s to be ready in an
emergency to advance even as far as Moscow. It seems like a case of
wilful self-deception that on the tenth Napoleon wrote to Maret as if
convinced that the exposure of his flanks would escape Kutusoff's
notice, saying that the enemy struck in the heart was occupied only
with the heart, and not with the extremities. This would have been a
justifiable confidence had Borodino been decisive. But it was not
decisive, since the Russian army, far from being annihilated, drew off
with its files, companies, and regiments so far intact as to be easily
available for the quick incorporation of new recruits. This it was
which gave verisimilitude to Kutusoff's boast and made the French
occupation of Moscow a matter of doubtful expediency.

Yet the temptation was irresistible. Mother Moscow, as runs the
caressing Russian phrase, is indeed the source of all Muscovite
inspiration. Watered by the winding stream of the same name, its heart
is the Kremlin, its citadel of Russian architecture, Russian
orthodoxy, Russian authority, and Russian learning. From its
churches are promulgated the authoritative utterances of the Greek
Metropolitan, within its triangular walls is found the most
characteristic Muscovite architecture, behind its portals stand the
largest bell ever cast and the largest cannon ever founded until the
most recent times; statues of Russian heroes adorn its open spaces,
the splendors of its palaces are lavished with Muscovite profuseness,
the edicts of the White Czar thunder over his many million subjects
from its walls. Clustered about the Kremlin are the various quarters
of the town, which cover a space equal to the area of Paris, and
contain about one fourth as many inhabitants. The epithet of "holy
city" is amply justified by the sanctuary-citadel, but its aptness is
further sustained by the three hundred and sixty churches, each with
its tower and onion-shaped cupola, which are scattered through all the
districts. In the beginning of this century Moscow from within
appeared like a congeries of villages surrounded with groves and
gardens, each with its manor-house and parochial church. Around the
whole was a girdle of country-seats, and the beauty of the scene as
viewed by the approaching traveler was such as to kindle enthusiasm in
the coldest breast. The inhabitants had hoped that the "victory" of
Borodino would spare their home the shame of foreign occupation. When
the governor announced that in