FOOTNOTES:[56]Many people said thirty or thirty-two degrees.—Author's Note.[57]Since then I have seen General Fouché, and, on my reminding him of this episode at Wilna, he told me that, after going out, he was nearly assassinated by the people of the house, who tried to make him pay for what we had taken.—Author's Note.[58]M. Débonnez, from Condé, killed at Waterloo.—Author's Note.
FOOTNOTES:
[56]Many people said thirty or thirty-two degrees.—Author's Note.
[56]Many people said thirty or thirty-two degrees.—Author's Note.
[57]Since then I have seen General Fouché, and, on my reminding him of this episode at Wilna, he told me that, after going out, he was nearly assassinated by the people of the house, who tried to make him pay for what we had taken.—Author's Note.
[57]Since then I have seen General Fouché, and, on my reminding him of this episode at Wilna, he told me that, after going out, he was nearly assassinated by the people of the house, who tried to make him pay for what we had taken.—Author's Note.
[58]M. Débonnez, from Condé, killed at Waterloo.—Author's Note.
[58]M. Débonnez, from Condé, killed at Waterloo.—Author's Note.
CHAPTER X.
FROM WILNA TO KOWNO—THE REGIMENTAL DOG—MARSHAL NEY—THE TREASURY OF THE ARMY—I AM POISONED—THE THIEVES' DRIPPING—THE OLD GRENADIER, FALOPPA—GENERAL ROGUET—FROM KOWNO TO ELBING—TWO CANTINIÈRES—THE ADVENTURES OF A SERGEANT—I FIND PICART AGAIN—THE SLEDGE AND THE JEWS—A SHREW—EYLAU—ARRIVAL AT ELBING.
Wewere only a quarter of a league from the town, when we saw the Cossacks to our left upon the heights, and to our right on the plain; however, they did not dare venture within reach of us. After having marched for some time, I found the horse of an officer of artillery stretched on the ground; it had a schabraque of sheepskin on its back. This was just what I wanted to cover my poor ears, for it would have been impossible for me to go any distance without risking the loss of them. I had in my haversack the scissors belonging to the surgeon's case found on the Cossack I had killed on November 23rd. I tried to set to work to cut some of it away, and make what we called ear-lappets to replace the Rabbi's cap; but having my right hand frozen, and the other benumbed, I could not manage it. I was in despair, when a man belonging to the garrison of Wilna came up. He was stronger than I, and succeeded in cutting the band fastening the schabraque to the horse; then he gave me half of it. Until I couldarrange it better, I put it over my head and continued my way.
I now heard cannon, and then musketry fire; it was the rear-guard leaving the town, with Marshal Ney in command, engaging the Russians. Those who were no longer able to fight ran as fast as they possibly could. I tried to follow them, but my frozen foot and bad boots prevented me; then the colic, which came on repeatedly, and forced me to stop, hindered me, and I found myself always in the rear. I heard a confused sound behind me, and I was hustled by several men of the Rhine Confederation running off as fast as they could. I fell full length in the snow, and immediately several others passed over my body. I raised myself with great difficulty, for I was in great pain; but I was so accustomed to suffering, I said nothing. The rear-guard was not far off—if it passed me I was lost; but the Marshal called a halt, to give the other men still leaving the town time to join us. To hold the enemy in check, the Marshal had with him about 300 men.
In front of me was a man whom I recognised by his cloak as belonging to the regiment. He was walking very much bent, apparently overwhelmed by the weight of a burden he was carrying upon his knapsack and shoulders. Making an effort to get near him, I saw that the burden was a dog, and that the man was an old sergeant named Daubenton.[59]The dog he carried was the regimental dog, though I did not recognise it. I told him how surprised I was at seeing him carrying the dog, when he had trouble to drag himself along; and, without giving him the time to reply, I asked him if the dog was to eat—if so, I should prefer the horse.
'No,' he answered; 'I would rather eat Cossack. But don't you recognise Mouton? His paws are frozen, and now he can't walk any longer.'
'Now I do,' I said; 'but what can you do with him?'
As we walked, Mouton, whose back I had patted with my bandaged right hand, raised his head to look at me, and seemed to recognise me. Daubenton assured me that from seven in the morning, and even before, the Russians had occupied the first houses of the suburb where we had lodged, that all that remained of the Guard had left it at six, and that it was certain that more than 12,000 men of the army, officers and soldiers who were no longer able to march, had remained in the hands of the enemy. He had just missed submitting to the same fate himself through devotion to his dog. He saw very well that he would be obliged to leave him on the way in the snow. The evening of the day when we had arrived at Wilna—at twenty-eight degrees—the poor dog had had his paws frozen, and this morning, seeing that he could walk no longer, he had made up his mind to leave him; but poor Mouton got an idea that he was to be deserted, for he began to howl in such a way that in the end he decided to let him follow. But hardly had he taken six steps along the street when he saw his unfortunate dog fall upon his nose; so he fastened him across his shoulders over his knapsack, and it was in this fashion that he had rejoined Marshal Ney, who with a handful of men formed the rear-guard.
Whilst still marching, we found ourselves stopped by an overturned waggon barring part of the way; it was open, and contained canvas bags, but all these were empty. This waggon had probably left Wilna the preceding evening or in the morning, and had been pillaged by the way, for it had been laden with biscuits and flour. I proposed to Daubenton to halt a moment, for my colichad come on again; he consented willingly, especially as he wished to rid himself of Mouton in one way or another.
We had hardly stopped, when we saw at the back of a ravine a troop of about thirty young Hessians who had formed part of the garrison of Wilna, and had left there at daybreak. They were waiting for Marshal Ney, about thirty paces away from us, and ahead of us to the right. At the same moment we saw on our left another troop of horsemen, about twenty in number. We recognised them at once for Russians; they were Cuirassiers in black cuirasses over white coats, accompanied by several Cossacks scattered here and there. They moved on so as to cut off the Hessians and ourselves, and a vast number of other unfortunate men who had just caught sight of them, and who turned back to rejoin the rear-guard, crying out, 'Beware of the Cossacks!'
The Hessians, under command of two officers who had probably caught sight of the Russians before we did, put themselves in order of defence.
At this moment we saw a Grenadier of the line pass near to us, running to take rank among the Hessians; we prepared to do the same, but Daubenton, hampered by Mouton, wished to put him in the waggon. We had not time, however, for the cavalry came at a gallop alongside the Hessians. There they halted, signing to them to lay down their arms. A musket-shot was the reply; it was that of the French Grenadier, followed by a general discharge from the Hessians.
At this report, we expected to see half the troopers fall, but, to our astonishment, not one did so, and the officer who was in advance, and who ought to have been shot in pieces, seemed to be whole and sound. His horse simply leapt to one side. He turned round again instantly towards his men; they all thundered upon the Hessians, and in lessthan two minutes they were sabred. Several took to flight, but the cavalry pursued them.
At the same time Daubenton, wishing to rid himself of Mouton, called out to me to help him, but three of the men in pursuit of the Hessians passed close by him. So as to defend himself better, Daubenton thought of retiring under the waggon, where I had taken refuge, suffering terribly from colic and cold; but he had not time, for one of the three horsemen was on the point of charging him. Daubenton was fortunate enough to see the man in time, and get ready for him, but not so well as he could wish, for Mouton, barking like a good dog, hampered him in his movements. Meanwhile, although nearly dying of cold, I felt rather better, and had arranged my right hand to make use of my weapon the best way possible, having hardly any strength left, to speak of.
The man wheeled continually round Daubenton, but at a certain distance, fearing a musket-shot. Seeing that neither of us attempted to fire, he no doubt thought that we were without powder, for he advanced upon Daubenton and hit him a blow with his sword, which the latter parried with the barrel of his musket. Instantly the man crossed to the right, and gave him a second blow upon the left shoulder, which struck Mouton on the head. The poor dog howled enough to break one's heart. Although wounded and with frozen paws, he leapt off his master's back to run after the man; but being fastened to the straps of the knapsack, he pulled Daubenton down, and I thought all was over with him.
I dragged myself on my knees about two steps ahead and took aim, but the priming of my gun did not burn. Then the man, shouting savagely, threw himself on me, but I had had time to get under the waggon and present my bayonet at him.
Seeing that he could do nothing to me, he returned to Daubenton, who had not yet been able to rise on account of Mouton, who all the time dragged him sideways, howling and barking after the cavalry. Daubenton was dragged against the shafts of the waggon, so that his enemy on horseback could not get near him. This man faced Daubenton, his sword raised as if to split him in two, appearing all the while to mock at him.
Daubenton, although half dead with cold and hunger, his face thin, pale, and blackened by the bivouac fires, still seemed full of energy; but he looked odd and really comical, as that devil of a dog was barking all the time, and dragging him sideways. His eyes were shining, his mouth foamed with rage at being at the mercy of such an enemy, who in any other circumstances would not have dared stand up one minute before him. To quench his thirst, I saw him fill his hand with snow and carry it to his mouth, and instantly seize his weapon again; now in his turn he threatened his enemy.
By the man's shouts and gestures, one could see that he had no command over himself, and seemed to have drunk a great deal of brandy. We saw the others passing, repassing, and shouting round some men who had not been able to reach the side where the rear-guard would come; we saw them thrown into the snow and trampled under the horses' feet, for almost all who followed were without arms, wounded, or with frozen feet and hands. Others, who were stronger, as well as some Hessians escaped from the first charge, were able to withstand them for a little, but that could not last, either—they must be relieved or captured.
The cavalryman with whom my old comrade was doing business had just passed to the left, when Daubenton shouted out to me: 'Don't be frightened! don't stir! I'llfinish him off.' Scarcely had he said these words, when he fired. He was luckier than I. The Cuirassier was struck by a ball which entered under the right arm first, and passed out again on the left side. He uttered a savage cry, moved convulsively, and at the same moment his sword fell with the arm that held it. Then a stream of blood came from his mouth, his body fell forward over his horse's head, and in this position he remained as if dead.
Hardly was Daubenton rid of his enemy and free from Mouton so as to seize the horse, when we heard behind us a great noise, then cries of 'Forward! Fix bayonets!' I came out of my waggon, looked towards the side from which the cries came, and saw Marshal Ney, musket in hand, running up at the head of a party of the rear-guard. The Russians, on seeing him, took to flight in all directions. Those who rushed to the right on the side of the plain found a large ditch filled with ice and snow, which prevented them crossing. Several flung themselves in it with their horses, others stopped still in the middle of the road, not knowing where to go. The rear-guard seized several horses, and made their riders walk on foot amongst them. Afterwards they were left on the road. What else could one do? One could barely look after one's self.
I shall never forget the Marshal's commanding air at this moment, his splendid attitude towards the enemy, and the confidence with which he inspired the unhappy sick and wounded round him. In this moment he was like one of the heroes of old time. In these last days of this disastrous retreat he was the saviour of the remnant of the army.
All this took place in less than ten minutes. Daubenton had rid himself of Mouton, so as to get hold of thehorse, when a man, emerging from behind a clump of pines, threw the Cuirassier off the horse, seized the animal by the bridle, and made off. Daubenton shouted to him: 'Stop, rascal! That is my horse. I killed the fellow!' But the other escaped with the horse amongst the rabble of men who were hurrying forward. Then Daubenton called out to me: 'Look after Mouton. I am going after the horse; I must have him, or there will be the devil to pay.' The last word was hardly out of his mouth, when more than 4,000 stragglers of all nations came on like a torrent, separating me from him and from Mouton, whom I never saw again.
This seems to be the place for giving a little biography of the regimental dog.
Mouton had been with us since 1808. We found him in Spain, near the Bonaventura, on the banks of a river where the English had cut the bridge. He came with us to Germany. In 1809 he assisted at the Battles of Essling and Wagram; afterwards he returned to Spain in 1810-11. He left with the regiment for Russia; but in Saxony he was lost, or perhaps stolen, for Mouton was a handsome poodle. Ten days after our arrival in Moscow we were immensely surprised at seeing him again. A detachment composed of fifteen men had left Paris some days after our departure to rejoin the regiment, and as they passed through the place where he had disappeared, the dog had recognised the regimental uniform, and followed the detachment.
Whilst marching in the midst of men, women, and even some children, I was constantly looking about for Daubenton, whom I regretted very much; but behind only Marshal Ney and his rear-guard were to be seen, taking up a position on the little eminence where the Hessians had been attacked.
After this adventure I was forced to stop again, as I wassuffering so much from my colic. In front, I could see the Ponari mountain from the foot to the summit. The road about three-fourths up the left slope could be traced by the number of waggons, carrying more than seven millions in gold and silver, as well as other baggage, and carriages drawn by horses whose strength was exhausted, so that they had to be left on the road.
A quarter of an hour after, I arrived at the foot of the mountain, where some had bivouacked during the night. Traces of the fires were still to be seen—several still alight, and around them men warming themselves before attempting the ascent. Here I learnt that the carts which had left Wilna the evening before at midnight, on reaching a defile, had not been able to go further. One of the first waggons had fallen open on turning over, and the money in it had been taken by those standing near. The other carriages, from top to bottom of the mountain, were obliged to halt. Many horses had fallen to rise no more.
While they told me this, we heard the musketry fire of Marshal Ney's rear-guard, and on the left Cossacks were visible, drawn by the sight of booty. They advanced very cautiously, however, waiting till the rear-guard should have passed to reap their harvest safely.
I started off again, but, instead of taking the road of the waggons, rounded the mountain to the right. Here several carts had tried to pass, but all had been overthrown into the ditch at the side. One waggon had a great many trunks still in it. I should have liked to carry one off, but in my feeble state I did not dare to risk it, fearing I might not be able to climb out of the ditch again if I once got down. Fortunately, a man of the hospital corps from the Wilna garrison, seeing my dilemma, was kind enough to go down, and threw me a box, in which Ifound four beautiful shirts of fine linen and some cotton trousers.
Since November 5th I had not changed a shirt, and my shreds and tatters were filled with vermin, so I put the whole into my knapsack, delighted.
A little further on I picked up a band-box containing two superb hats. As it was very light, I put it under my arm; I really don't know why-probably to exchange it for something else if I had the opportunity.
The road I was following turned to the left across some brushwood to rejoin the highway. This road had been beaten out by the first men who at daybreak had crossed the mountain. After half an hour of painful walking, I heard a heavy fusillade, accompanied by loud cries, coming from the side of the waggons. Marshal Ney, seeing that the booty could not be saved, was having it distributed among the men, and at the same time kept the Cossacks off by steady firing.
Over on my side, to the right, I saw some Cossacks advancing steadily. There was no one to check them but some men scattered here and there upon the mountain, trying to gain the road. All at once I was forced to stop: my legs gave way under me. I drank a good mouthful of my brandy and struggled on. I reached at last a point on the mountain not far from the road, and as I was searching for the right direction, the snow crumbled under me, and I sank more than five feet up to the eyes, and was nearly suffocated. It was with great trouble that I dragged myself out, completely exhausted with cold.
A little further on I caught sight of a hut, and seeing some people in it, I stopped there. They were about twenty men belonging to the Guard, all with bags containing five-franc pieces. Several of them, on seeingme, began to call out, 'Who would like 100 francs for a twenty-franc piece in gold?' But finding no one to exchange with them, they concluded by offering some to those who were without any. Just then I cared more for life than for money, so I refused, for I had about 800 francs in gold, and more than 100 francs in five-franc pieces.
I remained in this hut long enough to fasten the sheepskin over my head, so as to keep the cold off my ears, but I had no time to change my shirt. I left, following some musicians carrying money, but who were too heavily laden to go far.
The firing now came nearer, so that we were obliged to double our pace. Those who were laden with money, and could not run, lightened their burden by shaking the five-franc pieces out of their bags, saying that it would have been better to have left them in the waggons, especially as there was plenty of gold to take, but that there had not been time to bury the chests. However, there were many who had sacks of double napoleons.
A little ahead I saw several still coming from the direction of the waggons, carrying bags of money. As they were terribly weak and their fingers frozen, they called to those who had none, to give them a share; but it very often happened that those who had carried some money part of the way, and who wished to share it with the others, had no more to give, as, farther in front, men who had none had forced a share from them. Those poor devils who had been carrying money for so long saw it torn from them, and were lucky if in trying to defend what they had they held their own, for they were always the weakest.
I had gained the road, and, as I was not very cold, I stopped to rest. I saw other men come up, still ladenwith money, and who now and again stayed to fire on the Cossacks. Higher up the rear-guard had halted to allow some men to pass, as well as several sledges, some bearing the wounded, and loaded with as many barrels of money as it was possible for them to carry. This did not keep some men, drawn by the love of plunder, from still remaining behind, and when at bivouac in the evening, I was assured that many had rifled the waggons along with the Cossacks.
I went on slowly and painfully. Presently I saw an officer of the Young Guard coming towards me, very well dressed, and in good health, whom I recognised at once as Prinier, one of my friends, passed as officer eight months before. Surprised to see him going in the opposite direction, I asked him, calling him by his name, where he was bound for. He demanded in his turn who I was. At this unexpected question from a comrade in the same regiment for five years, I could not refrain from tears. He did not know me because I was so changed and wretched. But an instant afterwards: 'Why, my dear fellow, is it you? To think you should be so unlucky!' Then he offered me a bottle which hung from his side, containing wine, saying, 'Take some;' and, as I had only one hand free, the good fellow supported me with his left hand, and with the other poured the wine into my mouth.
I asked him if he had met the remnant of the army. He said no; that as he had been quartered the preceding night in a mill some distance from the road, it was very probable that the column had passed, but he had seen terrible traces of it in some dead bodies lying upon the road. He had only heard yesterday, and in a very vague way, of the disasters that we had experienced. He was on his way to rejoin the army, according to orders.
'But there is no army left.'
'What is that firing?'
'That is the rear-guard, commanded by Marshal Ney.'
Then he replied:
'I shall join the rear-guard.'
He embraced me before leaving, but as he did so he saw that I had a band-box under my arm, and asked what it contained. I told him they were hats: he asked me for them, and I gave them to him with much pleasure. It was exactly what he needed, for he still wore his non-commissioned officer's shako.
The wine he had made me drink had warmed me; I decided on going on to the next bivouac. An hour after leaving Prinier I caught sight of fires belonging to some Chasseurs. I went up in an imploring way. Without looking at me, they said: 'Do as we are doing; go and look for some wood, and make a fire yourself.'
I was expecting this reply—the usual one. There were six of them; their fire was a very poor one. They had no further shelter to protect them against the wind and the snow, should any happen to fall.
I remained a long time standing behind them, sometimes leaning forward and stretching out my hands to get a little warmth. Finally, overcome with sleep, I thought of my bottle of brandy. I offered it to the men; it was accepted, and they made room for me. We emptied the bottle, passing it round, and when we had finished I fell asleep seated on my knapsack, my head in my hands. I slept perhaps two hours, often disturbed by pain and the cold. When I awoke I took advantage of the little fire that was still left to cook some rice in the kettle I had bought of the Jew. I scraped up some snow, and melted it with some rice. I could not manage it with a spoon, as a Chasseur was eating with me, so I turned it out into myshako, and we ate it in this way. Afterwards I resumed my former position, and fell asleep again, the cold this night not being very severe.
December 11th.—When I woke it was still far from daybreak. After tying up my food, I rose to go on; for if I did not wish to die of cold and hunger, like so many others, I must rejoin my comrades. I walked alone till daybreak, stopping sometimes at a fire, where I found dead and dying men. When day came, I met some soldiers of the regiment, who told me they had passed the night with the staff.
A little further on, I saw a man with a sheepskin over his shoulders walking painfully, leaning on his musket. When I got near him, I saw that he was the quarter-master of our company. He uttered a cry of surprise and joy on seeing me, for they had told him I was a prisoner at Wilna. Poor Rossi had both feet frozen, wrapped up in pieces of sheepskin. He told me, that not being able to walk as quickly as the others, he had been separated from the remnant of the regiment, and that our friends were very uneasy about me. Two great tears ran down his cheeks, and he began to weep, saying, 'Poor mother! if you could only see me now! It is all over with me; I shall never see Montauban again' (the place he came from).
I tried to comfort him by pointing out that my situation was still worse than his own. We walked together for part of the day. I was obliged to stop often, owing to my colic.
It might have been noon when I proposed that we should stop at a village that we saw ahead of us. We entered an empty house, and found three unfortunate soldiers, who told us, not being able to go any further, they had resolved to die there. We warned them of thefate that awaited them should they fall into the hands of the Russians. For answer they showed us their feet. Nothing more terrible could be imagined. More than half their toes were missing, and the remainder ready to fall off. The feet were blue in colour, and seemed to be almost mortified. The men belonged to Marshal Ney's corps. Perhaps, when he passed by some time after, he may have saved them.
We stopped long enough to cook a little rice, and we also roasted a little horseflesh to eat later. Then we left, resolving to keep together; but the great crowd of stragglers came up, dragged us with them, and in spite of all our efforts we were separated, and could not find each other again.
I now arrived at a water-mill. There I saw a soldier who, in trying to cross the ice of the little mill-stream, had fallen through it. Although the water was only up to his waist, he could not get out, owing to the pieces of broken ice. Some artillery officers, who had found some ropes in the mill, threw them to him, but he had not strength to catch them; although still living, he was frozen and motionless.
A little further on I heard that the regiment, if it could be still called by that name, was to sleep at Zismorg, still five leagues off. I made up my mind that if I should have to drag myself there upon my knees, I would go; but what trouble it cost me! I fell from exhaustion on the snow, and thought I should rise no more. Happily, since my separation from Rossi the cold had greatly decreased. After superhuman efforts I got to the village; it was none too soon, for I had done all that man could do to escape death.
The first thing I saw on entering was a great fire to the right, against the gable end of a burnt house. Completelyexhausted, I dragged myself there; and great was my surprise on seeing my comrades. When I got up to them I fell almost unconscious.
Grangier recognised me, and hurried with some others of my friends to help me; they laid me on some straw. It was the fourth time Grangier and I had met each other since we left Moscow. M. Césarisse, Lieutenant of the company, who had some brandy, made me take a little; then I was given some horse-broth. It tasted very good, for this time it was salted with salt, while so far we had eaten everything salted with powder.
My colic came on again worse than ever; so I called Grangier, and told him I thought I had been poisoned. On this he melted some snow in the little kettle, and brewed me some of the tea he had brought from Moscow. I drank a great deal, and it did me good.
Poor Rossi arrived in as miserable a state as myself. He was accompanied by Sergeant Bailly, whom he had met a moment after his separation from me. It was Sergeant Bailly with whom I had changed the bank-notes at Wilna, and who had drunk coffee with me at the Jew's. He was as ill as I was. He asked me how I was, and when I told him how ill I had been after taking the coffee, he was sure that they had meant to poison us, or at least make us good for nothing.
I was settling myself as well as I could on the straw near a large fire, when all at once I felt pains in my legs and thighs, so violent that during a part of the night I did nothing but groan. I heard them saying, 'He will not be able to leave to-morrow.' I thought so too, and decided, as many had already done, to make my will. I called my friend Grangier, and told him that I was certain all was over with me. I begged him to undertake the charge of some small articles, to be given to my family if he had thegood fortune to see France again. These articles were a watch, a cross in gold and silver, a little vase in Chinese porcelain. I possess the two last still. I also wished to dispose of all the money that I had, reserving some gold pieces that I meant to hide in the sheepskin wrapped about my foot, hoping that the Russians, when they took me, would not begin searching among my rags.
Grangier, who had listened without interrupting me, now asked if I were in a fever or dreaming. I said that I was in a fever, but I was quite clear-headed. He began to lecture me, reminding me of my courage in worse situations than this.
'Yes,' I said, 'but then I was stronger.'
He assured me that I had said as much at the passage of the Bérézina when I had been quite as ill, and since then I had come eighty leagues. As for the fifteen that remained before reaching Kowno, they would be done in a couple of days; with the help of my friends I should manage them very well. To-morrow they would only walk four leagues.
'So,' he said, 'try to rest, and wrap up those things again. I will only take your kettle, and carry it for you.'
Another said, 'I will take this other case (the surgeon's case), which must worry you.'
Meanwhile, Rossi, who was lying near, remarked: 'My friend, you will not be here alone to-morrow morning; I shall share your fate, for I am quite as bad as you are. The journey to-day has done for me, and I shall not be able to go any further. But when the rear-guard passes by, we may be able to march with it, for we shall have had some extra hours' rest. If we have not enough strength to follow it, we will go to the right. To the first village or the first house that we find, and put ourselves under the protection of the Baron or master; perhapshe will have pity on us until we are better, and we can reach Prussia or Poland. Very likely the Russians will not come further than Kowno.'
I told him that I would do as he wished. M. Césarisse, whom Grangier had just told of my intention, came up to comfort me. He said that the pain I suffered only came from the fatigue of yesterday. He made me lie before the fire, and, as there was plenty of wood, they piled on enough to roast me. This fire did me so much good that the pain gradually left me, and I slept for some hours. Poor Rossi did so too.
In 1830 I was appointed an officer of the staff at Brest. On the day of my arrival, sitting at table with my wife and children at the Hôtel de Provence, a man sat opposite to me, very well dressed, who looked at me a great deal. Every other moment he stopped eating, and, his head resting on his hand, he seemed to think deeply, or to be recalling certain memories. Afterwards he spoke to the landlord of the hotel. My wife, who was beside me, pointed it out to me.
'Yes,' I said, 'that man begins to puzzle me, and if it goes on I shall ask him what it means.'
At that very moment he rose, threw down his napkin, and passed into the office where travellers' names were registered. He re-entered the dining-room, exclaiming aloud, 'It is he—I was not mistaken' (calling me by my name). 'It is indeed my friend.'
I recognised him by his voice, and we were in each other's arms. It was Rossi, whom I had not seen since 1813, seventeen years before. He believed me dead, and I thought the same of him, for I had learnt on my return from prison that he had been wounded under the walls of Paris. This recognition interested all who were present,about twenty in number, and we were asked to relate our adventures during the Russian campaign. This we did willingly, and at midnight we were still at table, drinking champagne to Napoleon's memory. It is hardly surprising that at first I did not recognise my comrade, for I left him delicate, and I found him stout and strong, his hair almost gray. He lived at Montauban, and was now a rich merchant.
When the moment of departure came, I thought no more of remaining behind, but it was impossible to walk alone. Grangier and Leboude held me up under the arms, and others did as much for Rossi. At the end of half an hour's walking I was much better; but all the way I needed the help of one arm, often of two. In this manner we arrived in good time at the little village where we were to sleep; there were very few dwellings to be found, and, although we were the first to arrive, we were obliged to sleep in a yard. By chance we were able to find plenty of straw, which we used to cover us; but, with our usual ill-luck, the straw took fire. Everyone saved himself as best he could; many had their coats burnt. A quarter-master of Vélites, named Couchère, was more unfortunate than the others; the fire caught his cartridge-case, and his whole face was burnt. And as for me, without the help of my comrades I should probably have been roasted, as I could not possibly move by myself. I was taken by the legs and shoulders, and dragged up to the hut, where General Roguet and other officers were quartered. They fled on seeing the flames, thinking that the house itself was on fire. After this misfortune came a high north wind, and, as we were without shelter, we entered the General's house, which consisted of two rooms. We took possession of one, in spite of him; more than half of us were obligedto stand up the whole night, but, still, it was better than staying outside exposed to bad weather. That would have killed three-fourths of us.
December 13th.—Kowno was at least ten leagues off, so General Roguet made us start before daybreak.
A shower of hail had fallen, forming ice upon the road. If, as on the preceding evening, I had not had my friends' help, I should very probably, like so many others, have finished my life's journey on that last day in Russia.
It was hardly dawn when we reached the foot of a mountain which was one sheet of ice. What trouble we had climbing it! We had to squeeze ourselves into groups to obtain mutual support. On this march there was more readiness to help one another than before. Probably it was the hope of arriving at the end of the journey. I remember that, when a man fell, cries were heard, 'Stop! there is a man fallen!' I noticed a sergeant-major of our battalion shout, 'Stop, there! I swear that not one of you shall go on until the two left behind have been picked up and brought on.' It was by his firmness they were saved.
At the top of the mountain it was light enough to see, but the slope was so rapid, and the ice so smooth, that no one dared to venture down. General Roguet, some officers, and several sappers who were walking in front, had fallen. Some picked themselves up, and those who were strong enough went down in a sitting position, guiding themselves with their hands; others who were weaker trusted to Providence—that is to say, they rolled over and over like barrels. I was of this latter number, and I should most likely have thrown myself into a ravine, or been lost in the snow, but for Grangier, who went in front of me, moving backwards and stopping, so that I ran into him. He drove his bayonet into the ice to hold on by, and whenI came up he moved further, sliding and repeating the same process, till I reached the bottom, bruised all over, and my left hand bleeding. The General had ordered a halt to assure himself that everybody had come up—the roll-call had been taken the evening before—and happily no one was missing. It was broad daylight, and we could see that the mountain might have been avoided by turning to the right. The other corps who were marching after us came along this side of it without accident. This climbing had tired me so much that I could only walk very slowly, and, as I did not wish to abuse the kindness of my friends, I begged them to follow the column. One of the company, however, stayed with me, a Piedmontese, by name Faloppa. I had not seen him for several days.
Those who were fortunate enough to keep their health, to have unfrozen feet, and to march at the head of the column, missed seeing all the disasters which I, for instance, sick and crippled, witnessed daily. Those in front could not see the men who fell around them, while we in the rear passed over the long train of dead and dying that each corps left behind it. We had also the disadvantage of being harassed by the enemy at our heels.
Faloppa, the man who had stayed with me, was in no better position. We had been walking together for a quarter of an hour, when he turned towards me, saying: 'Well, sergeant, if we had those little pots of dripping here that you made me throw away in Spain, you would be very glad, and we could make fine soup.' It was not the first time he had made that remark. The episode, comical enough, was this:
One day, after we had made a long expedition in the mountains of Asturias, we were quartered at St. Hiliaume, a little town in Castile, on the sea-coast. I was quartered with my subdivision in a large building forming the rightwing of the Court House.[60]This part of it was very large, and inhabited by an old bachelor, absolutely alone. On arriving at his house we asked him whether we could buy some butter or dripping to make soup, and cook some haricots. He replied that even for gold there was none to be had in the entire town. A moment afterwards the muster was called. I left Faloppa to do the cooking, and commissioned another man to search through the town for some butter or fat, but none was to be had. When we came back, the first thing Faloppa said to us was that the old bachelor was a rascal. 'How is that?' He answered us, 'Look!'
He showed me three gallipots containing some beautiful fat that we saw was goose-dripping. Everyone exclaimed, 'There's your Spanish beggar for you. There's a rascal!' Our cook had made some splendid soup, and had prepared some haricots. We sat down to eat under a great chimney-piece, like the entrance to a house, when suddenly the Spaniard returned, wrapped in his brown mantle, and, seeing us eating, hoped we should enjoy our meal. I asked him why he had not wanted to sell us the dripping. 'No, señor,' he answered, 'I had none. If I had had any, I would have given it to you with pleasure, and for nothing!' Then Faloppa, taking up one of the little pots, showed it to him. 'Then this is not fat, is it, rascal of a Spaniard?' Looking at the little pot, he changed colour, and stood as if thunderstruck. Pressed for a reply, he told us that it certainly was dripping, but themanteca de ladron(thieves' fat). He was the town executioner, and what we had found and made our soup with was the fat of hanged men, which he sold for ointment.
illus
PASSAGE OF THE BÉRÉZINA, NOVEMBER, 1812.
Hardly had he finished, when all the spoons flew about his head. He had barely time to escape; and not one of us, although very hungry, wanted to eat any haricots; the soup was almost all gone. Faloppa only went on eating just the same, saying that the Spaniard had lied. 'And even were it so,' said he, 'the soup is good, and the haricots still better.' So saying, he offered me some to taste, which turned me sick. I went across to a brandy merchant's facing our quarters, and asked him with whom we were quartered. He crossed himself, repeating over and over again: 'Ave, Maria, purissima, sin peccado concebida!' He told me that it was the executioner. For some time I was ill and sick with disgust; but Faloppa, when he left, carried off the remainder of the fat, pretending he would prepare us soup with it again. I was obliged to make him throw it away; and that is why in Russia, when he had nothing to eat, he was always quoting this story.
For half an hour we had not lost sight of the column, showing that we had walked pretty well. I must say that the road happened to be better; but soon afterwards it became rough and as slippery as in the morning. The cold was very keen, and we had already passed some men dying by the way, although clothed in thick furs. Exhaustion, however, was answerable for a good deal. Faloppa fell several times, and if I had not been with him to help him up again, he would have been left behind.
The road now became better; we could see the long train of the column in front of us. We redoubled our efforts to rejoin it, but did not succeed. We came upon a hamlet of five or six houses, of which half were on fire, where we stopped a little while. Several men were gathered round; many seemed quite unable to go on, andseveral horses had dropped, dying, and were struggling on the snow. Faloppa cut a piece from the thigh of one of them, which we cooked on the points of our swords at the fire of the burning houses.
While we were busy with this job, cannonading was heard in the direction from which we had come. I then saw more than 10,000 stragglers spreading in disorder over the width of the road. Behind them marched the rear-guard. I have thought since that Marshal Ney was firing in order to make all these unfortunate creatures believe the Russians were upon us, and so hurry them on to Kowno that same day. It was part of the wreck of the Grand Army.
Our meat was not half cooked before we thought it wiser to decamp as quickly as possible, and not to be submerged in this fresh torrent.
There were still six leagues to walk before reaching Kowno, and we were quite worn out. It might have been about eleven o'clock, when Faloppa said: 'Sergeant, we shall not get there to-day, theruban de queueis too long.[61]We shall never be able to leave this devil's country; it is all over, I shall not see my beautiful Italy again!' Poor fellow! he spoke the truth.
We had been walking about an hour since our last rest, when we came upon several groups of forty or fifty men, more or less composed of officers, non-commissioned officers, and some men, carrying in the midst of them the regimental eagle. These men, miserable though they were, seemed proud to have been so far able to keep and guard this sacred trust. It was evident that in marching they avoided mingling with the large masses that covered the road, so as to keep together in an orderly way.
We walked as long as we were able with these little detachments; we did all we could to follow them, but the artillery and musketry fire began again. The detachment halted at the command of some person; one could never have told by the rags covering him who he might be. Never shall I forget the tone of his command. 'Come, children of France! Another halt! It must never be said that we went faster at the sound of artillery. Right about face!' and instantly the men fell into rank without a word, and turned in the direction of the firing. As for us, having no colours to defend, we continued to drag ourselves along. It was very lucky for us that on this particular day the cold was not so intense, for we fell more than ten times, and if it had been freezing as on the day before, there we should have remained.
After walking a certain time among stragglers like ourselves, we caught sight of a moving line, a column apparently, in very close order, now moving, then halting, again moving on. This seemed as if there must be a defile just there. The road began to narrow to the right on account of a hill through which it had been cut, and on the left was bounded by a large river that I think must have been the Niemen. There the men, while waiting till some waggons passed coming from Wilna, hustled and shoved one another in great confusion. It was a question of who could get over the first. Many climbed down to the ice-covered river, in order to gain the right of the column or the end of the defile. Several who found themselves on the extreme edge were thrown down the banks, which in this place were at least five feet high; some were killed.
When we reached the left of this column, we had to do as those who preceded us—we had to wait. I came upon a sergeant of Vélites named Poumo, belonging to ourregiment, who proposed that I should cross the river with him, telling me that on the other side we should find houses where we could pass the night, and that the next day, being thoroughly rested, we could reach Kowno easily; 'for,' said he, 'it is not more than two leagues further.' I consented to his proposal, especially as I had no strength to go on, and then there was the hope of spending a night in a house with a fire! I told Faloppa to follow us. Poumo went down first. I followed him, sliding on my back; but, after taking a few steps across the snow which covered the river in great heaps, I saw the impossibility of going further, so I signed to Faloppa, who had not got down, to stop, for I had just discovered that beneath the snow was nothing but a mass of jagged ice, with holes in between. This was probably the result of a thaw, followed by a hard frost.
In the meantime Poumo, who was walking some steps ahead of me, stopped; but, seeing that I was not following, he still got across himself with three old Grenadiers of the Guard. It was only, however, with great labour that they reached the other bank.
I got nearer to Faloppa, from whom I was separated only by the height of the bank, to tell him to follow the left of the column; that, as I was down on the ice, I was going to follow it up to the end of the defile, and that I would wait for him there. Then I followed the mass of men, slowly advancing, then stopping, shouting and swearing, for those on the bank were afraid of falling to the bottom.
I had already gone three-fourths of the length of the defile when I saw that the river turned abruptly to the left, while the road, widening again, went straight on. I had to return almost to the middle of the pass, to the spot where the bank seemed less steep; but weak as Iwas, and having only one hand of any use, I tried in vain to climb it.
I mounted on an ice-heap, so that without stooping very much some helping hand could be given me. I supported myself with my left hand on my musket, and held out the other to those who, within reach of me, could have pulled me up by a slight effort. But I asked in vain. No one answered me; they had not even the appearance of paying any attention to what I was saying. At last God had pity on me again. Just when the crowd of men had halted, I saw an old trooper of the Imperial Guard on foot, his moustaches and beard covered with icicles, and wrapped in a great white cloak. I spoke to him still in the same tone:
'Comrade, I beg of you, as, like me, you're in the Imperial Guard, give me a hand, and you will save my life.'
'How do you think I am to give you a hand?' he said, 'I have none.' At this answer I nearly fell off the ice-heap. 'However,' he continued, 'if you can take hold of my cloak, I will try to pull you up.'
Then he stooped. I grasped the cloak; I even held it with my teeth, and scrambled on to the road. Happily, at this moment there was no pressing forward, or I might have been trampled under foot without perhaps ever rising again. When I was really safe, the old Grenadier told me to keep a firm hold of him, which I did, but with much difficulty, as the effort which I had just made had greatly weakened me.
Shortly afterwards they began to move forward. We passed by three fallen horses, the waggon having overturned into the river. This was what had caused the delay in the march. At last we reached a point where the pass widened, and where we could walk more easily.
Just then Faloppa, whom I had left at the entrance of the pass, came up weeping and swearing in Italian, saying that he would never be able to go further. The old trooper asked me who this creature was who cried like a woman. I told him he was abarbet, a Piedmontese.
'He will never see the marmots and bears of his native mountains again,' he answered.
I encouraged poor Faloppa to keep on; I gave him my arm, and we continued to follow the column.
It might have been about five o'clock; we had still more than two leagues to go before reaching Kowno. The old Grenadier related how his fingers had frozen before reaching Smolensk. After suffering frightful distress up to the passage of the Bérézina, he had found a house on arriving at Ziembin, where he had spent the night. During that night all his fingers fell off one after the other, but since then he had not suffered nearly so much. His comrade, who had never left him before, had gone off to the mountain near Wilna tomonter à la roue,[62]and since that day he had not seen him.
After going on for another half-hour, we reached a little village, where we stopped in one of the last houses to rest and warm ourselves a little; but we could not find room, for the house was crammed with men stretched out on the evil-smelling straw, and shrieking and swearing whenever one happened to touch them. Nearly all their hands and feet were frozen. We were obliged to be contented with a stable, where we came upon a trooper of the Guard of the same regiment and squadron as our old Grenadier. He still had his horse, and, hoping to find a hospital at Kowno, undertook the charge of his comrade.
We had still a league and a half to walk, and the cold had considerably increased. Fearing that it would grow still colder, I told Faloppa that he must go; but the poor devil, who had laid himself down on the manure-heap, could not get up. It was only by begging and swearing, with the help of the trooper, I succeeded in getting him on his legs and pushing him outside the stable. On the road I gave him my arm. When he was rather warm, he walked fairly well, but without speaking, for about a league.
During the time we had been resting in the village the great part of the stragglers after the army had passed us; there was no one to be seen either in front or behind but miserable creatures like ourselves—in fact, those whose strength was entirely gone. Several were stretched on the snow—a sign of their approaching end.
Faloppa, whom till then I had been continually coaxing on by saying, 'Here we are. Just a little more courage,' sank upon his knees, then on his hands. I thought he was dead, and fell at his side, overwhelmed with fatigue. The cold, which began to go through me, forced me to make an effort to rise again, or, to tell the truth, it was a fit of rage, for I got upon my knees swearing. Then, seizing Faloppa by the hair, I made him sit up; but he looked at me stupefied. Seeing that he was not dead, I said to him:
'Courage, my friend. We are not far from Kowno, for I can see the convent[63]on our left. Don't you see it, too?'
'No, sergeant,' he answered; 'I see nothing but the snow which is turning round me. Where are we?'
I told him we were near a place where we could sleep and find bread and brandy.
At this instant chance brought five peasants near us who were crossing the same road. I proposed to two of these men, in consideration of a five-franc piece each, that they should lead Faloppa as far as Kowno; but under pretext that it was late, and that they were cold, they made some difficulties. I guessed that it was the fear of not being paid (for they spoke German). I took two five-franc pieces from my bag and gave them one, promising them the other on our arrival. They were satisfied. I then told three others to go back to where a foot soldier was lying whom we had passed, and I said they would have some money for leading him, and they went off at once.
The two peasants had lifted Faloppa, but the poor devil could not stand. They seemed at a loss what to do. Then I showed them how to carry him on a musket, each supporting him with an arm behind. But we did not get far this way. They decided to take him on their backs in turn, while the other carried his knapsack and gun, and took me under his arm, for I could hardly drag my legs along. During the distance to the town, which was not more than half a league, we were obliged to stop five or six times to rest and change Faloppa from one back to another. If we had had to walk a quarter of an hour longer, we should never have got there.
Meanwhile the bulk of stragglers had passed us, but many others, as well as the rear-guard, were still behind us. We heard at intervals the sound of artillery, which seemed to us like the expiring sigh of our army. At last we reached Kowno by a road our peasants knew of, and that the column had not taken. The first place we saw was a stable. We went in, and the peasants set us down; but before giving them the last five-franc piece, I implored them to find us a little wood and straw. They brought some of both, and even made us a fire, for it was impossible for me to stir; and as for Faloppa, I looked upon him as dead. He was seated in the angle of the wall, saying nothing, but every now and then making faces, and lifting his hands to his mouth, as if to eat. The fire burning before him seemed to restore him a little. I at last paid my peasants. Before leaving us they brought us still more wood, and made me understand they would come back. Trusting to their promises, I gave them five francs, begging them to bring me some bread, some brandy, or anything else. They promised to do so, but never returned.
While we were in the stable, terrible things were happening in the town. The remnant of the corps arriving in front of us on the preceding evening, not being able to find lodgings, bivouacked in the street. They pillaged the flour and brandy stores. Many were intoxicated, and fell asleep on the snow, to wake no more. The following day I was told that more than fifteen hundred had died in this way.
After the departure of the peasants, five men, two of whom belonged to our regiment, came to find a place in the stable; but as they had met soldiers returning from the town who told them that flour and brandy were to be had there, two went off to try and get some. They left their arms and knapsacks, but did not return. To crown my misfortune, I had nothing to cook any rice in, for Grangier had my kettle. Not one of the three men remaining with me had anything we could make use of, and not one would stir to go and look for a pot.
Meanwhile the roar of the distant artillery and the howling of the wind were mingled with the cries of men dying on the snow. Although the cold on this day was not excessive, a large number of men perished from it.It was the last effort, and of those who had reached this point, not half had seen Moscow; they were the garrisons of Smolensk, of Orcha, of Wilna, as well as the remnant of the main army of Generals Victor and Oudinot, and of General Loison's division, which we had met dying of cold before reaching Wilna.
The men who were with me in the stable lay down around the fire. To keep myself alive, I ate a piece of the half-cooked horseflesh; it was the last before leaving this country of misfortune.
Afterwards I tried to sleep, but I lay awake a long time in great pain. However, sleep overcame me in its turn, and I dozed I do not know for how long. When I awoke I saw that the three soldiers who had arrived after us were preparing to go, and yet it was still far from daybreak. I asked them the reason. They told me they were going to instal themselves in a house they had discovered where there was some straw and a well-heated stove. The house was occupied by a man, two women, and four soldiers of the Kowno garrison.
I immediately set about following them, but I could not leave Faloppa. Looking towards the place where I had left him, I was astonished at not seeing him there. The soldiers told me that for more than an hour he had done nothing but prowl about the stable on all fours, howling like a bear. Our fire was low, and I had some trouble in finding him. At last I did so, and to see him better I lighted a piece of resinous wood.
When I went near him he began to laugh, growling like a bear, running first after one of us, and then the other, and all the time upon his hands and knees. Sometimes he spoke, but in Italian. I knew that he thought he was in his own country in the midst of the mountains, playing with the friends of his childhood; now and again he calledfor his father and mother; in short, poor Faloppa had gone mad.
As I had to leave him for a time to go and see the new lodging, I took care that during my absence nothing should happen to him. We put out the fire and shut the door. On reaching our new quarters, we found two of the men busily eating soup. They did not seem to have suffered much, and, indeed, since September they had been at Kowno.
Before throwing myself on the straw, I asked the peasant if he would come with me to fetch a sick man, that I would give him five francs, at the same time showing him the piece. The peasant had not yet replied, when the German soldiers proposed that we should give them the preference.
'We will go for nothing,' said one of the other soldiers.
'And give him some soup as well,' said another.
I showed my gratitude by saying that one could easily see that they were Frenchmen. They took a wooden chair on which to carry the sick man, and we set out, but as I could only walk with difficulty, they gave me an arm. I told them of Faloppa's sad plight if he were left to the mercy of the Russians.
'What, Russians?' said one of the soldiers.
'Certainly,' I said; 'Russian Cossacks will be here perhaps in a few hours!'
These poor soldiers thought that it was only cold and wretchedness we had brought with us.
On entering the stable we found the poor devil of a Piedmontese lying his full length behind the door. He was placed upon the chair, and in this way was carried to the new lodging. When he was laid near the stove on some good straw, he began to mutter disconnected words. I went near him to listen; he was no longer recognisable.His face was all over blood, but it was the blood from his hands that he had bitten or tried to eat; his mouth, too, was filled with straw and earth. The two women had pity on him, bathed his face with water and vinegar, and the German soldiers, ashamed to have done nothing, undressed him. A shirt was found in his knapsack, which we put on him instead of the ragged one he wore; then they offered him something to drink: he could not swallow, and every now and again clenched his teeth fast together. Afterwards he gathered up the straw with his hands, as if he would put it over him. One of the women said it was a sign of death. I was very sorry for it, as we had reached the limit of our suffering. I had done all I could to save him, just as he would have done for me, for he had been five years in the company, and would have died for me. He proved it on more than one occasion, especially in Spain. The gentle warmth of the room made me more comfortable than I could have thought possible. I felt no more pain, and I slept for two or three hours, a thing that had not happened since my departure from Moscow.
I was awakened by one of the soldiers, who said: 'Sergeant, I think that everybody is going, for there is a great noise outside. We shall have to muster in the square, according to the orders we received yesterday. As for your soldier,' he added, 'you must think of him no more; he is done for.'
I raised myself to see; the two women were at his side. The youngest handed me a leather purse containing money, saying that it had fallen from one of the pockets of the overcoat. There might have been about twenty-five to thirty francs in Prussian pieces, and some other money. I gave it all to the two women, telling them to look after the sick man till his last moment, which could not be faroff, for he scarcely breathed. They promised me not to abandon him.
The noise in the street went on increasing. It was already day, but in spite of that we could not see much, for the little squares of glass were dimmed with ice, and the sky, covered with thick clouds, foretold a great deal of snow still to come.
We were ready to go out, when all at once we heard the sound of cannon from the direction of Wilna, and quite close to us. The discharge of musketry mingled with it, and the cries and oaths of men. We heard the falling of individual blows. We at once thought that the Russians were in the town, and that fighting was going on; we seized our arms. The two German soldiers, not used to this sort of music, were at a loss. However, they came and ranged themselves at our side. We had the muskets belonging to the two men who had left the evening before, and who had not returned, and Faloppa's also. They were all loaded; we had plenty of powder. One of the German soldiers had a bottle of brandy, which he had not so far mentioned; but thinking that he might want something of us, he offered it. It did us good. The other German gave me a piece of bread.
One of them said to me, 'Sergeant, suppose we put one of these guns into the hands of that peasant there who is trembling beside the stove? Do you not think he would be able to bring down his man?'
'No doubt,' I said.
'Come here, peasant,' said the soldier.
The poor devil, not knowing what was wanted of him, allowed himself to be led forward. He was offered a musket. He looked at it, like an imbecile, without taking it. It was placed upon his shoulder; he asked what he was to do with it. I told him it was to kill the Cossackswith. At that word he let his weapon fall. It was picked up by a soldier, who forcibly made him take hold of it, threatening if he did not fire upon the Cossacks to run a bayonet through his body. The peasant made us understand that he would be recognised by the Russians as being a peasant, and that they would kill him. During this colloquy, other cries were heard from the other extremity of the room; it was the two women weeping. Faloppa had just breathed his last.
The soldiers took the coat of the dead man, and forced the peasant to wrap himself in it. In less than two minutes he was completely equipped, for a sword and a cartridge-case were hung on him, and a cap put on his head, with the result that he could not have recognised himself.
This scene took place while the two women were making lamentations over the dead (probably on account of the money I had given them). They were therefore not aware of the transformation of their man.
The noise we had been hearing for the last few moments increased tremendously. I thought I could distinguish the voice of General Roguet; he indeed it was who was swearing and dealing blows to everyone indiscriminately, officers and non-commissioned officers as well as privates, to make them set out. He entered the houses, and made the officers search them to be sure no men were left in them. He did right, and it is perhaps the first good service I ever saw him render a soldier. Certainly this distribution of blows came easier to him than the distribution of bread and wine which he had made in Spain.
I caught sight of a foot soldier who had propped himself against a window, and was fixing his bayonet to the end of his musket. I asked him if the Russians were in the town.
'No, no; not at all.... Don't you see it is that brute of a General Roguet striking at everybody with his baton? But just let him come here; I'm waiting for him....'
We had not yet left the house, when I saw Adjutant-Major Roustan come to a halt in front of the door. Recognising me, he said: 'Well, what are you doing there? Out with you! No one is to remain within a house, no matter of what regiment, for I have orders to strike down any and everybody.'
We came out, but the peasant, whom we had forgotten, naturally remained in his own house, and closed the door. The Adjutant-Major, who saw the movement, and thought it was a soldier wanting to hide himself, opened it again in his turn, entered the house, and ordered the new soldier to get out, or he would be knocked down. The peasant looked at him without replying. The Adjutant-Major seized the man by the belt, and thrust him into the midst of us. The poor devil now tried to struggle, and to explain in his own language. He was not listened to; the Adjutant-Major, simply thinking it was because he had not given him the time to bring away his knapsack and gun, re-entered the house, took them both, and brought them to him. In the house he saw the dead man and two women weeping; so, coming out, he said aloud: 'This rascal here is not so stupid as he looks; he wanted to stay in the house in order to console the widow. He looks like a German. Of what company is he? I don't remember having seen him.'
No one paid much attention to what the Adjutant was saying; each one had enough to do to look after himself. The wife, who had heard her husband's voice, had run to the door where we were still standing. The man, on seeing her, began to speak, but could not make her recognise him. There he was amongst us, not able to stir;she never imagined that a Lithuanian, the Emperor of Russia's subject, had the honour of being a French soldier of the Imperial Guard, marching off, not to glory, but to misery. The whole affair took less than ten minutes. I have thought since that the poor devil must have felt pretty miserable, penned up there in the midst of us.
We set off, but very slowly. We were in an alley, where were several men who had died in the night from drinking brandy, and being afterwards seized by the cold; the greater number, however, were to be found in the town, which I did not enter.
Meanwhile we reached the place where there are two ways leading to the bridge over the Niemen. We now walked more easily, and in a few minutes we were on the banks of the stream. There we saw that several thousand men were already in front of us, squeezing and pushing to get across. As the bridge was narrow, a large number climbed down on to the ice-covered river, which was not strong enough to bear. It consisted merely of pieces of ice that had been thawed and frozen over again. At the risk of being drowned or hurt, everyone tried to get across as quickly as possible, thinking that once on the further side we would be safe. We found out later how greatly we were deceived.
While waiting till we could pass, Colonel Bodelin, who commanded our regiment, ordered the officers to prevent anyone crossing the bridge by himself. We were now about sixty men, or thereabouts, the remnant of 2,000, all grouped around the Colonel. He looked sadly on the remains of his fine regiment, probably drawing a contrast in his own mind. Five months before we had passed over this same bridge with the whole great and brilliant army, and now it was almost annihilated! To encourage us he made us a speech; I am afraid very few listened.
'Come, my men! I will not tell you to be brave—I know how much courage you have. During the three years I have been with you you have given proofs of it under all circumstances, and particularly during this terrible campaign, in battles and all the privations you have had to undergo. But, remember, the more distress and danger, the more glory and honour, and the greater the reward for those who have had the endurance to go through with it.'
Then he asked how many were present. I seized this opportunity to tell M. Césarisse that Faloppa had died that morning. He asked me if I was certain of it, and I answered that I had seen him die, and that Adjutant-Major Roustan himself had seen him.
'Who?—I?' responded the Adjutant-Major. 'Where?'
'In the house you told me to come out of, and which you entered to bring out another person.'
'True,' said he, 'I saw a dead man upon the straw, but it was the master of the house, for the woman was crying over him.'
I told him that the one he had turned into the street was the real husband, and the man on the straw was Faloppa. We looked for the peasant in our ranks, but he had disappeared.
While we were resting on the banks of the Niemen, those who were in front of us had crossed over the bridge, or over the ice. Now we advanced, but when we had got across we could not mount the bank by the road, which was blocked by waggons. Order was now at an end. Everyone went as he pleased. Several of my friends got me to follow them, and we went to the left. When we were about thirty paces from the bridge we began to climb up on to the road. I walked behind Grangier, whom I had fortunately found again, and who looked after memuch better than after himself. He beat out a passage through the snow in front of me, shouting out in his Auvergne dialect, 'Come along,petiot' (little 'un), 'follow me.' But thepetiotcould not drag one leg after another.