pursue their work of barbarism, miscalled civilisation, deceived by the maxims of a master who adopted uniformity for his motto, and the uniform for his standard.

There are, then, neither artists nor architects in Russia: all who preserve any sentiment of the beautiful 0u<2;ht to throw themselves at the feet of the emperor, and implore him to spare his Kremlin.

VOL, III.С

26DESECRATION OF THE KREMLIN.

What the enemy could not do, the emperor is accomplishing. He is destroying the holy ramparts of which the miners of Buonaparte could scarcely disturb a stone.

And I, who am come to the Kremlin to see this historical wonder thus spoiled, dare not raise one cry against the perpetration of the impious work — dare not make one appeal, in the name of history, the arts, and good taste, in favour of these old monuments condemned to make room for the abortive conceptions of modern architecture. I protest, but it is very secretly, against this wrong inflicted upon a nation, upon history and good taste ; and if a few of the most intelligent and informed of the men I meet here dare to listen to me, all the answer that they venture to give is, that ' the emperor wishes his new residence to be more suitable than the old one : of what, then, do you complain ? ' (suitable* is the sacramental word of Russian despotism.) ' He has commanded that it should be rebuilt on the very spot, even, where stood the palace of his ancestors: he will have changed nothing;.'

I am, being a stranger, prudent, and answer nothing to such reasoning: but were I a Russian, I would defend, stone by stone, the ancient Avails and enchanted towers of the fortress of the Ivans; I would almost prefer the dungeon under the Xeva, or exile, to the shame of remaining a mute accomplice in this imperial vandalism. The martyr of good taste might yet obtain an honourable place below the martyr of faith: the arts are a religion,—a religion which, in

* convenable.

VIEW FROM THE KREMLIN.27

our days, is not the least powerful, nor the least revered.

The view obtained from the height of the terrace of the Kremlin is magnificent, more especially at evening. I shall often return to view the setting sun from the foot of the steeple of John the Great, the loftiest, I believe, in Moscow.

The plantations with which for some years past the fortress has been nearly surrounded, form an ornament characterised by much good taste. They beautify the modern merchant-city, and at the same time form a fringe for the Alcazar of the old Russians. The trees also add to the picturesque effect of the ancient ramparts. There are vast spaces in the thickness of the walls of this castle of romance, where are seen staircases, the boldness and height of which make one dizzy. The eye of fancy may discern there an entire population of the dead, descending with gentle steps, wandering over the platforms, or leaning on the balustrades of the old towers ; from whence they cast upon the world the cold, disdainful eye of death. The more I contemplate these irregular masses, infinite in the variety of their forms, the more I admire the Biblical architecture and the poetical inhabitants.

In the midst of the promenade which surrounds the ramparts, there is an archway which I have already noticed, but wliich continues to astonish me each time I see it. You leave a city, the surface of whose soil is very uneven, a city all studded with towers rising to the clouds, and plunge into a dark covered way, in which you ascend a long steep hill; on arriving at its summit, you again find yourself under the open heaven, where you look down upon С 2

2K

RECOLLECTIONS OF THE

another part of the city, hitherto unseen, which stretches to the border of a river, half dried up by the summer heats: this river is the Moskowa. When the last rays of the sun are about to withdraw, the water in its bed may be seen coloured with the tint of fire. This natural mirror, embosomed amid graceful hills, is very striking. Many of the distant buildings on those hills, especially the Hospital for Foundlings, are large as a city : they consist of benevolent institutions, schools, and religious foundations* The Moskowa, with its stone bridge, the convents, with their innumerable metal domes, which represent above the holy city the colossal images of priests unceasingly at prayer, the softened peal of the bells, whose sound is peculiarly harmonious in this land, the gentle murmur and motion of a calm, yet numerous crowd, continually animated, but never agitated by the silent and rapid transit of horses and carriages, the number of which is as great at Moscow as at Pctersburgh, — all these things will give an idea of the effect of a setting sun in this old capital. Every snmmer evening they make Moscow unlike any other city in the world: it is neither Europe noi Asia; it is Russia — and it is Russia's heart. Beyond the undulations of the city, above its illumined roofs and gilded dust, may be seen the Bird Mountain. It was from the summit of that hill that our soldiers first beheld Moscow. What a recollection for a Frenchman !

In surveying with the eye all the quarters of this large city, I sought in vain for some traces of the fire which awoke Europe and dethroned Buonaparte. Concµieror and commander when he entered Mos-

FRENCH ARMY.

2 U

cow, he left the holy city of the Russians a fugitive, thenceforward condemned to mistrust Fortune, whose inconstancy he once imagined he had vanquished.

The words cited by the Abbe de Pradt fill up, it appears to me, the measure of cruelty that may enter into the inordinate ambition of a soldier. ' There is but one step between the sublime and the ridiculous,' cried the hero, when at Warsaw, and without an army. And why did he say this ? In that solemn moment he thought only of the figure that he was going to make in the article of a newspaper ! The corpses of the men who perished for him were surely anything but ridiculous! The colossal vanity of the Emperor Napoleon could only be struck by the jeers with which some might hail a disaster, that will nevertheless make the nations tremble for ages, and the simple recollection of which has, for thirty years, made war impossible to Europe. To be occupied with self in so solemn a moment was to make vanity criminal. The sentence quoted by the Archbishop of Malines is the heart-cry of an egotist, who for one hour was master of the world, but could never be master of himself. That trait of inhumanity, displayed at such a moment, will be noted by history when it shall have had time to become equitable.

I could have wished to summon before me the imagery and decoration of this epic scene, this most astonishing event of modern times; but all here strive to bury great and stirring deeds in oblivion. A nation of slaves dreads its own heroism; the people, naturally and necessarily discreet, seek only for the shelter of insignificance. I have not met one с 3

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