custom of those days, such an entrance into the religious life, imposed by sheer necessity, admitted of a very liberal amount of compromise. Brother Iona gave up part of his fortune to the community, but he still retained a very large amount, and led an independent life in a house close to the monastery, where he was attended by numerous servants, and kept a liberal kitchen, and everything else to match. He was exceedingly hospitable, and the monks, who took advantage of this, returned the compliment by showing him every kind of civility, sending him presents and dainties of various kinds. The monastery itself was not addicted to privation. The establishment was an enormous one. Round the chief building stood eleven others, which sheltered the kitchens, the bakeries, the storehouses, and in one part of the edifice, still intact, there are 700 rooms, supposed to have been occupied by servants. Chérémétiév was not the only monk of noble birth in the establishment. The community could likewise boast the presence of Vassili Stepanovitch Sobakine, known in religion as Varlaam; Ivan Ivanovitch Khabarov, son of the famous Khabar Simskii; and other viélmoji, sent there in disgrace by Ivan. There were frequent disputes between these guests, some of whom, less rich, and consequently less well treated than Chérémétiév, looked on the favours of which he was the recipient with a jealous eye. In this way a complaint reached Ivan, who could not fail to be displeased at hearing that men whom he had disgraced were still enjoying so many privileges in their exile. And the Sovereign at once set about calling the monks to order. Chérémétiév must take his meals at the common table. When the monks excused themselves by saying that their brother's health had rendered the concession necessary, the Tsar thought it well to press the matter further, and wrote the epistle, which, from the literary point of view, is probably his masterpiece.
He begins by a confession which would seem to justify the worst of the accusations brought against his private and his public life. With his usual bluntness, he calls himself a 'stinking dog,' living in 'drunkenness, adultery, murder, brigandage,' and other mortal sins. Are we to take him literally? One might fancy there was no reason why he should slander himself. But still less do we see any reason why he should declare, immediately afterwards, that the few truths he proposes to tell his brothers 'come out of his foolishness.' The real meaning of this preamble is very soon apparent. The Prior of Alexandrov is talking the language habitually used by the monks of his period. He accuses himself and humbles himself, he bows his head and strikes at himself by a sort of irony, which is to make the blows he is
