Of all the historical memories connected with this monastery none is
more curious than that relating to the second funeral of Peter III. He
had been buried by his wife, in 1762, with much simplicity, in one of
the many churches of the Lavra, which contains the family tombs and
monuments not only of members of the imperial family, but of the noble
families most illustrious in the eighteenth century. When Paul I. came
to the throne, in 1796, his first care was to give his long-deceased
father a more fitting burial. The body was exhumed. Surrounded by his
court, Pavel Petrovitch took the imperial crown from the altar, placed
it on his own head, then laid it reverently on his father's coffin. When
Peter III. was transferred immediately afterward, with magnificent
ceremonial, to the Winter Palace, there to lie in state by the side of
his wife, Katherine II., and to accompany her to his proper
resting-place among the sovereigns of Russia, in the cathedral of the
Peter-Paul fortress, Count Alexei Grigorevitch Orloff was appointed,
with fine irony, to carry the crown before his former master, whom he
had betrayed, and in the necessity for whose first funeral he had played
the part of Fate. It was with considerable difficulty that he was hunted
up, while Emperor and pageant waited, in the obscure corner where he was
sobbing and weeping; and with still greater difficulty was he finally
persuaded to perform the task assigned to him in the procession.
Outside the vast monastery, which, like most Russian monasteries,
resembles a fortress, though, unlike most of them, it has never served
as such, the scene is almost rural. Pigeons, those symbols of the Holy
Ghost, inviolable in Russia, attack with impunity the grain bags in the
acres of storehouses opposite, pick holes, and eat their fill
undisturbed.
From this spot to the slight curve in the Prospekt, at the Znamenskaya
Square, a distance of about a mile, where the Moscow railway station is
situated, and where the train of steam tram-cars is superseded by less
terrifying horse-cars, the whole aspect of the avenue is that of a
provincial town, in the character of the people and the buildings, even
to the favorite crushed strawberry and azure washes, and green iron
roofs on the countrified shops. Here and there, not very far away, a
log-house may even be espied.
During the next three quarters of a mile the houses and shops are more
city-like, and, being newer than those beyond, are more ornamented as to
the stucco of their windows and doors. Here, as elsewhere in this
stoneless land, with rare exceptions, the buildings are of brick or
rubble, stuccoed and washed, generally in light yellow, with walls three
feet or more apart, warmly filled in, and ventilated through the
hermetically sealed windows by ample panes in the centre of the sashes,
or by apertures in the string-courses between stories, which open into
each room. Shops below, apartments above, this is the nearly invariable
rule.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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