Novodevichy Convent

Listen first. Over the hum of the city, you may catch the low call of a bell, then the soft slap of water against the bank of the pond below. Swans and ducks drift across it. Behind them, a long red wall runs along the slope, its towers trimmed in white like icing on a cake. Above it all rise gilded domes and one tall, tiered bell tower. This is Novodevichy Convent. The name means the New Maidens' Convent, and for five centuries it has stood at a bend of the Moskva River.

The story begins with a war. In 1514, the forces of Moscow captured the city of Smolensk, a fortress town to the west that had long been contested with Lithuania. Ten years later, in 1524, Grand Prince Vasily the Third founded this convent to mark that victory. Its main church is named for the Smolensk icon of the Mother of God, a revered image of the Virgin. So from the very start, this place joined faith, politics and memory of war.

That is why the convent looks like a fortress. It sat on the old road toward Smolensk and guarded the southwestern approach to Moscow. The walls and towers you see today were rebuilt and strengthened over time. Notice how the battlements, the notched tops of the walls, are shaped like swallowtails. Once they were a working defence. Now they frame the domes behind them, and the effect is less military than ceremonial.

Here is something many visitors do not expect. This convent was not only a place of prayer. It was a place where powerful women lived, sometimes by choice and sometimes by force. Daughters, sisters and widows of the ruling families entered it. Some brought great wealth with them. Their gifts paid for buildings, icons and embroidery, and their presence pulled the convent close to the centre of power.

One of the most dramatic moments came in 1598. Tsar Fyodor, the last ruler of the old Rurikid line, had died without an heir. His widow, Irina, withdrew to this convent. Her brother, Boris Godunov, came here with her. Crowds gathered outside these walls and begged Boris to take the throne. He was proclaimed tsar from here. Historians still debate how spontaneous those crowds really were... but the scene became one of the great set pieces of Russian history.

Now look at the buildings with the ornate red-and-white decoration, the carved window frames and the layered towers. Much of this comes from the late seventeenth century. It belongs to a style called Moscow Baroque, which mixed traditional Russian forms with decorative ideas arriving from Western Europe. A great deal of this building work is linked to Sophia Alekseyevna, the half-sister of Peter the Great. For several years she ruled Russia as regent, and she lavished attention on this convent.

Then her fortunes turned. In 1689, the young Peter took power, and Sophia was sent to live here, under watch. Later, in 1698, a revolt broke out among the streltsy, the musketeer regiments of Moscow. Peter suspected his sister was involved. She was forced to take the veil as a nun. A grim story is often told — that rebels were hanged near the convent walls, within sight of her windows. Sophia never left. She died here and is buried within the convent.

The convent nearly vanished in 1812. When Napoleon's army retreated from Moscow, French troops planted explosives in several Moscow landmarks, and this was among them. According to a story told by the convent itself, the nuns put out the burning fuses before they could ignite the charges. Whatever the exact details, the buildings survived. Today the ensemble is listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, valued as an unusually complete example of a Moscow monastery.

As you walk inside, look for the Smolensk Cathedral, the oldest major building here. It is tall and white, with five domes, four green and one gold at the centre. Inside, if it is open to you, the walls are covered in painted figures of saints. A tall carved iconostasis, the screen of icons before the altar, rises toward the vaults. The light is dim and warm. Speak softly here — this is still a working religious community.

Now turn back toward the pond. Here is a second surprise. A popular local tale says that Tchaikovsky watched the swans on this water while he was thinking about Swan Lake. There is no firm proof, but Muscovites love the story. And in the small park nearby, look for a little bronze family of ducks. They are a copy of a famous sculpture from Boston, given to Moscow in 1991 as a gesture of friendship. Children often sit on them.

Just beyond the southern wall lies Novodevichy Cemetery, one of the most remarkable burial grounds in Russia. Writers, composers, scientists and political leaders rest here. Anton Chekhov is buried here, and so is Nikolai Gogol, whose remains were moved here during the Soviet period. Mikhail Bulgakov, author of The Master and Margarita, lies here too. A story often repeated says that the dark stone on his grave once stood over Gogol's, a writer he deeply admired.

The Soviet leaders here make the cemetery read like a history book cut in stone. Look for the grave of Nikita Khrushchev. His monument, by the sculptor Ernst Neizvestny, sets black stone against white stone, often understood as a portrait of a man with light and dark sides. Boris Yeltsin lies under a stone shaped like a rippling Russian flag. Mikhail Gorbachev rests beside his wife, Raisa. Take your time. Many graves carry portraits, instruments, even small sculptures of the person's work.

Before you leave, step back toward the water once more. Look at the long red wall, the white trim, the gold of the domes against the sky. Listen for the bells, for the swans, for the city traffic beyond the trees. Five hundred years of victories, exiles, prayers and funerals are folded into this one quiet bend of the river. As you walk away, glance back over your shoulder. The bell tower will stay in view for a long time.