The Massachusetts Spy, And Worcester County Advertiser

Count Rostopchin.—This distinguished Russian nobleman, whose name is associated with one of the most extraordinary events recorded in history, died lately at Moscow. He was Governor of that city at the time of the invasion of Russia by Bonaparte, and it was under his direction and superintendence that it was destroyed. This fact, or some cause, he has denied, but the denial is not credited, and the honor of having devised this terrible expedient for the deliverance of his country yet rests on him. "Moscow, gilded with its golden cupolas, the cradle and the tomb of the Russian nobility," contained at that time two hundred and ninety-five churches, and fifteen hundred mansions, with their gardens and dependencies, intermixed with smaller houses and cottages, spread over several leagues of territory. These edifices, including even the shops, are described as all covered with polished and painted iron. The churches were surrounded by a terrace and several steeples, terminating in golden balls, above which was exhibited the crescent, and, lastly, the cross, denoting the successive triumphs of Mahometanism and Christianity. A single ray of sunshine caused this splendid city to glisten with a thousand colours. At sight of it the traveller paused, delighted and astonished. It reminded him of the prodigies with which the oriental poets had amused his childhood, while, on entering it, the wealth and luxury, the gorgeous spectacles and sumptuous festivities, which he witnessed, made him imagine himself transported into "a city of kings."

Such is Moscow described to have been by one of the historians of the campaign, when the progress of the French invaders led to the resolution of devoting it a sacrifice to the flames, an idea which was conceived and executed by Count Rostopchin. The detail which Segur has given of the events attending it is highly interesting. Struck with astonishment at the silence which prevailed, on his approach, Napoleon entered the city, and it was long ere he could be brought to credit the reports of his officers, that Moscow was deserted! This was a disappointment for which he was not prepared. Little, however, did he then think of the greatness of the mortification which he was yet to endure. In a few hours the alarm was sounded that the city was on fire in several places. At first it was attributed to the carelessness of the soldiery, and the indignation of the Emperor was excited against the supposed authors of the calamity. But it was soon found that these fires owed their origin to other causes. All efforts to arrest their progress were found unavailing. In attempting to escape from the place where he had taken his residence, the Emperor was nearly suffocated. For several days and nights this terrible conflagration continued, and Moscow became a vast heap of ruins. But at the destruction of this splendid city, it was not the Russians, but their enemies, who shed bitter tears! In making this sacrifice, Rostopchin consigned to destruction the noblest of his palaces; and he subsequently caused his splendid mansion at Woronowo to be also destroyed, inscribing on the iron gate of a church, which was left standing, this memorial, which the French, shuddering with surprise, read as they approached:—“For eight years I have been embellishing this place, where I have lived happily in the bosom of my family. The inhabitants of this estate will leave it on your approach, while I have set fire to my house that it might not be polluted with your presence. Frenchmen! I have relinquished to you my two houses in Moscow, with furniture to the amount of half a million of rubles. Here you will find nothing but ashes!”

These scenes were but of yesterday—but where are the actors in them? “Alexander the Deliverer” is no more, and he who swayed the sceptre of uncontrolled sovereignty over so large a portion of the globe, rests powerless in the tomb; while, in another hemisphere, we behold the sepulchre of his rival, the conqueror of nations, himself so great, and to whom so many, either as allies or enemies, owed their greatness.

“Sic transit gloria mundi.”