in the slow,
And goading those by their own thoughts o'er-goaded;
Whose emissaries knock at every door
In rhythmal rote, and groan the great events
The hour is pregnant with?

SPIRIT OF THE YEARS

Rostopchin he,
The city governor, whose name will ring
Far down the forward years uncannily!

SPIRIT OF RUMOUR

His arts are strange, and strangely do they move him:--
To store the stews with stuffs inflammable,
To bid that pumps be wrecked, captives enlarged
And primed with brands for burning, are the intents
His warnings to the citizens outshade!

When the bulk of the populace has passed out eastwardly the Russian
army retreating from Borodino also passes through the city into the
country beyond without a halt. They mostly move in solemn silence,
though many soldiers rush from their ranks and load themselves with
spoil.

When they are got together again and have marched out, there goes by
on his horse a strange scarred old man with a foxy look, a swollen
neck and head and a hunched figure. He is KUTUZOF, surrounded by
his lieutenants. Away in the distance by other streets and bridges
with other divisions pass in like manner GENERALS BENNIGSEN, BARCLAY
DE TOLLY, DOKHTOROF, the mortally wounded BAGRATION in a carriage, and
other generals, all in melancholy procession one way, like autumnal
birds of passage. Then the rear-guard passes under MILORADOVITCH.

Next comes a procession of another kind.

A long string of carts with wounded men is seen, which trails out of
the city behind the army. Their clothing is soiled with dried blood,
and the bandages that enwrap them are caked with it.

The greater part of this migrant multitude takes the high road to
Vladimir.

SCENE VII

THE SAME. OUTSIDE THE CITY

[A hill forms the foreground, called the Hill of Salutation, near
the Smolensk road.

Herefrom the city appears as a splendid panorama, with its river,
its gardens, and its curiously grotesque architecture of domes and
spires. It is the peacock of cities to Western eyes, its roofs
twinkling in the rays of the September sun, amid which the ancient
citadel of the Tsars--the Kremlin--forms a centre-piece.

There enter on the hill at a gallop NAPOLEON, MURAT, EUGENE, NEY,
DARU, and the rest of the Imperial staff. The French