I had never till now thought of looking in poor Gros-Jean's knapsack, which he had given me at the Bérézina bridge. Now, as I felt certain he could not return, I opened it before two men of our company who were with me, and were, moreover, in his squadron. I found nothing of any importance, except a handkerchief containing oatmeal mixed with rye. One of the men happening to have a saucepan lid, we cooked the meal. I also found an old pair of shoes, but there was not a shirt, of which I was in great need; the rest was quite useless to me.
There was, fortunately, a great deal of wood about, so we made a large fire. The cold was endurable while the night lasted, but in the morning (the 3rd) a north wind got up, bringing with it twenty degrees of frost. We were forced to begin our march, as it was impossible to remain still. We started after eating some horseflesh, just following in the steps of those who walked before us, who knew no more than we did where they were, or in what direction they were going. The sun shone brilliantly, and the cold decreased a little; so we made good progress, stopping every now and then at houses with deserted bivouac fires. As far as I can remember, we slept in a posting-station.
The sun which we had enjoyed the day before was the forerunner of a terrible frost. I cannot write of this day, for I truly do not know how I got through it. When my comrades spoke to me, I answered as if I were mad. The cold was intolerable. Many took the first road they came to, in the hope of finding houses of some kind as shelter. We lost our way at last in following some Poles, who were going to Varsovia. One of them who spoke French assured me that we were more than a league from the road to Wilna. We tried to retrace our steps, and we lost ourselves again. We met three officers, followed by more than a hundred unfortunate men from different corps and of different nations, half dead with cold and want. When they heard from us that they were lost, many of them cried like children.
We were now near a pine-wood, so we decided to bivouac there with the men we had met. They had a horse, which we killed and divided amongst us. Two fires were made, and everyone cooked his meat at the point of his sword or a stick. When we had finished our meal, we gathered round the fires, and arranged that a quarter of the number should keep watch, as we feared we might be taken by the Russians, who were following the army on both sides of the road. An hour later the snow began to fall, and a high wind got up, driving us under the shelters we had made. The wind grew furious, driving the snow into the shelters, and entirely preventing us from sleeping, though we wanted it badly enough. I slept, however, seated on my knapsack, with my fur-lined collar on my head to keep off the snow. How many times during this miserable night I longed for my bearskin coat!
I did not sleep long, as a violent gust of wind carried away the shelter. I and my two men were forced to walk about to keep ourselves from freezing. When the dawn came at last, we set out on our march, leaving seven men behind in the bivouac, three of whom were already dead, and four unconscious.
At about eight o'clock we reached the high road, and after countless difficulties we arrived at Molodetschno at three in the afternoon, amid a rabble of men of all corps, especially of the army of Italy. The Emperor had slept here. We tried to find shelter for the night in some barn or stable, but found we were too late. We had to be content with a half-burnt house with no roof, and three-quarters filled with men already; but we considered ourselves lucky in getting any kind of shelter against the fearful cold, which went on increasing until we got to Wilna.
I heard later that it was from this place that the Emperor despatched his twenty-ninth bulletin, which caused such a sensation in France, announcing the destruction of our army. It was broad daylight when we started on the 5th. Mechanically we followed 10,000 men in front of us, marching in confusion, without knowing where they went. We crossed several marshes, where we should have all probably sunk and perished, but for the severe frost. Those who lagged behind were in no danger of losing their way, for the numbers of fallen men on the road served as guides. We arrived the next day at Brenitza. The Emperor had slept there, and had already left. This day we were more fortunate. I was able to buy a little flour, and we made some hasty-pudding; but we had not the luck to find a roofless house again, and were obliged to spend the night in the street. It was so bitterly cold that we got no sleep. The next morning we set off for Smorgony. The road was full of officers of different corps, and the remnants of the Doomed Squadron and Battalion, wrapped in worn-out furs, and half-burnt garments. Some had not even these, having, no doubt, parted with them for their friends. Many of them walked leaning on sticks, their beards and hair a mass of ice; others, no longer able to walk, looked vainly at the miserable men passing along the road, trying to find some part of the regiments they had commanded a fortnight before, and get help or an arm to lean on. It was all over, I fear, with those who could not walk.
The roads were like battlefields, there were so many dead bodies; but as the snow fell all the time, the horror of the sight was softened. We had lost all sense of pity, besides; we were insensible even to our own sufferings, let alone those of others. The men who fell imploring help were not listened to. Thus we arrived at Smorgony, on the 6th. On entering the town, we heard that the Emperor had left the evening before, at ten o'clock, for France, leaving the command of the army to King Murat. Many of the foreigners took advantage of this circumstance to blame the Emperor, but the step he took was a perfectly natural one, as, owing to Malet's conspiracy, his presence was necessary in France, not only for the administration, but to organize a new army. Amongst the numbers of dying men constantly arriving were others who were well dressed and vigorous, evidently foreigners, and these all exclaimed loudly at the Emperor's conduct. I have often thought since that these men were agents from England, come to create disaffection in the army.
In the crowd I lost one of the men who had been with me, but I had no time to look for him, I was so afraid of losing shelter for the night. Seeing an officer from Baden, who belonged to the garrison of the town, I followed him with my other man. He went to a Jew's house where he was quartered, and, seeing us after him, made no objection to our entrance. We sat down near a warm stove. One must go through the misery and suffering we had experienced to understand the delight of being in a warm house and having the prospect of a good night.
In the same room there was a young officer on the staff, ill with fever and lying on a wretched sofa. He told me that he had been ill ever since Orcha, and as he could go no farther, there was probably an end of him, as he would certainly be taken by the Russians. 'God knows,' he said, 'what will come of it, and what my poor mother will say when she learns!'