CHAP. VII.

Moscow, September, 1814.

THE toils and fatigues of a long journey were now to have some repose; the long looked for object of our cares and wishes was approaching, and the spires of Moscow soon hailed our gladdened sight. When the weary pilgrim with tired limbs comes in view of the turrets of Medina, he stops at the distant fonts of the city, and his zeal and strength are awakened. In like manner did we, at view of this holy city, feel refreshed and restored. We forgot our toils, our sufferings,. and our cares; and a full and fresh tide of enthusiasm carried us along.

And here we must pause: before us stood the ancient and once proud seat of the mighty Czars; the once grand emporium of the North, where the fates of kings and nations were so proudly wielded; where despotism had so long reared its crest; where vice had so long held her court and where the tides of wealth and luxury were for ages rolling in as to a common centre. Here was to be seen every thing costly and magnificent; the grand mart of European and Asiatic

splendour, the pride and envy of the northern world.

This is the spot we now gazed on; what a change! lowly and prostrate it now lies, its crumbling towers, falling into. decay, its proud banners torn from their burning walls, and scattering the shivered fragments to the hollow winds

its temples torn-its gates demolished-its houses ransacked-its streets laid waste. One sad and sorrowful picture of desolation is thrown around: wherever the traveller turns his wearied eye it is still the same; he will yet see the dæmon of ruin stalking abroad in all the majesty of devastation, and treading on those mouldering piles, where perched the proud eagle of the north; he will still see the sorrowing inhabitant sighing over the ruins of his roofless dwelling, and clinging to the yet warm ashes of those sacred shrines, where so lately he had invoked his fathers and his saints.

Here indeed was a melancholy picture; on every side we turned our eye, fresh objects of dilapidated splendour presented themselves; fresh scenes of falling greatness were strewed around, and as we gazed on the crumbling heap, we needed not memory to give outline; we needed not fancy to give colouring,—the picture was complete.

And who can look on this sorrowing group

without one sad, one solitary sigh? Who can muffle himself up in his cold-blooded philosophy and look on with unconcern? Can his eye be as unmoved as the ruin on which it is gazing; cannot the wreck of fallen greatness shadow it with a cloud; cannot the wail of his fellow-man dim it with a tear? Happy, ye few, if such there be! your feelings may be envied, but ye have them not of nature!

The appearance of the city from the point at which we now were, is not equal to that from the opposite country; however, the innumerable spires and domes glittering in the horizon powerfully arrest and astonish the beholder. The extensive plain surrounding this part of the suburbs occupies nearly ten thousand acres, uncovered either by trees or houses: at a distance it is bounded by forests of birch. Here the army of Napoleon Buonaparte spread themselves, as a lawless band of ruffians, sharing the spoils of this devoted city. To this spot were conveyed every thing that could be snatched from the all-devouring flames; and even the helpless mothers and infants came to beg a covering to their nakedness, but who, as might be expected, were refused at the point of the bayonet. About two miles from the gate we passed the palace of Peterskoff, embellished by Peter the Great, and which he used as his favourite residence when at Moscow.

It is a huge gothic brick building, encompassed by a circular wall, with regular bastions. One great and vast feature of desolation surrounds it; the vestiges of war are strewed around its mutilated walls. Here Napoleon fixed his head quarters, when he found the Kremlin no longer a place of security against the raging flames; and here he became the dupe of his own credulity, and brought on himself that contempt and disgrace, which his unwarrantable pretensions so justly merited. From this palace he issued those empty decrees, which trumpeted forth falsehood in all its unblushing colours, while his dastardly soul shrank with fear and meanness from the dangers which surrounded him.

Crossing the first barriers of the city, a small dry ditch, we entered the Sloboda or suburbs, and reached the gate of the second division, where we were received by the guard, who strictly examined our passports, and escorted us to the police, where we left them, and entered our names. Here money was necessary to afford an entry into the town, without delay and vexation. as at the other capital. The entrance to the city exhibits a general scene of ruin, and appears, from those parts of the houses now standing, to have consisted of brick and wooden houses, huddled together without any order or neatness. At present nothing more excites the appearance

of wretchedness and filth; as we proceeded, the streets began to assume a more regular form, with the remains of large and splendid edifices divided from each other by mean hovels and gardens; churches of the most singular and gothic forms, with numerous gilded spires and domes, crowd on each other; it is almost impossible by any description to convey a correct idea of this singular appearance. All that ingenuity and religious enthusiasm could suggest, have been here executed, exhibiting more the laboured effects of rude show and expense, than elegance or utility. At the termination of the street by which we entered the city, we ascended a gentle elevation, and approached a lofty and massive wall, which appeared as the bulwark of an interior city. This is partly supported by an earthern mound, with a broad open space, through which a muddy puddle runs, called the Neglina river. To the right of this wall another immediately appears, more massive, and on a situation more elevated, and crowded with gilded spires and domes. This is the bulwark of the Kremlin, and the central part of the city.

From the circumstance of having engaged only one set of horses to bring us from Klin, we found on our arrival, that the postillion, being a stranger, and the situations of the hotels somewhat changed, he had considerable difficulty to procure a place