Those who went through this lamentable but glorious campaign proved, as the Emperor said, that they must have been made of iron to bear so many privations and so much misery; this was surely the very greatest test to which men were ever exposed.
If I have omitted anything, such as a date or the name of a place, which I think unlikely, I owe it to myself to say I have added nothing.
Several witnesses to what I have written, who were in the same regiment with me, and some in the same company, are still living. I will quote some in particular:
M. Césarisse, Grenadier-Vélite, now Field-Marshal in the service of the King of Holland, a native of St. Nicolas in Brabant. He was Lieutenant in the same company in which I was then sergeant.
Rossi, Quarter-master in the same company, a native of Montauban, and whom I had the pleasure of meeting again at Brest in 1830. We had not seen each other for sixteen years.
Vachain,[73] then a Lieutenant in the same battalion, now living at Auzin (Nord). I met him again after an interval of twenty years.
Leboude, then Sergeant-Major, now Lieutenant-General in Belgium, belonged also to the same battalion.
Grangier, Sergeant, who came from Puy-de-Dôme in Auvergne. He was my intimate friend. On more than one occasion he saved my life. His constitution was weak, his courage equal to any trial. He died of cholera in 1832.
Pierson, also Sergeant-Vélite, now Captain on the staff at Angers.[74] He was very ugly, but a good fellow, as were all the Vélites. There never was a face like his; he was so different from everyone else. One need only set eyes on him once to remember him. In this connection I will relate a fact that bears me out in what I have been saying.
At the beginning of this campaign, when we were at Wilna, the capital of Lithuania, Pierson was one day mounting guard at the works. It was July 4th, and big ovens were being constructed for the baking of bread for the army. The Emperor came to see how the work was getting on. Pierson thought he would take advantage of the occasion to beg for a decoration, and, going up to His Majesty, he made his request. 'Very good,' answered the Emperor, 'after the first battle!' After that came the siege of Smolensk, the great battle of the Moskowa, as well as several others during the retreat. But during the disastrous retreat no opportunity arrived of reminding the Emperor of his promise. It was not till March 16th, 1813, some days after our return to Paris, at Malmaison, where a review was being held—the same day I was made Lieutenant—that Pierson was able to remind the Emperor of the promise he had made him. Seeing him approaching, the Emperor asked him what he wanted. 'Sire,' he replied, 'I want the cross your Majesty promised me.' 'True,' answered the Emperor, smiling, 'at the works at Wilna!' It was ten months since the promise had been given. The man had certainly an unforgettable face, but what a memory the Emperor had!