The author at the beginning of the work “as if asks all those who have not seen the panorama of Moscow from the height of the peak of Ivan the Great. After all, Moscow is not a silent mass of cold stones set in some symmetrical order. She has her own peculiarity: “… she has her own soul, her own life.” As in the ancient Roman cemetery, the inscription on her stone reveals the thoughts and emotions of past times. Like the ocean, she has her sonorous, holy and prayerful tongue. Every morning, along with a new day, a “consonant hymn of bells” awakens. And it seems that these wonderful and incorporeal sounds take on a visible form.
The author believes that this unearthly bliss to listen to these divine sounds on the top of Ivan the Great. And it is
In the north you can see, a little to the right of the Petrovsky castle, a romantic grove of Mariin. And on the steep mountain Sukharev tower sizaya, a fantastic bulk rises. “She looks proudly at the neighborhood, as if she knows that Peter’s name is inscribed on her mossy brow!” It retains the imprint of that terrible time when no one could oppose the power of the sovereign.
Closer to the center of the city are visible buildings of a European type. In the square stands the Petrovsky Theater. Apollo stands on his portico, standing on one leg in a chariot. He looks with vexation at the Kremlin wall, “which jealously separates it from the ancient shrines of Russia!”
In the east, the picture is richer and more diverse. The wall ends with a corner tower. A bit to the left of it – the dome of the church of St. Basil the Blessed. All foreigners are amazed at it, but the Russians have not yet described it in all its glory. 1
The gloomy appearance of the temple makes people’s hearts despondent, so, probably, few people dare to bypass all its limits. And sometimes it seems that you see Ivan the Terrible himself in the last years of his life.
Next to this splendor, “the dirty crowd is boiling, the rows of shops are shining, the peddlers are shouting.” To the right of the Basil the Blessed is the small, wide dirty Moskva River. On it there are ships loaded with bread and firewood. On the left bank of the river there is an educational house, whose European posture separates from other neighboring buildings. To the east on the three hills “the broad masses of houses of all possible sizes and colors” are dazzling. ” Tired of such splendor, the gaze reaches the horizon with difficulty, where groups of several monasteries are seen. Among them, the most notable is the Simonov monastery with a platform on which our people at one time observed the movements of the Tatars.
To the south flows the river, beyond which the valley extends to the foot of Poklonnaya Gora. There, for the first time, Napoleon “threw the first glance at the disastrous Kremlin for him.”
In the west, behind a long tower, where only one swallow can live, you can see the arches of Kamenny. bridge. The water beneath it, held by a small dam, rushes out from under the bridge with noise and foam. Behind the bridge on the right side of the river is Alexeyevsky Monastery, and on the left Donskoi Monastery. And for the latter begin Vorobyovy mountains, “crowned with dense groves.”
At sunset, when the pink mist wears distant parts of the city, the ancient capital appears in all its splendor. The author compares it with a beauty, showing only her finest outfits and dresses in the evening.
He admires the Kremlin, which is beautiful with the golden heads of the cathedrals during this period of time. He “lies on a high mountain, like a crown of wings on the forehead of a formidable lord.” The author calls him and the altar, on which many sacrifices worthy of the fatherland were committed and committed.
You can not list all the charms of Moscow, it’s all necessary to observe personally.
“No, the Kremlin, its battlements, its dark passages, or its magnificent palaces can not be described… It is necessary to see, see… one must feel everything that they will tell the heart and imagination.”
The work shows the patriotic attitude of the author to Moscow and his homeland. And patriotism lies in the fact that he admires every corner of his native land. Sometimes it seems that he simply does not find words for the description or can not pick them up. Written in 20 years, it is still full of youthful enthusiasm and admiration for describing the sights of the city. The writer recollects and historical places connected with this or that historical event, which glorified our fatherland. The beauty and splendor of Moscow appears in all its beauty before the astonished gaze of the author.