A French adventurer, who had been resident for some time in Moscow, gave an account of Rostophchin’s conduct in quitting the city, which might have prepared Napoleon for some such catastrophe.  This person, on hearing of the approach of his countrymen, had used some expressions which entitled him to a place in the prisons of Moscow.  The day before Buonaparte entered it, Rostophchin held a last court of justice.  This Frenchman, and a disaffected Russian, were brought before him.  The latter’s guilt having been clearly proved, the governor, understanding his father was in court, said he granted some minutes to the old man to converse with and bless his son.  “Shall I give my blessing to a rebel?” cried the aged parent—­“I hereby give him my curse.”  Rostophchin ordered the culprit to be executed, and then turning to the Frenchman, said, “Your preference of your own people was natural.  Take your liberty.  There was but one Russian traitor, and you have witnessed his death.”  The governor then set all the malefactors in the numerous jails of Moscow at liberty, and, abandoning the city to them, withdrew at the head of the inhabitants, who had for some time been preparing the means of retreat at his suggestion.

Such was the story of the Frenchman; and every hour brought some new confirmation of the relentless determination of Rostophchin’s countrymen.  Some peasants, brought in from the neighbouring country, were branded on the arm with the letter N. One of them understanding that this marked him as the property and adherent of Napoleon, instantly seized an axe and chopped off his limb.  Twelve slaves of Count Woronzow were taken together and commanded to enlist in the French service, or suffer death; four of the men folded their arms in silence, and so died.  The French officer in command spared the rest.  Such were the anecdotes which reached Napoleon as he surveyed, from the battlements of the Kremlin, the raging sea of fire which now swept the capital, east, west, north, and south.  During four days the conflagration endured, and four-fifths of the city were wholly consumed.  “Palaces and temples,” says the Russian author, Karamsin, “monuments of art and miracles of luxury, the remains of ages long since past, and the creations of yesterday, the tombs of ancestors, and the cradles of children, were indiscriminately destroyed.  Nothing was left of Moscow save the memory of her people, and their deep resolution to avenge her fall.”

During two days Napoleon witnessed from the Kremlin the spread of this fearful devastation, and, in spite of continual showers of sparks and brands, refused to listen to those who counselled retreat.  On the third night, the equinoctial gale rose, the Kremlin itself took fire, and it became doubtful whether it would be possible for him to withdraw in safety; and then he at length rode out of Moscow, through streets in many parts arched over with flames, and buried, where this was not the case, in one dense mantle of smoke.  “These are indeed Scythians,” said Napoleon.  He halted, and fixed his headquarters at Petrowsky, a country palace of the Czar, about a league distant.  But he could not withdraw his eyes from the rueful spectacle which the burning city presented, and from time to time repeated the same words, “This bodes great misfortune.”