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The great monastery of Simonov, about four
miles distant, will probably be the first which travelers will visit from
Moscow. The drive would be a pleasant one if the pavement were not so
agonizing. We turn to the left by the bridge beneath the Kremlin, and skirt the
river for some distance. There are many views worth painting, especially toward
evening. On the river are barges of corn, which are said to be each accompanied
by 50,000 of the privileged pigeons (emblems of the Holy Spirit), eating most
voraciously. On the low hill which we cross is the huge Monastery of the New
Redeemer (Novospaski Monastir), so called because it was, built by Ivan III in
the place of the original Spassky monastery of great-grand-father Kalita. It is
surrounded by high walls, and approached by a gateway. Its immense quiet
enclosure contains several churches. In the principal church, approached by a
picturesquely frescoed corridor, are the graves of many of the Romanoff family,
before any of its members were elected to the sovereignty. But the graves of
the family include that of Martha, mother of the Czar Michael, who had become a
nun when her husband, afterward the patriarch Philaret, became a monk. Her son
Michael and her grandson Alexis are represented on the walls near the
ikonastos. Alexis gave the monastery to the famous Nikon, who resided here till
his accession to the patriarchate, and went hence every Friday to the Kremlin,
to converse with the Czar after the church service. Almost more than the
churches in the Kremlin does the church of Novospaski seem to be crowded with
venerable icons.
Very beautiful and melodious, tho somewhat monotonous, is the singing in these
great monastic churches, where we may constantly hear monks singing the
"eternal memory" of a departed soul. Good bass voices are especially
appreciated in the Ectinia, which answers to the Litany of the Latin Church.
Extracts from the Old Testament and from the Epistles are read in the services,
as collected in the books called Minacon and Octocchos. When the Gospel is
going to be read the deacon arouses the attention of the congregation by the
loud exclamation of "Wisdom, stand up, let us hear the Holy Gospel!"
One of the most striking parts of the ordinary service is the hymn called
Trisagion, or thrice-holy, a hymn so called from the word "holy"
being thrice repeated. It is of high antiquity in the Church, and owes its
origin, as is pretended, to a miracle in the time of Proclus, Bishop of
Constantinople.
Between Novospaski and Simonov we pass a very picturesque ancient
Russo-Saracenic gateway. Then through a bit of wild open country we come to a
grove of trees, beyond which, on the edge of a steep, rise the walls of the
great monastery of Simonov, which was founded in 1370 by a nephew of St.
Sergius, on a site chosen by the saint himself. The imposing circle of towers
on the walls resisted many sieges, but in that of the Poles the place was taken
and sacked. It once possest twelve thousand male serfs and many villages; now
it has neither serf nor village. It's six churches, once too few, are now too
many.
The central gate, under the great bell-tower, has long been closed, and we
approach the monastery by a sandy lane between the walls and the cliff. Hence
we enter the enclosure - a peaceful retreat - with an avenue, and, in the
center, a tall church, with the five bulbous cupolas, said to represent Christ
and the four Evangelists, in the same way that thirteen are said to represent
Christ and the twelve Apostles. All around are little houses with gay gardens
of marigolds and dahlias, and bees humming in hedges of spiraea. The famous
metropolitan, St. Jonah, lived here as a monk. On the ikonastos of the church
is the icon with which St. Sergius blest Dmitri of the Don, when he went forth
against the Tartars, and beneath are buried his two warrior monks, who perished
in the combat.
To reach the Novo Devichi (the Newly-saved) (sic)
Monastery, we follow the road we took to the Sparrow Hills as far as the
outskirts of Moscow. Thence a wide street, with shabby houses scattered along
it, leads to a sandy dusty plain, whence rise, as from a desert, the
battlemented walls and weird lofty gate of the monastery, which was founded in
1524 in commemoration of the capture of Smolensk. The exterior is perhaps the
strangest, the interior the prettiest of all the monasteries. Masses of
flowers, carefully tended by the multitude of nuns, cluster round the graves,
which fill most of the space between the little houses and the church, with its
many domes shrouded in a veil of chain work. Little raised paved pathways for
winter lead in every direction. Silvery bells chime from the great tower. A
myriad birds perch upon the aerial webs of metal w6rk - the hated sparrows, as
well as the honored swallows.
There are multitudes of small birds, but it is affirmed that there are no
magpies within thirty miles of Moscow. The golden trowel of the metropolitan
was once carried off when he was about to lay a foundation stone. The workmen
were accused, knouted, and sent to Siberia, and then the bell-ringers
discovered that the magpies had carried it off to the top of the belfry, and
the birds were curst accordingly.
The abbess of Novo Devichi came and talked to us while we drew among the
flowers, gathered nosegays of zinnias, sweet- peas, and scabious for the ladies
of our party, and lamented her sorrows in the perversion of a niece, who, after
the privilege of being educated in a convent, had declared that she had a
vocation for-matrimony!
Catherine II founded an institution here.
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