A considerable number of memoirs, diaries, and autobiographical notes about Kharkiv from the 19th and early 20th centuries have survived. Thanks to these wonderful accounts, we can see our beautiful city through the eyes of people who lived in those times, stroll through its old streets, or assess a particular event through the lens of eyewitnesses or even participants.
Among such books, I must admit, my favorite is Volume 5 of *The Chronicle of My Life: Autobiographical Notes of His Eminence Savva, Archbishop of Tver and Kashin*.
The fact is that on December 7, 1874, Bishop Savva was transferred to the Kharkiv Diocese, where he remained until 1879. Across the book’s 942 pages, five years of life in our beloved city unfold before our eyes. The author generously shares his impressions of Kharkiv, its residents, local events, and his visits to the estates and churches of Sloboda Ukraine. Without any exaggeration, these records are of considerable value to the history of our city and region.
But today I would like to focus on a description of the author’s favorite place—namely, the country residence of the Bishop of Kharkiv. As early as May 12, 1875, Savva wrote: “…I moved from the city to the country house. The dacha of the Kharkiv Bishop’s Residence, known as ‘Vsekhsvyatskoe,’ is located two versts from the city limits and five versts from the Bishop’s Residence—a half-hour ride—beyond Kholodna Hora, to the west along the old Poltava Road. Almost the entire area of land belonging to the country estate—up to 15 desyatinas—is covered with a variety of trees, some of which are fruit trees. Amid the centuries-old trees stands a small but very spacious wooden house with a mezzanine and an attached chapel dedicated to All Saints.
Amid the Ukrainian summer heat and the dust of Kharkiv, which is so harsh on the eyes, this summer home is a superb, cool refuge. I spent most of the summer and fall here until the end of September; I went into the city only on holidays and Sundays to conduct my ministry, and twice a week for a few hours in the morning to receive petitioners. However, petitioners and officials were not prohibited from visiting me at the country house. Occasionally, acquaintances from the city would also visit me there. Life at the country house was peaceful and pleasant for me.”
In his letter to His Eminence Leonid, the Bishop of Kharkiv describes his country residence in greater detail:
Yesterday I moved from the stifling and dusty city to a rural wilderness, and I am eager to describe to you my new peaceful and secluded home, knowing how much you love country life. My country house, called Vsekhsvyatskoye (after the house church dedicated to All Saints), is a half-hour drive from my city home—that is, about 5 versts away. The entire area occupied by the estate, — up to 15 desiatinas, with a few exceptions — is covered with trees, some of which are fruit trees—apple, pear, plum, and cherry—while the majority are ordinary yet very diverse, though predominantly linden trees. There are quite a few large trees planted by the late His Eminence Innokenty. It takes at least an hour to walk all the paths in the garden. The country house is wooden, with a mezzanine and a small but attractive chapel. The house is no longer new, but it is still sturdy and very spacious: it has more than ten rooms. The location of the country estate is quite beautiful, but it is far from comparable to the surroundings of the Vitebsk estate. The main drawback here is the water. There used to be ponds—even ones with swans—but for some reason the dam burst; the water drained away, and now all that’s visible are pits filled with murky, dirty water left at the bottom of the former ponds.
Thus, after seven years of enjoying wonderful swimming in Vitebsk, I am now deprived of this pleasure here—a pleasure that is not only enjoyable but also beneficial to me. It is true that there is an opportunity to swim in the river here as well, but to do so requires a trip of two versts or more. Recalling, however, your past trips to swim at Fili or Ugresh, I should not despair. Following your example, perhaps I, too, will decide to make these two-verst trips if necessity demands it. We’ll see.
Judging by an entry dated July 5, 1875, necessity did indeed require trips to the river.
…No more than two versts away flows a small but clear river, where I go almost every day—in a carriage, of course—to bathe. Amid the terrible stifling heat and dust in the city, Vsekhsvyatskoye serves as a saving refuge for me. In Vitebsk, I don’t recall the thermometer ever rising above 22° in the shade, but here the heat now reaches 25–27° almost every day, and sometimes even 30°.
At his country residence, the bishop of Kharkiv received various visitors—for example, the Sumy merchant Dmitry Ivanovich Sukhanov.
From the school, His Eminence Alexander and I went out of town to Vsekhsvyatskoye, where, in the garden, amid quiet and clear weather, we spent a pleasant evening engaged in a sincere, brotherly conversation, even though we had not known each other personally before.
However, by mid-April, Savva had already learned that he was to be transferred to another diocese. So what does the disheartened bishop of Kharkiv do?
While awaiting the outcome of my bitter fate, I moved to Vsekhsvyatskoye yesterday to breathe in the clean, fresh air here one last time and gather strength for the new labors and feats that lie ahead.
And on April 23, 1879, Bishop Savva was appointed to the See of Tver. His transfer to his new post was met with mixed reactions by many. Savva himself mentions this.
So, on the 24th, I received a letter from Moscow from A. E. Viktorov. He wrote to me on the 21st:
“I congratulate you on your transfer to a new department, but I must admit I don’t quite understand whether this is a promotion for you on the hierarchical ladder or simply a transfer. Only one thing is clear to me—that the climate in Kharkiv is incomparably better than that in Tver; of course, there is no bishop’s dacha there as charming as your former Vsekhsvyatskoye; and you won’t be able to subscribe to as many books as you did in Kharkiv—that is, you’ll have fewer funds…”
Quite a lot is also known about the estates of today’s Kharkiv bishops. However, I sincerely doubt that they love their country residences as much as Savva loved “his peaceful Vsekhsvyatskoye.”
