old Filaret school, did not take much of a liking to the young rector of his academy, and in 1895 Anthony was transferred to the same position at the Kazan Academy [1592] , where he remained until his appointment in 1900 as Bishop of Ufa; and thus began the ecclesiastical and political phase of his career (see §§ 9, 12).

Antony’s works left a deep mark on both academies. As early as 1889, he published an article on scholarly monasticism, which was widely circulated among the student body. At both academies, he organized study groups where students delivered presentations and sermons and engaged in discussions. Anthony’s goal was to break down the barrier between himself and the students. During his tenure as rector of the Moscow Academy from 1888 to 1892, the future Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky studied there. In later years, the paths of these two hierarchs often crossed: at times they were allies, at times opponents, and in the end—even enemies. This circumstance should be kept in mind when reading the excerpt below from Evlogii’s *Memoirs*; Evlogii himself took monastic vows under the influence of the young rector and describes the change in the students’ attitudes—who until then had by no means sympathized with monasticism—that occurred under Anthony’s influence: “It is no exaggeration to say that a new era had begun for the Moscow Theological Academy. Archimandrite Anthony’s influence on us was immense. Young, highly educated, talented, and charming—and having dreamed of becoming a monk since the age of ten—Archimandrite Anthony was a fervent advocate of monasticism. His ardent monastic spirit was infectious, captivating, and set hearts ablaze… Thanks to him, monasticism in our minds rose to the ideal of a united, strong brotherhood—an order, an army of Christ—destined to save the Church from the procurator’s office and restore to it its rightful place as the independent educator and spiritual guide of the Russian people. Grand prospects unfolded before our eyes: the restoration of the patriarchate, the introduction of new ecclesiastical principles, the reorganization of the academy in a strictly ecclesiastical spirit… Archimandrite Anthony promoted the idea of monasticism among us with true fanaticism. In him, this was combined with misogyny. He painted a picture of family life and marital relations in gloomy, even sordid tones—and his propaganda was successful… An entire evening was spent in heated discussions about monasticism. At times, the speeches took on a cynical tone… The result of this new spirit at the academy was a wave of tonsures. The revival of monasticism in Russia is associated with the names of Anthony Khrapovitsky and Anthony Vadkovsky (Metropolitan of St. Petersburg). In the academies, the best students had long been viewed as future monks, but the monastic path had long since ceased to attract young people, and isolated cases of tonsure did not create a movement. Now, however, young people aged 23–24 were flocking to this path. Archimandrite Anthony took vows indiscriminately and ruined more than one life and soul… Some of those he tonsured later drank themselves to death. My classmate, Father Ioann Rakhmanov, ended his life as a vagrant as a result of an ill-advised tonsure. Hieromonk Tarasius, a gifted idealist who had graduated with honors from the Kazan Academy, rejected a career and went to the Zaretuy prison; cheerful and lively, he met a tragic end: he took to drinking, and was found dead (from alcohol poisoning) in his room while serving as the caretaker of the Zaikonospassky Theological School in Moscow. “It happened that followers of Archimandrite Anthony wept on my shoulder as well,” said Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky of St. Petersburg… Entering monastic life to struggle against passions, for contemplation and meditation, is one thing; church and social work is another. We, the students of the academy, could not possibly be true, strict ascetic monks. Our academic teachers had not undergone prolonged ascetic training in monasteries. The usual path was as follows: straight from the school bench into theological education. Not everyone understood that church and community work is merely a form of monastic devotion”[1593] . Let us recall that Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich, several decades earlier, had already reported similar tragic stories of scholarly monks who, rashly, influenced by flowery rhetoric about monasticism, or deliberately, for career reasons—but in any case without an inner calling—became monks and perished [1594] .

Upon closer examination, it becomes clear that the wave of tonsures did not bring about a revival of scholarly monasticism, but merely increased its numbers. This meant little for the development of spiritual education and theology. Among those who took monastic vows in the 1980s and 1990s, only one significant theologian stands out—Sergius Stragorodsky [1595] . Anthony Khrapovitsky was able to inspire many, but he failed to raise a generation of monks with sound ascetic views. His unbridled youth and his temperament were completely unsuited to the role of a mentor to students. Metropolitan Evlogii also held a low opinion of Anthony’s pedagogical abilities: “The impassioned youth admired Archimandrite Anthony for his disrespect toward authorities, even those as indisputable as Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, not to mention contemporary professors, whom he honored with the crudest epithets; the youth regarded this as bold independence of judgment. Scathing, indiscriminate remarks were passed from mouth to mouth, and the students grew accustomed to speaking unceremoniously about the professors. The professors themselves were aware of this and, of course, greatly disliked their outspoken young rector and, in turn, harshly criticized him”[1596] . Moreover, Anthony’s exaltation of the scholarly monastic order further reinforced the barrier that had long separated the latter from the secular faculty of the academies.

Anthony’s views were fully in line with the 1884 Charter and the Holy Synod’s desire to limit, as much as possible, the influence of lay professors in theological educational institutions—both on scholarly work and on the teaching process. As a result of this trend, the number of instructors from the black and white clergy began to grow in the 1890s. As in Protasov’s time, under Pobedonostsev and Sablere, the monastic habit guaranteed a rapid rise in the teaching profession. In principle, Pobedonostsev sought to weaken the monastic order’s position within the Church, but he soon realized how easily he could steer the conservative and, to some extent, opportunistic monastic order in the direction of his church policy; individual strong and independent personalities found no support and therefore posed no threat to him.

At the same time, a one-sidedly negative assessment of Archimandrite Anthony’s academic work would be entirely unjust. Thanks to his efforts, much of what was threatened with complete extinction was revived. Above all, he spread the conviction everywhere that church reform was necessary, a conviction to which he remained faithful later on. Among the clergy at that time, only a few shared this idea, and its advocates could not count on Pobedonostsev’s favor [1597] .

There can be no justification for this campaign, organized by the episcopate against the secular professoriate, which had done so much for the development of science and education in the academies. To properly appreciate the work of secular professors, it suffices to point out how few scholars the black clergy—that is, the scholarly monastic order—were able to provide to academic departments in the second half of the 19th century. The efforts of secular professors resulted in a growing interest in scholarly work. Specialization, which developed following the Charter of 1869, greatly benefited all branches of theological scholarship and had a positive impact on education [1598] .

From 1866 to 1883, Archpriest I. L. Yanyshev, who taught moral theology, served as rector of the St. Petersburg Academy. Unlike his predecessors, he based his lectures not so much on Christian asceticism as on general ethical principles. This was in keeping with the trends of the time, and Yanyshev’s lectures were very successful. His successors in the chair, Professors L. A. Bronzov and S. M. Zarin, on the other hand, placed greater emphasis on the Church Fathers and the principles of Christian asceticism. For a long time, Professor A. L. Katansky († 1919) taught dogmatics at the St. Petersburg Academy; prior to that, after graduating from the St. Petersburg Academy, he had been an assistant professor at the Moscow Academy, where he taught liturgy and Christian archaeology . There he became close friends with A. V. Gorsky, who influenced him as a dogmatist. In his study of dogma, Katansky also drew upon the Church Fathers, which is why his lectures differed significantly from the dry scholasticism of Makarii Bulgakov. Among Church historians, Professor I. E. Troitsky (1834–1901) deserves special mention for his significant contributions to the development of this field. Troitsky was a prominent scholar who made a significant contribution to critical source criticism, the results of which he applied not only to the most important dogmas but also to elucidating the more obscure and, seemingly, secondary aspects of church life. In this capacity, having served as a professor at the St. Petersburg Academy since 1874, he sparked a renewed and vigorous interest in his field. Troitsky’s successor was his highly gifted student, Professor V. V. Bolotov (1854–1900). This remarkable scholar, who unfortunately died young, was the pride of Russian scholarship and, like A. V. Gorsky, was equally distinguished as both a researcher and a teacher. His research on specialized topics and his lectures on the era of the Ecumenical Councils reveal him to be a great historian and theologian. In his lectures, Bolotov abundantly incorporated the results of his own research, encouraged students to work independently, and tirelessly pointed out unresolved problems. And today, half a century later, his posthumously published lectures have lost none of their scholarly significance. Professor N. P. Rozhdestvensky (1840–1881) taught the Introduction to Theology course; prior to his professorship in St. Petersburg (1869–1881), he served as a bachelor of arts at the Kazan Academy from 1865 to 1869. Based on his lectures, he authored a major two-volume work, *Course in Fundamental Theology, or Christian Apologetics*, which until very recently served as the primary textbook for this discipline. M. I. Karinsky (1869–1917) taught philosophy for many years. True to the traditions of the Moscow Academy, where he had studied, he based his lectures on the fundamentals of the Christian faith and then analyzed philosophical teachings from this perspective. Even as a young assistant professor at the Moscow Academy, Karinsky managed to win the students’ favor. In 1870, he was sent by the St. Petersburg Academy to Göttingen, where he attended a series of lectures. Among the New Testament instructors, N. N. Glubokovsky (1863–1937) stood out—not only as a lecturer but also as a theologian. After graduating from the Moscow Academy, he served as an assistant professor from 1891 and as a professor at the St. Petersburg Academy from 1894 to 1918. Professor N. V. Pokrovsky (1848–1917) was a remarkable liturgist whose scholarly works focused on ecclesiastical archaeology and iconography. Church archaeology, which did not appear in academic curricula until 1869 and had been virtually unstudied until then, owes much to Pokrovsky. According to the Charter of 1910–1911, a special chair of liturgy was established, where Pokrovsky’s successor, Professor I. A. Karabinov († after 1918), worked on developing it as a historical and dogmatic discipline [1599] .

When speaking of the Moscow Academy during the period 1869–1917, one must first and foremost mention its rector, Archpriest A. V. Gorsky (1864–1875). His standing at the academy and in theological scholarship in general was, at that time, perhaps even higher than before. “Gorsky taught dogmatic theology not only in a scholarly manner, but also with a certain reverence,” wrote his student, the future Archbishop Nikolai Ziorov. “The rector’s lecture hall was always filled with students from both his own and other departments”[1600] . And even half a century later, his beneficial influence could still be felt [1601] . Under Gorsky, the entire life of the academy—both scholarly and educational— was shaped by the influence of his charismatic personality. Gorsky was a very modest man and, underestimating his own works, rarely published them. But personal interaction and correspondence with him were of immense importance to his contemporaries and students. When teaching dogmatics, unlike Makarii Bulgakov, he usually began with the history of individual dogmas. Perhaps the influence of Filaret Gumilevsky played a role here, but more likely, the reason was his own love of history.

As a philosopher, V. D. Kudryavtsev-Platonov (1828–1891)—a student of A. V. Gorsky and F. A. Golubinsky and the latter’s successor in the department (1854–1891)—had a great influence on the student body. A staunch idealist in his philosophical views, he was able to win over his students, for in his surprisingly harmonious personality, idealism was combined with deep religiosity and moral purity. He was one of those rare academic teachers who were able to earn respect and affection from the very beginning of their careers; both in his youth and in his old age, his personality captivated others with a kind of transparent clarity. As an author of scholarly works, he was not particularly prolific. “In Kudryavtsev’s books,” writes G. Florovsky, “one is captivated by this style of inner freedom, by the spiritual grace and nobility with which this man of unshakable faith conducts his speculative defense or justification of that faith, constructing his critical synthesis amid the inadequate solutions of other philosophical schools”[1602] . After Kudryavtsev-Platonov’s death, his student A. I. Vvedensky (1888–1912) succeeded him as chair. P. I. Gorsky-Platonov enjoyed great authority as a teacher; from 1878 to 1888, he also served as inspector of the academy. Over the course of his 37-year teaching career, he taught Ancient Hebrew (1858–1895), Biblical History (1858–1870), and Biblical Archaeology (1870–1892)[1603] .

A. V. Gorsky established a solid scholarly foundation for the teaching of church history at the academy. In the field of general church history, we should mention A. P. Lebedev; as a historian of the Russian Church—E. E. Golubinsky. Lebedev (1845–1908) was a prominent representative of that segment of the faculty that passionately defended the 1869 Charter, as it was directed against the scholarly monastic order and its dominance in the academies. As a man of his time (the 1860s and 1870s), he embodied the type known in Russia as the “liberal professor.” His lecturing and writing styles were characterized by liveliness, accessibility, and a penchant for popularizing complex ideas. Students loved him. He frequently drew upon Western church-historical literature and taught his students how to use it. Among his students was N. N. Glubokovsky, author of the remarkable church-historical monograph *Blessed Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrrhus. His Life and Literary Work” (Moscow, 1890, 2 vols.); later, he turned to the study of the New Testament. Due to disagreements with the scholarly monks at the academy, Lebedev left his chair in 1895 and moved to Moscow University. Taking a keen interest in ecclesiastical and political issues, he actively participated in the debates of 1905–1906 regarding church reform [1604] .

In the same year as Lebedev, E. E. Golubinsky (1832 or 1834–1912) left the academy. He was a scholar in the true sense of the word, a student of Gorsky who had mastered his teacher’s critical method. His lectures were rich in scholarly content and thus far removed from Lebedev’s popularizing style. He took the greatest care in preparing the next generation of scholars. In his work *History of the Russian Church*, Golubinsky raised numerous issues that required critical source-based study, thereby providing an extremely strong impetus for the emergence of a multitude of works on church history. Among his students, Professors N. F. Kapterev (1847–1917) and S. I. Smirnov (1870–1916) deserve special mention; both were also students of A. P. Lebedev and V. O. Klyuchevsky. After Golubinsky retired, Smirnov began teaching the history of the Russian Church in 1896; he was a prominent figure both as a researcher and as a teacher (until 1906, he was an associate professor; then an extraordinary professor; and from 1914, an ordinary professor [1605] ). Kapterev, who was also a student of Gorsky, like the latter, constantly drew upon materials from Russia’s political and social life, so that his lectures on general secular history contributed significantly to ecclesiastical-historical research [1606] .

The scientific-critical method applied by Golubinsky to church history also dominated his lectures, which caused discontent among conservative circles within the hierarchy. In 1881, the first part of the first volume of *History of the Russian Church* was submitted as a doctoral dissertation and received the approval of the academic council. However, the Holy Synod refused to approve it; approval was granted only the following year thanks to the energetic intervention of Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov of Moscow, who spoke out in defense of the author as a scholar. Golubinsky had repeatedly subjected Metropolitan Makarii’s works on church history to sharp criticism; nevertheless, it was none other than Makarii who provided the funds for the publication of the first volume of *History*. Meanwhile, the higher church leadership’s dissatisfaction with Golubinsky was growing; this was particularly clearly expressed in a letter from Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev to the rector of the Moscow Academy in 1883, in which a “biased celebration” in honor of the scholar’s 25th anniversary was declared undesirable. In 1895, Golubinsky voluntarily retired [1607] .

Ever since the first reform of 1808–1814, the Moscow Academy had earned a reputation as a leading institution, occupying a special place in the system of theological education and in the history of Russian theology.

The Kyiv Academy was the only one where, following the 1869 reform, the scholarly monastic community managed to retain the rectorship and overall leadership. In the history of the Kyiv Academy, a place of honor undoubtedly belongs to its long-serving rector, Archimandrite (later Bishop) Silvestr Malevansky (1883–1897), who, as a professor of dogmatic theology, contributed greatly to the development of this discipline [1608] . The work of V. F. Pevnitsky († 1911) was closely linked to the Academy; he served first (from 1860) as an assistant professor of ecclesiastical literature and then, for many years, as a professor of pastoral theology, homiletics, and the history of preaching. Nearly all the priests of the Kyiv and southern dioceses in the second half of the 19th and early 20th centuries were educated in his school. As an experienced educator who was also a prolific writer, he succeeded, more than at any other academy, in instilling in his students a genuine zeal for preaching. Beginning in the early 1860s, Pevnitsky published a large number of works in the academy’s *Proceedings* on issues concerning the Church and society, particularly on the 1869 reform and higher education. In 1905–1907, he actively participated in the preparation of the church reform [1609] . For several decades, moral theology was also taught by a layman—M. A. Olesnitsky, first as an associate professor and later as a professor in the Department of Moral Theology and Pedagogy. Like many of his contemporaries who taught at academies after 1860, he was deeply influenced by Protestant theology; his ethics were based primarily on the system of Ritschl (1822–1889). A conservative and a man of strict principles, Metropolitan Ioannikiy Rudnev (1891–1900) eventually forced the liberal ethicist to give up this subject and, starting in 1895, to limit himself to lectures on psychology [1610] . The Department of the History of the Russian Church was also headed by the same person—Professor I. I. Malyshevsky—for several decades, from 1861 to 1897. Long tenures were generally characteristic of the Kiev Academy, where changes in rectors also occurred relatively rarely: only twice during the period from 1859 to 1897. Another remarkable feature of the academy was that secular scholars continued to teach the main disciplines even after the 1884 Charter. M. G. Kovalnitsky taught general church history for nearly 30 years; he later took the monastic name Dimitri and became an archimandrite and bishop (he took monastic vows in 1898). After graduating from the Kyiv Academy, he first taught moral theology (1867–1869) as the predecessor to M. A. Olesnitsky, then general church history; later, he served as inspector (1895–1898) and rector of the academy (1898–1902). From 1902 to 1917, the rectors here were learned monks, who now changed frequently. Among the professors, the liturgist A. A. Dmitrievsky († after 1929) also deserves mention; he did much to advance this discipline, which had not received much attention in Russian academies [1611] .

The rector of the Kazan Academy in 1869 (the year of the reform) was Archimandrite Nikanor Brovkovich (1868–1871). He taught an introduction to theology entirely in the spirit of the reform: his lectures were distinguished by their polished form and rich content. Nikanor was a remarkable educator; according to Y. A. Bogoroditsky, he carefully and thoughtfully assessed the students’ abilities, character traits, and dispositions; he was an enemy of all dishonesty; he loved both external and internal (spiritual) beauty; and he was a humane, outgoing, and extremely energetic man in the work of teaching and education at the academy [1612] . According to the academy’s historian P. Znamensky, Nikanor Brovkovich possessed a talent for selecting truly gifted individuals from among the students to prepare them for scholarly and teaching careers [1613] . When he became vicar of the Don Diocese, the position of rector passed to Archpriest A. P. Vladimirsky (1821–1906) for a long 24 years, from 1871 to 1895; he turned out to be the last rector of the academy from the White clergy. According to P. Znamensky, his tenure as rector was a time of peace, prosperity, and happiness for the Kazan Theological Academy. When Archpriest Vladimirsky was honorably retired and became a member of the Educational Committee under the Holy Synod, his successor, as already mentioned, was the young Archimandrite Anthony Khrapovitsky [1614] . Pastoral Theology in Kazan was taught by A. V. Vadkovsky, who served first as an associate professor, then as a professor, and finally as an inspector, until he was transferred in 1886 to the position of inspector at the St. Petersburg Academy. He studied at the Kazan Academy, and even back then, Nikanor Brovkovich, while serving as rector, took notice of this talented student, who later gained renown as Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg [1615] . Professor P. V. Znamensky (1836–1910) is inextricably linked to the Kazan Academy, where he taught a course on the history of the Russian Church for 35 years. He is the author of a history of the academy covering the period from 1842 to 1870—the finest work on the history of Russian theological education. Znamensky pioneered the study of Peter I’s church reforms, and his works on the history of the parish clergy and theological schools continue to serve as a foundation for researchers to this day. For half a century, the history of the Russian Church was taught in nearly all seminaries using his textbook (1st ed. in 1870, last ed. in 1912). His lectures at the academy [1616] were also distinguished by their precision in form and substance. As a dogmatist, V. I. Nesmelov (1863–after 1917), who previously taught patristics [1617] , deserves mention. The study of the history of the Russian schism and the struggle against it took on special significance in Kazan thanks to the 40-year teaching career of Professor N. I. Ivanovsky (1840–1913). He was a fierce opponent of Old Belief and, in his lectures, waged a relentless struggle against all its shades and interpretations [1618] . The work of Professor N. F. Krasnoseltsov († 1898), a liturgist and ecclesiastical archaeologist, was highly successful. A. A. Dmitrievsky, a graduate of his school, first became an assistant professor at the Kazan Academy and later a professor at the Kiev Academy. In the late 1880s, Krasnosel’tsev accepted an invitation from Odessa University, where he continued his research on the history of Orthodox liturgy. Professor I. S. Berdnikov (1841–1914) taught canon law for more than 30 years, beginning in 1881. His lectures, rich in content, were published in two voluminous volumes. His particular area of interest was the relationship between the Church and the state in Byzantium and Russia [1619] .

Discussions of general church reform at the meetings of the Pre-Council Assembly could not avoid addressing issues of theological education. Liberal circles in society and among the clergy were naturally unwilling to accept the consequences of the 1884 Statute and the policies of K. P. Pobedonostsev, which nullified all the positive achievements of the 1867–1869 reform. However, discontent also prevailed among the more conservative hierarchs. Thanks to the general relaxation of censorship (1904–1905), religious journals were able to discuss the problems of church reform—including issues of theological education—with considerable freedom. In addition, the Holy Synod had accumulated many responses from bishops submitted in reply to its inquiries; in these responses, the task of reform in the sphere of theological education was addressed not only in broad terms but often in detail as well. Finally, numerous articles, pamphlets, and even books were devoted to this topic, authored by professors, bishops, seminary teachers, and others. A review of this extensive literature makes it easy to see that dissatisfaction with the situation prevailing in theological schools was widespread [1620] .

d) When the Pre-Council Assembly was dissolved by a specific decree, its educational department also ceased operations. As a result of the debates that had taken place, the deep contradictions between the secular faculty, on the one hand, and the scholarly monastic community and the episcopate, on the other, were once again laid bare. After 1906, a spirit of reaction and nationalism once again prevailed among the highest church leadership, reaching its peak under Chief Prosecutor V. K. Sabler (see §§ 7, 9). The Holy Synod’s suspicious oversight of theological education had a single goal: to suppress any “spirit of rebellion.”

Indeed, in 1905–1907, disturbances broke out in seminaries, sometimes even leading to assassination attempts on rectors or inspectors. In December 1906, the All-Russian Congress of Seminaries convened in Moscow, where it became clear that political organizations and circles numbering dozens of members existed in many seminaries. The Congress called for a struggle against the “outdated educational regime.” The situation was also turbulent in the academies. In 1908, the Holy Synod ordered an audit of the academies. Archbishop Dimitri Kovalnitsky of Kherson audited the Moscow and St. Petersburg Academies; Archbishop Arseny Stadnitsky of Pskov audited the Kazan Academy; and Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky of Volhynia audited the Kyiv Academy. Their reports to the Holy Synod were full of bitter criticism. Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky’s report was a lengthy and scathing indictment of the professors, who, in the archbishop’s view, were responsible for the “secularization” of the academies [1621] . In reality, however, leadership in the academies had belonged to the scholarly monastic community since 1884, so it would be more accurate to speak of their “ecclesiasticalization.”

Based on the auditors’ reports, the Holy Synod concluded that the 1884 Charter was entirely to blame, and on December 29, 1909, with the consent of Chief Prosecutor S. M. Lukyanov, it instructed the Educational Committee to revise the charters and review the staffing levels of academies, seminaries, and theological schools, with an emphasis on religious and moral education. The draft charter for the academies was the first to be completed, and very quickly at that. The State Duma’s debate on the Holy Synod’s budget was accompanied by sharp attacks on the church’s top leadership—a situation that did nothing to encourage the introduction of yet another bill into the Duma. The Chief Prosecutor and the Synod then decided to take advantage of the Easter recess to bypass the State Duma and, on the basis of Articles 87 and 65 of the Constitution, submit the new Charter of the Academies directly to the Emperor for approval on April 2, 1910. Amendments to the Charter of the Academies were made twice more—on July 29 and August 26, 1911—and each time, during the State Duma’s recess, they were signed directly by the Emperor on the basis of the same Articles 87 and 65 [1622] .

The 1910–1911 Charter provided a new definition of the academy: “Orthodox theological academies are closed higher ecclesiastical institutions, which, through Christian education and advanced Orthodox theological scholarship, prepare Christian-enlightened leaders for service to the Holy Orthodox Church, first and foremost in the field of pastoral ministry, and subsequently in other areas of spiritual activity, preferably within the priesthood” (§ 1). “The scope of the academies’ activities includes: 1) advanced scholarly study of theology on a church-based, strictly Orthodox foundation; 2) the teaching of theological sciences and certain non-theological disciplines necessary for a thorough scholarly study of theology in all its branches and for enlightened service to the Holy Church in pastoral, spiritual-educational, missionary, and other fields; 3) fostering in students a love for the Holy Church and its institutions, as well as devotion to the throne and the fatherland” (§ 2). This addition, introduced for the first time into the charter of theological educational institutions, was, as it were, a response to the liberal tendencies observed in 1905–1907 during discussions of church reform. The academies remained under the direct control and supervision of the diocesan bishops, but fell within the jurisdiction of the Holy Synod (§ 3), which appointed rectors and inspectors (§ 11). The bishop merely nominated a candidate for the position of rector, who was required to hold at least a master’s degree in theology and belong to the clergy; the right of appointment, however, was the prerogative of the Holy Synod (§ 34). Note 3 to this article states that only persons of monastic rank may serve as rectors of the Moscow and Kyiv Academies. The “Amendments” to the Charter of August 26, 1911, summarize this provision and clarify it definitively: “The rector of the academy, upon the recommendation of the local diocesan bishop, is appointed by the Holy Synod from among persons known to it for their merits, who hold an academic degree no lower than a Master of Divinity, and who hold the rank of bishop” (§ 34). The 1910 Charter contains a separate chapter on the relations between the Holy Synod and the academies (§§ 11–12). § 65 stipulates: “Faculty members of the academy may only be persons of the Orthodox faith, of a strictly Orthodox mindset and ecclesiastical orientation, preferably holding holy orders.” The election of a professor or instructor by the academic council required approval. If the Holy Synod rejected a candidate, the council had the right to submit a new one within six months. If this did not occur, the appointment was made at the discretion of the Holy Synod (§ 70), which generally reserved the right, if necessary, to appoint and dismiss professors and associate professors (§ 72). The regulation concerning “professorial fellows” remained unchanged (§ 73); two vacancies were reserved for monks who had graduated from the academy with honors (§ 76). § 86 supplements the first two paragraphs: “Instructors shall conduct their teaching in a strictly Orthodox spirit, directing their efforts toward instilling in the minds of students a reverence for the immutable truth of Orthodoxy and a readiness to serve the Holy Church. No deviations from this rule shall be tolerated.”

According to the 1910 Charter, the number of departments was increased, and practical classes (seminars) were organized for students based on the university model. Required courses were divided into compulsory and supplementary courses, which were grouped according to pedagogical or academic specialization. The Charter listed 14 general required subjects and 6 groups, but just one year later, the “Amendments” of August 29, 1911, established 17 general required subjects and 4 groups. The final version of the curriculum was designed for four years and included the following general required disciplines: 1) the New Testament; 2) the Old Testament; 3) patristics; 4) introduction to theology; 5) dogmatics; 6) moral theology; 7) pastoral theology, including asceticism and homiletics; 8) liturgy (initially classified as an elective subject); 9) ecclesiastical archaeology and the history of Christian art (also initially an elective); 10) the history and critique of schism; 11) the history and critique of sectarianism; 12) the history of the early Church; 13) the history of the Russian Church; 14) canon law; 15) systematic philosophy (a), logic (b); 16) psychology; 17) Greek (at the Moscow and St. Petersburg Academies) and Latin (at the Kiev and Kazan Academies). In addition, students had to choose between the history of philosophy and pedagogy; French, German, and English were offered as elective courses.

Students were required to choose one of the following four specialization groups. Group 1: the history of Russia, the history of the Greek-Eastern Church from the time of the schism with the Western Church to the present day, and, in addition: the history of the Slavic Churches (for the Kiev, Moscow, and Kazan Academies—in general terms, in detail for the St. Petersburg Academy) and the history of the Georgian and Armenian Churches (for the St. Petersburg Academy), as well as the history of the Western Russian Church (i.e., the Kyiv Metropolis in the 14th–17th centuries)—exclusively for the Kyiv Academy. Group 2: Biblical history in conjunction with ancient history, the ancient Hebrew language, and biblical archaeology (at the St. Petersburg Academy—a two-year course consisting of 10 lecture hours). Group 3: Church Slavonic and Russian languages, history of Russian literature. Group 4: history and criticism of Western denominations in connection with the history of the Western Church, beginning in 1054. The Kazan Academy also had two additional groups, or departments: Tatar and Mongolian. Tatar Group: History and Criticism of Islam; ethnography of the Tatars, Kyrgyz, Bashkirs, Chuvash, Cheremis, Votyaks, and Mordvins; history of the spread of Christianity among these peoples; Arabic and Tatar languages with a general philological overview of the languages of these peoples. Mongolian Group: History and Criticism of Lamaism; ethnography of the Mongols, Buryats, Kalmyks, Ostyaks, Samoyeds, Yakuts, Tungus, Manchus, Koryaks, Golds, Gilyaks, Koreans, and others; the history of the spread of Christianity among these peoples; the Mongolian (Buryat and Kalmyk) language; the Tibetan language. Students at the Kazan Academy who chose one of these groups were exempted from studying one of the following required subjects: history and critique of schism, history and critique of sectarianism, history of philosophy and pedagogy, systematic philosophy and logic, or Greek or Latin (§§ 132 and 133).

Seminarians who completed their course of study with honors were admitted to the academy without an exam upon the recommendation of the seminary administration. The same applied to graduates of universities or other institutions of higher education, provided they were self-supporting. The rest were required to pass oral examinations in the following subjects: the New Testament, dogmatic theology, and general church history, as well as one of the ancient languages. There were also written examinations in theology and philosophy, as well as the composition of a sermon. Married priests and deacons with seminary education were initially admitted only to the Kiev and Kazan Academies, and it was not until a supplementary decree of July 18, 1911, that they were permitted to enroll in the Moscow Academy as well. The “changes” of 1911 gave high school graduates the opportunity to study at the state’s expense, but only if they passed a special exam (§ 139–143).

During the first three years of study at the academy, students were required to attend practical seminars and submit three written papers and three sermons annually. In the final year, students wrote a master’s thesis on a theological topic. Those who graduated from the academy with honors were awarded a Master of Divinity degree on the basis of their dissertation, without any oral examination whatsoever. A master’s degree holder also received the highest academic degree of Doctor of Theology, Church History, or Canon Law without an examination, upon submission of a dissertation, its approval by the Academic Council, and ratification by the Holy Synod; an oral examination was also not required. Individuals who were not members of the academy’s faculty could also obtain this degree in the same manner (§ 175–178).

The 1910–1911 charter placed great emphasis on moral and religious education and discipline. Students and faculty were required to regularly attend all divine services, which were to be conducted in full; readings and hymns were to be performed in a strictly ecclesiastical style, strictly adhering to the church regulations; and every liturgy was to be accompanied by a sermon. These rules were intended primarily for students who were monks or priests. Observance of all church fasts, as well as fasting before receiving Holy Communion, was considered extremely important for both students and faculty alike. All faculty members were also required to attend the morning services.

Students wishing to take monastic vows submitted a written application to the rector, who was required to verify whether the candidate was fully prepared for tonsure and to obtain permission for this from the diocesan bishop. A student monk was provided with a separate room—a cell, if possible—as well as appropriate food. It was the duty of the diocesan bishops to provide special pastoral care for them (§ 180–196).

The inspector, acting under the direction of the rector (who, according to the new rules, was required to hold the rank of bishop), was responsible for religious and moral education and for disciplinary oversight. To enhance his authority, the “Amendments” of August 26, 1911, stipulated that at the St. Petersburg and Moscow academies, the inspector was to hold the rank of archimandrite, and at the other two academies, the rank of archimandrite or protopresbyter. His appointment was made by the Holy Synod upon the recommendation of the diocesan bishop. The inspector usually did not give any lectures. The diocesan bishop appointed an assistant to him (§ 48–59). However, upon reviewing the lists of academic staff, it turned out that even after 1911, laypeople held the position of inspector, evidently due to a lack of suitable candidates.

Graduates supported by the state could also choose a secular career, but in that case they were required to serve one and a half years in the ecclesiastical department as compensation. Graduates who became priests were placed at the disposal of the diocesan bishops, while monks had to await appointment directly from the Holy Synod (§ 104–110).

On the whole, the new Charter did not bring about profound changes. The most significant of these was the strengthening of the diocesan bishop’s influence, which was particularly noticeable in the filling of academic chairs. The “amendments” of August 26, 1911, stipulated that a bishop could strike from the list of candidates submitted to him by the academic council anyone whose presence at the academy he deemed undesirable (§ 71). The Charter’s goal of reducing the number of lay faculty members proved difficult to achieve in practice due to a shortage of suitable candidates of monastic rank that persisted until 1917. At the Moscow Academy in 1912, out of 29 faculty members, only 9—including the rector—belonged to the clergy. At the St. Petersburg Academy during the 1917 academic year, there were no more than 6 clergymen among the 33 faculty members, including the rector [1623] . All efforts by Chief Prosecutor V. K. Sabler—on whose initiative the “Amendments” of August 26, 1911, were drafted—to support the conservative episcopate in its struggle against the secular faculty proved unsuccessful. The efforts of the Holy Synod to reform the academies in the direction it desired led, if anything, to the dismissal of a number of professors between 1908 and 1912. The simultaneous increase in the number of departments further multiplied the number of vacancies; for example, at the Moscow Academy alone, there were seven such vacancies during the 1911–1912 academic year. The situation was the same at other academies[1624] .

The immediate significance of the Charter lay in the intensification of theological instruction and practical training for students, as well as in the increase in the academies’ budgets and the raising of faculty salaries [1625] . “The Charter is structured in the spirit of authoritarian formalism. There is no sense of genuine inspiration in it at all”—such is the assessment of one researcher [1626] . However, since it was in effect for only a short time, four years of which coincided with a devastating war, the historian is unable to make a definitive judgment about its significance for the development of the academies.

e) Subsequently, the Educational Committee of the Holy Synod undertook the task of drafting new charters for seminaries and theological schools. The plan was to transform theological schools into six-grade theological preparatory schools. Their students, who were expected to come from the clergy, could count on a general education that would allow them to transfer at any time to the corresponding grade in a secular educational institution. Seminaries were to become four-year theological schools for training priests. They were intended for individuals of any social class who had graduated from either a theological preparatory school or a corresponding secular school. Graduates of the new seminaries not only became priests but could also continue their education at an academy. These statutes were submitted to the State Duma in the form of a bill by Chief Prosecutor Sabler, but were later withdrawn and therefore never debated. They never came into force, so seminaries and theological schools were forced to operate under their previous statutes until 1918.

In a 1906 amendment to the Charter, the Holy Synod decreed that theology be taught primarily in the upper grades, while general education subjects be taught only in the lower grades. The study of modern foreign languages was declared mandatory.

The Revolution of 1905–1906 caused far more disruption to the educational process in seminaries than in academies. In 1906, the admissions examination committee of the Moscow Academy noted that seminary graduates were completely ignorant of ecclesiastical history and other spiritual literature; according to the commission’s conclusion, seminary education consisted solely of the mechanical memorization of textbook content. Written assignments revealed timidity of thought, clichéd phrases, poor spelling, and ignorance of the Holy Scriptures. Knowledge of ancient languages was also highly unsatisfactory. In 1911, the same commission highlighted insufficient familiarity with the New Testament and such a weakness in Greek that the Greek text of the New Testament remained obscure to the seminarians; this picture was compounded by a lack of knowledge of dogmatic texts and Latin. The commission characterized the written sermons as impersonal, vague, and strikingly similar to one another in both content and form. The verdict of the examination commission at the Kazan Academy in 1913 was similar; it attributed this state of affairs to the overburdening of seminary students with course material. The results of entrance exams at other academies were no better. In 1911, the council of the Moscow Academy complained about the lack of diligence among students coming from seminaries and added that married clergy stood out significantly in their academic performance; their conduct served as an example for the students; married deacons and priests had a beneficial influence on the student body in terms of both scholarship and discipline. The Council proposed to the Holy Synod that § 142 of the Academies’ Charter be amended to facilitate the admission of married priests to the academies, which had previously required special permission from the Holy Synod. This request was granted on July 18, 1911.[1627]

The academies suffered greatly because many seminarians with good grades preferred universities or government service to the academies. In turn, those who graduated from the academies were increasingly uninterested in the prospect of becoming priests, and most of them chose a career in teaching at either a religious or secular school [1628] . For this reason, there was a constant shortage of priests in the dioceses, which compelled the Holy Synod to organize special pastoral courses in Moscow, Zhytomyr, and Orenburg for deacons and individuals who had not completed their seminary education; those who completed these courses were ordained as priests. On the other hand, the training of the next generation of scholars at the academies proceeded quite successfully. Beginning around 1909–1910, academic journals—which until then had published almost exclusively articles by professors—began to feature dissertations by young authors written to a high scholarly standard. This encouraging trend was also confirmed by professors’ reviews of doctoral dissertations at all academies, particularly in the field of Church history, although the topics of these dissertations were sometimes assigned to young researchers by lot and did not always correspond to the dissertation authors’ scholarly interests [1629] .

In conclusion, it should be noted that due to the inaccessibility of sources—official documents, meeting minutes, memoirs, etc.— it is currently impossible to provide a clear picture of the internal state of theological education during the final decades of the Synodal period; this period was severely affected by the political upheavals of the era and its unhealthy social atmosphere. However, the rapid rise of theological scholarship allows us to offer a generally positive assessment of the theological schools of that time and their achievements [1630] .

List of Sources and Bibliography

Zernov, N. The Ecumenical Church and Russian Orthodoxy. Paris, 1952.

Lototsky, O. Autocephaly. Warsaw, 1935–1938. 2 vols.

Schmemann, A. The Historical Path of Orthodoxy. New York, 1954.

Algermissen, K. *Konfessionskundë: A Handbook of Contemporary Christian Churches and Sects*. Hanover, 1930; 7th ed., Celle, 1950

Alivisatos, H. S. “The Current Status of Eastern Orthodox Theology” // Kyrios. 1936. Vol. 1.

Arseniew, N. S. The Church of the East. B., 1926 (Goschen Collection 918).

Arseniev, N. S. The Eastern Church and Mysticism. Munich, 1925; 2nd ed. Munich, 1943.

Arseniev, N. S. On the Spirit and Faith of the Eastern Church. Leipzig, 1941.

Beck, E. The Russian Church: Its History, Doctrine, and Liturgy. 2nd ed. Buhl i. Baden, 1926.

Benz, E. *Spirit and Life of the Eastern Church*. 7th ed. Hamburg, 1957 (Rowohlt’s German Encyclopedia, vol. 40).

Beth, K. Eastern Christianity in the Mediterranean Countries. B., 1902.

Boulgakoff, S. *The Orthodox Church*. London, 1935.

Boulgakoff, S. L’Orthodoxie. Paris, 1932; 2nd ed., 1958.

Boulgakoff, S. “The Nature of the Russian Church” // IKZ. 1939.

Bratsiotis, P. “The Basic Principles and Main Characteristics of the Orthodox Church” // Kyrios. 1936. Vol. 1.

The Christian East: Spirit and Form, ed. by J. Tyciak, G. Wunderle, and P. Werhun. Regensburg, 1939.

Fortescue, A. *The Orthodox Eastern Church*. London, 1916. 3rd ed., 1920.

Ga? W. Symbolism of the Greek Church. B., 1872.

Gavin, Fr. Some Aspects of Greek Orthodox Thought. London, 1923.

Heiler, F. The Early Church and the Eastern Church. Munich, 1937.

Holl, K. Collected Essays on Church History. Vol. 2: The East. Tübingen, 1928.

Janin, R. The Eastern Churches and Eastern Rites. Paris, 1922. 2nd ed., 1926; 3rd ed., 1956.

Karsawin, L. “The Essence of Russian Orthodoxy” // Osteuropa. 1925–1926. Vol. 1.

Kartasev, A. V. The Orthodox Church of the East: A Comprehensive Historical Overview // Kyrios. 1936. Vol. 1.

Kattenbusch, F. Textbook of Comparative Denominational Studies. Vol. 1: The Orthodox Anatolian Church. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1892.

Church, State, and Man. Russian Orthodox Studies. Geneva, 1937 (Church and World. Studies and Documents, ed. by the Research Department of the Ecumenical Council for Practical Christianity, Vol. 2).

Kyriakos, A. D. History of the Eastern Churches from 1453 to 1898. Translated by E. Rausch. Leipzig, 1902.

*Libri symbolici Ecclesiae orientalis*, edited by E. Kimmel, 1843 (2nd ed., *Monumenta fidei Ecclesiae orientalis*, edited by H. Weissenborn, 1850).

Loofs, Fr. Symbolism or Christian Confessional Studies. Tübingen, 1902. Vol. 1.

Michel, A. “Imperial Power in the Eastern Church (843–1204)” // OS. 1954. Vol. 3.

Mihalcescu, J. The Creeds and the Most Important Testimonies of Faith of the Greek-Eastern Church in the Original Text. Leipzig, 1904.

Milasch, N. (Bishop of Zara). The Canon Law of the Eastern Church. Translated into German by A. R. von Pessi?. Zara, 1897; 2nd ed. Mostar, 1905.

Milasch, N. (Bishop of Zara). Orthodox Canon Law. 3rd ed. Belgrade, 1926.

Eastern Christianity: Paths to an Ecumenical Theology, edited by P. Kruger and J. Tyciak. Paderborn, 1940.

Mulert, H. Confessional Theology. B., 1937.

The Orthodox Church in the Balkans and the Near East: History, Doctrine, and Constitution // Ekklesia. A Collection of Self-Descriptions of the Christian Churches, ed. by F. Sigmund-Schultze. Leipzig, 1939, 1941. Vol. 10, Nos. 45–56.

The Eastern Church. Special issue of the quarterly “Una Sancta.” Stuttgart, 1927.

The Eastern Church and Russian Christianity, edited by E. Benz. Tübingen, 1949.

Eastern Christianity: Documents, edited by H. Ehrenberg and N. Bubnoff. Munich, 1923–1925. 2 vols.

Salaville, S. Eastern Liturgies: General Concepts, Principal Elements. Paris, 1932.

Seraphim (Lade), Metropolitan. The Eastern Church. Stuttgart, 1950.

Silbernagl, J. *Constitution and Current State of All Churches of the East*, edited by Schnitzer. Regensburg, 1904.

Smolitsch, I. Russian Monasticism: Origins, Development, and Essence, 988–1917. Würzburg, 1953 (Eastern Christianity, New Series 1011).

Spuler, B. The Current Situation of the Eastern Churches in Their Ethnic and Political Context. Wiesbaden, 1948.

Stasiewski, B. “On the Concept of Eastern European History and Church History,” *Munchener Theologien Zeitschrift*, 1953, Vol. 4.

Tyciak, J. The Liturgy as a Source of Eastern Piety. Freiburg; B., 1937 (Ecclesia orans, Vol. 20).

Tyciak, J. Oriental Mysticism: Character and Trends. Düsseldorf, 1949.

Tyciak, J. Eastern Christianity. Warendorf i. W., 1934; 2nd ed., 1947.

Tyciak, J. Paths of Eastern Theology. Bonn, 1946.

Vries, W. de. The Christian East in History and the Present. Würzburg, 1951 (Eastern Christianity. New Series 1).

Wunderle, G. The Spiritual Face of the Eastern Church. Würzburg, 1949.

Zaikyn, W. An Outline of the History of the Structure of the East Slavic Church. Vol. 1: Division into Periods. Lemberg, 1939 (Archives of the Scientific Society in Lviv. Section 2. Vol. 24. No. 1).

Zankow, St. Orthodox Christianity in the East: Its Essence and Present Form. B., 1928.

Zankow, St. The Orthodox Church of the East from an Ecumenical Perspective. Zurich, 1946.

Vernadsky, G. V. An Outline of the History of the Russian State. 18th–19th Centuries (The Imperial Period). Prague, 1924.

Vladimirsky-Budanov, M. An Overview of the History of Russian Law. Kiev, 1888; 2nd ed., 1915.

Gradovsky, A. The Beginnings of Russian Public Law. St. Petersburg, 1875–1883. 3 vols.

Dovnar-Zapolsky, M. V. An Overview of Modern History. Kyiv, 1912. Vol. 1; 2nd ed., 1915.

Doroshenko, D. A History of Ukraine. Warsaw, 1932–1933. 2 vols.

Zenkovsky, V. V. History of Russian Philosophy. Paris, 1948–1950; 2nd ed. 1989. 2 vols.; 3rd ed. Leningrad, 1991. 2 vols.

History of the USSR. Vol. 2: Russia in the 19th Century. Edited by M. V. Nechkina. Moscow, 1949; 2nd ed. 1954.

Kizevetter, A. A. History of Russia in the 19th Century. Moscow, 1911–1912. 2 parts (lithographic ed.).

Kovalevsky, P. E. The Historical Path of Russia: A Synthesis of Russian History Based on the Latest Scientific Data. Paris, 1946; 2nd ed., 1949.

Korkunov, N. M. Russian Public Law. St. Petersburg, 1893.

Kornilov, A. A Course in the History of 19th-Century Russia. Moscow, 1912–1914. 3 vols.

Latkin, V. N. Textbook on the History of Russian Law During the Imperial Period, 18th–19th Centuries. St. Petersburg, 1909.

Milyukov, P. N. The Main Currents of Russian Historical Thought. Moscow, 1897. Vol. 1; 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1913.

Milyukov, P. N. Essays on the History of Russian Culture. St. Petersburg, 1896–1903. 2 vols.; 2nd ed., rev. and expanded. Paris, 1930–1937. 3 vols. (in 4 books).

Nolde, B. E. Essays on Russian Constitutional Law. St. Petersburg, 1911.

Essays on the History of the USSR. The Feudal Period: Russia in the First Quarter of the 18th Century. The Reforms of Peter I. Moscow, 1954.

Essays on the History of the USSR. The Feudal Period: Russia in the Second Half of the 18th Century. Moscow, 1956.

Essays on the History of the USSR. The Feudal Period: Russia in the Second Quarter of the 18th Century. Moscow, 1957.

Platonov, S. F. Lectures on Russian History. St. Petersburg, 1915. [Moscow, 1993].

Pushkarev, S. G. An Overview of Russian History. New York, 1953.

Pushkarev, S. G. Russia in the 19th Century (1801–1914). New York, 1956.

Ryazanovsky, B. A. An Overview of Russian Culture. Eugene, Oregon, 1947. 2 vols.

Semenov, P. I. Russia at the End of the 19th Century. St. Petersburg, 1900.

Solovyov, S. M. History of Russia from the Earliest Times. Moscow, 1851–1879. 29 vols.; Moscow, 1962–1966. 15 books. [Moscow, 1988–1996].

Filippov, A. N. Textbook on the History of Russian Law. Yuryev, 1912.

Shmurlo, E. History of Russia. 862–1917. Munich, 1922.

Shmurlo, E. A Course in Russian History. Prague, 1935. Vol. 3: 1613–1725.

Engelmann, J. The Constitutional Law of the Russian Empire. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1889.

Florinsky, M. T. *Russia: A History and an Interpretation*. New York, 1953. 2 vols.

Gitermann, V. *History of Russia*. Hamburg, 1949. 3 vols.

Gribowski, V. The Constitutional Law of the Russian Empire. Tübingen, 1912 (Contemporary Public Law, vol. 17).

Hanisch, E. History of Russia. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1940–1941. 2 vols.; 2nd ed., 1943–1944. 2 vols.

Hedenstrom, A. von. History of Russia. 1878–1918. Berlin, 1922.

Hoetzsch, O. Outlines of the History of Russia. Stuttgart, 1949.

Hoetzsch, O. Russia. B., 1913; 2nd ed.: 1917.

Ilyin, I. The Nature and Character of Russian Culture. 2nd ed. Affoltern am Aare, 1944.

Karpovich, M. *Imperial Russia, 1801–1917*. New York, 1937.

Kliutschewskij, W. O. History of Russia. Stuttgart; Leipzig; B., 1925–1926. 4 vols.

Kliuchevsky, W. O. Russian History from Peter the Great to Nicholas I. Zurich, 1945. 2 vols.

Kornilov, A. *Modern Russian History*. London, 1916. 2 vols.; 2nd ed. New York, 1952.

Leontowitsch, V. History of Liberalism in Russia. Frankfurt am Main, 1957.

Lo Gatto, E. *History of Russia*. Florence, 1946.

Lossky, N. O. *History of Russian Philosophy*. New York, 1951.

Luther, A. History of Russian Literature. Leipzig, 1924.

Macurek, J. History of the Eastern Slavs. Prague, 1947. 3 vols.

Masaryk, Th. G. Russia and Europe. Studies on Intellectual Currents in Russia. Supplement 1: On Russian Philosophy of History and Religion. Sociological Sketches. Jena, 1913. 2 vols.

Mazour, A. *Russia: Past and Present*. London, 1951 (Lit.).

Milioukov, P., Seignobos, C., and Eisenmann, L. *History of Russia*. Paris, 1932–1933. 3 vols.

Mirtschluk, I. History of Ukrainian Culture. Munich, 1957 (Publications of the Institute for Eastern European Studies, Munich, no. 12).

Neander, I. Outlines of Russian History. Darmstadt, 1956.

Palme, A. The Russian Constitution. Brussels, 1910.

Pares, B. A History of Russia. London, 1926; 4th ed., 1949.

Philipp, W. “Historical Prerequisites of Political Thought in Russia” // Studies in Eastern European History. 1954. Vol. 1.

Philipp, W. “Russia’s Rise to World Power, 1815–1917” // *Historia Mundi*. Bern, 1961. Vol. 10.

Platonov, S. F. History of Russia from the Beginning to the Present. Leipzig, 1927.

Rauch, G. von. Russia: State Unity and National Diversity. Federalist Ideas and Forces in Russian History. Munich, 1953.

Schultz, L. Russian Legal History from Its Beginnings to the Present. Lahr, 1951.

Seton-Watson, H. The Decline of Imperial Russia, 1855–1914. London; New York, 1952.

Seton-Watson, H. The Decline of the Tsarist Empire, 1855–1914. Munich, 1954.

Stender-Petersen, A. History of Russian Literature. Munich, 1957. 2 vols.

Stahlin, K. History of Russia from the Beginnings to the Present. Stuttgart; Berlin; Leipzig, 1923. Vol. 1; Berlin; Königsberg (Prussia), 1930–1939. Vols. 2, 3, 4 (1–2).

Stahlin, K. “Russia and Europe” // Hefte Zeitschrifte. 1925. Vol. 132.

Sumner, B. H. “Russia and Europe” // Oxford Slavonic Papers. 1951. Vol. 2.

Trubetzkoy, G. Russia as a Great Power. Stuttgart, 1913; 2nd ed., 1917.

Zdziechowski, M. The Fundamental Problems of Russia. Vienna; Leipzig, 1907.

Zenkovsky, V. V. A History of Russian Philosophy. New York, 1953.

The Great Encyclopedia. Edited by S. N. Yuzhakov and P. N. Milyukov. Leipzig; Vienna; St. Petersburg, 1900–1909. 22 vols. (BE).

Vengerov, S. A. Sources for a Dictionary of Russian Writers. St. Petersburg–Petrograd, 1900–1917. Vol. 1–4 (up to the entry “Nekrasov”).

Vengerov, S. A. Critical and Biographical Dictionary of Russian Writers and Scholars (from the Beginnings of Russian Enlightenment to the Present Day). St. Petersburg, 1889–1904. Vol. 1–6 (unfinished; vol. 6 contains an index of names).

Gennadi, G. Reference Dictionary of Russian Writers and Scholars Who Died in the 18th and 19th Centuries, and a List of Russian Books from 1725 to 1825. B., 1876. Vol. 1; B., 1880. Vol. 2, with additions by N. P. Sobko; Vol. 3 with a preface by A. Titov, in: Chteniya. 1906. Book 4; 1907. Books 1, 4; Vol. 4 remained in manuscript form and is preserved at the Russian National Library (St. Petersburg).

Evgeny (Bolkhovitinov), Metropolitan. Historical Dictionary of Writers of the Clergy of the Greek-Russian Church Who Lived in Russia. St. Petersburg, 1818. 2 vols.; 2nd ed., revised and expanded. St. Petersburg, 1827. 2 vols. 3rd ed.: Moscow, 1995.

Ikonnikov, V. S. An Essay on the History of Russian Historiography. Kiev, 1891–1892. Vol. 1 (2 parts); 1908. Vol. 2 (2 parts).

Kuznetsov, S. K. Russian Historical Geography. Moscow, 1910.

Mezhov, V. I. Russian Historical Bibliography. 1800–1864. St. Petersburg, 1892–1894. 3 vols.

Mezhov, V. I. Russian Historical Bibliography for 1865–1876, inclusive. St. Petersburg, 1882–1890. 8 vols. (Vols. 7–8: index of names).

Mintzlov, S. R. A Survey of Notes, Diaries, Memoirs, Letters, and Travel Accounts Relating to the History of Russia, Published in Russian. Novgorod, 1911–1912. 5 vols.

Orthodox Theological Encyclopedia. Edited by A. P. Lopukhin and N. N. Glubokovsky (from vol. 6 onward). St. Petersburg, 1900–1911. 12 vols. (unfinished) (OTE).

Picheta, V. Introduction to Russian History (Sources and Historiography). Moscow, 1922.

Rittich, A. Ethnographic Map of Russia. St. Petersburg, 1875.

Russia: A Complete Geographical Description of Our Fatherland. Edited by V. P. Semenov-Tian-Shansky. St. Petersburg, 1899–1913. Vol. 1–10, 15–16, 18–19 (maps!).

Rubinstein, N. L. Russian Historiography. Moscow, 1941.

Seredonin, S. M. Historical Geography. Petrograd, 1915.

Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. Review of Russian Spiritual Literature. St. Petersburg, 1863–1884 (only up to 1864).

Encyclopedic Dictionary. Edited by F. A. Brockhaus and I. A. Efron. St. Petersburg, 1890–1904. 82 vols.; St. Petersburg, 1904–1907. 4 supplementary vols. (ES).

Mazour, A. G. *Modern Russian Historiography*. 2nd ed. Princeton, 1958.

Atlas of the History of the USSR. Edited by K. V. Bazilevich, Ya. A. Golubtsev, and M. A. Zinoviev. Moscow, 1949. 2 vols.

Zamyzlovsky, E. E. Educational Atlas of Russian History. St. Petersburg, 1887.

Historical Atlas of Russia, supervised by A. A. Ilyin. St. Petersburg, 1887, and others.

Kudryashov. Russian Historical Atlas. Moscow, 1928.

The Russian Empire. 1801–1861. Moscow, 1954.

Russia. 1907–1914. Moscow, 1956.

Asian Russia. Edited by the Resettlement Administration. St. Petersburg, 1914. 2 vols. and an atlas.

Verkhovskoy, P. V. “A Historical and Legal Analysis of the Formula ‘Russia—An Orthodox State’” // Tserkovnaya Pravda. Berlin, 1914. No. 14.

Military-Statistical Compendium. St. Petersburg, 1871. Vol. 4: Russia.

Kartashov, A. V. The Russian Church During the Imperial Period // Proceedings of the “Toward the Knowledge of Russia” Circle. Paris, 1937. No. 2.

Klochkov, P. The Population of Russia under Peter I. St. Petersburg, 1911.

Klochkov, P. “The Poll Tax under Peter the Great” // ZhMNP. 1915. Part 1.

Mendeleev, D. Toward an Understanding of Russia. St. Petersburg, 1906 [Munich, 1922].

Milyukov, P. N. Essays on the History of Russian Culture (see general bibliography b).

Comprehensive Summary of the Results of the Analysis of Data from the First All-Russian Population Census of January 28, 1897. Edited by N. A. Troitsky. St. Petersburg, 1905.

Preobrazhensky, I. The Russian Orthodox Church According to Statistical Data (1840–1891). St. Petersburg, 1897.

Razin, A. G. “Population Dynamics: Processes of Urban Population Formation in Russia in the 19th–Early 20th Centuries.” *Historical Notes*, 1950, Vol. 34.

Razin, A. G. The Population of Russia Over 100 Years (1811–1913): Statistical Essays. Moscow, 1956.

Russia // Great Soviet Encyclopedia. Vol. 16.

Russia: Its Past and Present (supplementary volume to the Encyclopaedia of Russia). St. Petersburg, 1900.

Russia: A Complete Geographical Description of Our Fatherland. Edited by V. P. Semenov-Tian-Shansky. St. Petersburg, 1899–1913. Vol. 1–10, 15–16, 18–19.

Russian Calendar for 1903, 1908, and 1912. Published by A. Suvorin. St. Petersburg, 1903; 1908; 1912.

Strelbitsky, I. Calculation of the Area of the Russian Empire in Its Entirety During the Reign of Emperor Alexander III and of the Asian States Bordering Russia. St. Petersburg, 1889.

Central Statistical Committee. The Population of the Empire According to the Census of January 28, 1897, by Uyezd. St. Petersburg, 1898.

Janson, Ya. E. Comparative Statistics of Russia and Western European States. St. Petersburg, 1879. Vol. 1.

Nolde, B. *La formation de l’Empire russe*. Paris, 1952–1953. 2 vols.

Trubetzkoi, G. Russia as a Great Power. Stuttgart, 1913; 2nd ed., 1917.

Dyakonov, M. A. Essays on the Social and Political Structure of Ancient Rus’. 4th ed. St. Petersburg, 1912.

Klyuchevsky, V. O. “The Origin of Serfdom in Russia” // Russkiy Mir, 1885, No. 8; the same, in: Klyuchevsky, V. O. Essays and Studies. First Collection of Articles. Moscow, 1912; 2nd ed. Petrograd, 1918.

Milyukov, P. N. Essays (general literature b).

Romanovich-Slavyatinsky, V. E. The Nobility in Russia from the Beginning of the 18th Century to the Abolition of Serfdom. St. Petersburg, 1870; 2nd ed.: 1912.

Semevsky, V. I. Peasants During the Reign of Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1881–1901. 2 vols.; 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1903. Vol. 1.

Semevsky, V. I. The Peasant Question in Russia in the 18th Century and the First Half of the 19th Century. St. Petersburg, 1888. Vol. 1.

Fenin, A. I. On the History of Social and Economic Development in Russia (1883–1906). Prague, 1938.

Alexeev, N. N. “The Russian People and the State” // Church, State, and Man. Russian Orthodox Studies. Geneva, 1937.

Fedotov, G. P. “The Kingdom of God and History” // Ibid.

Waldenberg, V. Old Russian Doctrines on the Limits of Tsarist Power: Essays on Russian Political Literature from St. Vladimir to the End of the 17th Century. Petrograd, 1916.

Gibbenet, N. A Historical Study of the Case of Patriarch Nikon. St. Petersburg, 1882–1884. 2 vols.

Dyakonov, M. A. The Power of the Moscow Sovereigns: Essays on the History of Political Ideas in Ancient Rus’. St. Petersburg, 1889.

Zyzykin, M. V. Patriarch Nikon: His Political and Canonical Ideas. Warsaw, 1931–1939. 3 vols. [reprint: Moscow, 1995].

Ikonnikov, V. A Study of the Cultural Significance of Byzantium in Russian History. Kiev, 1866.

Kapterev, N. F. Patriarchal and Episcopal Authority in Ancient Rus’ in Relation to Tsarist Authority // BV. 1905. Vol. 1–3.

Kapterev, N. F. Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Sergiev Posad, 1909–1912. 2 vols. [reprint: Moscow, 1996].

Kapterev, N. F. The Judgment of the Great Moscow Council of 1667 on Tsar’s and Patriarchal Authority (On the Question of Peter the Great’s Reform of the Higher Church Administration) // BV. 1892. Vol. 7–8, 10.

Kapterev, N. F. “The Tsar and the Moscow Ecclesiastical Councils of the 16th and 17th Centuries” // BV. 1906. Vol. 3.

Kartashov, A. V. Orthodoxy in Its Relationship to the Historical Process // Orthodox Thought. Paris, 1948. Vol. 6.

Kartashov, A. V. The Fate of “Holy Rus’” // Ibid. 1928. Vol. 1.

Kartashov, A. V. Church and State. Paris, 1932.

Kartashov, A. V. Church and State: An Eastern Orthodox Perspective. Warsaw, 1937.

Kurganov, F. “The Byzantine Ideal of the Tsar and the Kingdom” // Prav. Sob. 1881. No. 5.

Lukyanov, S. M. “On the Doctrine of Statehood and Ecclesiastical Authority” // ZhMNP. 1913. Part 2.

Makarii (Bulgakov), Metropolitan. History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1857–1883. 12 vols.

Ogloblin, O. The Moscow Theory of “Third Rome” in the 16th–17th Centuries. Munich, 1951.

Ostrogorsky, G. “Relations Between Church and State in Byzantium” // Seminarium Kondakovianum. 1931. Vol. 6.

Platonov, S. F. Lectures (General Literature B).

Presnyakov, A. E. The Moscow Tsardom. Petrograd, 1918.

Presnyakov, A. E. The Formation of the Great Russian State. Petrograd, 1918.

Savva, V. The Moscow Tsars and the Byzantine Basileus: On the Influence of Byzantium on the Formation of the Idea of Tsarist Power Among the Moscow Rulers. Kharkiv, 1901.

Sokolsky, V. “On the Nature and Significance of the Epanagoge” // Byzantine Chronicle. 1894. Vol. 1.

Sokolsky, V. The Participation of the Russian Clergy and Monasticism in the Development of Autocracy and Absolute Monarchy in the Muscovite State in the Late 15th and First Half of the 16th Centuries. Kyiv, 1902.

Solovyov, A. V. Holy Rus’. An Essay on the Development of a Religious and Social Idea // Proceedings of the Russian Archaeological Society. Belgrade, 1927. Vol. 1.

Shpakov, A. The State and the Church: Their Relations in the Muscovite State from the Union of Florence to the Establishment of the Patriarchate. Moscow, 1902. Vol. 1: The Reign of Vasily the Blind; Odessa, 1912. Vol. 2: The Reign of Fyodor Ivanovich and the Establishment of the Patriarchate.

Medlin, W. K. *Moscow and East Rome: A Political Study of the Relations of Church and State in Muscovite Russia*. Geneva, 1952.

Ostrogorsky, G. *History of the Byzantine State*. Munich, 1940; 2nd ed., 1957.

Schaeder, H. Moscow—The Third Rome. Hamburg, 1929; 2nd ed., Darmstadt, 1957.

Smolitsch, I. Russian Monasticism: Origins, Development, and Essence. 988–1917. Würzburg, 1953 (Eastern Christianity. New Series 1011).

Stupperich, R. “The Moscow State and the Moscow Church in the Middle Ages” // Die Zeichen der Zeit. 1949. Vol. 3, No. 12.

Vernadsky, G. V. “The Ecclesiastical-Political Doctrine of the Epanagoge and Its Influence on Russian Life in the 17th Century” // Byzantine-Modern Greek Yearbooks. 1928. Vol. 6. No. 12.

Alphabetical Index to “A Collection of Opinions and Reviews by Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna, on Educational and Church-State Issues,” compiled by A. Gavrilov. Moscow, 1891. 2 vols.

Barsov, T. V. Collection of Current and Guiding Ecclesiastical and Ecclesiastical-Civil Decrees of the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1885. Vol. 1.

Bulgakov, S. V. Handbook for Clergy and Church Ministers. Kharkiv, 1892; 2nd ed., 1912.

Verkhovskoy, P. V. The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium and the “Spiritual Regulations.” Rostov-on-Don, 1916. 2 vols.

The Most Humble Report of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod for the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1887–1916 (through 1914).

Ginovsky, Ya. M. Table of Contents of the Laws of the Greek-Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1827–1828. 2 vols.

Glubokovsky, N. N. Russian Theological Scholarship: Its Historical Development and Current State. Warsaw, 1928.

State Duma: Reports of the Budget Committee. Third Duma. St. Petersburg, 1908–1912. 10 vols.; Fourth Duma. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1913–1916. 11 vols.

State Duma: Verbatim Reports. First Duma. St. Petersburg, 1907; Second Duma. St. Petersburg, 1907; Third Duma. St. Petersburg, 1908–1912. 17 vols.; Fourth Duma. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1913–1917. 13 vols.

Denisov, I. An Outline of the History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1874.

Dobroklonsky, A. P. A Guide to the History of the Russian Church. Moscow, 1893. Vol. 4: The Synodal Period, 1700–1890.

“Diocesan Gazette” (1861–1917, in each diocese).

Journals and Minutes of the Imperial Pre-Council Assembly. St. Petersburg, 1906–1907. 4 vols.

Zdravo-myslov, K. Ya. “The 50th Anniversary of the Commission, Approved by His Imperial Majesty, for the Examination and Cataloging of the Archives of the Holy Synod” // Istoricheskie Vesti. 1916. No. 2.

Zdravo-myslov, K. Ya. Information on Consistorial Archives and Ecclesiastical-Archaeological Institutions in the Dioceses, the Project of the Commission on Archives and Archaeology Approved by His Imperial Majesty under the Holy Synod, and the Regulations on Ecclesiastical-Archival Commissions. St. Petersburg, 1908.

Znamensky, P. V. A Guide to Russian Church History. Kazan, 1870; 1888; 1896; 1912.

Ivanovsky, Ya. I. Review of Ecclesiastical and Civil Legislation under the Spiritual Department. St. Petersburg, 1883; 1900.

Excerpts from the Most Humble Report of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod (from various years).

History of the Russian Hierarchy. St. Petersburg, 1807–1815. 6 vols. in 7 books.

Kalashnikov, S. V. Alphabetical Index of Current and Guiding Canonical Decrees, Edicts, Resolutions, and Orders of the Most Holy Governing Synod (1721–1901, inclusive) and Civil Laws Pertaining to the Ecclesiastical Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1902.

Kartashov, A. V. “A Brief Historical-Critical Essay on the Systematic Study of Russian Church History” // Christian Readings. 1903. No. 6–7.

Kartashov, A. V. The Russian Church During the Imperial Period // Proceedings of the “Toward the Knowledge of Russia” Circle. Paris, 1937. Vol. 2.

Lavrov, A. An Essay on the History of the Russian Church. Moscow, 1880; 2nd ed., 1902.

Lototsky, O. Autocephaly. Warsaw, 1935–1938. 2 vols.

Lukanin, A. Chronological Index of Legislation Pertaining to the Ecclesiastical Department of the Orthodox Faith. Perm, 1878–1881. 2 vols.

Mauritsky, V. A. Church Administration. Directives from the Spiritual Department and Explanations on Matters of Church Practice. Moscow, 1883.

Malinovsky, O. Handbook for Clergy. St. Petersburg, 1913.

Malitsky, V. A. A Guide to the History of the Russian Church. Tula, 1889. Vol. 3: The Synodal Period.

The Opinions of Their Eminences the Bishops on Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1907.

Muravyov, A. N. History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1838; 2nd ed., 1840.

Nechaev, P. N. A Practical Guide for Clergy, or a Systematic Exposition of the Full Scope of Their Duties and Rights. 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1890; 12th ed. 1915.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Biographical Materials. St. Petersburg, 1900. Vol. 1.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Notes // Russian Arch. 1907. No. 1.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. From Notes // Russian Arch. 1908. No. 5.

Nikolaevsky, P. Lectures on Russian Church History, Delivered to Students at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy in 1895–1896. St. Petersburg, 1896 [lithographic ed.].

Nikolsky, A. I. Description of Manuscripts Held in the Archive of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1904–1910. Vol. 1–2 (Parts 1–2).

Overview of the Activities of the Department of the Orthodox Faith During the Reign of Alexander III. St. Petersburg, 1901.

Catalog of the Archive of the Alexander Nevsky Lavra during the Reign of Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1903–1911. 2 vols.

Catalog of Documents and Files Held in the Archives of the Most Holy Governing Synod. Files of the Commission on Theological Schools. 1808–1839. St. Petersburg, 1910.

Catalog of Documents and Files Held in the Archives of the Most Holy Governing Synod. St. Petersburg, 1869–1914. 22 vols.

Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on the Question of Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1906. 3 vols. and a supplementary volume.

Legislative Acts of Peter the Great. Edited by M. M. Bogoslovsky and N. N. Klochkov. Moscow, 1910.

Correspondence between N. I. Subbotin and K. P. Pobedonostsev (on the schism). Moscow, 1915; the same, in: Readings. 1915. Vol. 1.

Letters from Pobedonostsev to Alexander III. Moscow, 1925. 2 vols.

Pobedonostsev, K. P. The Moscow Collection. Moscow, 1896.

Porphyry (Uspensky), Bishop. The Book of My Life. St. Petersburg, 1894–1902. 8 vols.

Preobrazhensky, I. The Russian Church According to Statistical Data. 1840–1891. St. Petersburg, 1897.

Privalovich, A. Collection of Laws Concerning the Monastic Clergy. Moscow, 1897.

Rozanov, N. P. *History of the Moscow Diocesan Administration from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy Synod (1721–1821)*. Moscow, 1866–1871. 3 vols. in 5 books.

Runkiewicz, S. G. History of the Russian Church under the Administration of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1900. Vol. 1: The Establishment and Initial Organization of the Holy and Righteous Synod. 1721–1725.

Runkiewicz, S. G. “The Russian Church in the 19th Century” // History of the Russian Church in the 19th Century, ed. A. P. Lopukhin. St. Petersburg, 1901. Vol. 2.

Savva (Tikhomirov), Bishop. Chronicle of My Life. Sergiev Posad, 1897–1911. 9 vols.

Code of Laws of the Russian Empire. St. Petersburg, 1832. 15 vols.; 1842; 1857; 1876 (16 vols.); 1892 (not all volumes). St. Petersburg, 1906; 1910. Vol. 1: Fundamental Laws.

Titlinov, B. V. Gavriil Petrov, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg (1730–1801): His Life and Activities in Connection with the Ecclesiastical Affairs of That Time. Petrograd, 1916 (Proceedings of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. Vol. 5).

Titlinov, B. V. Lectures on the History of the Russian Church, Delivered at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy in 1913–1914. St. Petersburg, 1914 [lithograph].

Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories. St. Petersburg, 1841; 1883.

Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories with Additions and Clarifications by the Holy Synod and the Governing Senate. Compiled by M. I. Palibin. 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1912.

Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. History of the Russian Church. Moscow, 1848; 5th ed. 1884; 6th ed. 1896.

Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. An Overview of Russian Spiritual Literature. St. Petersburg, 1857; 2nd ed., 1859; 3rd ed., 1884. 2 vols.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Opinions, Reviews, and Letters. Compiled by L. Brodsky. Moscow, 1905.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Correspondence with N. Protasov // Readings. 1877. Vol. 1.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to A. N. Muravyov. 1832–1867. Kiev, 1869.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to Members of the Imperial Family and Various Other Persons. Tver, 1888. 2 vols.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to Leonid, Bishop of Dmitrov. Moscow, 1883; also in: Spiritual Readings, 1886, Nos. 1–3.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to Archimandrite Anthony, Vicar of the Holy Trinity St. Sergius Lavra. Moscow, 1877–1881. 4 vols.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to the Late Archbishop Alexy of Tver. 1843–1867. Moscow, 1883.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letters to S. Nechayev // Russian Arch. 1893. No. 1–2.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Complete Collection of Resolutions. Moscow, 1903–1906. 3 vols.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Collection of Opinions and Reviews… on Educational and Church-State Issues. Moscow, 1885–1888. 5 vols. and a supplementary vol.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Collection of Opinions on Matters Concerning the Orthodox Church in the East. St. Petersburg, 1886.

“Church Gazette.” Published by the Most Holy Governing Synod. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1888–1917.

“Church Herald,” published by the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. St. Petersburg, 1874–1887.

Circular Decrees of the Most Holy Governing Synod. 1867–1895. Edited by A. Zavyalov. St. Petersburg, 1896; 2nd ed. (1867–1900). St. Petersburg, 1901.

Chizhevsky, I. The Structure of the Russian Orthodox Church, Its Institutions, and the Current Regulations Governing Its Administration. Kharkiv, 1898.

Ammann, A. M. An Outline of East Slavic Church History. Vienna, 1950.

Ammann, A. M. *Storia della Chiesa Russa e del Paese Limitrofi*. Turin, 1948.

Benz, E. *Spirit and Life of the Eastern Church*. Hamburg, 1957 (Rowohlt’s German Encyclopedia, vol. 40).

Benz, E. The Eastern Church in the Light of Protestant Historiography from the Reformation to the Present. Freiburg im Breisgau; Munich, 1952.

Boissard, J. *The Church of Russia*. Paris, 1867. 2 vols.

Bonwetsch, N. *Church History of Russia*. Leipzig, 1923.

Brian-Chaninov, K. The Russian Church. Paris, 1928.

Curtiss, J. S. *Church and State in Russia: The Last Years of the Empire, 1900–1917*. New York, 1940.

Dearmer, R. The Russian Church. London, 1917.

Dalton, H. *The Russian Church*. Leipzig, 1892.

Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. History of the Church of Russia. Translated into German by Blumenthal. Frankfurt am Main, 1872. 2 vols.

Fortescue, A. *The Orthodox Eastern Church*. London, 1904; 2nd ed., 1908; 3rd ed., 1920.

Gordillo, R. P. “Russia. 2: Since the Establishment of the Holy Synod” // DTC. 1931. Vol. 14, No. 1, pp. 333–371.

Herman, A. *De fontibus juris ecclesiastici russorum*. *Commentarius historico-canonicus*. Rome, 1936 (Sacred Congregation for the Eastern Church. *Codificazione orientale*. *Fonti*. Series 2, 7).

Herman, A., and Wuyts, A. *Textus selecti juris ecclesiastici russorum*. Rome, 1944 (ibid., Series 2, 6).

Heard, A. F. *The Russian Church*. London, 1877.

Kattenbusch, F. *Lehrbuch der vergleichenden Konfessionskunde*. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1892. Vol. 1.

Klostermann, R. *Problems of the Eastern Church: Studies on the Nature and History of the Greek Orthodox Church*. Gothenburg, 1955.

Leroy-Beaulieu. The Empire of the Tsars and the Russians. Paris, 1890. 3 vols.

Leroy-Beaulieu. The Empire of the Tsars and the Russians. Sondershausen, 1890. 3 vols. (especially vol. 3).

Minns, E. H., and Troitsky, S. V. “Russian Church.” In *Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics*. New York, 1918. Vol. 10. pp. 867–877 (On the Synodal Period: pp. 873–877).

Muravyev, A. N. A History of the Church of Russia. Translated by Blackmore. Oxford, 1842.

Muravyev (Murawiew) A. N. *Geschichte der russischen Kirche* (German translation by König). Karlsruhe, 1857.

Palmieri, A. *The Russian Church: Its Current Conditions and Doctrinal Reform*. Florence, 1908.

Pinkerton, R. *The Present State of the Greek Church in Russia*. Edinburgh, 1914.

Schmitt, H. J. *Harmony of the Eastern and Western Churches*. Vienna, 1824; 2nd ed., Würzburg, 1863.

Schmitt, H. J. A Critical History of the Modern Greek and Russian Churches. Mainz, 1840; 2nd ed., 1854.

Schmitt, H. J. The Eastern Greek-Russian Church. Mainz, 1826.

Stanley, A. P. *Lectures on the History of the Eastern Church*. London, 1908; 2nd ed., 1924.

Stupperich, R. “The Russian State Church of the St. Petersburg Period” // Die Zeichen der Zeit. 1950. Vol. 3.

Tondini, C. *The Pope of Rome and the Popes of the Eastern Orthodox Church*. Paris, 1876.

Vilivsky, V. The Spirit of the Russian Church. Prague, 1930.

Wilbois, J. The Future of the Russian Church. Paris, 1907.

Zaikyn, W. An Outline of the History of the Structure of the East Slavic Church. Lemberg, 1939. Vol. 1. Division into Periods (Archives of the Scientific Society in Lviv. Section 2. Vol. 24. No. 1).

Pokrovsky, I. M. Russian Dioceses in the 16th–19th Centuries: Their Establishment, Composition, and Boundaries: An Ecclesiastical-Historical, Statistical, and Geographical Study. Kazan, 1897–1913. 2 vols.

Aristov, N. The Moscow Turmoil During the Reign of Tsarina Sophia Alekseyevna. Warsaw, 1871.

Baklanova, N. A. “The Notebooks” of Elder Avraam // Historical Archive. 1951. Vol. 6.

Belov, E. A. The Moscow Turmoil at the End of the 17th Century // ZhMNP. 1887. No. 1–2.

Legislative Acts of Peter I. Moscow; Leningrad, 1945. Vol. 1: Acts on the Highest State Institutions. Edited by N. A. Voskresensky.

Zhelyabuzhsky’s Notes, from 1682 to July 21, 1709. St. Petersburg, 1840.

Notes by Russian People. Events of the Time of Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1841.

Joachim, Patriarch. Life and Testament // Readings at the OLDP. 1897. Vol. 42; also in: Ustryalov (see below). Vol. 2.

Knyazkov, S. Essays on the History of Peter the Great and His Time. Moscow, 1909.

Nartov, A. K. Stories About Peter the Great. Edited by L. N. Maikov // Proceedings of the Academy of Sciences. 1897. Vol. 67.

Natalya Kirillovna // RBS. Naake-Nakensky – Nikolai Nikolaevich the Elder. 1914 (bibliography).

Essays on the History of the USSR. The Feudal Period. Russia in the First Quarter of the 18th Century. The Reforms of Peter I. Moscow, 1954.

Pavlov-Silvansky, N. P. Reform Proposals in the Notes of Peter the Great’s Contemporaries. St. Petersburg, 1897 (Proceedings of the Faculty of History and Philology, St. Petersburg University. Vol. 42).

Correspondence Between Tsar Peter and Patriarch Adrian // Readings. 1876. Vol. 4.

Letters and Papers of Emperor Peter the Great. St. Petersburg; Moscow, 1887–1952. 10 vols.

On Peter I

Bogoslovsky, M. M. Peter the Great’s Provincial Reform. Moscow, 1902.

Bogoslovsky, M. M. Peter I: Materials for a Biography. Moscow, 1940–1948. 5 vols. (up to 1701).

Bogoslovsky, M. M. Peter the Great: An Attempt at a Characterization // Three Centuries. Moscow, 1912. Vol. 3.

Bogoslovsky, M. M. Peter the Great and His Reforms. Moscow, 1920.

Verkhovskoy. Vol. 1. pp. 46–83 (on Peter’s religiosity).

Golikov, I. I. The Deeds of Peter the Great. Moscow, 1788–1793. 12 vols.; 2nd ed. Moscow, 1790–1797. 18 vols.; 3rd ed. Moscow, 1837–1843. 15 vols.

Zaozersky, P. On Ecclesiastical Authority. Sergiev Posad, 1894. pp. 315–328 (on Peter’s religiosity).

Kafengauts, B. “Questions of Historiography in the Era of Peter the Great” // Historical Notes. 1944. Vol. 9.

Klyuchevsky, V. O. “Peter the Great Among His Colleagues” // Klyuchevsky, V. O. Essays and Speeches. Moscow, 1913; 2nd ed. Moscow, 1918; also in: Klyuchevsky, V. O. Historical Portraits. Moscow, 1990.

Mintzlov, R. Peter the Great in Foreign Literature. St. Petersburg, 1872.

Peter the Great: A Collection of Articles. Edited by A. I. Andreev. Moscow; Leningrad, 1947. Vol. 1.

Platonov, S. F. Peter the Great: Personality and Activities. Leningrad, 1926; 2nd ed. Paris, 1927.

Pogodin, M. P. The First Seventeen Years of the Life of Emperor Peter the Great. Moscow, 1879.

Peter’s Reforms: A Collection of Documents. Edited by V. I. Lebedev. Moscow, 1937.

Theophan (Prokopovich), Bishop. The History of Emperor Peter the Great. 2nd ed. Moscow, 1788 (up to 1709).

Shmurlo, E. Peter the Great as Assessed by His Contemporaries and Posterity. St. Petersburg, 1912.

Bruckner, A. Peter the Great. Berlin, 1880 (General History in Individual Studies, ed. by W. Oncken, vol. 3, no. 6).

Smolitsch, I. Russian Monasticism (see: general literature). Chapter 13.

Sommer, E. Fr. “The Young Tsar Peter in the German Sloboda of Moscow” // JGO. 1957. Vol. 5.

Stupperich, R. Peter the Great’s Concept of the State and Religious Policy. Königsberg im Pr.; B., 1936 (Forschungen. Neue Folge 22).

Sumner, B. H. Peter the Great and the Emergence of Russia. London, 1950.

Skvortsov, G. Patriarch Adrian: His Life and Works in Relation to the State of the Russian Church in the Last Decades of the 17th Century // Prav. Sob. 1913.

Smirnov, P. Patriarch Joachim // Readings at the OLDP. 1881. Vol. 1.

Syromyatnikov, B. I. “The ‘Regular’ State of Peter the Great and Its Ideology.” Moscow; Leningrad, 1943. Vol. 1.

Ternovsky, F. The Religious Character of Russian Sovereigns of the 18th Century. Kazan, 1874.

Tumansky, F. Collection of Various Notes and Writings Providing a Complete Account of the Life and Activities of Emperor Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1787–1788. 10 vols.

Ustryalov, N. G. The History of the Reign of Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1858–1859. Vol. 1–4, 6.

O’Brien, C. B. *Russia under Two Tsars, 1682–1689: The Regency of Sofia Alekseevna*. Berkeley; Los Angeles, 1952.

Wittram, R. Peter the Great: Russia’s Entry into the Modern Era. Berlin, 1954.

Wittram, R. “Peter the Great’s Relationship to Religion and the Church” // Helte Zeitschrifte. 1952. Vol. 173.

Aleyev, V. “On Peter the Great’s ‘Spiritual Regulations’” // Moscow University Bulletin. 1871. No. 9.

Barsov, E. “On Secular Tax Collectors and Ecclesiastical Inquisitors” // ZhMNP. 1878. Part 2.

Barsov, T. V. The Holy Synod in Its Past. St. Petersburg, 1896.

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Past. St. Petersburg, 1897 (see M. Gorchakov’s review of this book in: Report on the 40th Awarding of the Count Uvarov Prize. St. Petersburg, 1899).

Belogostitsky, V. “Peter the Great’s Reform of the Higher Church Administration” // ZhMNP. 1892. Parts 6–7.

Belokurov, S. A. “Official Letters (1700–1705)” // Readings. 1888. Vol. 2.

Vvedensky, S. N. “On the Biography of Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky” // Christian Readings. 1912. No. 8.

Verkhovskoy. The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Verkhovskoy, P. V. Essays on the History of the Russian Church in the 18th–19th Centuries. Warsaw, 1912. Vol. 1.

Vostokov, N. “The Holy Synod and Its Relationship to Other State Institutions under Peter I” // ZhMNP. 1875. Parts 7–8, 12.

Vysotsky, N. G. “On the Case of Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich” // Russian Archives. 1912. No. 6.

Golikova, N. B. Political Trials Under Peter I. Moscow, 1957.

Golubinsky, E. E. On the Reform of the Russian Church’s Internal Affairs // Readings. 1913. Vol. 3.

Gorchakov, M. The Monastic Office: An Attempt at a Historical-Legal Study. St. Petersburg, 1868.

Gorchakov, M. The Most Holy Governing Synod // ES. Vol. 30.

Gromov, P. “Peter the Great’s Reforms of Church Administration in Russia” // Faith and Reason. 1890. No. 11; 1891. Nos. 1–2.

Jordan, F. The Holy Synod under Peter the Great in Relation to the Governing Senate. Tiflis, 1882.

Reports and Rulings of the Governing Senate during the Reign of Peter the Great. Edited by N. F. Dubrovin. St. Petersburg, 1880–1901. 6 vols. (up to 1716).

“Spiritual Regulations”: 1) PSZ. Vol. 6, No. 3718; 2) St. Petersburg, 1722; 3) Monuments of Russian History, edited by M. Lyubavsky et al. Moscow, 1910. Vol. 7; 4) Collection of Monuments on the History of Canon Law, ed. B. Benesevich. Petrograd, 1915; 5) Verkhovskaya. Vol. 2; 6) Mansi. Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio. 36.

Esipov, G. V. Collection of Documents on the Case of Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich. Moscow, 1861.

Zavyalov, A. The Question of Church Estates under Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1900.

Memorandum by L. Magnitsky on the Tveritinov Case // PDP. 1882. Vol. 38.

Zinchenko, I. K. “On Our Highest Church Administration” // Russkiy Vestnik. 1891. No. 4.

Znamensky, P. V. “On Peter I’s Legislation Concerning the Clergy and the Purity of Faith and Ecclesiastical Piety” // Prav. Sob. 1863. No. 7, 9–10; 1864. No. 10–12.

Kedrov, N. “The Ecclesiastical Regulations” in Connection with the Reforms of Peter the Great. Moscow, 1886.

Korolev, A. Stefan Yavorsky // RBS. Smelovsky-Suvorina. 1909.

Kostomarov, N. I. Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich // Ancient and Modern Russia. 1875.

Obratsov, P. N. “The Early Years of Synodal Administration” // ZhMNP. 1868. Vol. 140.

Olshevsky. The Holy Synod under Peter the Great: Its Organization and Activities // University News. 1894. Nos. 1–4.

Petrovsky, S. “On the Senate During the Reign of Peter the Great” // OAMYU. 1876. Vol. 3.

Pogodin, M. P. The Trial of Tsarevich Alexei. Moscow, 1860.

Popov, V. “On the Holy Synod and Its Institutions During the Reign of Peter I (1721–1725)” // ZhMNP. 1881. Parts 2–3.

Rozanov, N. History of the Moscow Diocesan Administration from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy Synod (1721–1821). Moscow, 1866–1871. 3 vols. in 5 books.

Runkiewicz, S. G. Bishops of the Petrine Era in Their Correspondence with Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1905.

List of Bishops, the All-Russian Hierarchy, and Episcopal Sees from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy and Righteous Synod (1721–1895). St. Petersburg, 1896.

Temnikovsky, E. N. “One of the Sources of the ‘Spiritual Regulations’” // Collection of the Kharkiv Historical and Philological Society. 1909. Vol. 18.

Ternovsky, F. “Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky” // TKDA. 1864. Nos. 3, 6.

Ternovsky, F. “Moscow Heretics During the Reign of Peter I.” K., 1863; also in: Pravda Obraztsova, 1863, Nos. 10–11.

Ternovsky, F. Stefan Yavorsky and Dimitry Tveritinov // Supplements. 1862. Vol. 21.

“Notebooks” from Tveritinov’s Investigation File // Prav. ob. 1863. No. 8.

Tikhomirov, P. V. The Canonical Merits of Peter the Great’s Reforms // BV. 1904. Vol. 1–2.

Tikhonravov, N. S. “Moscow Freethinkers of the Early 18th Century” // Tikhonravov, N. S. Collected Works. Moscow, 1896. Vol. 2; also in: Russian Journal. 1870. No. 9; 1871. Nos. 2, 6.

Tikhonravov, N. S. Stefan Yavorsky // Russian Journal. 1870. Vol. 89.

Ustryalov, N. G. History of the Reign of Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1859. Vol. 6 (The Case of Tsarevich Alexei).

Theophanes (Prokopovich). History of Emperor Peter the Great. 2nd ed. Moscow, 1788 (up to 1709).

Theophanes (Prokopovich). On the Elevation of the Patriarchal Title. St. Petersburg, 1721.

Theophanes (Prokopovich). The Truth of the Monarch’s Will. St. Petersburg, 1722; 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1726; also in: PSZ. Vol. 7, No. 4870.

Theophanes (Prokopovich). A Historical Inquiry into the Reasons Why and in What Sense the Roman Emperors—Both Pagan and Christian—Were Called Pontiffs or Archbishops of the Polytheistic Law; and whether, under the Christian law of Christianity, rulers may be called bishops and archpriests, and in what sense // Verkhovskaya. Vol. 2; the same. St. Petersburg, 1721.

Theophanes (Prokopovich). Instructive, Eulogistic, and Congratulatory Sermons and Speeches. St. Petersburg, 1760–1768. 4 vols.

Theophanes (Prokopovich). Sermon at the Funeral of Peter the Great // Ibid. 1761. Vol. 2.

Theophanes (Prokopovich). Epistolae illustrissimi ad reverendissimi variis temporibus et ad varios amicos datae. Moscow, 1766

On Theophanes Prokopovich:

Verkhovskoy. Vol. 1–2.

Vysotsky, N. G. “Theophanes Prokopovich and His Collaborators” // Russian Archives. 1913. No. 9.

Gurvich, G. “The Truth of the Monarch’s Will” by Theophanes Prokopovich and Its Western European Sources // Scientific Notes of Yuryev University. 1915. Vol. 23. No. 11.

Morozov, P. Feofan Prokopovich as a Writer. St. Petersburg, 1880.

Pekarsky, P. P. Science and Literature in Russia under Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1862. 2 vols.

Petukhov, E. V. Russian Literature: The Ancient Period. Yuryev, 1911; 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1913.

Runkevich, S. G. “Theophanes Prokopovich in His Correspondence with Peter the Great” // Stranik. 1906. No. 2.

Samarin, Yu. F. Stefan Yavorsky and Theophanes Prokopovich // Samarin, Yu. F. Collected Works. Moscow, 1880. Vol. 5.

Stefanovich, D. “Theophan Prokopovich as a Canonist” // Vera i Tserkov. 1906.

Titlinov, B. “Theophan Prokopovich” // RBS. Yablonovsky-Fomin. 1913.

Florovsky, G. The Paths of Russian Theology. Paris, 1937 [reprint: Vilnius, 1991].

Chistovich, I. Theophan Prokopovich and His Time. St. Petersburg, 1868.

Koch, H. Russian Orthodoxy in the Petrine Era: A Contribution to the History of Western Influences on East Slavic Thought. Breslau, 1929 (Osteuropa-Institut Breslau, Sources and Studies Section: Religious Studies. New Series 1).

Serech, J. “On Theofan Prokopovie as a Writer and Preacher in His Kiev Period” // Harvard Slavistic Studies. 1954. Vol. 2.

Smolitsch, I. Feofan Prokopovie. Prayers of Thanksgiving for the Autocracy of Empress Anna Ioannovna // Zeitschrift für Slavistic Philologie. 1956. Vol. 25.

Stupperich, R. “Feofan Prokopovie in Rome” // ZOG. 1931. Vol. 1.

Stupperich, R. “Feofan Prokopovie and His Academic Work in Kyiv” // Zeitschrift für Slavistische Philologie. 1940. Vol. 17.

Stupperich, R. Prokopov’s Theological Endeavors // Kyrios. 1936. Vol. 1.

Filippov, A. I. The Governing Senate during the Reign of Peter the Great // History of the Governing Senate over Two Hundred Years (1711–1911). St. Petersburg, 1911. Vol. 1.

Imperial and Patriarchal Decree on the Establishment of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1839; 1845 (in Russian only).

Tsvetaev, D. “The Tveritinov Case” // Prav. Ob. 1883. No. 11.

Chistovich, I. Metropolitan Job of Novgorod: His Life and Correspondence with Various Individuals // Stranik. 1861. No. 1.

Shimko, I. I. The Patriarchal State Office: Its External History, Structure, and Activities // OAMYU. 1894. Vol. 9.

Barsov, E. A. Old Russian Monuments of the Sacred Coronation of Tsars // Readings. 1883. Vol. 1.

Barshov, Ya. I. On the Religious, Legal, and Historical Significance of the Oath of Allegiance. Moscow, 1882.

Berdnikov, I. S. A Brief Course in Canon Law. Kazan, 1888; 2nd ed. Kazan, 1903. 2 vols.; 3rd ed. 1913. 2 vols.

Waldenberg, V. Old Russian Doctrines on the Limits of Tsar’s Power: Essays on Russian Political Literature from St. Vladimir to the End of the 17th Century. Petrograd, 1916.

Verkhovskoy, P. V. Essays on the History of the Russian Church in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Warsaw, 1912. Vol. 1.

Verkhovskoy, P. V. “Article 65 of the Fundamental Laws” // Church Truth. Berlin, 1913.

Gradovsky, A. The Beginnings of Russian Public Law. St. Petersburg, 1875–1883. 3 vols.

Zaozersky, N. On Sacred and Secular Authority and on the Forms of Organization of the Orthodox Church. Moscow, 1891.

Kazansky, P. E. The Authority of the All-Russian Emperor. Odessa, 1913.

Kartashov, A. V. “Orthodoxy and Russia” // Orthodoxy in Life. New York, 1953.

Kartashov, A. V. “The Church and the State” // Ibid.

Kataev, N. On the Sacred Coronation and Anointing of Tsars. St. Petersburg, 1847.

Lazarevsky, N. Russian Public Law. 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1913. Vol. 1.

Loparev, Kh. “On the Rite of Coronation of Russian Tsars” // ZhMNP. 1887. No. 10.

Milash, N. Orthodox Canon Law. St. Petersburg, 1897; 2nd ed. Petrograd, 1917.

Nolde, B. E. Essays on Russian State Law. St. Petersburg, 1911.

Ostrogorsky, G. “The Relationship Between Church and State in Byzantium” // Seminarium Kondacovianum. 1931. Vol. 6.

Pavlov, A. S. A Course in Ecclesiastical Law. Moscow, 1897; 2nd ed. Sergiev Posad, 1902.

Popov, K. The Rite of Sacred Coronation. 2: The Rite of Coronation in Rus’ // BV. 1896. Vol. 4–5.

Romanovich-Slavyatinsky, A. V. The System of Russian Public Law. Kiev, 1886.

Suvorov, N. S. Course in Canon Law. Yaroslavl, 1889–1890. 2 vols.

Suvorov, N. S. Textbook on Canon Law. Yaroslavl, 1898; 3rd ed. Moscow, 1908; 4th ed. 1912; 5th ed. 1913.

Temnikovsky, E. N. The Position of the Emperor of All Russia in the Russian Orthodox Church in Relation to the General Doctrine of Ecclesiastical Authority. Yaroslavl, 1909; also in: Legal Notes of the Demidov Law Lyceum. 1909. No. 1 (3).

Shakhmatoff, M. V. “State-National Ideas in the ‘Official Books’ of the Coronation of the Moscow Sovereigns.” *Proceedings of the Russian Scientific Institute in Belgrade*. 1930. Vol. 1.

Engelmann, J. The Constitutional Law of the Russian Empire. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1889.

The Constitutional Charter of the Russian Empire. Preface by Th. Shiemann. B., 1903.

Gribovsky, W. The Constitutional Law of the Russian Empire. Tübingen, 1912 (Contemporary Public Law, vol. 17).

Kartashov, A. V. “The Emergence of Imperial Synodal Authority under Constantine the Great, Its Theological Justification, and Its Ecclesiastical Reception” // Church and Cosmos: Orthodox and Evangelical Christianity. Study Journal. Witten-Ruhr, 1950. No. 2.

Kartashov, A. V. The Orthodox Church of the East: A Comprehensive Historical Overview // Kyrios. 1936. Vol. 1.

Maltzev, A. The Holy Coronation According to the Rite of the Orthodox-Catholic Church of the East. B., 1896.

Milasch, N. The Canon Law of the Eastern Church. Zara, 1897; 2nd ed. Mostar, 1905.

Milas, N. Orthodox Canon Law. 3rd ed. Belgrade, 1926.

Ostrogorsky, G. History of the Byzantine State. Munich, 1940; 2nd ed., 1957.

Schaeder, H. Moscow—The Third Rome. Hamburg, 1929; 2nd ed. Darmstadt, 1957.

Sickel, W. “Byzantine Coronation Law up to the 10th Century” // BZ. 1898. Vol. 7.

Treitinger, O. The Eastern Roman Imperial and Imperial Ideal as Reflected in Court Ceremonial. Jena, 1938.

Treitinger, O. “On the Eastern Roman Concept of State and Empire” // Leipziger Vierteljahrsschrift für Südosteuropa. 1940. Vol. 4.

Vernadsky, G. V. The Constitutional Charter of the Russian Empire of 1820. Paris, 1933.

Barsov, T. V. “On Ecclesiastical Censorship in Russia” // Christian Readings. 1901. No. 5–9.

Barsov, T. V. On the Collection of Ecclesiastical Laws. St. Petersburg, 1898.

Barsov, T. V. “On Legal Proceedings for Misconduct and Crimes Subjecting Clergy to Secular Courts” // Christian Readings, 1875, Part 2, No. 6.

Barsov, T. V. Collection of Current and Guiding Ecclesiastical and Ecclesiastical-Civil Decrees of the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1885. Vol. 1.

Barsov, T. V. The Holy Synod in Its History. St. Petersburg, 1896.

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Modern Era. St. Petersburg, 1899.

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Past. St. Petersburg, 1897.

Berdnikov, I. S. On the Question of Reforming Church Administration and Jurisdiction. Kazan, 1906.

Berdnikov, I. S. A Brief Course on the Canon Law of the Orthodox Church. Kazan, 1888; 2nd ed., 1903–1913. 2 vols.

Blagovidov, F. The Chief Prosecutors of the Holy Synod in the 18th and First Half of the 19th Centuries. Kazan, 1899; 2nd ed., 1900.

Bogoslovsky, A. M. Collection of Articles from the Judicial Statutes of November 20, 1864, Pertaining to the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1872.

Verkhovsky, P. V. Essays on the History of the Russian Church in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Warsaw, 1912. Vol. 1.

Zavyalov, A. On Marriage and Divorce. Moscow, 1892.

Zagorovsky, P. On Divorce under Russian Law. Kharkiv, 1884.

Zaozersky, N. A. A Historical Survey of the Sources of Orthodox Church Law. Moscow, 1891. Vol. 1: Canonical Sources.

Zdravomyslov, K. Ya. Information on Consistorial Archives and Ecclesiastical-Archaeological Institutions in Dioceses, the Project of the Arch-Imperially Approved Archival-Archaeological Commission under the Holy Synod, and the Regulations on Ecclesiastical-Archival Commissions. St. Petersburg, 1908.

Ivanovsky, Ya. A Survey of Ecclesiastical and Civil Legislation under the Spiritual Department (as Applied to the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories and the Code of Laws with Historical Notes). 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1893; 3rd ed. 1900.

Ivantsov-Platonov, A. I. On Russian Ecclesiastical Administration. Moscow, 1898.

Ioann (Sokolov), Archimandrite. General Principles Guiding the Holy Synod in the Application of the Rules of the Ancient Church // Christian Readings. 1875. Vol. 2. No. 6.

John (Sokolov), Archimandrite. The Basis for the Holy Synod’s Decisions on Ecclesiastical and Judicial Matters // Christian Readings. 1875. Vol. 2.

Kalashnikov (see bibliography for Introduction B).

The Book of Rules of the Holy Apostles, the Holy Ecumenical and Local Councils, and the Holy Fathers. St. Petersburg, 1839 (Greek and Church Slavonic); 1843 (Church Slavonic); 1865 (Greek and Church Slavonic); 1893 (Church Slavonic)

Kotovich, A. Ecclesiastical Censorship in Russia, 1799–1855. St. Petersburg, 1909.

Lavrov, A. E. The Proposed Reform of the Ecclesiastical Court. St. Petersburg, 1873–1874. 2 vols.

Milash, N. Rules of the Orthodox Church with Commentaries. St. Petersburg, 1911. 2 vols.; 2nd ed. 1917. 2 vols.

Milovanov, I. On Ecclesiastical Crimes and Punishments. St. Petersburg, 1888.

Opinions of Ecclesiastical Consistories Regarding the Draft Reform of the Ecclesiastical Judicial System. St. Petersburg, 1874. Vol. 1.

Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on the Proposal to Reform Diocesan Administration. St. Petersburg, 1874. 2 vols.

Nechaev, P. N. A Practical Guide (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Nikolsky, A. E. New Ecclesiastical Laws. Moscow, 1879. 2 vols.

On the Offices of Parish Priests, Compiled from the Word of God, Collected Canons, and the Teachings of the Church. St. Petersburg, 1776.

Pavlov, A. S. Course in Canon Law. 2nd ed. Sergiev Posad, 1902.

Pavlov, A. S. Nomocanon to the Great Book of Liturgical Rites. Odessa, 1872; 2nd ed. Moscow, 1897.

The Rules of the Holy Apostles, the Holy Ecumenical and Local Councils, and the Holy Fathers, with Commentaries. Moscow, 1876. 3 vols. and subsequent eds.

Rosenkampf, G. A. A Historical Overview of the Kormchaya Kniga. Moscow, 1829.

Runovsky, N. Ecclesiastical and Civil Laws Concerning the Orthodox Clergy During the Reign of Emperor Alexander II. Kazan, 1898.

The Most Holy Governing Synod: Review of Certain Aspects of the Activities of the Ecclesiastical Department for 1910. St. Petersburg, 1913.

Sokolov, N. K. “On the Principles and Forms of Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction in Light of Contemporary Needs” // Prav. Ob. 1870, Nos. 5–6; 1871, Nos. 3, 5.

Composition of the Holy Governing Synod and the Russian Church Hierarchy as of 1915. Petrograd, 1915.

Lists of Bishops of the All-Russian Hierarchy and Episcopal Sees from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy Synod (1721–1895). St. Petersburg, 1896.

Stroev, P. Lists of Hierarchs and Abbots of Monasteries of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1877.

Suvorov, N. S. A Course in Canon Law (see bibliography for § 5).

Suvorov, N. S. On Ecclesiastical Punishments. St. Petersburg, 1876.

Suvorov, N. S. Textbook on Canon Law (see bibliography for § 5).

Decrees and Guidelines for the Orthodox Clergy, Holy Synod (1721–1878). St. Petersburg, 1878.

Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories. St. Petersburg, 1841; 1883; 1912.

Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories with Additions and Clarifications by the Holy Synod and the Governing Senate. Edited by M. N. Palibin. Unofficial edition. St. Petersburg, 1900; 2nd ed., 1912.

Filippov, A. N. Members of the Holy Synod and Its Chief Prosecutors, 1721–1799. // Readings. 1917. Vol. 2.

Chronological Index of Legislation Pertaining to the Ecclesiastical Department of the Orthodox Faith. Perm, 1878–1880. 2 vols.

Circular Decrees of the Holy Synod. 1867–1895. Edited by A. Zavyalov. Unofficial edition. St. Petersburg, 1896; 2nd ed. 1901.

Chizhevsky, I. The Structure of the Russian Orthodox Church (see bibliography in Introduction B).

Shakhmatoff, M., and Kostritsyn, N. “An Overview of the History of the Codification of Ecclesiastical Rules and Regulations of the Orthodox Greek-Russian Church from the Late 18th Century to the Present” // Journal of the Ministry of Justice. 1917. No. 2–3.

Biener, F. *Das canonische Recht der griechischen Kirche*. Dresden, 1853.

Herman (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Herman, A., and Wuyts, A. *Textus selecti* (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Milas, N. Orthodox Church Law. Belgrade, 1926.

Milasch, N. On the Canonical Collections of the Orthodox Church. 1886.

Zachariae von Lingenthal, E. The Greek Nomocanones. St. Petersburg, 1877 (Memoirs of the Imperial Academy of Sciences of St. Petersburg. Series 7. Vol. 23. No. 7).

Zhismann, J. The Marriage Law of the Eastern Church. Vienna, 1864.

Barsov, T. V. Collection of Current and Guiding Regulations (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Modern Era. St. Petersburg, 1899.

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Past. St. Petersburg, 1897.

Blagovidov, F. The Chief Prosecutors of the Holy Synod in the 18th and First Half of the 19th Centuries. Kazan, 1899; 2nd ed., 1900

Verkhovskoy, P. V. Essays on History (see bibliography for §§ 2–4).

Excerpts from the Nechaev Archive // Old and New. St. Petersburg, 1905. Vol. 9.

Gorchakov, M. “Review of ‘Letter to Prof. Treitschke Regarding Some of His Opinions on the Russian Orthodox Church, dated NN.’ Leipzig, 1874” // Collection of State Knowledge. St. Petersburg, 1875. Vol. 2.

Dostoevsky and Pobedonostsev: Letters by F. M. Dostoevsky // The Red Archive. 1922. Vol. 2.

Ivantsov-Platonov, A. I. On Russian Church Administration. Moscow, 1898.

Kalashnikov (see bibliography for Introduction B).

The First Weeks of Alexander III’s Reign. Letters from K. P. Pobedonostsev to E. F. Tyutcheva // Russian Archives. 1907. Vol. 2.

Correspondence between N. I. Subbotin and K. P. Pobedonostsev // Readings. 1915. No. 1.

Letters from Pobedonostsev to Alexander III. Moscow, 1925–1926. 2 vols.

Pobedonostsev, K. P. Diary (1842–1875) // Russian Archives. 1907. Vol. 3.

Pobedonostsev, K. P. The Moscow Collection. Moscow, 1896; 2nd ed. 1897; 5th ed. 1907; also in English: Reflections of a Russian Statesman. London, 1898; in German: Streitfragen der Gegenwart. 3rd ed. Berlin, 1897; in French: Questions religieuses, sociales et politiques. Paris, 1898.

Pobedonostsev, K. P., and His Correspondents: Letters and Notes. Moscow; Petrograd, 1923. Vol. 1 (Parts 1–2).

On K. P. Pobedonostsev:

Gautier, Yu. V. K. P. Pobedonostsev and His Heir Alexander Alexandrovich (1865–1881) // Collection of the V. I. Lenin Public Library of the USSR. 1928. Vol. 2.

Kizevetter, A. A. Pobedonostsev // In a Foreign Land. Prague, 1924. Vol. 4.

Nikolsky, V. N. “The Literary Work of K. P. Pobedonostsev” // Istoricheskie Vesti. 1896. No. 9.

Nolde, B. E. “An Overview of K. P. Pobedonostsev’s Scholarly Legal Work” // ZhMNP. 1907. Part 8.

Preobrazhensky, I. V. K. P. Pobedonostsev: His Personality and Activities as Perceived by His Contemporaries at the Time of His Death. St. Petersburg, 1912.

The Fiftieth Anniversary of K. P. Pobedonostsev’s Public Service // Istoricheskie Vestniki. 1896. No. 7.

R. S. P. A Few Remarks on the Russian Church During K. P. Pobedonostsev’s Tenure as Chief Prosecutor. Leipzig, 1887.

Lists of Chief Prosecutors up to 1865 // Russian Archives. 1866. No. 4.

Firsov, N. Pobedonostsev // Byloe. 1924. Vol. 25.

Rodzianko, M. W. *Memoirs*. Moscow, 1926.

Shoob, L. Konstantin Petrovich Pobedonoscev: A Study in Redaction. Berkeley, California, 1947.

Slavic, J. “From a Fierce Defender to a Self-Destroyer” // *Slovansky pohled*. 1932. Vol. 4–5.

Steinmann, F., and Hurtwicz, E. Konstantin Petrovich Pobedonoshev, the Statesman of the Reaction under Alexander III. Königsberg i. Pr.; Moscow, 1933 (Sources and Research on Russian History. 2).

The Journal of Yakovlev, Former Chief Prosecutor of the Synod from January 1 to October 7, 1803 // Monuments of Modern Russian Literature. St. Petersburg, 1873. Vol. 3.

Steletsky, N. Prince A. N. Golitsyn and His Ecclesiastical and State Activities. Kyiv, 1901; also in: TKDA. 1900–1901.

Chizhevsky, I. The Structure of the Russian Orthodox Church (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Goetze, P. v. Prince A. N. Gallitzin and His Era. Leipzig, 1882.

Barsov, T. V. The Holy Synod in Its Past. St. Petersburg, 1896.

Barsov, T. V. Synodal Institutions of the Past. St. Petersburg, 1897.

Belikov, V. “The Attitude of the State Authorities Toward the Church and the Clergy During the Reign of Catherine II” // Readings at the OLDP. 1874–1875.

Blagovidov, F. The Chief Prosecutors of the Holy Synod (see bibliography for § 7).

Vedenyapin, P. “Legislation of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna Concerning the Orthodox Clergy” // Prav. ob. 1865. No. 5–7.

Vinogradov, V. Plato and Filaret, Metropolitans of Moscow: A Comparative Characterization // BV. 1913. Vol. 1.

The Internal Affairs of the Russian State from October 17, 1740, to October 25, 1741. Moscow, 1880–1886. 2 vols.

Golubev, A. A. The Holy Synod // Ibid. Vol. 2.

Gorozhansky, I. Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev, Bishop of Nizhny Novgorod // TKDA. 1893. Nos. 11–12; 1894, Nos. 1–7; ibid. Kiev, 1894.

Gribovsky, A. M. Notes on Catherine II. Moscow, 1847; 2nd ed. 1862.

Dianin, V. The Little Russian Clergy in the Second Half of the 18th Century, Based on Its Proposals Submitted to the Catherine Commission for the Drafting of a New Code // TKDA. 1908. No. 8–9.

Dimitri (Tuptalo), St. Daily Notes (1701–1708). Moscow, 1781.

Dimitri (Tuptalo), St. Private Notes. St. Petersburg, 1764; 2nd ed. 1796; 3rd ed. 1800.

Dityatin, I. I. “Supreme Authority in Russia in the 18th Century” // Russian Monthly. 1881. No. 3–4.

Catherine II. Letters to the Chief Prosecutors of the Holy Synod // Russian Archives. 1870. No. 4–5.

Catherine II. Rescripts and Letters // Collection of the Imperial Russian Historical Society. 1866. Vol. 1.

Znamensky, P. V. Readings from the History of the Russian Church During the Reign of Catherine II // Prav. Sob. 1875. No. 1–3.

Ikonnikov, V. S. Arseny Matsievich // Russian Articles. 1879. Nos. 4–5, 8–10.

Klimov, N. Decrees Concerning the Orthodox Clergy and the Church During the Reign of Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1902.

Klochkov, M. An Essay on Government Activities During the Reign of Paul I. Petrograd, 1916 (Proceedings of the Faculty of History and Philology, St. Petersburg University. Vol. 132).

Korsakov, D. A. Anna Ivanovna // RBS. Alexandrovsky-Bestuzhev, 1900.

Korsakov, D. A. The Accession of Anna Ioannovna. Kazan, 1880.

Latkin, V. Legislative Commissions in Russia in the 18th Century. St. Petersburg, 1887. Vol. 1.

Latkin, V. “On the History of Codification in Russia in the 18th Century” // Proceedings of the Ministry of Justice. 1902. May.

Markell (Rodychevsky), Bishop. The Case of Theophan Prokopovich // Readings. 1862. Vol. 1.

Markell (Rodychevsky), Bishop. A Critique of the “Spiritual Regulations” // Verkhovskaya. Vol. 2. (No. 14). Pp. 85–154.

Morev, I. “The Stone of Faith” by Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky, Its Place Among Russian Anti-Protestant Writings, and the Distinctive Features of Its Dogmatic Issues. St. Petersburg, 1904.

Morozov, P. Theophan Prokopovich as a Writer. St. Petersburg, 1880; also in: ZhMNP. 1880.

Moroshkin, I. “Arseny Matsievich and His Work” // Stranik. 1885. No. 3.

Moroškin, I. “Theodosius of Yanov, Archbishop of Novgorod” // Russkiye Stat’i. 1887. Nos. 7, 10, 11.

Moroškin, I. Theophylact Lopatinsky, Archbishop of Ryazan // Russian Articles. 1886. No. 9–10 (Vol. 49).

Decree of Empress Catherine II to the Commission on the Compilation of a New Code // PSZ. Vol. 18, No. 12949 (Chapters 1–20); Vol. 21, No. 13075 (Chapter 21); Vol. 22, No. 13096 (Chapter 22); 2) St. Petersburg, 1767; 1768; 1770; 1796; 1820; 3) Catherine II. Works. Ed. Smirdin. St. Petersburg, 1840. Vol. 1. 4) The Decree. Ed. N. D. Chechulin. St. Petersburg, 1907.

Nikolai Mikhailovich, Grand Duke and Emperor Alexander I. An Essay on Historical Research. St. Petersburg, 1912. 2 vols.; 2nd ed. 1914. 2 vols.

The Eighteenth Century, edited by P. Bartenev. St. Petersburg, 1869. 4 vols.

Platon (Levshin), Metropolitan. Autobiography // Moskvityanin. 1849. No. 1; also in: Dushepnoye Chtenie. 1887. Nos. 2–3; also in: Snegirev, I. M. The Life of Platon, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1856.

Platon (Levshin), Metropolitan. Letters // Russian Voice. 1841. No. 2; Readings. 1895. Vol. 1; Russian Arch. 1897. No. 2.

Platon (Levshin), Metropolitan. Letters to Their Eminences Ambrose and Augustine. Moscow, 1870.

Platon (Levshin), Metropolitan. Works. Moscow, 1799–1806. 20 vols.

Pokrovsky, I. M. The Catherine Commission on the Drafting of a New Code and Church Issues Within It. Kazan, 1910.

Popov, M. S. Arseny Matsievich, Metropolitan of Rostov and Yaroslavl. St. Petersburg, 1905.

Popov, M. S. Arseny Matsievich and His Case. St. Petersburg, 1912.

Prilezhaev, E. M. “Instructions and Points for the Delegate from the Holy Synod to the Catherine Commission on the Drafting of a New Code” // Christian Readings, 1878, No. 2.

Minutes, Journals, and Decrees of the Supreme Privy Council. 4 vols. // Collection. Vols. 55–56, 58–59.

Pypin, A. I. The Social Movement in Russia under Alexander I. 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1900; 4th ed. 1908; 5th ed. Petrograd, 1918.

Rozhdestvensky, F. Samuel Mislavsky, Metropolitan of Kiev // TKDA. 1876.

Rozanov, N. P. Metropolitan Platon of Moscow. Moscow, 1913.

Runkiewicz, S. G. “Platon (Levshin)” // RBS. Plavilshchikov-Priós, 1905.

Russian Life According to the Memoirs of Contemporaries. Moscow, 1914. Vol. 1: From Peter to Catherine II (1698–1761).

Sakharov, A. “The Old Russian Party and the Schism under Peter I” // Stranik. 1882. No. 1.

Snegirev, I. M. The Life of Metropolitan Platon of Moscow. Moscow, 1836; 2nd ed. 1856; 4th ed. 1891.

Snegirev, I. M. A Portrait of the Life of Platon, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1818; 2nd ed. 1822.

Stroev, V. N. The Biron Regency and the Cabinet of Ministers: An Essay on the Domestic Policy of Empress Anna. Moscow; St. Petersburg, 1909–1910. 2 vols.

Titlinov, B. V. Gavriil Petrov, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg (1730–1801). His Life and Activities in Connection with Church Affairs of the Time. St. Petersburg, 1916.

Titlinov, B. V. Metropolitan Platon (Levshin) of Moscow and His Participation in Ecclesiastical and Governmental Affairs of His Time // Christian Readings. 1912. No. 11.

Titlinov, B. V. The Reign of Anna Ioannovna in Relation to the Affairs of the Orthodox Church. Vilnius, 1905.

Titlinov, B. V. Theophan Prokopovich // RBS. Yablonovsky-Fomin. 1913.

On Theophan Prokopovich:

See the bibliography for §§ 2–4.

Markell (Rodychevsky), Bishop. The Case of Theophan Prokopovich // Readings. 1862. Vol. 1.

Markell (Rodychevsky), Bishop. The Life of Metropolitan Theophanes Prokopovich of Novgorod (Descriptive) // Ibid. Vol. 2.

Khrapovitsky, A. V. Diary. 1782–1793. St. Petersburg, 1874.

Chetyrkin, F. V. Plato, Metropolitan of Moscow. 2nd ed. Moscow, 1899.

Chistovich, I. Georgy Dashkov // Pravda Obschestva. 1863. No. 1.

Chistovich, I. “The Case of Markell Rodychevsky vs. Theophan Prokopovich” // Ibid. 1864. No. 9.

Chistovich, I. “From the History of the First Half of the 18th Century: Theophan Prokopovich and Theophylact Lopatinsky” // Ibid. 1860. No. 9.

Chistovich, I. New Materials on the Reshilov Case // Ibid. 1862. No. 2, 4.

Chistovich, I. Theophan Prokopovich and His Time. St. Petersburg, 1868.

Shakhovskoy, Ya. P. Notes. Moscow, 1810; St. Petersburg, 1872.

Schilder, N. K. Emperor Alexander I: His Life and Reign. St. Petersburg, 1897–1898. 4 vols.; 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1904–1905. 4 vols.

Shpachinsky, N. Metropolitan Arseny of Kiev (Mogilyan) and the State of the Kiev Metropolis During His Reign (1757–1770). Kyiv, 1907.

Shcherbatov, M. M. “On the Corruption of Morals in Russia” // Shcherbatov, M. M. Collected Works. St. Petersburg, 1898. Vol. 2; also in: Russian Articles, 1870.

Schtscherbatow, M. M. On the Corruption of Morals in Russia. Königsberg and Prague; B., 1925 (Sources and Essays on Russian History. Vol. 5).

Agathangel (Solovyov), Archbishop. The Captivity of the Russian Church: A Memorandum and Draft of a Most Humble Petition to Emperor Alexander II. Moscow, 1906.

Aivazov, I. Church Issues During the Reign of Emperor Alexander III. Moscow, 1914.

Alexandra Fedorovna, Empress. Letters. Berlin, 1922. 2 vols.

Anthony (Khrapovitsky), Archbishop. Complete Works. Kazan, 1909. Vol. 1–3; Pochaev, 1906. Vol. 4; 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1911. Vol. 1–3; Kiev, 1918. Vol. 4.

Anthony (Khrapovitsky), Metropolitan. A Collection of Selected Writings. Jubilee Edition. Belgrade, 1935 (with a brief biography and an overview of his ecclesiastical and political activities).

Verkhovskoy, P. V. Essays (see bibliography for §§ 2–4).

Witte, S. Yu. Memoirs. Childhood. The Reigns of Emperors Alexander II and Alexander III. Berlin, 1923.

Witte, S. Yu. Memoirs. The Reign of Nicholas II. Berlin, 1922. 2 vols.

Glubokovsky, N. N. His Eminence Smaragd (Kryzhanovsky), Archbishop of Ryazan (d. November 2, 1863): His Life and Work. St. Petersburg, 1914.

State Duma: Reports of the Budget Committee (see bibliography for Introduction B).

State Duma: Verbatim Reports (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Dobroklonsky. Moscow, 1893. Vol. 4: The Synodal Period, 1700–1890 (see general bibliography).

Dovnar-Zapolsky, M. I. An Overview of Modern Russian History. Kiev, 1912. Vol. 1.

Evgeny (Kazantsev), Archbishop. Diary // Spiritual Readings. 1868. No. 3.

Evgeny (Kazantsev), Archbishop. Letters // Christian Readings. 1875. No. 2–3.

Evlogii (Georgievsky), Metropolitan. The Path of My Life: Memoirs of Metropolitan Evlogii (Georgievsky), as recounted by T. Manukhina. Paris, 1947 [also: Moscow, 1994].

Yedlinsky, M. Anatoly Martynovsky, Archbishop of Mogilev // TKDA. 1885. No. 4, 6; 1886. No. 4–6; 1887. No. 7–9.

Yelchukov, A. Theophylact Rusanov, the Famous Russian Hierarch of the Era of Emperor Alexander I // TKDA. 1904. No. 10–11; 1905. No. 9.

Bishop Cyril of Melitopol in His Letters to Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov // Russian Articles. 1889. No. 12; 1890. Nos. 1, 4.

Zhevakhov, N. D. Memoirs of a Comrade of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. Munich, 1923. 2 vols. [Ibid. Moscow, 1993. 2 vols.].

The Life of Nikodim Kazantsev. An Autobiography // BV. 1910. Vol. 1.

Znamensky, P. V. Lectures on the History of the Russian Church during the Reign of Emperor Alexander I. Kazan, 1885; also in: Pravda Soborna, 1885.

Karamzin, N. M. On Ancient and Modern Russia in Its Political and Civil Relations: 1) Pypin, A. N. The Social Movement in Russia under Alexander I. 3rd ed. St. Petersburg, 1900; 4th ed. St. Petersburg, 1908. App. 1. pp. 479–534; 2) Russian Archives, 1877; 3) St. Petersburg, 1914 [also in: Literary Studies, 1988, No. 4].

Karnovich, E. “Prince A. N. Golitsyn and His Time” // Istoricheskie Vesti. 1882. No. 4–5.

Kokovtsev, V. N. From My Past. Paris, 1933. 2 vols.

Kryzhanovsky, S. E. Memoirs. From the Papers of S. E. Kryzhanovsky, the Last State Secretary of the Russian Empire. B. o. J., 1938.

Kuznetsov, N. D. Reforms in the Russian Church: An Examination of the Issue Based on Official Documents in Light of the Needs of the Time. Moscow, 1906.

Leonid (Krasnopevkov), Archbishop. Letters to Archbishop Pimen // Readings. 1877. Vol. 1.

Leontius (Lebedinsky). My Notes and Memoirs. Sergiev Posad, 1914.

M. B. Anthony, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Ladoga. Petrograd, 1915.

Macarius (Bulgakov), Metropolitan. Correspondence // TKDA. 1907. No. 1–2.

Materials for the History of the Orthodox Church during the Reign of Emperor Nicholas I // Collection. 1902. Vol. 113 (Parts 1–2) (ed. N. F. Dubrovin, preface by M. Ya. Moroshkin).

Melgunov, S. P. Events and People of the Alexandrian Era. Berlin, 1923.

Meshchersky, V. P. My Memoirs. St. Petersburg, 1897–1912. 3 vols.

Milyutin, D. A. Diary. Moscow, 1947–1951. 4 vols.

Muravyov, A. N. “Notes on the State of the Orthodox Church in Russia,” *Russian Archives*, 1883, No. 3.

Muravyov, A. N. Letters. Kiev, 1875.

Naumov, A. N. From Surviving Memoirs, 1868–1917. New York, 1954–1955. 2 vols.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Biographical Materials. Odessa, 1901. Vol. 1.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Notes // Russian Arch. 1906. 2–3. Nos. 7–12.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. From Notes // Ibid. 1908. Nos. 1, 5.

Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Letters // Ibid. 1909. Vol. 2. No. 6.

Nicodemus (Kazantsev), Archbishop. Notes // Readings. 1877. Vol. 2.

Nicodemus (Kazantsev), Archbishop. On the Most Holy Synod // BV. 1905. Vol. 3, 10–11.

Nikolai Mikhailovich, Grand Duke Emperor Alexander I (see bibliography for § 8).

Nikon (Rklitsky), Bishop. Biography of His Beatitude Anthony, Metropolitan of Kiev and Galicia. New York, 1956–1958. 4 vols.

Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on the Question of Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1906. 3 vols. and a supplementary vol.

The Fall of the Tsarist Regime: Verbatim Transcripts of Interrogations and Testimonies Given in 1917 Before the Extraordinary Investigative Commission of the Provisional Government. Edited by P. E. Shcheglov. Moscow; Leningrad, 1924–1927. 7 vols.

Correspondence of Nicholas and Alexandra Romanov. Moscow; Leningrad, 1923–1927. Vol. 3–5 (Vol. 1–2 were not published).

Polievktov, E. Nicholas I: Biography and Overview of His Reign. Moscow, 1918.

Porphyry (Uspensky), Bishop. The Book of My Life. St. Petersburg, 1894–1902. 8 vols.

Presnyakov, A. E. Alexander I. Petrograd, 1924.

Professor P. S. Kazansky of the Moscow Theological Academy and His Correspondence with Archbishop Platon of Kostroma. Edited by A. A. Belyaev // BV. 1903–1905, 1910–1914, 1916.

Stories by Prince A. N. Golitsyn. From the notes of Y. P. Bartenev // Russian Archives. 1886. No. 5.

Rodzianko, M. V. The Collapse of the Empire. Notes of the Chairman of the Russian State Duma // Archive of the Russian Revolution. Berlin, 1926. Vol. 17; ibid. L., 1927.

Rozhdestvensky, S. V. A Historical Overview of the Activities of the Ministry of Public Education. 1802–1902. St. Petersburg, 1902.

Runkiewicz, S. G. The Russian Church in the 19th Century (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Savva (Tikhomirov), Archbishop. Chronicle of My Life. Sergiev Posad, 1897–1911. 9 vols.

Sergius (Vasilyevsky), Archimandrite. His Eminence Filaret, known as Theodosius (Amphiteatrov) in monastic life, Metropolitan of Kiev and Galicia, and His Era. Kazan, 1888. 3 vols.

Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. Letters to A. V. Gorsky. Moscow, 1885.

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan (for his letters and other writings, see the bibliography in Introduction B).

Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Letter to Protopresbyter Bazhanov Regarding a Note on the State of the Orthodox Church in Russia // Pastoral Readings. 1889. No. 4.

On Filaret (Drozdov):

Zaozersky, N. A. Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, as Administrator and Judge in His Diocese // Additions. 1883. No. 2.

Korsunsky, I. Saint Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow: His Life and Ministry at the See of Moscow, as Reflected in His Sermons in Connection with the Events and Circumstances of That Time. 1827–1867. Kharkiv, 1894.

Korsunsky, I. Filaret Drozdov // RBS. Faber-Tsavlovsky. 1900.

Nazarevsky, V. The Political Teachings of Metropolitan Filaret. 2nd ed. Moscow, 1885; 3rd ed. Moscow, 1888.

Naumov, D. Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, as a Canonist. Moscow, 1893.

An Essay on the Life of His Eminence Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna. Moscow, 1868; 2nd ed. Moscow, 1869.

A collection published by the Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment on the occasion of the centennial celebration of the birth (1782–1867) of Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1882–1883. 2 vols.

Smirnov, A. A. Childhood, Adolescence, Youth, Years of Study, and Teaching at the Trinity Lavra Seminary of Metropolitan Filaret (1782–1808). Moscow, 1893.

Smirnov, A. A. The St. Petersburg Period of Metropolitan Filaret’s Life (1808–1819). Moscow, 1894.

Smirnov, A. A. Filaret, Archbishop of Tver, Yaroslavl, and Moscow (1819–1826). Moscow, 1896.

Sushkov, N. V. Notes on the Life and Times of St. Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1868.

Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. 1867–1917. A collection of articles marking the 50th anniversary of the death of Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. Sergiev Posad, 1918.

Florovsky, G. “Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow” // Put’. Paris, 1928. No. 12.

Florovsky, G. The Paths of Russian Theology. Paris, 1937 [reprint: Vilnius, 1991].

Jugie, M. “Philarete Drozdov” // DTC. 1933. Vol. 13, No. 1. pp. 1376–1395 (bibliography).

Chistovich, I. A. Leading Figures in Religious Education in Russia in the First Half of the Current Century. Commission on Religious Schools. St. Petersburg, 1894.

Shilder, N. K. Emperor Alexander I (see bibliography for § 8).

Shishkov, A. S. Notes, Opinions, and Correspondence. Edited by Kiselev and Yu. Samarin. St. Petersburg, 1863; 2nd ed. Berlin, 1870. Vol. 1.

Shulgin, V. V. Days. Belgrade, 1925; the same in German: Schulgin, W. Tage: Memoirs from the Russian Revolution (1905–1917). Königsberg and Prague; Berlin, 1928 (Sources and Essays on Russian History, Vol. 8).

Alexandra Fedorovna. The Letters of the Tsaritsa to the Tsar. 1914–1916. London, 1923.

Alexandra Fedorovna. The Letters of the Tsar to the Tsarina. 1914–1917. London, 1927.

Curtiss, J. S. *Church and State in Russia: The Last Years of the Empire, 1900–1917*. New York, 1940.

Dalton, H. Memoirs. Berlin, 1907–1908. 3 vols.

Goetze, P. v. and Furst, A. N. Gallitzin and His Time. Leipzig, 1882.

Gurko, V. I. *Features and Figures of the Past: Government and Opinion in the Reign of Nicholas II*. Stanford; London; Oxford, 1939.

Leontowitsch, V. History (see general bibliography, b).

Rodzianko, M. V. Memoirs. Moscow, 1926.

Arseny (Matsievich). Report to the Holy Synod // Readings. 1862. Vol. 2.

Belikov, V. The Attitude of the State Authorities Toward the Church and the Clergy During the Reign of Catherine II // Readings at the OLDP. 1874–1875.

Budilovich, A. A Historical Study of Immovable Church Property in Western Russia. Warsaw, 1882.

Vedenyapin, P. “Legislation of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna Concerning the Orthodox Clergy” // Prav. ob. 1865. No. 5–7.

Verkhovskoy, P. V. Inhabited Real Estate Estates of the Holy Synod, Archbishop’s Residences, and Monasteries Under the Immediate Successors of Peter the Great. The Board of Finance and the Chancellery of the Synodal Economic Administration (July 15, 1726 – May 12, 1763). St. Petersburg, 1909.

Gorchakov, M. The Monastic Office. St. Petersburg, 1868.

Gorchakov, M. On the Landholdings of the All-Russian Metropolitans, Patriarchs, and the Holy Synod (988–1738). St. Petersburg, 1871.

Gautier, Y. An Essay on the History of Land Ownership in Russia. Sergiev Posad, 1915.

Grigorovich, N. An Overview of the Establishment of Orthodox Monasteries in Russia Since the Introduction of Staffing Levels by the Spiritual Department (1764–1869). St. Petersburg, 1869.

Denisov, L. I. Orthodox Monasteries of the Russian Empire. Moscow, 1908.

Zavyalov, A. The Question of Church Estates under Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1900.

Zverinsky, V. Materials for a Historical and Topographical Study of Orthodox Monasteries in the Russian Empire. St. Petersburg, 1890–1897. 3 vols.

Znamensky, P. V. Peter the Great’s Legislation Concerning the Clergy. 3: Decrees Concerning the Monastic Clergy // Collection of Laws. 1863. Part 3.

Znamensky, P. V. Church Estates under Peter the Great // Ibid. 1864. Part 1.

Ivanovsky, V. Russian Legislation of the 18th and 19th Centuries in Its Decrees Concerning Monasteries and Monks. Kharkiv, 1905.

Kalashnikov (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Kasatkin, I. Collection of Legal Provisions on the Procedure for the Acquisition of Real Estate by Churches, Monasteries, and Institutions of the Spiritual Department, and on Measures for the Protection of Church Lands. Nizhny Novgorod, 1904.

Kuznetsov, N. D. “On the Question of Church Property and the State’s Attitude Toward Church Real Estate in Russia” // BV. 1907. Vol. 7–10.

Lyubinetsky, N. A. Land Ownership by Churches and Monasteries in the Russian Empire. St. Petersburg, 1900.

Milyutin, V. “On the Real Estate of the Clergy in Russia” // Readings. 1859. Book 4; ibid. 1860–1861.

Mn. The Number of Monasteries and Monks and Methods of Supporting Monasteries // Stranik. 1883. No. 2–3.

N. M. Russian Monasticism in the 18th Century // Ibid. 1884. No. 1.

Pokrovsky, N. M. “The Question of Our Monasteries” // Pravda Obraztsova. 1876. Part 3.

Popov, M. Arseny Matsievich and His Case. St. Petersburg, 1912.

Rostislavov, D. I. A Study of the Property and Income of Our Monasteries. St. Petersburg, 1876.

Semevsky, V. I. Peasants During the Reign of Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1881–1901. 2 vols.; 2nd ed. St. Petersburg, 1903–1911.

Semevsky, V. I. Peasants on Clerical Estates // Russian Monthly. 1881. No. 9–10.

Chudetsky, P. “An Attempt at a Historical Study of the Number of Russian Monasteries Closed in the 18th and 19th Centuries” // TKDA. 1877. No. 4.

Smolitsch, I. *Russisches Monchtum* (see general bibliography a).

Barsov, T. V. On the Canonical Element in Church Administration. Moscow, 1882.

Barsov, T. V. Collection of Current and Guiding Regulations (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Bogoyavlensky, V. Diocesan Conventions of the Clergy, Their Activities and Significance. Omsk, 1902.

Gorchakov, M. On the Mystery of Marriage. St. Petersburg, 1880.

Grigorovich, N. An Overview of the Establishment of Orthodox Episcopal Sees in Russia Since the Introduction of Staff Positions by the Spiritual Department. 1764–1866. St. Petersburg, 1866.

Durnovo, N. The Nine-Hundredth Anniversary of the Russian Hierarchy, Dioceses, and Archbishops (988–1888). Moscow, 1888.

On Dioceses:

Orthodox Theological Encyclopedia. St. Petersburg, 1800–1911. 12 vols.

Astrakhan

Savvinsky, I. The Astrakhan Diocese (1702–1902). Astrakhan, 1902. Vol. 1.

Savvinsky, I. A Historical Account of the Astrakhan Diocese Over the 300 Years of Its Existence. Astrakhan, 1903.

Warsaw

Lototsky, O. Ecclesiastical-Historical Description of the Warsaw Orthodox Diocese. Pochaiv, 1863. See also Kholm.

Vladimir

Dobronravov, V., and Berezin, V. A Historical and Statistical Description of the Churches and Parishes of the Vladimir Diocese. Vladimir, 1895–1896. 4 vols.

Volyn

Teodorovich, N. Historical and Statistical Description of the Churches and Parishes of the Volyn Diocese. Pochaiv, 1890–1893. 3 vols.

Georgian Exarchate

Kirion (Sadzagelov), Bishop. A Brief Survey of the History of the Georgian Church and Exarchate in the 19th Century. Tiflis, 1901; 2nd ed., 1906.

Don

Kirillov, A. The Don Diocese. Novocherkassk, 1896.

Yekaterinburg

Parishes and Churches of the Yekaterinburg Diocese: A Historical and Statistical Description. Yekaterinburg, 1902.

Yekaterinoslav

Brief Information on the Yekaterinoslav Diocese. Yekaterinoslav, 1875.

Kazan

Bogoslovsky, G. A Brief Historical Sketch of the Kazan Diocese. Kazan, 1893.

Platon (Lyubarsky), Bishop. Collection of Antiquities of the Kazan Diocese. Kazan, 1868 (up to 1782).

Pokrovsky, I. M. “Kazan and the Kazan Diocese” // PBE. Vol. 7. pp. 698–792.

Kamchatka

Gromov, P. Historical and Statistical Description of the Kamchatka Diocese // TKDA. 1861.

Kyiv

Antonovich, V. V. “An Essay on the State of the Orthodox Church in Southwestern Russia from the Mid-17th Century to the End of the 18th Century” // Monographs on the History of Western and Southwestern Russia. Kyiv, 1885.

Ternovsky, T. A. A Study on the Subordination of the Kiev Metropolis to the Moscow Patriarchate. Kyiv, 1872.

Titov, F. The Orthodox Russian Church in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the 17th–18th Centuries. Kyiv, 1905. Vol. 3: The Kyiv Metropolis-Diocese in the 17th–18th Centuries (1686–1797).

Eingorn, V. O. On the Relations of the Little Russian Clergy with the Moscow Government during the Reign of Alexei Mikhailovich // Readings. 1893. Vol. 2; 1894. Vol. 3–4; 1899. Vol. 1–2.

Kolomna

Rudnev, M. “On the History of the Kolomna Diocese” // Readings. 1903. Vol. 4.

Krutitskaya

Lev “Kavelin,” Hieromonk. A Church-Historical Study of the Ancient Region of the Vyatichi, Which From the Beginning of the 15th Century to the End of the 18th Century Was Part of the Krutitsky and Suzdal Dioceses // Readings. 1866. Vol. 2.

Solovyov, N. The Saray and Krutitsy Dioceses // Ibid. 1894. Vol. 3.

Lithuanian

Izvekov, N. A Historical Sketch of the State of the Orthodox Church in the Lithuanian Diocese during the Years 1839–1889. Moscow, 1899.

Minsk

Nicholas, Archimandrite. A Historical and Statistical Description of the Minsk Diocese. St. Petersburg, 1864.

Mogilev

The Mogilev Diocese: A Historical and Statistical Description. Mogilev, 1910. Vol. 1.

Moscow

Materials on Moscow and the Moscow Diocese for the 18th Century. Edited by N. Skvortsov. Moscow, 1911–1914. 2 vols.

Rozanov, N. History of the Moscow Diocesan Administration from the Time of the Establishment of the Holy Synod (1721–1821). Moscow, 1869–1870. 3 vols. in 5 books.

Nizhny Novgorod

Makarii (Mirolyubov), Archimandrite. History of the Nizhny Novgorod Hierarchy, containing accounts of the Nizhny Novgorod hierarchs from 1672 to 1850. St. Petersburg, 1857.

Orenburg

Chernavsky, N. History of the Orenburg Diocese. Orenburg, 1903. 2 vols. (Proceedings of the Orenburg Scientific Archival Commission. Vols. 7, 9).

Oryol

Historical and Statistical Description of the Parishes and Monasteries of the Oryol Diocese. Oryol, 1905. 2 vols.

Pyasetsky, G. History of the Orel Diocese. Orel, 1899.

Pereyaslav

Malitsky, N. V. History of the Pereyaslav Diocese (1744–1783). Vladimir, 1912. Vol. 1.

Pereyaslav

Parkhomenko, V. An Essay on the History of the Pereyaslav-Boryspil Diocese. Poltava, 1910.

Perm

Popov, E. The Great Perm and Perm Dioceses (1799–1879). Perm, 1879.

St. Petersburg

Arkhangelsky, M. S. – The St. Petersburg Diocese from the Founding of St. Petersburg to the Accession of Anna Ioannovna, 1703–1730 // Stranik. 1867. No. 1.

Arkhangelsky, M. S. – The St. Petersburg Diocese from the Accession of Anna Ioannovna // Ibid. No. 3; 1868. No. 2.

Arkhangelsky, M. History of the Orthodox Church within the Boundaries of the Present-Day St. Petersburg Diocese. St. Petersburg, 1871.

Historical and Statistical Data on the St. Petersburg Diocese. St. Petersburg, 1869–1885. 10 vols.

Podolsk

Glaschinsky, P. A. Historical and Statistical Description of the Podolsk Diocese // Podolsk Diocesan Gazette. 1864–1865.

Poltava

Granovsky, A. The Poltava Diocese in Its Past. Poltava, 1901. Vol. 1.

Polievkt, Hegumen. Information on the Poltava-Pereyaslav Diocese and Its Archpastors. Poltava, 1868.

See Pereyaslav.

Pskov

Smirgatsky. A Historical and Statistical Compilation of Information on the Pskov Diocese. Ostrov, 1895.

Rostov-Yaroslavl

The Hierarchy of the Rostov-Yaroslavl Diocese, in Order of Succession from 992 to the Present. Yaroslavl, 1864.

Ryazan

Vozdvizhensky, T. A Historical Survey of the Ryazan Hierarchy and Its Ecclesiastical Affairs. Moscow, 1820.

Dobrolyubov, I. A Historical and Statistical Description of the Churches and Parishes of the Ryazan Governorate. Ryazan, 1899.

Makarii (Mirolyubov), Archimandrite. Collection of Ecclesiastical-Historical and Statistical Information on the Ryazan Diocese // Readings. 1863. Vol. 2–4.

Sarayskaya, see Krutitskaya

Sevskaya

Residential data on churches in the Sevskaya tithe district: Materials for the History of Churches in the Oryol Diocese. 1628–1746. Moscow, 1904. Vol. 1. See also Oryol.

Smolensk

Historical and Statistical Description of the Smolensk Diocese. Smolensk, 1864.

Redkov, N. Historical and Statistical Description of the Churches and Parishes of the Smolensk Diocese. Smolensk, 1915. Vol. 1.

Taurida

Hermogenes (Dobronravov), Bishop. The Taurida Diocese. Pskov, 1887.

Tambov

Khitrov, G. Historical and Statistical Description of the Tambov Diocese. Tambov, 1861.

Kharkiv

Historical and Statistical Description of the Kharkiv Diocese. Moscow; Kharkiv, 1852–1859. 5 vols.

Kholm

Korzhenevsky, I. History of the Kholm-Warsaw Diocese from the Establishment of the Archiepiscopal See in Warsaw until 1876. Warsaw, 1881.

Modest (Strelbitsky), Bishop. The Kholm Orthodox Diocese. Warsaw, 1886.

Chernigov

Historical and Statistical Description of the Chernigov Diocese. Chernigov, 1870–1873. 7 vols. (Foreword by Archbishop Filaret (Gumilevsky).

Zavyalov, A. On Marriage and Divorce. Moscow, 1892.

Zagorovsky, M. V. Analysis and Description of Cases of Orthodox Ecclesiastical Administration // Proceedings of the Vladimir Scientific Archival Commission. 1902. Vol. 4.

Zagorovsky, P. On Divorce under Russian Law. Kharkiv, 1884.

Znamensky, P. V. “Peter the Great’s Legislation Concerning the Orthodox Clergy” // Legal Collection. 1863. Part 3.

Znamensky, P. V. The Parish Clergy in Russia Since the Time of Peter the Great’s Reforms // Ibid. 1872–1873; ibid. Kazan, 1873.

Ivanovsky, I. Review of Ecclesiastical and Civil Legislation Concerning the Ecclesiastical Department. St. Petersburg, 1883; 1900.

Excerpts… for… the year (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Ispolyatov, P. “Consistory” // PBE. Vol. 12. pp. 834–843.

Historical Information on Dioceses in Russia from the Establishment of Orthodox Christianity in Russia to the Present. Moscow, 1881.

Kalashnikov (see bibliography for Introduction B).

A Book on the Duties of Parish Priests. St. Petersburg, 1775; 1798.

Korolkov, K. On the Establishment and Closure of Dioceses of the Russian Church. Kiev, 1876.

Kuznetsov, N. D. On the Question of Church Property (see bibliography for § 10).

Lebedev, A. S. The Bishops of Belgorod and the Context of Their Pastoral Ministry: Based on Archival Documents. Kharkiv, 1902.

Lukanin, A. Chronological Index (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Materials for the History of the Orthodox Church (see bibliography for § 9).

Nechaev, P. N. Practical Guide (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Report… for… the year (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Pokrovsky, I. M. “The Diocesan Structure of the Russian Church during the Reign of Emperor Paul I (November 6, 1796 – March 11, 1801)” // Prav. Sob. 1914. Part 1 (Chapter 1 of the unfinished Volume 3 of *Russian Dioceses in the 16th–19th Centuries*).

Pokrovsky, I. M. Russian Dioceses in the 16th–19th Centuries: Their Establishment, Composition, and Boundaries. Kazan, 1897–1913. 2 vols.

Pokrovsky, I. M. The Resources and Staff of the Great Russian Bishopric Houses from the Time of Peter I to the Establishment of the Ecclesiastical Staff in 1764. Kazan, 1907.

Rozanov, N. (see the bibliography on the Moscow Diocese in this section).

Russian Dioceses and the Hierarchy of the All-Russian Church in the Early 19th Century // Church Gazette. 1901. No. 1.

Samuilov, V. Deanery Councils // PBE. pp. 705–711.

Samuilov, V. Deanery Conventions // Ibid. pp. 700–705.

Samuilov, V. Deaneries // Ibid. Vol. 2. pp. 683–700.

Serebrennikov, N. Laws on the Orthodox Clergy and Clerical Institutions. St. Petersburg, 1914.

Spobin, A. D. On Divorce in Russia. Moscow, 1881.

Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (see bibliography for § 6).

Chizhevsky, I. Organization (see bibliography for Introduction B).

Chizhevsky, I. Church Administration, or Rules and Regulations Concerning the Improvement of Churches and Church Property. Kharkiv, 1874.

Shpachinsky, N. Metropolitan Arseny of Mogilyan, Metropolitan of Kyiv (see bibliography for § 8).

Abbreviations in publication titles

AAE – Acts Collected in the Libraries and Archives of the Russian Empire by the Archaeographic Expedition of the Academy of Sciences. St. Petersburg, 1836. 4 vols.

AZR – Acts Relating to the History of Western Russia, Collected and Published by the Archaeographic Commission. St. Petersburg, 1846–1853. 5 vols.

AI – Historical Acts, Collected and Published by the Archaeographic Commission. St. Petersburg, 1841. 5 vols.

Arch. SWR – Archive of Southwestern Russia. Kiev, 1864. Vol. 2–3

AYUZR – Acts Relating to the History of Southern and Western Russia, Collected and Published by the Archaeographic Commission. Kiev, 1863–1892. Vol. 3, 10, 14

BV – The Theological Herald. Sergiev Posad, 1892–1918

BE – Great Encyclopedia. Edited by S. N. Yuzhakov and P. N. Milyukov. Leipzig; Vienna; St. Petersburg, 1900–1909. 22 vols.

VE – Vestnik Evropy. St. Petersburg, 1866–1918

Verkhovskoy – Verkhovskoy, P. V. The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium and the “Spiritual Regulations.” Rostov-on-Don, 1916. 2 vols.

Golubinsky – Golubinsky, E. E. History of the Russian Church. Moscow, 1880–1881. Vol. 1, Part 2; Moscow, 1900. Vol. 2, Part 1 (also in: Readings. 1900. Book 2); Vol. 2, Part 2 in: Readings. 1916. Book 4. 2nd ed. Moscow, 1901–1917. Vol. 1 (2 parts) – 2 (2 parts)

DAI—Supplements to the Historical Acts. St. Petersburg, 1846–1875. 12 vols.

Denisov – Denisov, L. I. Orthodox Monasteries of the Russian Empire. Moscow, 1908

Dobroklonsky – Dobroklonsky, A. P. A Guide to the History of the Russian Church. Ryazan, 1890–1893. Vol. 3–4 (Vol. 3 also in: Spiritual Readings, 1889)

Spiritually Beneficial Readings – Spiritually Beneficial Readings. Moscow, 1860–1917

ZhMNP – Journal of the Ministry of Public Education. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1834–1917

Ist. v. – Historical Herald. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1880–1917

Excerpts… for… Year – Excerpts from the Most Humble Report of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1836–1863, 1867–1886

IORYAS – Proceedings of the Department of Russian Language and Literature of the Academy of Sciences. St. Petersburg; Petrograd; Leningrad, 1896–1927

OLDP Publications – Publications of the Society of Lovers of Ancient Literature. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1877–1917

IRI – History of the Russian Hierarchy. St. Petersburg, 1807–1815. 6 vols. in 7 books.

Hist. Notes – Historical Notes. Moscow, 1937 (ongoing publication)

Hist. – Stat. St. Petersburg – Historical and Statistical Data on the St. Petersburg Diocese. St. Petersburg, 1873–1875. 8 vols.

Kiev Articles – Kiev Antiquities. Kyiv, 1882–1906

Kalashnikov – Kalashnikov, S. V. Alphabetical Index of Current and Guiding Canonical Decrees, Edicts, Rulings, and Orders of the Most Holy Governing Synod (1721–1901, inclusive) and Civil Laws Pertaining to the Ecclesiastical Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1902

LZAK – Chronicle of the Proceedings of the Archaeographic Commission. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1862–1917

Makarii – Makarii (Bulgakov), Metropolitan. History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1857–1883. 12 vols.

Nikanor – Nikanor (Brovkovich), Archbishop. Biographical Materials. Odessa, 1901. Vol. 1

OAMYU – Description of Documents and Files Held in the Moscow Archive of the Ministry of Justice. St. Petersburg, 1869–1872; Moscow, 1876–1896. 10 vols.

Review… of Alexander III – Review of the Activities of the Department of the Orthodox Faith during the Reign of Emperor Alexander III. St. Petersburg, 1901

ODDS – Inventory of Documents and Files Held in the Archive of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1868–1915. 22 vols.

Opinions – Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on the Question of Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1906. 3 vols. and a supplementary volume

Report… for… Year – Most Humble Report of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod for the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1887–1916 (through 1914)

PBE – Orthodox Theological Encyclopedia. Edited by A. P. Lopukhin and N. N. Glubokovsky. St. Petersburg, 1900–1911. 12 vols. (A–Kon)

PDP – Monuments of Ancient Literature. St. Petersburg, 1878

Platonov – Platonov, S. F. Lectures on Russian History. 9th ed. Petrograd, 1915; 10th ed. Petrograd, 1917

Prav. ob. – Orthodox Review. Moscow, 1860–1891

Orth. Companion – Orthodox Companion. Kazan, 1855–1917

Additions – Additions to the Works of the Holy Fathers. Moscow, 1843–1891

PSZ – Complete Collection of Laws of the Russian Empire. First Collection (1640–December 12, 1825). St. Petersburg, 1826–1830. 45 vols.

2 PSZ – Ibid. Second Collection (December 12, 1825–March 1, 1881). St. Petersburg, 1830–1884. 55 vols.

3 PSZ – Ibid. Third Collection (March 1, 1881–1913). St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1885–1916. 33 vols.

PSPiR – Complete Collection of Decrees and Orders of the Department of the Orthodox Faith. St. Petersburg, 1869–1916. 10 vols.

PSPiR, E. II – Complete Collection of Decrees and Orders of the Department of the Orthodox Faith. The Reign of Catherine II. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1910–1915. 3 vols.

PSPiR, E. P. – Ibid. Reign of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna. St. Petersburg, 1899–1912. 4 vols.

PSPiR, N. I – Ibid. The Reign of Emperor Nicholas I. Petrograd, 1915. Vol. 1

PSPiR, Vol. I – Ibid. The Reign of Emperor Paul I. St. Petersburg, 1915

Complete Collection of Russian Chronicles. Published by the Archaeographic Commission. St. Petersburg; Petrograd; Moscow, 1846 (ongoing publication)

Rus. Arkh. – Russian Archive. Moscow, 1863–1917

RBS – Russian Biographical Dictionary. St. Petersburg; Moscow, 1896–1913. 25 vols. (unfinished; letters B, E, M, part of T, and U are missing)

Rus. V. – Russian Herald. 1) Moscow, 1808–1824; 2) St. Petersburg, 1841–1844; 3) Moscow, 1856–1906

Rus. M. – Russkaya Mysl. Moscow, 1880–1918 (in the 1920s and 1930s in Sofia, Prague, Paris, and Belgrade)

Rus. St. – Russkaya Starina. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1870–1918

Savva – Savva (Tikhomirov), Archbishop. Chronicle of My Life. Sergiev Posad, 1897–1911. 9 vols.

Collection – Collection of the Imperial Russian Historical Society. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1867–1916

Code of Laws – Code of Laws of the Russian Empire. St. Petersburg, 1832. 15 vols.; new eds.: 1842, 1857, 1876 (16 vols.), 1899 (16 vols.)

SGGD – Collection of State Decrees and Treaties. St. Petersburg, 1828. Vol. 4

Solovyov – Solovyov, S. M. History of Russia from the Earliest Times. Moscow, 1851–1879. 29 vols.; same work: published by “Public Benefit.” 6 books.

Stranik – Stranik. St. Petersburg, 1860–1916

TKDA – Proceedings of the Kyiv Theological Academy. Kyiv, 1860–1917

Kyiv University – University News. Kyiv, 1861–1919

Filaret. Review – Filaret (Gumilevsky), Archbishop. Review of Russian Spiritual Literature. St. Petersburg, 1857; 2nd ed. 1859; 3rd ed. 1884. 2 vols.

Filaret. Collection of Opinions – Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. Collection of Opinions and Reviews on Educational and Church-State Issues. Moscow, 1885–1888. 5 vols. and a supplementary volume

Filaret. Collection of Opinions… in the East – Filaret (Drozdov), Metropolitan. A Collection of Opinions and Reviews on Matters Concerning the Orthodox Church in the East. St. Petersburg, 1886

Florovsky—Florovsky, G. The Paths of Russian Theology. Paris, 1937; 2nd ed. Paris, 1981

Kharlamovich – Kharlamovich, K. V. The Little Russian Influence on Great Russian Church Life. Kazan, 1914. Vol. 1

Christian Readings – Christian Readings. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1821–1918

Church Gazette – Church Gazette. St. Petersburg; Petrograd, 1888–1917

Readings – Readings at the Society for Russian History and Antiquities at Moscow University. Moscow, 1845–1848, 1858–1918

CHOLDP – Readings at the Moscow Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment. Moscow, 1863, 1867–1916

ES – Encyclopedic Dictionary, published by F. A. Brockhaus and I. A. Efron. St. Petersburg, 1890–1905; St. Petersburg, 1905–1907. Suppl. vols. 1–2. New Encyclopedic Dictionary, published by F. A. Brockhaus and I. A. Efron (in 48 vols.). St. Petersburg, 1911–1916. 29 vols. (up to the entry “Otto”)

Ammann – Ammann, A. M. An Outline of East Slavic Church History. Vienna, 1950

BZ – Byzantinische Zeitschrift.

DACL – Dictionnaire d’archéologie chrétienne et de liturgie. Paris, 1907–1953

DHGE – Dictionary of Ecclesiastical History and Geography. Paris, 1912–1953

DTC – Dictionnaire de théologie catholique. Paris, 1905–1950

Forschungen – Forschungen zur osteuropaischen Geschichte. B., 1954 ff.

HZ – Helte Zeitschrifte

Herman – Herman A. On the Sources of Russian Ecclesiastical Law. A Historical-Canonical Commentary. Rome, 1936 (Sacred Congregation for the Eastern Church. Eastern Canonical Sources. Series 2, 7)

IKZ – Internationale Kirchliche Zeitschrift. Bern, 1911 onward.

Irenikon – Irenikon. Chevetogne.

JGO – Yearbooks for the History of Eastern Europe

Kyrios – Kyrios. Quarterly Journal for the History of the Church and Intellectual Life in Eastern Europe. Königsberg in Prussia, 1936–1943

Milasch – Milasch, N. Canon Law of the Eastern Church. 2nd ed. Mostar, 1905 (1st ed.: Zara, 1897)

OCA – Orientalia Christiana Analecta. Rome, 1923 ff.

OCP – Orientalia Christiana Periodica. Rome, 1935 ff.

OS – Studies in the Eastern Churches. Würzburg, 1952 ff.

PRE – Realencyklopädie für protestantische Theologie und Kirche. 3rd ed. Leipzig, 1896–1913. 24 vols.

Textus selecti – Herman A., Wuyts A. Textus selecti iuris ecclesiastici russorum. Rome, 1944 (Sacred Congregation for the Eastern Church. Eastern Codification. Sources. Series 2, 7)

ZOG – Journal of Eastern European History

ZSP – Journal of Slavic Philology

* * *

[1] On the periodization of the history of the Russian Church, see Golubinsky, *History*, vol. 1, part 1, “Introduction”; Dobroklonsky, *Guide*, vol. 3, “Introduction”; Smolitsch, in *Kyrios*, vol. 5 (1940–1941).

[2] On the administrative structure during the patriarchate era, see Table 2.

[4] For a general overview of the history of Russia in the 18th–20th centuries, see the works by Platonov, Shmurlo, Kornilov, Dovnar-Zapolsky, Pushkarev, and Kovalevsky listed in the bibliography (General Literature B).

[5] For the year 1881: Russian Calendar for 1912, ed. A. Suvorin. St. Petersburg, 1912. p. 83, cf. pp. 91–108. Under Alexander III, Merv in Turkestan was occupied; under Nicholas II, following the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905, Russia lost half of Sakhalin Island. In 1914, Russia’s territory totaled 19,948,815 square versts (Asian Russia. Vol. 1. p. 39; 1 square verst = 1.13802 square kilometers).

[6] Under Peter I, Russia acquired Livonia, Estonia, part of Karelia, and southern Finland. Under Catherine II, following the First Partition of Poland in 1772, the northern and eastern regions of Belarus were added; following the Second Partition of Poland in 1793, the remainder of Belarus and the southwestern Russian lands (Western Ukraine); finally, in 1795—Courland and part of Lithuania. In 1809, Alexander I occupied all of Finland, and in 1815, Russia received part of Poland (the Duchy of Warsaw) under the name “Kingdom of Poland.” In 1815, Russia returned Galicia to Austria. This marked the end of Russia’s territorial expansion to the west (Military-Statistical Compendium. Vol. 4. pp. 20–23).

[7] The desire to expand southward was evident in Peter I’s attempts to conquer the fortress of Azov (1695–1698) and later in the campaign of 1711. Under Catherine II, following two wars with Turkey, Russia acquired the entire steppe region all the way to the Black Sea coast, the Crimean Peninsula, and part of the territory in the North Caucasus. Under Alexander I, Russia acquired Bessarabia in 1812 (Military-Statistical Compendium. Ibid.; Nolde. 2. pp. 5–52; 53–258, 259–300).

[8] The advance to the east and southeast began with Peter I’s campaign against Persia and into the North Caucasus. Under Catherine II, Georgia came under de facto Russian rule (1783), and under Paul I, following the abolition of tsarist authority in Georgia (1801), it came under definitive Russian rule. The Caucasus was finally conquered under Alexander II (1864). In Siberia, under a treaty with China in 1858, the state border was established along the Amur River; thanks to the acquisition of the Ussuri Region, the border was pushed back toward the Sea of Okhotsk. In 1867, Russia sold the territory of Alaska to the United States of America. It exchanged half of Sakhalin with Japan for the Kuril Islands (1875). In Central Asia, Russia conquered Turkestan (1865) and Kokand (1876) and made Khiva (1873) and Bukhara (1873) vassal states; in 1885–1887, first Merv and then the Pamir region were annexed. Under the Treaty of Portsmouth, Russia lost the southern part of Sakhalin (Military-Statistical Compendium. Ibid.; Nolde. 2. pp. 331–364, 364–388; Shmurlo. pp. 394, 427 ff., 502 ff., 540).

[9] Military-Statistical Compendium. Vol. 4. pp. 50, 94–97, 100–104, 912; Russia (1900). p. 75; Great Soviet Encyclopedia. Vol. 16. p. 452; Russian Calendar for 1912. p. 123; Mendeleev (1922). pp. 41, 48 ff.; Janson (1878).

[10] Mendeleev. Op. cit. pp. 20, 48.

[11] Russia (1900). p. 76; in the Great Soviet Encyclopedia, vol. 16, p. 492, the figure given is 128,248,147, with a correction to 128,991,693 people; Russian Calendar for 1903. p. 123: 128,967,694 people.

[12] Russian Calendar for 1912. pp. 84, 91–108; Pushkarev. Russia in the 19th Century (1956). p. 432 (according to the Statistical Yearbook. St. Petersburg, 1914. p. 99).

[13] Military Statistical Compendium. Vol. 4. p. 119.

[14] For 1858: ibid. pp. 10–104, cf. pp. 94–97; for 1870: Russia (1900). p. 86; for 1897: Great Encyclopedia. Vol. 16. pp. 456 ff. and appendix; for 1910: Russian Calendar for 1912. pp. 86 ff.; Milyukov. Essays. 2. 1 (1931). pp. 154 ff. On “authentic data” in the reports of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, see the opinion of E. E. Golubinsky: “On Reform in the Life of the Russian Church,” in: Readings. 1913. 3. p. 93.

[15] Report of the Chief Prosecutor… for 1911–1912 (1913). p. 148.

[16] Following the publication of the manifesto of April 17, 1905, “On Strengthening the Foundations of Religious Tolerance,” the Old Believers were granted equal rights with the members of the Russian Orthodox Church and therefore, in 1912, had no need to “pretend to be Orthodox.” The number of sectarians did not exceed 1 million people. – Ed.

[17] The Code of 1649, introduction in: PSZ. 1. No. 1 or other editions.

[18] See: Smolitsch, pp. 238–286 (bibliography).

[19] See on this: Klyuchevsky. A Course in Russian History. Vol. 3, Chapters 55–56; Waldenberg; Kapterev; Smolitsch. Chapter 5.

[20] More on this below in Volume 2, as well as: Smolitsch, Ch. 11, and Florovsky, Paths, pp. 63–67; Kartashov, A., “The Meaning of Old Belief,” in: Collection in Honor of P. B. Struve. Prague, 1925.

[21] On the question of Western influences, see: Klyuchevsky. A Course in Russian History. Ch. 53; Milyukov. Essays.

[22] On the subject of social relations prior to the Petrine reforms, one may refer to an interesting article by I. I. Dityatin, “When and Why Did Discord Arise in Russia Between the Ruling Classes and the People,” in: Russkiy Mir, 1881, No. 11; 1882, No. 3.

[23] See: Platonov. Lectures. p. 459 ff.; Klyuchevsky. Course. Ch. 3.

[24] Shmurlo, p. 291; cf. p. 296; Platonov, Lectures, pp. 506–512.

[25] Platonov. Lectures. p. 634; Shmurlo. p. 360; Vladimirsky-Budanov. Review. p. 222 ff.; Semevsky, V. Peasants During the Reign of Catherine II, Vol. 1. St. Petersburg, 1885; idem. The Peasant Question; Engelmann, J.; Klyuchevsky, in: Russkaya Mysl, 1885, Nos. 8–10.

[26] PSZ. Vol. 5, No. 2789; Vol. 10, No. 8836; Vol. 15, No. 11444; Vol. 22, No. 16187; Romanovich-Slavatinsky, V. E., The Nobility in Russia; Korf, S. A., *The Nobility and Its Estates-Based Administration Over a Century, 1762–1855*. St. Petersburg, 1906; Platonov, *Lectures*, pp. 504 ff., 632 ff.; Shmurlo, pp. 360 ff.; Pushkarev, Russia in the 19th Century. pp. 50 ff. In 1859, the number of landowner peasants amounted to 10,960,000 registered souls; according to the 1835 census, there were 8.5 million male state peasants (ibid., pp. 62, 73). Regarding the emancipation of the peasants on February 19, 1861, see: 2 PSZ, 36, No. 35657.

[27] This issue is discussed in detail in Volume 2.

[28] Even before the official adoption of the title of “tsar” in 1547, the Grand Princes of Moscow were often referred to as “tsars”: AI. 1. No. 112 (1501), 294 (1534); PSRL. 6. pp. 225–230; 8. pp. 207–213; 12. p. 203 (1480, “Epistle to the Ugra” by Vassian Ryl); 25. pp. 259 (1437), 312 (1477).

[29] Platonov. Lectures. pp. 156, 189, 190; cf.: Klyuchevsky. Course. Vol. 2. Chapters 25–26; Lyubavsky. Ancient Russian History until the End of the 16th Century. 3rd ed. Moscow, 1918. pp. 210–220, 221–233; Klyuchevsky. The Boyar Duma. Ch. 12 (in the 1909 ed. – pp. 244 ff.).

[30] For details on this, see: Waldenberg; cf.: Smolitsch, Ch. 5 (bibliography), as well as: Milasch, pp. 600–710.

[31] On the *Kormchaya Kniga*, see: Pavlov, A. *The Original Slavic-Russian Nomokanon*. Kazan, 1869. p. 76; V. Beneshevich. The Old Slavonic Kormchaya of XIV Titles. St. Petersburg, 1905. p. 795; Herman. *De fontibus*. p. 23 ff. On Byzantine state legislation regarding the Church, see: Milasch. pp. 52, 125, 192 ff., 690 ff.; Ostrogorsky, G. *History of the Byzantine Empire*. Munich, 1940. pp. 17, 47, etc.; Pfandmüller, G. *The Ecclesiastical Legislation of Justinian*. 1902; Alivisatos, H. *The Ecclesiastical Legislation of Emperor Justinian*. Berlin, 1913.

[32] Ostrogorsky, G. “The Relationship Between Church and State in Byzantium,” in: *Seminarium Kondakovianum*. 4 (1931). pp. 121–134.

[33] Ostrogorsky, op. cit., p. 121; V. Sokolsky (“On the Nature and Significance of the Epanagoga,” in: Byzantine Chronicle. 1 (1894). pp. 17–54) asserts that the Epanagoga was significant as a monument of public law (p. 41). According to F. Dolger (Dolger F. Byzanz. Munich, 1952. p. 97), the Epanagoge was never officially ratified by the emperors.

[34] A. V. Kartashov (Kartasev A. The Emergence of Imperial Synodal Authority under Constantine the Great, Its Theological Justification, and Its Ecclesiastical Reception, in: Church and Cosmos. Orthodox and Evangelical Christianity. Study Booklet No. 2. Witten; Ruhr, 1950. p. 145) remarks on this subject: “This philosophy of duality, incorporated into Matthew Blastares’ Syntagma (14th century), which was widespread throughout the East, remained universally recognized and, with varying degrees of success, also took root in the Slavic daughter Churches of both the Middle Ages and modern times.” The translation of the Epanagoga into Church Slavonic was completed in Moscow only during the patriarchate of Nikon, but the Epanagoga was also included in Vlastar’s Syntagma (1335) and, thanks to this, was known in Slavonic translation in Moscow even before the 17th century: Milasch, pp. 188 ff., 193 ff.

[35] Gotz, L. K., *State and Church in Altru?land: The Kievan Period, 988–1240*. Berlin, 1908; Philipp W. Approaches to Historical and Political Thought in Kievan Rus’. Breslau, 1940; Shakhmatoff, M. V. Essays on the History of Old Russian Political Ideas. Prague, 1927. Vol. 1.

[36] Makarii. 8. p. 346; Th. Ziegler. The Union of the Council of Florence in the Russian Church. Würzburg, 1938 (bibliography); Shpakov, A. The Church and the State in Their Mutual Relations in the Muscovite State from the Union of Florence to the Establishment of the Patriarchate. Vol. 1: The Reign of Vasily the Blind. Kyiv, 1904. p. 84 ff.; Ammann. Abri?. p. 138 ff.

[37] On the significance for Muscovy of the Turkish conquest of Constantinople, see: Ostrogorsky. History. p. 411; Smolitsch. p. 123.

[40] On the question of the relations of the Grand Princes of Moscow to the Tatar Golden Horde: Spuler, B. *Die Goldene Horde. Die Mongolen in Ru?land*. Leipzig, 1943. On the influence of the Tatar yoke on the Church, see: Priselkov, M. *Khan’s Decrees to the Russian Metropolitans*. Petrograd, 1916.

[41] See note 27. Characteristic of the political atmosphere under Ivan III was the solemn coronation in 1498 of Prince Dmitry, Ivan III’s grandson, as tsar rather than grand prince (SGGD. 2. No. 25).

[42] See, for example, the Chronograph of 1512, in: PSRL. 22. 1. p. 208; or Metropolitan Makarii’s letter to Ivan IV, in: AI. 1. No. 160; cf. DAI. 1, Nos. 25 and 40; Smolitsch, pp. 129–135. On the origin of the title “autocrat-sovereign,” see: Ostrogorsky, G. “Autocrat and Sovereign: A Contribution to the History of Titles of Authority in Byzantium and Among the Southern Slavs.” Appendix: The Titles of the Autocrat in Rus’, in: Glas Srpske Krasjevske Akademije. Vol. 2, No. 84. Belgrade, 1935. pp. 95–187.

[43] We do not delve here into a detailed description of Monk Philotheos’s religious and missionary teaching on “Moscow—the Third Rome”; see on this: Malinin, V. The Elder Philotheos of the Eleazarov Monastery. 1901; Schaeder, H. (1929) (bibliography). 2nd ed., 1957; Smolitsch, p. 130 ff.; Medlin, W. K. (1952).

[44] See: Waldenberg; Sokolsky, V. (1902); Savva, V. (1901); Solovyov, A. V. (1927); Beck (1954); Stupperich (1949); Dyakonov (1889); Smolitsch, p. 125 ff.

[45] This point is particularly emphasized in the epistles on the heresy of the Judaizers; see: Smolitsch, p. 126, note 3.

[46] See the rite of the installation of a metropolitan from the mid-15th century (AAE, vol. 1, no. 375, and RIB, vol. 7, no. 52, where it is dated 1423) or the “Rite of Enthronement on the Patriarchal Throne” of Patriarch Adrian dated August 22, 1690 (PSZ, 3, No. 1381). This is particularly evident in the rite of enthronement of Patriarch Filaret dated June 22, 1619 (“Rite of Nomination and Enthronement by the Sovereign’s Will”: SGGD. 3, No. 45, pp. 187, 189).

[47] See, for example, Metropolitan Makarii’s letter to Tsar Ivan IV dated July 13–20, 1552, in: AI. 1. No. 160. p. 292; cf. the compilation of historical materials in: Philipp W., *Ivan Peresvetov and His Writings on the Renewal of the Moscow Empire*. Königsberg i. Pr., 1935. Especially pp. 52–61.

[48] Latkin. Op. cit., p. 249; cf.: Klyuchevsky. Course. 4 (1910), p. 227; Vladimirsky-Budanov. Op. cit., p. 143 ff.

[49] See “tsar-related issues” in the editions of the Stoglav (Smolitsch, p. 18); and also: Waldenberg; Kapterev, N. Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Vol. 1. 2nd ed. (1912). 2. pp. 82, 62; ibid. The Tsar and the Moscow Ecclesiastical Councils of the 16th and 17th Centuries, in: BV. 1906. 3.

[50] Kapterev. Patriarch Nikon; Smolitsch. p. 365 ff.

[51] Smolitsch. p. 376. “Petition on the Faith,” in: Materials for the History of the Russian Schism. Vol. 2, Nos. 14, 30, 31, 43, 45.

[52] Patriarch Nikon’s Opinion on the Code, in: Proceedings of the Department of Russian and Slavic Archaeology. 2 (1861), cf.: Makarii. 12. Pp. 227 ff. See Kapterev’s work cited above, especially vol. 2, and also: Zyzykin, M. Patriarch Nikon; a wealth of material characterizing Nikon and his writings is contained in: Palmer, W., *The Patriarch and the Tsar*, 7 vols. London, 1871–1876. For further literature, see: Smolitsch, p. 362 ff.

[53] Many scholars acknowledge the role of boyar intrigues in the conflict between the tsar and the patriarch; see especially: Zyzykin, vol. 3, p. 25 ff.; Florovsky, p. 66

[54] Patriarchs Paisius of Alexandria and Macarius of Antioch participated in the Council’s sessions.

[55] For the patriarchal responses (the so-called “scrolls”), see: SGGD, vol. 4, no. 27 (in Greek and Russian); Gibbenet, vol. 2, pp. 669–697 (the translation is inaccurate); cf.: Makarios, vol. 12, pp. 472 ff.; Zyzykin. 3. pp. 86 ff.

[56] SGGD. 4. No. 27. pp. 84–117; cf.: Makarii. 12. pp. 492 ff.; Waldenberg. pp. 392 ff.

[57] SGGD. 4. No. 71 (1652) and AAE. 3. No. 164; cf.: Smolitsch. pp. 244, 287.

[58] PSZ. 1. No. 201; Nikon had already received a similar charter of appointment in 1651, when he was appointed Metropolitan of Novgorod (AAE. 4. No. 50).

[59] On various instances of Nikon being referred to as the “Great Sovereign,” see: Makarii. 12. p. 230 ff. A striking example of the “harmony” between the two authorities can be found, for instance, in Tsar Mikhail’s (1621) words that he and his father, the Great Sovereign, were alike, and that His Holiness Patriarch Filaret and Their Imperial Majesties were inseparable (Sergeevich. Russian Legal Antiquities. 2. St. Petersburg, 1900. p. 560). However, it should be borne in mind that Patriarch Filaret was Tsar Michael’s father in the most literal sense of the word.

[60] AAE. 4. No. 204; PSZ. 1. No. 412; Makarii. 12. pp. 754–757; Waldenberg. p. 396, cf.: Smolitsch. p. 245.

[61] Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich’s Code of 1649 cannot be regarded as a code of laws, even though it constitutes a compilation of previously enacted laws. The Code only partially reflects the totality of legal norms pertaining to state administration and the life of the people. It lacks very important sections of public and private law. For example, it lacks fundamental laws and laws governing the highest bodies of state administration, as well as local government. In the area of private law, family and inheritance law are absent. The basis for the latter in Muscovite Russia was ecclesiastical (canonical) provisions. The absence of a general code of laws was not compensated for by supplementary laws issued between 1649 and 1700. No new code or collection of laws appeared, despite some attempts, even in the 18th century. For the code, see: PSZ. 1. No. 1, as well as some later editions, especially Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich’s Sobornoe Ulozheniye of 1649, in: Monuments of Russian Law, ed. K. A. Sofronenko. Vol. 6. Moscow, 1957 (a good edition with references to extensive literature on the Code as a whole and on its individual sections, as well as commentaries). On the 18th century, see: Latkin, V. N., Legislative Commissions in the 18th Century, Vol. 1. St. Petersburg, 1887.

[62] Collection 1 of the PSZ consists of 45 volumes. Volumes 1–40 contain imperial and senate decrees, decrees of the Holy Synod, various statutes, instructions, and other legislative acts. Volume 41 contains a chronological index, and volume 42 (in two parts) contains an alphabetical index. Volume 43 (2 parts) and volume 44 (also in 2 half-volumes) contain the “Book of Grants”—crucial material on subsidies granted by the state to the Church. Volume 45 contains the “Book of Tariffs”—material primarily on the history of the state’s economic development. The Second Collection of Statutes consists of 55 volumes, including indexes. The Third Collection of Statutes comprises 33 volumes (the last, 33rd volume, covering 1913, was published in 1916 and, to the best of our knowledge, is the final volume of the entire Collection of Statutes); here, chronological indexes are appended to each volume. See: Vernadsky, G. V. An Outline of the History of Law in the Russian State in the 18th–19th Centuries (the Imperial Period). Prague, 1924. We cite this collection by volume and document numbers.

[63] From 1875 to 1887, *Tserkovny Vestnik* was a journal published by the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, in which the Holy Synod published its decrees, circulars, and other orders. Starting in 1888, the Holy Synod acquired its own journal, published twice a month, titled *Church Gazette*; it was divided into two sections: the first contained official documents, while the second, titled “Supplements,” published various materials: sermons by bishops and priests, obituaries, chronicles, and articles on pastoral and ecclesiastical-historical topics, sometimes scholarly but more often of a popular nature. This section of the journal is also very important to us. “Diocesan Gazette” was published in all dioceses.

[64] Vernadsky. Op. cit., p. 160 ff.

[65] On the Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories, see §§ 6 and 11.

[66] See the bibliography for individual paragraphs; key works: Barsov, Bulgakov, Chizhevsky, Ivanovsky, Kalashnikov, Malinovsky, Nechaev, Provolovich.

[69] St. Petersburg–Petrograd, 1910–1915.

[72] Materials on the History of the Russian Church During the Reign of Emperor Nicholas I, in: Collection. 113. 1 and 2.

[74] Thirty volumes of the “Description” were published. The following should be added to those listed: vol. 9 (1729). St. Petersburg, 1913; 17 (1737). St. Petersburg, n.d.; 18 (1738). St. Petersburg, 1915; 21 (1741). St. Petersburg, 1913; 22 (1742). St. Petersburg, 1914; 23 (1743). St. Petersburg, 1911; 28 (1748). St. Petersburg, 1916. – Ed.

[75] Catalog of Manuscripts from the Archive of the Holy Synod, “Edited by A. I. Nikolsky and A. I. Sobolevsky. Vol. 1, 2. Parts 1 and 2. St. Petersburg, 1904, 1906, 1910; Proceedings of the Commission on Theological Schools, 1808–1839. St. Petersburg, 1910; Catalog of the Archive of the Alexander Nevsky Lavra during the Reign of Emperor Peter the Great. St. Petersburg, 1903–1911. 2 vols.

[76] Reports were often compiled covering two years at a time: 1888–1889, 1890–1891, 1892–1893, 1894–1895, 1896–1897, 1903–1904, 1905–1907, 1908–1909, 1911–1912. For the period 1840–1891, there is a very useful book by I. Preobrazhensky, *The Russian Orthodox Church According to Statistical Data, 1840–1891*, St. Petersburg, 1897, which includes statistical data from reports on various branches of church administration, providing a very clear picture; see also: Herman A. De fontibus (1936).

[77] See the bibliography in the list of references under the heading “Filaret Drozdov,” which lists the most important collections.

[78] Many letters were first published in the following journals: Prav. ob., Prav. sob., BV, Russ. st., Russ. arkh., TKDA, Khrist. cht., Chteniya, and others; many official documents are also found there. Notes by foreigners who visited Russia during the reign of Peter I or spent a long time there, containing remarks on Peter’s church reform or evaluations of it, are discussed in the introduction to P. V. Verkhovsky’s book *The Establishment of the Spiritual Collegium and the Spiritual Regulations*. 1 (1906). pp. III–XVI; see vol. 2 of this work, which discusses the historiography of the Russian Church.

[79] Savva. Chronicle (see bibliography).

[81] Porphyry Uspensky (see bibliography).

[82] Pobedonostsev (see bibliography).

[83] For “Otzyvy” and “Zhurnaly,” see the bibliography. Summaries organized by topic were compiled from the four volumes of “Otzyvy” and published under the title “Summaries of the Opinions of Their Eminences on the Question of Church Reform.” St. Petersburg, 1906.

[84] This literature will be discussed specifically in Volume 2, in the section devoted to the reform plans of 1905–1906.

[85] From the early 1860s until 1900, 17 ecclesiastical-archaeological committees were established; between 1900 and 1914, another 40 were added (Bibliographic Chronicle. Vol. 1. St. Petersburg, 1914. p. 133; Report… for 1911–1912. p. 220 ff.).

[86] The “Diocesan Records” consist mainly of historical material from consistorial archives or private collections, concerning, first and foremost, the history of the respective diocese. See: PBE. Vol. 5. Cols. 451–454.

[87] Important publications can be found in the *Izvestiya* of the archival commissions of Novgorod, Vladimir, Vyatka, Ryazan, and Tver. The Nestor the Chronicler Society at Kyiv University published material on the history of Ukrainian dioceses in its serial publication *Readings at the Nestor the Chronicler Society*. The Society for History, Archaeology, and Ethnography at Kazan University produced highly valuable collections of documentary sources and a series of monographs on the ecclesiastical history of the Volga region.

[88] All theological academies had their own journals: the St. Petersburg Theological Academy—*Christian Readings* (1821–1917); the Kyiv Theological Academy—*Proceedings of the Kyiv Theological Academy* (1860–1917); the Moscow Theological Academy—*Additions to the Works of the Holy Fathers* (1843–1891) and *Theological Herald* (1892–1917; in 1918, only issue 1 was published); Kazan – *The Orthodox Interlocutor* (1855–1917; in 1918, only issue 1 was published). All of these journals published scholarly articles, often of considerable length. Specifically, *Christian Readings* primarily featured studies in church history, *Theological Herald* contained theological treatises, and *Orthodox Companion* included articles on the history of missionary activity among non-Orthodox peoples in the Volga region. The Kyiv “Proceedings” contain many monographs on the bishops of Ukrainian dioceses, as well as on the history of the Kyiv Theological Academy. The Moscow journal *Orthodox Review* (1860–1891), a privately published periodical by Archpriest P. A. Preobrazhensky, focused particularly on issues related to the activities and lives of parish clergy; much space was devoted here to the history of the Eastern Church as a whole, primarily in the Orthodox Slavic countries; the sections “Chronicle” and “Church News” contain many important facts. The Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment, founded by the White clergy in Moscow, had its own journal—*Readings in the Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment* (Moscow, 1863–1916). Alongside a wide variety of writings—not always of a scholarly nature—it contains extensive material on the history of preaching, as well as many collections of letters. The Kharkiv Theological Seminary published the journal *Faith and Reason* (1889–1917), which primarily discussed issues of a theological, philosophical, and apologetic nature. The *Missionary Collection* (Ryazan, 1890 and later) and the *Missionary Review* (St. Petersburg–Petrograd, 1896–1916) were devoted to the history of sectarianism. Other numerous journals of a religious and ethical nature will be discussed below, in Volume 2, when the history of pastoral activity is addressed. For more on these journals, see: PBE. 5. Cols. 605–610; Lisovsky, N. Bibliography of Russian Periodicals, 1703–1900. Petrograd, 1915; Glubokovsky, N. N. Russian Theological Scholarship in Its Historical Development and Current State. Warsaw, 1928.

[89] On the work of Platon Levshin, see: Solovyov, S. M., “Writers of 18th-Century Russian History,” in: Works (n.d.) and in: Archive of Historical and Legal Information, ed. Kalachev, vol. 2, no. 1 (1855); Golubev, S. T., “The Beginning of a Systematic Study of Russian Church History,” in: Kiev University Bulletin, 1885, No. 4; Kartashov, in: Christian Readings, 1903, No. 6.

[90] On Evgeny Bolkhovitinov, see: Abramovich, D. I., “In Memory of Metropolitan Evgeny Bolkhovitinov,” in: Historical Archive, 1 (St. Petersburg, 1919). pp. 190–223 (bibliography); History of the Russian Hierarchy. Vol. 1 (Moscow, 1807), 2 (1810), 3 (1812), 4 (1814), 5–6 (1815).

[91] On Innokenty Smirnov, see: Lebedev, A. P. “Two Pioneers of Ecclesiastical History in Our Country,” in: BV. 1907. No. 5. pp. 122–152; Kartashov, op. cit. Metropolitan Evgeny Bolkhovitinov, who himself made quite a few errors in his own writings (At the Trinity in the Academy. Moscow, 1914. p. 320), sharply criticized Innokenty’s work *Letters*, in: *Russian Arch.*, 1889, No. 7, p. 148; conversely, Filaret Drozdov spoke very positively of Innokenty’s work (*Collected Opinions*, Vol. 1, p. 352).

[92] History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1838. 2nd ed. – 1840, 1845; English translation: Mouravieff. History of the Russian Church. London, 1852; German translation: Murawiew. Geschichte der russischen Kirche. Karlsruhe, 1857.

[93] On Filaret Gumilevsky, see: Kartashov. Op. cit.; Glubokovsky. p. 44 ff. Filaret. History of the Russian Church, Fifth Period. Moscow, 1848. 5th ed. – 1884, 6th ed. – 1894; Filaret. Survey of Russian Ecclesiastical Literature (2 vols., 1859; 3rd ed., 1884) also provides a great deal of bibliographic material covering the years 1700–1863, although it is not without errors and, unfortunately, incomplete. See also: RBS, p. 80 ff. Filaret’s other works will be discussed in Volume 2, when the topic of Russian theological scholarship is addressed.

[94] Dobronravin, K. (later Bishop Hermogenes of Pskov). An Outline of the History of the Russian Church from the Beginnings of Christianity in Russia to the Present. St. Petersburg, 1863 (430 pp., briefly covers the era of Nicholas I); Denisov, I. An Outline of the History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1874; Lavrov, A. (later Archbishop of Lithuania). An Outline of the History of the Russian Church. Moscow, 1880. 5th ed. – 1902 (263 pp.); Malitsky, V. A. (lecturer at the Tula Theological Seminary). A Guide to the History of the Russian Church. Vol. 1 (988–1589). Tula, 1888; Vol. 2 (1589–1700). Moscow, 1889; Vol. 3 (the Synodal Period). Moscow, 1889.

[95] On the development of Russian historiography in the 19th century, see: Rubinstein, N. L. Russian Historiography. Moscow, 1941.

[96] History of the Reign of Peter I. Vol. 1–3 (St. Petersburg, 1858); Vol. 4, Parts 1–2 (St. Petersburg, 1863); Vol. 5 (unpublished); Vol. 6 (St. Petersburg, 1859); Volumes 1–4 cover the period up to 1706; vol. 6 (Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich) covers the period up to 1718. Each volume includes an appendix containing documents relating, among other things, to the history of the Church; the second part of volume 4 consists solely of documents.

[97] Theophan Prokopovich and His Time. St. Petersburg, 1868, in: Collection of Articles Presented at the Department of Russian Language and Literature of the Imperial Academy of Sciences. Vol. 5. See the extensive reviews of Chistovich’s work: Pekarsky, P. P., in: The 34th Awarding of the P. N. Demidov Prizes. St. Petersburg, 1868. pp. 117–143 (still based on the manuscript); the same author, in: Report on the 10th Awarding of Count Uvarov’s Prizes. St. Petersburg, 1868. pp. 13–35; Sukhomlinov, M. I., in: ZhMNP. 1869. Part 142. pp. 257–305; A. Pypin, in V.E. 1869. 3. pp. 791–818; cf.: Kartashov, in Christian Readings 1903. No. 7. p. 86 ff.

[98] On the “Guide,” see: Verkhovskaya, Vol. 1, p. XCI. Readings from the History of the Russian Church during the Reign of Catherine II, in Prav. Sob. 1875, Nos. 2, 3, 4, 9; Readings from the History of the Russian Church during the Reign of Alexander I, in Prav. Sob. 1885 and as a separate book: Kazan, 1885. Monographs: a) The Parish Clergy in Russia Since the Time of Peter the Great’s Reforms. Kazan, 1873 (originally published in Prav. Sob., 1871–1872); b) Theological Schools in Russia Before the Reform of 1808. Kazan, 1881; c) History of the Kazan Theological Academy during the First (Pre-Reform) Period of Its Existence (1842–1870). 3 vols. Kazan, 1891–1892.

[99] A Guide to the History of the Russian Church. Vol. 1 (Ryazan, 1886), Vol. 2 (Moscow, 1886), Vol. 3 (Moscow, 1889), Vol. 4 (Moscow, 1893); 2nd ed. Vols. 1–2. Ryazan, 1889.

[100] The Russian Church in the 19th Century, in: History of the Christian Church in the 19th Century, ed. A. P. Lopukhin. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1901. For reviews, see § 4, note 31.

[101] It should be noted here that there are also two lithographed lecture series: 1) Nikolaevsky, I., Lectures on Russian Church History. St. Petersburg, 1896 (delivered at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy) and 2) B. Titlinov, Lectures on the History of the Russian Church, delivered at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy in 1913–1914. St. Petersburg, 1914—neither of which was available to me. The works by G. Makarov, *The Russian Church in the Era of Commercial Capitalism* (Moscow, 1930), and by N. M. Nikolsky, *History of the Russian Church* (Moscow, 1931, published by “Atheist”), have no scholarly value, as they constitute typical anti-religious propaganda.

[103] Titlinov, B. V. Gavriil Petrov, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg (b. 1730, † 1801). His Life and Activities in Connection with Church Affairs of That Time. St. Petersburg, 1916 (Proceedings of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, vol. 5).

[104] Verkhovskoy, P. V. The Establishment of the Ecclesiastical Collegium and the “Ecclesiastical Regulations.” 2 vols. Rostov-on-Don, 1916 (Volume 2 contains the texts of all documents relating to Peter’s church reform).

[105] Golubinsky, E. E. “On the Reform of the Russian Church’s Internal Affairs,” in: Readings. 1913. No. 3.

[106] See the bibliography for § 5: Gradovsky, Berdnikov, Gorchakov, Suvorov, Romanovich-Slavatinsky, Kazansky, Lazarevsky.

[107] See a selection of similar views in the book: Benz, E., *Die Ostkirche im Lichte der protestantischen Geschichtsschreibung von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart*. Munich, 1952. The position of Catholic historians and theologians was contradictory. On the one hand, they wrote countless books on the question of union, proposals for which were constantly being made; but at the same time, sharp attacks against the Eastern Church could be found in Catholic literature. “Neither Catholics nor Western Protestants respect the views of the Eastern Church. They are all outdated; they no longer play any role. They are not even criticized, because they simply do not interest anyone… They represent a life without spirit… They have died out and become obsolete” (Prince Max von Sachsen. Lectures on the Question of the Eastern Churches. Freiburg in der Schweiz, 1907. pp. 60, 56). To be sure, this author later softened his judgment. Another opinion of this kind: “The characteristic features of the internal religious life of Orthodoxy are, indisputably, stagnation, numbness, and decline… Despite its worthlessness, powerlessness, deafness, and inertia, the Eastern Church diligently strives to confine itself to the old national boundaries, but even here it is incapable of reviving the faithful through the power of God’s word and leading them to a zealous, active Christian life” (Lübeck, K. The Christian Churches of the East. Kempten, 1911. pp. 174, 190). These are just two quotations from this work, and many more could easily be cited. Similar thoughts can be found in the book: Grivec, F. Pravoslavje. Ljubljana, 1918. p. 139 (in Slovenian). As early as 1926, Mukermann, a member of the Society of Jesus, wrote: “If we ask ourselves soberly what Eastern theology has to offer us, we will find ourselves somewhat at a loss. We cannot in any way share the enthusiasm for Eastern Christianity” (Fr. Muckermann, S.J., “On Eastern Christianity,” in: Theologische Revue, 1926, No. 6, p. 201). We will not address here works written under the influence of Polish Catholic literature, which places blame for the Russian government’s policies in Poland, in part, on the Russian Church. This topic will be discussed in Volume 2, when the Russian Church’s position toward Catholicism is examined.

[108] See the bibliography: Boissard (only a few pages here on the Synodal period: 1. pp. 218–235; 2. pp. 332–364, 510–517); Bonwetsch, pp. 70–84; Brian-Chaninov (overview only); Dalton’s work presents only the author’s observations on the 1860s–1880s; Dearmer (a popular account); Fortescue (unfortunately very brief, but not bad); Cordillo (a useful work with a bibliography); Heard’s work was unavailable to me; Kattenbusch devotes only pp. 190–193 to the history of the Russian Church after 1700, focusing more on sectarianism and Old Belief (pp. 234–245; 542–552; here and in other chapters he also touches on the history of the Russian Church, though his assertions are often quite erroneous). Volume 3 of Leroy-Beaulieu is also not a scholarly work, although it does contain interesting observations that, of course, cannot be generalized. In contrast, A. Palmieri’s work *La Chiesa Russa. Le sue odierne condizioni, il suo riformismo dottrinale* (Florence, 1908) is a thorough study based on knowledge of Russian sources; unfortunately, the author covers only a very brief period—the early 20th century; he focuses on the reform plans of that time and on the activities of the Pre-Council Assembly, but also frequently refers to earlier events. This book is very useful for studying the history of the Russian Church in the early 20th century. Pinkerton’s work, which arose in connection with contacts between the Anglican and Russian Churches, is also not a scholarly work. H. J. Reynburn’s description of the Synodal period (pp. 170–284) is not an independent study; it is merely a very general overview organized according to the reigns of the Russian emperors, while the internal life of the Church is completely overlooked. The works of the Catholic scholar H. J. Schmitt deserve the historian’s attention; they focus primarily on the position of the Holy Synod as the highest ecclesiastical authority in relation to state power; the author also examines the canonical foundations of the ecclesiastical structure in Russia and in the Orthodox Church in general. In A. P. Stanley (London, 1908, pp. 272–402), we also find a very brief and general account. R. Stupperich provides a concise overview of the synodal period in a few pages. The Barnabite scholar C. Tondini (1876) examines the “Spiritual Regulations” and the relationship between the state and the Church following Peter I’s ecclesiastical reform (pp. 23–134), discusses the status of the Church in the Kingdom of Greece (pp. 174–178) and the Orthodox Church in the East (pp. 178–184); the remaining chapters are devoted to the question of union. The author draws on authentic Russian sources, and his work deserves attention because it articulates the position of Catholic scholarship. Tondini’s work was also published in English translation: *The Pope of Rome and the Popes of the Oriental Orthodox Church*. London, 1871. In addition, he authored a short work: *L’avenir de l’Église russe*. Paris, 1874. V. Vilinsky does not present a history of the Russian Church but rather a critique of it, and many of the author’s assertions are highly subjective. Brief overviews of the history of the Russian Church are provided by: a) W. Zaikyn (pp. 90–115; summary in German—pp. 167–172). The author attempts to provide a kind of reference guide on the development of all aspects of church life. Here, as in other chapters of the book devoted to the Eastern Church in general, Zaikyn endeavors to outline a periodization of the history of the Orthodox Eastern Church and also addresses certain historiographical issues. This work is further interesting and valuable in that the author bases his exposition on a solid knowledge of the sources and the literature cited herein. b) Historians may also find the work of the Ukrainian scholar Lototsky of interest, as he, too, has a strong command of the sources and historiography. The author addresses the issue of autocephaly in the history of the Eastern Church and discusses it as it applies to the Russian Church, citing the most important works on this subject. The last three researchers were educated within the Russian academic-theological school. Another work has recently appeared: Benz, E., *Geist und Leben der Ostkirche*. Hamburg, 1957; various chapters in this book touch upon the history of the Russian Church during the Synodal period.

[109] Selected works of this kind are listed in the bibliography (General Literature b). Due to the excessive length of the bibliographic list, we have omitted works dealing with specific topics.

[110] Some of these encyclopedias and dictionaries are listed in the list of abbreviations.

[111] Unfortunately, there are as yet no special maps or atlases that could serve as aids in the study of the history of the Russian Church. Worthy of mention is the large series “Russia” (see General Literature c), which contains very good maps of individual regions of Russia. Professor I. M. Pokrovsky of the Kazan Theological Academy published a well-crafted and, in this context, very useful work (see bibliography), which, alas, remained unfinished; the promised map supplements were also never published. Volume 2 (1913) is devoted to the 18th century and provides a history of the territorial development of individual dioceses; this work is indispensable in other contexts as well. Maps of individual dioceses are available in the PBE.

[112] For a biography of Peter, see: Ustryalov, *History* (on Peter’s church policy, see especially vol. 4); Bogoslovsky; Platonov (1927); Bruckner; Solovyov, *Readings*; Verkhovskaya, *The Establishment*, vols. 1–2; Shmurlo (1922), pp. 272–342; Wittram.

[113] Platonov (1927). p. 48. On Natalia Kirillovna, see: RBS (Naake-Nikolai) (1914). p. 121 ff.

[114] Platonov. Lectures. p. 466. The following works are of great importance regarding the events of 1682–1689: Belov, in: ZhMNP. 1887. No. 1–2; Shmurlo, E. The Fall of Princess Sophia, in: ZhMNP. 1886. No. 1; Aristov (1871) and O’Brien (1952). Sophia was the daughter of Tsar Alexei by his first wife, Maria Miloslavskaya; she was born on September 17, 1657. From May 25, 1682, to September 12, 1689, she served as regent (co-ruler) for the tsarevichs John and Peter due to their young age. On September 12, 1689, she was deposed by Peter, and on October 21, 1698, she was tonsured a nun by his order; Sophia died in the convent on July 3, 1704 (see Table 1). Patriarch Joakim’s proclamation on the election of Peter as sole sovereign, in: SGGD. 4. No. 132; acts on the dual reign—ibid. No. 147 (on Sophia’s regency—p. 444).

[115] Belov, in: ZhMNP. 1887. No. 2. p. 356.

[116] Skvortsov, “Patriarch Adrian,” in Prav. Sob. 1913, No. 7, pp. 116 ff., 114.

[117] Patriarch Joakim’s anti-Western stance was quite distinct; see his Testament, in: OLDP. 42 (1879) and Ustryalov. 2. App. 9.

[118] AAE, No. 515; reprinted in 1698: PSZ, Vol. 3, No. 1664; see: Smolitsch, pp. 175 ff.

[119] Platonov (1927). pp. 70, 81, 83.

[120] Ustryalov. 3. App. 37, 80; Adrian’s protest—ibid. 3. p. 500. There is a good study by V. Veryuzhsky on Afanasy Lyubimov: Afanasy, Archbishop of Kholmogory: His Life and Works in Connection with the History of the Kholmogory Diocese During the First 20 Years of Its Existence and of the Russian Church in General at the End of the 17th Century. St. Petersburg, 1908 (including bibliography). On Peter’s favorable attitude toward Afanasy, see: Golubtsov, A. P., “Officials of the Kholmogory Transfiguration Cathedral,” in: Readings. 1903. 4. pp. 246–251; cf.: Ikonnikov, Memoirs. 1. 1 (1891). p. 1076, note 1.

[121] Platonov (1927). p. 88; idem. Lectures. pp. 492, 485, 490–492; see Peter’s letter to Patriarch Dositheus of Jerusalem (summer 1700), in: Letters. 1. No. 323.

[122] PSZ. Vol. 4, No. 1741, 1887; cf.: Vol. 3, Nos. 1735, 1736; Vol. 4, No. 2015; also: Solovyov. Vol. 4 (Public Benefit). pp. 17 ff.; Ustryalov. Vol. 3. pp. 193, 350, 646; Russian Archives 1873. No. 10. pp. 2068 ff.; No. 11. pp. 2296 ff.; Tikhonravov. Works. 2. p. 180. On the pamphlets, see: Readings. 1883. 2. Miscellany. pp. 18 ff.; Baklanova. pp. 131–155; Kafengauz, V. V. I. P. Pososhkov. Moscow, 1950. pp. 173–178. On punishments for distributing pamphlets: PSZ. 4. No. 2445 (1711); 5. No. 2877 (1715), 3143 (1718), and the Military Code, Art. 149 (PSZ. 5. No. 3006). On Tsarina Eudoxia: Esipov. The Release of Tsarina Eudoxia, in: Readings. 1865. 3. Miscellany. pp. 1–63. Eudoxia died on March 27, 1731. On the Old Believers’ designation of Peter as the Antichrist, see: A Collection from Holy Scripture on the Antichrist, in: Readings. 1863. 1. Miscellany. p. 54; cf.: Smirnov, P. Disputes and Divisions in the Russian Schism of the First Quarter of the 18th Century. St. Petersburg, 1909. Supplement. p. 144.

[123] Cited from: Runkevich. 1. p. 27 (bibliography: Introduction B). In Solovyov. 15. p. 111, the text is incorrect; see instead: Ustryalov. 4. p. 535; cf.: Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 109–112 (letters regarding Adrian’s death). Pavlov-Silvansky (Drafts, p. 62) believed that “Kurbatov not only did not belong to the ranks of those who supported the restoration of the patriarchate, but was even, it seems, the instigator of Peter’s decision to abolish this institution.”

[125] Ignatius Rimsky-Korsakov, a former adherent of Old Moscow views, was particularly active in plotting against Markell. See Gorsky for his letter to Empress Natalia. Description. 2. 3. p. 479; see also: Solovyov. 14. p. 83 and Prozorovsky. Silvestr Medvedev, in: Readings. 1896. 3. p. 221. It is likely that Tsarina Natalia helped Ignatius obtain the Tobolsk Metropolis (1692–1701). On the conservative atmosphere surrounding Natalya, see: Zabelin, I. The Domestic Life of the Russian People in the 16th and 17th Centuries. Vol. 2: The Life of Russian Tsarinas. Moscow, 1869. On Markella: Shlyapkin. St. Dimitri of Rostov and His Time. St. Petersburg, 1891. pp. 167, 270; Kharlamovich. 1. pp. 256, note 1, 303 ff., 331, 433, 434; Ustryalov. 2. p. 351.

[126] Platonov. Lectures. 1915. p. 497. Patriarch Dositheus of Jerusalem warned Peter against appointing a Little Russian as patriarch (Kapterev, N. Correspondence of Patriarch Dositheus of Jerusalem with the Russian Government (1669–1707). Moscow, 1891. Supplement No. 8). As early as January 11, 1701, the Jesuits in Moscow were convinced that Peter had no intention of electing a new patriarch (Letters and Reports of the Jesuits on Russia in the Late 17th and Early 18th Centuries. St. Petersburg, 1904. pp. 5 ff., 66).

[127] Bogoslovsky. 4. pp. 173–184.

[128] Solovyov. 3 (Public Welfare). p. 814; Zabelin, I. The Domestic Life of the Russian Tsars. Vol. 1. Moscow, 1862. p. 177; Platonov (1927). p. 48 ff.; cf.: Stupperich, *Staatsgedanke*, and Wittram, in: *HZ* 173 (1952), p. 261 ff.

[129] Samarin, Yu. F. “Stefan Yavorsky and Theophan Prokopovich,” in: Collected Works. Vol. 5 (1880). p. 252; cf. pp. 247, 251–255.

[130] See: Letters, vol. 1, no. 10.

[131] Ibid. Vol. 5, pp. 241, 243, 293; Vol. 3, p. 450; Vol. 7, p. 36; Vol. 5, p. 341; Vol. 3, p. 45; Vol. 6, p. 35.

[132] Ibid. 3. pp. 450, 207, 45, 53, 68, 327; 5. pp. 319, 341; 6. pp. 36, 26, 28; Collection. 11. pp. 88, 102; PSZ. 4. No. 2236; 6. No. 3840. Runkevich, S. The Alexander Nevsky Lavra. 1713–1913. St. Petersburg, 1913. p. 215.

[133] Letters. Vol. 1, No. 26; Vol. 2, No. 26; Vol. 2, Nos. 400–465; Golubtsov. Op. cit., in: Readings. 1903. Vol. 4. pp. 246–252; Theophan Prokopovich. Sermons and Speeches. 2 (1761). p. 161 (cited in: TKDA. 1876. No. 4. p. 155); Ustryalov. 4. 2. p. 554; Ternovsky, in: TKDA. No. 10. p. 6; Shmurlo. A Course in Russian History. 3. Prague, 1935. p. 259.

[134] Pekarsky. Science in Russia under Peter the Great. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1862. p. 81; however, another source reports that Talitsky did not repent (ibid., p. 82).

[135] Chistovich. Feofan Prokopovich. p. 125.

[136] Ustryalov. Vol. 3. p. 511 ff. (this conversation took place in 1698 or 1699); for Peter’s other visits to Adrian, see: ibid. Vol. 1. p. 376; Vol. 3. pp. 12, 534–537; Peter’s last meeting with Adrian took place on October 4, 1699 (Bogoslovsky. 4. p. 283). Cf.: Zyzykin, M. V. Patriarch Nikon and His Political and Canonical Ideas. Vol. 3. Warsaw, 1938. pp. 218–223, where the author discusses Peter’s “diminishing” of Adrian’s dignity as patriarch.

[137] Chistovich. Op. cit. pp. 127, 141.

[138] PSZ. 6. No. 4450; PSPiR. 4. No. 1197.

[139] PSZ. 6. No. 4450; Pekarsky. Op. cit. 2. p. 401; Chistovich. p. 125. See also the report by the French envoy in St. Petersburg, La Vie, regarding Peter’s conversation with “church prelates” on the fact that the meaning of religion lies not in ceremonies but in purity of heart: Collection. 40. p. 60 (dated December 8, 1719).

[140] PSZ. 7. No. 4493; cf.: 6. No. 4450. One cannot agree with the opinion of P. V. Verkhovsky (1. p. 70) that Peter was indifferent to religious matters.

[141] PSZ. 4. No. 1910. Cf.: Wittram, in: HZ. 173 (1952). p. 276 ff. Already during his first trip to Europe (1697–1698), Peter took a keen interest in the religious life of other denominations—Catholics, Calvinists, and Lutherans (Shmurlo. Collection of Documents on the History of the Reign of Emperor Peter the Great. 1. p. 517; Pierling, P. *La Russie et le Saint-Siège*. 4. Paris, 1907. p. 137; Bogoslovsky. 2. p. 525). In 1722 (January 16), Peter ordered the Roman, Lutheran, and Calvinist catechisms to be translated and printed for public review: PSZ. 7. No. 4143.

[142] Regarding the fact that Peter was no stranger to the idea of a Christian mission among the pagans, see: Letters. 1. No. 472; PSZ. 4. No. 1800; 5. No. 2734. Cf.: Solovyov. Readings. p. 50.

[143] Solovyov, V. “Essays on the History of Russian Consciousness,” in: VE. 1889. No. 5. p. 303.

[144] Instruction, or Order, to the Voivodes (1719), in: PSZ. 5, No. 3294 or 6, No. 3987.

[145] Platonov (1927). p. 77 ff., 76.

[146] Platonov. Lectures. p. 526; Bogoslovsky. 1. pp. 136 ff.; Archive of Prince F. A. Kurakin. 1 (1890). p. 71; the French envoy Campredon also mentions the “most ridiculous council,” in: Collection. 40. p. 168; Bassewitz, in: Buschings Magazin. 9. p. 324.

[147] Golubinsky, E. E. “On Reforms in the Life of the Russian Church,” in: Readings. 1913. 3. p. 68.

[148] Shmurlo. 1922. p. 318. Cf.: Klyuchevsky. Course. 4 (1910). p. 51.

[149] See: Introduction A, note 45.

[152] Ustryalov. 3. p. 535. Stefan Yavorsky’s consecration as Metropolitan of Ryazan took place on April 7, 1700: Dvortsovye Razryady. 4. p. 1127. On Stefan Yavorsky: Ternovsky (all works cited); Runkevich. 1. pp. 62–91; Kharlamovich; Korolev; Samarin; Morev, I. “The ‘Stone of Faith’ of Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky” (1904); Tikhonravov; Chistovich. Feofan Prokopovich; Serech, J. “Stefan Yavorsky and the Conflict of Ideology in the Age of Peter the Great,” in *The Slavonic Review*. 30 (1951). On Yavorsky’s attitude toward Peter’s reforms: Kharlamovich. p. 467; Barsov. *The Holy Synod*. p. 207.

[153] On the Talitsky case, see: Tikhonravov; Esipov, G. Schismatic Cases of the 18th Century. Vol. 1. St. Petersburg, 1861. pp. 59–84; Pekarsky. Vol. 1. pp. 80–82; Solovyov. Vol. 15. pp. 122–124; ODDS. Vol. 1, p. 103 ff.; Vvedensky, S. “Bishop Ignatius of Tambov,” in: Istoricheskoe Obozrenie, 1902, No. 11, p. 625. Filaret (Obzor, Vol. 2, 3rd ed., 1884, p. 272) calls Talitsky a “priestless” (bezpopovets), a claim, however, contested by P. S. Smirnov (Disputes and Schisms in the Russian Schism of the First Quarter of the 18th Century. St. Petersburg, 1909. p. 149), who asserts that Talitsky was Orthodox.

[154] Peter approved only those candidates for the episcopate who did not oppose his reforms; see his decree to Stefan: PSZ. 5. No. 3239; cf.: Kharlamovich. p. 515.

[155] PSZ. 6. No. 3175, 3183; Chistovich. Op. cit. p. 57.

[156] PSZ. 4. No. 2328, 2330; Barsov. The Holy Synod. p. 414 ff.; Popov. p. 224.

[157] PSZ. 4. No. 2352; 5. No. 2985, Art. 29; No. 3001, 2991; 6. No. 3175, 3250, 3531. See: Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 524 ff. On the Consecrated Cathedral: Kapterev, N., “The Tsar and the Moscow Cathedrals of the 16th and 17th Centuries,” in: BV. 1906. No. 11–12; Likhnitsky, I., “The Consecrated Cathedral in Moscow in the 16th–17th Centuries,” in: Christian Readings. 1906. 1.

[158] PSZ. 5. Nos. 2991, 3232, 3662, 3349, 3653.

[159] PSZ. 5. Nos. 1713, 2863; 6. Nos. 3637, 3697, 3001, 3062; 5. No. 2920; 6. Nos. 3637, 3121, 3410, 3400.

[160] Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. pp. 102, 123, 128.

[161] Ibid. pp. 136, 131 ff.; PSZ. 4. No. 1834.

[162] PSZ. 4. No. 1886; Gorchakov. Op. cit. p. 140; Zavyalov. pp. 55–63.

[163] Gorchakov. Op. cit. pp. 242 ff., 163–168, 70–74.

[164] Gorchakov. Op. cit. pp. 123 ff.; see various decrees of the Senate: PSZ. 4. Nos. 2321, 2349, 2380, 2454, 2571, 2394, 2482, 2415, 2597, 2462, 2514, 2376; 5. Nos. 3038, 2953, 3409; 6. Nos. 3659, 3502.

[165] PSZ. 5. No. 2385; Pekarsky. 2. p. 443; Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 91, 112. Later, in 1731, Theophan Prokopovich wrote a special treatise titled “A Discourse on the Oath or Vow: Is It Proper for Christians to Swear by Almighty God?” (published in 1734). See: Morozov. p. 358 ff.

[166] Verkhovskoy. Vol. 1. pp. 522, 524 ff.

[167] Ustryalov. 6. pp. 29 ff., 506, 508, 512 (this volume is entirely devoted to the case of Tsarevich Alexei); Solovyov. 4 (Public Benefit). p. 270; Morozov. p. 92; Readings. 1861. 3. pp. 1–374; PSZ. 5. No. 3151 (manifesto of February 3, 1718, on Alexei’s renunciation of the succession to the throne). The French envoy La Vi also reported to Paris on the disputes between Peter and Alexei: Collection. 34. pp. 304 ff., 413 ff., 350, 354, 321 (here he reported that Peter allegedly intended to proclaim Alexei patriarch!). According to Ustryalov (6, p. 512), Alexei sympathized with the locum tenens Stefan and, through a trusted intermediary, advised him to reconcile with the tsar.

[168] On the trial of Tveretinov, see: “Note on the Tveretinov Case,” in: PDP. 38 (1882); Tveretinov’s “notebooks”: Prav. Sob. 1863, No. 8 (excerpt); minutes of the Senate session: ODDs. 1 (excerpt); see: Pekarsky. 1. pp. 481–492; Chistovich. p. 64 ff.; Tikhonravov, in: Works. 2. pp. 156–303; Solovyov. 16. p. 336 ff. (or 4 [Public Benefit]. p. 256); Pokrovsky, N. “The Struggle Against Protestant Ideas in the Time of Peter,” in: Russkiy Vestnik, 1872, No. 9; Ternovsky. “Moscow Freethinkers”; idem. “Moscow Heretics During the Reign of Peter I,” in: Pravda Soborna, 1862, Nos. 4–6; idem. “The Spiritual Newborn” and “The Stone of Faith”: Two Polemical Works Against Heretics, in: Prav. Sob. 1863, No. 12; D. Izvekov. “18th-Century Preaching and Anti-Protestant Literature,” in: Prav. Ob. 1871, No. 8; Chistovich. “Unpublished Works of Stefan Yavorsky,” in: Christian Readings 1867, No. 1; Morev. “The Stone of Faith” (1904); ibid. “Metropolitan Stefan Yavorsky in the Struggle Against Protestant Ideas.” St. Petersburg, 1905.

[169] The critique of Protestantism will be discussed in Vol. 2.

[171] “The Old Russian Party and the Schism under Peter,” in: Stranik, 1882, no. 1; Solovyov, 4. (Public Benefit). Pp. 401 ff. See the bibliography in note 56. On opposition to the reforms, see also: Sushitsky, F. “From the Literature of Peter’s Era,” in: Philological Notes. 1914. 2. pp. 263–280; Baklanova (see bibliography, § 1); Kafengauz, V. V. I. T. Pososhkov: Life and Work. Moscow, 1951. pp. 19 ff., 173 ff.

[172] Platonov. Lectures. pp. 537 ff.; Pogodin. The Trial of Tsarevich Alexei; Solovyov. 4 (Public Welfare). p. 401; Bruckner, A. Peter the Great. Berlin, 1879. p. 303; Pekarsky. 2. pp. 419–428.

[173] PSZ. 5. No. 3239. On Peter’s view regarding the collegial principle in governance, see his decree of December 2, 1718 (PSZ. 5. No. 3261). Later, Theophanes successfully used this decree in the “Spiritual Regulations” to demonstrate the necessity of the Spiritual Collegium.

[174] Pekarsky. 2. p. 484. The bibliographic index of this book lists the most important literature on Theophan Prokopovich; see also: RBS (Yablonsky-Komich). p. 448, as well as: Pekarsky. 2. pp. 481–492; Kharlamovich. pp. 469 ff., 508 ff., 511.

[176] Stupperich. Prokopovie in Rom. p. 327 ff.

[177] Petrov, N. “Excerpts from the Manuscript of Theophan Prokopovich’s Rhetoric,” in: TKDA. 1865. No. 4; idem. “From the History of Homiletics at the Old Kyiv Academy,” in: TKDA. 1866. No. 1; Morozov. p. 96 ff.

[178] Chistovich, p. 9 ff.; Morozov, p. 123 ff.

[179] Pekarsky. Vol. 2, No. 329; Theophan Prokopovich. Sermons and Speeches. Vol. 1. St. Petersburg, 1760. pp. 114 ff.; “On Royal Authority and Honor”—ibid. pp. 241–243.

[180] On the relationship between Stephen and Theophanes, see: Ternovsky. Metropolitan Stephen of Yavor, in: TKDA. 1864. Vol. 2. pp. 154 ff. On the position of other bishops toward Theophanes, see: Kharlamovich. p. 513. Metropolitan Varlaam Vanatovich of Kyiv also did not share Theophan’s theological views; see: Kryzhanovsky, E. “Theophan Prokopovich and Varlaam Vanatovich,” in: TKDA. 1861. 1. p. 234. Cf.: Chteniya. 1864. 4. Miscellany. pp. 5–8.

[181] Peter’s decrees on the establishment and internal organization of the colleges: PSZ. 5. Nos. 3129, 3131, 3133, 3207, 3255; 6. Nos. 3534, 3881. Peter’s resolution on Stefan Yavorsky’s report items dated November 20, 1718: PSZ. 5. No. 3239. According to Bogoslovsky (Peter the Great’s Provincial Reform. Moscow, 1902. p. 29), Peter had already decided in 1715 to introduce the collegial principle of governance. On the significance of the Prosecutor General and his relationship with the emperor, see: Gradovsky, A. The Higher Administration of 18th-Century Russia and the Prosecutor General. St. Petersburg, 1866. p. 115.

[182] Theophan Prokopovich himself refers to the “Regulations” as a book “containing a description and discussion of the Spiritual Collegium” (Verkhovskoy, *The Establishment*, vol. 1, p. 156).

[183] Samarin. Works. 5 (1880). p. 283.

[184] Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich. p. 625; Verkhovskoy. Op. cit. pp. 118–141.

[186] Chistovich. Op. cit. p. 118. On Protestant influences: Verkhovskoy. 1. pp. 491–494; and, in addition, the works of Gurvich and Stefanovich.

[187] Pekarsky. 1. pp. 41, 214, 234, 332.

[190] Gradovsky, A. The Principles of Russian Constitutional Law. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1887. p. 336. Other experts in constitutional law share a similar view: Ivanovsky, V. V. Textbook on Constitutional Law: Russian Constitutional Law. 4th ed. Kazan, 1913. p. 289. See also the views of Russian canonists: Berdnikov, I. A Brief Course in Canon Law. Vol. 2. Kazan, 1913. 2nd ed. p. 872; Temnikovsky, E. “One of the Sources of the ‘Spiritual Regulations,’” in: Collection of the Kharkiv Historical and Philological Society. 18 (1909). p. 5; idem, “The Position of the Emperor of All Russia” (see bibliography, § 5). p. 15; however, M. F. Vladimirsky-Budanov (Obzor [1888]. p. 235) writes that the Holy Synod is a permanent Local Council possessing the authority of the former patriarch in ecclesiastical matters (!). But Theophan himself believed that the new supreme ecclesiastical administration was part of state authority and at the same time subordinate to it: “The patriarchal authority in Russia was, as it were, independent, but now the Ecclesiastical Government has been established by the gracious discretion of His Imperial Majesty, not with power similar to that of the patriarchal government, but with a distinct one… The Most Pious Monarch has appointed himself as the supreme chairman and judge of that Holy Synod” (“On the Elevation of the Patriarchal Title,” in: ODDs. 1. No. 106).

[191] ODDS. 1. No. 151; Belogostitsky, in: ZhMNP. 1892. No. 6. p. 266; Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 183–190. Based on handwritten drafts of the “Regulations,” Verkhovskaya describes the sequence of events as follows: Theophanes completed the draft in early 1720; on February 11, Peter read it and made his amendments; on February 20–23, the draft was read aloud at a Senate session, which was also attended by six bishops: Stefan Yavorsky, Sylvester of Holm, Varlaam of Kosov, Pitirim, Aaron, and Theophan himself, as well as three archimandrites (pp. 156–164; cf. pp. 145–150). For Theophan’s sermon, see: Sermons and Speeches. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1761. pp. 63–70.

[192] PSZ. 6. No. 3718; we cite from the edition: Spiritual Regulations. St. Petersburg, 1818. pp. 3–8. The first edition of the “Regulations” was published in St. Petersburg on September 16, 1721; the 2nd ed., already including the “Addendum”—Moscow, February 23, 1722; the 3rd ed.—Moscow, 1722; the 4th ed.—Moscow, 1723. See: Pekarsky. 2. pp. 591 ff.; Verkhovskoy. 1. pp. 195–221; draft of the “Regulations”: 2. pp. 3–105. Theophan composed the text of the oath based on the Senate decree of January 22, 1716 (PSZ. 5. No. 2985). Later, the Old Believers actively criticized this form of the oath: Readings. 1863. Vol. 1. Miscellany. p. 60; as well as Markell Rodychevsky (Verkhovskoy. Vol. 2. p. 91). The oath for members of the Holy Synod was abolished only in 1901 (ibid. Vol. 1. p. 189; 2. p. 112 ff.). The decree of January 22, 1716, was published, likely on Peter’s initiative, after he had reviewed it beforehand (ibid. 2. p. 109). The “Spiritual Regulations” were printed in St. Petersburg in a German translation as early as 1721 (Verkhovskoy, 1, p. 215); the second edition of this translation appeared in Danzig in 1724; the 1725 Danzig edition also contains an “Addendum.” Another translation was made by A. L. v. Schlozer in his work: “Neuverandertes Ru?land, oder Leben Catharinae der Zweyten, mit Beylagen zum Neuveranderten Ru?land von Johann Joseph Haigold.” Vol. 1. Riga and Mitau, 1769 (Haigold is a pseudonym for Schlozer). The following are published here in a significantly better translation: a) “Spiritual Regulations.” pp. 147–260; b) “Explanation.” pp. 71–96; the “Regulations” are translated here without the “Addendum.” The texts are preceded by Schlezer’s introduction (pp. 1–71), in which he expresses his views on Peter’s church reform. An English translation of the “Regulations” is found in: Consett, Th. *The Present State and Regulation of the Church of Russia*. London, 1729. pp. 11–113; the “Addendum”—pp. 129–185. For a French translation of the “Regulations” without the “Addendum,” see the second part of the work: “Anecdotes du règne de Pierre Premier, dit le Grand, czar de Moscovie, contenant l’histoire d’Eudochia Fedorovna et la disgrâce du prince de Mencikow.” Paris, 1745. Vol. 2. pp. 14–171. Another translation was made by P. C. Tondini: *Règlement ecclésiastique de Pierre le Grand, traduit en français à partir du russe avec une introduction par R. P. C. Tondini, Barnabite*. Paris, 1874; appended to the French text is a Latin translation of the “Regulations,” published in Paris in 1786. For information on all these editions, see: Verkhovskaya, Vol. 1, pp. 215–221.

[193] Report Items, in: PSPiR. 1. No. 3.

[194] Verkhovskoy. Vol. 1, pp. 173–177; Vol. 2, No. 2, p. 20. The collection of signatures was not completed until January 4, 1721. See: Runkevich. Vol. 1, p. 120 ff.

[195] Muravyov. History of the Russian Church. St. Petersburg, 1840. p. 337.

[196] Imperial and Patriarchal Decrees on the Establishment of the Holy Synod. Moscow, 1899. pp. 3 ff. Church Slavonic text: 1) PSZ. 6. No. 4310; 2) PSPiR. 3. No. 1115; 3) St. Petersburg, 1843; together with the Greek text: St. Petersburg, 1838; Moscow, 1845; in Greek only: St. Petersburg, 1840. pp. 1–4 (Peter’s decree), pp. 5–6 (decrees of the Ecumenical Patriarchs), pp. 7–11 (other letters); see also: R. A. Röllh and M. Pottl. Syntagma. 5. p. 160 ff. On the drafts of Peter’s letter, see: Verkhovskaya. 2. pp. 152–157.

[197] See note 85. The response of the Patriarch of Antioch: PSZ. 3. No. 4310; Greek text: St. Petersburg, 1840. p. 7. As early as September 26, 1721, the Patriarch of Antioch appealed to Peter for financial assistance (ODDS. 4. Supplement 8).

[198] “Spiritual Regulations” in the PSZ or in any other edition.

[199] Here, Theophanes recalls the conflict between Tsar Alexei and Patriarch Nikon. Similarly, in the decree of January 31, 1724: PSZ. 7. No. 4450. p. 227. See: Introduction by A.

[200] Kotovich, A. Spiritual Censorship in Russia, 1799–1855. St. Petersburg, 1909. p. 170.

[201] Filaret Gumilevsky. History of the Russian Church. Period Five. St. Petersburg, 1862. p. 3.

[202] Filaret Drozdov. Conversations Between the Doubting and the Convinced. St. Petersburg, 1845. 4th ed. pp. 150, 152.

[203] PSPiR. 2. No. 901; Barsov. The Holy Synod. 1896. p. 261, note.

[204] PSPiR. 2. No. 401, 403; Pekarsky. 1. pp. 41, 234, 332. On June 28, 1723, Theophilus Krolik was appointed archimandrite of the Chudov Monastery.

[206] “Addendum,” in: PSPiR. 2. No. 596 and PSZ. 6. No. 4022; later published together with the “Regulations.”

[207] Historical Inquiry, in: Verkhovskaya. 2. No. 10. Theophan’s “Inquiry” was designated in the archives of the Holy Synod as a “secret document” (Kotovich. Op. cit. p. 548). Cf.: Morozov, pp. 255–258 (excerpts from “The Investigation” are included here).

[208] Pekarsky. 2. pp. 502, 519; Chistovich. p. 105.

[209] Cf. the opinion of E. E. Golubinsky: “On the Reform of the Russian Church,” in: Readings. 1913. Vol. 3.

[210] For example, in: Pavlov, A. Course in Canon Law. Moscow, 1892. p. 507.

[211] M. I. Gorchakov was the first to write about this in his review: “Report on the 43rd Award Ceremony of Count Uvarov.” St. Petersburg, 1902; see also: Bishop Sergius (Stragorodsky), in: Proceedings of the Council of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy for 1901–1902 (Christian Readings 1902, Supplement, pp. 199–225); N. K. Nikolsky (ibid., pp. 230–253); A. V. Kartashov (ibid., pp. 253–277). All of them sharply criticized Runkevich’s work. T. M. Barsov and A. P. Lopukhin gave it a positive evaluation (ibid., pp. 225–230, 277–280). The first three reviewers found Runkevich’s work insufficiently scholarly to warrant the degree of Doctor of Theology, but Barsov and Lopukhin spoke in favor of awarding it. The Holy Synod conferred this degree upon Runkevich; cf.: Introduction by B.

[212] Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 264, 269, 271 ff., 312 ff., 685, 343 ff.; cf. the works of Gurvich and Stefanovich; Florovsky. pp. 83 ff. M. I. Gorchakov’s review of T. Barsov’s book *Synodal Institutions* (St. Petersburg, 1896), published in *Report on the 40th Award Ceremony of Count Uvarov* (St. Petersburg, 1899), remains valuable.

[213] The first composition of the Holy Synod: 1) President—Stefan Yavorsky; Vice Presidents: 2) Theodosius Yanovsky and 3) Theophan Prokopovich; Advisors: 4) Peter Smelich, Archimandrite of the Simonov Monastery, 5) Leonid, archimandrite of the Vysokopetrovsky Monastery; 6) Hierotheos, archimandrite of the Novospassky Monastery; 7) Gabriel Buzhinsky, archimandrite of the Ipatievsky Monastery; assessors: 8) John Semenov, archpriest of the Trinity Cathedral; 9) Peter Grigoriev, priest of the Church of St. Sampson, 10) Anastasius Kondoidi, a Greek priest who was tonsured a monk on March 2, 1721, and subsequently appointed abbot of the Tolg Monastery; from that time on, he is referred to in documents as Athanasius; On February 14, Monk Theophilus Krolik became the fifth assessor; on February 18, Theophylact Lopatinsky, archimandrite of the Zaikonospassky Monastery and rector of the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy, was appointed a member of the Synod. On March 3, Pyotr Grigoriev was appointed protopresbyter of St. Peter and Paul Cathedral and dismissed from the Synod, and Theophylact Lopatinsky took his place as the fifth counselor. Thus, the Synod now consisted of 11 members. But on March 6, Peter ordered that “the Greek from Belts” Nausius (probably a priest) be appointed as the sixth councilor (PSPiR. 2. No. 115); he remained a member of the Synod until his death on February 11, 1725: Readings. 1917. 2. Miscellany. p. 7; ODDs. 1. No. 665; PSPiR. 2. No. 293. It cannot be ruled out that Nausius was a layperson; see: Barsov. The Holy Synod in Its Past. p. 261, note; Verkhovskaya. 1. p. 10 ff.; Chistovich. pp. 73–98.

[214] Pekarsky. Vol. 2, p. 501 ff.; PSZ. Vol. 6, No. 3754; Chistovich. p. 105 ff. The full title of Yavorsky’s note was as follows: “Apology, or Verbal Defense, Concerning the Explicit Commemoration and Remembrance in the Church Prayers of the Holy Orthodox Patriarchs, Submitted in Written Form by the Most Holy Governing Synod to the Most Excellent Governing Senate, with a Counter-Response from the Humble Stephen, Metropolitan of Ryazan, submitted for the prudent consideration of the distinguished Governing Senate, in the year of Christ 721, June 9.” It is noteworthy that Stephen sought protection specifically from the Senate.

[215] PSPiR. 1. No. 98; cf. Chistovich. p. 106.

[216] Tikhonravov. Works. 2. p. 156 ff.; Esipov. Op. cit. p. 3 ff.

[217] On Feodosiy Yanovsky: Moroshkin, I. “Feodosiy Yanovsky,” in: Russkiye Stat’i, 1887, Nos. 7, 10, 11; Titlinov, “Feodosiy Yanovsky,” in: RBS; Runkevich, Vol. 1, p. 17; Esipov, G. People of the Old Era. St. Petersburg, 1881. S. G. Runkevich provides a great deal of biographical material. The Alexander Nevsky Lavra. St. Petersburg, 1913; Yanovsky was the archimandrite of this monastery. Chistovich (pp. 74–87) contains many errors in Yanovsky’s biography.

[218] On Theophylact of Lopatino: Moroshkin, I. “Theophylact of Lopatino,” in: Russkiye Stтии, 1886, no. 2; PSPiR, vol. 2, nos. 403, 418, 462; ODDS, vol. 2, no. 695; Titlinov, B., “Theophylact of Lopatino,” in: RBS, pp. 457–466 (bibliography); Kharlamovich (by name index). Cf. § 8.

[219] See note 102; PSPiR. 2. No. 401, 493, 691; 4. No. 1192, 1452; 3. No. 1150; ODDs. 2. No. 283.

[220] PSPiR. 1. No. 8, 196; 2. No. 379; ODDs. 1. No. 283; Chistovich. pp. 88, 93.

[221] PSZ. 6. No. 3712; PSPiR. 1. No. 298; 3. No. 998, 1155; 4. No. 1267, 1280, 1303, 1363; cf.: N. Olshevsky, where this topic is discussed in detail.

[222] Runkiewicz. 1. pp. 133–142.

[223] On the organization of the governing bodies of the Holy Synod in 1721–1725: PSZ. 6. No. 3534; Runkevich; Barsov; Popov; Obraztsov; Olshevsky; Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 505–717, 546–566; Dobroklonsky. 4. § 12. On the activities of the inquisitors: PSZ. 6. No. 3870 (instructions for the proto-inquisitor); PSPiR. 1. No. 348; 2. No. 693; ODDS. 1. No. 259; Barsov, E. “Secular Prosecutors and Ecclesiastical Inquisitors,” in: ZhMNP. 1878. No. 2.

[224] Belogostitsky, in: ZhMNP. 1892. No. 7. p. 15 ff.

[226] PSPiR. 2. No. 680; PSZ. 6. No. 4001.

[227] “Addendum on the Rules for the Church Clergy and the Monastic Order,” in: PSZ. 6. No. 4022; PSPiR. 2. No. 596; later published together with the “Spiritual Regulations” (Pekarsky. 2. pp. 523, 544). Peter personally added a provision (paragraph 36) forbidding monks from keeping paper and ink in their cells: Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 491 ff. On the origin of the “Addendum”—ibid., pp. 196–206. On Peter’s reprimand: Pekarsky, vol. 2, p. 528.

[228] PSPiR. 1. Nos. 55, 110, 111; 2. Nos. 516, 626. A decree of the Holy Synod dated May 20, 1721, required parish priests to assist the police in compiling census lists: PSZ. 6. No. 3787.

[229] PSPiR. 1. No. 31; 2. Nos. 423, 534, 625, 721, 777; PSZ. 7. No. 4480 (regarding lists of those to be baptized, the so-called metric books; Peter had issued an order to this effect even earlier, on April 14, 1702: PSZ. 4. No. 1908).

[230] Ecclesiastical Regulations. Part 3. Section 7; PSPiR. 1. No. 2. Section 4.

[231] Ecclesiastical Regulations. Matters Concerning Bishops; PSPiR. 1. No. 3; 2. Nos. 596, 1061, 548, 586, 662; 3. No. 1071; PSZ. 7. Nos. 4190, 4455.

[232] Ecclesiastical Regulations. Matters Concerning Bishops.

[233] Ibid. Parts 2 and 3; PSZ. 6. No. 3854, 3888, 3891, 3925, 4079, 4154; 7. No. 4578, 4653, 4277. For No. 3924a, 4669a, see: PSZ. 40. Appendix.

[234] PSPiR. 2. Nos. 454, 477, 584; 3. No. 1090; 1. No. 33; 2. Nos. 632, 693. An anathema against the Ukrainian hetman Mazepa, who was a political criminal, was declared by the Holy Synod by order of Peter: PSZ. 4. No. 2213 (dated November 12, 1708). See: Solovyov. 15. p. 362. Peter’s manifestos on Mazepa: PSZ. 4. No. 2212, 2221, 2224.

[235] PSZ. 6. Nos. 3854, 3963, 4081; PSPiR. 2. Nos. 532, 693. With regard to the period prior to 1721: Code of 1649, Ch. 20, § 80; Ch. 22, §§ 25, 26 (PSZ, Vol. 1, No. 1).

[236] Spiritual Regulations. Part 3. Paragraph 8; On Lay Persons. Paragraph 11; PSPiR. 2. No. 532; PSZ. 6. No. 3798, 3814; 7. No. 4254; 6. No. 3839. Art. 4; 6. No. 4081.

[237] Spiritual Regulations. Part 3. Paragraph 11; PSPiR. 2. No. 332; cf. PSZ. 4. Nos. 1818, 1839; 6. Nos. 4081, 3854.

[238] PSZ. 4. No. 1829, 1876; PSPiR. 2. No. 693.

[239] PSPiR. 1. No. 57, 286. Art. 1.

[240] Cited in: Verkhovskaya. 1. p. 111.

[241] PSPiR. 1. No. 3. Art. 2; No. 368, 312. Verkhovskaya. 1. pp. 546–566; Golubev, A. A., “The Holy Synod,” in: The Internal Life of the Russian State from October 17, 1740, to November 25, 1741, Based on Documents from the Moscow Archive of the Ministry of Justice. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1886. pp. 227 ff., 253 ff.; F. Jordania. pp. 45 ff. T. Barsov (The Holy Synod in Its Past, p. 414) asserts that the Synod and the Senate were equal in status as institutions, but in some cases Peter subordinated the Synod to the Senate.

[242] PSPiR. Vol. 1, No. 286; Vol. 2, Nos. 716, 731, 938, 808, 841, 534, 625, 777; Vol. 2, Nos. 1160, 898; Vol. 4, No. 1434; Vol. 3, No. 1026; Vol. 2, Nos. 838, 1187; Vol. 4, Nos. 1350, 1379, 1420, 1427, 1351, 1414; cf. Peter’s earlier decrees from 1713: PSZ. 4. No. 2328, 2330. Petrovsky. p. 318 ff.

[243] PSZ. 6. No. 4001; PSPiR. 2. No. 609.

[244] PSZ. 6. No. 4036; PSPiR. 2. No. 680.

[245] PSPiR. 2. No. 901; 4. Nos. 1160, 1376.

[246] PSZ. 6. No. 3790; PSPiR. 1. Nos. 128, 141; 2. Nos. 571, 767; 3. No. 1078; 4. No. 1330; 3. Nos. 1060, 1045, 1142.

[247] PSPiR. 1. No. 149, 167, 247; 2. No. 572, 767; 4. No. 1184, 1207, 1303, 1320, 1330 (regarding Lutherans); PSZ. 8. No. 5343 of 1728; cf.: Dalton, H. *Verfassungsgeschichte der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche in Ru?land*. Gotha, 1887. pp. 30 ff. On April 27, 1725, the Holy Synod issued a decree by order of Catherine I, according to which a memorial service was to be held in the churches of all Christian denominations for the late Emperor Peter (PSZ. 7. No. 4705).

[248] PSPiR. Vol. 4, No. 1330; Vol. 1, Nos. 128, 146; Vol. 2, No. 767; Vol. 4, Nos. 1184, 1221, 1303, 1226.

[249] PSPiR. Vol. 4, Nos. 1207, 1291; Solovyov. Vol. 4 (Public Welfare). p. 291 (The Synod did not permit the ringing of bells at the Catholic church in St. Petersburg).

[250] PSPiR. 2. No. 571; 3. Nos. 1045, 1060, 1142.

[253] Solovyov. 3 (Public Benefit). p. 1054. Cf. his *Lectures on Peter the Great*. Moscow, 1872, as well as later similar views by Klyuchevsky, Platonov, and Bogoslovsky. E. Shmurlo (A Course in Russian History. Vol. 3. Prague, 1935. pp. 145, 288) also emphasizes that Peter’s reforms had their roots in the 17th century.

[254] Verkhovskoy. The Institution. Vol. 1. p. 501. Evidence of the diarchy can be seen in the fact that during the coronation, two thrones were placed side by side in the center of the church: one for the tsar and one for the patriarch. Barsov, in: Readings. 1883. Vol. 1. pp. 91, 98, 101; cf.: Vladimirsky-Budanov. 1888. p. 151.

[255] See Introduction A and Smolitsch. pp. 283–287; Kapterev, N. Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Vol. 1. 1909. pp. 181 ff.

[256] On the question of relations between the state and the Church, and between the emperor and the Church in Byzantium, I will mention only a few, mostly recent, works: Ostrogorsky, *Geschichte*, 1940, especially pp. 17, 47, 169; ibid., in: *Seminarium Kondakovianum*, 1931, 4; Vernadsky, G. “The Ecclesiastical-Political Doctrine of the Epanagoge,” in Byz. – Neugriech. Jb. 6. 1928, pp. 119–142; Treitinger, 1938, 1940; Ensslin, W. *God-Emperor and Emperor by the Grace of God*. Munich, 1934; Berkhof, H. *Church and Emperor: A Study of the Origins of the Byzantine and Theocratic Concept of the State in the Fourth Century*. Zollikon; Zurich, 1947; Kartashov, in: *Church and Cosmos*; Wolf, E. “On the Origins of Imperial Synodal Authority, Its Theological Justification, and Ecclesiastical Reception,” ibid., pp. 153–168. For recent literature, see: Dolger, F., and Schneider, A. M., *Byzanz*. Bern, 1952, p. 97. Among older works that particularly emphasize the emperor’s supreme authority over the Church are: Gelzer, H., “Das Verhaltnis von Staat und Kirche,” in: *BZ* 86, 1901; Bury, J. B., *The Constitution of the Later Roman Empire*. London, 1910; Brehier, L., and Batiffol, P., *Les survivances du culte impérial romain*. Paris, 1920. Here is what H. G. Beck writes in his interesting article: “Byzanz. Der Weg zu seinem Verstandnis,” in: *Saeculum*, 1954, 5. No. 1. pp. 87–103: “The Byzantine idea of the empire is, in a very special sense, ‘political theology’… This term has been in use for a long time, but it does not appear to have been theoretically conceptualized or substantiated. Its conceptualization would consist in tracing what the actual theological (i.e., derived from Sacred Scripture and theological tradition) justification for the imperial idea in Byzantium, and to examine to what extent attempts were made in Byzantium—not only on an intuitive level but also through theological argumentation—to elevate the earthly political order to the transcendent Divine order… Time and again, voices are heard denying that the emperor was the supreme authority in the Church as well, and that this, as a rule (i.e., with the exception of certain specific political circumstances), was not viewed as tyranny at all, but rather as a perfectly normal phenomenon. Such a denial is not merely a reluctance to accept historical evidence. However evident this reluctance may be, something else is no less evident: where this indisputable fact is actually acknowledged, it is all too hastily labeled “Caesaropapism.” In both cases, the fault lies essentially in the same (perfectly understandable) misunderstanding: the intellectual world of Byzantium is divided into two halves—the secular and the ecclesiastical. But in reality, the emperor by no means represents the “secular” principle, just as the patriarch does not represent the “ecclesiastical” one—if we are to speak in the most absolute terms, without delving into nuances. Both the emperor and the patriarch are imbued with the same spirit, ћn pneаma, and it is only their gifts, car…smata, that differ… Therefore, concepts such as Caesaropapism do not reflect the essence of the matter at all; to frame the question in this way is incorrect a priori” (pp. 94–95). See also: Ziegler, A. W., “Die byzantinische Religionspolitik und der sogenannte Caesaropapismus,” in Munchener Beitrage zur Slavenkundë: Festgabe für P. Diels. Munich, 1953, pp. 81, 97. On the problem of relations between the state and the Church in Muscovite Rus’, see the bibliography for Introduction A, d).

[257] See: Klyuchevsky. Course. 4 (1910). p. 277; Vladimirsky-Budanov. Op. cit. pp. 143–155.

[258] Latkin. Textbook (see: bibliography, general literature, b). p. 249.

[260] Author’s italics. “Spiritual Regulations,” in: PSZ. 6. No. 3718.

[261] Pekarsky. 1. p. 519 (No. 477); Chistovich. Feofan Prokopovich. p. 128; see §§ 3, 4.

[262] Verkhovskoy. Institution. 2 (here, pp. 5–20 contain the text of “Rozyska”). p. 13.

[263] PSZ. 6. No. 3893; see: Pekarsky. 1. pp. 571–575; Gradovsky. 1. p. 175.

[264] PSZ. 6. No. 4870. p. 628; see: Latkin. Op. cit. p. 245.

[266] Verkhovskoy. Op. cit. 1. pp. VI, 608. E. E. Golubinsky remarks on this subject: “It is said that Peter declared himself the head of the Church. But this is not true. In the oath taken by the members of the Synod, he calls himself the supreme judge of the Synod’s members. But that is not at all the same as being the head of the Church” (Readings. 1913. 3. p. 76). Only Paul I called himself the head of the Church in the law on succession to the throne dated April 5, 1797.

[267] Platonov. Lectures (1915). p. 544.

[269] Latkin. Op. cit. p. 251; Korsakov, D. A. The Accession of Anna Ioannovna. Kazan, 1880. p. 17.

[270] Verkhovskoy. The Establishment. Vol. 1. p. 653.

[273] See the letters from Count Mersi-Arzanto to Count Kaunitz: Collection, vol. 18, pp. 371, 391 (dated May 28 and June 18, 1762); Bolotov, A., Memoirs, vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1870, p. 172; Russian Archives, 1871, p. 2055. Peter III’s decree of March 26, 1762, which is missing from the PSZ, was published in Russian Articles, 1872, vol. 6, p. 567; see also: Russian Articles, 1879, vol. 25, p. 586.

[274] See: Smolitsch, “Catherine II’s Religious Views and the Russian Church,” in: JGO, 1938, vol. 3, pp. 568–579.

[275] Author’s italics. PSZ. 16. No. 11582; cf. 16. No. 11643.

[276] Author’s italics. PSZ. 16. No. 11598 (dated July 5, but announced on July 7); further, the manifesto of July 7, 1762: PSZ. 16. No. 11599, in which Peter III’s death was attributed to God’s will (“he passed away by the will of Almighty God”). Even the manifesto regarding the reduction of the salt tax (dated July 5, 1762) emphasizes: “We, having ascended to the All-Russian imperial throne by God’s providence and guidance…,” and the manifesto on punishments for corruption in administrative bodies (dated July 18, 1762) states: “Our action (i.e., our accession to the throne. – I. S.), in which God guided Us…” (quoted from: Decrees… of Empress Catherine Alexeyevna. St. Petersburg, 1776. 2nd ed. pp. 11, 37). And even in her own handwritten account of her reign, Catherine II did not fail to mention: “Catherine had ascended the throne; she had been placed there to defend the Orthodox faith” [“Catherine ascended the throne to defend the Orthodox faith” (French)], in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1865, p. 490.

[277] Sablukov, B. N., “Notes,” in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1879, p. 1876.

[278] Letters to Voltaire, in: Collection. 14. p. 378 (dated December 27, 1773); to Grimm—ibid. 33. p. 142 (dated April 28, 1781). She also referred to herself as the “Orthodox Empress”—ibid. 7. p. 156.

[280] Shcherbatov, M. M. “Statistics in the Context of Russia,” in: Readings. 1859. 3. p. 70; Correspondence of Catherine II with Monsieur Voltaire. St. Petersburg, 1803. pp. 14, 24; see: Titlinov, B. Gavriil Petrov, Metropolitan of Novgorod (1916). pp. 281, 360.

[281] Letters and documents held in the Pavlovsk Palace Archives, in: Russian Historical Review. 1874. 4. Nos. 740, 742; Paul I borrowed these words from the memoirs of Count Sully. Cf. Paul I’s manifesto of March 18, 1797, in: PSZ. 24. No. 17879, and in particular his decree of November 3, 1798, on the administration of the Roman Catholic Church in Russia (PSZ, vol. 25, No. 18734), in which the Catholic clergy are also required to show loyalty and obedience to the sovereign, “as the ruler chosen by God Himself” (p. 436).

[283] Author’s italics. PSZ. 24. No. 17910; cf.: Code of Laws. Vol. 1 (Fundamental Laws). Art. 13.

[285] On this draft by Rosenkampf, see: Makarov, A. N., “Entwurf der Verfassungsgesetze des russischen Rechts,” in: Jbb. f. Kultur u. Gesch. d. Slaven, 1926, New Series, No. 2, pp. 201–366. German text of the draft: pp. 359–366; Makarov’s interpretation of the articles on relations between the state and the Church: pp. 303–306, 344, 314.

[286] M. M. Speransky’s Plan for State Reform. Moscow, 1905. pp. 1–120.

[287] La charte, ed. Th. Schiemann. pp. 19, 51, 55; Vernadsky (1933). pp. 146–148; for the Russian text, see: Historical Collection. Vol. 2. London, 1861; Schilder, N. Emperor Alexander I. St. Petersburg, 1903. Vol. 4. pp. 499–526.

[288] On codification under Nicholas I, see: Vladimirsky-Budanov (1888). pp. 247–250; Vernadsky. Essay (see: bibliography, general literature, b). p. 159.

[289] Code of Laws (1832). Vol. 1. Articles 35–42; see also: Verkhovskaya. The Constitution. 1. pp. 592 ff.

[290] For Karamzin’s “Note,” see: Pypin. The Social Movement in Russia under Alexander I. St. Petersburg, 1900. 3rd ed. pp. 479–534. Karamzin writes that Peter declared himself head of the Church (p. 491).

[291] For Uvarov’s report (1843), see M. O. Gershenzon, The Era of Nicholas I. Moscow, 1910, pp. 115–118, and I. M. Solovyov, Russian Universities in Their Charters and the Memoirs of Contemporaries. Moscow, 1914. Vol. 1. pp. 53–55. See also the German translation: Winkler, M. *Slavische Geisteswelt: Ru?land*. Darmstadt, 1955. pp. 180–184.

[292] Filaret. Collected Opinions. 5. 1. p. 362; cf. pp. 749, 751, and 4. p. 578; idem. Words and Speeches. Second Collection. Moscow, 1861. Vol. 2. p. 252. On the views of the Slavophiles, see, for example: Lebedev, M. “On the Question of the Relationship Between Church and State: Toward a Characterization of Slavophile Trends,” in Pravda Sobornaya, 1906, 6–12; K. Shchebatinsky, “The Slavophiles’ Doctrine on the Relationship Between Church and State,” in *Stranik*, 1912, 4–6, 8.

[293] Katkov, M. N., *On Autocracy and the Constitution*. Moscow, 1905, p. 12; idem, *The Moral and Religious Sanction of Russian Autocracy*. Moscow, 1907, p. 37.

[294] Aksakov, I. S. Collected Works. Moscow, 1886. Vol. 5. p. 142; Aksakov’s sharp criticism of the Office of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod—ibid. Vol. 4. pp. 72–79 (article in the newspaper Moskvich, February 1, 1868).

[295] Rozanov, V. V. On the Presumed Meaning of the Russian Monarchy. St. Petersburg, 1912. p. 48.

[296] Author’s italics. Quoted from: Bohatec, J. *Der Imperialismusgedanke und die Lebensphilosophie Dostojewskis*. Graz; Cologne, 1951. p. 98 (quotation verified against the Russian original. – Ed.).

[297] Pobedonostsev, K. P. The Moscow Collection. St. Petersburg, 1901. p. 15; cf. his speech in Kyiv on the occasion of the 900th anniversary of Christianity in Rus’ (July 15, 1888): Church News. 1888. 3132. Supplement. p. 853.

[298] On the mystical significance of the autocracy of the Russian emperor (tsar), see also: Bishop Theophan (Govorov). Sermons for Solemn Days. Moscow, 1864. p. 259; idem. Exposition of St. Paul the Apostle’s Epistle to the Thessalonians. Moscow, 1895. p. 504; Protopresbyter John Sergiev (of Kronstadt). New Sermons. St. Petersburg, 1908. p. 5.

[299] For example, the manifesto of June 3, 1907 (on the new law regarding elections to the State Duma) states that authority over the people is granted to the emperor by the Lord God, before whom the emperor will be accountable for the fate of the state (Gribovsky, p. 22). See also: Diary of State Secretary A. A. Polovtsev, in: The Red Archive. Vol. 3. pp. 135, 150 (entries from April 12 and May 23, 1902); Kokovtsev, V. Memoirs. Paris, 1933. Vol. 1. p. 238; Oldenburg (see bibliography for § 9). Vol. 1, p. 316.

[300] On this, see: Barsov, Loparev, Maltzew, and Shakhmatoff.

[301] Maltzew. p. 158; for the coronation rites of Ivan IV, see: Barsov. pp. 42–66, 67–90; of Tsar Alexei—pp. 91–97; of Tsar Fyodor—pp. 98–106.

[304] See note 17. Text of the prayer service: PSPiR. 7. Appendix; excerpts are cited in Verkhovsky: Uchreждение. 1. pp. 654–657. Cf.: Smolitsch, I. “Feofan Prokopovies. Dankgebete fur die Selbstherrschaft der Kaiserin Anna Joannovna,” in: Z. f. slav. Phil. 1956. 25.

[305] Maltzew, p. 181; here, in a footnote, there is an unconvincing explanation of Feofan’s behavior. Regarding the fact that the anointing of a tsar or emperor at coronation is not a distinct, eighth sacrament of the Orthodox Church, but merely a solemn act of consecration, see: Nikolsky, K. A Guide to the Study of the Liturgical Order of the Orthodox Church. St. Petersburg, 1900. 6th ed. p. 686. Catherine II, as empress, placed the crown on her own head (Romanovich-Slavatinsky. System. Vol. 1, p. 122); Peter III, who reigned for only six months, was not crowned (Maltzew, p. 192).

[306] Sablukov. Op. cit., p. 1876; Romanovich-Slavatinsky. Op. cit., p. 119.

[307] Maltzew. pp. 27, 29, 30, 39.

[308] Romanovich-Slavatinsky. Op. cit., p. 124.

[309] For example, in foreign policy toward the East, which—especially since the time of Catherine II—regarded the protection of “Orthodox brothers” in the Ottoman Empire as a religious duty of Russia and the Russian tsar. This will be discussed further in Vol. 2; see: Smolitsch, in: OS. 1956, 1958. With regard to domestic policy, it is worth noting the protection of the dominant Church through a ban on proselytizing among other Christian denominations (see Vol. 2). As early as the Military Code of 1716, severe punishments were established for blasphemy, superstition, and other offenses; see also: Code of Laws, vol. 16 (1906 ed.), Articles 62, 66, 67, 70–72.

[310] See: Gribovsky, Palme, Lazarevsky.

[311] Gradovsky. Principles. Vol. 1, p. 151.

[312] Romanovich-Slavatinsky. Op. cit. p. 173; cf., however, the opinion of Vladimirsky-Budanov (1888). p. 235.

[313] Suvorov. Textbook (1908). p. 192; (1913). p. 210; Course. Vol. 1. pp. 131, 141; Vol. 2. p. 103. German Dalton, a pastor of the Reformed Church who spent more than twenty years in St. Petersburg, closely studied living conditions in Russia, knew Pobedonostsev well, and debated with him—including in writing (regarding Russian policy in the Baltic provinces)—offers the following interpretation of the emperor’s position as an Orthodox tsar: “The Russian emperor is not the pope in his Church. Only out of ignorance of the state of affairs can one speak here of Caesaropapism. The tsar does not occupy any rank in the ecclesiastical hierarchy, as the pope does; he does not perform priestly functions, as the pope does, nor does he presume to establish any new doctrines, declaring them infallible by his own authority… From the moment the emperor receives his anointing for the throne in the Moscow Kremlin, he is, for the people, the supreme witness of the Orthodox Church, truly its head, although according to the creed he is considered merely its supreme defender and guardian on earth… The Russian people adhere to this point of view not for any ecclesiastical or political reasons, but exclusively out of religious conviction, even though their leaders exploit it for ecclesiastical and political purposes” (Dalton H. Die russische Kirche. Leipzig, 1892. p. 20).

[314] Suvorov. Course. Vol. 1. p. 364; idem. Textbook (1908). p. 192. M. I. Gorchakov holds a similar view: Ecclesiastical Law. St. Petersburg, 1909. p. 206. Cf.: Verkhovskaya (Constitution, Vol. 1, p. CIX): “The Russian Church as an autonomous, independent institution has not existed since the time of Peter’s reforms, and all matters—including those of faith and worship—are subject to the authority of the secular government.”

[315] Code of Laws. Vol. 1 (1906 ed.). Art. 7, 86; cf. Art. 11, 87, 107.

[316] See, for example, the memoirs of Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky, *The Path of My Life* (Paris, 1947), who was himself a member of the Third State Duma.

[317] Gribovsky. pp. 23, 17–24; Nolde. Essays. Ch. 1.

[318] Suvorov. Textbook (1913). p. 210.

[319] Kazansky. pp. 162, 224, 253 (italics by Kazansky—Ed.).

[320] Palienko, N. I. Fundamental Laws and Forms of Government in Russia. Kharkiv. 1910. pp. 68–70, 55.

[321] Nolde. Op. cit. pp. 65, 181–184; Lazarevsky. pp. 372–374.

[322] Evlogiy Georgievsky. Op. cit. pp. 187, 192, 296. During the Duma debates on the 1910 budget, a speaker from the Social Democratic Party demanded that the budget of the Holy Synod be rejected en bloc [completely, in its entirety (French)] (Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 3. Meeting of February 17, 1910, p. 1639).

[323] Ibid. Session 5. Meetings of March 5 and 12, 1912. pp. 43, 854. See also: Dumets, “The State Duma and Church Life,” in *Church Truth*. Berlin, 1914. p. 21; Verkhovskoy, “Article 65”—ibid. 1913. p. 690.

[324] Temnikovsky. The Situation. pp. 38–40, 70.

[325] Verkhovskoy. The Institution. Vol. 1, p. 595; idem. Essays. pp. 123, 127.

[326] A. V. Kartashov (Church and State. Paris, 1932. p. 11; idem. Orthodoxy in Its Relationship to the Historical Process, in: Orthodox Thought. 6. Paris, 1948. p. 97) wrote that the secular St. Petersburg empire created by Peter was unable to completely break and destroy the deep Orthodox aspiration toward a sacral-historical theocracy. The image of the Russian tsar was, paradoxically, twofold. According to the letter of the law and in his actions, he was at times a secular absolute monarch and at other times a theocratic basileus. But the Church, remaining faithful to the ancient Byzantine rite of anointing for the kingdom, viewed him solely from an Eastern, monistic perspective—as a charismatic biblical king, as the head of the baptized Orthodox people—the New Israel, the New Testament Orthodox theocracy, which, in theory, was meant to encompass all nations. The Church historian reached this conclusion by reexamining all the theories and events of the synodal period from the perspective of the relationship between the state and the Church.

[327] PSZ. 7. No. 4830; cf. § 8. On the Holy Synod in the 18th–19th centuries, see: Barsov. The Holy Synod in Its Past; Dobroklonsky. 4. §§ 11–12; Blagovidov; Suvorov. Textbook (1908). § 69; Chizhevsky.

[328] PSZ. 6. No. 4919; PSPiR. 5. No. 1819.

[330] PSZ. 7. No. 4959; Barsov. Op. cit. pp. 259–283.

[331] Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. Miscellany. p. 1; additionally: Lists of Bishops. 1896.

[333] Barsov. Holy Synod (1896). p. 167; ibid. Collection. 1. p. 2.

[334] PSZ. 16. No. 11942; PSPiR. E. II. 1 (1910). Nos. 141, 142; 1763 staff lists: PSZ. 43. 3. 1763. In 1782, the Holy Synod consisted of only three members. At the end of the 18th century, the title “member of the Holy Synod” was often merely an honorary title, and such individuals were by no means always summoned to St. Petersburg to participate in plenary sessions (Barsov, The Holy Synod, pp. 296–303).

[336] PSZ. 28. No. 21790 (dated June 12, 1805).

[337] Collection. 113. 1. p. 48; Nikanor (Brovkovich). Notes: Russ. Arch. 1906. 2; Savva. Chronicle (see bibliography for Introduction B), especially vol. 7.

[338] Memoirs and Testimonials of Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow, in: Russian Archives 1907. 1. p. 51. However, in the official list of the heir to the throne, he was still referred to as a “member of the Holy Synod” as early as 1853 (The Centenary of the War Ministry: 1802–1902. Imperial Headquarters. History of the Sovereign’s Entourage. The Reign of Emperor Alexander II. St. Petersburg, 1914. Volume of Appendices. p. 10), although this addition is absent from the official title of the Tsarevich (ibid., p. 4).

[339] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 17, 234, 18.

[340] Savva. Chronicle. 7. p. 132; 8. p. 704; Nikanor. Notes, in: Russkiy Arkhiv. 1906. 2–3; 1907. 3; ibid. Letters, in: Russkiy Arkhiv. 1909. 6; ibid. Biographical Materials. 1. (1900); Letters of His Eminence Benjamin, Archbishop of Irkutsk, ed. K. V. Kharlamovich, in: Readings. 1913. 4.

[341] Pavel Lebedev (1827–1892), Exarch of Georgia, was a very authoritative administrator (see § 11). He is frequently mentioned by Savva, 7–8, and Nikanor, in: Russian Archives, 1906, no. 3, pp. 5 ff.

[342] German Osetsky (d. 1895), having participated in the sessions of the Holy Synod from 1886 to 1892, supported Pobedonostsev’s policies; see Nikanor, Savva (ibid.).

[343] Nikanor, in: Russ. Arkh. 1906. 3. p. 5; 1909. 6. p. 235.

[344] Nikanor, in: Russkiy Arkh. 1906. 3. p. 172. Savva writes extensively about Platon Gorodetsky (for example: 8. p. 447, where Platon’s theological views are described). See also: Karasev, M. A Wreath on the Grave of His Eminence Plato, Metropolitan of Kiev and Galicia. St. Petersburg, 1903; this accessible biography (420 pp.) contains many interesting facts from church life. Only Plato’s advanced age and his popularity among the faithful protected him from Pobedonostsev’s wrath.

[345] Savva. 7 (entry dated Jan. 22, 1884); Anthony Khrapovitsky, in: Reviews. 3. p. 191; Evlogiy. pp. 194, 195.

[346] Berdnikov (A Brief Course (1888). p. 158) writes that the Holy Synod possessed legislative authority, but offers no definition of it; Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 75; Suvorov. 1. Textbook (1912). § 81; Verkhovskoy. Institution. Vol. 1, p. 108; ibid. Essays, p. 133. Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky defined legislation concerning church affairs as “the enslavement of the Church” (Reviews. Vol. 3, p. 192).

[347] See below §§ 13–16 and §§ 19–21.

[348] Verkhovskoy. The Constitution. Vol. 1, p. 595; idem. Essays. Vol. 1, p. 121. Cf.: Ivanovsky. Textbook on Public Law. Kazan, 1914. 4th ed., p. 311.

[349] The Third State Duma had 440 members. By religious affiliation, they formed the following groups: Orthodox and Old Believers (combined) 382, Catholics—25, Lutherans—19, Armenian Gregorians—2, Jews—2, Muslims—10 (Yearbook of the newspaper “Rech” for 1912. St. Petersburg, 1912. p. 126).

[350] Verkhovskoy. The Institution. Vol. 1, p. 595.

[351] Verkhovskoy. Essays. pp. 123, 127.

[352] Collection. 113. Vol. 2. pp. 341–370.

[353] Ibid. 113, Vol. 2, p. 4; “Rules on Auditing” of 1865, in: 2 PSZ, 40, No. 42742; “Rules…” of 1911, in: 3 PSZ, 31, No. 35004.

[354] Barsukov, I. Innokenty, Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna. Moscow, 1883. p. 692.

[355] Collection. 113. 2. pp. 370–383; Savva. Chronicle. 6. pp. 557, 558, 551; 9. p. 495.

[356] PSPiR. 2. No. 596; Berdnikov. A Brief Course (1888). p. 158; Nikolsky. New Ecclesiastical Laws. 2. pp. 8–12, 77–82, 82–97; Kalashnikov (according to the index); Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories of 1883. Art. 280–284, 86; PSPiR. 3. No. 1061; PSZ. 16. No. 12060; 17. No. 12471; 32. No. 26671; Charter of 1883, Articles 47, 48, 92; Excerpts… for the year 1858, p. 15.

[357] Charter of Theological Academies of 1884, Articles 20–22; Charter of Theological Seminaries of 1884, Articles 23, 38; Dobroklonsky, Vol. 4, p. 71; cf. §§ 20–21.

[360] Excommunication from the Church (with or without anathema) is a purely ecclesiastical punishment: Petrovsky, A., “Anathema,” in: PBE. Vol. 1, cols. 679–700. By order of Peter I, Locum Tenens Stefan Yavorsky excommunicated the Ukrainian hetman Mazepa from the Church: PSZ. 4. § 2213, and the Holy Synod excommunicated Stepan Glebov: PSPiR. 1. No. 179 (August 23, 1721). By order of Catherine II, the same was done with regard to Pugachev: PSZ. 20. No. 14233 (January 10, 1775). On the excommunication of Leo Tolstoy from the Church, see Vol. 2 of

[361] Spiritual Regulations. 1. Paragraphs 7, 8, 10, 13; 2. Paragraphs 8, 10, 11, 16; PSPiR. 2. No. 532; Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Articles 215, 225–227; PSZ. 24. No. 18212; 25. No. 18977; 26. No. 18743. On the conclusion and dissolution of marriages: Milasch. pp. 576–648; Zhismann, J. *Das Eherecht der orientalischen Kirche*. Vienna, 1864; M. Gorchakov. On the Sacrament of Marriage. St. Petersburg, 1880; Nechaev (1890). pp. 204–244; Kalashnikov (according to the index); Herman. *Textus selecti*. p. 230; Code of Laws. Vol. 10. Part 1. Chapter 1. See also: Zagorovsky; Zavyalov; Latkin. Textbook (1909). pp. 513–518, 520–524. Cf. § 11.

[362] Gorchakov. The Monastic Order. pp. 195–201; PSZ. 6. No. 3761; PSPiR. 3. No. 994; 2. No. 532; 5. No. 1933; PSZ. 11. Nos. 8543, 8548, 8566; 12. Nos. 9079, 10293; 21. No. 15379 (Church District Charter. Art. 195, 237).

[363] PSZ. 33. No. 26122; 34. No. 26967; 37. Nos. 28562, 28675; Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 276, 277. Cf.: Kalashnikov (by index); Milasch, pp. 459–514.

[364] Especially in: Prav. ob. 1870–1872 (sections “Chronicle” and “Internal News”). The following articles should also be noted: Sushkov, S. P., “The Canonical Structure of Church Administration,” in: Russ. vest. 1870, no. 7; Sokolov, N. K. (see bibliography); ibid. “The Ecclesiastical Court in the First Three Centuries of Christianity,” in: Prav. ob. 1870, 11–12; ibid. “On the Composition of Episcopal Administration”—ibid., 10; ibid. The Basic Principles of Judicial Reform as Applied to the Jurisdiction of the Ecclesiastical Court—ibid. N. K. Sokolov sought to demonstrate the necessity of reforming the ecclesiastical court in the Russian Church. A. F. Lavrov, a professor at the Moscow Theological Academy, on the other hand, defended the traditional forms of ecclesiastical justice in his works: Lavrov, A. F. “A New Question in the Orthodox Russian Church,” in: Pribavleniya. 24 (1871); idem. “Second Apology on the New Question”—ibid.; idem. “Third Apology on the New Question,” in: Moscow Diocesan Gazette. 1872. March. These articles were also published anonymously by the author as a separate book: The Proposed Reform of the Ecclesiastical Court. Vol. 1–2. Moscow, 1873–1874; it was published by the conservative writer N. V. Elagin; see: Prav. ob. 1875. 2. pp. 674–677. Sokolov presented a polemic against Lavrov in his work: A New Question in the Orthodox Russian Church, in: Prav. ob. 1871. 2. *Pravoslavnoe Obozrenie* (*Orthodox Review*), the organ of the White clergy, also published many other articles in support of judicial reform. Archpriest A. V. Gorsky, rector of the Moscow Theological Academy, was a passionate advocate of the reform (more on him below—§ 20–21); see his correspondence with Sokolov († 1874) in the collection: At the Trinity in the Academy. Sergiev Posad, 1914. pp. 405–463. For more on this, see: Runovsky, “Church Legislation,” and especially the article by the same author: “Literature of the 1860s on the Question of the Clergy’s Way of Life,” in: Prav. ob. 1899, no. 4; in addition: Barsov, T. “Proposals for Improvements in Our Church Administration in the Ecclesiastical-Judicial and Administrative Sectors,” in: Christian Readings 1893, no. 1. T. V. Barsov supported Lavrov’s conservative position; even before a heated debate erupted over the judicial reform bill, he published a series of articles in which he sided with Lavrov and the bishops: Barsov, T. V., “On the Ecclesiastical Court,” in: Christian Readings 1870, no. 2; ibid. “On Ecclesiastical Courts in Light of the Proposed Ecclesiastical Judicial Reform”—ibid., 1873, no. 1; idem, “Ecclesiastical Court Proceedings in the Ancient Universal Church”—ibid., 1871. 2. On the position of the bishops who rejected the reform, see: Opinions of the Diocesan Bishops (1874); this position was also reflected in the stance taken by the ecclesiastical consistories: Opinions of the Ecclesiastical Consistories, Vol. 1 (1874); I have been unable to determine whether a second volume of this publication was ever issued. On this controversy and the work of the Consultative Committee, see: Excerpts… for 1870, pp. 262–264; Excerpts… for 1873, pp. 229–242. Two additional specialized studies were published in connection with the reform project: Sokolov, N. K., On the Jurisdiction of the Russian Clergy from the Publication of the Conciliar Code (1649) to Peter the Great (1701). Moscow, 1871; I. S., On the Ecclesiastical Judicial System in Ancient Russia. Moscow, 1874.

[365] He became Archbishop of Lithuania (1886–1890) after he was widowed in 1877 and took monastic vows. Pobedonostsev held Alexei’s conservative views in high regard (Letters. Vol. 1. (1925). p. 348). On Lavrov, see: Zaozersky, N., “Student Memories of A. F. Lavrov,” in: At the Trinity Academy. Moscow, 1914. pp. 637–645; cf.: ibid. p. 225; further: Korsunsky, I. N., “Obituary for Archbishop Alexy,” in: Dushep. Cht. 1891, No. 1; PBE, Vol. 1, col. 534. Lavrov bears primary responsibility for the fact that the judicial reform—which was already in the works and absolutely necessary—was never implemented.

[366] Zaozersky, in: At the Trinity in the Academy. p. 641. Through his activities on the committee, Archbishop Makarii Bulgakov turned the entire episcopate against him: Nikanor. Notes, in: Russian Arch. 1906. 3. p. 23; letters from Professor P. S. Kazansky to A. N. Bakhmeteva, in: At the Trinity in the Academy. p. 580; Savva. Chronicle. 6 (passim).

[367] Berdnikov. “On the Question of Reform,” in: Pravda Soborna, 1906, vol. 3, pp. 176, 181, 197, 199, 207. Subsequently, Berdnikov stated that he fully shared Lavrov’s position.

[368] See the literature cited in note 112. Lavrov opposed the transfer of matrimonial cases to secular courts, which the committee intended to implement (vol. 1), and favored the bishops retaining all administrative and judicial authority (vol. 2)

[369] Nikanor. Notes, in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1906, no. 3, p. 23; Zaozersky. Op. cit., in: At the Trinity in the Academy, p. 641; P. S. Kazansky to A. N. Bakhmeteva—ibid., p. 198.

[370] See: Pavlov. Course on Canon Law (1902). § 53; Suvorov. Textbook (1912), § 69; Berdnikov. A Brief Course (1888). pp. 5–30, 157–165. See also: Milasch; Herman. *De fontibus* (1936). On the development of Russian public law, see the works of Gradovsky, Vladimirsky-Budanov, Romanovich-Slavatinsky, Ivanovsky, and G. Vernadsky (bibliography, general literature in section B and in the Introduction to B).

[371] On the *Kormchaya Kniga*, see: Milasch. 1905. p. 192; Rosenkampf (1829); Herman. pp. 23–33; Berdnikov (1888). pp. 22–28; Pavlov (1902). pp. 115–125; ibid. The Original Slavic-Russian Nomokanon. Kazan, 1869. On the history of the Kormchaya Kniga in Muscovite Rus’, see: Sreznevsky, I. I. A Survey of Ancient Russian Manuscripts of the Kormchaya Kniga. St. Petersburg, 1899 (Collection of the Department of Russian Language and Literature, No. 65); Nechaev (1890). p. 35; Beneshevich, V. The Old Slavonic Kormchaya of the Fourteen Titles Without Commentaries. 1906; the older work has not lost its significance either: Kalachov, D. “On the Significance of the Kormchaya in the System of Ancient Russian Law,” in: Readings. 1847. 3–4.

[372] Milasch. pp. 75–77; Berdnikov. 1888. pp. 13–17.

[373] Milasch. pp. 42–44, 78; Berdnikov. 1888. pp. 15–17; PBE. 8. cols. 326–330, 330–377, 381–383. Russian editions: Book of Rules. 1839; Rules… of the Holy Fathers with Commentaries. 1878; Acts of the Ecumenical Councils Translated into Russian. Kazan, 1859–1873, 1889–1911. Vol. 1–7; Acts of the Nine Local Councils Translated into Russian. Kazan. 1901. 2nd ed.

[374] Milasch. pp. 50–54, 123–131, 690–716; and also: Skvortsov, I. Notes on Ecclesiastical Law. Kyiv, 1848, 1878 (3rd ed.); Ioann Sokolov. A Course in Ecclesiastical Law. St. Petersburg, 1851–1853. Vol. 1–2; Pavlov, A. Nomocanon to the Great Trebnik. Moscow, 1897.

[375] Pavlov. Op. cit.; Milasch. p. 178; Berdnikov. Op. cit. pp. 26–28.

[376] Pavlov. Course (1902). p. 10; Almazov, A. I. The Law Manual for the Russian Trebnik. Moscow, 1897 (with Additions, in: Christian Readings 1902, No. 7).

[377] These sources of law are discussed in the relevant sections.

[378] Parfeny Sopkovsky’s book was last published in 1823.

[379] See note 8 to Introduction B; see also: Kalashnikov (as cited in the index).

[380] Berdnikov. Op. cit. p. 9; Milasch. pp. 47–50. On the practice of divine worship: Golubtsov, A. “Cathedral Officials and the Characteristics of Services According to Them,” in: Readings, 1907, nos. 3–4.

[381] Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. pp. 1–10; Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 1–12.

[382] ODDS. 1. No. 118; PSPiR. 2. No. 511; ODDS. 2. 1. Nos. 424, 611, 663, 665; 2. 2. No. 992; PSZ. 24. No. 18273; 2 PSZ. 9. No. 6844; 14. No. 12069; 34. No. 34527, 35169; 39. No. 40514; 42. No. 45186; 49. No. 51015.

[383] PSPiR. 1. No. 153, 402; 2. No. 448, 526; 5. No. 1937; ODDs. 2. 1. No. 283; 6. No. 30.

[384] PSPiR. 2. No. 448; 5. No. 1730, 1951; ODDs. 2. 1. No. 283; 6. No. 229.

[385] PSPiR. 2. No. 448, 534, 901, 885; ODDS. 2. 1. No. 480.

[386] ODDS. 1. No. 586; PSPiR. 2. No. 693, 508; 4. No. 1265; PSZ. 10. No. 7558; PSPiR. 3. No. 1041; 5. No. 1496; PSZ. 6. No. 3954; 9. No. 6718, 16. No. 11842, 11959; cf.: Rozanov. 1. p. 19.

[387] PSZ. 4. No. 1829, 1834; cf.: Gorchakov. The Monastic Order. pp. 246, 250; PSPiR. 1. No. 133, 257; 4. No. 1374, 1379, 1486; 5. No. 1819, 1743; PSZ. 10. No. 7538; 15. No. 11461; 14. No. 10765; 16. No. 11643, 11716, 11814, 12060; see § 10 below.

[388] PSZ. 32. No. 25709; 34. No. 26836, 26859; 35. No. 27605; 2 PSZ. 19. No. 11875; Collection. 113. 1. pp. 168–173; cf.: Barsov. Collection of Current Decrees. pp. 70–80.

[389] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 214–217; 2 PSZ. 9. No. 7178; 11. No. 9705; 14. Nos. 12069, 12071; 39. No. 40771; 41. No. 45186; 47. No. 51015; Barsov. Op. cit. pp. 27–54.

[390] PSZ. 30. No. 23122, 23124, 23207; 2 PSZ. 14. No. 12070; 42. No. 44570; 46. No. 49657; 48. No. 52081; 51. No. 55951.

[391] Nechaev (1890). p. 53; Chizhevsky (1898). p. 4; Runkevich. The Russian Church in the 19th Century. p. 693; Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 83; 3 PSZ. 33. No. 39612; Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 2. p. 2009 (July 14, 1909).

[392] PSZ. 6. No. 3765; PSPiR. 1. No. 98; 11. No. 8832; Chizhevsky (1898). p. 5; Barsov. Collection of Current… pp. 80–90; on various commissions from 1909 to 1912 and the draft laws they prepared, see: Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 4. pp. 2602, 2607, 2629 (February 23, 1911); ibid. 4th Convocation. Session 4 (February 25, 1916).

[393] Collection of Materials Relating to the Archival Sector of Russia. St. Petersburg, 1916. pp. 296–311. Cf.: Introduction by B.

[394] Zavyalov. The Question of Church Estates under Empress Catherine II. St. Petersburg, 1900. pp. 155–157.

[395] On the issue of the structure of church administration prior to 1700, see the literature cited in § 10, primarily the works of Gorchakov, Shimko, Zavyalov, and Dobroklonsky (2–3). On the staffing of the Holy Synod, see § 4; cf.: Zavyalov, p. 159. The 1722 budget was the first attempt to establish a state budget. It was not until 1862 that a coordinated budget proposal—the “State Budget”—was prepared for the first time; see: State Budget, in: ES. 53. 108. On the state funding of the Holy Synod in 1721–1764, see: Zavyalov, pp. 162–189. During the reign of Catherine II, the Holy Synod was subsidized by the Collegium of Economy through the Ober-Procurator. From 1774, after Ober-Procurator Chebyshev committed financial abuses, funds began to be transferred directly to the Synod. However, beginning in 1781, the funds intended for the church budget were once again received by the Ober-Procurator from the state treasury (Blagovidov. 1899. p. 253).

[397] Ibid. pp. 268, 308. Cf. § 10 below.

[399] In 1826, 671,237 rubles were allocated from the treasury for the needs of the Church, of which 85,357 rubles were for the maintenance of the parish clergy; in 1850, the amount had already reached 3,804,299 rubles, of which 2,647,330 rubles went toward the maintenance of the parish clergy; see: The Most Humble Report of the Chief Prosecutor for 1825–1850, in: Collection No. 98. p. 459; cf.: Russia, ed. ES, St. Petersburg, 1901, p. 201. In addition, we use the relevant Reports of the Chief Prosecutor and the “List” in the PSZ; for 1840–1890—Preobrazhensky (bibliography in B.’s Introduction)

[400] Excerpts… for 1870; Military-Statistical Collection. 4. p. 764; 3 PSZ. 3. No. 1933 (List. pp. 244, 305); Report… for 1901.

[401] 3 PSZ. 30. Appendix. pp. 239, 265; 33. Section 2. p. 161; Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 4th Convocation. Session 4. pp. 2379–2380 (February 26, 1916); cf.: ibid. p. 44 (March 5, 1912). See Table 3.

[402] Collection. 98. p. 459; cf.: Chizhevsky (1898). p. 342. In 1870, the total capital of the Holy Synod amounted to 18,860,000 rubles, yielding 4,763,000 rubles annually in interest. Revenue from the sale of candles, amounting to 1,396,000 rubles, was spent on the maintenance of theological schools; interest on the school capital amounted to 943,000 rubles in 1870 (Military-Statistical Collection, Vol. 4, p. 817).

[404] Zavyalov, pp. 175–183; Collection, vol. 98, p. 459; cf. tables.

[405] PSZ. 6. No. 3746; 30. No. 23254; 31. Nos. 24419, 24900; 38. No. 28396; Kalashnikov. p. 407; Report… for 1906–1907 and 1914 (statements); Chizhevsky. Op. cit. p. 339; Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. pp. 382–386.

[406] Collection. 98. p. 459; Chizhevsky. Op. cit. pp. 358–363; cf. Table 3.

[407] Reports… for 1898 and 1907 (statements); cf. Table 3. Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 106, 126, 127; Code of Laws (1876). Vol. 9. Art. 405; Vol. 10. Art. 1711; Chizhevsky. Op. cit. p. 342.

[409] Report for… 1907 (financial statements); Report… for 1908–1909 or for 1911–1912, where these revenues are steadily increasing. See Table 3.

[410] See: Evlogii. The Path of My Life. p. 193. The decision of the State Council dated April 24, 1884, was very important for the growth of the Synod’s capital. (3 PSZ. 4. No. 2173), stipulating that all sums not spent by the Holy Synod by the time the budget for the following year was drawn up were to be added to its capital; all other government agencies were required to carry these sums over to their budgets for the following year.

[411] Verkhovskoy. Essays. 1912. p. 124.

[412] The following works are important for the history of the Holy Synod’s Office of the Chief Prosecutor: Blagovidov; Barsov, *Synodal Institutions*; Verkhovskoy, *The Institution*, Vol. 1; for the period of Nicholas I, see the materials in: *Collection*, No. 113, Vol. 1–2. For a general overview, see: Dobroklonsky, Vol. 4, pp. 85–87.

[413] PSZ, vol. 6, no. 4001; PSPiR, vol. 2, nos. 609, 680, 705; ODDs, vol. 2, part 1, no. 734; PSZ, vol. 6, no. 4036. As early as the 17th century, a boyar of the sovereign held a seat in the Patriarchal Council, but only to discuss matters concerning both the interests of the state and the Church (for example, disputes between secular and ecclesiastical figures). On this, see: Kapterev, N. F. Secular Archiepiscopal Officials. Moscow, 1874. p. 207; cf.: Blagovidov (1899), p. 30. On the duties and rights of the General Prosecutor of the Senate, see: Petrovsky, op. cit., pp. 178, 96; also: Minutes of the Supreme Secret Council, in: Collection, vol. 55, p. 384. For the terms of office of individual Chief Prosecutors of the 18th century, see: Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. pp. 23–25. Cf. Table 4.

[414] Blagovidov. Op. cit. p. 99; Golubev. Internal Life (bibliography for § 8). p. 278.

[415] Blagovidov (1900). pp. 134, 165–171. On Shakhovsky’s conflicts with the Holy Synod, see his “Notes” (1872). p. 52 ff.; see also: Verkhovskaya (1909) (bibliography for § 10). pp. 268–271. On Shakhovsky, see: Korsakov, B. Ya. P. Shakhovsky, in: RBS (Chaadaev-Shvytkov) (1905). On the activities of Amvrosy Yushkevich, see: Popov, Arseny Matseevich (1912). p. 53; cf.: Solovyov, Vol. 4 (“Public Benefit”). pp. 45, 119, 145.

[416] Collection. 7. pp. 316, 317–318 (instructions to Potemkin) (also in PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. No. 139). On Potemkin’s close ties with the bishops, see: Titlinov, B. Gavriil Petrov. 1916 (bibliography for § 8). Pp. 45, 295; cf. pp. 293–393, 408–424 (on the chief prosecutors under Catherine II). Potemkin’s letters to various bishops: Russ. Arkh. 1879. 3. In 1791, Potemkin composed a canon to the Savior (Russian Archives 1881. 2. p. 17).

[417] Vinogradov, V. “Platon and Filaret, Metropolitans of Moscow,” in: BV. 1913. 2. p. 332; PSPiR. Vol. II. 1, No. 127. I. I. Melissino is known for his proposal (“Points”), which he submitted to the Holy Synod, suggesting various Protestant-style innovations in church life; see the “Points” in: Readings, 1871, vol. 3, pp. 114–121. Cf.: Titlinov. Op. cit. pp. 298, 303–306. Chief Prosecutor Chebyshev publicly declared: “There is no God”: Titlinov, B. “Metropolitan Platon of Moscow,” in: Christian Readings 1912, no. 11. p. 1210. Catherine II’s decree of February 3, 1763 (PSZ, vol. 16, No. 11746) stipulated that the Holy Synod was also obliged to obey the Empress’s verbal orders, conveyed through the Chief Prosecutor.

[418] Blagovidov (1899). pp. 297–300; Klochkov. Essays on Governmental Activities During the Reign of Paul I. St. Petersburg, 1916. p. 282.

[419] Yakovlev’s Journal. pp. 87–112.

[420] Ibid. pp. 88, 92, 95, 100, 97.

[421] On Golitsyn: Rozhdestvensky, S. V. A Historical Overview of the Activities of the Ministry of Public Education: 1802–1902. St. Petersburg, 1902. pp. 105–113; Steletsky; Goetze; cf. Florovsky’s characterization of Golitsyn. p. 132; see §§ 8 and 9 below.

[422] Runkiewicz. The Russian Church in the 19th Century (bibliography for Introduction B). p. 540.

[423] PSZ. 34. No. 27106; Rozhdestvensky. Op. cit. pp. 110–113.

[424] Author’s italics. PSZ. 34. No. 27106. On the relations between the Senate and the Minister of Justice, see: Vladimirsky-Budanov. Review (1888). p. 235; Vernadsky, G. Essay (bibliography, general literature b). pp. 67–70.

[425] Rozhdestvensky. Op. cit. pp. 110–113; Runkevich. Op. cit. pp. 550–552; Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 86.

[426] Quoted in Florovsky. p. 134.

[427] Florovsky. p. 152. On Mikhail Desnitsky: Historical and Statistical. St. Petersburg. Vol. 8. St. Petersburg, 1878. p. 25; Chistovich, I. Leading Figures in Religious Education in Russia in the First Half of the Current Century: Commission on Religious Schools. St. Petersburg, 1894. pp. 114–116, 189–211; Runkevich. The Alexander Nevsky Lavra: 1713–1913, St. Petersburg, 1913. pp. 847–852.

[428] On Seraphim Glagolevsky, see: Collection. 113. 1. pp. 19–27, 2–4; Historical and Statistical Gazetteer of St. Petersburg. 8. p. 33. Cf. § 9 below.

[429] PSZ. 39. Nos. 29914, 30037. Many years later, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov asserted in a letter to A. N. Muravyov that the extremely reactionary M. L. Magnitsky played a crucial role in Golitsyn’s downfall; according to Filaret, it was he who persuaded Metropolitan Seraphim to go to the emperor with a request to remove Golitsyn (Filaret. Letter to A. N. Muravyov. Kyiv, 1869. p. 507).

[430] Author’s italics. PSZ. 34. No. 30037; Blagovidov (1900). p. 449.

[431] Rostislavov, D. “The St. Petersburg Theological Academy under Count Protasov,” in: VE. 1883. 7. p. 124; Collection. 113. 1. p. 152.

[432] Collection. 113. 1. p. 154; cf. letters from Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov to Nechayev, in: Starina i Novizna. 9 (1905) and Russkiy Arkhiv. 1893. 1, especially p. 42.

[433] Rostislavov. Op. cit., p. 125.

[434] 2 PSZ. 10. Nos. 8001, 8007; cf. 14. No. 12068; Code of Laws. 1 (1857). 1. Section 1, Art. 55, Note; Vol. 1, No. 2 (Establishment of the State Council), Art. 38; Vol. 1, No. 1 (Establishment of the Committee of Ministers), Art. 5. Note: However, in the 1915 edition of the “Establishment of the State Council” (Code of Laws, Vol. 1, No. 2, 1906 ed.), Article 35 states that “ministers and chief administrators” have the right to vote in the State Council only if they are members of it. See also: PSZ. 32. No. 25043. Art. 27; 2 PSZ. 10. No. 8007; 14. No. 12068; 17. No. 15518; 7. No. 4551.

[435] Chistovich. Leading Figures. p. 315.

[436] On Protasov, see: Collection. 113. 1. p. 155 ff.; Blagovidov (1900). p. 417 ff.; Runkevich. Op. cit. p. 610. Filaret Drozdov’s opinion on Protasov: Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 213, 260.

[437] Collection. 113. pp. 155, 171, 233, 155–171; Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. 1. pp. 11–16, 16–21, 27–54 (on new positions).

[439] See: Rostislavov, in: VE. 1883. 7.

[440] Collection. 113. Vol. 1, pp. 155–171; Vol. 2, pp. 4, 341–370.

[441] Porphyry Uspensky. The Book of My Life. Vol. 7. St. Petersburg, 1901. p. 13.

[442] A. I. Karasevsky first headed the Commission on Theological Schools (1832–1839) and then held the same position in the new Theological Education Administration (1839–1855): RBS (Ibak-Klyucharev). p. 516.

[443] Nikanor (Brovkovich). Biographical Materials. Vol. 1. Odessa, 1900. p. 48. On A. Tolstoy’s “Optina (i.e., in the sense of the Optina elders. – I. S.) piety,” see the letter from N. P. Gilyarov-Platonov to A. V. Gorsky: Russkiy Obozreniye, 1896, no. 12, p. 996.

[444] Runkiewicz. Op. cit., p. 676; cf.: Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. p. 239.

[445] Savva. Chronicle. Vol. 5, pp. 564, 576, 878; for Isidor’s opinion, see: Bogdanovich, A. V. The Last Three Autocrats: Diary (1878–1912). Moscow, 1924. p. 97; cf.: Meshchersky, V. P., My Memoirs, vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1896, p. 469; vol. 3, 1912, pp. 93–107.

[447] 2 PSZ. 39. Nos. 40972, 42772. See also §§ 13–16.

[448] For Pobedonostsev, see the bibliography for this paragraph. Dobroklonsky (4, p. 86) wrote in 1893: “Now the Chief Prosecutor is, as it were, the minister of ecclesiastical affairs.” For a biographical sketch of Pobedonostsev, see: “The Fiftieth Anniversary,” in: Ist. v. 1896, no. 9. See also: Milyutin, D., Diary, vol. 1. Moscow, 1947, p. 111.

[449] Letters. Vol. 2. pp. 4, 5, 11, 13.

[452] Pobedonostsev’s articles in *The Moscow Collection* (1901, 5th ed.) are important for characterizing his worldview; see, for example, pp. 2, 4, 10, 14, 24. See the interesting remarks on this subject by such a remarkable observer as A. F. Koni: *On the Path of Life*. Vol. 3. Berlin, 1922. p. 485.

[453] Florovsky. p. 412. This negative attitude toward any innovations in domestic policy is particularly evident in his famous speech of March 8, 1881, against the constitution that Alexander II had already signed. See on this: Milyutin. Diary. Vol. 4. Moscow, 1950. p. 35; cf.: Meshchersky. Op. cit. Vol. 3. pp. 333–338.

[454] Nikanor. Notes, in: Russian Archives. 1906. Vol. 3. p. 36. Savva (Chronicle, vols. 7–9) has published many of Pobedonostsev’s letters; the “Correspondence between N. I. Subbotin and K. P. Pobedonostsev” (Moscow, 1915) also provides extensive material for characterizing Pobedonostsev’s views.

[455] Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich writes that this new trend consisted in “the revival of the Russian spirit, the religious spirit” (ibid.).—Ed.

[457] Evlogii. The Path of My Life. Paris, 1947. p. 166.

[458] Savva. Chronicle. 9. p. 462 (dated January 26, 1896).

[459] Dalton. Memoirs. Vol. 3. Berlin, 1908. p. 96; cf. pp. 94–100, 136. The American ambassador to St. Petersburg, Andreas D. White, was quite well acquainted with Pobedonostsev; he often visited him in the evenings and had long conversations with him. White describes Pobedonostsev as “a very intelligent, educated man” (White, A. D., *From My Diplomatic Life*. Leipzig, 1906. pp. 186–200, 189, 270).

[460] Pobedonostsev himself, in one of his letters to Emperor Nicholas II (March 21, 1901: Letters. Vol. 2. pp. 330–335), described his activities as a struggle against any reformist plans. After his dismissal, Pobedonostsev wrote to Evlogii Georgievsky, then Bishop of Lublin: “The situation has become unbearable… Wolves have appeared within the Russian Church itself, showing no mercy to the sheep. A dark time has come, the reign of darkness, and I am leaving” (Evlogii. Op. cit., p. 166).

[461] Witte. Memoirs: The Reign of Emperor Nicholas II. Vol. 1. Berlin, 1923. p. 244. On Izvolsky, see also: Volkonsky, S., My Wanderings, Vol. 3, pp. 63–65. In exile, Izvolsky became a priest in Brussels, where he died in 1928. Evlogii frequently mentions him in *The Path of My Life*. In the work of A. Bogdanovich—which is not without bias—we read: “Everyone was outraged by the appointment of Izvolsky, who could not tell the difference between a memorial service and a prayer service. Even his mother was surprised” (The Last Three Autocrats, p. 408).

[462] D. Filosofov, “Church Affairs,” in: *Yearbook of the *Rech* Newspaper for 1912*. St. Petersburg, 1912. pp. 295–317. Lukyanov was a doctor of medicine; he is known as the author of a book about Vladimir Solovyov.

[463] For a brief biography of Sabler, see: Correspondence of N. I. Subbotin. p. 308; cf.: The Fall of the Tsarist Regime. Vol. 7. pp. 66–68, 413; see also § 9 below.

[464] Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. 84th Session. p. 76; cf. the speeches by V. N. Lvov and others in the same volume (pp. 55–77). D. Filosofov, “Church Affairs,” in: Annual of the newspaper “Rech” for 1913, pp. 334–350; the same author, in: Annual… for 1914, pp. 284–307; B. Titlinov, The Church During the Revolution. Petrograd, 1924. pp. 20, 29–41, 46–52. In general, this last book is quite biased. After 1918, Titlinov, who had previously been a professor at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, supported the “Living Church” in many of his works; see his book: The New Church. Petrograd, 1923. Titlinov’s activities during the Local Council of 1917–1918 will be discussed in Vol. 2.

[465] There is obvious confusion in the German text regarding the activities of the Pre-Council Presidium and the Pre-Council Conference: the former operated until December 1906, while the latter was dissolved in April 1913.—Ed.

[466] Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 4. Meeting 64 (February 23, 1911). pp. 2602, 2607, 2629 (speech by E. P. Kovalevsky); cf. the statement by Chief Prosecutor A. N. Volzhin on February 25, 1916: Stenographic Report of the State Duma of the 4th Convocation. Session 4. Meeting 26. p. 2173.

[467] Filosofov, “Church Affairs,” in: Yearbook… for 1912. p. 205; cf. pp. 105, 111.

[468] Numerous memoirs about this period are not always reliable; see § 9 below. One must be especially cautious regarding the book *Memoirs* by Comrade Chief Prosecutor Prince N. D. Zhevakhov. Munich, 1923 (he held this position from September 15, 1916, to March 3, 1917). On Zhevakhov, see: Shavelsky, G., *Memoirs*. 2 vols. New York, 1954; this work also contains much information on the Chief Prosecutors of the wartime period: pp. 367–392.

[469] Evlogiy. Op. cit., pp. 233–235. Samarin was forced to resign from his post due to his feud with Rasputin: Correspondence of Nicholas and Alexandra Romanov, vol. 3, pp. 215–220; 5. p. 286, etc.; cf. § 9, as well as the memoirs of A. N. Naumov: From the Surviving Memoirs. 2. New York, 1956. pp. 4, 298, 306. Under Volzhin, a new format for reports to the tsar was introduced: the Chief Prosecutor would present them in the presence of the senior member of the Holy Synod, Verkhovskaya. 1. p. 605. On Volzhin, see: Correspondence of Nicholas. 3. pp. 392, 398, 401, 407, etc.; 4 (in many places). On Raev, see: Rodzianko. Memoirs. Berlin, 1926. p. 177; Nicholas’s Correspondence. 3 and 4 (in many places).

[470] Kartashov, A. “The Revolution and the Council of 1917–1918,” in: Orthodox Thought. Paris, 1942. pp. 78, 86; Milyukov, P. N. Essays (Bibliography, General Literature). Vol. 2, No. 1. p. 221. For a very interesting characterization of V. N. Lvov, see Naumov: op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 58 ff.

[471] Kartashov. Op. cit.; idem. “The Provisional Government and the Russian Church,” in: Contemporary Notes. 52 (Paris, 1934); German versions: “Die Provisorische Regierung und die Russische Kirche,” in: Orient und Occident. 1934. 15.

[472] Nolde, B. E. Essays on Russian Constitutional Law. St. Petersburg, 1911. p. 168.

[473] This wording is contained in § 9 of the Instructions to the Chief Prosecutor (PSZ, vol. 7, no. 4036).

[474] Kapterev, N. Secular Episcopal Officials. Moscow, 1874. p. 207.

[475] 2 PSZ. 40. No. 43772. Art. 1.

[476] Seredonin. A Historical Sketch of the Activities of the Committee of Ministers. Vol. 3. St. Petersburg, 1903. p. 6.

[477] 3 PSZ. 24. No. 25486. Art. 1.

[478] Collection. 113. 1. p. 157. Verkhovskaya (Essays, p. 132) believes that the establishment of the Dual Ministry created the conditions for the transformation of the Chief Prosecutor into a powerful minister.

[479] Bishop Nicodemus of Yenisei. “On the Holy Synod,” in: BV. 1905. 10. p. 210. Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky wrote in 1906: “If, however, the Chief Prosecutor disagrees with the resolutions of the Holy Synod, then the minutes of the latter are destroyed and rewritten” (Reviews. 3. p. 191). Regarding the scope of the Chief Prosecutor’s authority, he goes on to write: “Thus, there is a sole ruler of the Russian Church, and one who is far more powerful than the patriarch, who is always limited by the Council of Bishops.”

[480] Trubetskoy, G. “Russia and the Ecumenical Patriarchate after the Crimean War, 1856–1860,” in: VE. 1902. 5. p. 41.

[481] On the domestic political situation after the death of Peter I and up to the time of Catherine II, see: Platonov. Lectures; Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich; Sakharov, in: Stranik. 1882; Voznesensky. The Noble Reaction after the Death of Peter the Great, in: Russkoye Proshlye. 2 (1923); Titlinov. The Government of Anna Ioannovna; Stroev. The Biron Era; Korsakov. The Accession of Anna Ioannovna; Dityatin. Supreme Power; Latkin. Textbook (1909). In addition: Solovyov. Vol. 19–29; Stahlin. Geschichte Ru?lands. 2. “In the 18th century, Russia was, in the full sense of the word, a police state (Polizeistaat), primarily due to the reforms of Peter I, who reshaped Old Russian state and social life after the model of Western European states” (Latkin. Textbook. p. 432).

[482] Platonov. Lectures. pp. 543, 562. Cf. Table 1.

[483] Florovsky. pp. 89, 90. On Feodosy Yanovsky: Titlinov, in: RBS; Chistovich. Feofan Prokopovich; Moroshkin, in: Russkaya Istoriya, 1887; on the “case” of Feodosy Yanovsky, see: Russkaya Arkhivnaya Gazeta, 1864, No. 2; ODDS. 5. No. 125. Supplement 2. p. 25; on his criticism of Peter I and the latter’s measures regarding church estates: Chistovich. Op. cit. p. 148; Theodosius very rarely attended Synod meetings and avoided signing the minutes: Runkiewicz. History of the Russian Church (see references for §§ 2–4). Vol. 1, pp. 147, 167. See also: Runkevich, Alex. – Nevskaya Lavra. St. Petersburg, 1913, which contains a wealth of material on Theodosius.

[484] Schtscherbatow. On Moral Decay. p. 35.

[485] See note 230; also: PSZ. 4. No. 4717; PSPiR. 5. No. 1542; ODDs. 5. No. 199; Esipov. “Monk Fedos,” in: People of the Old Era. St. Petersburg, 1880; Solovyov. 18. p. 315.

[486] Chistovich. Georgy Dashkov, in: Prav. ob. 1863. 1. p. 45; Korsakov. The Accession of Anna Ioannovna. pp. 55–57; cf.: Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich. pp. 185, 229, 247, etc.; Zakharov. The Old Russian Party; Moroshkin. Theophylact Lopatinsky.

[487] Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich. pp. 185, 225, 392; Solovyov, N. “The Saray and Krutitsy Dioceses,” in: Readings. 1894. Vol. 3. pp. 105, 109 (on the biography of Ignatius).

[488] Pavlov-Silvansky, N. “The Opinion of the Highest Officials on the Reforms of Peter the Great,” in: Works. Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1910. pp. 373–401.

[489] PSZ. 7. No. 4830; cf. PSPiR. 5. No. 1469 (Catherine I’s decree on her autocratic power dated January 28, 1725), 4919, 4925. On the subordination of the Holy Synod to the new body, see: Minutes, in: Collection. 55. p. 97. Art. 13; Barsov. The Holy Synod. p. 432. On the appointment of new members of the Synod by the Supreme Privy Council, see: Collection. 55. pp. 384, 481, 428; 63. pp. 481, 509, 793; ODDs. 7. Nos. 105, 107, 262; PSZ. 7. No. 5034.

[490] The Case of Theophan Prokopovich, in: Readings. 1862. 1. pp. 1–92; Chistovich. The Case of Markell Rodychevsky, in: Prav. ob. 1864. 9. pp. 9–48; ibid. Feofan Prokopovich. Chapters 10–12. For Markell’s critique of the “Spiritual Regulations” and his accusations against Feofan, see: Verkhovskaya. 2. pp. 85 ff.

[491] Chistovich, in: Prav. ob. 1864. 9; Solovyov. 4 (Public Benefit). Cols. 1096, 1191. On the publication of *The Stone of Faith*: Collection. 69. pp. 709; PSPiR. 7. No. 2073, 2278, 2259. On the question of restoring the patriarchate: the “Rite of Episcopal Ordination,” published in 1719, states: “When the Lord God deems it fitting for our most holy patriarch, chosen by the entire Holy Synod, to sit upon the All-Russian throne” (Pekarsky. 2. p. 444). Peter II ordered the members of the Synod to return all valuable vestments which, with Peter I’s permission, they had taken for themselves in 1721 from the patriarch’s sacristy (PSPiR. 7. No. 2644).

[492] On the plans of the Verkhovniki to limit autocracy, see: Korsakov, The Accession; Milyukov, P. N., “The Verkhovniki and the Nobility,” in: From the History of the Russian Intelligentsia. St. Petersburg, 1902. pp. 1–51; Zagoskin, N. “The Verkhovniki and the Nobility,” in: Scientific Proceedings of Kazan University, 1880, 5, 6; Recke, W. “The Constitutional Plans of the Russian Oligarchs in 1730 and the Accession of Empress Anna Ivanovna,” in: ZOG. 1912. 2. pp. 11–64, 161–203; Fleischhacker, H. “1730: The Aftermath of the Petrine Reform,” in: JGO. 6. 1941. pp. 201–274. Additionally: Titlinov, The Government of Anna Ivanovna.

[493] Oloviev. 4 (Public Benefit). Cols. 1165, 1188; Notes by Metropolitan Gabriel Petrov, in: Readings. 1913. 3. Miscellany. p. 5. See: Smolitsch, I. Feofan Prokopovies. “Dankgebete fur die Selbstherrschaft der Kaiserin Anna Ioannovna,” in: ZSP. 1956. 25, which also includes the publication of Feofan’s ode. For a facsimile of the “conditions” torn up by Anna, see: The Centennial of the Ministry of War. Vol. 2: History of the Sovereign’s Entourage. St. Petersburg, 1914. p. 101. Manifesto of February 29, 1730, on Anna’s autocracy, in: PSZ. 8. No. 5509.

[494] Platonov. Lectures. p. 553; cf.: Solovyov. 4 (Public Welfare). col. 1169. On Anna’s biography: Titlinov, in: RBS; on Biron’s influence on the Empress: Manstein’s Memoirs, 1727–1744. St. Petersburg, 1875. p. 181 ff.; Memoirs of Field Marshal Minich. St. Petersburg, 1874. p. 62 ff.

[495] Vedenyapin, in: Pravda Obraztsova, 1865, No. 2, p. 73.

[496] Shcherbatov. “On the Corruption of Morals in Russia,” in: Russian Articles, 1870. Vol. 7. p. 50.

[497] Stroev. The Biron Era. p. 40. Cf. also the description of the era of Anna in Empress Elizabeth’s manifesto: PSZ. 11. No. 8506.

[498] PSZ. 8. No. 5871; the Supreme Privy Council had already been dissolved on March 4, 1730: PSZ. 8. No. 5510; PSPiR. 7. No. 2299.

[499] For Karamzin’s “Memorandum,” see: Pypin. The Social Movement (1909). 3rd ed. Appendix. p. 493; PSPiR. 7. No. 2505, 2531; cf. No. 2324, 2518, 2293, 2296, 2298. See: Titlinov. The Government of Anna Ioannovna. pp. 5, 45, 51; Barsov. Holy Synod. p. 277. On the Cabinet of Ministers and Osterman’s role: The Eighteenth Century. 3. p. 87 (Duke de Liria, Spanish envoy); Collection. 5. pp. 437, 448 (Lefort); Gradovsky, A. The Higher Administration of Russia in the 18th Century and the Prosecutor General. St. Petersburg, 1866. pp. 146–160; Shcheglov, V. The State Council in Russia. Yaroslavl, 1902. pp. 609–625. Filippov, A. “New Data on the Cabinet of Ministers of Empress Anna Ioannovna,” in: Russkiy Mir, 1901, Nos. 1, 4, 12; cf. Filippov’s “Introduction,” in: Collection 104 (Documents of the Cabinet of Ministers, 1731–1740).

[501] Popov, N. “Court Preachers during the Reign of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna,” in: Tikhonravov, *Chronicles of Russian Literature*, vol. 2, p. 9.

[502] Ibid. p. 5; Dimitri Sechenov’s sermon—ibid. pp. 12–14; Titlinov. The Government. Ch. 1.

[503] Monuments of Russian History, ed. Kashpirov. Vol. 3. St. Petersburg, 1873. p. 261. On Ostermann: Bitter, K. “Beiträge zur Geschichte des Lebens und Wirkens Heinrich Johann Friedrich (Andrej Ivanovie) Ostermanns,” in: JGO. 1957. 5 (bibliography); Shubinsky, S. Count A. I. Osterman. St. Petersburg, 1862; cf. the characterization of Osterman in: PSZ. 11. No. 8506.

[505] Verkhovskoy. The Institution. 1. p. XXXI; Pekarsky. 1. p. 502; Avramov’s memorandum, in: Pososhkov. Works. 2. St. Petersburg, 1863; Shishkin, I. Mikhail Avramov, One of the Opponents of Peter’s Reform, in: Nevsky Collection. 1. St. Petersburg, 1867. pp. 379–429; Chistovich. Feofan Prokopovich. pp. 260–269, 273, 297.

[506] PSPiR. 7. Nos. 2324, 2325; Titlinov. Op. cit. pp. 41, 51; ODDs. 10. No. 200; PSPiR. 7. No. 2355. Cf. PSZ. 8. No. 5518; Russ. Arkh. 1909. 3. p. 430.

[507] Chistovich, Feofan Prokopovich. pp. 348, 295. Cf. Pekarsky’s similar assessment: 1, p. 484, and Florovsky’s negative characterization of Feofan: p. 89.

[508] The Case of Lev Yurlov, in: Readings. 1861. 4. Miscellany; PSPiR. 7. Nos. 2340, 2352; on Gorgii Dashkov: ibid. Nos. 2276, 2296, 2382, 2385, 2388, 2411, 2513, 2516; Chistovich, in: Prav. ob. 1863. 1; ibid. Feofan Prokopovich. pp. 183, 229, 239; on Ignatius Smole: PSPiR. 7. Nos. 2385, 2388, 2411. Note 2558.

[509] PSPiR, vol. 7, No. 1475; Titlinov, *The Government*, pp. 126, 136; ODDs, vol. 10, No. 273; PSPiR, vol. 7, Nos. 2561, 2575, 2640; Rybalovsky, A. Varlaam Vanatovich, in: TKDA. 1908. 9. pp. 313, 319–340.

[510] Chistovich, Feofan Prokopovich. pp. 316–326; “The Case of Feofan,” in: Readings. 1862. 1; Verkhovskoy. The Institution. 2; on Platon Malinovsky: Solovyov, N. The Saray and Krutitsy Dioceses, in: Readings. 1894. 3. pp. 111, 114 ff.

[511] Chistovich. “New Materials,” in: Prav. ob. 1862. 2. p. 184; 4. pp. 542–546; ibid. Theophan Prokopovich. pp. 463–468, 485, 654, 670, 499, 675; Moroshkin. Theophylact of Lopatinsky; Titlinov. The Government. Ch. 2

[512] In 1733, Archbishop Herodion Zhurakovsky of Chernigov was deposed; Bishop Dosifei Bogdanovich-Lyubinsky of Belgorod was put on trial and, in 1735, exiled to a monastery; Archbishop Ilarion Rogalevsky of Chernihiv was arrested in 1737 and retired in 1738 for making critical remarks in a memorandum sent to the Holy Synod. See: PBE. 5. Col. 1047; Filaret. Obzor. 2 (1884). p. 299; ibid. Description of the Chernihiv Diocese. Chernihiv, 1861. pp. 68–78; PSPiR. 7. Nos. 2564, 2471; ODDS. 7. No. 630; TKDA. 1860. 2. pp. 259–263; RBS (Dabelov-Dyadkovsky). 1905. p. 604; cf.: Titlinov. Government. Ch. 2.

[513] PSZ. 10. Nos. 7364, 7790; 11. No. 8199; Popov, Arseny Maceevich. p. 51. The notorious Secret Chancellery had already been established on April 6, 1731: PSZ. 8. No. 5738, 5744; 9. No. 6937, 6832; cf. 8. No. 5509, 5510; PSpPiR. 8. No. 2539, 2703. Titlinov. The Government. Chapters 3 and 4.

[515] See Table 1. Anna Leopoldovna arrived in St. Petersburg in 1722; in 1733 she converted to Orthodoxy, and on July 3, 1739, she married Prince Anton Ulrich of Brunswick. From November 9, 1740, to November 25, 1741, she served as regent for her son, John VI Antonovich, who was born on August 12, 1740, in St. Petersburg and was proclaimed heir to the throne on October 5 and Emperor of All Russia on October 17. On November 25, 1741, Elizabeth declared him to have forfeited the throne, and from December 2, 1741, until January 1756, he was in exile with his parents (Riga, Dünaburg, Kholmogory). In January 1756, Ioann Antonovich was taken into custody by order of Elizabeth and imprisoned in the Shlisselburg Fortress. When, in 1764, Second Lieutenant Vasily Mirovich attempted to free him and proclaim him emperor, he was killed and secretly buried at the Bogoroditsky Monastery in Tikhvin. Solovyov. 26. pp. 16–25; Brückner, A. Emperor Ioann Antonovich. St. Petersburg, 1874.

[516] PSZ. 11. Nos. 8291, 8482; Golubev. The Holy Synod, in: Internal Life. 2. pp. 227; Popov. Arseny Maceevich. 1912. pp. 52–56; Readings. 1863. Miscellany. p. 73; cf. Osterman’s note mentioned above in note 250.

[518] Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 98; Popov. Op. cit. p. 57.

[519] See the conference proceedings in: Collection, 136; Platonov. Lectures, p. 576. Of particular importance for understanding the Elizabethan era is the work: Popov, Arseny Matseevich (1912), as well as: Eshevsky, S. V., “An Essay on the Reign of Elizabeth Petrovna,” in: Collected Works, Vol. 2. St. Petersburg, 1870; here (pp. 574–576) there is also mention of the commission established at that time to draft a code of laws (the Code Commission). On this subject, see: Latkin, V., *The Draft of the New Code, Compiled by the Legislative Commission of 1754–1766*, St. Petersburg, 1893; Rubinstein, I. M., “The Codification Commission of 1754–1766 and Its Draft of a New Code ‘On the Status of Subjects,’” in: Ist. zap. 1951, vol. 38. Hereinafter: Vedenyapin; see also Klyuchevsky’s somewhat derisive characterization of Elizabeth. Course. 4 (1910). p. 450. An excellent work provides extensive material on Elizabeth’s attempts to revive the spirit of the Petrine era and follow in the footsteps of her late father, Peter the Great, in matters of governance: Gauthier, Y. History of Regional Administration in Russia from Peter the Great to Catherine II. Moscow, 1913. Vol. 1 (also in: Readings. 1913). On the Senate during Elizabeth’s reign, see: Gradovsky, A. D., “The Highest Administration of 18th-Century Russia and the Prosecutors General,” in: Collected Works, Vol. 1 (1899). p. 207.

[520] Popov, N. “Court Preachers,” in: Tikhonravov, vol. 2, p. 12 (see note 248). Vedenyapin, pp. 70, 85; Shcherbatov, in: Russian Articles, 1870, vol. 2, p. 35; cf. pp. 99 (characterization of Elizabeth), 101, 113; Popov. Arseny Matseevich. p. 111.

[521] Popov, Arseny Matseevich. pp. 84 ff., 94.

[523] Popov. Op. cit. p. 58, note.

[524] First published in Popov. Op. cit. Appendix 4. pp. 7–25.

[525] Popov, op. cit., Appendix 4, pp. 8, 12, 13, 15, 17, 20–25; cf. pp. 11, 227, 243.

[526] Popov. Op. cit. Appendix 4. pp. 28–36.

[527] Among Empress Elizabeth’s inner circle were not only “new” figures, such as Razumovsky, Vorontsov, and Shuvalov, but also Bestuzhev-Ryumin, Princes Cherkassky and Trubetskoy (Platonov. Lectures. p. 579). Y. P. Shakhovskoy (Notes. Vol. 2, 1821, p. 62) reports that he often conversed with the Prosecutor General, Prince Y. P. Trubetskoy, on ecclesiastical matters; cf.: Shcherbatov. “A Discourse on Russian Statistics,” in: Readings. 1859. Vol. 3, p. 69.

[528] PSZ. No. 8993. On the disputes between Arseny Matseevich and the Holy Synod, see: PSPiR. E. P. 1. No. 378; 2. Nos. 534, 602, 658, 749, 755, 934.

[529] Popov. Arseny Matseevich. p. 109; Historical and Statistical Gazetteer of St. Petersburg. Vol. 5, p. 124.

[531] On Arseny’s activities as a diocesan bishop—ibid. p. 143.

[532] Popov. Op. cit. pp. 121, 324, 301, 308, 328, 294–331. The feud between Arseny Matseevich and Dmitry Sechenov began as early as 1742 due to a dispute over a certain hieromonk (ibid., pp. 264–269). In 1745, after receiving a reprimand from the Holy Synod, Arseny wished to retire, but the Empress did not grant her consent (PSPiR, E. P., vol. 2, no. 924). The Synod also refused to authorize the publication of Arseny’s “Objections to the Lutheran Pamphlet, Entitled The Hammer, Against The Stone of Faith”—written around 1748—a response to an anonymous pamphlet against Stefan Yavorsky’s *The Stone of Faith*; the work was not published until 1775. (Popov, Op. cit., p. 303).

[533] On the tensions between Chief Prosecutor Shakhovsky and the Synod: Popov, op. cit., pp. 305, 308, 311, 314–316.

[534] On the political insignificance of A. G. Razumovsky, see: Platonov. Lectures. p. 579.

[535] On the role of Elizabeth’s confessor, F. Ya. Dubyansky (d. 1771): Shakhovskaya. Notes. 1821. Part 1, p. 85; Collection, vol. 42, pp. 413, 481; The Eighteenth Century, vol. 3, pp. 344, 397; Popov, op. cit., p. 415; Historical and Statistical St. Petersburg, vol. 6, pp. 33, 43.

[540] See Table 1. Peter III arrived in St. Petersburg on February 5, 1742; on November 6, he converted to Orthodoxy, and the following day he was proclaimed heir to the throne. On June 29, 1744, he became engaged to Sophie Augusta Frederica of Anhalt-Zerbt; their wedding took place on August 21, 1745. On Peter III: P. K. Shebalsky, *The Political System of Peter III*. Moscow, 1870; Notes by Stahlin (Jakob Stahlin), in: *Readings*. 1866. 4. Miscellany; Platonov, *Lectures*, p. 597; Helbig, G. A. W., *Biography of Peter the Third*. Tübingen, 1808; Stahlin, K., *From the Papers of Jakob von Stahlin*. Berlin, 1926; Fleischhacker, H., “Portrait of Peter III,” in: *JGO*. 1957. 5; Bain, R. N., *Peter III, Emperor of Russia: The Story of a Crisis and a Crime*. Westminster, 1902.

[541] Russian Journal, 1879, no. 25, p. 587; see also: Solovyov, vol. 25, p. 147.

[543] Cf. note 287, which gives the correct date—November 1742—Ed.

[544] Collection. 18. p. 391; Shchebalsky. Op. cit. p. 58. For Peter III’s remarks to members of the Holy Synod on tolerance in matters of faith (June 25, 1762), see: Russ. Arch. 1875. p. 2085.

[545] Bolotov, A. Memoirs. Vol. 2. p. 172.

[546] Collection. Vol. 18. p. 371.

[547] Russian Archives, 1871, p. 2055.

[548] Monuments of Modern Russian History. 2 (1872). pp. 17–18, and Russian Articles. 1872. 6. p. 567. This decree is not included in the PSZ.

[549] Collection. 18. p. 210; Solovyov. 25. p. 11.

[550] PSZ. 15. Nos. 11441, 11480; see § 10. Peter III’s tutor, Y. Stelin, wrote: “(The Emperor. – I. S.) is working on Peter the Great’s plan to confiscate monastic estates and to appoint a special Economic Collegium to administer them. Prosecutor General Alexander Ivanovich Glebov is drafting a manifesto on this matter” (Readings. 1866. 4. Miscellany. p. 103).

[551] Popov, Arseny Matseevich. p. 356; Solovyov. 25. p. 79.

[553] Ibid.; cf.: Readings. 1910. 2. p. 89.

[554] On these events, see: The Coup of 1762: Writings and Correspondence of Participants and Contemporaries. Moscow, 1911. 2nd ed.; a letter (pp. 95–100) from Catherine dated August 2, 1762, to Stan. Poniatowski, in which she describes how that day unfolded; cf.: Platonov. Lectures. pp. 608–611. On the extensive memoir literature concerning the coup of June 28, see: Bilbasov, V. A. History of Catherine the Second. 1896. Vol. 12.

[555] See Table 1; also: Smolitsch, I., “Catherine II’s Religious Views and the Russian Church,” in JGO, 1938, vol. 3, pp. 568–579. Catherine (Sophia Augusta Frederica of Anhalt-Zerbst) arrived in St. Petersburg on February 3, 1744; see note 287.

[556] Platonov. Lectures. pp. 615, 712. The literature on Catherine II is very extensive; on the difficulties during the early years of her reign: Korsakov, D. A. “Supporters of Catherine II’s Accession,” in: Ist. v. 1884. 2; Kizevetter, A. A., “The First Five Years of Catherine II’s Reign,” in: Collection in Honor of P. N. Milyukov. Paris, 1930; Klyuchevsky, V. O., “Empress Catherine II,” in: Russian Monthly 1896, no. 11 (also in: Essays and Speeches. Moscow, 1913, and St. Petersburg, 1918); Lappo-Danilevsky, A. S. “An Essay on the Domestic Policy of Catherine II.” St. Petersburg, 1898; Hoetzsch, O. *Katharina die Zweite von Ru?land: Eine deutsche Furstin auf dem russischen Zarenthron des 18. Jh.* Leipzig, 1940; 2nd ed.: 1942. V. A. Bilbasov intended to write a detailed history of Catherine, but, unfortunately, only the following were published: *The History of Catherine II*. Vol. 1 (1728–1762). St. Petersburg, 1890; Vol. 2 (1762–1764). London, 1895; Vol. 12. Berlin, 1896; German translation: Berlin, 1897. Important letters by Catherine II, which also address ecclesiastical matters, can be found in: Collected Works. Vol. 1, 6, 9, 10, 22 (to Grimm), 27, 32 (to Grimm), 42, 43 (to Grimm). Specifically on issues of public education under Catherine, see: Rozhdestvensky, S. V. Essays on the History of the Public Education System in Russia in the 18th Century. St. Petersburg, 1912. Vol. 1. Also important are: Khrapovitsky, A. V., *Diary: 1782–1793*. St. Petersburg, 1874, 1901. 2nd ed. (Khrapovitsky was Catherine II’s secretary); Gribovsky, A. M., *Notes on Catherine the Great*. Moscow, 1862.

[557] Platonov. Lectures. p. 601; cf. p. 612.

[558] On Simon Todorsky: Makarii (Bulgakov). History of the Kiev Academy. St. Petersburg, 1843. pp. 153, 171–175; Collection. 138. p. 44; RBS (Sabanev-Smyslovsky). p. 498; Kharlamovich. Little Russian Influence. Vol. 1. pp. 488, 531; Eizevskij, D. “Ein unbekannter Hallenser slavischer Druck,” in: ZSP. 1938. 15; ibid. The “Russian” Prints of the Halle Pietists, in: Kyrios. 1938. 3; Winter, E. Halle as the Starting Point of German Studies on Russia in the 18th Century. Berlin, 1953; ibid. “Some News of Mr. Simeon Todorski”: A Monument to German-Slavic Friendship in the 18th Century, in: Zeitschrift für Slavistik. 1956. 1. After graduating from the Kyiv Theological Academy, Todorski spent about 10 years in Germany, where he studied in Halle.

[559] See: Smolitsch (note 301). p. 571. Note 11 and p. 572. Todorski “has a thorough knowledge of the three religions, having studied for a long time in Halle; he devoted himself particularly to the Lutheran faith” [“is thoroughly familiar with the three religions, having studied for a long time in Halle; he devoted himself with particular zeal to the Lutheran faith” (French)],—wrote Ekaterina’s mother to her husband, the Duke of Anhalt-Zerbst (Collection. 7. p. 29).

[560] Khrapovitsky. Diary. Moscow, 1901. p. 190 (entry dated February 9, 1790).

[561] Shcherbatov. “On the Corruption of Morals,” in: Russian Articles, 1870, Vol. 3, p. 686.

[562] Dolgoruky, I. M. “A Journey to Kyiv in 1817,” in: Readings. 1870. Vol. 3. p. 78.

[563] Collection. 13. p. 101 (dated May 24, 1771).

[564] Catherine II. The Life of St. Sergius, in: Russian Articles 1888, vol. 57, p. 751. Before her coronation in Moscow (September 22, 1762), Catherine, like Elizabeth and the Moscow tsars, visited the Trinity-Sergius Lavra.

[565] Collection. 13. p. 325; cf. ibid. 1. p. 282.

[566] Bilbasov. Op. cit. 1, p. 129.

[567] Collection. 7. p. 97. On Catherine II’s church policy, see: Znamensky. Readings; Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov.

[568] Collected Works, vol. 37, p. 416; cf. p. 278.

[569] Correspondence of Catherine II with Monsieur Voltaire. Moscow, 1803. pp. 13, 24; see also: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. Vol. 1. pp. 411, 413; 2. pp. 28, 33; Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov. pp. 281, 360.

[570] Shcherbatov. “Statistics in the Context of Russia,” in: Readings. 1859. Vol. 3. p. 70.

[572] Ibid. 13. p. 378 (dated December 27, 1773).

[573] Ibid. 33. p. 142 (dated April 23, 1781).

[574] In her own account of her reign, Catherine emphasizes: “Catherine had ascended the throne; she had been placed there to defend the Orthodox faith” (see note 24. – Ed.), in: Russian Archives. 1865. p. 490. The well-known priest of that time, Peter Alekseev (see § 12), dedicated his 1767 book *True Christian Piety* (Moscow, 1767) to the Empress as a true follower of the true Deity (Filaret. Review. 2 (1884). 3rd ed. p. 386).

[575] PSZ. 16. No. 11582. See the coronation manifesto of July 5 (ibid., No. 11598). Catherine presented the death of Peter III as Divine Providence (ibid., No. 11599). For Elizabeth, who was also regarded as a defender of the faith following Anna’s godless reign, there was no need in her accession manifesto to justify the events of the night of November 25, 1741 (ibid., vol. 11, No. 8475): her position as the daughter of Peter the Great was secure.

[577] Solovyov. 5 (Public Benefit). p. 1370; a medal was struck to commemorate Catherine’s coronation with the inscription: “For the salvation of the faith and the fatherland” (ibid., p. 1372).

[579] The Nakaz, ed. Chechulin (1907). pp. 1, 79, 352, 494–497, 552. Essential literature on *The Nakaz*: Chechulin, D. “On the Sources of *The Nakaz*,” in: ZhMNP. 1902. 4 (also in the introduction to the 1907 edition of the “Nakaz”); Latkin. Textbook (1909). p. 627; idem. Legislative Commissions. p. 185; Polenov, D. V. Historical Information on the Catherine Commission for the Drafting of a New Code. St. Petersburg, 1872; Dityatin, I. I. “Catherine’s Legislative Commission on the Drafting of a New Code,” in: Yuridich. Vestnik. 1879. 3–5 (and as a separate publication: Rostov-on-Don, 1905); Florovsky, A. The Composition of the Legislative Commission, 1767–1774. Odessa, 1915; Andreae, F. Contributions to the History of Catherine I: The Instructions of 1767 for the Commission to Draft a New Code. Berlin, 1912; Sacke, G. Catherine II’s Legislative Commission: A Contribution to the History of Absolutism in Russia. Breslau, 1940; Sergeevich, V. “The Reasons for the Failure of Catherine’s Legislative Commission,” in: VE. 1878. 6; Taranovsky, F. V. “The Political Doctrine in the ‘Instruction’ of Empress Catherine II.” Kyiv, 1903. On ecclesiastical issues related to the “Nakaz”: Barsov, N. “Supplementary Points to the Decrees of the Holy Synod to the Deputy It Chose for the Commission of 1767,” in: Christian Readings 1877, no. 11–12; Prilezhaev, E. M. “The Decree and the Points for the Deputy from the Holy Synod to the Catherine Commission on the Drafting of a New Code,” in: Christian Readings 1878, no. 9. Materials of the Commission, in: Collection. 4, 8, 14, 32, 36, 43, 68, 93, 107, 115, 123, 143, 147; on ecclesiastical matters: ibid. Vol. 4, 36 and especially 43 (relevant materials are also found in other volumes).

[580] Regulation (1907). Art. 351, 495.

[581] Ibid. Order of the Prosecutor General. Art. 167, 168.

[582] Cf.: PSZ. 19. No. 13996 (May 29, 1777), where Catherine II declared: “Just as Almighty God tolerates all faiths, languages, and confessions on earth, so does Her Majesty.” See also Volume 2 on Catherine’s policy toward the Old Believers. The caustic Prince I. M. Dolgoruky, who was known as an “atheist” and a “Jacobin,” explains Catherine II’s religious tolerance by stating that “tolerance… stems from complete indifference to all things sacred” (Readings. 1870. 3. p. 78). That the degree of Catherine’s religious tolerance could vary is evident from her policy toward the Uniate Church in Belarus (see vol. 2).

[583] Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov, p. 131; Snegirev, The Life of Metropolitan Platon (1891), p. 115; see also Catherine II’s letter to Platon Levshin: Readings, 1875, vol. 4, p. 166 (dated February 30, 1766).

[585] Sergeevich, in: VE. 1878. 1. p. 200.

[586] Collection. 43. Appendix; Titlinov. Op. cit. p. 166; Florovsky. Op. cit. pp. 57–60.

[587] According to A. Florovsky (Composition of the Legislative Commission, 1767–1777. Odessa, 1915. p. 17), this report was written by the Commission’s chairman, A. I. Bibikov. In the order issued by Prosecutor General Prince A. A. Vyazemsky to the Senate, listing the institutions to which a copy of the “Nakaz” was to be sent, the Holy Synod was not mentioned (PSZ, vol. 18, no. 12977).

[588] Collection. 42. pp. 42–62; also in: Prilezhaev. pp. 241–262. During the discussion of the points, Chief Prosecutor I. I. Melissino proposed adding a clause to the “Instruction” for the deputy of the Holy Synod regarding a reduction in the number of icons (Readings. 1871. 3. Miscellany. pp. 114–117). The Synod apparently paid no attention to Melissino’s proposal (Prilezhaev. p. 227).

[590] Collection. 43. Introduction. pp. I–II.

[591] Ibid. Appendix. Among the proposals made by the diocesan bishops, the most interesting are those by Athanasius of Volkhov, Bishop of Rostov, in which he proposed opening parish schools for peasant children of both sexes (ibid., pp. 421–425).

[592] Collection. 43. pp. 42–65. Dimitri Sechenov died on December 14, 1767; Gavriil Petrov was elected chairman.

[593] On the reasons for the commission’s failure, see: Sergeevich, op. cit.; Platonov, Lectures, pp. 624–628.

[594] Latkin. Textbook (1909). p. 63; Collection. 93. pp. 541, 92, 162, 192, 257, 305, 349, 370.

[595] See note 340; Krylov, V., “The Catherine Commission in Its Attitude Toward the Clergy as a Social Class,” in *Faith and Reason*, 1903, vol. 8, p. 480.

[596] Collection. 36. pp. 185–188. Introduction. pp. IV–VII; draft—pp. 179–231; on the clergy—p. 185; opinion of the Holy Synod—pp. 187–188.

[598] Collection. 7. p. 378. On the preference for Great Russian bishops: Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov. p. 46; Kharlamovich. 7. p. 488. The “Catalog of Synod Members” (Readings. 1917. 2. Miscellany) always includes information about their origins.

[599] Popov, Arseny Matseevich. p. 360.

[600] The bishops were soon punished for their disagreement with Dimitri Sechenov: on May 26, 1763, Afanasy was transferred from Tver to Rostov; on June 4, Gedeon was dismissed from the Synod and sent back to his diocese; and on July 25, Veniamin was transferred to Kazan (Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. Miscellany. p. 16; Popov. Arseny Maceevich. p. 361). According to Kharlampovich (p. 638), Gedeon Krinovsky was not Ukrainian.

[601] PSPiR. Vol. II, Part 1, No. 22; cf. No. 64; Zavyalov, p. 123.

[602] PSZ. 16. No. 11643; PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. No. 37; Popov. Op. cit. pp. 363, 367.

[603] Cited in: Ikonnikov, Arseny Matseevich, in: Russkiye Statisti, 1879, No. 9, p. 4.

[604] Popov. Op. cit. pp. 382, 381–383. This anathema likely arose after the Local Council of 1503. It was based on a single spurious canon of the Fifth Ecumenical Council, which was contained in the handwritten Synodikon of 1642. This Synodikon was kept in Rostov by Arseny (Ikonnikov, op. cit., p. 5). For a description of the solemn act of anathema, see: *Readings*, 1862, vol. 2, Miscellany, pp. 15–20. Cf.: Popov, N., “Description of the Manuscripts of the Simonov Monastery,” in: *Readings*, 1910, p. 90.

[605] Popov. Op. cit., pp. 393–395; Zavyalov. Op. cit., pp. 127, 132.

[606] Zavyalov. Op. cit. p. 130; Popov. Op. cit. p. 338. Report dated March 6, 1763, in: Readings. 1862. Miscellany. pp. 25–39; Popov (pp. 400–404) provides only a summary of the content.

[608] The Case of Arseny Maceevich, in: Readings. 1862. Vol. 3. Miscellany. pp. 158–162 (pagination error! Should be: 258–262 – V. Filipp).

[610] Ibid. p. 408. Later, Catherine wrote to Voltaire that Arseny had been incited to protest by some of his “brethren” (bishops?) (Collection, vol. 10, p. 37); in another letter, she particularly praised Dimitri Sechenov (ibid., p. 160). Catherine’s words do not correspond to reality; as already mentioned, Arseny had been voicing protests even during the reign of Elizabeth Petrovna.

[611] Popov. Op. cit., pp. 408, 414; Readings. 1862. 3. Miscellany. pp. 152, 147.

[612] Collection. 7. p. 269. Catherine’s expression “they chopped off heads” is a reference to the execution of Dositheus Glebov, Bishop of Rostov, following the trial of Tsarevich Alexei on March 17, 1718 (Solovyov. 4 (Public Benefit). Col. 478).

[615] Author’s italics. Popov. Op. cit. pp. 423, 424–427, 430.

[617] Ibid. pp. 501, 521, 521–550, 565, 576 (detailed analysis of Arsenius’s “second case”); cf.: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. Vol. 2. p. 26.

[618] See below, § 10, and Smolitsch, *Russisches Monchtum*, chaps. 6, 13.

[619] Cf. various opinions on the nature of Catherine’s church policy: Barsov, *The Holy Synod*, p. 252; Titlinov, *Gabriel Petrov*, pp. 284, 288, 792, 1030; Popov, *Op. cit.*, p. 454; Kharlamovich, p. 488; Smolitsch, in: JGO. 1938. 3. For statements by Platon Levshin, see: Vinogradov, V., in: BV. 1913. 2. pp. 322, 323, 326.

[621] Kharlamovich (p. 490, note 2) believes that Pavel Konyushkevich lost his professorship not because of his support for Arseny, but as a result of numerous complaints about his cruel treatment of parish priests in the Siberian Diocese. Ekaterina herself wrote about this to Dimitri Sechenov (Collection. 10. p. 275). There is a fairly extensive body of literature on Pavel Konyushkevich, mostly of an apologetic nature, presenting him as Catherine’s “second victim”: Amramov, N. “Pavel II Konyushkevich, Metropolitan of Tobolsk and Siberia,” in: Stranik. 1868, no. 2; Tolstoy, M. V., in: *Readings*, 1870, no. 2; Titov, A. A., in: *Historical Journal*, 1888, no. 1; Ikonnikov, V. S., in: *Russian Articles*, 1892, p. 73; and especially: Titov, F., *Saint Paul, Metropolitan of Tobolsk and Siberia (1705–1770)*, Moscow, 1913. See also: *Russian Biographical Dictionary* (Paul-Peter).

[622] Historical and Statistical Gazetteer of St. Petersburg, Vol. 6, p. 92. On Veniamin’s conduct during the Pugachev Rebellion, see: Pravda Collection, 1859, Vol. 2, pp. 205–210; Panin’s letter: Russkiye Stat’i 1870. 1; Catherine’s letters to Veniamin (after 1774): Sbornik. 26. pp. 21, 28.

[623] On Catherine II’s policy toward the Old Believers, see vol. 2.

[624] On the brief reign of Paul I and on Paul I himself, see: Kobeko, D. F., *Crown Prince Paul Petrovich*. St. Petersburg, 1891; Schilder, N., *Emperor Paul I*. St. Petersburg, 1901; Shumigorsky, E. S., *Emperor Paul I: Life and Reign*. St. Petersburg, 1907 (the same author, in the RBS). A particularly valuable work is: Klochkov, M. V., *Essays on Governmental Activities During the Reign of Paul I*. St. Petersburg, 1916. Among the memoirs of the time of Paul I, the following are important: Sablukov, *Notes*, in: *Russian Archives*, 1869; Adam Czartoryski. Memoirs. Moscow, 1912. Vol. 1.

[625] Klochkov, p. 272. Already under Catherine II, the Senate had lost the privileged status it had enjoyed under Peter the Great and, to some extent, under Elizabeth, becoming, in essence, an administrative and legal institution. Paul I further strengthened the position of the Prosecutor General in the Senate; see: Filippov, A. N. Textbook on the History of Russian Law. Vol. 1 (Yuryev, 1912. 4th ed.). pp. 692–698.

[626] Klochkov. Op. cit. p. 272; Blagovidov. Op. cit. pp. 297–300.

[627] Russian Archives. 1895. 1. pp. 300, 311.

[628] Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. Miscellany. pp. 17–22; Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 141–142. For Plato Levshin’s critical remarks regarding such awards, see: BV. 1913. 1. p. 238; Russ. Arch. 1868. 4. p. 463; Hist. – Stat. St. Petersburg. 6. p. 352; Snegirev. 1891. pp. 238, 240.

[629] Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. p. 17; Russian Architecture. 1869. p. 1589.

[630] Blagovidov, p. 298; Klochkov, p. 282; Russian Architecture, 1892, Vol. 1, p. 493; 1895, Vol. 3, p. 300 (rumors about the alleged impending appointment of Amvrosy Podobedov as patriarch).

[632] Notes by A. A. Yakovlev, in: Monuments of Modern Russian Literature. 3 (1873). p. 102; cf. pp. 91, 95. Filaret Drozdov, who knew Amvrosy Podobedov well, believed that the latter had managed to adapt successfully to Paul I’s unique character: “The sovereign had a lively temperament and a strong will; under him, one needed liveliness and resourcefulness; sometimes a decree required swift execution, but also resourcefulness, so as not to compromise the government or incur the sovereign’s wrath. Amvrosy was capable of this. He lacked outstanding talents, but he was a practical and lively man… Under the new sovereign (Alexander I—I. S.), Amvrosy proved unsatisfactory. Reforms were underway that he did not support, and he always stood alone with his opinion, even though a committee gathered in his hall… He rendered a great service to the Church by remaining firmly in his position” (Memoirs and Testimonies of Metropolitan Filaret, in: Russian Archive, 1906, vol. 3, pp. 216–217). Metropolitan Filaret once said to P. Bartenev (publisher of *Russian Archive*): “The chief merit of His Eminence Ambrose lies in the fact that during the reign of Emperor Paul he protected our Church from the proposed (?! – I. S.) innovations” (Russian Archive 1895, 1, p. 312).

[633] Memoirs and Remarks by Metropolitan Filaret, in: Russkiy Arkhiv 1907, vol. 1, p. 53.

[634] Nikolai Mikhailovich. Vol. 1, p. 345; cf. pp. 343, 347, 337; cf.: Pypin, A. “Alexander I and the Quakers,” in: V.E., 1869, Vol. 10, p. 762; Platonov. Lectures. p. 655; Melgunov, S. Events and People of the Alexandrian Era. Berlin, 1923. p. 267.

[635] Nikolai Mikhailovich. Vol. 1, p. 24.

[636] Memoirs of Filaret, in: Russk. Arkh. 3. p. 215. An interesting book on the biography of Prince A. N. Golitsyn is: Goetze von P., *Fürst A. N. Gallizin und seine Zeit*. Leipzig, 1882. Peter von Goetze came from the Baltic region, graduated from the University of Dorpat, and from 1819 served as a civil servant in the Department of Foreign Confessions of the Dual Ministry, where he quickly gained Golitsyn’s favor. In his book, Goetze repeatedly mentions the prince’s particular tolerance; the prince was evidently quite candid with his subordinate. However, Getze later managed to establish a fairly close relationship with the new minister, Admiral Shishkov, as well, which attests to his “abilities” as a civil servant, since Shishkov and Golitsyn were complete opposites in their views.

[637] PSZ. 28. No. 21790. Among the members of the Holy Synod, Anastasius Bratanovsky, known for his remarkable sermons, deserves special mention.

[639] Goetze. Op. cit. pp. 29, 56–77.

[640] Chistovich. Leading Figures. p. 183. On the biography of Ambrose: Chistovich. His Eminence Ambrose, Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg, in: Stranik. 1860. 5–8; Historical and Statistical Gazetteer of St. Petersburg. Vol. 8. pp. 15–25. See also notes 376, 378.

[641] On Mikhail Desnitsky, see § 7, note 176; Florovsky, p. 152. On the era of the Dual Ministry: Dovnar-Zapolsky, pp. 195–213, et al.; Barsov, The Holy Synod in Its Past, p. 326; Rozhdestvensky, S. V. Historical Overview. pp. 100–112; acts on the establishment and dissolution of the Dual Ministry: PSZ. 34. No. 27106; 39. No. 29914.

[642] Nikolai Mikhailovich. 1. p. 249; Dovnar-Zapolsky. pp. 195–250.

[643] PSZ. 33. No. 25943 (September 14–26, 1815); cf. the manifesto of December 25, 1815: PSZ. 33. No. 26045. On this, see: Nadler, V. K. Emperor Alexander I and the Idea of the Holy Alliance. Kharkiv, 1886–1892. Vol. 1–5; Presnyakov, A. E. “The Ideology of the Holy Alliance,” in: Annals. 3 (1923); idem. Alexander I. L., 1924. Schaeder, H. *Die dritte Koalition und die Heilige Allianz*. Berlin, 1934; Gribble, F. *Emperor and Mystic: The Life of Alexander I of Russia*. London, 1931. See also: Schilder, vols. 3 and 4 (here, [vol. 4, pp. 111–114]—Alexander’s conversation with Eilert). For Prince A. N. Golitsyn’s characterization of Alexander I, see: Tales of Prince A. N. Golitsyn, in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1886, No. 5, pp. 86, 107–109.

[644] Nikolai Mikhailovich. Vol. 1, p. 241 (Alexander to Golitsyn): “It is hardly likely that your judgment would differ from my point of view, because these principles of destruction, as enemies of the thrones, are directed even more against the Christian faith, and the main goal they pursue is to achieve this—for which I have thousands upon thousands of irrefutable proofs that I can present to you. In short, this is the result, put into practice, of the doctrines preached by Voltaire, Mirabeau, Condorcet, and all the so-called Encyclopedists… Is it not the duty of a Christian to fight against the enemy and his diabolical creation by all the means given to us by Divine Providence?” Cf.: Pypin. The Social Movement (1908, 4th ed.). pp. 428–435.

[645] PSZ. 34. No. 27114 (dated October 24, 1815); this document also contains specific explanations addressed to the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod.

[646] Cited in: Runkevich, op. cit., p. 557.

[647] For more on Serafim Glagolevsky, see § 7, note 177.

[648] Kizevetter, A. A. “Emperor Alexander I and Arakcheyev,” in Historical Essays. Moscow, 1912, p. 289.

[649] On the feud between Golitsyn and Arakcheyev: “Stories of Metropolitan Filaret,” recorded by A. V. Gorsky, in: Russian Archives, 1882, No. 3, p. 53; Kizevetter, op. cit., p. 392; Marchenko, V. “Autobiographical Notes,” in: Russian Studies, 1896, no. 86, p. 11; Goetze, p. 124. Goetze notes that Golitsyn, while serving as minister, never infringed upon the rights or authority of the Holy Synod (ibid., p. 24).

[650] On Photios: Karnovich, in: Ist. v. 1882; idem. Archimandrite Photios, abbot of the Yuryev Monastery in Novgorod, in: Russ. Art. 1875. 7–8; idem. Prince A. N. Golitsyn and Archimandrite Photios, in: Russ. Art. 1882. 3; Popov, K. “Archimandrite Photios of Yuryev and His Ecclesiastical and Social Activities,” in: TKDA, 1875, 2, 6; Miropolsky, S. “Photios Spassky, Archimandrite of Yuryev,” in: VE, 1878, 11–12; Chizh, V. G., “The Psychology of Fanaticism,” in: Questions of Philosophy and Psychology. 16 (1905); Chistovich, “Leading Figures,” p. 224; Florovsky, p. 156.

[651] Slezkinsky, A. “Photius and Countess A. A. Orlova (Photius’s Letters to Her),” in: Russkiye Stat’i, 1899, 1902, 1903; “Letters of Archimandrite Photius,” in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1878, no. 2; Karnovich, in: Russkiye Stat’i, 1875. 7. The Yuryev Monastery received nearly 1 million rubles in donations from A. A. Orlova for Photios.

[652] Barsov, N., in: Christian Readings, 1879, No. 1, p. 769 (review).

[653] Karnovich, in: Russian Articles, 1875, vol. 8, p. 487.

[654] Florovsky, p. 156; cf. a letter from S. S. Uvarov (then trustee of the St. Petersburg Educational District) to Baron von Stein (1813), in: Russian Archives, 1871, No. 2, p. 130.

[655] Photius himself left an account of his first conversation with Alexander I: From the notes of Archimandrite Photius on his meeting with the sovereign, in: Russian Archives, 1869, p. 929; cf.: Goetze, pp. 196 ff., 179 ff.; on Arakcheev’s intrigues against Golitsyn: ibid., p. 124 and Seraphim, p. 205; see also: Collection, vol. 103, no. 1, pp. 2–4 (report by Suslov, Seraphim’s personal secretary). Photius sent Arakcheev a gold cross inscribed: “To the Defender of the Church, the Zealot of Orthodoxy, the Christ-loving Count Alexei Andreevich” (ibid., p. 4, note). Cf. Photius’s laudatory letter about Arakcheev to a certain Archimandrite Gerasim, in: Russ. Arch. 1868. p. 944, and Photius’s characterization of “universal Christianity”: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1873, p. 1452. On Photius’s autobiography, “The Narrative of the Reverend Archimandrite Photius on His Life” (manuscript), see: M. Lileev A detailed description of the manuscript works of Archimandrite Photius of Yuryev, preserved in the Chernihiv Seminary Library, in: Readings. 1880. 1. Miscellany. pp. 1–18; also in this volume: on Photius’s conversations with Alexander I (pp. 8, 10, 11, 12). In addition: From the Notes of Photius, in: Readings. 1868. 1. Miscellany. pp. 269–273; this volume also includes a letter from Photius to Alexander (dated April 29, 1824) opposing the Bible Society, Golitsyn, and other proponents of mysticism (pp. 270–271).

[656] From the notes of Archimandrite Fotiy: “An Audience with the Sovereign,” in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1869, p. 929.

[657] Shishkov’s views are most clearly reflected in his notes: Notes, Opinions, and Correspondence of Admiral Shishkov. St. Petersburg, 1870. 2 vols. For interesting, though not always objective, assessments of Shishkov, see: Goetze. pp. 210–217, 221–222, 282–320. An ultra-conservative Russophile of a strictly Orthodox persuasion, the admiral was more tolerant in his personal life: his first wife was a German Protestant, and his second was a Polish Catholic! Shishkov served as Minister of Public Education until April 1828; he died on April 9, 1841. See the characterization of Shishkov in: Florovsky. pp. 161–166. On the story of the ban on Filaret Drozdov’s Catechism: Sushkov, N. B., Notes on the Life and Times of Saint Filaret. Moscow, 1868. p. 102 and Appendix, pp. XXIII–XXVI; Korsunsky, I. “Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, in His Catechisms,” in: Collection for the 100th Anniversary of Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1882. Vol. 2, p. 667.

[658] Nikolai Mikhailovich. The Legend of the Death of Emperor Alexander I in Siberia in the Form of the Elder Fyodor Kuzmich. St. Petersburg, 1907; also: Vasilich, G. Emperor Alexander I and the Elder Fyodor Kuzmich. Moscow, 1909 (Russian Folklore, No. 4); Baryatinsky, V. V. The Royal Mystic. St. Petersburg, 1912. 2nd ed. (the author considers the legend plausible); Mikhailov, K. N. Emperor Alexander I, Elder Fyodor Kuzmich. St. Petersburg, 1913 (same point of view); Winkler, M. Zarenlegendë Alexander I. von Ru?land. Munich, 1948. 2nd ed. (extensive bibliography); Lyubimov, L. The Mystery of Emperor Alexander I. Paris, 1938. On the inner dichotomy of Alexander’s personality as a man and a monarch, see also: Firsov, N. N. Emperor Alexander I and His Inner Drama, in: Historical Characterizations and Sketches. Vol. 1 (Kazan, 1922). pp. 131–158 (first published as a small brochure: St. Petersburg, 1910); Stahlin, K. “Ideal and Reality in the Last Years of Alexander I,” in: HZ. 1931. 145.

[659] Cf. Florovsky’s opinion. p. 157.

[660] Italics by the author. For Karamzin’s “Note,” see: Pypin. The Social Movement (St. Petersburg, 1900). Appendix. pp. 491, 533.

[661] Russ. Arkh. 1893. 1. pp. 89, 90.

[662] Pypin (1900). Appendix. p. 533.

[663] Materials for the Biography of Innokenty Borisov. Issue 2 (1888). p. 34.

[664] Cited in: Runkevich. The Russian Church in the 19th Century. p. 586. On the reign of Nicholas I, see: Polievktov, M. Nicholas I: Biography and Overview of His Reign. Moscow, 1918 (an almost complete bibliography of the period); further: Materials and Sketches for the Biography of Emperor Nicholas I and the History of His Reign, ed. N. F. Dubrovin, in: Collection. 98 (1896); Materials, in: Collection. 113. 1–2 (1902); Kizevetter, A. A. Historical Essays. Moscow, 1912; Kornilov, A., A Course in the History of Russia in the 19th Century, Vol. 2. Moscow, 1912; Schilder, N., Emperor Nicholas I: His Life and Reign. St. Petersburg, 1903. 2 vols. (the account covers only up to 1833); Presnyakov, A. E. The Apogee of Autocracy: Nicholas I. Leningrad, 1925. Among this literature, M. Polievktov’s work deserves special mention; the chapter “Domestic Policy during the Reign of Emperor Nicholas I” in Kizevetter’s aforementioned work also merits attention.

[665] Filaret Drozdov, Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna. Words and Speeches: Second Collection. Moscow, 1861. Part 3. p. 252.

[666] For Filaret’s major works and the most important literature about him, see the bibliography for this section, as well as the Introduction by B. For other literature, see: Korsunsky, in: RBS; Florovsky. A History of Russian Theology (1937). A large body of material (letters, statements, administrative resolutions on matters of church governance, etc.) is scattered across various issues of the journals *Dushepoleznoe Chtenie* and *Russky Arkhiv*; it supplements the materials published by Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov. See also: Smolitsch, I., *Russisches Monchtum* (1953), pp. 456–458. Note.

[667] Materials in: Collection. 113. 1. p. 36.

[668] Excerpts… for the year 1867. p. 16.

[669] From the memoirs of Prof. I. E. Evseev, in: At the Trinity in the Academy: 1814–1914 (Sergiev Posad, 1914). p. 315. Note; cf.: Savva. Chronicle. 2. p. 689.

[670] Archimandrite Anthony Medvedev served as the abbot of the Lavra from 1831 to 1877 (officially, the Metropolitan of Moscow was its archimandrite). Filaret’s letters to Anthony were published in four volumes: Moscow, 1883–1884. Leonid Krasnopevkov came from a noble family and initially served as a naval officer. Under the influence of Archimandrite Ignatius Bryanchaninov (see §§ 12, 23), he resigned from the navy, graduated from the St. Petersburg Theological Academy (1842), and took monastic vows (1845). In 1849, he became rector of the Vifan Seminary; it was around this time that he became close to Filaret. From 1859 to 1876, Leonid served as vicar of the Moscow Diocese and, until 1867, as Filaret’s closest associate. On May 20, 1876, Leonid Krasnopevkov was appointed archbishop of Yaroslavl, where he died that same year. On Leonid as a man of high moral character, see: Savva. Chronicle; Archimandrite Pimen Myasnikov. Memoirs, in: Readings. 1877–1878; Leonid’s letters: Readings. 1877. 1. pp. 1–97; Leonid’s notes on Filaret are frequently cited here.

[671] Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1913. 5. pp. 140–141. P. S. Kazansky was a professor of secular history at the Moscow Theological Academy (1842–1874). His correspondence with his older brother, Archbishop Platon of Thebes of Kostroma (1857–1877), is a valuable source on the history of the 1860s and 1870s, particularly for characterizing Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov as a person and a hierarch. The historian S. M. Solovyov, on the other hand, criticizes Filaret for his conservative views, since, in his opinion, they hindered the free development of scholarship at the Moscow Theological Academy (Solovyov, S. M., “My Notes for My Children, and, If Possible, for Others,” in: VE. 1907. 3. pp. 76–78); cf.: Florovsky, in: The Way. 12.

[672] From Memoirs of Metropolitan Filaret, in: Chteniya. 1877. 1. p. 141.

[673] Letter from A. N. Muravyov to Patriarch Gregory VI of Constantinople dated January 23, 1868, cited in: Barsukov, I. Innokenty, Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna. Moscow, 1883. p. 565.

[674] Savva. Chronicle. 7. p. 423. In addition to the various assessments of Filaret Drozdov, one should also note I. S. Aksakov’s review of him: *Russkiye Stтии*, 1885, 6, pp. 561–565.

[675] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. p. 145 (here Filaret also speaks out against the restoration of the patriarchate).

[676] Author’s italics. Ibid. 4. p. 578 (written in 1838). Cf. Filaret’s letter to Chief Prosecutor S. D. Nechayev (1833), in: Russkiye Arkhivy 1895. 1. p. 122.

[677] This quotation could not be verified against the Russian original; therefore, it is given in translation from German. – Ed.

[678] Filaret. Op. cit. Vol. 5, p. 362; Vol. 4, p. 469; Vol. 5, p. 232.

[679] Kizevetter, A. A. Historical Essays (Moscow, 1912). p. 420; cf. pp. 202–218, 419. On the era of Nicholas I, see the aforementioned work by M. Polievktov, as well as: Gershenzon, M. O., The Era of Nicholas I (Moscow, 1910). Cf. D. A. Milyutin’s characterization of the era of Nicholas I in: Diary, Vol. 1 (Moscow, 1947), p. 20. S. S. Uvarov’s well-known statement about “Orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality” as the foundations of government policy dates from 1832; this idea was reiterated in one of Uvarov’s reports in 1843; for the text, see: Gershenzon, pp. 115–118.

[681] Filaret Drozdov, Metropolitan of Moscow, in: Russkaya Gazeta, 1885, no. 7, p. 9.

[682] Ibid., pp. 5–9; Collection 113, vol. 1, pp. 4–6, 19–27, 37–43, 28. On Filaret’s attitude toward the rise of mysticism during the reign of Alexander I, see: Florovsky, pp. 166–173.

[683] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 36–46, 157; Filaret’s letters to S. D. Nechayev, in: Russ. Arch. 1893. 1; Schilder. Nicholas I. 1 (1903). p. 466; Russian Historical Journal, 1885, no. 7, pp. 9–15.

[684] Filaret. Letters to Archimandrite Anthony. 1. p. 18; Stories of Metropolitan Filaret, recorded by A. V. Gorsky, in: Russian Archives 1888. 3. p. 592.

[685] Collection. 113. Vol. 1. pp. 71, 85, 53–56, 107, 146, 148; Nikanor. Biographical Materials. Vol. 1. p. 231; Russian Archives 1900. No. 11. p. 426. On the time of Protasov, see also the extensive monograph by N. N. Glubokovsky: His Eminence Smaragd (Kryzhanovsky), in: Christian Readings, 1913.

[686] On the Pavsky case, see § 20 below and Vol. 2, § 28.

[687] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 37, 44–50. Outwardly, however, Emperor Nicholas continued to treat the “wise Filaret” with respect; in 1849, Filaret received the highest award of the Russian Empire—the Order of St. Andrew with diamonds—and in 1850, a pectoral cross with diamonds.

[688] Nikanor. Biographical Materials. 1. p. 109; Collection. 113. 1. pp. 89–106, 111–133.

[689] Gribovsky, V. M. “Church Administration during the Reign of Emperor Nicholas I,” in: Istoricheskie Vesti, 1902, vol. 8, p. 461; cf.: Ivantsov-Platonov, A. On Russian Church Administration (Moscow, 1898). pp. 29, 68; also A. N. Muravyov’s letter to M. P. Pogodin dated June 23, 1859: *Starina i Novizna*. 19 (1915). p. 90; furthermore: Goetze. p. 394.

[690] M. Edlinsky, “Anatoly Martynovsky,” in: TKDA. 1885. 6. p. 244; 1886. 4. p. 526; here is another letter from 1866 (p. 527); for several of Anatoly’s letters, see: Kiev. Art. 1884. 7. See also: Blagovidov (1900, 2nd ed.). p. 416; Collection. 113. 1. p. 22; 2. pp. 4–60 (on Archbishop Iriney of Irkutsk).

[691] On the era of Alexander II, see Tatishchev, S. S., *Emperor Alexander II: His Life and Reign*. St. Petersburg, 1903. 2 vols.; Kornilov, *Course* (bibliography, general literature). Vol. 2. S. M. Solovyov characterizes Alexander II as follows: “Born without outstanding abilities or energy, he received a most one-sided education and, due to intellectual laziness, did not think to use the long period of his succession to make up for the shortcomings of his education through reading and interaction with living, knowledgeable people… Reforms are carried out by Peter the Greats, but it is a disaster when they are undertaken by Louis XVIs and Alexander IIs. A reformer like Peter the Great holds the reins firmly in his hand even on the steepest descent, but reformers of the second kind let the horses gallop full speed down the mountain, lacking the strength to restrain them, and thus the carriage is doomed.” (Solovyov. Notes. No place, no date [Moscow, 1907]. pp. 154, 168). M. Meshchersky also portrays Alexander II as a man with an unstable and indecisive character (Vol. 2, pp. 502–514). D. A. Milyutin provides extensive material on the personality of Alexander II in his *Diary*. Moscow, 1947–1950. Vol. 1–3.

[692] Along with other religious journals, the Moscow-based *Orthodox Review* devoted particular attention to issues of reform; it can be regarded as the mouthpiece of the White clergy of the 1860s. As can be seen from the previously cited correspondence between Professor Kazansky and his brother, the archbishop, these journals—due to the social issues discussed in them—had a significantly broader readership than just the clergy. For Kazansky’s letters, see: At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 510–589.

[693] John Sokolov’s sermon “Greetings to the Church and the Fatherland for the New Year,” in: Prav. Sob. 1859. 1. 2. p. 236.

[694] “Public Repentance,” in: *Christian Readings*, 1865, vol. 1, p. 200.

[695] On Archimandrite Fyodor Bukharev, see § 12 and 20 below.

[697] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 112, 116–118; 5. 1. p. 387; see: Chistovich. Leading Figures. p. 361. For Filaret’s note dated July 21, 1857, on the necessity of a Russian translation of the Holy Scriptures, see: Collection of Opinions. Vol. 4, pp. 244–259; even earlier (September 14, 1856), Filaret wrote about this to the Holy Synod (ibid., pp. 131–136) and to the Chief Prosecutor (ibid., pp. 259–262); see: Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1904. 1. pp. 568, 573.

[698] For Muravyov’s note (in part), see: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1883, vol. 2, pp. 175–203. During these turbulent years, rich in reforms, Minister of the Interior P. A. Valuev presented a proposal according to which the State Council was to include representatives of the episcopate to defend the “interests of the Russian Church” there. Filaret was opposed to this (Collection of Opinions, vol. 5, no. 1, pp. 173, 175–177, 179–181). Filaret was also quite reserved on such an important issue as the emancipation of the peasants. He opposed the Church’s interference in the government’s domestic policy: “It would be in vain to stray from the path of the Church only to stumble into a pit on the path of politics,” in: Letters to Bishop Alexy (Moscow, 1884). p. 193. (dated February 21, 1859). However, later, in one of his letters to Chief Prosecutor A. P. Akhmatov (dated March 8, 1865: Collection of Opinions. Vol. 5, No. 2, p. 668), Filaret called the emancipation of the peasants “a great undertaking.” See: Melgunov, S. P., “Metropolitan Filaret—A Figure in the Peasant Reform,” in: The Great Reform. Moscow, 1911. Vol. 5. pp. 156–163; Belyaev, A. A., “Issues and Events of the 1860s and Metropolitan Filaret’s Attitude Toward Them,” in: Prav. ob. 1889. 9; see also: Russ. Arkh. 1912. 2. pp. 351–356.

[699] Author’s italics. Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 145–149. Filaret’s attitude toward secular authority is expressed more clearly in another remark of his, noting that some time ago (an allusion to Protasov) instances of complete arbitrariness on the part of the Chief Prosecutor were discovered in the Holy Synod (ibid., p. 213; cf. pp. 211–216, 225). Protopresbyter V. B. Bazhanov conveyed Muravyov’s note to Alexander II through the Empress, though this had no practical consequences. Regarding Bazhanov, who held a highly independent position in the Holy Synod (he was a member of the Synod from 1850 to 1883), see: Collection 113, vol. 1, pp. 133–139. A. N. Muravyov’s dream was to become Chief Prosecutor of the Synod (Meshchersky, Memoirs, vol. 1, pp. 180, 321; Kazansky, Correspondence, in: BV, 1904, vol. 1, p. 573).

[700] Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1904. Vol. 1. pp. 572 et al.

[701] This is how V. P. Meshchersky characterizes D. A. Tolstoy (Memoirs, Vol. 2, p. 470); cf. § 7 above and Kazansky, op. cit., p. 572.

[702] Diary of A. V. Gorsky, in: BV. 1914. 10–11. p. 402

[703] On Arseny Moskovin, see his letters: Kiev, Art. 1901, No. 4; V. Pevnitsky, “Memoirs of the Late Metropolitan Arseny,” in: TKDA, 1877, Nos. 8–9; 1878, No. 1; RBS (1900). p. 314; Savva. Chronicle. 4. p. 601. Arsenius’s efforts to carry out school reform (1867–1869) drew criticism from Filaret (Letters to Archbishop Alexius. p. 228).

[704] Agathangel’s *The Captivity of the Russian Church* was not published until 1906. Cf.: Filaret. *Collected Opinions*. 3. p. 78; 2. p. 418; 4, p. 115; idem. Letters to Anthony. 3, p. 78; 4, pp. 337, 332; Savva. 4, pp. 750–753, 811; 8, pp. 651–654.

[705] Porphyry Uspensky. The Book of My Life. Vol. 7, p. 149.

[706] Kirill Naumov… in his letters, in: Russkiye Stтии 1889, vol. 12, p. 87; 1890, vol. 1, p. 131; vol. 4, p. 211; Savva. Chronicle, vol. 7, p. 710; Filaret. Collection of Opinions, vol. 4, p. 406. On Kirill Naumov, see: Titov, F. His Eminence Kirill Naumov. Kyiv, 1902 (also: TKDA, 1899–1901).

[707] This is evident from the reports of the Chief Prosecutor (even prior to Pobedonostsev), which contain laws and decrees in the form of opinions of the State Council, signed by the emperor. This is also frequently found in the laws issued in the 2nd and 3rd Editions of the Code of Laws.

[708] Shmurlo. History of Russia (1922). p. 522; cf.: Pushkarev. Russia in the 19th Century (1956). p. 287; also: Witte. The Reign of Emperor Alexander III. p. 375. As is well known, Alexander III was, by nature, a very conservative man. Pobedonostsev’s influence on him, especially in the early years of his reign (Lamzdorf, V. N., *Diary*. Moscow, 1926. p. 227), is indisputable. Pobedonostsev’s famous speech on March 8, 1881—when the issue of implementing the Constitution signed by Emperor Alexander II (who was assassinated on March 1, 1881) was being discussed—served, in a sense, as a prologue to a new course in the government’s domestic policy. Pobedonostsev passionately urged the new emperor not to implement the Constitution. This urgent appeal resulted in the manifesto of April 29, 1881 (3 PSZ. 1. No. 118). See on this: Perets, E. A., *Diary* (Moscow, 1927). pp. 41–46; Byloe. 1918. 4–5. pp. 162–166; Leontowitsch. Geschichte des Liberalismus in Ru?land. Frankfurt a. M., 1957. pp. 250–254. Pobedonostsev’s speech in: Russkiy Arkhiv. 1907. 5. pp. 103–105; Byloe. 1906. 1. In this connection, Pobedonostsev’s letters of April 1881 to E. F. Tyutcheva are also of interest: Russkiy Arkhiv. 1907. 5. pp. 99–102. See also: Gautier, Yu. V., “The Struggle Among Government Factions and the Manifesto of April 29, 1881,” in: Historical Notes 2 (1938). pp. 240–299. On the relationship between Alexander III and Pobedonostsev, see: Meshchersky. 2–3 (in many places) and Y. V. Gautier, “K. P. Pobedonostsev and the Heir Alexander Alexandrovich,” in: Collection of the Lenin Library, Vol. 2 (1929). Cf. the characterization of Alexander III by V. O. Klyuchevsky: “In Memory of the Late Sovereign Emperor Alexander III.” 1894 (also in: Readings. 1894). On the era of Alexander III, see also: Flourens, E., *Alexander III: His Life, His Work*. Paris, 1894; von Samson-Himmelstijerna, H., *Russia under Alexander III*. Leipzig, 1891 (highly critical).

[709] Letter dated August 12, 1863, to A. V. Gorsky: At the Trinity Church at the Academy (Moscow, 1914). p. 480.

[710] Letters from Veniamin, Archbishop of Irkutsk (d. 1892), to Vladimir, Archbishop of Kazan (d. 1897). Edited by K. V. Kharlamovich, in: Chteniya. 1913. 4. p. 197. See also: Glinsky, B. K. P. Pobedonostsev: Materials for a Biography, in: Istoricheskie Vestniki, 1907, vol. 4, from which it is also evident that Pobedonostsev was a staunch opponent of all reforms.

[711] Letter from November 1905, in: Anthony Khrapovitsky, Metropolitan. Collection of Selected Writings (1936). p. 285 (in Glinsky [see note 455]—in excerpts [p. 32]). Also: Nikon Rklitsky. Biography. Vol. 2, pp. 43–45 (which also discusses Anthony’s views on church and politics); the author of this biography considers the Pobedonostsev era—as well as the conservative politics of that time in general—to be entirely correct and remarkable.

[712] On Vladimir Petrov’s missionary activities, see vol. 2.

[713] For information on Anthony Khrapovitsky, see the four-volume biography by Nikon Rklitsky cited above (note 456). This is not a scholarly study but rather a “biography”; Anthony’s ecclesiastical and political views are positively glorified in it. The metropolitan’s intellect, talent, and other virtues are undeniable. He was the embodiment of a type rare in Russian Orthodoxy—a “prince of the Church”—or, at the very least, he aspired to be one. What a contrast to the modesty of the wise Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov! While extolling monasticism, Anthony himself was very far from the ascetic monastic ideal. Cf. the review of this biography by P. Kovalevsky (Russkaya Mysl. Paris, 1958. No. 1160), in which Anthony Khrapovitsky is assessed more critically. Anthony’s opinion of Chief Prosecutor V. K. Sabler is expressed in one of his letters (albeit dated May 16, 1905, when Sabler had already been removed from his post as Deputy Chief Prosecutor and transferred to the State Council): *Selected Works*. pp. 287–292. See also: Nikon. Biography. Vol. 2. p. 46, where it is emphasized that Anthony held Sabler in high regard; it is unclear whether the author of the biography relied solely on the content of the aforementioned letter or also on other statements by Anthony regarding Chief Prosecutor Sabler (1911–1915). For more on Anthony Khrapovitsky, see §§ 12 and 21 below.

[714] It suffices to trace the life paths of certain bishops (Lists. St. Petersburg, 1896) to see how frequent these transfers were (Savva. Chronicle. 9. p. 200). Although it was Pobedonostsev himself who appointed Leontius of Lebedinsk as Metropolitan of Moscow, in one of his letters to Alexander III he spoke of him very negatively. (Letters. 2. pp. 265, 278). Also: Nikanor. Notes, in: Russ. Arch. 1906. 3. Leontius’s memoirs: My Notes and Recollections (1914) cover only his school years (the 1840s).

[715] Pobedonostsev accused Ioannikiy Rudnev of being under the influence of those around him (Letters. 2. p. 261). Among the bishops, Ioannikiy was highly regarded as an energetic and independent hierarch. He is frequently mentioned by Savva: Chronicle. 8–9. Cf.: PBE. 6. Cols. 771–784.

[716] Bogorodsky, Y. A. “Metropolitan Anthony (Vadkovsky) During the Kazan Period of His Life and Ministry,” in: Prav. Sob. 1913, vol. 2. pp. 263–279; M. B. Anthony, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Ladoga. St. Petersburg, 1915; Dmitrievsky, A. The Late Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg and His Slavophile Views, in: Church News 1912, no. 47. pp. 1910–1920; ibid. “Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg, Who Has Gone to Rest in the Lord, and His Relations with the Orthodox East on Church Matters,” in: Pravoslavnye Sobraniya 1914, vol. 6, pp. 598–606; Metropolitan Anthony. Speeches, Sermons, and Teachings. St. Petersburg, 1912. 3rd ed. For brief biographical information (up to 1900), see: PBE. 1. Cols. 893–904; see also note 458 and § 12, 21.

[717] In addition to his annual reports, Pobedonostsev also organized the preparation and publication of a special “Review of the Activities of the Department of the Orthodox Faith during the Reign of Emperor Alexander III” (St. Petersburg, 1901), in which considerable space was devoted to reports on ecclesiastical and ecclesiastical-political celebrations.

[718] Runkiewicz. The Russian Church in the 19th Century. p. 721. Cf.: Savva. Chronicle. 7. p. 581.

[719] Savva. Chronicle. 7. p. 395 (on the conduct of the Governor-General of Odessa, Baron Ropp); p. 18 (on the conduct of the Governor of Kharkiv, Baron Ukskyul); Evlogiy Georgievsky. p. 107 (on Prince Imeretinsky, Governor-General of Warsaw)—to name just a few examples.

[721] The work by S. S. Oldenburg (The Reign of Emperor Nicholas II. Belgrade, 1939. 2 vols., and Munich, 1941) can be regarded only as a modest beginning to the study of this reign; a concise overview is provided by E. Shmurlo (1922). pp. 531–553. Regarding domestic policy, the memoirs of V. N. Kokovtsov, S. E. Kryzhanovsky, V. I. Gurko, and A. N. Naumov stand out among the extensive body of memoir literature; the memoirs of S. Yu. Witte are often too subjective. On the history of liberal movements and their reflection in the activities of the State Duma, the most valuable works are those by V. A. Maklakov: The First State Duma. Paris, 1939; idem. The Second State Duma. Paris, 1946; Power and Society at the Twilight of Old Russia. Paris, n.d. (ca. 1939); idem, Memoirs. New York, 1954 (not particularly informative). See also the works of Curtiss, Leontowitsch, Pushkareva, and Kovalevsky.

[722] See, for example: Gogel, S., *The Causes of the Russian Revolution of 1917*. Berlin, 1926; Lamzdorf, V. N., *Diary (1886–1890)*. Moscow, 1926; Perets, E. A., *Diary*. Moscow, 1927; Shipov, D. N., Memoirs and Reflections on the Past. Moscow, 1918. A. N. Naumov and, to some extent, V. N. Kokovtsov express similar views. Even in the highest military circles, there were doubts about the soundness of the government’s domestic policy. Regarding the years of Alexander II’s reign, when the shift away from reforms began, see first and foremost the diary of D. A. Milyutin. The first countermeasures undertaken by Alexander III’s government against the reforms of the 1860s—which Pobedonostsev so detested—did not meet with much approval in the highest military circles: Knorring, N. N. General M. D. Skobelev: A Historical Study. Paris, 1939–1940. 2 vols. (especially vol. 2, pp. 181–284); Denikin, A. I. Essays on the Russian Turmoil. Berlin, 1921. Vol. 1.

[723] Aksakov, I. S. Collected Works. Moscow, 1886. Vol. 4, pp. 361–533. His articles on church affairs are also highly characteristic, with the demand for freedom of conscience running through them like a common thread (ibid., pp. 3–328). An important source for assessing public opinion in the second half of the 19th century and in the 20th century up to 1918 are the so-called “thick journals,” each of which represented a distinct political orientation (Pushkarev, *Russia in the 19th Century*, pp. 293, 468).

[724] To understand Nicholas II’s mindset and his policies, one should consult the extensive memoirs of his staff (see notes 466 and 467). The notes of A. N. Naumov, a staunch monarchist but a level-headed and far-sighted man, are particularly revealing; see especially: 2. pp. 214, 233, 246, 522, 533, etc. On Nicholas II, see also: Oldenburg. 1. pp. 37–41, 192; Rodzianko, in: Archives of the Russian Revolution. 17. pp. 26, etc. Nicholas II’s letters and his diary also help to understand his policies and his relationships with ministers and other individuals: Correspondence of Nicholas and Alexandra Romanov. 3–5; Diary of Emperor Nicholas II. Berlin, 1923; Der letzte Zar: Briefwechsel Nikolaus’ II. Berlin, 1938. Other memoirs: Shavelsky. 2 vols.; Danilov, Yu. N. My Memoirs of Emperor Nicholas II and Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich, in: Archives of the Russian Revolution. 1928. 19; Nicholas II and the Grand Dukes, ed. V. P. Semennikov. Moscow, 1925; Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich. Once I Was a Grand Duke. Leipzig, 1932; P. Gillard. The Tragic Fate of Nicholas II and His Family. Paris, 1921 (P. Gillard was the tutor of Tsarevich Alexei); A. Mosolov. At the Emperor’s Court. Riga, 1937 (see also: idem. At the Court of the Last Tsar. London, 1935); Seraphim, E. “Tsar Nicholas II and Count Wittë: A Historical-Psychological Study,” in: HZ. 161 (1939). pp. 277–308. We have cited only the most significant memoirs.

[725] Italics by the author. 3 PSZ. 23. No. 22581.

[726] However, the new Criminal Code, published on March 22, 1903, retained the previous law on the protection of the Orthodox faith (Part 2, Articles 73–98, 301).

[727] See more on this below, in Vol. 2, in the discussion of Russian sectarianism and the government’s measures against it and against non-Orthodox denominations.

[728] Witte. Memoirs: The Reign of Nicholas II. Vol. 1, p. 327.

[729] A. P. Historical Correspondence on the Fate of the Orthodox Church (Moscow, 1912). pp. 7–25; Witte. Op. cit. p. 327; for Pobedonostsev’s reply, see: Kuznetsov (1906). pp. 39–46; cf.: Curtiss, p. 196 ff.; Palmieri (bibliography to Introduction B), pp. 4 ff.

[730] Witte. Op. cit. p. 327; cf.: Titlinov (1924). pp. 11–13.

[731] A. P. Op. cit.; cf.: Smolich. The Pre-Council Assembly of 1906, in: Put’. 38 (Paris, 1932). pp. 65–75; Witte. Op. cit. p. 328; A Collection of Selected Works… by Anton Khrapovitsky (1935). pp. 287–292. This issue will be discussed in detail below in Volume 2 in the section on the reforms, where a more detailed bibliography is also provided.

[732] A. P. Op. cit. pp. 1–6; Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky. Speeches, Sermons, and Teachings. St. Petersburg, 1912. 3rd ed. p. 95; Kuznetsov. pp. 8–10.

[733] Shmurlo (1922). pp. 543–545; Pushkarev. p. 383; Oldenburg. Vol. 1. pp. 277, 339.

[734] Author’s italics. Shmurlo. p. 547; Pushkarev. p. 383; 3 PSZ. 25. No. 26803.

[735] This committee is commonly referred to in the literature as the Pre-Council Assembly.

[736] Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky. Speeches. pp. 95–100.

[737] See the review: Myshchin, V. N., “On the History of the Church Reform Movement,” in: BV. 1905. 6; see also below in vol. 2. As will be shown later, the bishops’ views on the state of the Church were often not merely critical but were expressed in an extremely harsh manner.

[738] Priest G. Petrov resigned from the priesthood in 1907; shortly thereafter, the Holy Synod defrocked K. Kolokoltsov as well. For the sermons of Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky, see: Collection (1935). pp. 215–221, 207–214, 221–225. Cf.: V. V. Rozanov, *Around the Church Walls* (St. Petersburg, 1906). Vol. 2, pp. 401–409.

[739] Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 2nd Convocation. Session 2. Meeting 5. p. 109; Stolypin, P. A. Speeches in the State Duma, 1906–1911. St. Petersburg, n.d. pp. 39, 256; cf. pp. 254, 259, 264.

[740] Stolypin. Op. cit. p. 263; Evlogii. The Path of My Life. p. 195.

[741] Evlogii. Op. cit. p. 195; cf. his speech in the State Duma on March 9, 1912: Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 5. Meeting 90. p. 574; and also, the speech of April 14, 1909: ibid. Session 2. Meeting 94. pp. 2031–2041; cf.: ibid. Meeting 49. p. 1584. Priest D. Mashkevich, a member of one of the right-wing parties, also stated that there were wounds in the life of the Church that required healing (ibid., p. 1607).

[743] Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 5. Meeting 84. pp. 65–77 (V. M. Purishkevich, March 5, 1912); pp. 55–65 (V. N. Lvov); Meeting 94. pp. 2120–2130 (ibid.); cf.: Session 3. Meeting 94 (February 17, 1910). pp. 1597–1606 (B. A. Karaulov); Session 5. Meeting 90 (March 9, 1912). p. 577 (Count A. A. Uvarov). At the 94th session (February 17, 1910), the Social Democratic faction proposed to reject in its entirety the budget of the Holy Synod submitted by Chief Prosecutor S. M. Lukyanov (ibid., p. 1639).

[744] Speech by Bishop Evlogiy Georgievsky on February 9, 1912—ibid. Session 5. Meeting 90. pp. 577–580; cf.: Filosofov, D., “Church Affairs,” in: Yearbook of the newspaper “Rech” for 1913 (St. Petersburg, 1912). pp. 334–350.

[745] Evlogii. The Path of My Life. pp. 187–200, 232. Most of the clergy members in the State Duma were nationalists or right-wingers; only a few priests aligned themselves with the Octobrists and Progressives. Bishop Evlogii of Georgievsk belonged to the nationalist faction, while Bishop Mitrofan of Krasnopolsk belonged to the right wing. The latter’s speeches were particularly politicized; for example, his speech of April 16, 1909 (Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 2. Meeting 95. p. 2228). The Synod’s support for far-right political organizations (the Union of St. Michael the Archangel, the Moscow Society of Banner-Bearers, etc.) provided grounds for attacks on the Synod in the State Duma (for example: ibid. Session 95. p. 2255).

[746] Evlogii. Op. cit. p. 231. The Fourth State Duma included 43 clergymen (Naumov. 2. p. 226). On the strong political bias of various edifying periodicals for the people (“The Russian Monk,” “Pochaev News,” “Pochaev Leaflet,” “Troitsky Leaflets”), see: Evlogii. Op. cit. pp. 246–247. An interesting observation by State Secretary S. E. Kryzhanovsky: “The extreme right wing of this movement adopted almost the same social program and almost the same propaganda methods (for example, *The Pochaev Leaflet*.—I. S.) as those used by the revolutionary parties” (Kryzhanovsky. Memoirs. p. 153). Cf.: Lisenko, S., “The Black Hundreds in the Provinces,” in: Russkiy Mir, 1908, no. 2; Stenographic Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Sessions of March 5 and 12, 1912, p. 854.

[748] On Rasputin, see: Evlogii; Kokovtsov; Shavelsky; Naumov; Beletsky, S. P., “Memoirs,” in: Archives of the Russian Revolution, 12 (1923); Spiridovich, Rasputin. Berlin, 1939; Noetzel, K., Rasputin. Lübeck, 1935; Fulop-Miller, R. *Der heilige Teufel Rasputin und die Frauen*. Berlin, 1927 (highly imaginative); Shakhovskoy, V. N. *Sic transit gloria mundi: Memoirs*. Paris, 1952; Purishkevich, V. M. *The Murder of Rasputin*. Paris, 1923; Trufanov, S. M. (Hieromonk Iliodor). The Holy Devil. Moscow, 1917; Jussupow, E. Rasputin’s End. Berlin, 1928; idem. Memoirs. Leningrad, 1927; Zhevakhov. Memoirs. Vol. 1. pp. 262–264, 309; Rodzyanko. Memoirs. Berlin, 1926; Correspondence of Nicholas and Alexandra Romanov. Vol. 3–4. Almost all authors of memoirs about the pre-revolutionary period write about Rasputin, often in a highly contradictory manner. See the work: Melgunov, S., The Truth About the Separate Peace. Paris, 1957, in which certain issues related to the “Rasputin affair” are convincingly clarified. A selection of materials from memoirs is provided by Seraphim E., *Russische Portrats: Die Zarenmonarchie bis zum Zusammenbruch*. Leipzig, 1943. Vol. 1, pp. 193–212; Vol. 2, pp. 110 ff. (with a detailed bibliography).

[749] Evlogii. The Path of My Life. p. 196.

[750] Oldenburg. Vol. 1, pp. 66, 193, 195, 222, 71–79; Evlogii. Op. cit., p. 197; Rodzianko. Op. cit. pp. 19, 20–64; Shavelsky. 43; cf.: Bok, M. Memoirs of Stolypin (New York, 1953). p. 331.

[751] On the Khlyst sect, see vol. 2.

[752] Evlogii. The Path of My Life. pp. 197–199, 246; Oldenburg. Vol. 2. pp. 71, 77; Filosofov, D. “Church Affairs,” in: Yearbook of the Newspaper “Rech” for 1912. St. Petersburg, 1912. pp. 296–300; ibid., in: Yearbook of the “Rech” Newspaper for 1913. St. Petersburg, 1913. p. 346; Stremoukhov, P. P. “My Struggle with Bishop Hermogenes and Iliodor,” in: Archives of the Russian Revolution. 16 (1925). pp. 5–48; Patrashkin, S., “Iliodor,” in: Russkiy Mir, 1912, no. 3, pp. 134–146; “The Adventures of Iliodor,” in: Byloe, 24 (1924).

[753] Iliodor later published a book against Rasputin: *The Holy Devil*. Moscow, 1917; Evlogii. *Op. cit.*, p. 198; speeches by V. M. Purishkevich (see note 488) and A. I. Guchkov on January 25, 1912; cf.: *Yearbook of the Newspaper “Rech”* for 1913, p. 346; Stremoukhov (note 497); Oldenburg, vol. 2, pp. 86–89; Kokovtsov, vol. 2, p. 19.

[754] Correspondence Between Nikolai and Alexandra Romanov. 3. pp. 215–219; cf. pp. 238, 263, 283, 318, 319–321, 330, 335, 340, 324–327; 4. pp. 37, 44; Melgunov. The Legend. pp. 171, 76. On the empress’s mysticism, see: Zhevakhov. 1. pp. 285, 304–309; Oldenburg. 2. p. 171; Naumov. 2. pp. 4, 298, 306.

[755] Zhevakhov. 1. pp. 115–134, 191 (high praise!); Nicholas’s Correspondence. 3. pp. 401, 392, 398, 407, 435, 437, etc.; 4. pp. 30, 32, 111, 138, 246, 264, 298, etc. Cf.: Shavelsky. 2. pp. 201, 220, 291, 311 (description of the religious views of the tsar and tsarina).

[756] Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 4th Convocation. Session 4. Meeting 26. pp. 2197, 2260; Meeting 27. pp. 2297, 2273, 2331, 2368, 2378; Correspondence of Nicholas. 4. pp. 344, 404, 420, 425; 5. pp. 6, 13, 29, 40, 47, 85–87. Cf.: Denikin. Essays on the Russian Turmoil. 1. p. 44; Golovin, N. N. The Russian Counterrevolution in 1917–1918. Vol. 1, No. 1 (Paris, 1937). p. 24. On the opposition of members of the Holy Synod (except for Metropolitan Pitirim Oknov) to the Chief Prosecutor: Zhevakhov. Vol. 1. p. 182; Rodzjanko. Memoirs. p. 179; Shavelsky. 2. pp. 254, 260 (on Rasputin’s role in the final years before the revolution); Oldenburg. 2. pp. 193–195; Melgunov. The Legend. p. 96. Both of the latter authors dispute the view that Rasputin had a major influence on domestic policy, although the starting points of the monarchist S. S. Oldenburg and the liberal S. M. Melgunov are fundamentally different.

[757] See: Smolitsch. *Russisches Monchtum*, especially Chapters 6 and 8.

[758] AAE. 4. No. 315; cf.: Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. p. 118. The abolition of the Monastic Office in 1677 did not lead to the disappearance of state control; see, for example: AI. 4. No. 166; Milyutin, in: Readings. 1861. 2. p. 505.

[759] PSZ. 3. No. 1664. In 1698, Peter prohibited the founding of new monasteries in Siberia (PSZ. 2. No. 1629).

[760] Runkiewicz (1900) (bibliography for §§ 2–4). p. 27; in Solovyov (15, p. 116) and Gorchakov (op. cit., p. 121), Kurbatov’s letter to Peter is quoted inaccurately.

[761] PSZ. 4. Nos. 1818, 1829; cf. Nos. 1814 and 1886.

[762] Gorchakov. Op. cit., p. 102; see decrees from subsequent years: PSZ. 4. Nos. 1876, 2108; 5. No. 3182; 6. Nos. 3954, 4081. Church administration was particularly hard hit by the transfer of judicial proceedings (except for ecclesiastical cases) to the Monastic Office (PSZ. 4, No. 1834, dated January 24, 1701). Even earlier (1699), all privileges of church estates had been declared invalid (PSZ. 3, No. 1711). Subsequently, new taxes were introduced (for example, on beehives: PSZ. 4, Nos. 1961, 2222), and fishing grounds were confiscated in favor of the state (PSZ. 4, Nos. 1956, 1958, 1995, 2007, etc.), private monastic saltworks were nationalized, and monastic mills were required to turn over 25% of their income to the state (to fund the new army) (PSZ. 4, Nos. 1965, 1966, 1981, 1983), and levies on monastic estates were increased (PSZ. 4, No. 2150).

[763] PSZ. 4. No. 1834; Ivanov, I. Description of the State Archive of Old Cases (Moscow, 1850). Appendix. pp. 344–358. Furthermore, in 1678, the dioceses recorded 107,777 (according to other sources, 107,694) peasant households, which from then on were also under the administration of the Monastic Office (Gorchakov, pp. 90, 95, 121–132).

[764] Gorchakov. Op. cit. pp. 242, 164, 203. Appendices Nos. 10, 11, 6; ibid. On Land Holdings. p. 159; Elagin. History of the Russian Fleet (St. Petersburg, 1864). p. 51; PSZ. 4. Nos. 1926, 2462; 6. 3659; 7. No. 5207; 8. No. 5371.

[765] Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. pp. 163, 242. Appendix. pp. 39–43. Until 1712, many church estates with long-standing tax arrears were confiscated; it was only by decrees dated April 4, 1712, and April 4, 1713, that this practice was abolished (PSZ. 4, No. 2514; 5, No. 2662).

[766] Gorchakov, op. cit., p. 140. The 1707 Table has not survived, and the 1710 Table has survived only in part (ibid., p. 137).

[767] PSZ, vol. 4, no. 1886; Gorchakov, On Land Holdings, p. 473 ff.; Zavyalov. pp. 58–63; some changes in the 1724 Table: PSPiR. 4. Appendix. p. 335. Monks were evicted from three Moscow monasteries, which were then converted into schools (PSPiR. 4. Nos. 1316, 1328, 1284).

[768] Milyukov, P. The State Economy of Russia in the First Quarter of the 18th Century. St. Petersburg, 1905. p. 485.

[769] Table of 1724, in: PSZ, vol. 7, No. 4511 (“Book of Staff Lists”); cf. ibid., Nos. 4426 and 4488; PSPiR, vol. 4, No. 1266. Appendix. pp. 333–335. In 1724, there were 14,534 monks in men’s monasteries and 10,673 nuns in women’s monasteries, for a total of 25,207, including novices (Chudetsky, in: TKDA. 1877. 10. pp. 10, 46). For Peter I’s notes on the 1724 Table, see: Verkhovskaya. Establishment. 2. 2. pp. 124–127.

[770] PSZ. 5. Nos. 3255, 3277; cf.: 6. No. 3659. On the question of jurisdiction: Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. p. 123; Barsov. Synodal Institutions. p. 171.

[772] PSPiR. 1. No. 3. Art. 5; PSZ. 6. No. 3734. Art. 4; 7. Nos. 3749 and 3954.

[773] PSPiR. Vol. 1, Nos. 30, 41, 79, 273; Vol. 3, No. 1007; Vol. 4, Nos. 1187, 1374, 1379, 1438; PSZ. Vol. 7, Nos. 4567, 4632, 4165. The Most Holy Synod repeatedly emphasized the need to submit reports to the relevant state authorities, namely the Staats-Konto and the Chamber College (PSPiR. Vol. 1, No. 313; Vol. 2, No. 583; Vol. 3, No. 990). Only the estates of those diocesan bishops who were members of the Synod were required to submit their reports not to the collegium but to the Synod (ibid., Vol. 1, No. 217; cf., however: Zavyalov, p. 66).

[774] PSPiR, vol. 2, no. 998; PSZ, vol. 7, no. 4152; PSPiR, vol. 3, no. 1156; vol. 4, nos. 1280, 1267, 1304.

[775] Verkhovskaya. Inhabited… Estates. pp. 1, 6; Zavyalov. p. 72; Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. pp. 267, 277.

[776] PSPiR. 1. No. 313; PSZ. 6. No. 3746; 7. Nos. 4450, 4567; Verkhovskoy. Op. cit. pp. 343–345.

[777] PSZ. 7. No. 4488; PSPiR. 4. Nos. 1200, 1202, 1237, 1266. On annual monetary allowances to certain diocesan bishops (of Krutitsy, Tver, Smolensk, and Vologda) ranging from 1,000 to 1,500 rubles, see: PSZ. 4. No. 2215, 2597, 2615; 5. No. 2686.

[778] PSZ. 7. No. 4919; Verkhovskaya. Op. cit. p. 17.

[779] Collection. 57. pp. 100, 365; cf.: Verkhovskaya. Op. cit. p. 24.

[780] PSZ. 7. No. 5005; Collection. 63. p. 696; PSPiR. 5. No. 1907.

[781] PSPiR. 7. No. 2617 (dated October 23, 1732), 2619 (report on arrears to be submitted to the Senate), 2621, 2622, 2624. On the activities of the Board of Economy, see: Verkhovskaya. Op. cit. pp. 64–76.

[783] Popov, Arseny Matseevich, p. 127. Verkhovskaya, op. cit., p. 80. The poll tax introduced by Peter I (PSZ. 6. No. 3854) was more burdensome for peasants on church estates than for those on landowner estates, since the former had to pay an additional 40 kopecks in fees for the administration of church property (Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1864. 1. p. 139). The first census (1717–1726) recorded 5,570,458 registered souls, of whom 752,091 were listed as belonging to church estates (excluding the Pskov Diocese and the holdings of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery) (Milyukov. Op. cit., p. 475). The poll tax, set in 1722 at 80 kopecks, was reduced in 1724 to 74 kopecks, and in 1725—already under Catherine I—to 70 kopecks. (PSZ. 6. No. 3873; 7. 4390, 4650). On fluctuations in the amount of the poll tax during the 18th century, see: Military-Statistical Collection. 4. p. 770.

[786] Cited in: Platonov. Lectures. p. 569; Verkhovskaya. Op. cit. pp. 81–86. Appendix. Nos. 7, 10, 11, 12.

[787] Popov. Op. cit. pp. 28–41.

[788] PSPiR. Vol. 2, No. 691 (with reference to the decree of September 3, 1742: PSZ. Vol. 12, No. 8993), 768, 775, 714. Cf.: Verkhovskaya. Op. cit. p. 89; PSZ. 12. No. 9166.

[789] Zavyalov, p. 86; Verkhovskaya, op. cit., p. 97.

[790] Zavyalov, p. 81; cf. a different point of view expressed by Milyutin (Readings, 1861, vol. 2, p. 541), who, citing several instances of land donations to monasteries, groundlessly assumes that Elizabeth intended to repeal the restrictions on the size of monastic estates introduced by Peter I. On such grants, see: PSPiR. E. P. 3. Nos. 1023, 1101, 1140, 1199.

[791] Zavyalov. p. 82; Popov. pp. 308–312; Verkhovskaya. pp. 64, 76.

[793] Zavyalov. pp. 90–92. Later, in its 1762 report, the Holy Synod, for lack of more precise information, in many cases simply relied on data from 1754 (Zavyalov. p. 12. Appendix. pp. 346–348).

[795] Solovyov. 24. pp. 242, 360, 363; Semevsky. Peasants (1901). 2. pp. 220, 235, 241, 252; The Monks of Solotchinsk, in: Ist. v. 1887. 2.

[796] PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 868 and PSZ. 12. No. 9172 (decrees of Peter I in PSZ. 4. Nos. 1856, 2482; 5, No. 3409; 6, No. 3576; 7, Nos. 4151, 4183, 4426, 4450); under Anna: PSZ. 8. No. 5688; 9. No. 7761, 7843; under Elizabeth: PSZ. 11. No. 8587; 12. No. 9104, 9172; 14. No. 10355, 10684.

[799] Zavyalov. pp. 121, 155–158 and Conclusion. Cf.: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1864. Vol. 1, p. 278.

[800] PSZ. 7. No. 4151 (1723); 7. Nos. 4511, 4608 (1724), 5005 (1727); 10. No. 7791 (1739); 11. No. 8232 (1740).

[802] Ibid. p. 100; cf.: Verkhovskaya. p. 116.

[804] Readings. 1862. 2. p. 21; Ikonnikov, Arseny Matseevich, in: Russian Articles. 1879. 9. p. 3.

[805] Shtelin’s Notes, in: Readings. 1866. 4. p. 103. D. V. Volkov (1718–1789), Peter III’s “private secretary,” wrote to G. G. Orlov on July 10, 1762, while he was briefly under arrest, that he had drafted three decrees, including one concerning monastic estates (D. V. Volkov: Materials for His Biography, in: Russkiye Istoricheskie Stтии 1874. 11. p. 484).

[806] Author’s italics. PSZ. 15. No. 11441 (at the end of the decree, the ban on taking monastic vows is repeated).

[808] The German text erroneously reads “one ruble.”—Ed.

[809] PSZ. 15. No. 11498. A. L. von Schlözer published German translations of the two decrees (Nos. 11441 and 11481) in: I. I. Haigold’s *Beilagen zum Neuveränderten Russland*. Riga, 1769. Vol. 1, pp. 127, 129–146. The decree of March 26, 1762, is missing from the PSZ; see: Russ. Art. 1872, No. 11, pp. 567–568 (text of the decree).

[810] PSZ, vol. 15, no. 14498; Verkhovskaya, op. cit., p. 126.

[812] PSPiR. Vol. II, No. 1, No. 22; cf. Catherine II’s letter to A. P. Bestuzhev-Ryumin, in: Collection. Vol. 7, p. 135.

[813] PSPiR. Vol. II, Part 1. Nos. 37–42, 47, 49, 58, 64, 83; PSZ. Vol. 16. No. 11643.

[814] PSZ. 16. No. 11716; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 76 (instruction dated November 20, 1762).

[815] Ibid.; Zavyalov, pp. 127, 131. The secular members of the commission were: Count I. Vorontsov, Prince A. Kurakin, Prince S. Gagarin, G. Teplov, and Ober-Prosecutor Prince A. Kozlovsky. According to Zavyalov (p. 132), Teplov played the most important role in the commission and was the author of the instructions.

[816] PSZ. 16. Nos. 11745, 11747, 11789; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 95.

[817] PSPiR. Vol. II, Part 1, No. 83, and PSZ. Vol. 16, No. 11730 (decree of January 8, 1763, on the ruble tax). Later, in 1779, Catherine falsely claimed that peasant unrest had ended immediately after the secularization of church estates (Account of the First Years of Her Reign, in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1865. p. 477); cf.: Collection. 27. p. 174; Semevsky. Peasants. 1. 1881. pp. 435–443. On peasant unrest, see: Collection. 10. pp. 32, 37; PSZ. 16. Nos. 11919, 12266, 11869; 17. No. 12796. Semevsky believed that secularization had improved the situation of former monastic peasants (2. 1901. pp. 255, 285).

[818] PSPiR. Vol. II, Book 1, No. 118; PSZ. Vol. 16, No. 11814; Vol. 22, No. 16399.

[819] The activities of the Board of Economy in 1764–1786 have not yet been specifically studied; for some data, see: Zavyalov, pp. 143–151; Barsov, Synodal Institutions, pp. 242–246; Popov, pp. 439, 479–494.

[820] PSZ. 16. No. 12060; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 167.

[821] According to the reference work: N. D. The Nine-Hundredth Anniversary of the Russian Hierarchy: 988–1888. Dioceses and Bishops. Moscow, 1888. p. 88, there were 30 dioceses listed for the year 1764: 4 of the first class, 9 of the second, and 17 of the third. – Ed.

[822] For the Book of States dated February 26, 1764, see: PSZ. 43. 3; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 167. p. 172 ff.

[823] Zavyalov, p. 235; cf. §§ 22, 23.

[825] Popov. p. 477 ff. Letter from Catherine II to Voltaire dated August 11, 1765: Collection. 10. p. 37 (see also her remarks there on Arseny Maceevich’s “arrogance and folly” and his desire to implement the “absurd principle of dual power”: p. 38). For some instances of dissatisfaction with the secularization of monastic estates, see Popov, pp. 495–500.

[826] PSZ. 12. Nos. 16375, 16649, 16650. But as early as November 1764, Catherine II gave Count Rumyantsev, who had been appointed president of the Little Russian Collegium, instructions on how to proceed for the time being with regard to monastic estates in Ukraine (Collection. 7. p. 376). According to rumors, the monks of the Mezhigorsk Monastery—where Catherine wished to attend a divine service during her visit to Kyiv in 1786—expressed their dissatisfaction with the expropriation of the estates by setting fires on the day of her arrival (Rozhdestvensky, F. “Samuil Mislavsky, Metropolitan of Kyiv, in: TKDA. 1877. 4. p. 17).

[827] Zavyalov, pp. 216, 221. For example, the Bishop of Tver now received 5,000 rubles instead of 1,500 rubles under the 1710 Table of Salaries; the Bishop of Ustyug received 4,232 rubles instead of 926 rubles in 1710; and the Bishop of Kazan received 5,500 rubles instead of 2,340 rubles.

[829] Zavyalov, p. 308; PSZ, vol. 18, no. 12925 (1797); Russkaya Arkhivnaya Gazeta, 1882, vol. 2, p. 69. See § 16 below.

[830] PSZ. 16. No. 12271 (1764); Zavyalov. p. 171.

[831] This issue is frequently addressed by A. Zavyalov; cf.: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1864. 1. p. 278; Kuznetsov, in: BV. 1907. 7–10; Pokrovsky, in: Prav. ob. 1876. 3. p. 347.

[832] PSZ. 24. No. 18273. Art. 5; 18950; 26. No. 19370; 25. No. 18090. The sums paid to bishoprics and monasteries under Paul I were increased. The budget, which in 1764–1766 totaled 519,729 rubles, had already risen to 982,598 rubles by 1797 (Klochkov, Op. cit., p. 276). See: PSZ. 24. No. 18273; 25. Nos. 18500, 18531, 18742, 18767, 18888.

[833] PSZ. 28. No. 22785; 31. No. 24246; 36. No. 27622.

[834] 2 PSZ. 3. No. 3323; 14. No. 12458; 13. No. 11518. When new dioceses were established, the bishops’ residences received up to 120 desyatinas of land (Collection. 113. 1. pp. 239, 256, 279, 292). The newly established Don Diocese even received 1,000 dessiatines (ibid., p. 261). Church institutions were also once again permitted to accept arable land as donations or bequests, though only with the highest consent (2 PSZ, vol. 6, nos. 4348, 4814, art. 39). Church institutions (churches, bishops’ residences, monasteries) were prohibited from acquiring estates that were pledged as collateral (2 PSZ, vol. 7, no. 5675). In Western Russia, more lenient regulations were in effect, which encouraged the growth of land ownership and, thereby, the material support of the Orthodox Church (2 PSZ. 2. No. 1001 (1827)).

[835] 2 PSZ. 16. No. 15152, 15153; 18. No. 16828.

[836] 2 PSZ. 16. No. 15152, 15189; cf.: Rostislavov, p. 88.

[837] 2 PSZ. 28. No. 26736; 29. No. 28726; 44. No. 47656; 46. No. 49879; 47. No. 51467; Excerpts… for 1871. pp. 226–229. Based on the State Council’s decision of July 8, 1868, which was approved by the Emperor, the real estate of church institutions that did not generate income (for example, land holdings of rural parish churches) was exempted from zemstvo duties (Circular Decrees of the Holy Synod, ed. Zavyalov. St. Petersburg, 1901, p. 70). In the early 1860s, likely in connection with the emancipation of the peasants, rumors spread that the government intended to once again confiscate those lands belonging to church institutions that had been received or acquired after 1764. Metropolitan Filaret, in a memorandum to the Holy Synod and in a letter to Emperor Alexander II, defended the Church’s right to own and use its lands (Collection of Opinions, vol. 5, no. 1, pp. 231–238, 361–362; cf. vol. 4, p. 436).

[838] Pimen. Memoirs, in: Readings. 1877. 1. pp. 246, 259, 280, 282.

[839] Savva. Chronicle. 5–8 (passim).

[840] Code of Laws (1857). Vol. 8 (“Forest Code”); Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 432–435, 443; Vol. 10, No. 1, pp. 778, 485, 1489; Vol. 10, 2. Art. 346–371; cf. 2 PSZ. 15. No. 16154; 45. No. 48433. Code of Laws (1899 ed.). 9. Art. 443, 435. For a summary of laws and government decrees, see: Zavyalov, A. “Church Lands,” in: PBE. 5. Cols. 686–690; Kalashnikov. pp. 153, 159; Circular Decrees (1901). p. 40.

[841] Kuznetsov, in: BV. 1907. 10. pp. 219–222, 260. The term “undivided land” referred primarily to plots of land held in common by the clergy of a particular church—for example, orchards and vegetable gardens, meadows, and even small tracts of forest—the income from which was shared.

[842] Statistical Yearbook for 1912. St. Petersburg, 1912. pp. 1, 12, 11. According to documents available to the Local Council of 1917–1918, in 1914, 802,436 desiatinas of land were owned by bishop’s estates and monasteries, while 1,409,529 desiatinas were owned by parish and city churches (Persits, M. M. The Great October Revolution and the Separation of Church and State, in: Questions of History. 1954. 11. p. 14).

[843] Kuznetsov, in: BV. 1907. 10. pp. 224, 259, 260 (N. D. Kuznetsov, judging by his speeches, belonged more to the liberal than to the conservative wing of the Pre-Council Presidium). Monastic estates accounted for 0.01% of all land in European Russia, 0.0001% in Asian Russia, and 0.02% across the empire as a whole.

[844] Milasch (see bibliography, general literature). p. 515; Chizhevsky. “On Church Economy,” in: RBE. 5. cols. 880–884; Zavyalov. pp. 7–48.

[845] AI. 5. No. 75; PSZ. 2. No. 898; Nikolaevsky, P. “The Patriarchal Region and Russian Dioceses in the 17th Century,” in: Christian Readings 1888. 1. pp. 181 ff.; Pokrovsky. Russian Dioceses. Vol. 1, pp. 55 ff., 275–279, 318–342. As early as the Local Council of 1667, it was deemed necessary to increase the number of dioceses (DAI. 5. No. 402. pp. 491–493). The Tambov Diocese was abolished again in 1699 (see Table 5).

[846] Pokrovsky. Op. cit., pp. 503–522; idem. “Russian Dioceses in the 18th Century,” in: Prav. sob. 1913, vol. 78, pp. 95–96; Shpachinsky. “Arseny Mogilyansky,” pp. 29 ff.; Verkhovskoy. Inhabited Real Estate Estates (see bibliography for § 10). p. 273; Popov. Arseny Maceevich. p. 60. On the total number of churches in 1799, see: PSZ. 25. No. 19136.

[847] Pokrovsky. Op. cit. 1. pp. 314 ff. On the distribution of churches by diocese in 1903, see: Faith and Reason. 1903. 16. Supplement (Kharkiv Diocese Sheet. pp. 501 ff.).

[848] PSZ. 22. No. 16658; 15. No. 19070; 16. No. 19556; 28. No. 21165; cf. Nos. 18124, 18300, 19156; Dobroklonsky. 4. § 17. According to Golikov (The Acts of Peter the Great, Vol. 9, p. 179), Peter intended to consolidate all dioceses into five metropolitan regions. See on this: Verkhovskaya. The Establishment. Vol. 1, p. 609. A similar project arose during the reign of Alexander I (Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2, p. 162). In the early 1860s, Filaret pointed out the urgent need to create new dioceses (Collection of Opinions. Vol. 5, p. 117; Sushkov. Notes on the Life and Times of Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow. Moscow, 1868. pp. 194–198).

[850] PSPiR. E. P. 2. Nos. 171, 660, 692; Pokrovsky, in: Prav. sob. 1913. 78. p. 96; ibid. Russian Dioceses. Vol. 2. p. 68; PSZ. Vol. 20. No. 14248; Barsov. Synodal Institutions. pp. 81 ff., 125; Historical and Statistical Survey of St. Petersburg. Vol. 5. p. 187; Rozanov. Vol. 1, No. 1. pp. 18–37; Popov. Arseny Maceevich. pp. 22, 25. When the Moscow Diocese was established, only a portion of the former Synodal Region was allocated to it. The following dioceses were formed in the remaining territory: Vladimir (1748), Kostroma (1744), Pereyaslavl-Zalessky (1744), and Tambov (1758) (Razanov, Vol. 1, Part 1, pp. 33–37; Pokrovsky, Vol. 2, p. 368). St. Petersburg and several neighboring cities (Vyborg, Narva, Yamburg, Shlisselburg, Koporye) constituted a separate ecclesiastical-administrative region in 1708–1711, which was formally subordinate to the Archbishop of Novgorod. In 1712, Peter I appointed Feodosy Yanovsky, who had recently been appointed archimandrite of the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, as its “administrator.” Established in 1742, the Diocese of St. Petersburg covered a relatively small territory consisting of the aforementioned region, previously governed by an administrator, and part of the Diocese of Novgorod. In 1775, the Diocese of Novgorod was also placed under the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of St. Petersburg (at that time, Gabriel Petrov). From 1783 onward, Gabriel bore the title of Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg. The former Diocese of Novgorod was not restored until 1892 (Pokrovsky, in: Prav. sob. 1913. 78. p. 96 ff.).

[851] As early as 1744, the Holy Synod had attempted to secure a similar decree from Empress Elizabeth, but the pious empress, for some reason, did not heed its requests (PSPiR. E. P. 2. Nos. 699, 747, 899). Catherine II knew that the bishops, preoccupied with the “idea of social classes,” were seeking to divide the dioceses according to rank, and, by accommodating them in this matter, she evidently wished to “sweeten” the process of secularization.

[852] PSZ. 16. No. 12060; 44. Part 2. Sect. 3. pp. 24–31 (Book of Staff Lists); PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 167; Zavyalov. p. 218. For the staff lists of the Little Russian dioceses, see: PSZ. 22. No. 16375.

[853] PSZ. 15. No. 12183; 20. No. 14366; 22. No. 15910; Pokrovsky, in: Prav. sob. 1913. 78. pp. 159–163; Titov. The Russian Orthodox Church in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. K., 1905. Vol. 2. pp. 61–64. On the new dioceses in the former Polish regions, see: PSZ. 22. Nos. 16173, 16174, 16512, 16516, 16658; 16. Nos. 12060, 12182; additionally: PSZ. 19. Nos. 13921, 14121; 20. Nos. 14499, 14603; 23. No. 17289. On the renaming of dioceses and the distribution of parishes, see: Pokrovsky, in: Prav. sob. 1913. 78. pp. 60 ff.; ibid. 2. pp. 458, 482 ff., 544–554, 564 ff., 839 ff.; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. 3. p. 93 ff. When the Azov coast came under Russian rule in 1774, Mariupol was the seat of the “Metropolitan of Gothia” (of Mariupol and Crimea), a position held at that time by Metropolitan Ignatius, who was under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople. Both Ignatius himself and the Greeks living in the region—mostly merchants—assumed Russian citizenship in 1779. Ignatius remained the diocesan bishop but was placed under the authority of the Holy Synod. After his death in 1786, the Synod abolished the “Greek diocese” and placed the local parishes under the jurisdiction of the Bishop of Yekaterinoslav. In Mariupol, however, only a vicar bishop remained, who administered the territory of the former diocese (PSZ. 20. No. 14879; 22. No. 17612).

[854] PSZ. 25. No. 18712, 19070, 19156; 26. No. 19721, 20007; 31. No. 24696. On the Georgian Exarchate, see: Bishop K[irion]. A Brief Survey of the History of the Georgian Church and the Exarchate. Tiflis, 1901.

[855] Materials in: Collection. 113. 1. p. 399 et al.; Report of the Chief Prosecutor for 1825–1850, in: Collection. 98. pp. 457–460.

[857] On the Russian Diocese in North America, see Vol. 2.

[858] See: The Most Humble Reports of the Chief Prosecutor… for 1867–1914. St. Petersburg, 1868–1916; Lists of Bishops (see bibliography for § 6). The establishment of new dioceses and vicariates was carried out by imperial decree; these decrees were published in the PSZ. See Table 5.

[859] On the history of diocesan administration, see: Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations; Grigorovich. Overview of the Institution; Rozanov; Chizhevsky; Ivanovsky; Kalashnikov; Materials, in: Collection. 113; Nechaev; Pokrovsky. Resources; see also the descriptions of dioceses cited in the bibliography and Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 105–122.

[860] Milasch. pp. 351 ff., 372–386.

[861] Bishops knew how to exercise their authority over their subordinates, but they felt powerless in the face of the church leadership. Sergius Stragorodsky spoke about the position of bishops before and after the establishment of the Holy Synod: “Previously, under conciliar governance, no matter how rarely a bishop might attend the Councils, he was still considered an indispensable member of the Council, had the right to vote, could send a representative, could present his opinion, and so on. Central authority, while remaining, of course, an authority, was not an external authority for him, because he, too, considered himself a participant in that authority. The Synod, however, has positioned itself directly as an unconditional, almost unquestionable authority over every representative of the Russian hierarchy. A diocesan bishop may be present at the Synod only when summoned. They might occasionally ask for his opinion, or send him some complicated case for review… But there can be no question here of participation in authority or of the right to such participation. Central authority, thus, emerged from the diocesan authority as a completely distinct body, acting without appeal by the sovereign’s decree. As we can see, a radical change took place; one might say that the very spirit of church governance was transformed” (Minutes of the Meetings of the Council of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy for 1901–1903, in: Christian Readings 1902, no. 2, p. 201 ff.).

[862] On the structure of diocesan administration, see Rozanov’s work, which examines the period 1721–1821. It was not until the mid-19th century that the number of diocesan institutions began to increase (parish schools, deanery assemblies, and others were added), but the methods by which diocesan bishops administered them—and, most importantly, the principles and spirit of these methods—remained unchanged. The daily routine of a diocesan bishop is well described in the memoirs of Archbishops Nikanor Brovkovich and Savva Tikhomirov, as well as Metropolitan Evlogii Georgievsky; see § 12, and also: Pokrovsky. Kazan and the Kazan Diocese, in: PBE. 7. Cols. 698–792 (a very instructive description of the structure of the diocese around 1905); Chizhevsky. p. 8 ff.

[863] Nikanor. Notes, in: Russ. Arch. 1906. 3. p. 25.

[864] Znamensky. Parish Clergy, in: Prav. Sob. 1872. 2. p. 297 ff.; see § 6.

[865] Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 284–285. Savva describes just how dangerous a consistory secretary could be to a diocesan bishop: Chronicle. 4. pp. 34 ff., 401 ff., 419.

[866] Materials, in: Collection. 113. Vol. 2, pp. 61 ff. (on audits in several dioceses), 340 ff. (on the emperor’s reprimands to bishops), 371–383 (on punishments).

[867] On vicar bishops, see: Milasch. pp. 388 ff.

[869] Metropolitan Platon of Moscow wrote special instructions for his vicar (Rozanov. 3. 1. pp. 213–216). In 1905, Archbishop Jacob of Yaroslavl pointed out the uncertainty regarding the status of vicars (Otzyvy. 3. Supplement. p. 221). See: Berdnikov (1888), p. 337.

[870] Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. pp. 112–125; cf.: Milasch. pp. 351 ff., 297 ff.; Nechaev (1890). pp. 55 ff.

[871] Rozanov. 1. 1. pp. 18, 29–35; Shimko. Patriarchal Order, in: Description of the Archive of the Ministry of Justice. 10. pp. 1–78; PSPiR. 1. No. 42, 88; 2. No. 1041; ODDS. 1. No. 264; PSZ. 10. No. 7679; 9. No. 6718; 19. No. 14187; 22. No. 16688; 38. No. 29045; 2 PSZ. 43. No. 45625; Nechaev (1890). p. 49 ff.

[872] Acts of Southern and Western Russia. Vol. 6, No. 30; PSZ. Vol. 2, Nos. 1198, 1199; Makariy. Vol. 12, pp. 11 ff., 539–591; Kharlamovich. pp. 3–7, 497–503; Titov. Vol. 1, No. 1. pp. 54 ff., 69 ff., 99; 2. 1. pp. 284, 285, 323. The issue of the subordination of the Kyiv Metropolis and the anti-Moscow sentiments of a certain segment of the Ukrainian clergy is discussed in detail by Einhorn (see here and in Kharlamovich—extensive bibliography). The idea of subordinating the Kyiv Metropolis to the Patriarch of Moscow arose in Moscow as early as 1622 (Einhorn, p. 1074). A staunch opponent of this idea was Gedeon’s successor, Metropolitan Varlaam of Yasinsk (Titov, 2. 1. p. 323). The violation of the rights of the Kyiv metropolitans reached its peak in 1721, when the Pechersk Monastery, the metropolitan’s archimandrite seat, was placed under the direct authority of the Holy Synod (Kharlampovich, p. 493).

[873] Pokrovsky. Russian Dioceses, in: Collection of Laws, 1913. Vol. 1, p. 126 ff.; Vol. 2, p. 37 ff.; Titov, Vol. 2, No. 1, p. 54; Parkhomenko. An Outline of History, p. 3 ff. Metropolitan Varlaam Vanatovich (1722–1730) attempted in 1727 to persuade Peter II to restore the privileges of the Kiev bishops (Rybalovsky, P., “Varlaam Vanatovich,” in: TKDA, 1908, Vol. 2, pp. 441 ff.).

[874] PSPiR. E. P. 1. No. 386; Pokrovsky, in: Prav. sob. 1913. 1. p. 147.

[875] Pokrovsky. Op. cit. pp. 147–150; Titov. 2. 1. pp. 1 ff., 69 ff., 79 ff.

[876] Shpachinsky. pp. 115–136; Graevsky. Metropolitan Timofey Shcherbatsky, in: TKDA. 1910. No. 3. p. 940 (on the period up to 1757); Znamensky. Parish Clergy, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. pp. 299 ff., 338 ff., 381.

[877] Collection. 43. pp. 433–597; cf.: Shpachinsky. pp. 481 ff. As early as 1764, that is, before the commission was convened, the Ukrainian nobility submitted a petition to Catherine requesting the restoration of their former privileges, which, beginning in the time of Peter the Great, had been gradually abolished. The petition expressed a desire to obtain the right to elect candidates for the Kyiv Metropolis and the abbots of the largest monasteries in Ukraine themselves. It also requested the restoration of the clergy’s former rights, with the exception of the right to acquire land holdings—this last point resembles similar demands made by Moscow’s service class in the 17th century. (Shpachinsky, p. 288).

[878] PSZ. 21. No. 15835; 26. No. 19721, 20007; 31. No. 24696, 25709; 35. No. 26858, 26859, 27605; 2 PSZ. 40. No. 42599; 44. No. 47286; 48. No. 52276; Chistovich. Leading Figures. pp. 84–112; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 27 ff. In Georgia, there had long existed a clergy that originated from serfs and retained its legal status even after ordination; by a decree of July 7, 1808, such clergymen were declared free (PSZ. 30. No. 23146). On the history of relations between Georgia and Russia during the reign of Catherine II, see: Letters and Other Historical Documents Relating to Georgia, ed. Tsagereli. St. Petersburg, 1898. Vol. 2, Part 1; Nolde, B., La formation (see bibliography for Introduction A). Vol. 2. pp. 364–387. On the subordination of the Georgian Church to the Holy Synod, see: Bishop Kirion; PBE. 4. Cols. 717–750; O. Lototsky. Autocephaly (Warsaw, 1938). 2. pp. 31 ff. (bibliography); Janin, R. “Georgie,” in: DTC, vol. 4, cols. 1239–1289 (bibliography); Tamarati, M. *L’Église géorgienne*. Rome, 1910; Rev. Theophylact Rusanov, in: *VE*, 1873, nos. 11–12. On Ion Vasilievsky, see: Collection. 113. 1. pp. 75–87; on Pavel Lebedev: Nikanor. Notes, in: Russ. Arch. 1906. 3. pp. 5–35; on Nikon: L. Sofiysky (see bibliography for § 12); Ist. v. 1908. Vol. 113. p. 379. The question of the autocephaly of the Georgian Church was raised by the Pre-Council Assembly of 1905–1906: Reviews. 3. pp. 134–143, 505–526 (opinions of Professor I. I. Sokolov and Bishop Leonid of Imereti in favor of restoring autocephaly); cf. ibid. (pp. 527–536) a note by F. Jordan: “Brief Historical Information on the Autocephaly of the Georgian Church.” On the emergence of autocephaly in 1917, see: Tarchnisvili, M., “L’Église géorgienne et la Russie: Une lettre du catholicos Léonide au patriarche Tikhon,” in *Echos d’Orient*. 1932. pp. 350–369; idem. “The Origin and Development of Ecclesiastical Autocephaly in Georgia,” in: Kyrios. 5. 1940–41. pp. 177–193; Lototsky. Op. cit. pp. 40 ff.

[879] ODDS. 2. No. 156, 508; 5. No. 144; PSZ. 7. No. 4190; 12. No. 8988; PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 633, 667; Rozanov. 2. 1. pp. 22 ff., 40 ff.; Barsov. Collection of Current Decrees. pp. 155–161; Zavyalov. pp. 196 ff.; cf. Ispolatov, in: PBE. 12. col. 834 ff.; Znamensky, in: Legal Collection 1872. 2. pp. 298, 308–314; Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 17–18.

[880] PSZ. 18. Nos. 13124, 13163; 20. No. 14813; 21. No. 15153; 24. No. 18273. Art. 2; PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. Nos. 428, 450, 890; PSPiR. Vol. I, No. 36; Rozanov. Vol. 2, No. 2, p. 114; Vol. 3, No. 1, p. 36. Cf.: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. Vol. 2, pp. 308–310.

[881] Znamensky. Guide (1872). p. 458.

[882] See: Journals of the Council of the Moscow Theological Academy for 1910. p. 198: review of N. Sakharov’s work “Sources of the Statutes of the Ecclesiastical Consistories of 1841 and 1883,” in: BV. 1910. 11. Suppl.

[883] According to Paul I’s decree of December 18, 1797, half of the members were to consist of persons belonging to the white clergy (PSZ. 24. No. 18273. Art. 6). Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov was of the opinion that all members of the consistories should be exclusively of monastic rank (Collection of Opinions, 1832, Vol. 2, p. 310).

[884] Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories, in: 2 PSZ, vol. 16, No. 14409; separate editions: 1841, 1883, 1896. Regarding the above, see the 1883 edition, Articles 1, 2, 278–364, as well as: Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. p. 126 ff.

[885] Letters of Metropolitan Filaret, in: Readings. 1870. 3. p. 161. Cf. similar complaints by Archbishop Nikanor: Russian Arch. 1909. 6. p. 236, and from Savva: Chronicle. 6. p. 5 ff. By the time the latter arrived in Tver in 1879, the consistory was registering more than 6,000 incoming documents annually.

[886] 2 PSZ. 43. No. 45341; 44. No. 46899; Review… of Alexander III. p. 111 ff.

[887] 2 PSZ. 52. No. 55863; Review… of Alexander III. p. 90 ff. On the routine and slowness in processing cases right up to the end of the Synodal period, see: Teodorovich. On the 40th Anniversary of Pastoral Ministry: Memoirs. Warsaw, 1935. 2. pp. 110 ff.; Verbatim Record of the State Duma of the 4th Convocation. Session 27 (February 26, 1916). p. 2280 (speech by Priest Alferov).

[888] PSPiR. 2. No. 482; ODDs. 2. 1. No. 524, 379; PSPiR. 2. No. 596; PSZ. 10. No. 7749; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. p. 316 ff.; Rozanov. 1. pp. 24 ff., 58 ff.

[889] G. I. Dobrynin provides many interesting details about the daily life of the bishop’s close associates and, more generally, his entire “entourage” in the 18th century (see bibliography for §§ 13–16); also: Shpachinsky (bibliography for § 8), I. S. Belyustin, and A. Dianin (bibliography for §§ 13–16); Nikanor. Biographical Materials. 1 (Chapter 1). See § 12 below.

[890] PSZ. 3. No. 1612 (decree of Patriarch Adrian); Spiritual Regulations. Part 2: On Bishops. Paragraph 8; PSPiR. 5. No. 1937; PSZ. 7. No. 4190; Rozanov. 1. pp. 62 ff., 89. On the tithe collectors: Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws 1872. 2. pp. 311–313; I. A. The Church of the Nativity of Christ in Sergiev Posad, in: Readings. 1911. 3. p. 63. Patriarch Adrian had already referred to parish elders as “deanery overseers”: PSZ. 3. No. 1694; 6. No. 3870; 7. No. 4190. Art. 20, 22; 10. No. 7450.

[891] Rozanov. 2. 1. pp. 48, 89–93; Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. pp. 163–166; Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws. 1872. 2. p. 313 ff.; PSZ. 24. No. 17958; 28. No. 21775; 38. No. 29711. Metropolitan Samuel Mislavsky of Kyiv also compiled instructions for deans after 1783 (Rozhdestvensky, F. “Samuel Mislavsky,” in: TKDA. 1877. Vol. 2, p. 23). In 1866, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov opposed the election of deans (Collection of Opinions. 5. 2. pp. 809–811). Teodorovich, T. Contemporary Tasks of the Orthodox Parish. Warsaw, 1907. pp. 39 ff. (in defense of the principle of the election of deans).

[892] 2 PSZ. 1. No. 694; 3. No. 2470. Art. 1; 11. No. 8953; Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Arts. 65–67; Samuilov, in: PBE. 2. Cols. 683–711.

[893] Archimandrite Meletius. The Ecclesiastical Council in Tobolsk under Metropolitan Philotheus (1702), in: Prav. sob. 1875. 1. pp. 434–461; decisions of the Council—ibid. pp. 451–461.

[894] PSZ. 24. No. 18273; Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 64; for the 1797 instruction, see: Barsov. p. 162. See also § 23 below.

[895] 2 PSZ. 40. No. 42742; Barsov. pp. 189–200.

[896] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2. pp. 91, 93–107; Barsov. pp. 177–189; PSZ. Vol. 39, No. 29853; 2 PSZ. Vol. 2, No. 1145; Vol. 53, No. 58132; Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 80. See the 1912 edition (ed. M. N. Palibin) for later legal provisions regarding the support of widows and orphans. See also § 16 below.

[897] Runkevich. History of the Russian Church in the 19th Century. St. Petersburg, 1901. p. 640; Chizhevsky. p. 19.

[898] On parish schools, see Vol. 2, as well as: Chizhevsky, pp. 20–22.

[899] For diocesan and parish brotherhoods, see Vol. 2.

[900] On the history of bishops’ residences in the 18th century, see: Pokrovsky. The Kazan Bishops’ Residence. Kazan, 1906; Popov. Arseny Maceevich (1912); Shpachinsky; Zavyalov (see bibliography for § 10). Pp. 190 ff.

[901] Zavyalov. Op. cit. pp. 208 ff.; Popov. Op. cit. p. 99; Pokrovsky. The Kazan Bishop’s Residence. pp. 372–381.

[902] Popov. p. 127; cf. §§ 15–16.

[903] Zavyalov. pp. 208 ff., 220 ff.; PSZ. 15. No. 11481. Art. 5; see § 10 above.

[904] Bishop’s House, in: PBE. 2. Cols. 45–47; Statute of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 104–117; in Palibin’s 1912 edition, which takes into account subsequent legislative provisions, pp. 45–48.

[905] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 45341; Excerpts… for 1867. pp. 161–164.

[907] 3 PSZ. 23. No. 23559; Stenographic Record of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 4, Meeting 23. pp. 2379 ff. As early as 1909, diocesan administrations received about 20 types of various financial contributions from parishes, and monasteries remitted one-third of their income to the diocesan administrations (ibid., Session 2, Meeting 94, p. 2091).

[908] See Table 6, which compiles statistical data from the reports of the chief prosecutors. Due to space constraints, it was not possible to present these data for each year.

[909] Zavyalov, pp. 299, 347; Titlinov, The Government of Anna Ioannovna. p. 220; PSZ. 115. No. 19156; Collection. 113. 1. p. 5; Report… of the Chief Prosecutor (various years); Preobrazhensky (see bibliography for Introduction B). Cf. Table 6.

[910] Znamensky. Parish Clergy. Kazan, 1873. p. 114.

[911] PSZ. 4. No. 2352; 5. No. 3171; 7. Nos. 4186, 4249. Art. 1, 4988; 5. No. 2985. Art. 4; Ecclesiastical Regulations. On Laypeople. Art. 7–9; On Bishops. Art. 8. Peter’s decrees were confirmed by Empress Elizabeth (PSZ. 14. No. 10780). In 1762, Catherine II permitted the establishment of house churches (PSZ. 16. No. 11643), but in 1774 they were banned again (PSZ. 19. No. 13625).

[912] PSZ. 20, No. 14807; cf.: 19, Nos. 13541, 14144; 18, No. 12925; 22, No. 16411; 26, No. 19572 (1800). According to the report of the Holy Synod for 1774, there were 20,907 churches in 32 dioceses, of which 19,555 were parish churches serving 2,262,976 households; by 1784, there were already 21,141 churches serving 2,699,232 households (Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov, pp. 619, 633).

[913] 2 PSZ. 3. No. 1802; 5. No. 4047. Art. 12 and 16; 17. No. 16401; 18. No. 16405; Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 45–61.

[914] 2 PSZ. 33. No. 33253; 40. Nos. 42348, 42327; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 152–156; Report… for 1885. p. 206 ff.; Pobedonostsev. Letters. Vol. 2. pp. 69 ff. See also: Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 2nd Convocation. Session 4, Meeting 45. pp. 708 ff.

[915] PSZ. Vol. 5, No. 3169; Vol. 6, No. 4052, Art. 2; Spiritual Regulations. Part 2: On Lay Persons. Arts. 4–6.

[916] PSZ. 10. No. 7226. Under Catherine II, the forms were simplified (PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 168; PSZ. 16. No. 12601).

[917] Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Articles 16, 260, 266, 192, 193, 270–274.

[918] Code of Laws. Vol. 10, Part 1, Art. 35; Vol. 9, Arts. 359–379.

[919] See: Nechaev (1890). p. 332 ff.

[920] Stoglav. Articles 53–67; Code of 1649. Chapter 13. Article 1. This provision was often not enforced; see, for example: AAE. 4. No. 176; AI. 3. No. 232 (1643); 5, No. 93; Acts of the Council of 1666–1667, in: PSZ 1, No. 412, Ch. 2; Council of 1675, in: AAE 4, No. 204; PSZ 2, No. 711.

[922] PSZ. 4. Nos. 1818, 1829, 1876, 1823.

[923] PSZ. 4. No. 3761, 4113; PSPiR. 1. No. 64, 75, 105, 312; 2. No. 349, 596, 865, 880; 3. No. 940, 994.

[924] PSZ. 7. No. 4145; 16. No. 12606; 23. No. 16986, 17529; 31. No. 24239, 24535; 32. No. 25240; 38. Nos. 29477, 29711; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 303.

[925] PSPiR. 2. No. 532, 693; Vladimirsky-Budanov (1888). pp. 308 ff., 358, 375, 439; Berdnikov. A Brief Course (1888). pp. 178–217. See § 6.

[926] PSPiR. 5. No. 1933; PSZ. 8. No. 5818; 11. No. 8543; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. pp. 95–109; PSZ. 11. No. 8548, 8566, 9079; 14. No. 10293; 15. No. 10938.

[927] PSPiR. Vol. II, Part 1, No. 248; PSZ. Vol. 17, No. 12433; Vol. 21, No. 15379; Vol. 23, No. 17505; Vol. 18, No. 13334; Vol. 20, No. 14356.

[928] PSZ, Vol. 6, Nos. 3798, 3814; PSPiR, Vol. 1, Nos. 110, 151; 2 PSZ, Vol. 8, No. 6406; Vol. 40, No. 42345; Code of Laws, Vol. 10, Part 1, Articles 67–74; Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 26, 27; cf.: Berdnikov. Op. cit. pp. 59 ff., 119 ff.; Krasnozhen, M. Fundamentals of Ecclesiastical Law. Yuryev, 1911. pp. 121–143 (on the period after 1905).

[929] PSZ. 19. No. 14225; Code of Laws. 10. 1. Art. 3–4; Nechaev (1890). pp. 204 ff.; Berdnikov. Op. cit. pp. 119 ff.; PSZ. 3. No. 1612; 12. No. 9087; 2 PSZ. 5. No. 3807; 20. No. 19283. Art. 2054, 2064; 21. No. 20491.

[930] PSZ. 31. No. 24235, 24091; Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 2. pp. 171, 175, 183–188, 235, 268–273. Pobedonostsev ensured that church rules regarding marriage were not violated (Pobedonostsev. Letters. 2. pp. 34–35).

[931] PSZ. 6. Nos. 3628, 3963; 7. No. 4190; 8. No. 5655; 18. No. 12935; 31. Nos. 24091, 24360; Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Articles 205–257. The archives of the Moscow Consistory contain numerous divorce cases involving “noble persons” from the 1740s (Rozanov, Vol. 2, Part 1, p. 32).

[932] Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883).

[933] Barsov, T. “On Legal Proceedings Concerning Misconduct and Crimes Subjecting Clergy to Secular Courts,” in: Christian Readings 1875, No. 6, pp. 451, 474, 477; Code of Laws (1876), Vol. 15, Part 2, Articles 1019–1027.

[934] Ecclesiastical Regulations. Part 2. Art. 16; PSZ. 19. No. 13500; 20. No. 15029; Code of Laws (1876). 15. 2. Arts. 1010–1016.

[935] Nikanor. Notes, in: Russian Archives 1908, 1; Proceedings of the Kazan Council, in: Legal Collection 1885, 4; Runkevich. History of the Russian Church in the 19th Century. St. Petersburg, 1901, p. 723; Report… for 1908–1909. pp. 181–185. We will discuss this further in Volume 2, when we address the struggle against sectarianism and missionary activity.

[936] Stefan Yavorsky’s point of view has already been presented. A critical stance was also taken by Metropolitan Dimitri Tuptalo of Rostov and, in particular, by Arseny Maceevich (see § 8) (Kharlamovich. Little Russian Influence. Vol. 1. pp. 466–468, 261 ff.); on the consequences of the preference shown toward Little Russian hierarchs from the beginning of the 18th century, see ibid., p. VII ff.

[937] Stefan Yavorsky, Theodosius Yanovsky (from Belarus), Anthony Stakhovsky, Hilarion Rogalevsky, Benjamin Puczek-Grigorovich, Sylvester Kulyabka, Joseph Volchansky, Pachomius Simansky, and others were of noble descent. (Kharlamovich, op. cit., p. 468, note). According to other sources, Stefan Yavorsky came from a family of merchant burghers (Chistovich, Theophan Prokopovich [1868], p. 387).

[938] The notion of a bishop’s unlimited authority over the parish clergy under his jurisdiction emerged in Ukraine even before the 18th century. It was already championed by Metropolitan Peter Mohyla of Kyiv, who sought thereby to counter the influence of Orthodox brotherhoods. This was reflected in the preface to the *Trebnik* in the 1646 edition. (Suvorov. Textbook. 1913. p. 114 ff.; Golubev, S. T. Metropolitan Peter Mohyla of Kyiv and His Associates. Kyiv, 1898. Vol. 2, Supplement No. 23 [Peter Mohyla’s Epistle on Episcopal Authority]). Polish-Catholic influence also played a significant role in this (Kharlamovich. Op. cit., p. 5). On the extremely cruel treatment of the clergy, see: Kharlamovich. Op. cit., Chapters 5, 9; Runkevich. History of the Russian Church under the Administration of the Holy Synod. Vol. 1. pp. 2–16. It goes without saying that in Great Russia, too, there were bishops who treated the clergy under their authority with arrogance and cruelty (Titov, A. “Joseph, Archbishop of Kolomna,” in: Readings. 1911. 3).

[939] Acts and Documents of the Kyiv Academy. 1906. 3. p. 43. In conservative circles in Great Russia, Ukrainians were viewed with suspicion even regarding the purity of their faith. These doubts, caused primarily by the Union of 1596, were further intensified by the fact that the scandalous circumstances surrounding the lives of, say, Stefan Yavorsky or Theophan Prokopovich were well known in Moscow. Similar views about Ukrainians were widespread in the Eastern Churches (Kapterev, N. F. Relations of the Patriarchs of Jerusalem with the Russian Government from the Mid-16th to the End of the 17th Century. St. Petersburg, 1895. p. 350; Smolitsch, in: OS. (1956). 5. p. 48).

[940] Chief Prosecutor Y. P. Shakhovskoy emphasizes Empress Elizabeth’s favorable attitude toward Ukrainian bishops, attributing it to Razumovsky’s influence (Shakhovskoy. Notes (1872). p. 57). Peter, who favored the Ukrainian clergy for their education, was the first to appoint Little Russians to leadership positions in Great Russia. His decree of June 18, 1700 (PSZ. 4, No. 1800) regarding candidates for the ecclesiastical mission to China became, in a certain sense, the main prerequisite for strengthening Ukrainian influence in church administration. It was only Elizabeth who, by her decree of April 30, 1754, demanded that Great Russians also be appointed to the positions of archimandrites and bishops (PSZ. 14. No. 10216); cf. the report of the Holy Synod dated August 28, 1749 (PSPiR. E. P. 3. No. 1121), which may have led to this decree. Prior to 1754, approximately 70 bishops were Ukrainians (Kharlamovich, op. cit., pp. 488–490). According to Kharlamovich, Dimitri Sechenov and Gedeon Krinovsky consciously and systematically favored Great Russians (p. 461). However, it should be noted that in the first half of the 18th century, there were also bishops of Serbian, Greek, and Romanian origin, for example, Athanasius Kondoidi (Greek), Ambrose Zertis-Kamensky (Romanian, in Moscow in 1768–1771), Peter Smelich (Serb). In any case, the list of bishops from the early 1730s contains very few Great Russian names; cf.: Titlinov. The Reign of Anna Ioannovna. P. 183 ff.

[941] Znamensky. Lectures on History, in: Collected Works. 1875. Vol. 1. pp. 401 ff.; idem. Parish Clergy (1873). pp. 616 ff. Between 1763 and 1774, 22 bishops were consecrated, of whom only 5 were Ukrainians (Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2).

[942] To understand the activities and mindset of bishops who came from scholarly monastic circles, their own letters and memoirs are of primary importance; the study of other biographical material also provides valuable insight. See: Nikanor. Biographical Materials; idem. Letters; idem. Notes (see bibliography for § 9); additionally: Gilyarov-Platonov, N. P. Works. 1899. Vol. 2, pp. 451–455 (on Fyodor Bukharev).

[943] Kharlamovich (op. cit., pp. 633 ff.) provides a virtually exhaustive list of learned monks from Ukraine who served as rectors, prefects, and instructors at theological educational institutions in Great Russia.

[946] Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov. p. 46. Gedeon Krinovsky was consecrated as a bishop at the age of 31, Ambrose Podobedov at 33, Gavriil Petrov at 34, and Platon Levshin at 33. The same pattern is observed in the 19th century (see below).

[948] Nikanor. Biographical Materials. Vol. 1, p. 140. Gilyarov-Platonov, also a professor at the Moscow Academy, refers to the tonsure of young students as monks as “premature sacrifice” (Works. Vol. 2, p. 452).

[949] Florovsky (p. 340) sees nothing in the activities of scholarly monks other than the “bureaucratization” of monasticism. Cf. the opinion of S. T. Golubev, a professor at the Kiev Academy, expressed in his review (Readings. 1909. 4. Miscellany. p. 25 ff.) of the work: Shpachinsky, N., Arseny of Mohyla (1907).

[950] Collection. 48. p. 427. Cf. the opinion of Markell Rodychevsky (see below, §§ 22, 23).

[951] Makarii Bulgakov, Metropolitan. History of the Kyiv Theological Academy. Kyiv, 1843. p. 173.

[952] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 2. pp. 310, 314, 315.

[953] Ibid. Vol. 4, p. 573; Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 3 ff. Cf. § 21.

[954] Ibid. Vol. 4, p. 194. Nikanor Brovkovich was tonsured a monk at age 24, Makarii Bulgakov also at 24, Sergii Stragorodskii at 23, and Antonii Khrapovitskii at 22; the latter was already rector (!) of the Moscow Academy at age 27. Leonid Kavelin, archimandrite of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra (1877–1891), who himself spent five years as a novice at Optina Pustyn under the guidance of Elder Makarii, complained about this practice to Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov (Savva. Chronicle. 8. p. 706). On Nikanor, see: RBS; on Makarii: Materials for a Biography, in: Additions. 30. p. 300 ff.; on Sergii Stragorodsky: Patriarch Sergii and His Spiritual Legacy. Moscow, 1947. p. 179; on Anthony of Khrapovitsky: Nikon of Rklitsky (see bibliography for § 9).

[955] On the significance of monasticism for the Church and on the “superiority” of bishops from the scholarly monastic order compared to bishops from among widowed priests, see the statements by Anthony Khrapovitsky. First Reply Memorandum (1906), in: Reviews (1906). 1. p. 116; cf.: Nikon Rklitsky. 3. p. 35 ff.

[956] Metropolitan Anthony Vadkovsky. Speeches, Sermons, and Teachings. St. Petersburg, 1912. 3rd ed. pp. 250–322.

[957] Author’s italics. PSZ. 18. No. 12577; 24. No. 18273.

[959] For the mid-18th century, one can mention Palladius Yuryev (1721–1789), who initially served as a priest at the Nizhny Novgorod Cathedral. After becoming a widower, he took monastic vows in 1751 and by 1758 had become Bishop of Ryazan (until 1778), and from 1767 onward, a member of the Holy Synod (Makarii. History of the Nizhny Novgorod Hierarchy. p. 253). Another widowed priest was Mikhail Desnitsky, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg.

[960] Nicanor. Letters, in: Russian Archives, 1909, No. 6, p. 240.

[961] Eulogius. p. 108; Smolitsch. *Russisches Monchtum*. p. 466, note 1 (names of particularly well-known bishops who were widowed priests); pp. 447–469 (on the episcopate).

[962] See: Almanac of Russian Statesmen. St. Petersburg, 1897; Bulletin of the Kharkiv Diocese, in: Faith and Reason. 1903. No. 16. pp. 500 ff. Of the four Doctors of Theology, two—Antony Vadkovsky and Vissarion Nechaev—were widowed priests. According to the Chief Prosecutor’s report, between 1881 and 1894, 19 lay professors received the degree of Doctor of Theology, whereas only two scholarly monks did: Emelyan Radich, a Serb, and Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov; the latter was awarded the degree for publishing (!) Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov’s *Collection of Opinions*. Only 9 scholarly monks received a Master of Divinity degree, among them one Serb, Nikodim Milash, who later wrote the well-known work on canon law *Kirchenrecht der Morgenlandischen Kirche* (1897) and became Bishop of Zadar (Zara) in Dalmatia (*Review… Alexander III*, pp. 732–740).

[963] PSPiR. 3. No. 1105, 1198; 5. No. 1884; ODDs. 3. No. 452.

[964] Ecclesiastical Regulations. Part 1. Section 9; PSPiR. 1. No. 1; PSZ. 5. No. 2985. On Feodosiy Yanovsky’s participation in drafting the text of the episcopal oath, see: Titlinov. Feodosiy Yanovsky, in: RBS. p. 390; on the abolition of the oath, see: Prav. Sob. 1906. 3. p. 731; Verkhovskaya. 1. p. 609.

[965] See: Milasch, p. 352 ff., 365 ff.

[966] Suvorov. Course (1912). p. 306; Berdnikov. A Brief Course (1888). pp. 40, 43, 45. The rite of episcopal consecration was definitively established in 1676, and in 1725, at the behest of the Holy Synod, it was slightly modified by Archimandrite Gabriel Buzhinsky (Nikolsky, K. A Guide to the Study of the Liturgical Regulations of the Orthodox Church. St. Petersburg, 1900. 6th ed. pp. 712–716).

[967] See § 8. Titov, A. “Varlaam Shishatsky,” in: Russkiy Arkh. 1903, no. 6; Chistovich, Leading Figures (1894), pp. 69–77.

[968] See §§ 9, 11. Metropolitan Filaret opposed entrusting retired bishops with the leadership of monasteries (Collection of Opinions, 5. 1. p. 231). For examples of the humiliations to which retired bishops living in monasteries were sometimes subjected by the monastic authorities, see: Nikanor. 1. pp. 158–160, as well as the biography of Archbishop Anatoly Martynovsky, in: TKDA. 1887. No. 4. p. 404 ff.; Evlogii. The Path of My Life. p. 131.

[969] Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 105–107; PSZ. 16. No. 12060; Collection. 26. pp. 21, 28 ff., 415 ff.

[970] Ivantsov-Platonov, A. I. “On Russian Church Administration,” in: The Higher Church Administration in Russia. Moscow, 1906. p. 67 (first published in I. S. Aksakov’s newspaper *Rus* in 1882); cf. Aksakov’s own article: Collected Works (1886). Vol. 4. pp. 199 ff.

[971] See, in this connection, the description of the episcopate in the Muscovite state: Golubinsky, E. E., *History* (1900). 2nd ed., vol. 1, no. 1, pp. 369, 371, 604–606; Kapterev, N. F., *Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich*. Sergiev Posad, 1912. Vol. 2, pp. 120 ff. Both authors emphasize the episcopate’s desire to increase its authority over the parish clergy and, at the same time, its willingness to submit to the state even in matters that should have been decided by the Church itself.

[972] Collection. 113. 2. pp. 370–383. This clear violation of Canon 6 of the Fourth Ecumenical Council was all the more grave because it was often accompanied by all manner of intrigues. For relevant material pertaining to the period of Protasov’s tenure as Chief Prosecutor, see ibid. Under Chief Prosecutor D. A. Tolstoy, whom the episcopate disliked, transfers occurred less frequently. Under K. P. Pobedonostsev in 1880–1894, there were 48 transfers, and 18 bishops retired either voluntarily or under duress (Review… of Alexander III. pp. 5–13, 20 ff.). During 1908–1909, 18 bishops changed dioceses (Report… for 1908–1909, pp. 39–41). Sabler continued Pobedonostsev’s practice: in 1911 he transferred 10 bishops, and in 1912—another 7, not counting the numerous transfers of vicar bishops (Report… for 1911–1912, pp. 50–55). Cf.: Evlogii. Op. cit., p. 131, 126 ff. Just one example: Archbishop Nikanor (Kamensky) managed to serve in seven dioceses between 1893 and 1910, traveling across nearly all of Russia: he visited Arkhangelsk, Smolensk, Orel, Yekaterinburg, Grodno, Warsaw, and Kazan. It is no surprise that in Warsaw he gave lectures on the topic “The Peoples and Tribes of Russia.” Having been tonsured a monk as a widowed priest (1899), he was well aware of all the needs of the parish clergy, to which he was always responsive. See the following works about him: Teodorovich, T., *On the Fortieth Anniversary of Pastoral Ministry: Memoirs*, vol. 2, pp. 72–76; obituary of Archbishop Nikanor: *Istoricheskoe Vestnik*, 1911, vol. 123, p. 406.

[973] Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1875. 2. pp. 34 ff.; Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov. p. 430; Khitrov, I. “Remarkable Figures from the Russian White Clergy of the 18th Century,” in: Stranik. 1897. 2. pp. 262–274.

[974] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 19–145; regarding the 18th century, see: Kharlamovich. p. 521.

[975] Russian Archives, 1869, p. 1279 ff.; Moroshkin, M., “Note on the Latvian Affair under His Eminence Irinarh and Filaret,” in Pravda Obraztsova, 1886, vol. 2, pp. 126 ff., 417. Irinarh will be discussed further in vol. 2.

[976] Collection. 113. Vol. 2. pp. 4–60; Pavlovsky, I. D., “Irenaeus Nesterovich,” in: Russian Articles 1879–1880, 1882; Stogov, E. I., “The Revolt of Archbishop Irenaeus,” in: Russian Articles 1878. No. 9; for the report by the Irkutsk Governor-General to Nicholas I, see: Russian Articles, 1879, No. 2, pp. 361–366; RBS (Ibak-Klyucharev), 1897, p. 134 ff.

[977] Nikanor. Vol. 1, pp. 143 ff.; Titov, A., “His Eminence Jeremiah, in monasticism John, Bishop of Nizhny Novgorod,” in: Readings, 1887, No. 3; Andreevsky, E., “On the Memoirs of His Eminence Justin,” in: Russian Articles, 1908, 1. Pp. 163 ff. (Justin of Kharkiv, who dared to oppose the interference in his affairs by Governor-General M. T. Loris-Melikov, was transferred by Pobedonostsev following a complaint by the latter). Cf. § 9, note 464.

[978] See the memoirs of these bishops.

[979] Savva. Chronicle. 8. p. 762. Although Augustine was one of the learned monks and was interested in scholarship (Vengerov. Dictionary. 1. p. 43 ff.), he advanced with great difficulty up the career ladder: for nearly 12 years (1869–1881) he served as rector of the seminary in Vilnius (he was likely held in high regard by Archbishop Makarii Bulgakov, who headed the the Lithuanian Diocese), then served as a vicar bishop in three dioceses, and only in 1888 was he appointed to the See of Kostroma (RBS. Aaron-Alexander. 1896. p. 29 ff.).

[980] Popov, Arseny Matseevich. p. 195 ff.

[981] Dobrynin; Belyustin; Rostislavov (see bibliography for §§ 13–16), although the latter two are not always objective; also: Pevnitsky. Notes, in: Russkaya Gazeta, 1905, No. 7. p. 141; Livanov; Lototsky; Turchinovsky (see bibliography for § 17); Solovyov, S. M. Notes, in: VE. 1907. 3. pp. 74–76. And Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov could not dispute that episcopal authority was often abused; see his letter to Archbishop Kirill (Bogoslovsky-Platonov): Dushep. Cht. 1883. 3. pp. 425 ff., as well as: Letters to the Late Archbishop Alexy of Tver. Moscow, 1883. p. 212. See also: Golubinsky, E. E. “On Reform in the Life of the Russian Church,” in: Readings. 1913. 3. p. 117.

[982] Savva. Chronicle. 8. p. 420. Cf. the previously mentioned note by Archbishop Anthony Khrapovitsky. pp. 112 ff.

[983] Shpachinsky. p. 36; Rybalovsky, P. “Varlaam Vanatovich,” in: TKDA. 1908. 5. p. 96; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. 2. p. 17 ff., 341; 3. pp. 97–99; ibid. Parish Clergy—ibid. 1872. 2. p. 425; Sulotsky, A. “A Meeting of Bishops in Tobolsk in Days of Old,” in: Readings. 1864. 3. Miscellany. pp. 52–61; Rozanov. 2. pp. 8 ff., 332–336; Popov. Op. cit. p. 125.

[984] Nikanor. Vol. 1, pp. 109 ff.; Evlogiy. p. 108; Savva. 7. pp. 403, 418, 420; 8. p. 353. Alexander III’s directive was communicated to the Holy Synod orally through the Chief Prosecutor and subsequently published as a Synodal decree (Kalashnikov, No. 1177). The journal *Russian Archive* for 1906 or 1908 features a photograph of Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich wearing a richly embroidered velvet cassock. In my archive, there is a photograph taken during the solemn jubilee celebration of Metropolitan Ioannikiy Rudnev of Kyiv in 1899; it depicts 24 hierarchs, most of whom are wearing velvet or silk cassocks.

[985] According to Article 115 of the Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883 edition), diocesan bishops had the right to bequeath their vestments and other property by will. In the absence of a will, the vestments were transferred to the sacristy of the cathedral; the fate of other items was decided by the court. If no heirs were declared within a specified period, the property became the property of the bishop’s household (1841 ed., Art. 121; cf. the Statute in Palibin’s 1912 ed., p. 51).

[986] Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws, 1872, vol. 2, p. 416.

[989] Popov, pp. 195 ff., 200 ff.; Russian Archives, 1863, p. 863; Znamensky, in: Collection of Legal Articles, 1875, vol. 2, p. 9; Collection, vol. 10, p. 275; Readings. 1862. Vol. 2. Miscellany. p. 3; Rachinsky, A. Kirill Florinsky, Bishop of Sevsk, in: Russian Articles. 1876. Vol. 3. pp. 454–457; Shpachinsky. p. 235; Russian Articles. 1878. Vol. 5. p. 187 ff.; 1871. 3. p. 583; 1908. 7. pp. 40, 44, 54; Readings. 1880. 1. Miscellany. pp. 7–10; RBS (Yablonsky-Fomich). p. 470; (Ibak-Klyucharev). pp. 662 ff. On March 26, 1802, the Holy Synod, in a special decree, warned diocesan bishops against the cruel treatment of subordinate parish clergy (PSZ. 27. No. 20683).

[990] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. pp. 389, 400; cf. pp. 381–406.

[991] Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws 1875. 1. pp. 402–405.

[992] PSZ. 17. No. 12618; 18. No. 12909; 19. Nos. 13609, 13908; 24. No. 17624; 26. No. 19885; 30. No. 23037.

[993] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 143–145, 75, 151, 30–52 (on Filaret Drozdov). One notable exception was Archbishop Kirill Bogoslovsky-Platonov, who, through his kindness, earned great respect and love from the clergy and the faithful. His remarkable gift as a preacher and the heartfelt nature of his services attracted large crowds to the church in Kamianets-Podilskyi during Archbishop Kirill’s tenure there, from 1832 to 1841. Not only Orthodox Christians but also Catholics, Uniates, and even Jews flocked to his sermons (From the History of Podolia, in: Russkiye Stтии, 1911, vol. 146, p. 573; cf.: Collection, vol. 113, no. 1, p. 83 ff.; RBS. Ibak-Klyucharev, pp. 655–657).

[994] Nikanor. 1. pp. 5 ff.; Savva. 4. pp. 750, 811; 8. p. 651.

[995] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 66–71 (Grigory Postnikov), 85–89 (Venedikt Grigorovich).

[996] At the Trinity Academy (1914). p. 643.

[997] Unfortunately, the author is currently unable to specify exactly where Makarii used this expression; it was likely in one of his letters to Kirill Naumov.

[998] Bishop Memnon Vishnevsky served as vicar of the Kherson Diocese under several bishops for 20 years (1883–1903), until his very death (see Nikanor Brovkovich’s correspondence with him: Russ. Arkh. 1909. 6). Bishop Jacob Krotkov served as vicar in Vladimir for 14 years (1870–1884) (RBS, p. 160), while Bishop Polycarp of Honor was a vicar in Nizhny Novgorod for 18 years (1868–1886), during which time six diocesan bishops succeeded one another (RBS, Plavilshchikov-Irinov (1905). p. 354 ff.). The gifted but overly independent Nikanor Brovkovich was forced to spend six years (1871–1876) in “honorable exile” as vicar in Novocherkassk (Don Diocese). Even while serving as rector of the Kazan Theological Academy (1868–1871), he was described in gendarmerie reports as too “liberal,” a fact he only learned much later, upon his appointment as a diocesan bishop (Nikanor. From Notes, in: Russ. Arch. 1908, No. 1, p. 5). Bishop Porphyry Uspensky, an educated and ambitious man who dreamed of receiving a diocese, was forced to serve as vicar in Kyiv for 12 years (1865–1877), since he, too, was reputed to be a “liberal.” Porphyry, for example, would allow himself to ask students questions such as the following during exams at the Kiev Academy: “Is the Holy Synod a canonically justified institution?” (Golubev. Porphyry Uspensky, in: RBS. Plavilshchikov-Irinos (1905). p. 593 ff.). Filaret Drozdov was highly critical of Porphyry (Collection of Opinions. 4. p. 457).

[999] A wealth of details about Filaret’s relations with his vicars can be gleaned from the “Chronicle” by Savva Tikhomirov, who himself served as a vicar of the Moscow Diocese from 1862 to 1866.

[1000] It seems that Bishop Iliodor Chistyakov was the only one who remained in the same see—in Kursk (1832–1860)—for his entire life. From 1865 to 1880, bishops generally remained in their dioceses for quite a long time. But in the period that followed, up to 1903, of all the bishops in the 62 dioceses, only one avoided transfers, while the rest changed sees every 3–4 years (Group of St. Petersburg Priests: To the Ecclesiastical Council. St. Petersburg, 1905. p. 18).

[1001] On Ioannikii Gorskiy, see: Nikanor. 1. pp. 44–60; Savva. 2. p. 529. On Ioannikii Rudnev, see § 9, note 460. During the Pobedonostsev era, Archbishop Ionafan Rudnev (1819–1906) was a rare exception: he remained in the Yaroslavl Diocese from 1877 to 1903.

[1002] Many remarks on this subject can be found in the memoirs of Nikanor and Savva.

[1003] On Arseny Matseevich, see: Popov (1912); on Arseny Vereshchagin and Simon Lagov, see above.

[1004] On Gavriil Petrov, see: Titlinov (1916), especially ch. 2 (Tver), 7 (on the revitalization of monastic life), 8 (St. Petersburg). For literature on Platon Levshin, see the bibliography for § 8 and in the book: Rozanov. 2. 1. p. 10 ff.; see also § 19 below.

[1005] Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1875. Vol. 2, p. 4 ff.; Shpachinsky (1907); Rozhdestvensky, F. “Samuil Mislavsky,” in: TKDA. 1876–1877; Orlovsky, P. “The Legend of Blessed Raphael, Metropolitan of Kyiv,” in: TKDA. 1908. 2.

[1006] From the Antiquities of Podolia, in: Russkiye Stтии. 1911. 148. p. 89 (this likely refers to Bishop Arseny Moskvin (1841–1846), known for his strictness).

[1007] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 141–142.

[1008] On Moses: Nikanor. 1. p. 21 ff.; Collection. 113. 1. p. 169; on Jonah—ibid., p. 75; RBS. Ibak-Klyucharev (1897), p. 316; on Eugene: Collection. 113. 1. pp. 143–145.

[1009] A number of Filaret’s decisions on matters of diocesan administration from the early 1870s were published in *Dushepoleznoe Chtenie*; see also: Zaozersky, N. A., “Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, as Administrator and Judge in His Diocese,” in: *Pribavleniya*. 1883. 2; for other literature, see the RBS. N. P. Gilyarov-Platonov offers the following assessment of Filaret as a bishop: “The name of Metropolitan Filaret is associated with an entire period of church history… He was not a representative of his era; he himself was that era; he did not merely reflect his time, but guided it. In the first half of Alexander’s reign, having risen to the head of church administration—not by virtue of his rank or position of service, but solely through the influence of his moral strength—he remained in that position until the end of his life. His external influence was sometimes contested, but no one ever disputed his intellectual and spiritual preeminence or his moral influence… He was a bishop from morning till night and from night till morning… Metropolitan Filaret was an extraordinary historical figure” (Collected Works (1899). Vol. 2, p. 436; this was written in 1867, immediately after Filaret’s death; cf. the bibliography for § 9).

[1010] On Alexius, see: RBS. Aleksinsky-Bestuzhev (1900). pp. 20 ff. There are almost no sources for this period, with the exception of the reports of the chief prosecutors; memoirs of hierarchs and other contemporaries from which one might glean a clear picture of the era are rare. Perhaps this is precisely why there are no specialized studies on the subject. See § 9.

[1011] Nikanor. 1. pp. 60–66; Shompulev, V. “A Characterization of the Bishops of the Saratov Diocese Over Sixty Years,” in: Russkiye Stat’i, 1912, p. 151. p. 252. This work also covers the activities of other bishops, beginning with Yakov Vecherkov (1832–1847) and continuing through the early 20th century.

[1012] Anthony Nikolaevsky, Bishop of Yenisei (1873–1881) and Penza (1881–1889) (RBS. Aleksinsky-Bestuzhev (1900). p. 221); Evgeny Shereshilov, Bishop of Minsk (1877–1880) and later of Astrakhan (1880–1889) (PBÉ. 2. Col. 109 ff.); Dionysius Khitrov, Bishop of Yakutsk (1867–1883) and Ufa (1883–1896) (Savva. 6. p. 575; Barsukov, N. Dionysius Khitrov. Moscow, 1902); Mitrofan of Vinnitsa, Bishop of Orenburg (1866–1879) and Novocherkassk (1879–1887) (PBE. 5. Col. 5); Ioannikiy Rudnev, who successively administered six dioceses (1864–1900) and died as Metropolitan of Kyiv (PBE. 6. Col. 771–784; Shompulev. Op. cit., p. 252); Lavrenty Nekrasov, Bishop of Kursk (1898–1904) and Tula (1904–1908) (Istoricheskoe Vedomost’ 1908, vol. 5, p. 778); Isidor Nikolsky, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg (PBE, vol. 5, Columns 1071–1074); Anthony Vadkovsky, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg (see bibliography for § 9, note 461 to Chapter 2). This list could be continued; see: Smolitsch, *Russisches Monchtum*, p. 466, note.

[1013] There were quite a few talented preachers among the bishops. In the 18th century, Theophan Prokopovich and, on occasion, Stefan Yavorsky delivered sermons on ecclesiastical and political topics; in the 20th century, it was Anthony Khrapovitsky. Outstanding masters of purely ecclesiastical preaching in the 18th century were Gedeon Krinovsky, Arseny Mogilyansky, Dimitry Sechenov, Innokenty Nechaev, Ambrose Protasov, and Anastasy Bratanovsky; in the 19th century—Filaret Drozdov, Innokenty Borisov, Mikhail Desnitsky, Ambrose Klyucharev, Vissarion Nechaev, Cyril Bogoslovsky-Platonov, John Dobrozrakov, Alexander Svetlakov, Nikanor Brovkovich, Justin Vishnevsky, and others. For details on preaching, see the relevant chapter in vol. 2.

[1014] On Vissarion Nechaev: PBE. 3. Cols. 514–516; Korsunsky, I. His Eminence Vissarion, Bishop of Kostroma. Moscow, 1886; on Anastasia Dobradina: Church News. 1913. 1819.

[1015] Nikanor. 1. p. 110; Collection. 113. 1. pp. 66–70; Evlogii. p. 108; Savva. 9. p. 200 (on Leontii of Lebedinsk). There were also bishops who were not particularly eager to participate in episcopal divine services, for example, Archbishop Jonah of Pavlinsk of Kazan (Collection. 113. 1. p. 52 ff.) or Bishop Athanasius Drozdov of Astrakhan (Savva. 8. p. 83).

[1016] During the Synodal period, the following 18th-century bishops were canonized: Dimitri Tuptalo of Rostov, Innokenty Kulchitsky of Irkutsk, Mitrofan of Voronezh, Tikhon of Zadonsk, and Joasaph of Belgorod (see § 25 in Vol. 2).

[1017] There is a fairly extensive body of literature on Theophanes; the most detailed work is: I. Korsunsky, His Eminence Theophanes, Bishop of Vladimir and Suzdal. Moscow, 1895; see also: Smolitsch, *Leben und Lehre der Starzen* (1936). pp. 178–193 (2nd ed., 1952, pp. 160–173); idem, *Russisches Monchtum* (1953), pp. 441 ff. On Ambrose of Ornatsk: V. Zhmakin, in: *Russkiye Stтии*, 1883, no. 7, pp. 129–178; RBS (lit.); Smolitsch. Russian Monasticism. pp. 454 ff. Cf. § 23 below.

[1018] Titov, A. A., “His Eminence Jeremiah,” in: Readings, 1887, vol. 3; RBS, pp. 164 ff.; PBE, vol. 6, col. 311; Smolitsch, *Russian Monasticism*, pp. 455 ff.

[1019] Kulzhinsky, G. I., *Saint Meletius Leontovich, Archbishop of Kharkiv and Akhtyr*. Kharkiv, 1881; Kovalevsky, A., “From Memories of Archbishop Meletius Leontovich of Kharkiv,” in: *Spiritual Readings*, 1867. 3. On Anthony: Kovalevsky, A. “From Memoirs of His Eminence Anthony, Archbishop of Voronezh,” in: Spiritual Readings, 1868, No. 3; “Description of Russian Ascetics” (December issue). pp. 490–496; Savostyanov, S. The Life of His Eminence Anthony, Archbishop of Voronezh. St. Petersburg, 1852; Nekrasov. His Eminence Anthony, Archbishop of Voronezh. Voronezh, 1890.

[1020] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 53–56; At the Trinity Academy (1914). pp. 232–251. Filaret Amfiteatrov’s letters have been published only in part: Readings. 1869. 2–3; TKDA. 1884. 2 (to Innokenty Borisov); BV. 1913. 1 (to Ignaty Bryanchaninov). See also: Archimandrite Sergius Vasilievsky (see bibliography for § 9); RBS (Faber-Tsavlovsky). 1901. pp. 77–80; Smolitsch. Russisches Monchtum. p. 458 ff.

[1021] Smolitsch. *Leben und Lehre der Starzen* (1936). pp. 168–177 (2nd ed.: 1952. pp. 151–159); idem. *Russisches Monchtum*. pp. 453 ff., 521–524. See § 23 below.

[1022] Archimandrite Pimen. Memoirs, in: Readings. 1877. 1. p. 407.

[1023] See the chapters on theological scholarship in vol. 2.

[1024] On Evgeny: Abramovich, D. I. “In Memory of Metropolitan Evgeny Bolkhovitinov,” in: Historical Archive. St. Petersburg, 1919. Vol. 1. pp. 190–223 (bibliography and list of Metropolitan Evgeny’s works); Correspondence of Makarii, Metropolitan of Moscow, in: TKDA. 1907. 11. p. 480; cf.: At the Trinity Academy (1914). p. 643.

[1025] Listovsky, I. Filaret, Archbishop of Chernigov. Moscow, 1887. p. 24; on the influence of A. V. Gorsky on Filaret, see: At the Trinity Academy. pp. 343, 323; on censorship difficulties: Kotovich. Op. cit. p. 187; At the Trinity Academy. p. 408. Bishop Nikodim Kazantsev, a student of Filaret at the Moscow Theological Academy, describes him as a reserved man but a remarkable scholar (The Life of Archimandrite Nikodim Kazantsev, in: BV. 1910. 3. p. 627). See also the chapters on theological scholarship in vol. 2.

[1026] For more on this scholar and researcher, see Vol. 2.

[1027] See § 21 and the relevant chapters in vol. 2.

[1028] On Filaret Drozdov, see: Florovsky. The Paths of Russian Theology. pp. 166–184, 542 ff. For more details on this aspect of Metropolitan Filaret’s work, see vol. 2.

[1029] Znamensky. *Parish Clergy* (1873). pp. 615, 628.

[1030] Metropolitan Anthony. Sermons. 3rd ed. (1912). p. 11.

[1031] Cited in: Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich (1868). pp. 325 ff.; cf. § 23.

[1032] Znamensky. Parish Clergy. p. 400. This work was first published by V. I. Savva under the title “A Treatise Against the Bishops of the 18th Century,” in: Readings. 1909. 1. pp. 25, 35. Savva dates it to the period between 1744 and 1764 and also considers Archpriest Peter Alekseev to be the author. Znamensky’s dating is apparently closer to the truth. Evidently, Alekseev’s criticism of the episcopate dates to the time when the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws was in session. It is possible that he was familiar with the “provisions” of the Holy Synod (see § 8), in which the clergy was divided into two classes. As one of the first to oppose the unchallenged dominance of the bishops, Alekseev stands out as a rather prominent figure among the White clergy of the 18th century; see: Rozanov (see bibliography for § 11). 3. 1, note 600; Supplement. pp. 174–185, which provide a very detailed account of Alekseev’s disputes with Archpriest A. Levshin, the brother of Metropolitan Platon Levshin. Alekseev was a nervous, argumentative, and greedy man, and among the reasons for his criticism of the bishops were, no doubt, disagreements with Metropolitan Platon. In his struggle against Platon, he could count on support at the imperial court thanks to his friendship with Archpriest Panfilov, the spiritual advisor to Catherine II, who was also an opponent of the episcopate. This closeness to St. Petersburg was expressed, on the one hand, in his complaints and denunciations—it was he who denounced the writer Novikov (Russ. Arkh. 1882. 2. p. 76 ff.)—and, on the other hand, in signs of royal favor, such as the fact that it was he, not without Panfilov’s patronage, who was entrusted with hearing Pugachev’s final confession before his execution (ibid., p. 70). As a skilled preacher and catechist, as well as an educated man, he undoubtedly stood out among the Moscow parish clergy. With his book *True Christian Piety* (Moscow, 1767), dedicated to Catherine II—“a true follower of the true Divinity” (!) (Filaret. Obzor. 1884. p. 386), he immediately attracted the empress’s attention. He also demonstrated his characteristic energy as a member of the Russian Academy (Sukhomlinov. History of the Russian Academy (1874). Vol. 1. p. 280). He also wrote letters to Paul I (Korsakov, D. P. Alekseev, Protopresbyter of the Archangel Cathedral in Moscow, in: Russ. Arch. 1880. 2). For Alekseev’s correspondence with Panfilov, see: Russ. Arch. 1871. 1; 1892, no. 1; cf.: Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1872, no. 2, pp. 429–440; for his complaints and denunciations against Platon, see: Russ. Arkh. 1871, pp. 218 ff.; 1882. 2. pp. 73 ff. (to Khrapovitsky, personal secretary to Catherine II). 79; see also: RBS. Aleksinsky-Bestuzhev (1900). p. 11.

[1033] For Alekseev’s second work, “Reflection,” see: Readings. 1867. Vol. 3. pp. 17–26; cf. Filaret Gumilevsky’s very harsh criticism of it: Review (1884). p. 384.

[1034] Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1910. 5. p. 140.

[1035] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 2. p. 310. In his thorough study, “Tonsure into Monastic Life: The Rite of Tonsure into Monastic Life in the Greek Church,” Kyiv, 1914, Professor P. Palmov of the Kyiv Academy asserts that a special rite of ordination should be established for scholarly monasticism, since its activities and its entire essence did not correspond to true monasticism (p. 343). See also the opinion of the Bulgarian theologian Stefan Tsankov: Zankov, St. *Das orthodoxe Christentum des Ostens*. Berlin, 1928, p. 333.

[1036] Gorsky, A. V. “On the Episcopal Office in Relation to Monasticism,” in: *Additions*, 21 (1862). Filaret Drozdov permitted the publication of this work solely on the grounds of its rigorous scholarly nature (*Collection of Opinions*, 5. 1. p. 417). Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky also spoke disapprovingly of it in one of his letters to Gorsky, with whom he was on friendly terms (At the Trinity in the Academy, p. 481).

[1037] Archimandrite John Sokolov, “On the Monasticism of Bishops,” in: Collection of Legal Opinions, 1863, 1–2. Filaret Drozdov found this work “highly useful” and made only a few minor comments on John’s conclusions (Collection of Opinions, 5. 1. p. 414 ff.). Bishop Gury Karpov’s treatise, “On the Divine Institution of the Episcopal Office” (Moscow, 1876), which appeared some time later, was prompted by plans for reforms of the ecclesiastical court (see § 6).

[1038] A Description of the Rural Clergy in Russia. Leipzig, 1858, especially pp. 20–30, 44, 124–128; subsequently, this book was reprinted with some changes and under the title “Notes of a Rural Priest” in the Russian Arch. 1879–1880. The “Description” greatly outraged the well-known “defender of Orthodoxy” A. N. Muravyov, who wrote to Filaret Drozdov on January 2, 1859: “Be sure to order a response to be written to the book on the rural clergy. You are delaying, but this book, like poison, is causing deep wounds in the highest circles, and it is believed as if it were the Gospel” (Letters from Ecclesiastical and Secular Figures to Metropolitan Filaret, p. 289). It is possible that Filaret commissioned N. V. Elagin to write the response.

[1039] [Elagin, N. V.] The Russian Clergy. Leipzig, 1859. Chapters 1 and 2, which criticize the *Description*, were written by Elagin; the author of Chapter 7, “An Orthodox View of the Office of Bishops,” was a theologically educated man, likely A. F. Lavrov, a professor at the Moscow Academy. N. V. Elagin (1817–1891), a censor in St. Petersburg from 1848, was known for his religious conservatism. He later wrote two more books: *The Spirit and Merits of Monasticism for the Church and Society* (St. Petersburg, 1874) and *The White Clergy and Its Interests* (St. Petersburg, 1874), in which he criticizes the white clergy and praises monasticism.

[1040] On the White and Black Clergy. Berlin, 1866. Here, as in other works by D. Rostislavov, we find sharp attacks against the episcopate and the scholarly monastic order—these “black-robed monks”—who, in his opinion, were a reactionary force within the Russian Church. Some of Rostislavov’s assertions reveal his considerable bias, clearly highlighting the gulf that, from the early nineteenth century through the end of the Synodal period, separated the scholarly monastic community from the secular faculty at theological educational institutions. In addition, Rostislavov was influenced to some extent by the non-ecclesiastical liberal movements of the 1860s. See his works in the bibliography for §§ 10, 11, 13–16, 20.

[1041] Novoye Vremya. 1906. No. 11030; cited in: M. V. Hopes and Disappointments, in: BV. 1907. 1. pp. 189 ff., 197.

[1042] The “responses” of the diocesan bishops regarding plans to convene the Local Council in 1905–1906 confirm our critical assessments in this paragraph. After a long period of enforced silence, in the hope that church reform would finally be implemented, the bishops spoke very frankly and critically (for more on this, see vol. 2).

[1043] Regarding the history of the white parish clergy, the works of P. Znamensky, *The Parish Clergy*, and N. Rozanov are particularly important. The works of Grigorovich, Chizhevsky, Ivanovsky, Nechaev, and Kalashnikov provide a summary of the decrees and orders of the government and the Holy Synod concerning the rights and duties of the parish clergy.

[1044] Znamensky. Op. cit., in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. p. 53.

[1045] Ibid., p. 348. On the formation of estates (or social classes), see the works of Vladimirsky-Budanov, Filippov, and Latkin (see bibliography, general literature b).

[1046] Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws, 1871. Vol. 3, p. 69; Rozanov, Vol. 1, p. 105. It should not be overlooked that in Siberia, the dioceses were administered by bishops of Ukrainian origin, for whom the principle of election was familiar. In the Irkutsk Diocese, it was permitted by a special decree as early as 1739 (PSZ, vol. 10, no. 7836). This principle was known even before the Stoglav Council of 1551 (Stoglav, Kazan, 1887. pp. 32, 84; Golubinsky. 1. 1 (1901). pp. 444 ff.) and, as evident from Patriarch Adrian’s letter to the Metropolitan of Kyiv dated April 7, 1699, was universally recognized in Muscovy (Titov, F. The Russian Orthodox Church in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in the 17th–18th Centuries, vol. 2, no. 1 (1905). pp. 419 ff.). For a general discussion of the principle of election, see: Milasch. p. 406.

[1047] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. Vol. 3. pp. 70, 75; Titov. Op. cit. pp. 413–419.

[1048] Shpachinsky. pp. 295, 320 ff., 337. On the special status of the parish clergy in the Ukrainian dioceses, which, as is well known (see § 11), came under the jurisdiction of the Moscow Patriarchate only at the end of the 17th century, see also the work by E. M. Kryzhanovsky, “Essays on the Way of Life of the Little Russian Clergy in the 18th Century,” in: Collected Works. K., 1890. 1; Lazarevsky, A. M., *Description of Old Little Russia*. K., 1888; Lebedev, A. (see bibliography for § 11); Lototsky; Dianin.

[1049] Znamensky, P. The Theological School in Russia Before the Reform of 1808. Kazan, 1881. pp. 315 ff. See decrees: PSZ. 10. No. 7204 (1737), 7364 (1737), 7734 (1739). One of the decrees from 1734 (PSZ. 9, No. 6614) prohibited Ukrainian bishops from ordaining former Cossacks to the priesthood, which indicates that such cases were not uncommon. Similar decrees were also issued regarding the “urban population” (PSPiR, vol. 8, Nos. 2815, 2818, 2828).

[1051] Shpachinsky. pp. 309 ff., 313; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. pp. 77–79, 85–89. However, there were also bishops in Ukraine who disagreed with the principle of election and tried in every way to abolish it; for example, Herodion Zhurakovsky, Bishop of Chernihiv (1722–1734), and Ioasaf Gorlenko, Bishop of Belgorod (1748–1754) (Znamensky. Op. cit., pp. 184, 188, 191).

[1052] Shpachinsky. pp. 296 ff. The office of vicar priests was gradually abolished only under Gabriel of Kremenets (1770–1783) and Samuel of Mislav (1783–1796). Both did much to reform the administration according to the Great Russian model.

[1053] PSZ. 4. No. 2352; this decree was confirmed in 1722 (PSZ. 6. No. 3911; PSPiR. 2. No. 439); cf.: Ecclesiastical Regulations. Part 2. Section 8.

[1054] PSZ. 6. No. 3932, 4120; 7. No. 4190. Art. 18; cf.: Rozanov. 2. 1. p. 69 ff.; 2. 2. p. 29 ff.

[1055] PSZ. 6. No. 4022; 10. No. 7204, 7734; 11. No. 8291; PSPiR. 6. No. 2409, 2420.

[1056] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. Vol. 3, p. 174. Nevertheless, the principle of election, for example, in St. Petersburg, was still quite frequently applied as early as the 1840s (Ist. – stat. Peterburg. Vol. 5, pp. 33, 35, 37).

[1057] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 198. Metropolitan Platon Levshin’s “Instructions to Deaneries” did, however, recognize the right of parishes to elect their own candidates in the presence of the deans (Rozanov, Vol. 3, No. 1, p. 51), but in practice this right was apparently rarely exercised (Znamensky, op. cit., p. 198).

[1058] PSZ. 24. No. 17958. Art. 18. This decree of the Holy Synod dated May 7, 1797, was likely issued on the basis of Paul I’s decree to the Prosecutor General dated May 4 of the same year, according to which administrative departments were prohibited from accepting any petitions from the population (PSZ. 24. No. 17956).

[1060] PSZ. 33. No. 26347; confirmed in 1820, 1823, and 1832 (PSZ. 37. No. 28373; 38. No. 29711; 2 PSZ. 5, No. 3869; cf.: 1, No. 213).

[1061] Author’s italics. Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. Vol. 3. p. 209 ff.

[1062] PSZ. 4. No. 2308, 2352; 6. No. 3932, 4120; 7. No. 4190.

[1064] Of interest is the opinion on this matter of I. T. Pososhkov (1652–1726), a publicist of Peter the Great’s era who had his own views on the negative and positive aspects of Peter’s “Europeanization.” In his work “On Poverty and Wealth” (1724), he writes: “In my opinion, even if a candidate has studied at school, he must nevertheless be tested to see what he is like in intellect and in all matters of reasoning, and only then should he be ordained. And if someone has studied grammar but lacks understanding and reasoning, I believe it is by no means proper to ordain such individuals as presbyters. Above all, presbyters must possess sound judgment so that they may be shepherds to the flock of the Word” (p. 2). “Great care must be taken regarding the clergy, so that presbyters may be a pillar of all piety” (Pososhkov. Book on Poverty and Wealth, in: Monuments of Russian History. Vol. 2, ed. M. K. Lyubavsky et al. Moscow, 1911. p. 2, cf. p. 5).

[1066] PSZ. 5. No. 3245, 3287; 7. No. 4533, 4536, 4996. Regarding the social and legal conditions under which clergy were reclassified as taxpayers, see also: V. O. Klyuchevsky, “The Capitation Tax and the Abolition of Serfdom in Russia,” in *Experiments and Studies: First Collection of Articles*. Petrograd, 1918. pp. 268–357; first published in: Russkiy Mir, 1886, Nos. 5, 7, 9, 10. The poll tax (per capita tax) was introduced by Peter the Great to maintain the army in peacetime (decree of November 26, 1718: PSZ, vol. 5, No. 3245).

[1067] PSZ. 12. No. 8981; PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 677.

[1068] PSZ. 20. No. 14475; 22. Nos. 15978, 15981.

[1069] See § 19 below; Vladimirsky-Budanov, M. F. The State and Public Education in Russia in the 18th Century. Yaroslavl, 1874. p. 107 ff.

[1070] PSZ. 20. No. 14831. Art. 1.

[1071] PSZ. 24. Nos. 17675, 18273; cf. No. 18726. Art. 15, 18880, 19434.

[1072] 2 PSZ. 4. No. 3323; 6. No. 4563; Excerpts… for 1869. p. 221.

[1073] Code of Laws. Vol. 3, Art. 32–33; Vol. 9, Art. 275, 276, 291.

[1074] Excerpts… for 1867; on decrees and amendments to the law on this matter, see: Nechaev, Chizhevsky, and Kalashnikov.

[1075] 2 PSZ. 44. No. 47138; 46. Nos. 49361, 49382; Excerpts… for 1869. pp. 224–227, 241–243; Excerpts… for 1871. pp. 210–212.

[1076] 2 PSZ. 7. No. 5585; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. pp. 340 ff.; Tserk. ved. 1905. 52. p. 575.

[1077] PSPiR. 2. No. 596. Art. 27; PSZ. 6. No. 4022.

[1078] See below for more on this.

[1079] PSZ. 7. No. 5202; 8. Nos. 5264, 5432; 10. No. 7836, etc.

[1080] On certain characteristics of the parish clergy in connection with the order of succession, see: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. p. 422 ff.; Shpachinsky, Arseny Mogilyansky, p. 319. However, in Ukraine, priests’ sons often were unable to inherit their fathers’ parishes, since, under the principle of election—while it was still in effect—parishes could elect other, more suitable candidates. As early as 1767, the clergy of the Chernihiv Diocese complained about such practices in their “points” submitted to the Commission for the Drafting of a New Code of Laws (Collection, vol. 43, p. 571).

[1081] PSZ. 18. No. 13067; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. pp. 433–451; Shpachinsky. Op. cit. p. 424 ff.

[1082] PSZ. 18. No. 13067; Znamensky, in: Legal Collection 1871. 3. p. 452.

[1083] PSZ. 22. No. 15981; 25. 18921; Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 453 ff.; Shpachinsky. Op. cit. pp. 323 ff.

[1084] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 463 ff.

[1086] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 44610; 44. No. 47138.

[1087] Aksakov, I. S. Collected Works. Vol. 4, pp. 707 ff. (in the November 4, 1867, issue of the newspaper *Moscow*); see also: Mirotvorcev, V. “Government Measures to Reform the Way of Life of the Orthodox Clergy during the Reign of Emperor Alexander II,” in: Prav. sob. 1880, vol. 3; Runovsky, N. “Ecclesiastical and Civil Legal Provisions Concerning the Clergy during the Reign of Emperor Alexander II.” Kazan, 1898.

[1088] According to the 1722 census, there were 15,761 churches with 67,111 clergy (priests, deacons, and church servants) (Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. p. 167).

[1089] Znamensky. Op. cit., p. 84.

[1090] PSZ. 4. Nos. 2186, 2308, 2352; 5. No. 2778; 6. No. 4035.

[1091] PSZ. 5. No. 2985; repeated in the “Spiritual Regulations”: On Bishops. Paragraph 8.

[1092] PSZ. 5. Nos. 3171, 3175; 6. Nos. 3963, 4190; 6. No. 4022. Articles 1–5, 22, 25; PSPiR. 2. No. 60; confirmed in 1731: PSPiR. 7. No. 2482; cf. Senate decree: PSZ. 8. No. 6025.

[1093] PSZ. 6. No. 3901. Art. 8. Until 1718, a household tax (or household levy) was paid, and from 1719 onward, a per capita tax. However, taxes to owners of church estates continued to be paid from the households (see § 10).

[1094] PSZ. 6. No. 3932; PSPiR. 2. No. 513.

[1095] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. p. 97.

[1096] PSZ. 6. No. 4035; for directives on this matter, see: PSPiR. 2. Nos. 532, 548, 955.

[1097] PSZ, vol. 6, No. 4072; reaffirmed in 1723 (No. 4035). In practice, many small parishes continued to exist until their consolidation was confirmed by new decrees (PSPiR, vol. 2, No. 955; vol. 3, No. 1029; PSZ, vol. 6, No. 4186).

[1098] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. p. 167.

[1099] PSPiR, vol. 2, No. 674; PSZ, vol. 6, No. 4035; vol. 7, No. 4515.

[1100] PSPiR. Vol. 2, Nos. 648, 715; Vol. 4, No. 1312; PSZ. Vol. 6, Nos. 4136, 4021, 4035.

[1102] PSZ. 7. No. 49088; 11. No. 8836. Art. 12; cf.: 11. No. 8625; 12. Nos. 8914, 8991; 14. Nos. 10342, 10665.

[1103] On this work by Theophanes, see: Chistovich, Theophanes Prokopovich, p. 530; Morozov, Theophanes Prokopovich as a Writer (1880). pp. 358 ff. PSZ. 8. Nos. 5494, 5508, 5909; PSPiR. 7. Nos. 2298, 2518. Many details are provided by Titlinov. The Reign of Anna Ioannovna. Ch. 3.

[1104] Titlinov. Op. cit. pp. 207–236; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. Vol. 1. pp. 140–171.

[1105] PSZ. 10. Nos. 7070, 7314, 7331; cf. Nos. 7138, 7164, 7169. Seminary students who proved incapable of academic study were also conscripted (PSZ. 10. No. 7385). It should be noted that even under Alexei Mikhailovich, the illiterate sons of clergymen were conscripted into military service in 1660 (PSZ. 1. Nos. 288, 289). The same measure was applied under Peter I in 1708–1710 (PSZ. 4, Nos. 2186, 2308).

[1106] PSZ. 10. Nos. 7364, 7389, 7490, 7533, 7610, 7646, 7790; 11. No. 8040; 10. Nos. 7634, 7717.

[1107] PSZ. 10. Nos. 7734, 7790; 11. No. 8040. Under the rule of Anna Leopoldovna, the situation eased somewhat, and many conscripts were released (PSZ. 11. No. 8268), including those who had been detained for refusing to take the oath (PSZ. 11. Nos. 8130, 8148, 8153, 8199).

[1108] PSZ. 11. No. 8836. Art. 12; 12. No. 8890; 13. No. 9781; 14. No. 10342; PSPiR. E. P. 4. Nos. 1400, 1401, 1428; see also: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. pp. 172–192.

[1109] PSZ. 14. No. 10665, 10780, 10422; 17. No. 12586, 12861; 18. No. 13306; PSPiR. E. II. 1. No. 261, 264. For more details on the analysis of 1764–1765, see: Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov, pp. 74–85. On the one hand, the government sought to reduce the number of clergy; on the other hand, under Elizabeth Petrovna, on October 3, 1761, peasants who had received their freedom from their landowners were permitted to join the clergy (PSZ. 15. No. 11336).

[1110] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. p. 197.

[1111] PSZ. 17. No. 12575. Since after 1756 the number of clergy without a parish (“wandering priests”) did not decrease but, as was usually the case after such investigations, actually increased, it became necessary to issue new decrees to combat this long-standing phenomenon: PSZ. 19. No. 13764, 13499, 14207; PSpiR. E. II. 1. No. 68, 266, 564.

[1112] PSZ. 18. No. 13236; PSPiR. E. II. 1. Nos. 464, 519, 524.

[1113] PSZ. 19. Nos. 14062, 14182; 20. Nos. 14295, 14475.

[1114] PSZ. 20. No. 14807; new regulations for the construction of churches: PSZ. 19. Nos. 13541, 13625, 14231. Art. 11; 21. No. 15379. Art. 58 (Decree on the Deanery, or Police Decree). The introduction of staff positions in Ukrainian dioceses led to the disappearance of the institution of parish vicars (Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws, 1872, Vol. 1, p. 255).

[1115] PSZ. 22. Nos. 15978, 15981, 16646, 16674; cf. 23. No. 16797. Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov. pp. 533–556; on the bishops’ dissatisfaction with the results of the 1784 review, see: Znamensky, op. cit., pp. 286 ff.

[1116] PSZ. 24. Nos. 17675, 17728; 25. Nos. 18109, 18457, 18726. Art. 15, 18880.

[1117] PSZ. 27. Nos. 20491, 20489, 20567, 20897; 29. Nos. 22476, 21811; 30. No. 22841; 33. No. 26580.

[1118] 2 PSZ. 6. Nos. 4563, 4599; 8. No. 6450; on special privileges for the sons of priests and deacons who voluntarily enlisted in military service: 2 PSZ. 1. No. 544; 2. No. 1262.

[1119] 2 PSZ. 4. No. 3323; 17. Nos. 15470, 16856; Excerpts… for 1842. pp. 48–49; cf. Excerpts… for 1869. p. 221.

[1120] 2 PSZ. 44. No. 46974; Excerpts… for 1869, pp. 218–240; Excerpts… for 1871, pp. 198, 205 ff.; Excerpts… for 1873, pp. 183–189.

[1121] See “Vedomosti” in: Reports of the Chief Prosecutor for 1870–1881, as well as Table 6.

[1122] Report… for 1885, pp. 206–213; Report… for 1886, pp. 31–38. On the dissatisfaction of diocesan bishops, see: Savva, vol. 7, pp. 526 ff.; vol. 8, p. 132.

[1123] Starting in 1885, for clergy members serving as psalm readers, the previous title “prichetnik” (in Ukraine—“dyachok”) was replaced by the single official title “psalm reader” (Kalashnikov, No. 1848); for other decrees of the Holy Synod regarding the duties and rights of psalm readers, see ibid., Nos. 1848–1860. Cf. Statute of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 69, 75, 79, 85, 148; see also the explanations in the 1912 edition by M. N. Palibin; Chizhevsky. p. 24 ff.

[1124] Report… for 1888; Report… for 1914; cf. Table 6.

[1125] PSZ. 1. No. 412. Chapters 7, 9.

[1126] PSZ. 7. No. 4499; 11. No. 8537; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. p. 266.

[1127] PSZ. 19. No. 13541; 26. No. 19897 (1801); 29. No. 22378; 32. No. 24945; 2 PSZ. 8. No. 6289.

[1128] 2 PSZ. 14. No. 12148; Code of Laws. 9. Art. 276; Charter of Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 86 (1899 ed., Arts. 415, 428); cf.: Kalashnikov, Nos. 2159–2170. Regarding the 18th century, see: PSZ, Vol. 16, No. 12471. Cf., however: Milasch, pp. 271 ff., 276 ff., 283

[1129] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 478–482 (dated January 22, 1860), 496 ff., 527–533.

[1130] Ibid. pp. 517–527, 576–579. Cf.: Reviews. 3. p. 444.

[1131] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 4. p. 143; see M. N. Muravyov’s note in: Russian Archives. 1883. Vol. 2. pp. 175–203; 2 PSZ. 44. No. 46974.

[1132] On the legal status of the clergy prior to Peter I, see: The Code of 1649. Ch. 10. Art. 85, 89, 98; 13. Art. 1–4, 6; 20. Art. 67; as well as Patriarch Adrian’s “Articles”: PSZ. 1. No. 1612; cf. 4. No. 1876; Znamensky. Parish Clergy, in: Prav. Sob. 1872. 1. pp. 406–463; 2. pp. 79–128, 148–195. When discussing the legal status, one should also take into account all issues concerning the actual use of church property (Zavyalov (see bibliography for § 10). pp. 22–122).

[1133] On various types of taxes and levies at the end of the 17th century, see: Milyukov, *The State Economy* (2nd ed., 1905); Latkin, *Textbook* (2nd ed., 1909). pp. 440 ff.; cf.: Smolitsch, *Russisches Monchtum*, Ch. 8.

[1134] PSZ. 4. No. 2166; 7. Nos. 4571, 4579; 10. Nos. 7205, 6957; PSPiR. 4. No. 1375; 6. No. 1984; 8. Nos. 2705, 2812; PSZ. 6, No. 4616; 7, No. 6957; 11, No. 8546; 12, No. 9314. On various types of taxes: Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. pp. 204, 220–226. On complaints by the clergy regarding military quartering, filed during the work of the 1767 commission: Collection. 43. pp. 49, 417, 432.

[1135] Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws, 1872. Vol. 1. pp. 417–420.

[1136] PSZ. 6. Nos. 3481, 3454. Art. 10, 3492, 3802, 3854, 3901. Art. 8, 3932, 4035.

[1137] PSZ. 6. Nos. 3932, 4035; 7. No. 4186; PSPiR. 1. No. 153.

[1138] Many decrees were issued by the Senate alone: PSZ. 7. No. 4802; 8. Nos. 5264, 5228, 5882, 5944, 6066; 11. Nos. 8105, 8268. Sometimes certain decrees contradicted others aimed at reducing the number of clergy. Relevant decrees from the era of Catherine II: PSZ, vol. 18, No. 13336; vol. 20, No. 14475; vol. 22, No. 15978. Art. 7–8, 15981. Art. 3–4.

[1139] See § 10 above; Znamensky, op. cit., pp. 426–430.

[1141] PSZ. 8. No. 5944 (1732). In Ukraine, a significant portion of the parish clergy came from the szlachta. On the restriction of their rights under Anna: PSZ. 9. Nos. 6614, 6724; cf.: Titlinov. The Government of Anna Ioannovna. pp. 185, 187–200. The 1767 Decrees: Collection. 43. Appendix; see also: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 1. pp. 431 ff. and § 8 above.

[1142] See §§ 6, 11. Patriarch Nikon’s Opinion on the Code, in: Proceedings of the Department of Russian and Slavic Archaeology. 1861. 2; PSZ. 1. No. 412 (Council of 1667); AI. 4. No. 253 (Council of 1675); AAE. 4. No. 204 (Council of 1675).

[1143] “Articles” by Patriarch Adrian, in: Readings. 1847. No. 4; PSZ. 4. Nos. 1876, 1829, 2310; Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. pp. 123, 198.

[1144] Gorchakov. Op. cit. pp. 123–128.

[1145] PSZ. 6, No. 4113; 7, No. 4190, Articles 8, 16; 8, No. 5818; Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1872, Vol. 1, pp. 439, 441.

[1146] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 441 ff.; cf. Vladimirsky-Budanov. Review (1888). p. 241.

[1147] PSZ. 6. No. 4012; cf. No. 4113.

[1148] Supplement on Priests. Art. 11–12. Cf.: Code of Laws. 16. 2 (1892 ed.). Art. 555–556; 16. 1. Art. 704, as well as 15. 2. Art. 598–599. See Nechaev’s (1890) interpretation of the seal of confession. Pp. 189 ff.

[1149] On the history of the Preobrazhensky Prikaz, see: Veretennikov, V. I., “Essays on the History of the Secret Chancellery of the Petrine Era,” in: ZhMNP. 1907. 9; Znamensky, op. cit., pp. 79–91, 445–449; Titlinov, The Government of Anna Ioannovna. pp. 185–200; Golubev, A., “The Investigative Office (1730–1763),” in: OAMYU, vol. 4 (1884), especially pp. 85–89; cf. § 8.

[1150] See the bibliography in note 62.

[1151] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 460–463; Titlinov. pp. 185–200.

[1152] Latkin. Textbook (2nd ed., 1909). pp. 54 ff.; idem. Draft of a New Code, Compiled by the Legislative Commission of 1754–1766. St. Petersburg, 1893.

[1153] PSZ. 11. Nos. 8546, 8844; PSPiR. E. P. 1. No. 72; PSZ. 12. No. 9314.

[1154] PSZ. 12. Nos. 8904, 8981, 8914; 12. Nos. 9113, 9198, 9483, 9548; 12. No. 9781. Decree in Defense of Parish Clergy Against the Arbitrary Actions of Landowners, dated November 29, 1744: PSZ. 12. No. 9079; cf. 14. No. 10750. Additional factual material: Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. pp. 117–125; see also the “points” of Bishop Porphyry of Belgorod (1767) on the landowners’ harsh treatment of the rural clergy, in: Collection. 43. pp. 430–433.

[1155] As early as the reign of Elizabeth Petrovna, on September 13, 1754, the Senate ruled that representatives of the diocesan administration should be permitted to participate in the adjudication of cases involving clergy in secular courts (PSZ, vol. 14, no. 10293), a ruling that was reaffirmed on March 29, 1766, and November 14, 1791 (ibid., vol. 16, no. 12606; vol. 23, no. 17052). Cf.: PSpPiR, Vol. II, 1, No. 197, 303; PSZ, Vol. 17, No. 12618 (abolition of punishment for missing divine services on feast days). An important decree dated June 7, 1767, prohibited corporal punishment of clergy by order of diocesan administrations (PSZ, vol. 18, No. 12909); it was reaffirmed in 1771 (ibid., vol. 19, No. 13609) and 1797. (ibid., vol. 24, No. 17624). The decree of February 26, 1764, exempted parish clergy from taxes payable to diocesan administrations (PSZ, vol. 16, No. 12060, Art. 5). See also § 15 below.

[1156] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. pp. 158–166; Sbornik. 43. pp. 430 ff., 587.

[1157] PSZ, vol. 18, No. 12966; vol. 21, No. 15143.

[1158] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 169, 174, 167–179. See § 8 on the case of Archbishop Veniamin Putshek-Grigorovich.

[1159] PSZ. 24. No. 17770, 17958. Art. 2–5; 17. No. 19479.

[1160] PSZ. 24. Nos. 17624, 17916; 25. No. 18772. Corporal punishment for members of the nobility was abolished by Catherine II. On the history of corporal punishment—which included not only beatings or mutilating punishments but also the death penalty—see: Latkin. Textbook (2nd ed., 1909). pp. 498–504; Vladimirsky-Budanov. Review (1888). p. 313 ff.; Timofeev. History of Corporal Punishment in Russia. St. Petersburg, 1904. 2nd ed.

[1161] PSZ. 26. No. 19885; 30. No. 23027; 36. Nos. 28160, 28675; 28. No. 21290; 36. No. 28782; 28. No. 22681; 36. No. 28611. On abuses by secular authorities, see: Znamensky. Op. cit., pp. 179–183. In 1804, the clergy was permitted to acquire uninhabited plots of land (PSZ. 28. No. 21290); On October 12, 1821, a decree was issued permitting clergymen who, having been awarded an order (since the time of Paul I), had received personal nobility, to also purchase inhabited lands (i.e., together with serfs) (PSZ. 37. No. 28782).

[1162] PSZ. 31, No. 24945, 24239; 32, No. 25240; 33, No. 25930, 26122; 36, No. 26967; 35. No. 27471; 38. No. 29477, 29711; 39. No. 30019.

[1163] Code of Laws (1832 ed.). 9. Section 2. Articles 173–175, 178–239 (on the white clergy, its rights and duties). In subsequent editions (1857, 1876, 1892), the numbering was slightly altered, as some articles were omitted and new ones were added. Volume 9 contains the main legal provisions regarding the civil rights of the white clergy. The other volumes are devoted to issues of private law. See Introduction B, §§ 6, 11, as well as the summary in: Chizhevsky, pp. 48–51 (here the articles are cited according to the 1876 edition). For later legal provisions, see: Kalashnikov (by subject index).

[1164] Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Articles 148–277; the edition by Palibina (St. Petersburg, 1912) also contains clarifications from the Senate and the Holy Synod.

[1165] These fundamental rights are set forth in Volume 9; the rest are scattered throughout several volumes of the Code of Laws.

[1166] Charter of the Ecclesiastical Consistories (1883). Art. 152. Cf. § 6.

[1167] This has already been discussed in §§ 6, 11, and 13.

[1168] Ivanovsky, V. Textbook on Public Law. Kazan, 1913. 4th ed. pp. 310–313. The passive and active suffrage of the parish clergy was based on the election laws of February 20, 1906, and June 3, 1907 (Code of Laws, Vol. 1. Establishment of the State Duma. Art. 4, 25, 31; Election Regulations. Art. 28, 32, 33). Under the 1906 Regulations on the Establishment of the State Council (Code of Laws, Vol. 1, Art. 13), the clergy was granted the right to six representatives in the State Council, three of whom were appointed by the Synod from the episcopate and three from the white clergy. Through these laws, the white clergy and the bishops (i.e., the monastic order) were not only effectively drawn into participation in state and domestic political affairs but were also drawn into the struggle between political parties. From the bishops’ responses during preparations for the convening of the Local Council (1905–1906), it is evident that the majority of them supported the clergy’s participation in the State Council and the State Duma (Responses. Vol. 3. pp. 72–75, 291, 328 ff., 369 ff., 171–175, etc.). However, there were also voices opposing the participation of Church representatives in political institutions (ibid., pp. 26, 291 ff.; Church Gazette, 1906, No. 6, Appendices, p. 273; No. 9, pp. 440–444; No. 7, pp. 331–334; No. 11, pp. 133–139; 1907, No. 7, pp. 153–156).

[1169] Kapterev, N. Secular Episcopal Officials. Moscow, 1874; Rozanov; Znamensky. Parish clergy; Shimko (see bibliography for § 11); cf.: Milasch, pp. 351 ff., 372–382 (on the rights of diocesan bishops). Although we use the terms “dependence” [Horigkeit] and “dependent” [horig] to characterize feudal relations, it must nevertheless be borne in mind that these relations were entirely different from the serfdom of peasants under their landowners during the period from the early 18th century to 1861.

[1170] On the significance of ecclesiastical consistories, which—under less energetic bishops—often effectively governed the dioceses, see, for example: P. Znamensky, “Letters,” in *At the Trinity in the Academy*. Moscow, 1914. p. 575; “From Podolian Antiquity,” in: Russkiye Stтии, 1911; Rostislavov, Notes, in: Russkiye Stтии, 1880–1882, 1888.

[1171] PSZ. 6. Nos. 3734, 3749; Rozanov. 1. p. 69] and following.[; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. p. 314] and following.[ In 1625, Patriarch Filaret received a charter granting him the privilege of determining the amounts of taxes and other levies himself, but only within the territory of the Patriarchal Province. This charter was confirmed by the tsar in 1657 (PSZ. 1. No. 201). Under Patriarch Joakim, this right was extended to all other dioceses (AI. 4. No. 195; 5. No. 172; Dobroklonsky. 3, in: Dushep. Cht. 1889. 2. pp. 124–128); see also]: Milasch ^{2nd ed., 1905). p. 257.}

[1172] PSZ. 6. No. 3718; Ecclesiastical Regulations. Matters Concerning Bishops. Section 10; On Lay Persons. Section 8; Addendum: PSZ. 6. No. 4022; 7. No. 4190; Znamensky. The Theological School in Russia Before the Reform of 1808. Kazan, 1881. p. 315; Rozanov. 1. p. 66; Shpachinsky. p. 36 ff.; Znamensky, in: Collection of Laws, 1872. 2. pp. 321–324.

[1173] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. p. 325; on the novitiate: Milasch (2nd ed., 1905). p. 270; on ordination to the priesthood: ibid. pp. 271–274

[1174] Rozanov. Vol. 1, pp. 66–68; Vol. 2, No. 1, pp. 105–108; Vol. 2, No. 2, pp. 136–138, 142–144, 269 (incorrect pagination: p. 269 follows p. 144); Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 325 ff.; PSZ. 10. No. 7492.

[1175] PSZ. 4. No. 2353; 32. No. 25328 (final repeal of the “passing letters” on January 31, 1813); Rozanov. 1. pp. 68 ff.; 2. 1. pp. 109–110; 2. 2. pp. 271–273; 3. 1. pp. 176 ff.; 3. 2. p. 71.

[1176] PSZ. 1. No. 412. p. 709; DAI. 5. No. 102. pp. 493–498 (also in: Materials on the History of the Schism, ed. Subbotin. 2. p. 388).

[1177] PSZ. 7. No. 4499; 17. No. 12379; Rozanov. 2. 2. p. 269 ff.

[1178] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 478–482, 517–527, 576–579.

[1179] PSPiR. 3. No. 1138; Rozanov. 2. 1. p. 112.

[1180] Spiritual Regulations. Part 2. Paragraphs 2, 11, 12; Gorchakov. Monastic Order. p. 238 ff.; PSZ. 5. No. 3026; 8. No. 5746; 18. No. 12433; Rozanov. 1. p. 109 ff.

[1181] AI. 4. No. 195; 5. No. 172.

[1182] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 2. p. 345 ff.

[1183] Gorchakov. The Monastic Office. p. 233; Shimko. The Patriarchal Office. p. 123; Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 348 (the latter two historians believe that this tax was collected for the benefit of the diocesan administrations).

[1184] Shimko. Op. cit. pp. 123 ff.; Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 348 ff., 350.

[1185] Shimko. Op. cit., p. 124 ff.; Znamensky. Op. cit., p. 352 ff.

[1186] Shimko. Op. cit. p. 125; Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 128, 352.

[1187] PSZ. 4. Nos. 2170, 2263; 11. No. 8400; Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 356; Pokrovsky. The Kazan Bishop’s Residence. p. 210.

[1188] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 361–367.

[1189] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 368–378. A vivid illustration of how, in the first half of the 18th century, custom could still prevail over government decrees is the reduction in the staff of the Moscow Ecclesiastical Consistory in 1746, when four clerks retained their positions, even though their salaries were now paid not from the treasury but from “incidental revenues,” i.e., voluntary or compulsory contributions from the parish clergy (Rozanov, vol. 2, part 1, p. 41; Shpachinsky, p. 373 ff.).

[1190] See §§ 11, 12; Znamensky, op. cit., p. 353 ff.

[1191] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 381; cf. p. 424.

[1192] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 385–406 (with extensive factual material on the methods and practice of diocesan administration); see §§ 11, 12.

[1193] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 406.

[1194] PSZ. 16. No. 12060. Art. 5; 17. No. 12379. In 1817, there were plans to reinstate the fee for the ordination of clergy. Discussions on the matter dragged on, and in 1822, upon receiving a memorandum from Filaret Drozdov, Alexander I did not approve this proposal from the Synod (Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2, p. 34 ff.).

[1195] PSZ. 17. No. 12598; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. 1. p. 108.

[1196] Znamensky, in: Collection of Legal Documents, 1872, Vol. 2, p. 415 ff.; Zavyalov, pp. 228–232.

[1197] PSZ. 17. No. 12471; 18. Nos. 12902, 12909; 19. No. 13609.

[1198] PSZ. 17. No. 13163; Excerpts… for the year 1866. pp. 105 ff., 108, 169 ff. The first bishop to convene a meeting on his own initiative to elect deans was Archbishop Mikhail Golubovich of Minsk; Bishop Alexy Rzhanytsyn of Tavria followed his example. See § 11.

[1199] 2 PSZ. 37. No. 38414; 38. No. 39481. See § 16 below.

[1200] The pre-council consultations will be discussed further in Volume 2.

[1201] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1875. 3. pp. 332–336.

[1202] PSZ. 25. No. 18273. This decree by Paul I provides for the awarding of only a portion of the Russian orders to the clergy, namely: the Orders of St. Andrew the First-Called, St. Alexander Nevsky, St. Vladimir, and St. Anne. Two orders of Polish origin—the Order of St. Stanislaus and the Order of the White Eagle, established under Catherine II after the Partitions of Poland—were not awarded to the clergy. In addition, clergy members could be awarded the Order of St. George and the St. George Ribbon to the pectoral cross. Certain classes of this order conferred corresponding privileges; for example, the first class conferred hereditary nobility (Code of Laws, Book 9, Article 37 (1876 ed.); Chizhevsky, pp. 39–45; Kalashnikov, Nos. 1152–1157, 1159, 1161).

[1204] PSZ. 24. No. 18273; 25. No. 18801; Chizhevsky. pp. 39–45; Kalashnikov. Nos. 1138–1140, 1168. On these awards, see also: Golubinsky. 1. 2 (1904). pp. 272 ff., 677, 269 ff., 274 ff., 679; Nikolsky, K. A Guide to the Study of the Statutes of the Orthodox Church. St. Petersburg, 1900. 6th ed. pp. 55–57, 65.

[1205] On the incomes of parish clergy in the 16th–17th centuries: Makarii. 8. pp. 240–242, 289–294; 9. pp. 127–129. Dobroklonsky (3, in: Dushep. cht. 1889. 2. pp. 135–139) established that the financial situation of the parish clergy in the 17th century was worse than in the 16th century or the early 17th century. See also: Znamensky, P. “On the Methods of Supporting the Clergy in the 17th and 18th Centuries,” in: Prav. sob. 1865. 1; ibid. On the Status of Russian Clergy in the 17th and 18th Centuries: ibid. 1867. 1; Lyubimov, G. A Historical Survey of the Methods of Supporting the Christian Clergy from Apostolic Times to the 17th–18th Centuries. St. Petersburg, 1851 (with very little on parish clergy); Yushkov, S. Essays on the History of Parish Life in Northern Russia in the 15th–17th Centuries. St. Petersburg, 1913; Zavyalov, pp. 283–300; Bogoslovsky, M. M. Zemstvo Self-Government in the Russian North in the 17th Century. Moscow, 1909–1913. 2 vols. (also in: Readings. 1909–1913) (the works of Yushkov and Bogoslovsky are particularly important for the history of parish life in the 17th century).

[1206] Pososhkov. A Book on Poverty and Wealth, in: Monuments of Russian History. Moscow, 1911. Vol. 8. p. 10.

[1207] Yushkov. Op. cit. p. 43 ff.; Znamensky. The Parish Clergy, in: Prav. Sob. 1872. 3. pp. 189–194, 196, 199–201; Shpachinsky. p. 351 ff. Metropolitan Markell of Pskov (1681–1690), for example, writes about the variety of contracts between parishes and priests (AI. 5. No. 122); cf.: PSZ. 2. Nos. 700, 832.

[1209] Spiritual Regulations. Part 3. Articles 13, 22; PSPiR. 1. No. 596. Articles 3, 22, 23; 2. No. 452. Article 27; PSZ. 6. No. 4009. Article 14.

[1210] PSZ. Vol. 6, No. 3910; Vol. 7, No. 4549; PSPiR. Vol. 2, Nos. 419, 486; Vol. 4, No. 1344.

[1211] Volynsky, A. P. “A General Discussion on the Reform of Internal State Affairs,” in: Readings. 1858. Vol. 2. Miscellany. p. 155.

[1212] Cited from: Solovyov. 20. p. 269.

[1213] Collection. 43. p. 230. For the decree of the town of Krapivna, in the drafting of which the town clergy participated, see: Collection. 93. pp. 491–492. The clergy of the town of Uglich, on the other hand, spoke in favor of providing land (ibid., pp. 541–548).

[1214] PSZ. 11. No. 8625; repeated in 1756 (14. No. 10780) and in 1818 (25. No. 27405).

[1215] Hist. – Stat. St. Petersburg. 5. Section 2. pp. 29, 44 ff.; regarding the Moscow Diocese: Rozanov. 2. 1. p. 171 (on income from religious services, which was significantly higher here than in St. Petersburg); Golubev. The Investigative Office, in: OAMYU. 4; on the situation in Ukraine in the 1840s–1850s, see: Shpachinsky. pp. 351 ff., 365–367.

[1216] Collection. 43. pp. 430–433. The parish clergy of the Kiev Diocese expressed similar views in their “points”: ibid. pp. 444–447; Arseny Matseevich, in: Readings. 1862. 2. p. 31.

[1217] The fees for religious services were determined by the Commission on Church Estates, approved by Catherine II, and published in the form of decrees of the Synod and the Senate (PSPiR, Catherine II, vol. 1, no. 225; PSZ, vol. 17, no. 12378). However, the decree of April 18, 1765, was not enforced everywhere. In Moscow, as late as 1774, parish priests were still charging significantly more for religious services than stipulated by the decree; for example, 25–30 kopecks for a baptism instead of the prescribed 3 kopecks, and 50–80 kopecks for a funeral instead of 10 kopecks. It is difficult to say whether these amounts were paid voluntarily or whether this was a requirement imposed by the priests (Rozanov. 2. 1. p. 337).

[1218] Collection. 43. p. 417. Art. 5.

[1219] Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872. 3. pp. 204–210; Semevsky. The Rural Priest in the Second Half of the 18th Century, in: Russ. st. 1877. 8. pp. 505–512, 529. On the rise in prices in the second half of the 18th century, see: Rozanov. Vol. 2, No. 1, p. 171 ff.; Vol. 2, No. 2, p. 337 ff.; cf.: Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov. p. 624 ff.

[1221] PSZ. 26. No. 19836, cf. No. 19816.

[1223] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2. pp. 225–238, 426–447, 429–442.

[1224] Aksakov. Works. Vol. 4 (1886). pp. 127–150, 143 ff. (first published in: Moscow, 1868).

[1225] In some cities, parishioners preferred to voluntarily allocate certain monthly stipends instead of paying for services, but this arrangement proved short-lived. A similar phenomenon was observed in the Ryazan and Taurida dioceses (Excerpts… for 1866. pp. 130 ff.; Excerpts… for 1870. p. 250).

[1226] 2 PSZ. 48. No. 52028; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 434–436; Nechaev (1890). pp. 356 ff.; Chizhevsky. pp. 33 ff. On the poor financial support of the rural clergy in the 1870s and 1880s, see: Evlogii. The Path of My Life. p. 13.

[1227] Yushkov. Op. cit. pp. 3 ff.; Bogoslovsky. Op. cit., vol. 2, pp. 19 ff. Originally, “ruga” referred only to payments in kind (primarily grain); later, land allocated to the clergy was also included under the term “ruga” (Golubinsky. 1. 1. (1901), p. 532).

[1228] PSZ. 2. No. 1664; 4. No. 2194.

[1229] PSZ. 5. No. 3175; 6. No. 4120; 7. No. 4190. Art. 23–24; Zavyalov. p. 305.

[1230] PSZ. 8. No. 5631; 9. Nos. 6777, 6878; 10. No. 7387; PSPiR. 7. No. 2311. See: Titlinov. The Government of Anna Ioannovna. p. 178 ff.

[1231] PSZ. 10. No. 7314; PSPiR. 7. No. 2585; Ist. – Stat. St. Petersburg. 5. Section 2. pp. 45–49 (data on contributions to individual churches).

[1232] Zavyalov. Appendix 6. The list of parishes also included Georgian clergy who had fled to Moscow and received financial assistance there (PSZ. 22. No. 16448).

[1234] PSZ. 30. Nos. 23122–23124. See Section 2 of the commission’s report dated June 26, 1808: “On the Maintenance of Church Clergy.”

[1235] This report is also quoted at length by Znamensky (Prav. sob. 1872, vol. 3, pp. 408 ff.).

[1236] PSZ. 6. No. 3746; No. 4669a (in the appendix to Vol. 40 dated February 6, 1725); 4490a (ibid.); 9. No. 6994; 11. No. 8287; 30. No. 23254; 32. Nos. 25658, 28396; 2 PSZ. 12. No. 10605.

[1237] 2 PSZ. 2. No. 1081; 3. Nos. 1697, 2034, 2245; 4. No. 3323. The law of December 6, 1829 (4. No. 3323) also included new provisions regarding the land holdings of the parish clergy.

[1238] 2 PSZ. 16. No. 15152; 17. Nos. 15189, 15470, 15873; Excerpts… for 1839. pp. 48 ff.; Excerpts… for 1844. pp. 55–57; see also: 14. No. 12458.

[1239] 2 PSZ. 18. No. 16678, 16852; Excerpts… for 1854. p. 41.

[1240] 2 PSZ. 33. No. 32788; Excerpts… for 1861. p. 161; Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. pp. 291–298. In 1859, the Holy Synod even drafted a plan under which all parish clergy were to be provided with a salary, but due to a lack of funds, such plans remained nothing more than good intentions.

[1241] Excerpts… for 1867. p. 163 ff.; Excerpts… for 1868. p. 238; Excerpts… for 1870. pp. 239–243; Excerpts… for 1871. pp. 197, 207; 2 PSZ. 48. No. 52048; Report… for 1894–1895. p. 427 (there were already 19,000 parishes in which the clergy received a salary); Review… of Alexander III. pp. 387–398, 405–410; 3 PSZ. 4. No. 2219, 2503, 2629. However, along with the increase in state subsidies, the number of new parishes also grew (Pobedonostsev. Letters. 2. p. 43).

[1242] 3 PSZ. 22. No. 22581; 30. No. 33701; 31. Nos. 34890, 35315; Stenographic Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation. Session 2. Meeting 34. p. 2091; Session 5. Supplement No. 119; 4th Convocation. Session 4. Meeting 27. Supplement. p. 2379. By early 1913, a total of 31,218 parishes were provided with salaries (Report… for 1911–1912. pp. 174–188); a summary is provided here, showing that salary levels varied considerably across different dioceses (pp. 184–186).

[1243] Teodorovich. On the Fortieth Anniversary of My Ministry: Memoirs. Vol. 2. p. 109.

[1244] Shimko. Op. cit. pp. 101–104; Dobroklonsky. 3, in: Spiritual Readings, vol. 2. pp. 121–124, 135–136; Yushkov. Op. cit. pp. 18 ff., 44 ff.; Code of 1649. Ch. 18. Art. 10; OAMYU. 2 (1875) (Inventory… 1620–1705); PSZ. 2. No. 633, Art. 14; No. 889, 1044, Art. 3; No. 700, Art. 18. See also: Zavyalov, pp. 283 ff.

[1245] PSZ. 5. No. 3175; 6. No. 4120; PSPiR. 2. No. 371.

[1246] Shimko. Op. cit., p. 104; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1872, Vol. 3, pp. 233, 239 ff., 282–298, 303–309; Shpachinsky, pp. 351 ff.

[1247] PSZ. 14. No. 10237. Ch. 10. Art. 1, 4; 15. No. 10989.

[1248] PSZ. 17. Nos. 12570, 12659 (for the instruction of May 25, 1766, see also: PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. No. 312); 17. Nos. 12711, 12929; 18. No. 12925. The process of land surveying and allocation proceeded very slowly (see the later decrees of the Senate on this matter: PSZ, Vol. 18, No. 13275 (1775); Vol. 20, Nos. 14377, 14750 (1778)). The reasons lay mainly in the fact that landowners did not comply with the decrees regarding the allocation of land from their own estates (Znamensky, op. cit., p. 327 ff.).

[1249] PSZ. 24. No. 18273; 25. No. 18316 (dated January 11, 1798), 18500, 19182; 26. No. 19674.

[1250] PSZ. 26. No. 19816; 26. No. 20150; 28. Nos. 21148, 21149, 21195; 30. No. 23994; 32. Nos. 25520, 26697. In the Kazan and Simbirsk provinces, the land distribution was not completed until 1825 (Znamensky, Op. cit., p. 345).

[1251] 2 PSZ. 4. No. 3323; cf.: Code of Laws. 9. Art. 404 (1876 ed.).

[1252] 2 PSZ. 17. Nos. 15872, 15873.

[1253] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2, pp. 165, 422 ff., 425 ff.

[1254] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 44121; 45. No. 48139, 50726; Excerpts… for 1869. p. 139; Excerpts… for 1870. p. 236; Excerpts… for 1872. pp. 187 ff.; 2 PSZ. 48. No. 48433; Code of Laws. 9, 10, 4; Kalashnikov. Nos. 616–646, 1989–2009.

[1256] PSZ. 23. No. 17004; 21. No. 15255.

[1257] Znamensky, in: Legal Collection 1872. 3. p. 335.

[1259] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 2. pp. 91 ff., 95–107.

[1261] 2 PSZ. 41. Nos. 43288, 44970; 44. No. 47138; 46. Nos. 49382, 49361; Excerpts… for 1866. pp. 99–101; Excerpts… for 1878. pp. 272 ff. See also: 2 PSZ. 47. No. 51250. For further amendments to this law, see: Kalashnikov. No. 1434 ff.

[1262] Excerpts… for 1866. pp. 102, 104; Kalashnikov. No. 2853.

[1263] Report… for 1887. pp. 146–155; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 402–406.

[1264] 3 PSZ. 22. No. 21564; the charter was also published in: Nechaev. 1915. 12th ed. Appendices. pp. 133–139.

[1265] In his work “The Parish Clergy,” P. Znamensky touches only briefly on this issue. Some material on conditions in Ukraine, where the rural clergy came to occupy a completely unique position in the course of historical development, has been collected in Shpachinsky’s work. In Semevsky’s works, the impact of serfdom on the status of the rural clergy is also discussed only sporadically. A large amount of factual material on this subject can be found in the memoirs that have been taken into account in our account. The topic of this paragraph is of great interest to historians not only because it has not yet been sufficiently researched, but also because it is highly significant for the history of the Synodal period. Unfortunately, we are compelled to present the extensive material we have gathered here in an extremely condensed form. Various facts illuminating this issue have already been cited in §§ 13–16.

[1266] There is a vast body of literature on the development of serfdom in the 17th century, addressing both the issue as a whole and its individual aspects. We will mention the following here: *Russian History in Essays and Articles*, ed. M. V. Dovnar-Zapolsky. Kyiv, 1912. Vol. 3. pp. 34–84, 267–311; Engelmann, I., *Die Leibeigenschaft in Ru?land*. Dorpat, 1884; Grekov, B. D., *Peasants in Russia*. Moscow, 1946; Vladimirsky-Budanov; Filippov, A. (bibliography, general literature b); cf.: Smolitsch, *Russian Monasticism*, Ch. 8 (here and in the bibliography).

[1267] Vernadsky, G. “Remarks on the Legal Nature of Serfdom,” in: Collection in Honor of P. B. Struve. Prague, 1925. pp. 235–265; Vladimirsky-Budanov. Review. 1888. p. 222 ff.

[1268] The government itself was forced to acknowledge the existence of abuses by noble landowners against the rural clergy and repeatedly attempted to curb such arbitrariness, but to no avail. See, among other sources: PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 780 (1744); 3. No. 980 (1746), 1018 (1746); PSZ. 18. No. 13286 (1769); Dubrovin, N. Pugachev and His Accomplices. St. Petersburg, 1884. Vol. 1, pp. 358–367; Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1872. Vol. 2, pp. 116, 125 ff.; Sbornik. Vol. 43, pp. 430 ff.

[1269] Samarin. Works. 1880. Vol. 5. p. 254.

[1270] See § 14. Given the widespread dependence of the rural clergy on landowners, the government’s demand that the clergy report to civil authorities instances where landowners forced peasants to work on Sundays and holidays (PSZ 35, No. 27270 (1819)) seems rather comical.

[1271] Pososhkov. A Book on Poverty and Wealth. Moscow, 1911. pp. 2–13.

[1272] Volynsky, in: *Readings*. 1858. Miscellany. p. 155; Tatishchev, in: Znamensky. *Parish Clergy*. Kazan, 1873. p. 722; Arseny Matseevich, in: *Readings*. 1862. Vol. 2. p. 31.

[1273] Bolotov. Notes (published by the Russian Archaeological Society). Vol. 1, pp. 148 ff., 283; Vol. 2, p. 794; Vol. 3, p. 47; 4. p. 1080; cf.: Semevsky. “The Rural Priest,” in: Russian Articles, 1877, vol. 8, pp. 501–538; Dobrynin, in: Russian Articles, 1871, vol. 4, pp. 176, 214, et al.

[1274] Collection. Vol. 14, p. 396; Vol. 48, pp. 276, 463, 556; Vol. 107, p. 50. One nobleman even proposed that landowners “certify” rural priests regarding their “suitability” (ibid., Vol. 14, p. 35). See the clergy’s complaints, ibid. 43, pp. 564, 571 ff., 424, 432, 428, 438.

[1275] Vinogradov, V. “Platon and Filaret, Metropolitans of Moscow,” in: BV. 1913, p. 319.

[1276] PSZ. Vol. 25, Nos. 17959, 18391, 18373; Vol. 26, No. 19377.

[1277] Karamzin. “On Ancient and Modern Russia,” in: Pypin. The Social Movement under Alexander I. St. Petersburg, 1900. 3rd ed. p. 533.

[1278] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2. pp. 156–170, 207–242.

[1279] Aksakov’s articles were published in his Collected Works. Vol. 4 (1886). pp. 3–358. Elagin’s works: The White Clergy and Its Interests. St. Petersburg, 1874; The Spirit and Merits of Monasticism for the Church and Society. St. Petersburg, 1874 (containing numerous critical remarks about the White Clergy). See § 12. Note 107.

[1281] Sergievsky was also a professor of theology at Moscow University (1858–1884). His lectures, which were apologetic in nature and in which he primarily examined the positivist and materialist views of the 1860s and 1870s from the perspective of Christian doctrine, were extremely popular among students. Of particular interest in this regard is his essay “On the Best Organization of Theology Departments in Our Universities,” in: Pravda Obrazovanii, 1865, no. 10. He also frequently delivered apologetic lectures outside the university, to audiences from various segments of Moscow’s population. These lectures were later published in three volumes: a) Public Lectures. Moscow, 1871; b) On the Fundamental Truths of Christianity. Moscow, 1872; c) On the Biblical Account of Creation in Relation to Natural History, in: Pravda Obrazovania 1873, nos. 2–3; 1874, nos. 3–4; 1875, no. 6. Sergievsky’s activities, which constituted a kind of extra-ecclesiastical preaching directed primarily at an intellectual audience, were quite typical for that time. Others worked in the same vein, for example, Archbishop Ambrose Klyucharev of Kharkiv and Archbishop Nikanor Brovkovich of Odessa. We will return to these issues when we discuss preaching specifically (Rhodosky, p. 431; RBS [Sabanev-Smyslov, 1905]. p. 350). Smirnov-Platonov, who was closely associated with the Slavophiles (A. S. Khomyakov, A. K. Koshelev, Y. F. Samarin, I. S. Aksakov), was among the finest representatives of the Moscow parish clergy. As a priest at the Church of the Resurrection on Ostozhenka, he maintained close ties with the residents of this district of the city, where the “nests” of the Moscow nobility were located. He was a gifted preacher, gave public lectures, and engaged in charitable work (At the Trinity in the Academy, 1914). Preobrazhensky served as editor of the journal *Orthodox Review* until 1891, and from 1875 onward he managed the publication independently. He founded the “Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment” and the journal *Readings in the Society of Lovers of Spiritual Enlightenment*. The Moscow Diocesan Library also owes its founding to this highly respected representative of the 19th-century parish clergy. A. M. Ivantsov-Platonov was the first professor of church history at Moscow University (1872–1894). Among well-known Church historians, he was one of the first critics of the state church: *At the Trinity Academy*. pp. 227–232; Korsunsky, I. “Archpriest A. M. Ivantsov-Platonov,” in: *BV*. 1894. 4. pp. 523–558; Trubetskoy, S. “The Scholarly Work of A. M. Ivantsov-Platonov,” in: Questions of Philosophy and Psychology, vol. 27, pp. 193–220.

[1282] D. I. Florinsky is also known as a teacher of canon law at educational institutions in St. Petersburg and as a writer (Rhodosky, pp. 509 ff.). I. E. Flerov, a popular preacher and teacher of canon law, was a champion of parish brotherhoods and the author of the work “On Orthodox Church Brotherhoods” (Rodossky, p. 509). N. S. Zarkevich (auxiliary bishop of Kherson from 1884) gained fame, like many of his contemporaries, for his apologetic sermons and popular writings, such as *Materialism, Science, and Christianity* (28 essays). Moscow, 1867–1880 (Rodossky, p. 306). See below for information on A. V. Gumilevsky.

[1283] The social and public status of the parish clergy was the main theme of the journal *Church and Public Herald* (St. Petersburg, 1874–1884), published by A. I. Popovitsky, a graduate of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy; he was a journalist with a sharp pen, and under Pobedonostsev he was forced to shut down his journal. Later, from 1885 to 1904, Popovitsky edited the popular religious journal *Stranik* (*The Wanderer*), the content of which shows that the publicist was forced to submit to the will of the all-powerful Chief Prosecutor and work in accordance with the latter’s views. The first of the aforementioned magazines, in which Popovitsky very often criticized bishops and their activities, even found unofficial support from Chief Prosecutor D. A. Tolstoy, who had always disliked the Russian hierarchy (Rhodosky, p. 370). A characteristic feature of the 1860s and 1870s was that it was precisely the members of the parish clergy who, through their writing, defended the Church and the clergy against constant, often superficial attacks by the intelligentsia.

[1284] The issue of the election of parish clergy, which was vigorously debated in the 1860s and 1870s, did not disappear from the pages of church journals and other church literature in later years; indeed, in 1905–1906, during preparations for the Local Council, it was placed on the agenda with renewed vigor. Archpriest M. Ya. Moroshkin, author of many works on Church history, defended the principle of election in the press. His essay “On the Elective Principle in the White Clergy” (1870) provoked an anonymous response: The Truth About the Elected Clergy. St. Petersburg, 1870, whose author, Consistory official S. I. Shirsky, was inspired to write it by the Holy Synod. During the Pobedonostsev era, Ivantsov-Platonov—whom we already know—wrote another work in defense of the principle of election, “On the Restoration of the Elected Clergy,” which was published in I. S. Aksakov’s journal *Rus* (1881, Nos. 11–17). As is well known, Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov was a staunch opponent of the principle of election: *Collection of Opinions*. 5. 2. No. 834. The abundance of literature on the situation of the parish clergy in the 1860s and 1870s was generated not only by the spirit of the times but also served as a response to the books by Bellustine, Dobrynin, Rostislavov, and others (see bibliography for §§ 13–16), as well as to scholarly research, such as Rozanov’s work (see bibliography for Introduction B). Many facts that had previously been known only to a narrow circle of insiders became public knowledge, since during the reign of Nicholas I they were not permitted to be published in print.

[1285] For Gagarin’s “Note,” see: Prugavin, A. S., Old Belief in the Second Half of the 19th Century. Moscow, 1904. p. 73 ff.

[1286] In Ukraine, in Kyiv, a “burs” was the name given to the dormitory for students of the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy (later the Kyiv Theological Academy); the students living there were called “bursaks.” D. I. Rostislavov, in his “Notes on the Orthodox Clergy” (Russian articles, 1880–1894), described such a “bursa” at the Ryazan Seminary in the 1820s.

[1287] On Leskov, see: Durylin, S. “The Religious Works of N. S. Leskov,” in *Christian Thought*. Kyiv, 1916; Muller, E. “N. S. Leskov: His Life and Work,” in *Collected Works*. Munich, 1914; Kovalevskij, P. N. S. Leskov: Peintre méconnu de la vie nationale russe. Paris, 1925; Rossler, M. L. Nikolai Leskov und seine Darstellung des religiösen Menschen. Weimar, 1939 (also as a doctoral dissertation, Berlin, 1939); Setschkareff, V. N. S. Leskov: Sein Leben und sein Werk. Wiesbaden, 1959.

[1288] S. Eleonsky (pseudonym of S. N. Milovsky) published short stories about the lives of the rural clergy, for example: a) “At the Priest’s House”: Russkoe Bogatstvo. 1895. No. 2; b) “Solomon’s Judgment”; c) “The Widower,” and others. His criticism of the clergy fully corresponded to the views of liberal, non-Marxist intellectual circles distanced from the Church, who eagerly read *Russian Wealth*, which later became the mouthpiece of the Narodnik movement—a movement that, in terms of its political views, was by no means revolutionary. See: Pokrovsky, V. “The Clergy in the Stories of S. Eleonsky,” in *Sovremenny Mir*. 1911. No. 10 (a critical study unfavorable to the clergy, entirely in the spirit of *Sovremenny Mir*, which reflected the radical views of circles inclined toward Marxism). The criticism of the clergy was even sharper in the short stories of S. I. Gusev-Orenburgsky. Among his works, we will mention the following here: a) “The Deacon and Death,” b) “The Good Shepherd,” c) “Father Pamphil,” d) “In the Parish,” and others. See the following works about him: Veselovsky, Yu. “A Closed World,” in *Vestnik Znania*, 1903, No. 9; Redko, A. “Literary Observations,” in *Russkoe Bogatstvo*, 1905, No. 10.

[1289] S. Ya. Elpatievsky served for many years as editor of the journal *Russian Wealth*. Publication of his works: *Short Stories*. St. Petersburg, 1904. 3 vols. Kruglov’s short stories: a) “A Merry Funeral,” b) “Domna the Rector’s Wife,” c) “The Wayward Sexton,” d) “The Elder Filimon,” and others. Cf.: Ist. v. 1916. No. 10. Potapenko’s collected works comprise many volumes. Izmailov was a student at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. His most significant novella is “In the Dormitory.” St. Petersburg, 1903. Chekhov’s works are well known.

[1290] See on this subject: Livanov; Lototsky. From Everyday Life; M.-sky. From the Seminary; Tikhomirov; Turchinovsky; Vinogradov, V. K.; the works by Dobrynin, Belyustin, and Rostislavov already mentioned above, as well as: Barsov, N. I., “A St. Petersburg Parish Priest in the Second Half of the 18th and Early 19th Centuries,” in: Christian Readings, 1876, No. 2; From Podolsk’s Past, in: Russian Articles 1911; Semevsky. The Rural Priest in the Second Half of the 18th Century, in: Russian Articles 1877, No. 8. A great deal of material can also be found in the journals *Stranik* and *Russian Pilgrim*.

[1291] In the early 1860s, parish clergy also discussed the issue of organizing parish schools for the people, where education and instruction would be based on the Christian faith. See: “On the Position of the Clergy Regarding Public Education,” in: Prav. ob. 1862. 1; Gilyarov-Platonov, N., “On Primary Public Education,” in: Supplements 21 (1862). This issue was also of interest to the bishops (Savva, Chronicle, vol. 2, pp. 63, 694 ff.). This question will be examined in detail in Volume 2.

[1292] Historical and Statistical Review of St. Petersburg, vol. 5, pp. 345–350; Bazarov, I. I., Memoirs, in: Russian Articles, 1901, vol. 7, pp. 83–86; Skrobotov. Parish Priest A. V. Gumilevsky. St. Petersburg, 1871 (a detailed account of his activities); PBE. 4; Pravda. 1863. 5.

[1293] (Gorchakov, M. M.) A. T. Nikolsky (1821–1878), parish priest of the Church of the Entry into Jerusalem (Znamenskaya). St. Petersburg, 1878. On Pokrovsky: Rodossky. p. 491; on Poletaev—ibid. p. 363.

[1294] On Polisadov: Rodossky. p. 366; RBS (Plavilshchikov-Prinos, 1905). p. 359; Savva. Chronicle. 7. p. 170; his sermons: Words, Teachings, and Speeches. St. Petersburg, 1886–1887. 3 vols.; see also: Ist. – stat. Petersburg. 6. p. 283. On Smiryagin: Rodossky. p. 455 ff.

[1295] On Bryantsev: Vengerov. Vol. 1, p. 358; Rodossky, p. 55. On Barsov: Rodossky, p. 32; Vengerov, Vol. 1, p. 167. On Demkin: Rodossky, p. 133. On Rozhdestvensky: *Alexander Vasilyevich Rozhdestvensky, the People’s Publisher*. St. Petersburg, 1907. Rozhdestvensky was the publisher of the popular magazines *The Christian’s Rest*, *A Sober Life*, and *The Sunday Bell* (*Istorichesky Vestnik*, 1907, No. 109, p. 1008).

[1296] On Ornatsky: *Istorichesky Vestnik*, 1910, no. 122. pp. 1210 ff. Ornatsky was killed in the spring of 1918 in St. Petersburg by agents of the Bolshevik authorities. He was the chairman of the “Society for Religious and Moral Enlightenment” (Polsky, M. *New Russian Martyrs*. First Collection of Materials. Jordanville (USA), 1949. pp. 184–186). We should also mention the following representatives of the St. Petersburg parish clergy who were engaged in social and charitable work: the talented preacher Archpriest M. Ya. Predtechensky (1833–1883) (Rhodosky, pp. 380 ff.); Archpriest D. A. Tikhomirov († 1887), known for his public apologetic lectures in Solyanoe Gorodok (St. Petersburg) (Rodossky, p. 490); Archpriest V. M. Gilyarovsky († 1902), a remarkable St. Petersburg preacher for nearly 50 years (Rhodosky, p. 105; Vengerov, 1); Archpriest D. Ya. Nikitin (d. 1900), who became famous for his struggle against the “Pashkovtsy” sect in the 1870s (Rhodosky, p. 299 ff.).

[1297] On V. P. Nechaev, later Bishop of Kostroma (1891–1898), see: PBE. 3. Cols. 514–516. On Ambrose Klyucharev: Vengerov. 1. pp. 481–485; his obituary in: Ist. v. 1901. 86. p. 379; Vinogradov, V. Guardian of the Christian World in the Second Half of the 19th Century. Sergiev Posad, 1912. His sermons were published in numerous editions; see vol. 2, section on sermons.

[1298] Report… for 1908–1909, pp. 25–29. His major works: Complete Works (up to 1890). Kronstadt; St. Petersburg, 1890–1892, 3 vols.; 2nd ed., 1893–1895, and subsequent editions; My Life in Christ: A Diary. St. Petersburg, n.d. (several editions); The Knowledge of God and Self-Knowledge Acquired Through Experience. St. Petersburg, 1900. A very extensive bibliography on John of Kronstadt is provided by Semenov-Tyan-Shansky. Father John of Kronstadt. New York, 1955 (this volume also includes a list of Father John’s own writings); Sursky, I. K. Father John of Kronstadt. Belgrade, 1936–1941. 2 vols.; A Treasury of Russian Spirituality. pp. 346–416. Cf.: Nikanor. Notes, in: Russ. Arch. 1906. 3. p. 37 and interesting notes by the American ambassador in St. Petersburg, E. White: White, A. D. *Aus meinem Diplomatenleben*. Leipzig, 1906. p. 199; Savva. Chronicle. 6. p. 114 (entry dated December 17, 1883, regarding the healing of the sick by John of Kronstadt); Rodossky. p. 432 ff.; Hauptmann, P. “Johann von Kronstadt—the Great Shepherd of the Russian Church,” in: Kirche im Osten. 3 (1960).

[1299] When discussing preaching activities, parish schools, and other issues, we will speak further about many representatives of the White clergy. See also §§ 19–20 below on the White clergy as professors at theological academies, and §§ 28 and 29 of Volume 2.

[1301] Pastor Dalton (Dalton H. The Russian Church. Leipzig, 1892. p. 32 ff.) also notes that the White clergy supported reforms. The aforementioned criticism directed at the white clergy was reflected both in the cited literature and in the speeches of representatives of the liberal parties in the State Duma (see § 9).

[1302] It is noteworthy that even the conservative State Council, in 1887, spoke out against transferring public education to the parish clergy, as Pobedonostsev had desired (Rozhdestvensky. Historical Review of the Activities of the Ministry of Public Education. St. Petersburg, 1902. p. 652).

[1303] Pobedonostsev. The Moscow Collection. Moscow, 1901. 5th ed. pp. 165, 252.

[1304] See § 9 (conclusion); Teodorovich, T. On the Fortieth Anniversary of My Ministry: Memoirs. Warsaw, 1935. Vol. 1. Appendix. pp. 13–16. Numerous magazine articles written by members of the parish clergy in 1905–1906 unequivocally demonstrate his desire for reforms in all areas of church life. And even later, these voices did not fall silent; an example of this is the magazine *Tserkovnaya Pravda* (*Church Truth*), published by Archpriest A. Maltsev, a priest at the Russian Embassy in Berlin. The articles by D. Filosofov, published in the Cadet Party’s newspaper *Rech* and its supplement *Yearbook* from 1912 to 1914, serve as the most characteristic examples of criticism directed at the Church and the clergy. Monarchist—or, more precisely, right-wing radical—circles also had their own publications, such as *Golos Tserkvi* (Moscow), *Troitskie Listki* (Sergiev Posad), *Inok* (Pochaev Lavra), *Kolos* (St. Petersburg), and others. (see § 9, note 491). It was precisely at this time, when the Pobedonostsev era seemed to have already come to an end, when the futility of hopes for the convening of a Local Council had become evident, and when Chief Prosecutor V. K. Sabler, through his connections with Rasputin’s circle, was undermining the authority of the Church, it was precisely then that, more clearly than ever before, the gulf between the episcopate and the scholarly monastic community, on the one hand, and the lay clergy, on the other, became apparent (Teodorovich. Op. cit. 1, p. 247; 2, p. 158).

[1305] The journal *Tserkovnaya Pravda* (*Church Truth*), published in Berlin without church censorship, repeatedly emphasized the need to convene a Local Council.

[1306] For information on the work of the White clergy in theological educational institutions, see §§ 19–21. For other aspects of their activities—spiritual care for the people, preaching, and missionary work—see Volume 2.

[1307] The entire faculty of theological academies and seminary instructors came from poor families of priests, deacons, and cantors. Many figures in culture and science, as well as statesmen, also came from the clerical class, including M. M. Speransky, I. A. Vyshnegradsky (Minister of Finance under Alexander III), historians S. M. Solovyov and V. G. Vasilyevsky (a graduate of the Kostroma Seminary), V. O. Klyuchevsky, physiologist I. P. Pavlov (a graduate of the Ryazan Seminary), and geologist and soil scientist V. V. Dokuchaev.

[1308] Sukhomlinov, M. History of the Russian Academy. St. Petersburg, 1874. Vol. 1, pp. 257 ff. Filaret (Obzor, 1884. 2) mentions many members of the White clergy who distinguished themselves as writers, scholars, and translators. Such examples existed as early as the second half of the 18th century, not to mention later periods (Barsov, N. “A St. Petersburg Parish Priest,” in: Christian Readings, 1876, Vol. 2, pp. 643–673). The Russian Academy should not be confused with the Academy of Sciences. The latter was founded by Peter I, although it was officially opened only after his death, on December 29, 1726; The Russian Academy, on the other hand, was established on the initiative of Princess E. R. Dashkova by Catherine II on September 30, 1783. Its mission was to study the Russian language and literature; in 1841, it was incorporated into the Academy of Sciences as its Second Department—Russian Language and Literature.

[1309] This becomes evident upon reviewing the tables of contents of the aforementioned journals. Rodossky (1908) provides a wealth of material for assessing the literary activities of students from the white clergy at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy.

[1310] Decree of the Minister of Public Education dated September 8, 1908 (based on decrees of the Holy Synod dated May 30 and June 19 of the same year): ZhMNP. 1908. No. 11. Section 1. p. 25.

[1311] PSZ. 4. No. 2070, 2263; 5. No. 3006 (Military Code). Chapters 8 and 29; 6. No. 3485 (Naval Code). Book 3. Ch. 1, Art. 13, 14; Ch. 9, Art. 1; No. 3759; 7, No. 4147; PSPiR. 2, No. 263, 381; 3, No. 985; PSZ. 16, No. 12596. On learned hieromonks of the Navy—natives of Ukraine: Kharlamovich. Little Russian Influence. Vol. 1, pp. 809–821; Barsov, in: Christian Readings 1878, p. 481 ff.

[1312] PSPiR, Vol. 2, Nos. 263, 289; the clergy of the Navy were subordinate to the Bishop of Pskov. During the reign of Elizabeth, the provision was reaffirmed that regimental priests were to be subordinate to the diocesan bishops in their respective garrison locations (PSPiR. E. P. 2. Nos. 605, 674).

[1313] PSZ. 24. No. 17833. Part 2. Ch. 12; 25. Nos. 18115, 18418 (confirmed in 1804); 28. Nos. 21452, 21454; 26. Nos. 19269, 19415, 19835, 19843 (on the subordination of military and naval clergy to the Holy Synod); 28. No. 21242, 21469; 27. No. 19789 (on pensions for military and naval priests).

[1314] PSZ. 32. No. 24975; 2 PSZ. 7. No. 5310; 19. No. 18488; 15. No. 13721; 21. No. 19879; Berdnikov. A Brief Course. 1913. 2nd ed. 2. pp. 148–159.

[1315] Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 145. Under Nicholas I, the senior chaplains of the army and navy were members of the Holy Synod (Collection. 113. 1. pp. 78–82).

[1316] 2 PSZ. 33. No. 33563; Report… for 1883. pp. 12 ff.; Report… for 1887. p. 14; Savva. Chronicle. 8. p. 233; Compilation of Military Regulations. Vol. 1. Part 3. Art. 370; Church News, 1888. No. 10. pp. 53–55; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 38 ff., 84–86, 40–43; Church Gazette. 1890. Nos. 27, 29; Nechaev (1890). pp. 54 ff., supplement (Regulations of 1890).

[1317] Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 144; Chizhevsky. pp. 6 ff.; Regulation of 1890, Art. 34; 3 PSZ. 31. No. 36302; Shavelsky. 1. pp. 27, 35, et al. For many regiments in the 19th and 20th centuries, churches were built with funds from the Ministry of War; in many cities (in Poland, Siberia, and Turkestan), these churches also served as parish churches for the Orthodox population. The generous financial support provided to the military clergy attracted many priests. Typically, those selected for this role were priests who had received particularly favorable evaluations from diocesan administrations or those who had graduated from a theological academy. Protopresbyters A. A. Zhelobovsky (1888–1910) and G. Shavelsky (1911–1917) also paid special attention to preaching and pastoral abilities. In 1912, the military clergy administered 809 churches and comprised 744 priests, 138 deacons, and 95 cantors (Report… for 1911–1912. Appendix. pp. 11, 45).

[1318] Izvekov, M. “The Confessor of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich: Archpriest A. S. Postnikov of the Annunciation,” in: Christian Readings 1902, no. 1; the same author, “Tsar’s Confessors in the 17th Century,” in: Moscow Diocesan Gazette, 1903. On Dubyansky: Popov, Arseny Matseevich. p. 415; Shakhovskoy, Notes (1810). p. 68; Historical and Statistical St. Petersburg, vol. 6. p. 43; RBS, Dabelov-Dyadkovsky (1905). p. 715 ff.

[1319] On Panfilov: Znamensky, in: Prav. Sob. 1875. 2. pp. 34–38; Sukhomlinov. History of the Russian Academy. 1 (1874). pp. 278 ff.; RBS. Pavel-Pyotr (1902). pp. 273–285; Catalog, in: Readings. 1917. 2. p. 18.

[1320] On Muzovsky: Collection. 113. 1. p. 77; Maltsev (1911). p. 2; on Bazhanov: Collection. 113. 1. pp. 133–139; cf. his “Autobiography” in: Ist. v. 1883. 12; RBS. Aleksinsky-Bestuzhev (1900). p. 402 ff.; on Vasilyev: Shavelsky. 1. p. 48 et al. Pensions for the court clergy were introduced by decree of April 26, 1834 (2 PSZ. 9. No. 7017).

[1321] Maltsev (1911). pp. 1–13, 342–352, 361–410 (this contains a complete list of Russian churches outside Russia, as well as detailed information on their origins and subsequent history); Report… for 1911–1912. p. 77. Appendix. p. 11; Cyprian Kern, in: Orthodox Thought 11 (1957) (here, the canonical subordination of churches abroad and their clergy to the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg—and in particular to the bishop appointed in 1907 specifically to administer them—is quite rightly regarded as a violation of the canonical rights of the Ecumenical Patriarch (p. 103). Such violations of the patriarch’s canonical rights and dignity by the Russian Holy Synod and the Russian government during the synodal period were not uncommon. This will be discussed further in Vol. 2). For a list of clergy serving abroad and Russian churches in Europe as of 1905, see: Echos d’Orient. 8 (1905). P. 231 ff. After 1764, churches and clergy abroad were supported by funds from the Board of Finance (PSZ. 16. No. 12186; 30. No. 14617; 21. No. 15778; 22. No. 16969). Later, responsibility for their maintenance was transferred to the Collegium and then to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs: Barsov. Collection of Current Regulations. Vol. 1, pp. 241–246; Berdnikov. Op. cit., pp. 160–161.

[1323] Titov. The Russian Orthodox Church in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Vol. 2, No. 1 (1905). p. 194. Notes 193–212; Pokrovsky. Russian Dioceses in the 18th Century, in: Prav. Sob. 1912. Vol. 1. pp. 150 ff.; Kharlamovich. Op. cit. pp. 864 ff. Cf.: PSZ. Vol. 2. No. 1188 (treaty with Poland of April 24, 1686).

[1324] Alexandrenko. The Russian Embassy Church (1895); idem. The English Press and the Attitude of Russian Diplomatic Agents Toward It in the 18th Century, in: Russian Articles 1895, no. 10; The London Priest Y. I. Smirnov, in: Russian Archives 1879, vol. 2. pp. 354–356 (on his activities as a “diplomatic representative” in London under Paul I); Aleksandrenko. Emperor Paul I and the English, in: Russian Articles 1879, no. 10. On E. I. Popov, see: Rodossky. pp. 373–375; *Russian Articles*, 1875, no. 12, pp. 734–741; Filaret, *Collection of Opinions*, vol. 5, no. 1, pp. 278–285. Cf. in vol. 2 on relations with the Anglican Church in the 19th century. In 1749, Antipa Marianov, a priest of the Russian Church in London, reported to the Holy Synod that “some Anglicans” had converted to the Greek Orthodox faith (PSPiR. E. P. 3. No. 1114).

[1325] Maltsev (1911). Pp. 175 ff. (which also discusses other churches in Germany); cf.: ibid. (1906). pp. 21 ff. In 1759, “a conference at Her Majesty’s court” resolved to build field churches in the newly conquered cities of Königsberg, Pillau, and Memel; after Peter III concluded peace with Frederick the Great, these churches were returned to Russia, although the Prussian government undertook to maintain the Russian churches for traveling merchants (PSZ. 15. No. 11566. Art. 18; cf.: Maltsev (1906). pp. 149 ff.). In 1744, Theoklitos, a bishop of the “Greek faith,” submitted a petition to the Holy Synod requesting the construction of a church in Leipzig with Russian funds; he also asked that young Russian priests and deacons be sent to Leipzig, whom he, Theoklitos, would instruct in “various sciences.” Due to inaccuracies in Theoklitos’s information, the Synod forwarded his petition to the Collegium of Foreign Affairs. It appears the matter came to nothing (PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 680). The church in Leipzig was not built until 1913, in commemoration of the Battle of the Nations in 1813.

[1326] Maltsev (1911). pp. 69, 76, 80, 88, 90–169; Pobedonostsev. Letters. Vol. 2. p. 291; Maltsev (1906). pp. 70, 76, 143, 215, 222 ff., 311–326, 416.

[1327] Maltsev (1906). pp. 253–275; Vasilyev, I. V. Letters to the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod. St. Petersburg, 1915; PBE. Vol. 3, pp. 216–219 (bibliography); Prav. ob. 1861. 9. pp. 141–146; Barsov, N. “Archpriest I. V. Vasilyev,” in: Russ. st. 1882. 1. There were other Russian churches in France as well: in Menton (1892), Po (1866), Biarritz (1892), Cannes (1891), and Nice (1859). In 1866, a church was built in Geneva, followed by churches in Florence (1866) and Buenos Aires (1889) (Maltsev, 1906, p. 50). See: Review… of Alexander III, pp. 369–372.

[1328] On the position of Protestant theologians and church historians, see: Benz, O. *Die Ostkirche im Lichte der protestantischen Geschichtsschreibung von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart*. Munich, 1953.

[1329] Cyprian, in: Orthodox Thought. 11 (1957). Archpriest Bazarov, rector of the church in Stuttgart, wrote to the Holy Synod that it would be beneficial to send graduates of theological academies as psalm readers to churches abroad, especially in Germany, thereby giving them the opportunity to attend German universities. One of the first to do so was M. I. Gorchakov († 1910), who attended lectures in Tübingen, Heidelberg, and Strasbourg (Rhodosky, pp. 114–116; Maltsev (1911), pp. 441 ff.), after which he became a professor of canon law.

[1330] Rhodosky, p. 419; Filaret, Obzor, 2 (1884), pp. 485 ff. Sabinin graduated from the St. Petersburg Academy and was a student of G. Pavsky.

[1331] Maltsev (1911). pp. 437 ff. (with a list of his scholarly works).

[1332] For Bazarov’s “Memoirs,” see: Russkiy Vestnik, 1901, pp. 2–10; Rodossky, pp. 30–32; M. S. Sabinin, “Notes,” in: Russkiy Arkhiv, 1900. 4. Bazarov was the author of many articles published in the 1860s–1880s in Russian theological journals. His works in German: a) *Die russische Kirche*. Stuttgart, 1873; b) Marriage According to the Doctrine and Rite of the Orthodox Russian Church. Karlsruhe, 1857; c) PЈnucij, or The Order of Prayers in Memory of the Deceased According to the Rite of the Orthodox Eastern Church. Stuttgart, 1855. Among his works published in Russian, special mention should be made of “Correspondence with the Western Scholar Baron Gaksthausen on the Question of the Union of the Eastern and Western Churches,” in: Readings at the OLDP, 1877 (translated by A. N. Muravyov).

[1333] Maltsev (1911). pp. 95, 136. Letters of Raevsky, in: Russ. Arkh. 3. 1895; RBS. Pritvits-Reis (1910). pp. 396 ff.; Savva. Chronicle. 6. pp. 82, 224. His works: a) Euchologion of the Orthodox-Catholic Church. Vienna, 1861–1862. 2 vols.; b) Prayer Book for the Use of Orthodox Christians. Vienna, 1861; c) Ritus der orthodox-katholischen Kirche bei der Kronung der Kaiser aller Russen. Vienna, 1856; d) Le grand canon de St. André de Crète. Vienna, 1849; e) Les Vêpres de la Pentecôte. Paris, 1852; in Russian: On the National and Religious Movement of the Russian People in Galicia. St. Petersburg, 1863. Several letters from Raevsky’s extensive correspondence with V. I. Lamansky (1833–1914) have recently been published: Documents on the History of Slavic Studies in Russia (1850–1912), ed. B. D. Grekov. Moscow, 1948.

[1334] Maltsev (1911). pp. 439–441. On Yanyshev as a theologian: Florovsky. pp. 389 ff.; Glubokovsky, N. N. Russian Theological Scholarship in Its Historical Development and Current State. Warsaw, 1928. pp. 16 ff., 19, with a list of his most important works (p. 95). See § 21. On I. L. Yanyshev’s participation in negotiations with Old Catholics and Anglicans, see Volume 2.

[1335] Works by A. P. Maltsev and his translations of the services of the Orthodox Church: a) *Die gottlichen Liturgien*. Moscow, 1890; b) *Die Liturgien der orthodox-katholischen Kirche des Morgenlandes unter Berücksichtigung des bischöflichen Ritus nebst einer vergleichenden Betrachtung der hauptsächlichen übrigen Liturgien des Orients und Occidents*. Moscow, 1894; c) Liturgikon (Liturgical Book). Moscow, 1901, 1902 (2nd ed.); d) Die Nachtwache (All-Night Vigil). Moscow, 1892; e) Andachtsbuch (Canon). Moscow, 1895; f) Die helige Kronung. Moscow, 1896; g) Bitt-, Dank-und Weihe-Gottesdienste (Book of Prayers). B., 1897; h) Die Sakramente der orthodox-katholischen Kirche des Morgenlandes. B., 1898; i) Begrabnisritus und einige specieile und alterthumliche Gottesdienste der orthodox-katholischen Kirche des Morgenlandes. Berlin, 1898; k) The Lenten and Floral Triodion, together with the Sunday hymns of the Octoechos of the Orthodox-Catholic Church of the East. Berlin, 1899; l) The Menologion of the Orthodox-Catholic Church of the East. 2 vols. Berlin, 1901; m) The Oktoichos, or Parakletike, of the Orthodox-Catholic Church of the East. 2 vols. B., 1904. All of these translations are accompanied by Church Slavonic texts, with the exception of those marked with the letters b) and c). In addition, Maltsev authored numerous articles on issues of dogmatics and liturgy in comparison with the teachings of the Roman Catholic, Evangelical Lutheran, and Old Catholic Churches. Some of these were published as introductory chapters to the aforementioned translations (Maltsev, 1906. p. 33 ff.). A. P. Maltsev died in 1915 in St. Petersburg. Unfortunately, not all of his translations are of high quality. This is due, on the one hand, to the haste with which the work was done, and on the other, to the fact that Maltsev sought to adapt his translations to the needs of church singing. But in the absence of musical notation, this problem remained unresolved (Raevsky’s translations in his Euchologion are significantly better). Nevertheless, Maltsev’s great merit lies in the fact that he provided Germans with the opportunity to understand Orthodox worship in terms of its dogmatic and liturgical content.

[1336] Rhodosky. p. 73; Maltsev (1911). p. 11. Works by D. S. Vershinsky: a) On the Gallican Church in Its Present Organization. St. Petersburg, 1850; b) The Monthly Calendar of the Orthodox-Catholic Church. St. Petersburg, 1856. Translations: A Survey of the History of Philosophy by Asta. St. Petersburg, 1831; A Brief Course in Philosophy Based on Ritter. St. Petersburg, 1832; Bachmann’s System of Logic. 1832–1833. 3 vols. (Filaret. Review. 2 (1884). p. 486).

[1337] See note 285; for negotiations with the Old Catholics, see Volume 2.

[1338] He was also the author of articles on the Orthodox Church, which were published by N. V. Orlov in *The Journal of Theological Studies* (Maltsev, 1906).

[1340] DAI. 5. No. 102. pp. 462, 473, 490 (Local Council of 1667); cf. Patriarch Adrian’s Instruction to parish elders: PSZ. 3, No. 1612. As early as the 15th century, complaints about the lack of education among the parish clergy were not uncommon (AI, 1, No. 104); the Stoglav Council of 1551 also noted this (Stoglav, Chapters 25–26). On the education of the parish clergy and on some attempts to establish theological schools, see: Makarii. 10–12; Dobroklonsky. 3, in: Dushep. Cht. 1889. 2. p. 359 ff.; Smirnov (1855). p. 5 ff.; Prilezhaev, G. “School Affairs in Russia Before Peter the Great,” in: Stranik, 1881, 1–3; Kapterev, N. F. “On Schools in Moscow in the 17th Century,” in: Pribavleniya, 1889; Mirkovich, G. “On Schools and Education During the Patriarchal Period,” in: ZhMNP, 1876, 7; Morozov, P. Feofan Prokopovich as a Writer. St. Petersburg, 1880. p. 4 ff.; Miropolsky, S. An Essay on the History of Parish Schools from Their First Appearance in Rus’ to the Present. Vol. 3: Education and Schools in Rus’ in the 15th–17th Centuries. St. Petersburg, 1895; Lavrovsky, N. On Old Russian Schools. Kharkiv, 1854 (outdated); Arkhangelsky, A. (1883); Kharlamovich. The Little Russian Influence. Vol. 1. pp. 381–384; Shmurlo. A Course in Russian History. Prague, 1935. Vol. 3. pp. 310 ff.; Smentsovsky; Skvortsov, G. A. Patriarch Adrian (see bibliography for § 1). pp. 206 ff.

[1341] Smirnov (1855). pp. 5–75; Skvortsov. Op. cit. pp. 206–268; Smentsovsky. pp. 3 ff., 42 ff.; Obratsov. “The Likhuda Brothers,” in: ZhMNP. 1867. 9; Shmurlo. Op. cit. p. 311; cf.: Smolitsch. pp. 347 ff. Further: Filaret. Review (1894). pp. 254 ff. (with errors).

[1342] Ustryalov (see bibliography for § 1). 3. p. 512.

[1343] Dobroklonsky. 3, in: Dushep. Readings 1889. 2. p. 131 ff.; cf. § 15.

[1344] PSZ. 4. Nos. 2186, 2308; 5. Nos. 2778, 2971, 2979, 3171, 3175 (all published in 1708–1718).

[1345] PSZ. 5. No. 2778; cf. No. 2971; Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 200. Epiphany of Tikhor, Bishop of Belgorod (1722–1731), who was also deeply interested in educational matters, opened a numeracy school in his bishop’s residence in Belgorod (Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium, in: Readings. 1885. 4. pp. 5–8, 20). Later, on May 19, 1724, the Senate proposed to the Holy Synod that the arithmetic schools be merged with the episcopal schools; The Synod, however, rejected this proposal on the grounds that episcopal schools had not yet been opened in the dioceses; the merger took place only in the Novgorod Diocese, where schools of this kind already existed (PSPiR. 4. No. 1262). At that same time, in 1724, Pososhkov—whom we already know (see §§ 15, 16)—submitted his treatise to Peter I, which also discussed the need for schools to educate parish clergy and even included a curriculum: in addition to reading and writing, it included singing and the study of liturgical books (The Book on Poverty and Wealth. Moscow, 1911. p. 7 ff.).

[1346] Prilezhaev, in: Christian Readings 1877, vol. 1, pp. 331 ff.; Smirnov (1855). pp. 72 ff.; Lebedev. Op. cit. p. 20; Pekarsky. Science and Literature under Peter the Great. Vol. 1 (1862). pp. 113, 133 ff.; Mozharovsky (1868). pp. 19–29.

[1347] Spiritual Regulations. Part 2. Articles 9, 10; School Buildings. Article 22. As early as May 31, 1722, a decree of the Holy Synod ordered the establishment of episcopal schools in accordance with the principles of the “Spiritual Regulations” (PSZ. 6. No. 4021).

[1348] For information on the school at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, see: Runkevich (1913), pp. 241–251. The school founded by Theophan, known as the “Karpovskaya Seminary” (since it was located on the banks of the Karpovka River, which at that time was still in the outskirts of St. Petersburg), was supported by him out of his own funds (Chistovich. Theophan Prokopovich. pp. 631 ff.). For the “Rules” of this school, see ibid., pp. 723–727, and in TKDA, 1866, vol. 5, pp. 77–84; also: Morozov, pp. 272 ff.; Pekarsky, vol. 1, p. 501. Theophan founded this school even before the aforementioned decree of the Holy Synod of 1722; it existed until 1738, and was then merged with the St. Petersburg (Alexander Nevsky) Seminary (Chistovich, 1857, pp. 47 ff.; Runkiewicz, Op. cit., p. 516). Kharlamovich (1, pp. 692–694), drawing on archival data, provides some interesting details: Theophan donated his house to the school but allocated only 157 rubles for its upkeep; he spent far greater sums on his orchard and fish ponds. Teaching was structured according to the canons of the Halle Pietists (Wotschke, Th. *Der Pietismus in Moskau*, in: *Deutsche wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift für Polen*, 1930, p. 86, cited in: Stupperich, *Staatsgedanke* (see bibliography for § 1), p. 93).

[1349] PSZ. 7. No. 4291; PSPiR. 1. Nos. 132, 285, 624; 2. No. 850; 4. Nos. 1262, 1284, 1316, 1409, 1434, 1164, 1136; 3. No. 1108, 1098; Prilezhaev, in: Christian Readings 1879. p. 176 ff.; Mozharovsky. pp. 19–25. On July 21, 1721, a special protector was appointed for the schools (PSZ. 6. No. 3741; PSPiR. 1, No. 153). Between 1721 and 1725, 14 schools were opened, and between 1727 and 1730, another 5 (Kharlampovich, p. 635). For the history of these schools and their Ukrainian teachers, see ibid., pp. 668–736.

[1350] Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 200; Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. pp. 7–20.

[1351] PSPiR. 6. No. 2004; Pekarsky. 1. pp. 108–121; Mozharovsky. pp. 26–31; cf.: Rozhdestvensky, S. V. Essays. p. 5 ff.; Runkiewicz. pp. 498–516.

[1352] PSZ. 7. No. 5518; 10. Nos. 7361, 7660, 7749, 8287, 8291, 7364; 8. Nos. 5882, 6060, 6287; PSPiR. 6. No. 242; Titlinov. The Government of Anna Ioannovna. p. 370. A decree dated September 21, 1738 (PSZ, vol. 10, No. 7660) recommended that the Holy Synod establish a seminary at the Trinity-Sergius Monastery, which was not implemented until 1742. (PSPiR. E. P. 1. No. 220). See: Znamensky. Theological Schools. pp. 100, 160, 168, 214.

[1353] PSZ. 10. No. 7364; Shpachinsky. p. 9. The interest shown in and the energy of the diocesan bishops were decisive for the development of the school system. Some of them took great care of the schools; for example, Epiphany of Tikhor in Belgorod and Kharkiv (Kharlampovich. p. 716 ff.) or Hilarion Rogalevsky in Kazan (Znamensky. Op. cit., p. 160). However, the latter’s successor, Gabriel Russky, was not a learned monk and, as an opponent of Peter I’s church reforms, “disbanded” the Kazan Seminary, in the historian’s words (Mozharovsky, pp. 51 ff.; cf.: *Readings*, 1880, vol. 1, p. 59).

[1354] Znamensky. Theological Schools. pp. 175–188; Chistovich (1857). pp. 21 ff., 24, 35 ff., 45; PSZ. 12. No. 8904. Since the parish clergy refused to send their sons to seminaries, the Holy Synod was forced in 1744 to impose a fine of 2 rubles for this (PSPiR. E. P. 2. No. 530; Rozanov (see bibliography for §§ 13–16). 2. 1. p. 177). Among the bishops of Ukrainian origin, who generally viewed theological schools favorably, Arseny Matseevich—an opponent of establishing seminaries—was an exception; in Rostov, he even closed a Latin school (Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 181, 465 ff.; Russian Archives, 1905, no. 10, pp. 166, 169).

[1355] Shpachinsky. pp. 401 ff. On such parish schools in Ukraine, see also: Maksimovich, G. A. Rumyantsev-Zadunaisky’s Activities in the Administration of Little Russia. Nezhin, 1913. Vol. 1. pp. 120 ff. (on the era of Catherine II).

[1356] PSZ. 16. No. 11716. Art. 7–9; PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. No. 76.

[1357] Rozhdestvensky. Materials. pp. 268–323; idem. Essays. pp. 306–314; Shpachinsky. pp. 444 ff.; Proceedings… of the Kyiv Theological Academy. 2. 3 (1906). pp. 185 ff.; Collection. 43. p. 230; Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov. pp. 767–769.

[1358] PSPiR. Vol. II, No. 1, Nos. 245, 253; Zabelin, I. “The Project for a Theological Faculty under Catherine II,” in: VE. 1873, No. 11; Titlinov, op. cit., pp. 136–159, 767 ff., 770–778; Znamensky. pp. 470 ff.; Gorozhansky, Ya. Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev, Bishop of Nizhny Novgorod (1757–1791), in: TKDA. 1893. 11. pp. 306–316, 324; 1894. 1. pp. 120, 124 ff.; Shpachinsky. pp. 434, 445, 448.

[1359] PSZ. 24. Nos. 18273, 18726, 18369; Makarii (1843). pp. 182–191; Znamensky. Parish Clergy. 1873. p. 117. In 1784, Archbishop Anastasy Bratanovsky, commissioned by Paul I, drafted a “Plan for the Reform of Theological Schools,” which, however, remained unimplemented (Sukhomlinov, M. History of the Russian Academy. 1 (1874). pp. 245–257). It is possible that this plan influenced the “Regulations of 1798” (see below, item z).

[1360] PSZ. 28. No. 21610. Cf.: Rozhdestvensky. A Historical Overview of the Activities of the Ministry of Public Education, 1802–1902. St. Petersburg, 1902. pp. 2–30. On the 18th century, see Table 7; cf.: Milyukov. Essays on Russian Culture. 2. 2 (1931). pp. 737–743.

[1361] Makariy. p. 191; Znamensky. Theological Schools. p. 160; Kharlamovich. p. 633 ff.

[1362] Makarii. pp. 182–198; Petrov, N. The Significance of the Kiev Academy; Smirnov, S. (1855). pp. 255–263; Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. pp. 12, 60–79; Rozhdestvensky, F. “Samuil Mislavsky,” in: TKDA. 1877. 5. pp. 301–325; Shpachinsky. pp. 414, 406, 443 ff.

[1363] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 615. The term “kazennokoshtnye,” borrowed from Ukrainian, does not mean that these were state scholarship recipients; the students were supported by diocesan administrations or other church institutions (“support” – in Ukrainian, “kosht,” from the German “kosten” – “to cost”).

[1364] The question of funding for the academies is discussed in detail with regard to Kyiv in the works of Makariy, Shpachinsky, and F. Rozhdestvensky; with regard to Moscow, see Smirnov (1855).

[1365] Smirnov (1855). pp. 86–95, 275–279.

[1366] Makarii (p. 86) suggests that the Kyiv-Mohyla College received the official title of “academy” as early as 1701, since Peter I’s decree of September 26, 1701 (PSZ. 4. No. 1870) uses precisely this term; however, K. Kharlamovich (p. 411), disagreeing with Makarii, believes that the name “academy” came into use gradually, beginning mainly in the second half of the 18th century. See: Makarii. Pp. 86, 103 ff.; Shpachinsky, pp. 458–463, 449–452; Collection, vol. 42, p. 528; Golubev, T., “The Kyiv Academy,” in: TKDA. 1906, No. 12, pp. 537–540; Petrov, N. “The Kyiv Academy during the Hetmanate of K. G. Razumovsky,” in: TKDA. 1905, No. 5, pp. 51–93.

[1367] Znamensky. Ecclesiastical Schools. p. 615.

[1368] PSZ. 11. Nos. 8291, 8303; Knyazev. An Essay on History, in: Readings. 1866. 1. pp. 27 ff., 40, 93–95. Conditions were better at the Alexander Nevsky Seminary in St. Petersburg (Runkiewicz, pp. 511, 755), which benefited from the monastery’s revenues; in contrast, conditions were poor at the Moscow Academy, from which students often simply ran away (Smirnov (1855), p. 99; Znamensky, pp. 653 ff.).

[1369] Makarii. pp. 104 ff.; Shpachinsky. pp. 455 ff.

[1370] Cited in: Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 655.

[1371] Runkiewicz, pp. 510–518, 739–761; Smirnov (1855), pp. 95–98.

[1373] Makariy. pp. 107–116; Shpachinsky. pp. 456–458.

[1374] Dobroklonsky. Vol. 4, p. 201; Knyazev. p. 27 ff.; Titlinov, Gavriil Petrov. p. 24; Runkevich. pp. 751–756.

[1375] ODDS. 16. Appendix. No. 8; 17. Appendix. No. 38. pp. 846–854; Smirnov (1855). pp. 180 ff.; Makariy. p. 108 ff.; Shpachinsky. p. 467; Vishnevsky, in: TKDA. 1903. 8. p. 618; Runkevich. p. 757 ff.

[1376] Milyukov. Op. cit. 2. 1 (1931). pp. 737 ff.

[1377] Makariy. p. 108; Rozhdestvensky, F., in: TKDA. 1877. 5. p. 302; Znamensky, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. p. 341; Rozhdestvensky. Essays. p. 47 (here, data on the number of students for 1736–1745, including both groups; those who were not the sons of clergymen accounted for nearly 23 of the total).

[1378] Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. p. 65; PSZ. 17. Nos. 12397, 12420; PSPiR. Vol. II. 1. No. 444.

[1379] Smirnov (1855). pp. 178 ff., 338; Znamensky. Parish Clergy, in: Prav. sob. 1871. 3. pp. 340 ff.

[1380] Prilezhaev. “Theological Schools,” in: Christian Readings, 1879, Vol. 2, pp. 161 ff. Among the students at the Alexander Nevsky Seminary there was even one son of a serf (Runkiewicz, p. 759).

[1381] PSPiR. Vol. II, No. 1, No. 219 (containing data on subsidies for the Moscow Academy and 23 seminaries), p. 256; cf.: Zavyalov, Op. cit., pp. 223 ff.; Smirnov (1855). p. 98; Dobroklonsky. Vol. 4, p. 204.

[1382] PSZ. 22. No. 16375; Makarii. p. 118 ff.; Rozhdestvensky, F., in: TKDA. 1877. 5. p. 321.

[1383] PSZ. 24. No. 18273; Smirnov (1855). pp. 264, 268; Makarii. pp. 121 ff.; cf.: Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 206 ff. According to Smirnov, the Moscow Academy frequently received donations from private individuals.

[1384] Zavyalov. Op. cit. pp. 208 ff.; cf.: Znamensky. Theological Schools. pp. 616 ff.

[1385] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 621 ff., 624 ff.

[1386] For Plato’s “Constitution,” see Smirnov (1855), pp. 218–222; Kedrov, “Platonist Students,” in *At the Trinity in the Academy*, pp. 202–232; Smirnov (1867), pp. 490 ff., 514 ff.

[1387] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 631 ff., 637 ff.; Smirnov (1855). p. 264; Mozharovsky. “The Old Kazan Academy,” in: Readings. 1877. 2. pp. 101 ff. As early as 1819, there were 991 parish scholarship recipients here: PSZ. 22. No. 15981; 25. No. 18921 (decrees of the Holy Synod of 1787 and 1799 concerning such scholarship recipients).

[1388] Znamensky. Op. cit. pp. 631 ff., 637 ff.; Smirnov (1855). p. 264; Mozharovsky. The Old Kazan Academy, in: Readings. 1877. 2. pp. 101 ff. As early as 1819, there were 991 parish scholarship recipients here: PSZ. 22. No. 15981; 25. No. 18921 (decrees of the Holy Synod of 1787 and 1799 concerning such scholarship recipients).

[1389] PSZ. 22. No. 16500; 25. No. 18726, Art. 15; No. 18880; 26. Nos. 19434, 19723, 19897; 27. No. 21278, 21321; 28. No. 21472; Smirnov (1855). p. 379 ff.; Chistovich. p. 60 ff.; Collection. 43. p. 91 ff.

[1390] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 613; Martynov. Notes. pp. 68–183.

[1391] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 614.

[1392] Smirnov (1855). pp. 64, 227 ff., 381, 390 ff.; Martynov. p. 77; Prilezhaev. “The Theological School,” in: Christian Readings, 1879, vol. 2. On graduates of the Moscow Academy who became professors at secular educational institutions, see also: “At the Trinity in the Academy.” p. 599; Makarii. pp. 192 ff.; Chistovich. pp. 54–68, 151. Krasheninnikov (1713–1755), the son of a soldier and an explorer of Siberia, particularly Kamchatka, graduated from the Moscow Academy in 1732 (RBS. Knappe-Küchelbecker (1903). pp. 420–422). S. E. Desnitsky († 1789), a professor of Roman law at Moscow University, was also a graduate of the Moscow Academy; in addition, he studied in England, where he was sent in 1761. The historian N. N. Bantysh-Kamensky first studied at the Kiev Academy and completed his education at the Moscow Academy (RBS. Dabelov-Dyadkovsky (1905). pp. 331–335).

[1393] Florovsky. p. 341. On the activities of learned monks—graduates of the Kiev Academy—in various theological educational institutions of Great Russia, see: Kharlamovich. pp. 633–668.

[1394] Collection. 43. p. 99; Smirnov (1855). p. 84 ff. Metropolitan Platon Levshin also urged the academy’s best students to take monastic vows (BV. 1912. 8. p. 217; cf.: Smirnov. Op. cit. pp. 352, 356 ff., 361).

[1395] PSZ. 17. No. 12576; 22. No. 16684. Cf. Peter the Great’s “Proclamation on Monasticism”: PSPiR. 4. No. 1197. Art. 2; see § 23 below.

[1396] Znamensky. Spiritual Schools. p. 344; Golubev, A. “The Investigative Office, 1730–1763,” in: OAMYU. 4 (1884). p. 99.

[1397] ODDS. 16. Appendix (containing lists for 1736).

[1399] Cited in: Smirnov (1855). p. 258.

[1400] Vinogradov, V. “Platon and Filaret, Metropolitans of Moscow,” in: BV. 1913. 2. p. 319. Note; cf.: Smirnov (1855). p. 261.

[1401] Smirnov (1855). p. 259; on Plato’s significance for the cause of spiritual education in his diocese—pp. 255–395; his rules for the academy and seminary—pp. 418–422; instructions for the Vifan Seminary—p. 293 ff.; special instructions for lecturing on Holy Scripture—pp. 294 ff.; on Church history—pp. 296 ff.; on canon law—p. 298; special instructions for seminary class monitors: Supplements. 1862. 2. pp. 425–431. Kedrov, S. “Platonist Students,” in: At the Trinity Academy. pp. 208 ff.; Belyaev, A. “Metropolitan Platon and His Attitude Toward the Vifan Seminary,” in: Spiritual Readings 1897; ibid. Metropolitan Plato as the Founder of the National Theological School, in: BV. 1912. 12; Platonic. On the Study of the Life and Works of Metropolitan Plato and the Commemoration of Metropolitan Plato, in: BV. 1912. 5; Snegirev, I. M. The Life of Plato, Metropolitan of Moscow. Moscow, 1856, 1891; Florovsky. p. 109 ff. (an interesting characterization of Platon); RBS. Plavilshchikov-Prinos (1905).

[1402] For more on him, see: Gorozhansky, Ya., in: TKDA. 1893; Smirnov (1855). p. 182. He also studied in Göttingen (1766–1772) (RBS. Dabelov-Dyadkovsky (1905). pp. 52–53).

[1404] ODDS. 16. p. 620; Knyazev, in: Readings. 1866. 1. pp. 25 ff., 46, 53, 57; Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. pp. 8 ff.; Chistovich. pp. 60, 82; Kolosov. pp. 148 ff., 174 ff.; Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 740; Florovsky. pp. 99 ff.

[1405] Italics added by the author. For Samuel’s instructions, see: Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. pp. 60–79; Shpachinsky. p. 439.

[1406] Martynov, p. 79; cf. also: Shpachinsky, p. 443.

[1407] Samuil Mislavsky was Ukrainian, a graduate of the Kyiv Theological Academy, but nevertheless advocated for instruction in Russian. At the seminary of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, a different view prevailed: when in 1786 the Holy Synod, at the initiative of Catherine II, ordered that instruction in Russian be expanded in theological schools in accordance with the curriculum of public schools (PSZ. 22. No. 16421), the administration of the Trinity Seminary wrote to Metropolitan Platon of Moscow: “If the rules of public schools are adopted regarding the teaching of Russian reading and writing, it is foreseeable that this will hinder progress in Latin, for those who must first learn Russian reading and writing will begin studying Latin much later… Why, then, should Your Eminence not be instructed to state that, for the reasons described above, it is inappropriate to adopt this method of instruction from public schools—regarding the teaching of Russian literacy and writing—at this seminary?” (Znamensky, Op. cit., p. 791). On the excellent knowledge of Latin among students at seminaries and academies in the second half of the 18th century, see: Malein, A. “Latin as the Language of the Church,” in: BV. 1907. 6; cf.: Frolovsky, pp. 112–114 (on the teaching of Latin).

[1408] Smirnov (1855). p. 181 ff.; Florovsky. pp. 112–114.

[1410] Smirnov (1855). pp. 72–82, 181 ff. On Palladius Rogovsky (d. January 23, 1703), who served as rector of the Moscow Academy from 1700 to 1703, see: Smirnov (1855). p. 75; Nikolsky, M. “Russians Educated Abroad in the 17th Century,” in: Prav. ob. 1862, no. 11, and 1863, nos. 2–3; Shmurlo, E. “Russian Catholics of the Late 17th Century,” in: Zap. Rus. nauchn. inst. v Belgrade, vol. 3 (1931); A. Sobolevsky’s introduction to *The Works of Grigory Skibinsky*, in: *Readings*, 1914, no. 3; Florovsky, A., “Palladius Rogovsky: An Episode from the History of Catholicism in Moscow at the End of the 17th Century,” in: *ZOG*, vol. 8 (New Series, no. 4). Rogovsky first studied at the school of the Likhudov brothers at the Epiphany Monastery in Moscow; he then went to the Jesuit college in Vilnius, and from there to the Jesuit college in Olomouc, which was well-known at the time, where he converted to the Union. For further studies, he was sent to Rome, where he remained for nearly seven years, became a Uniate priest, and was the first Russian to receive a doctorate in philosophy. However, in 1699 he returned to Moscow, repented before the patriarch, and was readmitted to the Orthodox Church. By 1700, he was already a professor at the Moscow Theological Academy, and from September 29, 1701, he served as its rector (Kharlamovich, p. 649 (note), 651).

[1411] Znamensky. Op. cit. p. 740; cf. Malein, in: BV. 1907. 6.

[1413] PSZ. 22. No. 16047; Lebedev. The Kharkiv Collegium. Pp. 16 ff. On Catherine II’s “Greek Project,” which aimed to conquer Constantinople, see: Smolitsch. “On the History of Relations between the Russian Church and the Orthodox East,” in: OS. 7 (1958). pp. 7 ff., as well as: Ubersberger, H. Ru?lands Orientpolitik in den letzten zwei Jahrhunderten. Vienna, 1913. Vol. 1. pp. 362 ff.

[1414] Smirnov (1855). p. 112 ff.; Florovsky. p. 105 ff.

[1415] Smirnov (1885). p. 308; PSZ. 25. No. 18726.

[1416] Smirnov (1885). pp. 109–114, 136, 140, 152 ff., 196, 198; Arkhangelsky. pp. 64 ff. For literature on Theophylact, see § 8, note 258; Kharlamovich. pp. 650, 652; Titlinov. Gavriil Petrov. pp. 5–12.

[1417] On the system of Krokowski (who lectured in 1693–1697), see: Makarii. pp. 69–74; Arkhangelsky. pp. 62 ff. Krokowski studied at the College of St. Athanasius in Rome (Makarii. p. 86; Florovsky. p. 104). On the system of Theophan Prokopovich: Koch, H. *Die russische Orthodoxie im petrinischen Zeitalter*. Breslau, 1929; Kartashov, A. “On the Question of Theophan Prokopovich’s Orthodoxy,” in: *Collected Articles in Honor of D. F. Kobeko*. St. Petersburg, 1913; Titlinov, B. “Theophanes Prokopovich,” in: RBS; Florovsky, p. 91 ff.; Morozov, pp. 123–152; Arkhangelsky, pp. 67–72; Chervyakovsky, An Introduction to the Theology of Theophan Prokopovich, in: Christian Readings 1876, nos. 1–2; Stupperich, R., in: ZSP 18 (1940), pp. 70–102.

[1418] Makarii. pp. 69–74, 86, 137–143, 145–148; Shpachinsky. p. 430; Smirnov (1855). pp. 294, 292 ff. As early as the late 1850s, Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky praised Georgy Konissky’s system (Obzor. 2 (1884). p. 368; cf. pp. 289, 357). Cf.: Arkhangelsky. p. 72. Note 7.

[1420] Blagoveshchensky. p. 65; Mozharovsky, in: Readings. 1877. 2. p. 17; Martynov. p. 79; Lebedev. Op. cit. p. 85; Kharlamovich. pp. 44, 82; Florovsky. p. 104 ff.

[1421] Smirnov (1855). p. 293; Florovsky. p. 111 ff. However, in 1798, when the Holy Synod was discussing the issue of reforming instruction in theological educational institutions, Platon Levshin spoke out against teaching theology in the Russian language (Titlinov, B., “Metropolitan Platon,” in: Christian Readings, 1912. 11, p. 1242).

[1422] Smirnov (1855). p. 291. On Iriney Falkovsky, see: G. Bulashev, “His Eminence Iriney Falkovsky, Bishop of Chigirin,” in: TKDA. 1883. 6–9 (including Iriney’s note on the state of the academy in 1802: 8. p. 550 ff.); Florovsky. p. 104 ff.

[1423] Makarii. p. 144; Shpachinskii. pp. 429, 434. The scholastic method of teaching philosophy persisted even longer in Kazan (Mozharovsky. Op. cit., pp. 24–26; Blagoveshchensky, p. 67), as well as at the Alexander Nevsky Seminary (Martynov, p. 76; Chistovich, p. 39).

[1424] Smirnov (1855). pp. 157, 209 ff. On Vladimir Kalligraph, see: Popov, Arseny Matseevich (1912). pp. 164–167; Barsov, N., “Little Russian Preachers of the 18th Century,” in: Christian Readings, 1874, vol. 1. pp. 269 ff., 575 ff.; Gorsky, A., *Historical Description of the Holy Trinity St. Sergius Lavra*, vol. 2 (Moscow, 1890), p. 122; Kharlamovich, p. 707; cf.: Zenkovsky, vol. 1, pp. 113 ff.

[1425] Smirnov (1855). pp. 158–170; Titlinov. Theophylact Lopatinsky, in: RBS; ibid. Gavriil Petrov. pp. 9 ff.

[1427] Ibid. pp. 300, 353 ff. On Damaskin, see: Gorozhansky, Ya. “Damaskin Semenov-Rudnev,” in: TKDA. 1893–1894.

[1428] Smirnov (1855). pp. 300 ff.

[1429] Makarii. pp. 127 ff., 147–156. In the second half of the 18th century, Samuel Mislavsky’s instructions remained in effect for the teaching of all subjects (ibid., pp. 124–143).

[1430] Smirnov (1855). pp. 301–330; PSZ. 31. Nos. 16047, 16061.

[1432] PSZ. 24. No. 18273 (1797); 25. No. 18726 (1798); Titlinov (see bibliography for § 20). 1. pp. 7 ff. In 1802, the Holy Synod ordered the introduction of the fundamentals of medicine as a separate subject in theological schools and seminaries (PSZ. 27. No. 20334). In 1794, under the influence of the French Revolution, the teaching of French was suspended and resumed only in 1797 (Znamensky. Ecclesiastical Schools. (1873). p. 774).

[1433] Rozhdestvensky. Historical Review (1902); Dovnar-Zapolsky (see bibliography, general literature b); Zenkovsky. 1. p. 113] and following.[; Florovsky; Milyukov. Essays. 2. 2 (1931); Bagaley. A History of Kharkiv University. Kharkiv, 1894. 1; Zagoskin, N. History of Kazan University. Kazan, 1902–1903. 3 vols. Along with the reform of the existing universities in Moscow and Vilnius, new institutions of higher education were established: universities in Dorpat (1802), Kharkiv (1804), and Kazan (1804), the St. Petersburg Pedagogical Institute (1804; became a university in 1819), and the Alexandrovsky Lyceum in Tsarskoye Selo. The universities became the centers of six educational districts into which all of Russia was divided—a circumstance that was important for the 1808 reform of theological schools. Gymnasiums and district schools were established in the provinces.

[1434] On Evgeny Bolkhovitinov, see: Shmurlo, E. “Metropolitan Evgeny as a Scholar,” in ZhMNP, 1888 (also published as a separate offprint: St. Petersburg, 1888); Abramovich, D. A. “In Memory of Metropolitan Evgeny,” in Istorichesky Arkhiv, 1 (1919).

[1435] Ambrose Podobedov (1742–1818) graduated only from the Trinity Seminary. As Archbishop of Kazan (1785–1799), he was actively involved in the affairs of the Kazan Seminary, which in 1797—not without his participation—was transformed into an academy. From December 19, 1800, he served as Metropolitan of St. Petersburg (Chistovich, I. “His Eminence Ambrose,” in: Stranik. 1860. 5–6; idem. “Leading Figures”; Chteniya. 1894. 3. pp. 125–129; Russian Archives, 1904, no. 1, pp. 193–236).

[1436] On Evgeny’s role in the reforms of 1808–1814, see: Poletaev, in: Stranik. 1889; Florovsky. pp. 141 ff.

[1437] Titlinov. Vol. 1, pp. 27 ff.; Poletaev; Chistovich (1857). pp. 163 ff.; Znamensky. Fundamental Principles; Florovsky.

[1438] PSZ. 30. Nos. 23122–23124; Titlinov. 1. pp. 5, 34–53; Blagovidov, F. “The Activities of the Russian Clergy Regarding Public Education,” in: Prav. Sob. 1891. 4; Pokrovsky. “On Methods of Support,” in: Stranik. 1860. 4. pp. 254 ff.; Inventory… of the Case (1910). Cf.: Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 207 ff.; Florovsky. pp. 143 ff.

[1439] As already mentioned, M. M. Speransky himself was a student at the Alexander Nevsky Seminary in St. Petersburg; see about him: Korff. The Life of Count M. M. Speransky. St. Petersburg, 1861. 2 vols.; cf.: Florovsky. p. 143 ff.; Zenkowski. 1. p. 121 ff.

[1440] PSZ. 32. No. 25658a, 27673–27676; Makarii (see bibliography for § 19). pp. 204 ff.; Smirnov (1879). Chapters 1–2; Titlinov. Vol. 1, pp. 105–121. “Literature” here refers to the history of Russian literature.

[1441] Author’s italics. PSZ. 32. No. 25673.

[1442] Author’s italics. Letters from Clergy and Laypeople to Metropolitan Filaret of Moscow. St. Petersburg, 1900. p. 124. Filaret Amfiteatrov held extremely conservative views, which makes his statement all the more significant; he was also an opponent of the mysticism of the Alexander era. On his activities as inspector and rector of the Moscow Academy, see: Smirnov, D., in: At the Trinity Academy. pp. 233–251.

[1443] Titov, F. “Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov of Moscow: On the 25th Anniversary of His Death,” in: BV. 1907. 6. p. 393.

[1444] PSZ. 30. No. 23254; cf.: 30. Nos. 23122, 23123.

[1445] PSZ. 31. No. 24159; 2 PSZ. 1. No. 98; 3. No. 2034; 12. No. 10843 (on payments from the school fund—for example, to support widows and orphans of the clergy, etc.); see also: 2 PSZ. 2. No. 1081; 1. No. 264.

[1446] Collection. 98. p. 459; Titlinov. 1. pp. 91–104; cf.: Preobrazhensky (bibliography for Introduction B). p. 147 ff.; Makarii. Op. cit. p. 206 ff.; Dobroklonsky. 4. pp. 209–211.

[1447] Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 212 ff.

[1448] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 424, 51 ff., 106, 116, 132.

[1449] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1883. Vol. 8. p. 178; Runkevich. History of the Russian Church in the 19th Century (1900). pp. 547 ff.

[1450] Collection. 113. 1. pp. 17 ff., 234; Rozhdestvensky. Historical Review. pp. 226 ff. (here, Nicholas I’s 1855 speech on the importance of proper religious education as the foundation of national statehood).

[1451] 2 PSZ. 4. No. 3323. In 1827, an anonymous individual submitted a memorandum to the Holy Synod regarding the need to reform theological educational institutions. Metropolitan Filaret wrote a critical response: Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 2. pp. 273–279; cf.: 4, pp. 217–221.

[1452] Later, already as a bishop, Nikodim Kazantsev was among the hierarchs who disapproved of the government’s policy toward the Church. See his autobiography: The Life of Archimandrite Nikodim, in: BV. 1910; his memorandum: On the Holy Synod, in: BV. 1905. 10. In his work “On Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow: My Memories” (Readings, 1877, no. 2), Nicodemus reproduces his conversation with Protasov almost verbatim.

[1453] Italics by the author. *Readings*, 1877, no. 2, pp. 34–43.

[1454] 2 PSZ. 14. Nos. 12070, 12071.

[1455] Collection. 113. 1. p. 158; cf. Chistovich’s characterization of Protasov. Leading Figures. pp. 315–357. Also: Florovsky. p. 203. See also Archbishop Innokenty Borisov’s very sharp criticism of the 1839 reform: Readings. 1869. 1. p. 77.

[1456] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1883. 7. p. 156.

[1457] Although Rostislavov viewed some of Protasov’s views and directives favorably, his position as a whole must nevertheless be recognized as relatively liberal: in his numerous books and articles, he resolutely opposed the dominance of bishops and, especially, of the scholarly monastic order. We often encounter such views among lay professors at theological institutions, who accomplished more than the scholarly monastic community but constantly felt marginalized by the latter. On Rostislavov, see: Rodossky. pp. 413–415.

[1458] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1883. 7. pp. 132–138, 156, 163–171; 8. p. 585; Collection. 113. 1. p. 159; Eliseev, in: VE. 1891. 1. pp. 291 ff.; Kastalsky. pp. 80 ff.; At the Trinity Church in the Academy. pp. 115 ff., 619–623; Smirnov (1879). pp. 70–73; Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. p. 423.

[1459] From Podolsk’s Past, in: Russian Articles 1911. Vol. 147; The Life of Archimandrite Nicodemus, in: BV. 1910. 1; Rostislavov. Notes, in: Russian Articles 1893; V. K. Around the Seminary, in: Russian Articles 1911. 148; Leonty Lebedinsky, in: BV. 1913. 9; On the Saratov Seminary, in: Russ. Arch. 1914. 1; Savva. Chronicle. 1; Kharlampovich. Kazan Theological Seminary (1818–1842), in: PBE. 8. Cols. 692–702; idem. The New Kazan Theological Academy. 1842–1870, in: PBE. 8. Cols. 753–769. See also the histories of other provincial seminaries.

[1460] Excerpts… for the year 1840. p. 58] and following [, 110] and following [; Excerpts… for the year 1843. p. 59] and following [; Excerpts… for the year 1851. p. 54.]

[1461] Excerpts… for 1850. p. 54 ff.; Excerpts… for 1836. p. 55; 2 PSZ. 17. No. 16376; 10. No. 8055 (1835: staffing tables for theological schools in Georgia); 25. No. 23974; 26. No. 25494. In 1862, the annual salary of a professor at the Moscow Academy was 850 rubles, that of a seminary teacher—429 rubles, and that of a teacher at a theological school—214 rubles. (Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. p. 316). See also: BV. 1909. 1. p. 117; Excerpts… for 1866. pp. 55–59; PBE. 8. Col. 750. Donations from private individuals continued to be made toward the maintenance of theological schools; for example, in 1866, donations totaling 34,200 rubles were received, while 355,303 rubles came from various dioceses. (Excerpts… for 1866. p. 78). For a general overview of the school budget from 1808 to 1865, see: Preobrazhensky. pp. 147–161.

[1462] V. K. “Around the Boarding School,” in: Russian Articles 1911. 148. p. 440. For details on the curricula, see: Titlinov. 1. pp. 122–126.

[1463] From Podolsk’s Past, in: Russian Articles 1911. 147. pp. 147, 392; Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. p. 153; The Life of Archimandrite Nicodemus, in: BV. 1910. 1. pp. 291 ff., 404–427.

[1464] Letters from Metropolitan Filaret to S. D. Nechayev, in: Russ. Arch. 1893. 1. p. 121; cf. Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. p. 203. Metropolitan Filaret’s opinions on teaching at the Moscow Seminary and the Academy from 1820, 1822, 1836, and 1838: Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2. pp. 41–58, 82 ff., 139–144, 411–420.

[1465] Scholars such as A. V. Gorsky, F. A. Golubinsky, E. E. Golubinsky, Sergiy Spassky (all from the Kostroma Seminary), Dimitry Muretov, Innokenty Borisov, and Makarii Bulgakov should be mentioned here. The renowned Byzantinist V. G. Vasilievsky (1838–1899) also graduated from the seminary (Modestov, V. V. G. Vasilievsky, in: ZhMNP. 1902. 1. p. 138).

[1466] Titlinov. 2. pp. 4–25, 47–139; Smirnov (1879). p. 96; Nadezhdin. p. 396; Chistovich (1857). pp. 335, 342, 352, 418, 446. As early as 1831, Archimandrite Platon Gorodetsky, on his own initiative, taught dogmatics in Russian. Filaret Drozdov had already advocated for teaching in Russian as early as 1828 (Collection of Opinions. Vol. 2. pp. 158 ff., 217–220, 236 ff.).

[1467] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. p. 203; Eliseev, in: VE. 1891. 1. p. 305.

[1468] Nikanor. Vol. 1, pp. 144–147, 125] et seq.[, 157] et seq.[, 227, 271] et seq.[, 253–269; Smirnov (1879), pp. 150–247; Filaret, Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. p. 127. Almost all the bishops served, at one time or another, as instructors at three, four, or even more seminaries. For example, over the course of 11–12 years (1827–1840), Nikodim Lebedev served as rector at five seminaries (At the Trinity Academy. p. 20; cf. pp. 89, 90, and others regarding other learned monks). Innokenty Borisov, rector of the Kiev Academy, twice filed complaints with Chief Prosecutor Nechayev, pointing out that the frequent transfers of faculty members had an extremely detrimental effect on the quality of education (Letters, in: The Old and the New (1905). Vol. 9, p. 215] and following [, p. 236).

[1469] Nikanor. 1. pp. 258, 269; Titlinov. 2. pp. 25–35, 80–93.

[1470] At the Holy Trinity Academy. Pp. 607 ff., 617 ff.; Smirnov (1879). Pp. 20 ff.; Strumensky, M. Archimandrite Polikarp Gaitannikov, in: BV. 1914. 10; The Life of Archimandrite Nikodim, in: BV. 1910. 11. pp. 546–552; 12. pp. 624, 640–645. On the state of education in 1814–1867, see: Smirnov (1879). pp. 12–68, 121–149.

[1471] At the Trinity Academy. Introduction. pp. VII–VIII.

[1472] Gorsky’s “Diary,” published in: Supplements, 1884–1885, is of great importance for his biography; at the insistence of N. P. Pobedonostsev, the publisher of the “Diary,” S. K. Smirnov, was forced to omit certain passages, which were later published separately: BV. 1915. 11–12. Many of Gorsky’s letters have been published in: At the Trinity Chapel of the Academy. 1914; see also the bibliography on Gorsky in the same volume; his biography: pp. 252–341. I. E. Evseev (A. V. Gorsky, in: Antiquities: Proceedings of the Slavic Commission of the Imperial Moscow Archaeological Society (1902). 3. pp. 58–65) emphasizes Gorsky’s influence on his student E. E. Golubinsky, whose book *History of the Russian Church* reflected many of Gorsky’s ideas. See also: Popov, S., “Rector of the Moscow Theological Academy, Archpriest A. V. Gorsky.” Sergiev Posad, 1897, and comments on Gorsky by a number of authors in: BV. 1900. 11. Gorsky is also frequently mentioned in Savva’s *Chronicle*. 2–7.

[1473] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. p. 575.

[1475] Author’s italics. Filaret. Op. cit. 5. 1. p. 3 ff. It is interesting that the ordination of the unmarried Gorsky stirred up even the conservative segment of Moscow society (Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1904. p. 569). A diary entry by Gorsky dated February 7, 1863, is telling: he noted that appointing rectors from the lay clergy might prove beneficial for spiritual education, since—given the scholarly poverty of the monastic clergy—it would serve as a kind of warning to them (At the Trinity Academy, p. 617. Note). This entry was omitted from the first edition of the diary (see note 133).

[1476] At the Trinity Academy. p. 290.

[1478] Gilyarov-Platonov, N. P. Collected Works. St. Petersburg, 1899. Vol. 2. p. 464 ff. Cf.: Lebedev, A. P. “Some Recollections of the Late Gorsky as a Professor of Church History,” in: Readings at the OLDP. 1879. Vol. 1. pp. 122–150; Belyaev, A. D., “A. V. Gorsky.” Moscow, 1877; Evseev, in: Antiquities. Vol. 3.

[1479] Smirnov (1879). pp. 45 ff.; Letter from V. Kudryavtsev-Platonov to S. K. Smirnov: “At the Trinity in the Academy.” pp. 624 ff.

[1480] Smirnov (1879). pp. 47–52. On F. A. Golubinsky as a philosopher, see: Shpet, G. G. An Essay on the Development of Russian Philosophy. Petrograd, 1922. Vol. 1. pp. 185 ff.; Zenkovsky. Vol. 1. pp. 306–312 (bibliography) (this also discusses the influence of French religious philosophers and German philosophy on Golubinsky).

[1481] At the Trinity Academy. pp. 1–9; cf.: Smirnov (1879). p. 175.

[1482] At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 84, 68 ff., 621.

[1483] Zenkowski. 1. p. 312; cf.: BV. 1914. 11–12. pp. 332, 334 ff.; 1910. 12. pp. 648 ff. Works by Golubinsky: a) Lectures on Speculative Theology, recorded during the 1841–1842 academic year by 14th-year student V. Nazarevsky. Moscow, 1868; 2nd ed.: Speculative Theology. Moscow, 1886; b) The Wisdom and Grace of God in the Fate of the World and Mankind (On Final Causes). Moscow, 1885 (the 2nd and 3rd editions, with additions from Golubinsky’s archive, were published that same year); c) Lectures on Philosophy. Moscow, 1884. 4 issues. For Golubinsky’s knowledge of German philosophy, see the remarks of A. F. L. Haxthausen (1792–1866): Haxthausen, A. F. L., *Studies on the Internal Conditions, the Life of the People, and in Particular the Rural Development of Russia*. Hanover, 1847. Vol. 1. p. 83.

[1484] At the Trinity Academy. pp. 4, 72 ff., 118, 135, 467; see the recently published work by C. Kern: Kern, C., *Les traductions russes des textes patristiques*. Chevetogne, 1957. p. 57; the data provided by Filaret (Obzor (1884), p. 497) are incomplete.

[1485] Smirnov (1879). pp. 138, 360, 388; At the Trinity Academy. pp. 87, 120 ff. Amfiteatrov’s desire to include works by contemporary writers often complicated his relationship with Metropolitan Filaret (Russian Arch. 1893. 9. p. 53); Obzor (1882). p. 465; Gilyarov-Platonov. Collected Works. Vol. 2. p. 340; Rodossky. pp. 1 ff.

[1486] At the Trinity Academy. pp. 221 ff., 123 ff.; Smirnov (1879). pp. 138, 289, 360, 409, 556; PBE. Vol. 4. cols. 374–381. It is interesting to note that K. P. Pobedonostsev, whose ecclesiastical and political views were very far removed from those of Gilyarov-Platonov (it suffices to point to their differing interpretations of the schism), was an admirer of his and published his works: Collected Works. St. Petersburg, 1899–1900. 2 vols.; vol. 1 (From My Experiences) contains extensive material on the history of theological education in 1840–1867.

[1487] At the Trinity Academy. p. 571; cf. pp. 123 ff., 437, 229.

[1488] Savva. Chronicle. 1. p. 307; 2. p. 724. Savva was a student of Bukharev.

[1489] PBE. Vol. 2, col. 1203 ff.; Smirnov (1879). pp. 463–465.

[1490] Florovsky. pp. 344–349; Zenkovsky. Vol. 1, pp. 321–325; see also: Karpov, A. F., “A. M. Bukharev,” in Put, nos. 22–23.

[1491] Filaret. Collected Opinions. Vol. 5, No. 1. pp. 34–36, 40. On the Kazan period in Bukharev’s life (1854–1858), see: Znamensky. History of the Kazan Theological Academy. Vol. 1, pp. 124–136; Vol. 3, pp. 200–208; cf.: PBÉ. Vol. 8, col. 734.

[1492] Znamensky, P. “The Theological Controversy of 1860 on the Relationship of Orthodoxy to Modern Life,” in: Prav. Sob. 1902, nos. 4–6, 9–11; Florovsky, p. 344; RBS. Betancourt-Byaxter (1908), pp. 359–561; Smirnov (1879). pp. 138, 260, 395, 628. Bukharev’s Works: On Orthodoxy in Relation to Modernity. St. Petersburg, 1860; Three Letters to Gogol. St. Petersburg, 1861 (written in 1848); My Apology. Moscow, 1866 (2nd ed.: St. Petersburg, 1906); A Study of the Apocalypse. Sergiev Posad, 1916 (written in the 1860s); Contemporary Needs of Thought and Life, Especially Russian. Moscow, 1865.

[1493] There is a vast body of literature on Innokenty Borisov, who was known throughout Russia as an outstanding preacher, including numerous memoirs and other material scattered across various journals: RBS. (Ibak-Klyucharev (1897). pp. 110–115; Materials for the Biography of Innokenty, Archbishop of Kherson, ed. N. I. Barsov. St. Petersburg, 1884, 1887. 2 vols.; Butkevich, T. I. Innokenty Borisov, Archbishop of Kherson. St. Petersburg, 1887. The Works of Innokenty Borisov: St. Petersburg, 1900–1901. 12 vols.

[1494] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. pp. 173–175. For Filaret Drozdov’s opinion on Innokenty Borisov, see his letters of 1833 to Chief Prosecutor Nechayev (Russian Archives. 1893. 1. p. 144) and to A. N. Muravyov (Starina i Novizna. 1905. 9. p. 212). On Innokenty as a diocesan bishop, see: Sbornik. 113. 1. pp. 111–114. On his work as a professor and rector in Kyiv: Yastrebov, M. “His Eminence Innokenty (Borisov) as a Professor of Theology at the Kyiv Theological Academy,” in: TKDA. 1900. 12; Titov, F. “His Eminence Innokenty Borisov, Rector of the Kyiv Theological Academy,” in: TKDA. 1900. 5. G. Florovsky criticizes Innokenty Borisov for being primarily a preacher rather than a scholar, but also notes his merits: he raised the academic standards of the academy and encouraged students to study diligently (Florovsky, pp. 196–199); the same source also discusses the influence of mysticism and the Catholic theology of M. Dobmayer on Innokenty (cf. p. 544). For information on Innokenty Borisov as a preacher and theologian, see Volume 2; here we will mention only the following work: Stefan, Bishop. Orthodox Christian Moral Teaching Based on the Writings of Innokenty, Archbishop of Kherson. Mogilev-on-the-Dnieper, 1907. 2 vols. On Innokenty’s influence on Makarii Bulgakov, see: Palimestov, I., “The Teacher and the Textbook: Memoirs,” in: Russkaya Arkhivnaya Gazeta, 1906, vol. 1,

[1495] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. pp. 173–175. For Filaret Drozdov’s opinion on Innokenty Borisov, see his letters of 1833 to Chief Prosecutor Nechaev (Russian Archives 1893. 1. p. 144) and to A. N. Muravyov (Starina i Novizna. 1905. 9. p. 212). On Innokenty as a diocesan bishop, see: Sbornik. 113. 1. pp. 111–114. On his work as a professor and rector in Kyiv: Yastrebov, M. “His Eminence Innokenty (Borisov) as a Professor of Theology at the Kyiv Theological Academy,” in: TKDA. 1900. 12; Titov, F. “His Eminence Innokenty Borisov, Rector of the Kyiv Theological Academy,” in: TKDA. 1900. 5. G. Florovsky criticizes Innokenty Borisov for being primarily a preacher rather than a scholar, but also notes his merits: he raised the academic standards of the academy and encouraged students to study diligently (Florovsky, pp. 196–199); the same source also discusses the influence of mysticism and the Catholic theology of M. Dobmayer on Innokenty (cf. p. 544). For more on Innokenty Borisov as a preacher and theologian, see Volume 2; here we will mention only the following work: Stefan, Bishop. Orthodox Christian Moral Teaching Based on the Writings of Innokenty, Archbishop of Kherson. Mogilev-on-the-Dnieper, 1907. 2 vols. On Innokenty’s influence on Makarii Bulgakov, see: Palimestov, I., “The Teacher and the Textbook: Memoirs,” in: Russkaya Arkh. 1906. 1.

[1497] See the aforementioned work by Skaballanovich, as well as: Florovsky, p. 220.

[1498] Quoted from: Florovsky, p. 240. Skvortsov was at the same time a professor of philosophy, theology, and canon law at Kyiv University. For Skvortsov’s extensive correspondence with Dimitri Muretov, see: TKDA. 1882–1883, 1885–1887. Skvortsov was a prolific writer but not a thinker. See: Zenkovsky. Vol. 1, p. 313 ff.; Filaret. Obzor. 1884. p. 496; Ikonnikov, V. Biographical Dictionary of Professors of Kyiv University. p. 601 ff. (more comprehensive than Filaret’s); RBS. Sabanayev-Smyslov (1904). pp. 546–551.

[1499] The Kyiv Academy was the alma mater for many Russian professors of philosophy: V. N. Karpov, who taught a course at the St. Petersburg Academy; P. S. Avsenev (later Archimandrite Theophan Avsenev); S. S. Gogotsky—at Kyiv University, P. D. Yurkevich—at Moscow University, O. M. Novitsky—at the Odessa Lyceum; Vl. Solovyov was a student of Yurkevich (Zenkovsky. Vol. 1, pp. 314–321; cf. p. 305; Florovsky. p. 241 ff.).

[1500] Nikanor. 1. p. 269. On teaching, see: Chistovich. pp. 180–331; Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. pp. 154–158. Over the course of 40 years (1809–1851), there were 10 rectors; Filaret Drozdov held the position the longest (1812–1819). See also the list of rectors in Cyprian Kern, in: Istina. 1956. p. 284.

[1501] Nikanor. Vol. 1, p. 125; cf. p. 265.

[1502] Correspondence of Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov of Moscow, in: TKDA. 1907. 11. p. 480; Titov, F. “Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov of Moscow,” in: BV. 1907. 6. pp. 397, 398 ff.

[1503] On the bishops’ dissatisfaction with Makarii’s speech in defense of judicial reform, see: Savva. Chronicle. 6. p. 656; cf. § 6. Biography of Makarii: Titov, F. Makarii (Bulgakov), Metropolitan of Moscow and Kolomna. Moscow, 1895–1897. 2 vols. Makarii as a theologian and church historian will be discussed in Volume 2, where the bibliography will also be provided. See also: Titov, in: BV. 1907. 6 ff. and in: TKDA. 1907. 6.

[1504] At the Trinity Academy. p. 643; Titov, in: BV. 1907. 6. pp. 391 ff.; Nikanor. 1. p. 258. E. E. Golubinsky cites another example of Makarii’s nobility in the preface to Part 2 of Volume 1 of his *History of the Russian Church*: despite Golubinsky’s sharp criticism of the first volumes of *History of the Russian Church*, Makarii[], Makarii defended the first volume of Golubinsky’s work before the Holy Synod, which had been outraged by the author’s scholarly criticism, and secured for Golubinsky the award of an academic degree as well as permission to publish his work (cf. the obituary of E. E. Golubinsky, written by S. I. Smirnov, in: ZhMNP. 1912. 5; Lebedev, A. P., “Memoirs,” in: BV. 1907. 1).

[1505] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 4. pp. 27–32. On Ioann Sokolov: PBE. 7. cols. 141–156.

[1506] Porphyry Uspensky. The Book of My Life. 7. p. 77.

[1507] Leontius. “My Notes,” in: BV. 1913. 9. p. 169; cf. pp. 142–170. On the St. Petersburg Academy in the 1840s: Nikanor. 1. p. 187 ff. Makarii Bulgakov was also forced to leave the academy due to obstacles posed by Metropolitan Grigorii Postnikov (Titov, in: TKDA. 1895. 10. p. 269); on Grigory’s other intrigues, see: Savva. 4. pp. 171 ff.

[1508] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1883. 8. p. 591 ff. Sidonsky was dismissed from the academy following the publication of his work *Introduction to the Science of Philosophy* (St. Petersburg, 1833), whereas the St. Petersburg Academy of Sciences awarded him the Demidov Prize for it in 1836! In 1856, he was elected a member of the Academy; St. Petersburg University awarded him an honorary Doctor of Philosophy degree and conferred upon him the title of professor of philosophy. Sidonsky was influenced by German philosophical idealism (Zenkovsky. 1. p. 312; Vladislavlev, M. “Archpriest F. F. Sidonsky,” in: ZhMNP. 1879. 171. pp. 50–55).

[1509] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. p. 183 ff.; 1883. 8. p. 601 ff.; Barsov, T. V. N. Karpov as a Professor, in: Christian Readings 1898. 5; Zenkovsky. 1. pp. 314–316.

[1510] Nikanor Brovkovich: a) Biographical Materials. Odessa, 1900. Vol. 1 (much interesting material on the history of education, the scholarly monastic order, and the episcopate in the 19th century); b) Notes, in: Russian Archives 1906. Nos. 2–3; c) Letters—ibid. 1909. 2. Nikanor’s major works: Positive Philosophy and Supersensual Being. St. Petersburg, 1875–1888. 3 vols.; Sermons, Conversations, and Speeches. Odessa, 1900–1901 (2nd ed.). 5 vols. On Nikanor: Belyaev, N. “In Memory of His Eminence Nikanor,” in: Pravda Sbornik, 1891, vol. 1, pp. 81–139; Rodossky, pp. 296–298. On Nikanor’s philosophical views: Solovyov, V., in: Pravda Obraztsov, 1877, vol. 5, pp. 109–119 (a review of the first two volumes of *Positive Philosophy*); Zenkovsky, vol. 2, pp. 88–100. On Nikanor as a preacher, see vol. 2; the same source also discusses his writings on Catholicism.

[1511] Nikanor. Notes, in: Russian Archives 1906, no. 3; idem. Letters—ibid. 1909, no. 2. Cf. Florovsky’s characterization of Nikanor as a person and scholar. p. 224.

[1512] Rostislavov, in: VE. 1872. 9. p. 164. Cf.: Florovsky, p. 194 ff.; Barsov, N. I., “Protopriest G. P. Pavsky—A Biography Based on Unpublished Materials,” in *Russian Studies*, 1880, 1–6; Chistovich (1857), pp. 354 ff., 396.

[1513] Regarding the “Pavsky Affair,” see: Collection. 113. 1. pp. 133–138 (on textbooks for the heir); Pavsky’s response to Filaret’s remarks: Readings. 1870. 2. Miscellany. pp. 175–208; Filaret’s remarks: Collection of Opinions. 2. pp. 342–358; Pavsky’s letters to V. A. Zhukovsky, tutor to the heir apparent: Russian Archives. 1887. 7. pp. 310–326 (including a letter from Zhukovsky to Emperor Nicholas I); see also: Chistovich, p. 372. On the issue of the translation, see vol. 2.

[1514] Bazarov, I. I., Memoirs, in: Russian Articles, 1901, no. 5, p. 278; Rostislavov, in: Encyclopedia of Russia, 1872, vol. 9, p. 162; 1883, vol. 8, p. 590; Rodossky, p. 131 ff. For a general overview of the St. Petersburg Academy in the 1830s–1850s: Chistovich (1857). pp. 180–331; Nikanor. Vol. 1. pp. 121–192; Rostislavov, in: V.E. 1872. Vol. 9; 1883. Vol. 8.

[1515] Collection. 113. 1. p. 73] ff.[; 2 PSZ. 17. No. 15803. On teaching in 1842–1870: Znamensky. History of the Kazan Theological Academy. 3 vols. (1891–1892); Kharlamovich, in: PBE. 8. Cols. 722–750, 702–711.

[1516] Cited in: Rozhdestvensky, D. V. His Eminence John, Bishop of Smolensk, in: In Commemoration of the Centennial (1814–1914) of the Moscow Theological Academy (Sergiev Posad, 1915). Vol. 1. p. 237.

[1517] Znamensky. Op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 139–146, 157, 161 ff.; cf.: Kharlamovich, in: PBE, vol. 8, col. 708 ff. On Bukharev—ibid., col. 734 ff.; cf.: PBE. 7. Col. 146 ff., 143 ff.

[1518] On Nikanor Brovkovich: PBE. 8. Col. 710 ff.; RBS. Naake, Nikolai (1914). pp. 279–288; cf. § 21 below. Innokenty is the author of a four-volume critical study of Western confessions (Expository Theology. Kazan, 1859–1864). 4 vols.; PBE. 8. Col. 709 ff., 735; 5. Col. 962.

[1519] On the teaching system and the student body, see: Titlinov. Vol. 1, pp. 122 ff., 261–292; Vol. 2, pp. 4–35, 47–64, 80–139, 173–192; Smirnov (1879), pp. 150–247, 484–489; Chistovich (1857). pp. 185–330; Znamensky. Op. cit. 1–2; PBE. 8. cols. 722–750, 753–768; Nikanor. 1; Cyprian Kern, in: Istina. 1956. pp. 254–265. In 1824–1828, four students were sent from the Moscow Academy to Germany, where they studied law under Savigny; later, they became professors in Russia (Smirnov. (1879). p. 484 ff.).

[1520] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. p. 109.

[1521] Smirnov (1879). pp. 83 ff., 205 ff., 249; At the Trinity Academy. p. 621. Note: Filaret’s lecture notes on Church history (from 1810) are of interest for characterizing his views on the educational process (Collection of Opinions. Vol. 1, pp. 26–31), which served as a model for the Church History course at the St. Petersburg Academy in subsequent years; works by Protestants are recommended in them as supplementary material. Cf.: Lebedev, A. P. Church Historiography. Moscow, 1898. pp. 490, 495. In one of his notes (1814), Filaret proposed expanding the curriculum in theological sciences (Collection of Opinions. Vol. 1. pp. 141–144; ibid. Vol. 2, pp. 82 ff., 157, 161, 411–420; Vol. 5, No. 1, p. 25).

[1522] Znamensky. Vol. 1, pp. 139 ff., 169, 165; Smirnov (1879), pp. 150 ff.; Rostislavov, in: VE. 1873. 9; 1883. 8; At the Trinity in the Academy. p. 208; Nikanor. 1. p. 133.

[1523] See: Chistovich (1857); ibid. – The St. Petersburg Academy Over the Last 30 Years (1858–1888). St. Petersburg, 1889. pp. 9, 74; At the Trinity Chapel in the Academy. pp. 23, 616, etc.; BV. 1914. 11–12. pp. 326–334.

[1524] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. pp. 159, 77 ff., 303 ff.; Filaret’s opinion regarding the Bezda memorial service in Bezda—ibid. pp. 54–59, 60 ff., 83, 95–106; Znamensky. 1. pp. 193–210.

[1525] Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov was also forced to acknowledge this fact (Collection of Opinions, Vol. 4, pp. 574 ff.).

[1526] Author’s italics. Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 4. pp. 366, 368. Memoirs, diaries, and collections of letters by contemporaries are important for characterizing public opinion in the early 1860s, especially among the clergy. Liberal aspirations were reflected in numerous articles in theological journals, in which purely academic issues were pushed into the background (see § 9). According to the new university charter of April 18, 1863, the following new departments were established at universities: 1) theology, 2) church history in the faculties of history and philology, and 3) canon law in the law faculties. Theology was a required subject for all faculties. Metropolitan Filaret believed that all these disciplines should be taught by clergy professors, but in practice this was observed only with regard to theology; the other two disciplines, with rare exceptions (such as M. Gorchakova and A. Ivantsov-Platonov), were taught by lay professors (Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 2. pp. 778–784, 801–806, and also: Florovsky. p. 355 ff.).

[1527] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 1. pp. 18–20.

[1528] On the history of this committee chaired by Archbishop Dimitry Muretov: Titlinov. 2. pp. 230–281; Smirnov, N. K. His Eminence Dimitry Muretov, Archbishop of Kherson and Odessa (Moscow, 1898). p. 210. In Russian educational circles at that time, the view that it is not the system but the people who play a decisive role in a school as an educational institution was widely held. This view was held, for example, by the renowned Russian educator N. I. Pirogov (1810–1881), whose views otherwise differed sharply from those of Metropolitan Filaret (Stoyunin, V. N., Pirogov’s Pedagogical Tasks. St. Petersburg, 1892). On Pirogov as a representative of the philosophy of the 1860s, see: Zenkovsky. 1. pp. 382–390.

[1529] Excerpts… for 1866, p. 55; At the Trinity in the Academy, p. 471; Savva. Chronicle, vol. 2, pp. 441, 465, 497; vol. 3, pp. 63, 129, 207, etc.; Nadezhdin (1885). pp. 532–561; Gorsky, A. V. Diary, in: BV. 1914. 10–12. pp. 397, 399, 400 ff., 418 ff. School reform proposals (in addition to the committee’s proposal, there were also proposals from the rector of the Kyiv Academy and the inspector of the Moscow Academy) were, at the request of the Chief Prosecutor, also submitted for review to the elderly Metropolitan Filaret in Moscow (Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 2. pp. 849–862, 926–930). See also: Savva. Chronicle. 2. pp. 62 ff., 129 ff., 302 ff.; Titlinov. 2. pp. 230 ff., 282–300.

[1530] Excerpts… for the Year 1867. pp. 55, 59 ff.

[1531] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 44570; Excerpts… for 1867. pp. 119–123; Filaret. Collection of Opinions. 5. 2. pp. 916–922. Nektarios was a typical representative of the scholarly monastic community; for I. V. Vasilyev, see § 18, as well as: Titlinov. 1. pp. 300–374.

[1532] The members of the Educational Committee were: I. V. Vasilyev (chairman), Archimandrite Chrysanthus Retivtsev, Archpriest S. Mikhailovsky, Archpriest A. Rudakov, and three professors: N. M. Blagoveshchensky (Moscow University), I. A. Chistovich (St. Petersburg Academy), and N. Kedrov (St. Petersburg Seminary) (Excerpts… for 1867, pp. 122 ff.).

[1533] Rostislavov’s book was not only critical but also, in many of its assertions, biased and unfair; cf.: Kazansky. Correspondence, in: BV. 1912. 6. p. 284. For an account of how actively the issue of the need for school reform was debated at that time, see ibid. 4, p. 747; 5, p. 128; At the Trinity Academy, p. 534.

[1534] Excerpts… for 1867, pp. 99–106; cf. Kern, C., p. 266 ff.

[1535] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 44572; cf. 50. No. 54552 (1875) (decree with clarifications regarding all preceding decrees on school reform from 1867–1869).

[1536] This information was submitted to Metropolitan Filaret for evaluation (Collection of Opinions, vol. 4, pp. 421 ff., 389 ff.).

[1538] Excerpts… for the year 1868. p. 159.

[1539] Excerpts… from 1869–1874.

[1540] 2 PSZ. 41. Nos. 43059, 43060; 45. No. 49045; Dobroklonsky. 4. p. 214 ff.

[1541] 2 PSZ. 42. No. 46271; Excerpts… for 1866, p. 86; Excerpts… for 1868, p. 191 ff.; 2 PSZ. 49. No. 53621. Regarding the debate on women’s education, see: S. S., “On Schools for Girls of the Clergy,” in: Readings. 1866. 1. Miscellany. pp. 171–176.

[1542] See “Register of Clerical Schools,” in: Excerpts… for 1867–1871. Appendix; see also Table 7. Since 1867, the sons of clergymen were permitted to enroll in gymnasiums and other secular educational institutions (see § 14); as of January 1, 1869, there were already 1,453 students from clerical families enrolled in these institutions (Military-Statistical Compendium. 4. p. 856).

[1543] Titov, F. “Metropolitan Makarii Bulgakov of Moscow,” in: BV. 1913. 6. p. 394.

[1544] 2 PSZ. 44. No. 47154. Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov was no longer alive († November 19, 1867); had he still been alive, he would certainly have subjected the Charter to sharp criticism.

[1545] Kharlamovich, in: PBÉ. 8. Col. 769 ff.; Katansky, A. L., in: Christian Readings 1916. 1. pp. 57–61. See also Florovsky’s description of the reform of theological academies. pp. 360–364; Kern, C. P., pp. 266–275.

[1546] On the history of the personal extraordinary prelature for D. F. Golubinsky, see: At the Trinity Academy. pp. 646–652.

[1547] 2 PSZ. 44. No. 47154 and appendix (staff lists for 1869); Excerpts… for 1869. pp. 134–137; Titlinov. 2. pp. 374–420. The Charter of the Theological Academies was also published as a separate edition: St. Petersburg, 1869. In 1871, the Holy Synod published additional new regulations for state-funded students. At the Kiev Academy, the history of the Russian schism had already been separated from the history of the Russian Church into a distinct subject as early as 1866 (TKDA. 1882. 12. pp. 36 ff.).

[1548] Filaret. Collection of Opinions. Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 613 ff.; Milovidov, A. N. “The Activities of Count M. N. Muravyov in Public Education in the Northwestern Region (1863–1865),” in: ZhMNP. 1905. 7. Section 3. p. 59 ff.

[1549] Antony’s criticism so outraged Chief Prosecutor D. A. Tolstoy that he even wanted to force the archbishop into retirement (Savva. Chronicle. 4. p. 241).

[1550] Savva. Chronicle. 6. p. 307; cf.: Nikanor. 1. p. 300.

[1551] Florovsky, p. 363; Kharlamovich, in: PBE, vol. 8, col. 777 ff.

[1552] Only at the Kiev Academy did the rectorship remain in the hands of the monks.

[1553] Runkiewicz. History of the Russian Church in the 19th Century. p. 697 (see bibliography for § 9).

[1554] Later, thanks to Pobedonostsev’s favor, Sergius received the Moscow Metropolis (1893–1898). Sergius is frequently mentioned in Books 7–8 of Savva’s *Chronicle*. Cf.: *Review…* of Alexander III, p. 474 ff.

[1555] The committee consisted of: V. D. Kudryavtsev (Moscow Academy), I. F. Nikolsky and I. E. Troitsky (St. Petersburg Academy), V. F. Pevnitsky (Kyiv Academy), and I. S. Berdnikov (Kazan Academy). See: Glubokovsky. On Issues of the Theological School. pp. 61–64; BV. 1907. 2. p. 157.

[1556] Author’s italics. Savva. Chronicle. 7. pp. 153–154 (entry dated January 22, 1884).

[1557] 3 PSZ. 4. No. 2160; Report… for 1884. p. 7; Review… of Alexander III. p. 475 ff.; cf.: TKDA. 1885. 2 (academy minutes: p. 412 ff.).

[1560] 3 PSZ. 4. No. 2160. The Charter’s requirement to prepare students primarily for service as parish priests was in line with the sentiments of the conservative episcopate: Savva. Chronicle. 8. p. 705.

[1561] 3 PSZ. 4. No. 2160; Review… of Alexander III. pp. 475–520. An additional chair of the history of the Slavic Churches was established at the St. Petersburg Academy; in one of his private letters to Alexander III, Pobedonostsev emphasized the importance of this discipline (Letters. 2. p. 64 ff.). Pobedonostsev strongly objected to the institution of associate professorships, which had been provided for in the 1869 Charter but had now been abolished (Review, p. 520). On the 1884 Charter, see: Florovsky, p. 415 ff.; Kern, C. P., p. 276 ff.

[1562] In the seminaries of dioceses “infected” by schism (there were seven in total), the course “History and Critique of the Russian Schism” was introduced in 1881: Excerpts… for 1881. p. 152; Excerpts… for 1882, p. 141; later, such departments were established in other seminaries as well (Runkiewicz, op. cit., pp. 698 ff.).

[1563] Runkiewicz, Op. cit., p. 698 ff.

[1564] Bolotov, V. V., “Letters,” in: Christian Readings 1907, vol. 2, p. 383 ff.; Zaozersky, N., “Forms of Organization of the Orthodox Church,” in: Orthodox Review 1892, vol. 4, p. 757.

[1565] The 1884 Charter was particularly forcefully criticized by N. N. Glubokovsky, a professor at the St. Petersburg Academy (“On the Foundations of Theological and Educational Reform,” in: Otzyvy, vol. 3, pp. 151–157; idem, On Issues of Theological Schools), as well as another professor from the same academy—N. K. Nikolsky (Otzyvy, vol. 3, pp. 161–171). Cf. also: I. A. Ubersky, “In Memory of Prof. V. V. Bolotov,” in: Christian Readings 1903, vol. 7, pp. 10 ff.

[1566] Review… of Alexander III. pp. 505–508. According to Metropolitan Filaret Drozdov, the degree of Doctor of Theology should be awarded only to members of the clergy, i.e., monks or priests (Russian Arch. 1893. 1. p. 126).

[1567] P. N. S. The Theological School: Recollections of a Student and a Teacher from 1863, in: Russian Articles 1911. Vol. 147. p. 469.

[1568] From Podolsk’s Past, in: Russian Articles 1912, Vol. 149, p. 383 ff. Cf. the description of the 1860s in Florovsky, p. 285 ff.

[1570] Excerpts… for the Year 1870. p. 155; Excerpts… for the Year 1871. p. 114 ff. Archpriest S. Bulgakov (Autobiographical Notes. Paris, 1946. p. 27) emphasizes how oppressive the “imposed piety” was to him in everyday seminary life, so much so that he even left the seminary, preferring a high school diploma from a secular gymnasium.

[1571] Florovsky. p. 285 ff.; Zenkovsky. 1. p. 326.

[1572] Evlogii. pp. 27–28; P. N. S. Op. cit. pp. 470 ff.

[1573] A. V. Gavrilov—to Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov, in: Savva. Chronicle. 9. p. 405; cf. pp. 390, 401.

[1574] Savva. Chronicle. 8. pp. 87, 91; Nikanor, in: Russian Archives. 1906. 3. p. 24. Cf., however: Pobedonostsev. Letters. 2. pp. 113–116.

[1575] Evlogii. pp. 15, 74 ff., 105, 97; Savva. 9. pp. 390, 401, 405.

[1576] Layman. “Seminary Petitions and Strikes,” in: Church News, 1906. 3. Addenda. pp. 127–132; S. S. “The Lament of Theological Seminaries in 1906–1907,” in: BV. 1907. 2. It is noteworthy that many bishops—who came from the scholarly monastic order—in their reviews (Reviews…—see bibliography for § 9) to the Pre-Council Assembly of 1905 (see § 9), sharply criticized the situation in the seminaries, blaming everything on the Charter and the educational system as a whole—which they themselves had zealously defended five to ten years earlier. These reports are the best proof that the bishops themselves had no desire whatsoever to make the educational system of 1884–1905 more humane, as is also evident from the quotations from other sources that we have cited in the text.

[1577] Nikanor. Letters, in: Russkaya Arkhivnaya Gazeta. 1909. 6. p. 235.

[1578] Evlogii. p. 199; cf.: Tserkovnaya Pravda. 1913. 23. p. 694.

[1579] Review… of Alexander III. pp. 571–590, as well as, for example: Report… for 1908–1909. p. 466 ff. or Report… for 1911–1912. p. 256 ff. At their core, all these reports are more optimistic than, say, the aforementioned “Reviews” by the bishops in 1905–1906.

[1580] At the Holy Trinity Academy. p. 174; cf. p. 193.

[1581] Author’s italics. P. N. S. “The Theological School,” in: Russian Articles, 1911. Vol. 147. p. 469 ff.

[1582] Solovyov, V. Letters. Vol. 3. p. 105. Cf. Muretov’s memoirs, in: BV. 1914. 1112. p. 665 (on the Moscow Academy around 1873); Sokolov, V. A. “My Student Years,” in: BV. 1916. Vol. 2. p. 252 (on the 1870s); Savva, vol. 7, p. 397 (St. Petersburg Academy, 1885).

[1583] Glubokovsky, N. N., “Over Thirty Years (1884–1914),” in: At the Trinity Academy. pp. 745, 750; cf. Russkaya Gazeta, 1905. 10. pp. 627–632, 639; Glubokovsky’s memoirs strike us as too subjective.

[1584] P. N. S. “The Theological School,” in: Russian Articles 1911. Vol. 147. p. 471.

[1585] At the Holy Trinity Academy. Pp. 636 ff.

[1586] An example is E. E. Golubinsky’s *History of the Russian Church*; F. A. Ternovsky, a professor at the Kiev Academy, also faced similar difficulties with synodal censorship (RBS. Suvorov-Trachev (1912). pp. 496 ff.); cf.: Gorsky, A. V., *Diary* (1885). pp. 43 ff.; *At the Trinity Academy*. p. 625.

[1587] Pobedonostsev’s letter to the rector of the Moscow Academy: *At the Trinity in the Academy*, p. 630; cf. p. 636. In 1888, at Pobedonostsev’s request, the Holy Synod issued censorship regulations concerning scholarly research in the fields of theology and Church history; their text: TKDA. 1890. 7 (Minutes. pp. 176–183). As evident from the correspondence between N. I. Subbotin, a professor at the Moscow Academy, and Pobedonostsev, Subbotin played the unsavory role of an informer (Correspondence between Prof. N. I. Subbotin and K. P. Pobedonostsev. Moscow, 1915; also in: Readings. 1915).

[1588] Glubokovsky, N. N., “Over Thirty Years,” in: At the Trinity in the Academy, p. 750; cf.: Russkaya Gazeta, 1905, No. 10, p. 828.

[1590] On Arseny, see: PBE. Vol. 1, col. 1064 ff.; on Anton Vadkovsky, see §§ 9, 12. Pobedonostsev was very pleased with Anton’s performance as rector; see his letter to N. I. Subbotin: Correspondence of N. I. Subbotin. p. 508. Cf. also: Florovsky. p. 426 ff.

[1591] Correspondence of N. I. Subbotin. p. 549. Note 758. On Anton Khrapovitsky, see his detailed biography written by Nikon Rklitsky (bibliography for § 9): 1. p. 111 ff. (on his rectorship in Moscow); p. 171 (on his rectorship in Kazan). On Antoniy’s activities as rector of the Moscow Academy, see also: Teodorovich, T., *On the Fortieth Anniversary of Pastoral Ministry: Memoirs*, vol. 1 (Warsaw, 1935). p. 142. In Nikon Rklitsky’s book, which at times resembles a eulogy, Anthony’s works are invariably spoken of with great praise (Vol. 1, pp. 174 ff.). Anthony was a staunch opponent of secular professors: Reviews (see bibliography for § 9). 2. p. 124 and in Nikon Rklitsky. 1. pp. 212–220. On Sergius of Stragorod: Patriarch Sergius and His Spiritual Legacy. Moscow, 1947. pp. 22–27, 206–217.

[1592] Evlogii. p. 70. On the friction between the young rector and the metropolitan, see the letter from Professor I. N. Korsunsky to Archbishop Savva Tikhomirov: Savva. Chronicle. 9. p. 406; ibid., Savva’s own remarks on this matter (p. 495). Archpriest A. P. Vladimirsky (1871–1895), who served for many years as rector of the Kazan Academy, was sent into “honorable exile” to the Educational Committee under the Holy Synod. See his characterization by Kharlamovich in: PBE. 8. Col. 774 ff., 867. The same source (columns 809, 830 ff.) also mentions Antoniy Khrapovitsky, who “demeaned the theological sciences” at the Kazan Academy and “undermined the academy’s scholarly prestige.”

[1593] Evlogii. pp. 39 ff., 41–46.

[1594] Nikanor. Vol. 1, pp. 121–192; the same author, in: Russkaya Obraztsovka, 1896, nos. 1–3. The scholarly monasticism has already been discussed (§ 12, 20). In addition to the information from Nikanor’s memoirs, one may also point to the fate of Hieromonk Joasaph Gaponov († 1861) (PBE. 7. Col. 186 ff.). See also the description of the scholarly monastic community provided by Archbishop Filaret Gumilevsky in a letter to A. V. Gorsky: Pribavleniya. 31 (1883). p. 262 (dated March 6, 1842). Filaret’s opinion on this subject fully coincides with that of Nikanor Brovkovich or Professor Karpov (see § 20), although in other respects they held completely different views.

[1595] See below in Vol. 2, in the chapter on theological sciences.

[1596] Eulogius. p. 43; Teodorovich. Op. cit. p. 142. The opinion of Anthony Khrapovitsky, this time official: Reviews. Note 282; 1. p. 188 ff.; ibid. Report on the Imperially Ordered Audit of the Kyiv Theological Academy in March and April 1908. Pochaiv, 1909; cf.: Nikon Rklitsky. Vol. 3, pp. 70–110 (excerpts from the “Report”); Vol. 2, pp. 216–227.

[1597] Glinsky, B. V. “K. P. Pobedonostsev,” in: Ist. v. 1907. 4. p. 265.

[1598] The scholarly achievements of the faculty will be discussed further in Vol. 2. In addition, we refer to the following works: Florovsky, *The Paths of Russian Theology* (1937) and Kern, C. P., pp. 276–282. A large body of material (primarily concerning the Moscow Academy) is contained in the collection *At the Trinity Academy* (Moscow, 1914); see also: Titov, F., “The Transformation of Theological Academies in Russia in the 19th Century,” in: *TKDA*. 1906. 1–2; In Memory of the Departed (bibliography for § 20); Pisarev, N., in: Prav. sob. 1917. Also important are the journals and minutes of the academy councils, published as appendices to Christian Readings, BV, Prav. sob., and TKDA.

[1599] Chistovich (1889). pp. 108–195. On Yanyshev: Bronzov, A. “Archpriest I. L. Yanyshev as Professor of Moral Theology at the St. Petersburg Academy,” in: Christian Readings 1899. 10–11; Florovsky. pp. 389 ff. On A. L. Katansky: Florovsky. pp. 379 ff.; Rodossky. pp. 195 ff. On I. E. Troitsky: Palmov, I. S., in: Christian Readings 1903, no. 5, pp. 677–701; Melioransky, B. M., in: ZhMNP. 1901. 11–12 (characterizations of Troitsky as a professor and as a scholar); Florovsky. pp. 374 ff. On Bolotov, see his obituaries: Solovyov, V., in: VE. 1900. 7. pp. 414–418; Turaev, B. A., in: ZhMNP. 1900. 10. pp. 81–101; Rubtsov, M. V. V. Bolotov. Tver, 1900; Vengerov (bibliography, general bibliography). 5. pp. 122–130; Brilliantov, A. I., in: Christian Readings 1900. 4; Melioransky, B. M., in: Byzantine Chronicle. 1900. pp. 614–620; Florovsky. p. 375 ff. On N. P. Rozhdestvensky: Rhodos. p. 405; Glubokovsky (1928). p. 24; RBS Reitern-Roleberg (1913). pp. 330 ff. On Karinsky: At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 154, 554; Zenkovsky. 2. pp. 126 ff. (including bibliography). On Pokrovsky: Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 63, 67 ff. On N. N. Glubokovsky, who died in 1937 in exile in Sofia, see the list of his scholarly works: Glubokovsky (1928). p. 75 ff.; PBE. 4. col. 411 ff. On Karabinov: Glubokovsky (1928). p. 65.

[1600] Archbishop Nikolai Ziorov. p. 15. Cf.: *At the Trinity in the Academy*, which also includes other recollections and statements about Gorsky; see note 133 above.

[1601] Florovsky. pp. 366–371; Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 32 ff.

[1602] Florovsky. p. 241; cf.: Zenkovsky. 2. pp. 73–88. Evlogii (p. 42), a former student of Kudryavtsev’s, also writes about Kudryavtsev’s extraordinarily great influence on students; see also: Vvedensky, A. I., “The Founder of the System of Transcendental Monism,” in: Questions of Philosophy and Psychology, nos. 14–15; In Memory of the Departed. pp. 95–110; At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 134, 182–184, 223–225; BV. 1892. 1. pp. 215–223 (biography and list of Kudryavtsev’s works).

[1603] On Vvedensky, see: Zenkovsky. 2. pp. 127 ff. On Gorsky-Platonov: At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 188 ff., 226 ff., 654–668.

[1604] Lebedev, A. P. “Autobiography,” in: BV. 1907. 2; Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 34 ff., 63, 78, 82–85 (list of Lebedev’s works).

[1605] Smirnov, S. I., in: ZhMNP. 1912. 5 (obituary and assessment of Golubinsky’s character and work); BV. 1912. 1 (ibid.); Florovsky. pp. 371 ff. On S. I. Smirnov, a highly talented researcher who, unfortunately, died young, see his obituary in: Russian Historical Journal. 1917. 34. pp. 205–216; BV. 1916. 9. pp. 43–58.

[1606] For his works, see: PBE, vol. 8, col. 556 ff. (up to 1908). Kapterev’s research on the history of the schism will be discussed further in Volume 2. It was the cause of his controversy with N. I. Subbotin, a professor at the Moscow Academy, and aroused Pobedonostsev’s displeasure (Correspondence of N. I. Subbotin, pp. 115, 420). In 1887, Kapterev’s work *Patriarch Nikon and His Opponents in the Matter of Reforming Church Rites* (Moscow, 1887) was published; it was sharply criticized by N. I. Subbotin in the pages of the journal *Bratskoe Slovo* (1887–1888); see the second edition of Kapterev’s aforementioned work (Moscow, 1913) on this subject. pp. 183–203. Cf.: Smolitsch, *Russisches Monchtum*, p. 365; Glubokovsky (1928), p. 55.

[1607] Smirnov, in: ZhMNP. 1913. 5; At the Trinity in the Academy. pp. 630, 753; Lebedev, A. P. Memoirs, in: BV. 1907. 1; Journal of the Moscow Theological Academy for 1881. p. 38.

[1608] Obituary of Silvestr: TKDA. 1909. 1; Ist. v. 1909. 1. p. 427; Florovsky. p. 380 ff.; Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 15 ff., 91. On the history of the Kiev Academy in 1860–1877, see also: Korolkov, I. “His Eminence Filaret (Filaretov) as Rector of the Kiev Theological Academy,” in: TKDA. 1882. 12.

[1609] Grossu, N. S., “Professor V. F. Pevnitsky as a Homilist,” in: TKDA. 1911. 9; Florovsky, p. 389; Glubokovsky (1928), p. 21.

[1610] Kudryavtsev, N. I. “Professor M. A. Olesnitsky,” in: TKDA. 1905. 4. pp. 675–704, especially p. 677. His brother, A. A. Olesnitsky (1842–1907), was a professor of Ancient Hebrew at the same academy for many years (TKDA. 1907. 10); Savva (Chronicle. 5. p. 773) writes that A. A. Olesnitsky was an outstanding expert in this language.

[1611] On Dmitrievsky, see: Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 63 ff., 78, 86, as well as: Gabriel P. A. A. Dmitrievskij (1856–1929), in: Het Christelijk Oosten en Hereniging. 7 (1954–55). pp. 29–37, 212–225; 8 (1955). pp. 163–176. On Dimitri Kovalnitsky: Titov, F., in: TKDA. 1914. 6.

[1612] Bogorodsky, Ya. A., “Metropolitan Anthony (Vadkovsky) During the Kazan Period of His Life and Ministry,” in Prav. Sob. 1913. 2. p. 263. Anthony Vadkovsky was a student of Nikanor Brovkovich. On the Kazan Academy after 1870 (Znamensky’s work covers the period up to 1870), see: Ternovsky, S. A., “Historical Note” (1892); Kharlamovich, in: PBE. 8. Col. 710 ff., 769–843.

[1613] Znamensky. 1. p. 263; Ternovsky. Op. cit. pp. 10–16; Kharlamovich. Op. cit. col. 774; cf. § 20, note 179.

[1614] See also: Savva. 9. p. 495; Prav. Sob. 1895. 9. p. 11; PBE. 3. col. 630 ff.

[1615] Bogorodsky. Op. cit.; see § 9.

[1616] On P. Znamensky: PBE. 5. Cols. 720–724; 8. Cols. 729 ff.; see also B.’s Introduction.

[1617] Florovsky. pp. 445–450; Zenkovsky. Vol. 2. pp. 102–118.

[1618] Rhodosky. pp. 161–164; PBE. 5. col. 775 ff.; Glubokovsky (1928). pp. 55 ff.

[1619] PBE. 8. Col. 777. Berdnikov taught canon law from 1865 to 1914 (ibid. 3. Col. 394; 8. Col. 740). Among the professors of the Kazan Academy, F. A. Kurganov is also worthy of mention in this context; he taught modern church history from 1881 to 1917 and was the author of many works in this field. When discussing the development of theological sciences in Volume 2, we will also mention other scholars and their works.

[1620] This issue will be covered in detail in Volume 2. Here we will cite only the most important literature: Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on the Question of Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1906. 3 vols. and a supplementary volume; Compilations of Opinions of Diocesan Bishops on Questions of Church Reform. St. Petersburg, 1906; Belyaev, A. A. On the Reform of Theological Schools. Moscow, 1905–1906. 2 vols.; Belyaevsky, F. On the Reform of Secondary Schools. Vol. 1: A Brief Survey of the History of Secondary Theological Schools. St. Petersburg, 1907 (concerning theological seminaries only); Vvedensky, S. Our Scholarly Monasticism and the Contemporary Ecclesiastical Movement. Moscow, 1906; Glubokovsky, N. N. On the Foundations of Theological and Educational Reform; ibid. On Issues of Theological Education (see bibliography for § 21); Theological Education: A Collection of Articles. Moscow, 1906; in addition, numerous articles in the journals BV, Christian Readings, Orthodox Collection, TKDA, and others.

[1622] 3 PSZ. 30. No. 33274; 31. Nos. 35704, 35802; Report… for 1908–1909, pp. 537–560 (new guidelines on the education of academy students and seminarians), 560–565 (on disturbances in theological educational institutions after 1905); cf. pp. 566–584; Report… for 1911–1912, pp. 272–281.

[1623] BV. 1912. 10 (Appendix: Report of the Moscow Theological Academy for 1911–1912); 3 PSZ. 31. Nos. 35704, 35802; cf.: Science in Russia: Reference Yearbook “Published by the Academy of Sciences.” Petrograd, 1920. Vol. 1. p. 57 (concerning only the St. Petersburg Academy for 1916–1917; compiled in 1917). Among the 29 professors and associate professors at the St. Petersburg Academy in the 1901–1902 academic year, there were only 2 scholar-monks (the rector and an inspector) and 4 White priests. See the lists of faculty members for all academies for 1914: *Tserkovnaya Pravda*. Berlin, 1914 (on the covers of the issues). Also: Dumets. *The Theological School*: ibid. 1913. pp. 684–700, 732–746 (Nos. 23–24). Legally, the Charter of the theological academies was supposed to be discussed and approved by the State Duma. The government circumvented this procedure not because it viewed the legal aspects of the matter differently, but because it feared failure in the Duma. After all, the Charter of the Orthodox theological academies was to be debated and approved by a body that lacked experts on the matter but was instead filled with many people hostile toward the Church. Such was the outcome of Peter I’s church reform, as embodied in the 1905 Constitution.

[1624] BV. 1912. 10 (Report of the Moscow Theological Academy for 1911–1912); Talin, V., in: Russ. M. 1912. 6; Ist. V. 1910. 12. Pp. 1208 ff. Like the 1884 Charter, the 1910 Charter sought to increase the number of professors from among the scholarly monastic community, although this practice was criticized in the reports of some bishops to the Pre-Council Assembly; for example, in the report of Bishop Paissius Vinogradov of Turkestan (Reports. 1. p. 49), who particularly emphasized the dangers associated with appointing young monks as rectors and inspectors.

[1625] Florovsky. p. 483 ff.; Report… for 1911–1912, pp. 272–275. For the academies’ budgets, see: 2 PSZ. 30. Supplementary Volume, p. 219 ff. Cf. the debates in the State Duma during the discussion of the Holy Synod’s budget for 1912 (Verbatim Report of the State Duma of the 3rd Convocation, Session 86 [March 6, 1912], p. 115).

[1627] Minutes of the Council of the Moscow Theological Academy for 1906, p. 208 ff.; Minutes… for 1911, pp. 383 ff., 414; Minutes… for 1912, pp. 418–424, 468–475. Interestingly, the top performers on the exams at the Kazan Academy were a certain Belyaev, a retired captain, and a Bulgarian from the Sofia Seminary (Minutes of the Council of the Kazan Theological Academy for 1913, pp. 529–531, in: Prav. Sob. 1913, no. 10). Cf.: S. S. “A Lament for Theological Seminaries,” in: BV. 1907. 5.

[1628] This phenomenon was already clearly evident at the beginning of the 20th century: S. P., “School and Life,” in: Christian Readings, 1902, No. 1. p. 431. I will take the liberty of referring to my own experience: I was a student at a classical gymnasium. Since my father changed his place of service four times during my nine years of schooling, I had the opportunity to attend gymnasiums in four different cities. During that time, I had five history teachers—four of whom were graduates of theological academies; of the four Russian language teachers, three were also graduates of such academies, as were all four Latin teachers. My last history teacher, a graduate of the Kiev Academy, taught us not from the prescribed—albeit outdated—textbook by Ilovaisky, but from Klyuchevsky’s *Course* and Platonov’s *Lectures*. As a 16- or 17-year-old student, I worked through volumes 2 and 3 of Klyuchevsky’s work. Perhaps this was not the case everywhere, but I do not rule out the possibility that theological educational institutions were criticized at that time more out of opposition to the government and the Church than on the basis of the actual state of affairs.

[1629] See, for example, the review by S. T. Golubev, a professor at the Kiev Academy, in: *Readings*. 1909. 4. Miscellany. p. 6 ff.; as well as: *Journals of the Academies* for 1910–1914; *Eulogius*. p. 199.

[1630] Florovsky, p. 484; Kern, pp. 278–282. This issue will be discussed in greater detail in Volume 2.