These hosts were of various types and lights, and the higher the steps, the lighter. Bishop Ignatius rose higher and higher. But now he is surrounded by a host of radiant hierarchs, he himself has lost his earthly appearance and has become just as radiant. My eyesight did not reach this level higher. From this height, Vladyka Ignatius still cast a look at me, full of compassion. Suddenly, not remembering myself, I broke free from the power of the horrors that held me and cried out: "Give rest, O Lord, to the soul of Thy departed servant, the Most Reverend Ignatius, and by his holy prayers save and have mercy on me, a sinner!" I woke up in a violent shock.

I was never afraid of anything, and I was always willing to be alone in the house, but after this sleep I felt so terrified for several days that I could not bear the solitude. For many days I felt an extraordinary feeling in the middle of my forehead: not pain, but some special tension, as if all life had gathered in one place. During this dream, I learned that when my mind is fixed on the thought of God, on the name of Jesus Christ, the horrible creatures are instantly removed; but as soon as my thought was amused, at the same moment the demons surrounded me in order to prevent my thoughts from turning to God and the Jesus Prayer" [1538].

Alexandra Kupreyanova [1539]

From Family Memories [1540]

I

The village of Pokrovskoye was an old noble nest. In the last century, it was owned by Alexander Semenovich Brianchaninov, one of the most respected people in the province. Being a chamber page under Emperor Paul, then a friend of Pozdeev and other pious masons of that time, who left St. Petersburg after 1812, he transferred his refined habits to the northern wilderness. Pokrovskoye was rebuilt by him. His will and artistic taste created a small Versailles with a castle-house, a regal garden and an elegant church on the barren land of a clayey Russian mountain.

Usually, landlords' houses were built then wooden, quadrangular, with a large locker and a cramped hallway, where there was always a smell of ammonia. In the servant's room of the Pokrovsky House, as well as in the rooms, there was a smell of flowers brought from the greenhouse, or of fine French tobacco. The master sniffed; Smoking was considered bad form here. It was not the Osips and Zakhars who served the master, but a well-trained valet, who knew his business; so were the other servants, especially the uncle and the venerable, though still young, nurse for the children.

Alexander Semyonovich and his wife had sixteen children; all of them grew up in the first years under the supervision of nanny Efimovna, who was devoted in soul and body. In cases of serious illness of one of the children, the nurse came to the lady with a report: "Mother Sophia Afanasyevna, please bless the baby, they are working." The mother went, blessed the child and calmly returned to her duty. And her duty was to please her husband and maintain the dignity of a noble family. And since no one prevented the children from getting sick and dying, nine out of sixteen people survived. The eldest was Dmitry Alexandrovich, later a well-known clergyman, and the youngest was my mother, Marya Alexandrovna...

And for me, in my childhood and early youth, Pokrovskoye was a fairy tale, a dream come true. To this day, the memory of Pokrov's antiquity is vivid in me: tall rose bushes in the piers between the windows, a blue drawing room with shtoff furniture, a round hall, vast and bright, where the grandchildren and children of the great lord gathered for ceremonial dinners; a balcony with white lions, fragrant jasmines all around; above the balcony on the stone wall of the house there are stucco decorations in the form of knightly armor; Inside there is a wide spiral staircase upstairs and mezzanines at the top with mysterious attics. Oh, how mysterious were those low, dark attics! What amazing stories my imagination inhabited them! And who knows how many real stories they have witnessed?

In this beautiful house, in this dream come true, the young generation of the Brianchaninovs grew up. Among the children, several friendly couples formed by themselves. Only the eldest daughter, Alexandra Alexandrovna, unloved by her mother, stood alone. Dmitry Alexandrovich shared thoughts and feelings with his next brother, Peter. Cheerful, ruddy Sashenka got along with everyone. The middle ones - Senya and Lizonka, who looked alike, were playing pranks together. Graceful Sonechka was drawn to Dmitry and was loved by him. My younger brother Misha was united with my mother by such an inseparable friendship that in the family they were nicknamed by the common name "Mishmashak".

The main rule of education in Pokrovskoye was considered to be inexorable strictness. Tact and bright mind, and education coexisted strangely in the master with despotism, which surpassed the precepts of Domostroi himself.

Sofia Afanasyevna dearly loved her son Dmitry, but love for children was hidden here as an unworthy weakness. It was the kingdom of the rod. After one unjust punishment, my mother decided to protest; For this, she was whipped for the second time before fainting. Mikhail Alexandrovich, a self-loving boy, once bit his hand until it bled, trying not to scream during the execution. His fault was that, having heard a conversation in the village about the headman's frauds, he, with his usual vehemence, ran to tell his father about it. He interfered in the affairs of adults, which, of course, was not allowed.

I remember that in my old age my grandfather once said about his children: "I kept the elders strictly - and lost; pampered the smaller ones, and won nothing.