But, unfortunately, we had not removed the key from the door of our Dulcineas' little room (which everyone had taken for a cupboard). This the Adjutant-Major opened, and, surprised at seeing a space within, he looked and saw our birds. He said nothing, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. When he was in the street, he held up the key on seeing me, and coming up to me he laughed.
'Ah!' he said, 'you have some caged birds, and you keep them all to yourselves. What in the devil's name do you do with those queer customers, and where did you find them? There are not many about.'
I told him then how I had found them, and how we kept them to wash our clothes.
'Well, then,' he said to the sergeant-major and me, 'you might lend them to me for a few days to wash my shirts, as they are horribly dirty. I hope you will be friendly, and not refuse me this.'
He took the women away the same evening, and no doubt they washed all the officers' shirts, as they did not come back for seven days.
A strong detachment of the regiment was sent onOctober 1st to plunder a large country-house some leagues from Moscow. We found very little—only a cart loaded with hay. As we returned, we met some Russian cavalry, who began caracoling round us without meaning to attack us seriously. We marched, however, in such a way as to show them that the advantage would not be theirs, for, although far fewer in numbers than they were, we had disabled several of them. They followed us to within a quarter of a league of Moscow.
On the 2nd we heard that the Emperor had given orders to arm the Kremlin; thirty pieces of cannon and howitzers of various calibre were to be placed on all the towers round the outside wall. The men on extra duty of every regiment of the Guard were commanded on the 3rd to dig and carry away all the materials coming from the old walls round the Kremlin, which the sapper-engineers had demolished, and all foundations which had been undermined.
On the 4th I went in my turn with the extra-duty men of our company; the next day the Colonel of the Engineers was killed close to me, by a brick from a mine just exploded. On the same day I saw near a church several dead bodies with the legs or arms eaten away, probably by wolves or dogs.
On the days off duty we drank, smoked, and laughed, talking of France and the distance separating it from us, and the possibility of being sent still farther off. When evening came, we invited our Muscovite slaves to join us (or, rather, our two Marquises, as we called them since the night of the ball), and we sat drinking Jamaica rum-punch.
The remainder of our stay in the town was passed in reviews and parades, up to the day when a courier came to inform the Emperor, in the middle of a review, that the Russians had broken the armistice, and had taken Murat'scavalry by surprise. The order to leave was therefore given, and the whole army was in instant movement; but our regiment only knew in the evening that we had orders to leave the next day. We gave the Muscovite women and the two tailors their share of the booty which we could not carry away. They threw themselves on the ground to kiss our feet twenty times—never had they imagined such riches.
FOOTNOTES:[17]I learned since that it was General Pernetty, commander of the gunners of the Imperial Guard.—Author's Note.[18]Our soldiers called the pillage of the town thefoire de Moscou.—Author's Note.[19]Houra!means 'En avant!'—Author's Note.[20]It is necessary here to say that we had opened a door of communication between our quarters and those of the company.—Author's Note.
FOOTNOTES:
[17]I learned since that it was General Pernetty, commander of the gunners of the Imperial Guard.—Author's Note.
[17]I learned since that it was General Pernetty, commander of the gunners of the Imperial Guard.—Author's Note.
[18]Our soldiers called the pillage of the town thefoire de Moscou.—Author's Note.
[18]Our soldiers called the pillage of the town thefoire de Moscou.—Author's Note.
[19]Houra!means 'En avant!'—Author's Note.
[19]Houra!means 'En avant!'—Author's Note.
[20]It is necessary here to say that we had opened a door of communication between our quarters and those of the company.—Author's Note.
[20]It is necessary here to say that we had opened a door of communication between our quarters and those of the company.—Author's Note.
CHAPTER III.
THE RETREAT—REVIEW OF MY KNAPSACK—THE EMPEROR IN DANGER—FROM MOJAISK TO SLAWKOWO.
Duringthe evening of October 18th, when, according to our daily custom, several non-commissioned officers were assembled together, stretched at full length like pashas on ermine, sable, lion and bear skins, smoking costly tobacco in magnificent pipes, an enormous silver bowl filled with punch before us, above which a huge loaf of sugar was melting, held in its place by two Russian bayonets—just as we were talking of France and of the glory of returning there as conquerors after so long an absence, just as we were composing farewells and promises of fidelity to our female Mongol, Chinese, and Indian friends—we heard a tremendous noise in the large room where the soldiers of our company slept. And who should enter but the Quarter-master with the announcement that we must hold ourselves in readiness to leave. The next day (the 19th) the town was filled with Jews and Russian peasants—the first-named to buy of the soldiers what they could not carry away, the last to pick up what we threw into the streets. We heard that Marshal Mortier was to remain at the Kremlin with 10,000 men to defend it if necessary.
We set out in the afternoon, packing some liquor fromour stores on Mother Dubois's cart, as well as our large silver bowl; it was almost dark when we got outside the town. We found ourselves amongst a great number of carts and waggons, driven by men of every nationality, three or four in a line, and stretching for the length of a league. We heard all round us French, German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, and other languages also, for there were Muscovite peasants among them, and a great number of Jews. This crowd of people, with their varied costumes and languages, the canteen masters with their wives and crying children, hurried forward in the most unheard of noise, tumult and disorder. Some had got their carts all smashed, and in consequence yelled and swore enough to drive one mad. This was the convoy of the whole army, and we had a great deal of trouble in getting past it. We marched by the Kalonga road (we were then in Asia); soon we stopped to bivouac in a wood for the rest of the night. As the hour was already far advanced, we had not long to rest.
We resumed our march at dawn, but before we had gone a league we again met a large part of the fatal convoy, which had passed us while we were asleep. Most of the carts were already shattered, and others could not move, the wheels sinking deep in the sandy road. We could hear screams in French, oaths in German, entreaties to the Almighty in Italian, and to the Holy Virgin in Spanish and Portuguese.
After getting past this babel we were forced to wait for the left of the column. I spent the time in making an examination of my knapsack, which seemed too heavy. I found several pounds of sugar, some rice, some biscuit, half a bottle of liqueur, a woman's Chinese silk dress, embroidered in gold and silver, several gold and silver ornaments, amongst them a little bit of the cross of Ivanthe Great[21]—at least, a piece of the outer covering of silver gilt, given me by a man in the company who had helped in taking it down. Besides these, I had my uniform, a woman's large riding-cloak (hazel colour, lined with green velvet; as I could not guess how it was worn, I imagined its late owner to be more than six feet high): then two silver pictures in relief, a foot long and eight inches high; one of them represented the Judgment of Paris on Mount Ida, the other showed Neptune on a chariot formed by a shell and drawn by sea-horses, all in the finest workmanship. I had, besides, several lockets and a Russian Prince's spittoon set with brilliants. These things were intended for presents, and had been found in cellars where the houses were burnt down.
No wonder the knapsack was so weighty! to lighten it, therefore, I left out my white trousers, feeling pretty certain I should not want them again just yet. I wore over my shirt a yellow silk waistcoat, wadded inside, which I had made myself out of a woman's skirt; above that a large cape lined with ermine, and a large pouch hung at my side, underneath the cape, by a silver cord. This was full of various things—amongst them, a crucifix in gold and silver, and a little Chinese porcelain vase. These objects seemed to have escaped the general ruin by a sort of miracle, and I still keep them as relics. Then there were my powder-flask, my firearms, and sixteen cartridges in my cartridge-case. Add to all this a fair amount of health, good spirits, and the hope of presenting my respects to the Mongol, Chinese and Indian ladies I hoped to meet, and you will have a very good idea of the Vélite sergeant of the Imperial Guard.
I had scarcely finished reviewing my treasures[22], when in front of us we heard a report of firearms: we were ordered to set off in double-quick time. We arrived half an hour afterwards at the place where part of the convoy, escorted by a detachment of red Lancers of the Guard, had been attacked by partisans. Several of the lancers were killed, also some Russians and many horses. Near a cart was a pretty woman, stretched on her back on the ground, killed by the shock. We marched on by a fairly good road, and stopped in the evening to bivouac in a wood.
Early the next morning we resumed our march, and met at noon a party of Cossacks of the regular army. The artillery made short work of them. We marched for most of this day over fields, and at night encamped on the banks of a stream.
There was rain on the 22nd, and it was slow and difficult walking all day. In the evening we posted ourselves near a wood. During the night we heard a loud explosion. Afterwards we discovered that Marshal Mortier had blown up the Kremlin, putting a great quantity of powder in the cellars. He left Moscow three days after we did with his 10,000 men. Two of the regiments were the Young Guard, which we met on the road to Mojaisk a few days afterwards. For the rest of the day we got on very slowly, although we were marching all the time.
On the 24th we found we were near Kalonga, and that same day, at Malo-Jaroslawetz, the army of Italy, commanded by Prince Eugene, engaged the Russian army, which was endeavouring to prevent our passage. In this bloody struggle 16,000 of our men met 70,000 Russians. The Russians lost 8,000 men, and we 3,000. Many ofour superior officers were killed and wounded—amongst them General Delzous, struck on the forehead by a ball. His brother, a Colonel, in trying to save him, was himself shot, and both died together on the same spot.
On the 25th I had been on guard since the previous evening near a little house where the Emperor had spent the night. There was a thick fog, as there often is in October. All at once, without informing anyone, the Emperor mounted his horse, merely followed by some orderly officers. He had scarcely gone, when we heard a great noise. Just at first we supposed it to be cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' but then we heard the order 'Aux armes!'—'To arms!' Six thousand Cossacks, commanded by Platoff, had come to surprise us, favoured by the fog and the deep ravines. The squadrons of the Guard on duty flew across the plain. We followed them, crossing a ravine to make a short-cut. We found ourselves directly in front of this host of savages, who howled like wolves as they drew back. Our squadrons came up with them, recaptured what they had taken of our baggage and waggons, and inflicted heavy losses on them.
When we got to the plain, we saw that the Emperor was in the midst of the Cossacks, surrounded by Generals and by his orderly officers, one of whom was dangerously wounded through a fatal mistake. Just as the squadrons arrived on the plain, many of the officers, for their own defence and that of the Emperor, who had nearly been taken in the midst of them, had been obliged to use their swords against the Cossacks. One of the orderly officers dropped his hat and his sword after killing and wounding several of the Cossacks; so, finding himself defenceless, he threw himself on a Cossack, and took his lance from him. Just at that moment a mounted Grenadier of the Guard caughtsight of him, and, thinking from his green cloak and his lance that he was a Cossack, rushed at him, and ran him through the body.
The unhappy Grenadier, on seeing his mistake, endeavoured to get killed. He flung himself amongst the enemy, striking to right and left, but everyone fled before him. After killing several men, without being able to die himself, he returned, alone and covered with blood, to ask after the officer he had wounded. Fortunately he recovered, and was taken back to France in a sledge.
I remember that, just after this incident, the Emperor was talking to Murat, laughing at the narrow escape he had had of being taken. Monfort, the Grenadier-vélite from Valenciennes, again distinguished himself, killing and wounding many Cossacks.
We waited for some time longer in this place, and then resumed our march, leaving Kalonga on the left. We crossed a muddy river by a very bad bridge, and took the direction of Mojaisk. It began to freeze during the night.
On the 28th we started very early, and during the day, after passing over a little river, we arrived at the famous battlefield (the Moskowa), covered all over with the dead, and with débris of all kinds. Legs, arms, and heads lay on the ground. Most of the bodies were Russians, as ours had been buried, as far as possible; but, as everything had been very hastily done, the heavy rain had uncovered many of them. It was a sad spectacle, the dead bodies hardly retaining a human resemblance. The battle had been fought fifty-two days before.
Further on we fixed our bivouac, passing on our way the great redoubt where General Caulaincourt had been killed and buried. We sheltered ourselves as well as we could, and made a fire with broken remains of rifles, carts, gun-carriages. We had no water, however, for the littlestream flowing near was full of decaying bodies. We had to go a quarter of a league to find any fit for drinking. When we had everything settled, I went with a friend[23]to explore the battlefield; we went as far as the ravine where Murat had pitched his tents.
On that same day a report went round that a French Grenadier had been found still living on the battlefield. He had both his legs cut off, and was sheltered by the body of a horse, whose flesh he had eaten to keep himself alive. His drink was the water from the stream full of the dead bodies of his comrades. I heard that he was saved—and no doubt for the time it was true—but afterwards he would be left behind, like so many others. That evening many whose store of provisions had come to an end began to feel hunger. Up till then everyone contributed his share of flour for the soup; but now, seeing that some did not contribute, men began to hide what they had to keep it for themselves. The soup made out of horseflesh—which we had eaten for the last few days—was all we had to eat in common.
On the following day we passed near a convent, used as a hospital for many of our wounded in the great battle. Many of them were still there, and the Emperor gave orders for them to be taken away on any of the carts, beginning with his own; but the canteen men, who had the care of these unfortunate people, left them for one pretext or another on the road, in order to keep all the booty they had brought from Moscow, which filled their carts.
We slept that night in a wood behind Ghjat, where the Emperor stayed. Snow fell for the first time during the night.
The next day (the 30th) the road had become veryheavy, and many carts laden with booty had the greatest difficulty in getting along. Several were damaged, and others were lightened by throwing away useless parts of the load. I was that day in the rear-guard, and could see from the extreme rear of the column the beginning of the frightful disorder that followed. The road was heaped with valuable things—pictures, candlesticks, and quantities of books. For more than an hour I was picking up volumes, which I glanced through, and then threw down again, to be taken up by others, who in their turn left them on the road—books such as Voltaire, Jean Jacques Rousseau, and Buffon's 'Natural History,' bound in red morocco and gold.
I had the good fortune that day to obtain a bearskin coat found by a man in our company in a broken-up waggon. On the same day ourcantinièrelost her cart containing our provisions, and our beautiful silver punch-bowl of so many pleasant memories.
On the 30th we got to Viasma—called by our men Ville au Schnaps, on account of all the brandy they had found there on going to Moscow. The Emperor stopped here, but our regiment went forward.
I forgot to say that before arriving at this town we made a halt, and while I was resting near a little pine wood I met a sergeant in the Chasseurs of the Guard, whom I knew.[24]He had taken advantage of a ready-made fire to cook a potful of rice, and invited me to share it. He had with him acantinièreof the regiment—a Hungarian. They were the best friends possible. She still had her cart with two horses intact, well filled with provisions, furs, and silver. I stayed for more than an hour with them. While I was there a non-commissioned Portugueseofficer came up to warm himself at our fire. I asked him where his regiment was, and he replied that it was dispersed, but that he, with a detachment, was under orders to escort seven or eight hundred Russian prisoners. They had no food, and were reduced to eating each other. Literally, when one of them died, he was cut up and divided between them, and afterwards eaten. He offered to let me see for myself—this I refused. This took place not a hundred yards from our resting-place. We learnt some days afterwards, that, having no food for the rest, they had been abandoned.
The sergeant andcantinièreof whom I spoke afterwards lost everything they had at Wilna, and were both taken prisoners.
On November 1st we slept near a wood, as we had done the preceding night. For the last few days we had nothing but horseflesh to eat. The few provisions we had brought from Moscow were all gone, and now, with the cold weather, our real miseries began. I had saved a little rice for myself, which I meant to keep for a great pinch, foreseeing much greater hardship in the future.
I was in the rear-guard again to-day. We were all non-commissioned officers, as many of the men stayed behind to rest and warm themselves at the fires made by those in front. As I walked, I saw to my right several men from different regiments round a large fire. The Adjutant-Major sent me to tell them to follow, and when I got near them I recognised Flament, a Dragoon-vélite. He was cooking a piece of horseflesh on the point of his sword, and invited me to join him. I asked him to follow the column. He said that he would come as soon as he had finished his meal, but that he was unfortunately obliged to walk in his riding-boots, as in an encounter with the Cossacks the day before his horse had strainedhimself, and he was forced to lead the animal. Luckily, I was able to give Flament a pair of shoes, so that he could walk like a foot soldier, and said good-bye to him, little thinking that I was not to see him again. Two days afterwards he was killed near a wood, just as he and some other stragglers were lighting a fire to rest themselves.
On the 2nd, before getting to Slawkowo, we saw close to the road ablockhaus, or military station—a kind of large fortified shed, filled with men from different regiments, and many wounded. All those who could follow us did so, and the slightly wounded were placed, as many as possible, in our carts. Those more seriously wounded were left, with their surgeons and doctors, to the mercy of the enemy.
FOOTNOTES:[21]I forgot to say that in the middle of the large cross of Ivan the Great was a small one in solid gold about a foot long.—Author's Note.[22]On account of the Continental blockade, a rumour ran through the army that we were to penetrate into Mongolia and China, and seize the English possessions there.—Author's Note.[23]Grangier, a sergeant.—Author's Note.[24]This man's name was Guinard; he was a native of Condé.—Author's Note.
FOOTNOTES:
[21]I forgot to say that in the middle of the large cross of Ivan the Great was a small one in solid gold about a foot long.—Author's Note.
[21]I forgot to say that in the middle of the large cross of Ivan the Great was a small one in solid gold about a foot long.—Author's Note.
[22]On account of the Continental blockade, a rumour ran through the army that we were to penetrate into Mongolia and China, and seize the English possessions there.—Author's Note.
[22]On account of the Continental blockade, a rumour ran through the army that we were to penetrate into Mongolia and China, and seize the English possessions there.—Author's Note.
[23]Grangier, a sergeant.—Author's Note.
[23]Grangier, a sergeant.—Author's Note.
[24]This man's name was Guinard; he was a native of Condé.—Author's Note.
[24]This man's name was Guinard; he was a native of Condé.—Author's Note.
CHAPTER IV.
DOROGOBOUI—VERMIN—A CANTINIÈRE—HUNGER.
Onthe 3rd we stayed at Slawkowo, and saw Russians to the right of us all the day. The other regiments of the Guard, who had remained behind, now joined us. We made a forced march on the 4th to reach Dorogoboui, the 'cabbage town.' We gave it this name on account of the vast number of cabbages we found there on going to Moscow. This was also the place where the Emperor settled the number of artillery and rifle-shots to be fired in the great battle. By seven in the evening we were still two leagues from the town, but the depth of the snow made marching exceedingly difficult. It was with infinite labour we got so far, and for a short time we lost our way.
It was quite eleven o'clock before we made our bivouac. Amongst the débris from the houses (for this town had been almost burned down, like so many others), we found wood enough to make fires and get thoroughly warm. But we had nothing to eat, and we were so horribly tired that we had not the strength to go and look for a horse, so we lay down to rest instead. One of the men in the company brought me some rush matting to make a bed, and with my head on my knapsack, my feet to the fire, I went to sleep.
I had slept for about an hour, when I felt an unbearable tingling over the whole of my body. Mechanically I passed my hand over my chest and other parts of my body, and to my horror discovered that I was covered with vermin! I jumped up, and in less than two minutes was as naked as a new-born babe, having thrown my shirt and trousers into the fire. The crackling they made was like a brisk firing, and my mind was so full of what I was doing that I never noticed the large flakes of snow falling all over me. I shook the rest of my clothes over the fire, and put on my only remaining shirt and pair of trousers; and, feeling miserable almost to the point of tears, I sat on my knapsack, covered with my bearskin, and, my head in my hands, spent the rest of the night as far as possible from the cursed rush matting on which I had slept. The men who took my place caught nothing, so I suppose I monopolized them all.
Early the next morning we set out (November 5th). Before leaving, a distribution of hand-mills was made in every regiment of the Guard, in case of finding any corn to grind; but as we found none, and the mills were very heavy, we got rid of them before twenty-four hours were over. This was a sad day—so many of our sick and wounded died. Up till now they had made superhuman efforts in the hope of reaching Smolensk and finding food and shelter.
In the evening we stopped near a wood, and the order was given to make shelters for the night. Just afterwards ourcantinière, Madame Dubois, the regimental barber's wife, was taken ill, and in the midst of the falling snow, with twenty degrees of frost,i.e., about ten below zero, she was delivered of a fine boy—a miserable position for the poor woman. Colonel Bodel, who commanded our regiment, did all he possibly could to make her comfortable, lending his cloak to cover the shelter where she lay. Madame Dubois bore her pain and discomfort bravely; the surgeon did his best, and all ended happily. That same night our men killed a white bear, which was eaten at once. After spending a miserable night, on account of the fearful cold, we set out again. The Colonel lent Madame Dubois his horse. She held her new-born infant wrapped in a sheepskin in her arms, and she herself wore the cloaks of two men who had died during the night.
There was a dense fog that day, November 6th, and more than twenty-two degrees of frost. Our lips were frozen, our brains too; the whole atmosphere was icy. There was a fearful wind, and the snow fell in enormous flakes. We lost sight not only of the sky, but of the men in front of us. As we approached a wretched village,[25]a horseman came at full speed, asking for the Emperor. We heard afterwards that it was a General bringing news of Malet's conspiracy in Paris.
We were just then packed very closely together near a wood, and had a long time to wait before we could resume our march, as the road was narrow. As several of us sat together beating with our feet to keep warm, and talking of the fearful hunger we felt, all at once I became aware of the smell of warm bread. I turned round and behind me saw a man wrapped in a great fur cape, from which came the smell I had noticed. I spoke to him at once, saying, 'Sir, you have some bread; you must sell it to me.' As he moved away, I caught him by the arm, and, seeing that he could not get rid of me, he drew out from under his cloak a cake still warm. With one hand I seized the cake, while with the other I gave him five francs. But hardly had I the cake in my hand, when my companionsthrew themselves on it like madmen, and tore it from me. I only had the little bit I held between my thumb and two first fingers.
While this was going on, the Surgeon-Major (for it was he) went off, and well for him he did so, as he might have been killed for the sake of the rest of the cake. He had probably found some flour in the village, and had had time to make the cake while waiting for us.
During this half-hour several men had lain down and died; many more had fallen in the column while marching. Our ranks were getting thinned already, and this was only the very beginning of our troubles. Whenever we stopped to eat hastily, the horses left behind were bled. The blood was caught in a saucepan, cooked, and eaten. But often we were forced to eat it before there was time to cook it. Either the order for departure was given, or the Russians were upon us. In the latter case we did not take much notice. I have sometimes seen men eating calmly, while others fired at the Russians to keep them off. But when the order was imperative and we were obliged to go, the saucepan was carried with us, and each man, as he marched, dipped his hands in and took what he wanted; his face in consequence became smeared with blood.
Very often we were obliged to leave the horses, for want of time to cut them up, and men would drop behind and hide themselves for fear of being forced to follow their regiments. Then they would throw themselves on the meat like vultures. These men seldom reappeared; they were either taken by the enemy or they died of cold.
This day's march was not so long as the preceding one; it was still daylight when we stopped. A village had been burnt down, and only a few rafters here and there remained. The officers encamped against these for thenight, getting a little shelter this way. Besides the fearful pains we felt all over through our great fatigue, we were by this time quite famishing. Those of us who still had a little rice or oatmeal, hid themselves to eat it in secret. We had no friends left; we looked suspiciously at each other, and even turned against our best comrade. I will not keep back a base act of ingratitude I committed against my truest friends. Like everyone else that day I was devoured by hunger; but besides that, I was also devoured by vermin I had got the previous day. We had not even a bit of horseflesh to eat, and we were waiting for some men of our company to come up who had stayed behind to cut up the fallen horses. I was standing near one of my friends, Poumot, a sergeant, close to a fire we had made, in quite indescribable torment, and looking round continually to see if no one was coming. Suddenly I seized his hand convulsively, and said:
'Look here: if I met anyone in the wood with a loaf of bread, I should force him to give me half!' And then, correcting myself, 'No,' I said, 'I would kill him to have it all!'
Almost before I had finished I strode off towards the wood, just as if I expected to meet the man and the loaf. When I got there, I roamed about for a quarter of an hour, and then, turning in the opposite direction from our bivouac, close by the borders of the wood, I saw a man seated near a fire. On the fire was a pot in which something was evidently cooking, as the man took a knife and, plunging it into the pot, drew out a potato, which he pinched, and then put back again, as if it were not boiled enough.
I ran towards him as hard as I could, but fearing that he might escape me, I made a little circuit, so as to come up behind him without his seeing me. The brushwoodcrackled, however, as I came through, and he turned round; but before he had time to speak, I said:
'Look here, comrade: you must either sell or give me your potatoes, or I shall carry away the pot by force!'
He seemed quite taken by surprise, and as I put out my sword to fish with it in the pot, he said it did not belong to him, but to his master, a Polish General, who was camping close by, and that he had been ordered to hide himself here to cook the potatoes ready for the next day.
Without answering him, I offered him money, and began to take the potatoes. He told me they were not boiled enough yet, and as I seemed not to believe him, he took one out for me to feel. I tore it from him, and devoured it just as it was.
'They are not fit to eat—you can see that for yourself,' he said; 'hide yourself for a little while, try to be patient, and don't let anyone see you till the potatoes are boiled, and then I will give you some.'
I did as he bade me, hiding behind a bush, but not losing sight of him. After about five or six minutes, thinking no doubt that I was some distance off, he looked stealthily to right and left, and taking the pot, he ran off with it. Not far, however, as I soon stopped him, and threatened to take the whole if he did not give me half. He said again that the potatoes belonged to his General.
'I must have them if they are the Emperor's,' I cried. 'I am dying of hunger.'
Seeing he could not get rid of me, he gave me seven. I paid him fifteen francs, and left him. He then called me back, and gave me two more. They were hardly cooked at all, but that did not matter much to me. I ate one, and put the rest in my bag. I reckoned that, with a little horseflesh, they would last me for three days, allowing two each day.
As I walked on, thinking of my potatoes, I lost my way. I was made aware of this by hearing cries and curses from five men, who were fighting like dogs; the leg of a horse on the ground was the cause of the disturbance. One of them, on seeing me, told me that he and his companion, both artillery soldiers, had killed a horse behind the wood, and that, on returning with their portion, they had been attacked by three men of another regiment. If I would help them they would give me a share. I feared the same sort of fate for my potatoes, so I replied that I could not wait, but that if they could hold on for a little I would send some people to help them. A little further on I met two men in our regiment to whom I told the story. The next day I heard that when they got to the place they only saw a man lying dead, covered with blood, killed by a great pine cudgel at his side. Probably the three aggressors had taken advantage of the absence of one of their enemies to fall on the other.
When at length I got back to my regiment, several of the men asked me if I had found anything. I answered 'No,' and, taking my place near the fire, I hollowed out a bed in the snow, stretched my bearskin coat to lie on, a cape lined with ermine for my head. Before going to sleep, I had my potato to eat. Hiding it by my cape, I was as quiet as possible, terrified lest anyone should observe that I was eating. I had a little snow for drink, and then went to sleep, holding my bag containing the rest of my provisions fast in my arms. Several times in the night, as I woke, I put in my hand, carefully counting my potatoes; so I passed the night without sharing with my starving companions the bit of luck I had had. I shall never forgive myself for this selfishness. I was awake and sitting on my knapsack before the reveille sounded in the morning. I saw that a terrible day was in store for us, on accountof the high wind. I made a hole in my bearskin coat, and put my head through it. The bear's head fell over my chest, and the rest over my back, but it was so long that it dragged on the ground. Before dawn we set out. We left behind us an enormous number of dead and dying. Further on it was worse still, as we had to stride over the dead bodies left on the road by the regiments going before us. It was worst of all for the rear-guard, as these were witnesses of all the horrors left by the whole army. The last corps were those commanded by Marshal Ney and Davoust, and the army of Italy under Prince Eugène. Daylight appeared when we had been marching for about an hour, and, as we had come up with the corps in front of us, we halted. Ourcantinière, Mother Dubois, took advantage of the halt to feed her baby, when suddenly we heard a cry of anguish. The infant was dead, and as stiff as a piece of wood. Those nearest to her tried to comfort her by saying that it was the best thing both for the baby and herself, and, in spite of her cries and tears, they took the infant from her breast. They gave it to a sapper, who, with the child's father, went a short distance from the road. The sapper dug a hole in the snow, the father on his knees holding the child in his arms. When the grave was made, he kissed the baby, and placed it in its tomb. It was covered with snow, and all was at an end.
We stopped an hour later for a long halt at the edge of a wood. Here a large party of artillery and cavalry had encamped, for we found a great many dead horses, some of them cut in pieces. There were many more still living, though numbed, standing still to be killed; those that had died during the night were frozen so hard that it was impossible to cut the flesh. During this disastrous march I noticed that we were always placed as much as possible behind the cavalry and artillery; so that when we haltedwhere they had passed the night, the horses they had left behind were ready for us.
While we were all resting, and each busy in arranging some fearful meal for himself, I retired furtively into the thickest part of the wood to eat the potatoes I had hidden so carefully. But a fearful disappointment was in store for me. When I tried to bite, I felt nothing but ice; my teeth slipped, and I could not get hold of a bit. I was sorry then that I had not shared the potatoes with the others, and I went back to them, holding in my hand the frozen one, covered with blood from my lips. They asked me what I had got, and I silently showed them the potato I held, and the others in my bag. They were snatched instantly from me; but the result, when they tried to bite, was no better than mine. They tried to thaw them at the fire, but they melted away like ice. While this was going on, other men came up to ask me where I had found the potatoes, and when I pointed to the wood they ran there, returning to say they had found nothing. They were very good to me, as they invited me to share a potful of horse's blood which they had cooked. I did not need two invitations. I have always felt very sorry for behaving as I did. The men believed that I found the potatoes in the wood, and I did not undeceive them. But all this is only a hundredth part of what came afterwards.
After an hour's rest we set out again, crossing a wood, where every now and then we came on open spaces, with houses in them occupied by Jews. Some of them are large, and built very much like our barns, only of wood. At each end is a large door. These houses take the place of posting houses. A carriage is taken in at one end, and, after changing horses, goes out at the other. The houses are built about three leagues apart; but most of them had disappeared, having been burnt at the army's first passage.
FOOTNOTES:[25]The name of the village was Mickalowka.—Author's Note.
FOOTNOTES:
[25]The name of the village was Mickalowka.—Author's Note.
[25]The name of the village was Mickalowka.—Author's Note.
CHAPTER V.
A DISASTER—A FAMILY DRAMA—MARSHAL MORTIER—TWENTY-SEVEN DEGREES OF FROST—WE REACH SMOLENSK—A DEN OF THIEVES.
Whenwe got out of the wood, near to a miserable little hamlet called Gara, I saw, a short distance off, one of the posting-houses I have been describing. I pointed it out to one of our sergeants, an Alsatian called Mather, and suggested to him that we should spend the night there, if we could possibly manage to get there first. We set off running, but found on arriving that it was crammed full with officers, men, and horses—about 800 people being there—so that there was not an inch of room for us.
While we were running, first one way and then another, trying to find places, the Imperial column and our own regiment passed, so we decided to spend the night under the horses tied up to the doors. Those who were camped round the house repeatedly tried to pull it down to make fires and shelters with the wood, and to get hold of the straw lying in a sort of loft. Some of this straw was used for beds by those inside the house, and, tightly packed though they were, they even made small fires to warm themselves and cook their horseflesh. They threatened to shoot those outside who tried to pull up the planks of the house. Some who had got on the roof, and had torn offplanks, were forced to jump down in danger of their lives.
It might have been perhaps eleven o'clock at night. Some of the unfortunate men were asleep, others were warming their limbs at the fire, when we heard an indistinct noise behind us. Fire had broken out in two places—in the centre and at the other end of the barn. When we tried to open the doors, the horses fastened to the inside reared and prevented our passing. It was impossible to get to the other door for the smoke and flames.
The confusion was supreme. The men from the further side of the barn threw themselves in a compact mass against the inside of the door near where we slept, to prevent others from getting in. To do this more effectually, they had fixed the door firmly with a cross-bar of wood. In less than two minutes the whole place was in flames; the fire had begun in the straw where the men slept, and rapidly spread to the dry beams above their heads. Some men near the door tried to open it, but failed, as it opened inwards. A terrible scene, impossible to describe, took place; smothered groans and terrible shrieks were heard from the building. The unfortunate wretches inside climbed one upon the other, endeavouring to get out through the roof; but flames were already issuing through the holes there, and no sooner did the men appear, their clothes on fire, and the hair burnt off their heads, than they were driven back again by the force of the fire.
Then cries and shrieks of rage were heard, the fire became a vast tossing mass, through the convulsive efforts the poor wretches made to escape. It was the picture of hell.
We saved seven men by dragging them through a hole made by a plank torn from its place. One of them was an officer of our regiment. His hands were burnt and his clothes torn, and the other six were worse off still. Itwas impossible to save any more in this way, as the others were already half suffocated by the smoke, and by the weight of other men on the top of them; we had to leave them to be burnt with the rest. Some few flung themselves off the roof, and begged us to finish them off by shooting them.
Other men who were camping near, half dead with cold by their wretched fires, now came running up, attracted by the light of the flames. They came, not to offer help—they were too late for that—but to warm themselves, and cook their horseflesh on the points of their swords and bayonets. In their opinion, the disaster was an intervention of Providence, as the men burnt in the barn were the richest in the army, having brought away more treasure than any others from Moscow. In spite of their hunger and weakness, we saw men running the risk of the flames to drag out the bodies of their wretched comrades, in order to hunt for what they could find. Others said, 'It serves them right; if they had let us get on to the roof, this would not have happened.' Others, again, stretched out their hands to the warmth, saying, 'What a beautiful fire!' regardless of the fact that several hundreds of their comrades, perhaps even of their relatives, had given their bodies to feed the flames.
Before the dawn, I set out with my companion to rejoin the regiment. We walked on, thinking of all that had passed, stumbling over dead and dying men. The cold was even more intense than on the day before. We joined two men of the line who had their teeth in a bit of horseflesh. They said, if they waited any longer, it would be frozen too hard to eat. They assured us as a fact that they had seen foreign soldiers (Croats) of our army dragging corpses out of the fire, cutting them up and eating them. I never saw this sort of thing myself, butI believe it frequently happened during this fatal campaign.
What object could these men have, almost dying as they were, in telling us this story, if it were not true? It was not an occasion for lying. I am sure that if I had not found any horseflesh myself, I could have turned cannibal. To understand the situation, one must have felt the madness of hunger; failing a man to eat, one could have demolished the devil himself, if he were only cooked.
Since we left Moscow, a pretty Russian carriage drawn by four horses had followed the Guards' column. For the last two days, however, we only saw two; the others had either been killed and eaten, or had died of the cold and fatigue. In the carriage was a lady, probably a widow, still young, with her two daughters, of seventeen and fifteen years of age. They were from Moscow, of French origin, and had yielded to the entreaties of one of our superior officers to accompany him to France. Perhaps the officer intended to marry the lady, for he was no longer very young. Be that as it may, these unhappy ladies were, like us, exposed to the terrible cold, and to all the miseries of hunger and want, feeling it, no doubt, far more keenly than we did.
The day was breaking when we got to the place where our regiment had slept, and the army was already in motion. During the last two days the regiments were diminished by a third of their number, and it was only too evident, from the slow, painful progress of many of the men, that they would succumb before the day was over. I saw the carriage containing the unfortunate ladies emerge from a little wood on to the highroad; there it stopped close to me, and I heard cries and groans proceeding from it. The officer in charge of the ladies opened the door, got into the carriage, and presently lifted out a dead body to the sappers waiting outside. One of the poor girls hadjust died. She was dressed in gray silk, with a cape of the same colour trimmed with ermine. She was still beautiful, but very thin. We were all very much touched at this sight, in spite of our usual indifference to tragic scenes, and when I saw the officer in tears, I wept also.
As the sappers took the girl's body away, I glanced into the carriage, and there I saw the mother and the other girl fallen one over the other. They seemed to be quite unconscious, and, indeed, their sufferings were ended that evening. I think they were all three buried by the sappers in the same grave, near Valoutina. The Lieutenant-Colonel, reproaching himself for this misfortune, tried at Krasnoë and other battles to meet his death; and in January, a few days after our arrival at Elbingen, he died of grief.
This day (November 8th) was a terrible one. We were late at our halting-place, and, as we were supposed to reach Smolensk the following day, the hope of getting food and rest, and the rumour that we were to go into cantonments there, inspired many of our men to superhuman exertions, in spite of the frightful cold and every kind of privation.
Before reaching the place for bivouac, we had to cross a deep ravine and climb a hill. Some artillerymen of the Guard had stopped in the ravine with their guns, quite unable to get up the hill. The horses were entirely spent, and the men's strength gone. They were accompanied by some gunners of the King of Prussia's Guard; they had been through the campaign with us, attached to our artillery as a Prussian contingent. They had made their bivouacs by the side of their guns, lighting their fires as best they could, and hoping to continue their way in the morning. Our regiment and the Chasseurs were on the right of the road. I believe these were the heights of Valoutina, where a battle had been fought on August 19th that same year.
I was on guard at Marshal Mortier's. His quarters were a barn without a roof. A hasty shelter had been put up, however, to keep out the snow and cold as much as possible. Our Colonel and the Adjutant-Major were there also. We tore some wood off the fence to make a little fire for the Marshal, at which we could all warm ourselves. We had hardly settled down to cook a piece of horseflesh, when a man appeared, his head tied up in a handkerchief, his hands swathed in rags, and his clothes burnt. He cried out as he came up:
'Ah, Colonel, how miserable I am! I am suffering terribly!'
The Colonel turned round, asking him who he was, where he came from, and what was the matter with him.
'Ah, Colonel,' he said, 'I have lost everything, and I am frightfully burnt.'
The Colonel then recognised him, and said:
'That was your own fault; you should have kept with the regiment. You have disappeared for several days. What have you been doing? You ought to have shown an example, and been ready, like us, to die at your post. Do you understand, sir?'
But the poor devil did not hear or understand, and this was not the right time to lecture. The man was the officer we had saved from the fire at the barn, and who was supposed to possess a great many gold and precious things taken at Moscow. He had lost everything, however; his horse and his belongings had all gone. The Marshal and the Colonel began to talk of the fire, and of several officers who had perished there with their servants. As they knew I had been present, they asked me for details of the disaster, as the officer we had saved could say nothing—he was too much overcome.
It was perhaps nine o'clock, an intensely dark night,and many of us were already asleep—a sleep continually broken by the cold and the pain we suffered from fatigue and hunger. The fire also was constantly going out. We thought of the next day, which should bring us to Smolensk, where we had heard our misery would be over, as food could be had there and we should take up our quarters.
I had just finished my miserable supper of horse's liver, with snow for drink; the Marshal had eaten some also, but he had besides a little biscuit and a drop of brandy—not a very delicate repast for a Marshal of France, but quite luxurious in our present unfortunate circumstances.
As we were eating, the Marshal saw a man leaning on his musket at the entrance to the barn, and asked him why he was there. The man replied that he was on sentry duty.
'For whom?' said the Marshal; 'and why should you do it? You cannot keep out cold and hunger from us. Come in and sit down by the fire.'
He then asked for some sort of pillow for his head. His servant brought him a portmanteau, and, wrapping himself in his cloak, he went to sleep. As I was following his example, in my bearskin, we were roused by an extraordinary noise. This was the north wind travelling over the forests, bringing with it heavy snow and twenty-seven degrees of frost, so that it became quite impossible for the men to stay where they had camped. We heard them shouting as they ran about towards any fire they saw; but the heavy snow-storms caught them, and they could soon run no more, or if they tried to do so, they fell and never rose again. In this way many hundreds perished, and thousands died of those who had stayed where they were camped. We were most fortunate in getting shelter in our corner of the barn. Many men took refuge with us, and thus saved their lives.
I must relate an act of devotion called forth by this disastrous night, when all the powers of hell seemed to be turned loose on us.
The Prince Émile of Hesse-Cassel was with us, and his contingent, composed of several regiments of cavalry and infantry. Like us, he bivouacked on the left side of the road, with the remainder of his unfortunate men, now reduced to five or six hundred. About a hundred and fifty dragoons were left; but these were almost all on foot, their horses being dead and eaten. These brave men, almost frozen with the cold, sacrificed themselves in this awful night to save their young Prince, not more than twenty years of age. They stood round him the whole night wrapped in their great white cloaks, pressed tightly one against the other, protecting him from the wind and cold. The next morning three-quarters of them were dead and buried beneath the snow, along with ten thousand others from different corps.
At daylight, to regain the road, we were obliged to go down to the ravine, where the evening before the artillerymen had made their bivouac. Not one was left alive; men and horses were all covered with snow—the men still round the fires, the horses harnessed to the guns, which we were forced to leave there.
It almost always happened that the weather became more endurable after a storm and excessive cold. It seemed as if Nature had wearied herself out in torturing us, and she must have breathing-space before she struck us again.
All who were still alive set out once more. To right and left of the road men half dead crept out of wretched shelters formed by pine branches, buried all night under the snow. Others came from further off in the woods, dragging themselves painfully along. We halted a little, waiting for them, talking to each other of the horrors ofthe night and the incredible number of men we had lost, and looking mechanically over that terrible field. Piles of arms were there in places, many others overthrown, but no one to take them up.
After collecting together as far as we could, we recommenced the march, our regiment forming the rear-guard. This was a most painful and weary day for us, as numbers of men could no longer walk, and we were obliged to hold them up under the arms, dragging them with us, to save them if possible by getting them to Smolensk.
We had to cross a little wood before reaching the town; here we came up with all the artillery collected together. The horses were a fearful sight; the gun-carriages and waggons were crowded with sick men dying from the cold. I remember that one of my old friends named Ficq, from the same part of the country as myself, was in this condition. I asked a Chasseur of the Guard of his regiment what had become of him, and he told me only a few minutes ago he had fallen dead on the road. Just at that place he said the road was narrow, and in a deep hollow, so that they could not carry his body to the side. All the artillery, therefore, had passed over him, as well as some others fallen in the same place.
I was walking now in a narrow footpath in the wood to the left of the road, and with me was one of my friends, a sergeant in the same regiment. We suddenly came upon a gunner of the Guard lying right across the path. By him was another gunner stripping his clothes from him. We could see that the man was not dead, as his legs moved, and every now and then he struck the ground with his fists. Without saying a word, my companion gave the wretched thief a blow in the back with the butt of his musket. We immediately abused him violently for his barbarous conduct. He answered that, although the otherwas not dead, he very soon would have died, as he had been quite unconscious when placed there to be out of the way of the artillery; and, besides, he was his messmate, and if anyone had the clothes he was the right man.
The same thing frequently happened to these wretched men who were supposed to have money about them. There were many who remained by those who had fallen: not to help them, but to behave as did the gunner.
For the honour of humanity, perhaps, I ought not to describe all these scenes of horror, but I have determined to write down all I saw. I cannot do otherwise, and, besides, all these things have taken such possession of my mind that I think if I write them down they will cease to trouble me. And if in this disastrous campaign acts of infamy were committed, there were noble actions, too, which do honour to our humanity; amongst others, I have seen men carry a wounded officer on their shoulders for many days.
As we emerged from the wood, we met about a hundred lancers mounted on good horses with new equipments. They came from Smolensk, where they had been all the time. They were horrified on seeing the wretched condition we were in, and we were no less surprised to see their well-being. Many of our men ran after them like beggars, asking if they had a bit of bread or biscuit to give them.
We now made a halt to wait for those who were bringing the sick. It was a most harrowing sight. Talk to them as we would of the hope of good food and lodging, they seemed not to hear anything. They were like clay figures, walking where they were led, standing still if they were left. The strongest among them took turns in carrying the arms and knapsacks, for these unfortunate men, who, besideshaving lost their strength and a part of their reason, had also lost their fingers and toes.
We now saw the Dnieper again on our left, and on the further bank caught sight of the thousands of men who had crossed the river on the ice. Foot soldiers and cavalry were there from different corps, running as fast as they could towards a distant village to get food and shelter for the night. We marched on painfully for another hour, and in the evening reached the banks of the fatal Boristhène; we crossed the river, and, worn out with fatigue and almost dying, we were at last beneath the walls of the town.
Thousands of men were there already, from every corps and of every nation. They were there waiting at the gates and ramparts till they could gain admission, and this had been refused them on the ground that, marching as they were without officers or order, and already dying of hunger, they might pillage the town for provisions. Many hundreds of these men were already dead or dying. When we arrived there with the rest of the Guard in an orderly fashion, and taking the utmost precaution for our sick and wounded, the gates were opened, and we entered. The greater number broke the ranks, and spread on all sides, anxious to find some roof under which to spend the night, and eat the food promised us.
To obtain any sort of order, it was announced that men isolated from the rest would get nothing; so after this the men were careful to rejoin their regiments, and choose a head to represent them, as several of the old regiments existed no longer. We of the Imperial Guard crossed the town with extreme difficulty, worn out with fatigue as we were. We had to climb the steep slope which separates the Boristhène from the other gate; this was covered with ice, and at every step the weakest of our men fell and had to be lifted up; others could not walk at all.
In this way we came to the side of the faubourg which had been burnt at the bombardment last August. We settled down as well as we could, in the ruins of those houses the fire had not quite destroyed. The sick and wounded who had had strength and courage enough to come with us were made as comfortable as possible. We were obliged to leave some of them, however, in a hut in a wood, near the entrance of the town, being much too ill to go any farther. Amongst them was a friend of mine, in a dying condition. He had dragged himself so far, hoping to find a hospital, for we had all hoped to stay in this town and the neighbourhood until the spring. Our hopes were disappointed, however, as most of the villages were burnt and in ruins, and the town of Smolensk existed only in name. Nothing was to be seen but the walls of houses built of stone; the greater part of the town had been built of wood, and had disappeared. The town, in fact, was a mere skeleton. If we went any distance in the dark, we came on pitfalls—that is, the cellars belonging to the wooden houses, now completely gone. These cellars were covered with snow, and if any man was so unfortunate as to step on one, he disappeared, and we saw him no more. A great many men were lost in this manner. Their bodies were dragged out again the next day, not for burial, but for the sake of their clothes, or anything else they might have about them. All those who died, whether on the march or while we stopped, were treated in the same way. The living men despoiled the dead, very often, in their turn, dying a few hours afterwards, and being subjected to the same fate.
Soon after our arrival, a little flour was given out to us, and about an ounce of biscuit, more, indeed, than we could have hoped for. Those of us who had a saucepan made hasty pudding; others made cakes, and cooked them in theashes, devouring them half raw. Several of the men were dangerously ill afterwards, in consequence of the avidity with which they devoured the food. I was lucky enough not to suffer, although I had not tasted soup since November 1st, and the hasty pudding made of rye flour was as heavy as lead.
Many of the sick men who had made gigantic efforts to get here died, and as they occupied the best positions in our miserable ruins, their bodies were hastily removed, so that others could take their places.
After resting a little, in spite of the cold and falling snow, I went out to look for one of my comrades. He was my best and dearest friend; we had been together for seven years, and we had everything in common. His name was Grangier.[26]At Viasma he had gone forward with a detachment, escorting a waggon belonging to Marshal Bessières, and I had not seen him since. I heard that he had arrived two days ago, and was quartered in one of the faubourgs. The hope of seeing him again, and also of sharing his provisions and his quarters, decided me to go at once. Without a word to anyone, I took my knapsack and re-entered the town by the road we had taken, and after falling on the steep and slippery slope several times, I reached the gate by which we had entered.
I stopped to see after the men we had left near the guard at the gate; this guard was composed of men from Baden, who partly formed the garrison. But my surprise was great on seeing the friend we had left with the others, till we could fetch them away, lying at the door of the hut, with nothing on but his trousers; everything had been taken from him, even his boots.
The Baden men told me that soldiers from the regiment had been to fetch the others, and, finding that this man was dead, they had themselves taken his clothes, and that afterwards they had carried away the two sick men, going round the town by the ramparts, hoping to find an easier road. While I was there several wretched men from different regiments came also, leaning on their muskets, hardly able to drag themselves along. Others, who were still on the farther side of the Boristhène, had fallen down in the snow, crying and imploring help. These German soldiers, however, either did not or would not understand. Fortunately, a young officer in command spoke French, and I begged him, in common humanity, to send help to these men over the bridge. He replied that since our arrival more than half his guard had been employed in that way, that there were hardly any men left, and that his guard-room was filled with sick and wounded, till there was no room to move.
However, as I entreated, he sent three men, who came back soon afterwards supporting an old Chasseur of the Cavalry of the Guard. They said they had left many others who would have to be carried, and that in the meantime they had put them near a large fire. The old Chasseur had nearly all his toes frozen, and had wrapped them up in a sheepskin. His beard, whiskers, and moustache were filled with icicles. They led him near a fire, where he sat down, and then he began to curse Alexander, the Emperor of Russia, the country, and the God of Russia. Then he asked me if brandy had been given out.
I said, 'No, not yet; there does not seem much chance of it.'
'Then,' he said, 'I had better die.'
The young German officer, on seeing the veteran suffer so terribly, could resist no longer, and, drawing a bottle of brandy from his pocket, he gave some to him.
'Thanks,' he said; 'you have saved my life. If I ever have an opportunity of saving your life at the cost of my own, you may be sure I shall not hesitate a moment. Remember Roland, Chasseur of the Old Guard, now on foot, or, to be exact, on no feet just at present. I had to leave my horse three days ago, and blew out his brains to put an end to his sufferings. I cut a piece off his leg afterwards, and I am going to eat a little now.'
Saying this, he unfastened the portmanteau he carried on his back, and, taking out some horseflesh, he offered some first to the officer and then to me. The officer gave him the bottle of brandy, and begged him to keep it. The old chasseur was grateful beyond all words. He again asked the officer not to forget him either in garrison or in the field, and finally said:
'The right sort never die.' But directly afterwards he reminded himself what a foolish speech he had made. 'For,' he said, 'there were many as good as me among the thousands who have died these last three days. I have been in Egypt, and, by God! it was no comparison with this. I hope to goodness we are at the end of our troubles; they say we are to take up our quarters here and wait for the spring, when we can take our revenge.'
The poor old fellow, rendered so talkative by a few mouthfuls of brandy, had no conception that we were only at the beginning of our troubles!
It was quite eleven o'clock, but I had not given up the search for Grangier, even during the night. I asked the officer to direct me to where he supposed Marshal Bessières was quartered; but either I was misinformed or I did not understand, and I mistook the road. I found myself with the rampart on my right, and the Boristhène flowing beneath; on my left was a piece of waste ground, on the site of houses burnt down. Here and there through thedarkness I saw odd beams and rafters standing out like shadows on the snow. The road I had taken was such a bad one, and I was so tired, that, after stumbling on a little way, I regretted having come alone. I began to retrace my steps, and put off my search for Grangier till the next day, when I heard someone behind me, and, turning, I recognised one of the Baden soldiers carrying a little barrel looking like brandy on his shoulder. I called to him, but he did not answer, and when I followed him, he doubled his pace. I did the same. He then ran down a rapid slope, and I tried to follow him; but my legs gave way beneath me, and I rolled from top to bottom, getting to the door of a cellar as soon as he did. The weight of my body against the door opened it, and I went in before the Baden fellow, with my right shoulder badly bruised, however.
I had scarcely time to collect my wits and look about me, when I was startled by confused cries in different languages from a dozen people lying on straw round a fire. They were French, German, and Italian, and I saw at once they were a gang of thieves who banded themselves together, travelled before the army, and arrived first at any houses they found, or camped separately in the villages. As soon as the army arrived at any place, the thieves came out of their hiding, prowled round the bivouacs, stole as quietly as possible their horses and bags from the officers, and set out again very early in the morning before the army started. This was their plan every day. The gang was one of those which had prowled about ever since the great cold began, and multiplied as they went.
I was stunned by my fall, and lay still for a minute, when one of the thieves lit a bit of straw to see me better. It was impossible to discover what regiment I belonged to on account of my bearskin. As soon, however, as he caughtsight of the Imperial eagle on my shako, he called out in a jeering way, 'Ah! the Imperial Guard! Out with you! out with you!' And the others repeated, 'Get out! Out with you!'
I was stupefied and not at all alarmed by their shouting, and I got up to beg them to let me stay till morning, as fate or luck had brought me there. But the man who had spoken first, and seemed to be the chief, replied that I must go at once, and they all chorused, 'Be off! Out with you!'
A German was laying his hands on me, when I gave him a blow in the chest that sent him sprawling among the others, putting my hand on the hilt of my sword at the same time (my musket had been left behind in my roll down the hill). The chief applauded me for the blow I had given, saying a German, a sauerkraut-eater, had no business to touch a Frenchman. As I saw that the man was disposed to take my part, I announced that I would not go away until the morning, and that I would rather be killed than die of cold on the road. One of two women there began to put in a word for me, but was immediately ordered, in curses and filthy language, to be silent. The chief told me again to go, asking me not to oblige him to use force, as, if he did, the question would soon be settled, and I should be sent flying to rejoin my regiment.
I asked him why he and his companions were not there also, and he told me it was none of my business, that he had nothing to do with me, that he was master here, and that I could not spend the night with him, as I should be in their way when they made their night excursions, taking advantage of the disorder of the town. I then asked for permission to stay and warm myself, and said that afterwards I would go. Not receiving any answer, I asked a second time; the chief said he would consent if I left in half anhour. He ordered a drummer, who seemed to be second in command, to see that this was done.
illus
THE BRIDGE OVER THE KOLOTSCHA NEAR BORODINO, SEPTEMBER 17, 1812.From a sketch made at the time by an officer of Napoleon's army.
As I wished to make the best of my opportunity, I asked if anyone had any food or brandy to sell. 'If we had,' they said, 'we should keep it ourselves.'
However, the little cask I had seen on the Baden man's shoulders looked very like brandy, and I understood when he said in his own language that he had taken it from acantinièrein his regiment, who had hidden it when the army came into the town. I concluded from this that the man was a new-comer, one of the garrison, and had only joined the thieves the day before, choosing, as they had done, to leave his regiment for the sake of plunder.
The drummer who was to see me out talked mysteriously with the others, and then asked me if I had any gold to buy brandy with.
'No,' I said, 'but I have some five-franc pieces.'
A woman near me, who had wished to take my part before, stooped down and seemed to be searching for something on the ground near the door. Coming close up to me, she said in a low voice: