On the 25th I and several friends explored the ruins of the town. We saw much that we had not seen before. Everywhere we met Russian peasants—women dirty and repulsive, some of them Jews, mixing helter-skelter with soldiers, and searching in cellars for things which might have escaped the fire. Besides wine and sugar, they were loaded with shawls, cashmeres, magnificent Siberian furs, stuffs brocaded with silk, gold and silver, and several with silver plate and other precious objects. There were Jews there, too, with their wives and daughters, making all kinds of offers to our men for the possession of our things.
On the evening of the same day a Greek church opposite to us was set on fire, close to the place where Marshal Mortier was quartered. We could not extinguish the fire, in spite of all our efforts, and this church, which was in beautiful preservation, was reduced in an incredibly short time to ashes. Many unfortunate people had taken refuge there with the few things remaining to them. This made the circumstance much worse.
On the 26th I was on guard over the Emperor's carriages in a coach-house at the farther end of the town. Opposite were some large barracks saved from the fire, where part of our army was quartered. To get there I had to traverse more than a league of ruins on the left bank of the Moskowa, only seeing here and there a few rafters of the churches left. Everything else was reduced to ashes. On the right bank a few pretty country-houses were still left, only partially burnt. Close to where I placed my guard there was a house which had quite escaped the flames, and out of curiosity I went to see it. I met by chance there a man who spoke French very well, who told me he came from Strasbourg, and had been led by fate to Moscow only a few days before us. He also said that he was a wine-merchant dealing in Rhine wines and sweet champagne, and that by strokes of bad luck he had lost more than a million—partly on account of wine destroyed in shops by the fire, and partly by all we had drunk and were still drinking. He had not even a piece of bread to eat, so I asked him to come and share my rice soup; he accepted gratefully.
The Emperor issued orders for a thorough organization in Moscow, in preparation for remaining there for the winter while waiting for peace. The first steps taken were for hospitals for the wounded, the Russians being treated like ourselves. The stores of provisions scattered through the town were concentrated as much as possible. Several churches which had escaped the fire were reopened for worship. Near our quarters was a Catholic church, where an emigrant French priest said Mass. A theatre was even opened, where French and Italian actors played comedies—at least, so I was told; but whether this was true or not, I know they were paid in advance for six months, in order to convince the Russians that we were going to remain for the winter.
On the 27th I was agreeably surprised to meet two of my fellow-townsmen coming to see me. These were Flament, from Peruwelz, vélite in the Dragoon Guards, and Mellé, a dragoon from the same regiment, from Condé. They were very welcome, for that day we felt merry, so we invited them to dine and spend the evening with us. In the men's various foraging expeditions, they found a quantity of men's and women's costumes of all nations, even French dresses of the time of Louis XVI., all of most beautiful materials. So this evening, after dinner, we decided to have a ball and wear all these dresses.
But I must not forget to say that Flament had told us a sad piece of news—the loss of the brave Lieutenant-Colonel Martod, who commanded the regiment. On reconnoitring in the outskirts of Moscow two days before the 25th, they had fallen into an ambuscade, and were attacked by 3,000 men, both cavalry and infantry. Colonel Martod was mortally wounded; a Captain and the Adjutant-Major were made prisoners after fighting desperately. Two days after we heard that the Colonel was dead.
Now I must return to our ball—a real carnival, as we were all disguised. First of all we dressed up the Russian women as French Marquises; as they knew nothing of the business, Flament and I superintended their toilette. Our two Russian tailors were dressed as Chinese, I as a Russian boyar, Flament as a Marquis—each of us in different costume, even our cantinière, Mother Dubois, who wore a beautiful Russian national dress. As we had no wigs for our Marquises, the regimental perruquier dressed their hair. For grease he used suet, and flour for powder. They looked splendid, and when everyone was ready we began to dance. I forgot to say that during all this time we drank a great deal of punch dealt out to us by Mellé, the old dragoon. Our Marquises and the cantinière, although they could stand a good deal, were beginning to feel their heads swim in consequence of the large quantity they had swallowed.
For music, we had a flute played by a sergeant-major, accompanied by the drum to keep time. We began with the air:
'On va leur percer les flancs
Ram, ram, ram, tam plan;
Tire-lire, ram plan.'
Just as the music struck up, however, and Mother Dubois advanced with our Quarter-master, our Marquises, excited no doubt by the music, began to jump like Tartars, flying from right to left, swinging their arms and legs, falling backwards, getting up, only to fall again. They seemed to be possessed by the devil. There would have been nothing so very extraordinary had they worn their Russian clothes, but to see two French Marquises jump about like lunatics made us nearly die with laughing, and the flute-player was obliged to stop playing, the drum filling up the pauses by sounding the attack. The Marquises began again with redoubled energy, until, exhausted, they sank on the floor. We lifted them up and applauded them, and then we went on drinking and dancing until four o'clock in the morning.