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Memoirs of Sergeant Bourgogne

1812-1813

Compiled from the Original MS. by Paul Cottin

ILLUSTRATED

New York

Doubleday & McClure Company

1899

Copyright 1899, by
DOUBLEDAY & McCLURE CO.

SERGEANT BOURGOGNE.
(From a portrait made in 1830.)

[PREFACE]

Adrien Jean Baptiste François Bourgogne was the son of a cloth-merchant of Condé-sur-Escaut (Nord). He reached his twentieth year on November 12th, 1805, a time when military glory was the one dream of youth. To make this dream real, his father procured his admission into a corps of the Vélites of the Guard, where a fixed income was a necessary qualification.

The Vélites were originally Roman soldiers lightly armed, for skirmishing with the enemy (velitare). In the year XII. when the Revolution was at an end, two corps of Vélites, consisting of 800 men each, were attached to the foot Grenadiers, and to the mounted Grenadiers of the Consul's Guard.

In times of peace each cavalry regiment had attached to it a squadron of Vélites made up of troops of 125 men each, and each infantry regiment a battalion of two companies of 150 Vélites each. The uniform worn by the Vélites was always that of the corps into which they were drafted.

The Vélites were trained first at Saint Germain-en-Laye, then at Écouen and at Fontainebleau. Bourgogne attended the writing, arithmetic, drawing, and gymnastic classes which were meant to complete the military education of these future officers; for, after a few years, the more efficient of the Vélites were promoted to the rank of Sub-Lieutenant.

After a few months, Bourgogne and his comrades were among the troops required for the campaign of 1806 in Poland, where Bourgogne became corporal. Two years later he took part in the Battle of Essling, where he was twice wounded.[1] From 1809 to 1811 he fought in Austria, Spain, and Portugal. In 1812 he was at Wilna, where the Emperor re-assembled his Guard before marching against the Russians. Bourgogne was now sergeant. Already he had travelled a great deal. He had seen something of most countries, and he had taken note of what he saw wherever he had been.

How immense would be the value to the intimate history of the army under the First Empire, had he but left behind really complete memoirs, as foreshadowed in one passage of his book![2] The remarkable fragment or portion now issued raises a great expectation of the completion.

M. de Ségur's account of the Russian campaign needs no eulogy. In one respect it is lacking. It has not, and could not have, the personal accent of the experience that has been lived. M. de Ségur was on the staff, and had not to endure such sufferings as the private soldiers and the company officers—the sufferings which we now want to know in their minutest details. They make real the immense interest of Bourgogne's memoirs—for he was not only a keen observer, he was a man who could see and put what he saw in a telling way; he ranks with the Captain Coignet revived for us by Loredan Larchey. His notes are classics in their kind, and have set the example of a new sort of military memoirs, that of the simple and obscure, who come from the people and represent them in the ordinary man. An accurate rendering of their impressions is likely to be valuable and interesting.

There is no need for us to insist on the dramatic worth of the pictures Bourgogne has drawn. We need only mention the orgie in the church at Smolensk, strewn with more dead than it held already, the unfortunate men stumbling over the snow-covered heaps to reach the sanctuary, guided by music they believed to be from heaven, actually produced by drunken men at the organ; the organ itself half burnt, on the point of crashing down into the nave below. All this is unforgettable.

These Memoirs are equally valuable for their psychology of the soldier depressed by a succession of reverses. The army of 1870 will read their own miseries again. Here, too, is the drama of hunger. Where shall we find a scene to compare with that of the garrison of Wilna flying at the sight of the spectre army, ready to devour everything before it? Moreover, we cannot help seeing that Bourgogne was a kind-hearted man; his bursts of egotism are contrary to his real nature, and are followed instantly by remorse. He helped his comrades to the utmost, and risked a great deal so that a prisoner whose father had aroused his sympathy might escape. He was deeply influenced by the horrors he witnessed. He saw men stripped and robbed before the breath was out of their bodies; he saw Croats pull corpses out of the flames and devour them; he saw wounded men left by the roadside for want of means of transport, begging for help with out-stretched hands, and dragging themselves across snow reddened by their blood, while those who passed by looked on silently, wondering how soon their turn might come. Bourgogne himself fell into a ditch covered with ice near the Niémen, and begged for help in vain from the men who passed. One old Grenadier came up to him. 'I have not got any,' he said, raising two stumps to show that he had no helping hands to offer. Near the towns, where the troops thought their sufferings would come to an end, the return of hope made them more pitiful. Their tongues were loosed, they inquired for their comrades, they carried the sick on their muskets. Bourgogne saw soldiers carry their wounded officers on their shoulders for miles. Nor must we forget the Hessians, who stood all night close round their young Prince in twenty-eight[3] degrees of frost, as a fence protects a young plant. However, the effects of fatigue, fever, frost-bite, and badly-healed wounds, the undermining of his constitution by an attempted poisoning, were more than enough to make our sergeant drop behind and lose his regiment, as had happened to so many others.

He advanced, therefore, slowly and painfully quite alone, often sinking in the snow up to his shoulders, thinking himself lucky if he escaped the Cossacks, and found hiding-places in the woods; finally he recognised the road his column had taken by the corpses strewn along the way.

On a pitch-dark night he reached the scene of a battle, and in stumbling over heaped-up bodies, found one which feebly cried 'Help!' He searched and found an old friend, Grenadier Picart, a shrewd type of old soldier, and a thoroughly good fellow, whose happy nature carried him through everything.

Hearing, however, from a Russian officer that the Emperor and his Guard had all been made prisoners, Picart was suddenly seized with a mad fit, presented arms, and shouted 'Vive l'Empereur!' as if he were being reviewed.

This fact is most noteworthy, that the soldier, in spite of all his sufferings, never accused the sole cause of his misfortunes. He remained loyal and devoted, soul and body, convinced that Napoleon would know how to save the army and take his revenge. It was the soldiers' religion. 'Picart, like all the Emperor's old soldiers, thought that as soon as they were with him, everything would be well, all would succeed; that, in fact, nothing was impossible.' Up to a certain point, Bourgogne shared this view. And yet, when they returned to France, his regiment was reduced to twenty-six men!

Their god always moved them deeply. When Picart saw him at the crossing of the Bérézina, 'wrapped in a great fur-lined cloak, a purple velvet cap on his head, and a stick in his hand,' he wept, saying, 'Look at our Emperor on foot! So great as he is, so proud as we always were of him!'

At last, in March, 1813, Bourgogne was once more in his own country, and promoted (receiving the epaulette of a Sub-Lieutenant of the 145th of the Line). He then set off again for Prussia. He was wounded at the Battle of Dessau (October 12th, 1813), and made prisoner.

His leisure hours of captivity were spent in recalling his recent experiences and making notes. These, and the letters written to his mother, served later to form the Memoirs. Also he talked of the past with old comrades, a list of whom he has given, and who have added their testimony to his.

On the first return of the Bourbons,[4] he had sent in his resignation on the pretext of helping his parents to support their numerous family. He married soon afterwards.

Family life has its trials also. Bourgogne lost his wife, who left him with two daughters. He married again,[5] and had two more children.

He had settled down to his father's business, a draper's; but he soon left the shop, and threw himself into an industrial enterprise, where he lost most of his money. His simple habits, and his naturally cheerful nature, helped him through his misfortunes, which did not, however, prevent his educating his daughters well. He was devoted to them, and inspired them with his own love of art; one gave herself up to painting, the other to music. He possessed a good voice, and often sang, according to old custom, after the family meals. His collection of pictures, curiosities, and souvenirs of his campaigns brought many visitors to his house.

When he went to Paris he never neglected to pay a visit to his old comrades at the Invalides. Many also in his native town met every day at the café, and talked of old times. On the anniversary of the entrance of the French into Moscow they had a dinner, and all drank in turn from a cup brought from the Kremlin: these old soldiers of the Guard made a religion of the past.

When the days of 1830 brought the return of the tricolor,[6] Bourgogne thought of returning to the service. His family had some influence at Condé, where his brother was a doctor.[7]

M. de Vatimesnil, previously Minister of Louis XVIII. and Charles X., and then Deputy for Valenciennes, did all he could to support the old soldier of nine campaigns and three wounds, and, moreover, neglected by the fallen Government. He therefore proposed, as legitimate compensation, his nomination to the post of Major de Place, now vacant at Condé. The letter to Marshal Soult, then Minister of War, was countersigned by the two other Deputies of the Nord, Brigade and Morel. As M. de Vatimesnil received no answer, he wrote again in a fortnight afterwards.

'This nomination,' he wrote, 'would not only be an excellent one from a military point of view, but also from a political one. The Château of the Hermitage, belonging to M. le Duc de Croy, is one league from Condé, and is a meeting-place for malcontents. I do not wish for a moment to suggest that they have evil intentions, but prudence demands that a fortified place situated near the Château, and on the extreme frontier, should be confided to perfectly trustworthy officers. I can answer for the energy of M. Bourgogne.'

Failing the post, he asked for the Cross of the Legion of Honor for his protégé. But Bourgogne was entirely forgotten at the offices of the Ministry, and all traces of his services seemed to have disappeared. M. de Vatimesnil was now obliged to compile a set of papers, which he sent in on September 24th. Two months afterwards, on November 10th, the former Vélite was at last appointed Lieutenant-Adjutant de Place, but at Brest instead of Condé. That was far off indeed; but, at the same time, it was one rung up the ladder, and on March 21st, 1831, the Cross came to give him patience. New efforts were now made to obtain the post of Adjutant de Place at Valenciennes, and his wish was at last fulfilled on July 25th, 1832. They remember at Valenciennes to this day the services he performed there, especially during the troubles of 1848. He retired on a pension of twelve hundred francs in 1853.[8]

He died, an octogenarian, on April 15th, 1867, two years after the famous Coignet, who lived to be ninety years old. The terrible hardships they had gone through had not the effect of shortening their lives. But a man had to be exceptionally strong to survive them. Unhappily his last days were clouded by physical suffering, but neither his good temper nor the philosophy of his character was spoiled by it. Mme. Bussière, one of his nieces, came after the death of his second wife to take care of him, and, by her devoted care, to give him all the relief possible.

Two portraits of our hero are given here. One is the facsimile of a drawing by Alphonse Chigot; it is Bourgogne in profile, dressed in ordinary clothes, at the time of his leaving the service; the frontispiece, an earlier lithograph, shows him at the age of forty-five, with the stern official air and hard glance of an Adjutant-in-charge, a living personification of command. What we know, however, of his natural kindness shows us the truth of the poet's precept:

'Garde-toi, tant que tu vivra,
De juger les gens sur la mine!'

Let us add that in his youth he was called a handsome soldier; his height and military carriage were impressive.[9] We have made no alteration in the text other than to correct mistakes of spelling and the suppression of unnecessary words. Less scruple was shown in a paper—now out of print (L'Écho de la Frontière)—which in 1857 published a part of the Memoirs of Bourgogne, and corrected them so effectually that all the original flavor had vanished.

The collection of L'Écho de la Frontière is very rare. The only copy I know of is in the library at Valenciennes. The Bourgogne paper was torn away from it, and we have only found two copies, one at the National Library, the other in the library of M. le Baron Olivier de Watteville. These contain only part of the text published by the paper, and do not go further than p. 176 of the present volume. L'Écho de la Frontière takes the reader to p. 286. We have therefore treated these Memoirs as having the value of an unpublished work up to their publication in 1896 in our Nouvelle Revue Rétrospective.[10]

We must acknowledge with gratitude our indebtedness to M. Maurice Henault, keeper of the records at Valenciennes, for having communicated to us the original manuscript, now preserved in the town library. He did far more, by copying with his own hand the 616 pages in folio of the manuscript, thus guaranteeing the accuracy of the copy.

We also express our thanks to M. Auguste Molinier, whose original idea it was to offer the publication of the manuscript to the Nouvelle Revue Rétrospective, and to M. Ed. Martel, who made inquiries as to the Bourgogne family at Valenciennes and Condé. We must also mention our hero's nephews, M. le Docteur Bourgogne and M. Amadée Bourgogne, M. Loriaux—his former landlord—and M. Paul Marmottau, who have given us valuable assistance in our work.

Paul Cottin.
December 13th, 1896.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] He was wounded in the neck and leg; the ball entered the right thigh, and could never be extracted. Towards the end of his life it had worked down to about twelve inches above the foot.

[2] Note here passage in Book 282 in French copy.

[3] About 14° below zero, Fahrenheit.

[4] 'As the Emperor is no longer in France,' he said himself in a note in his Memoirs, 'I shall throw up my commission.'

[5] Bourgogne married at Condé on August 31st, 1814, Thérèse Fortunée Demarez. After her death, in 1822, he married Philippine Godart, a native of Tournai.

[6] 'In 1830,' he said in the note already quoted 'I shall return to the service when the tricolor reappears.'

[7] Our sergeant had three brothers and a sister, of whom he was the eldest: François, Professor of Mathematics at the College of Condé; Firmin, died young; Florence, married to a brewer; Louis Florent, Doctor of Medicine of the Faculty of Paris, died in 1870. Marie Françoise Monnier, their mother, was born at Condé in 1764.

[8] We found M. de Vatimesnil's letters in the military portfolio of Bourgogne, in the War Archives.

[9] We give here a list, copied from the Memoirs, of the important battles in which Bourgogne took part: Jena, Pultusk, Eylau, Eilsberg, Friedland, Essling, Wagram, Sorno-Sierra, Benévent, Smolensk, La Moskowa, Krasnoë, La Bérézina, Lutzen, and Bautzen. 'I may add,' he said, 'more than twenty small encounters and other skirmishes.'

[10] Bourgogne's Memoirs appeared for the first time in extenso in our Nouvelle Revue Rétrospective, which for the last fourteen years has been devoted to the publication of documents on our national history.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

[Sergeant Bourgogne in 1830.]
[The French Receiving Hospitality from Russian Women,]
[The Bridge over the Kolotscha near Borodino, September 17, 1812,]
[On the High Road from Mojaiska to Krymskoïe, September 18, 1812,]
[Bivouac near Mikalewka, November 7, 1812,]
[On the Road between Braunsberg and Elbing, December 21, 1812],
[Passage of the Berezina, November, 1812,]
[Beside the Road, not far from Pnéwa, November 8, 1812,]

MEMOIRS OF
SERGEANT BOURGOGNE

[CHAPTER I.]

FROM ALMEIDA TO MOSCOW.

It was in the month of March, 1812, while we were engaged against the English army commanded by Wellington, at Almeida in Portugal, that we received orders to march for Russia.

We crossed Spain, each day being marked by an engagement, sometimes by two and in this way reached Bayonne, the first town over the frontier in France.

On leaving this place, we travelled by the stage as far as Paris, where we expected to stay and rest; but after a halt of forty-eight hours, the Emperor reviewed us, and, deciding that we were not in need of rest, marched us all along the boulevards. Then we turned to the left in the Rue St. Martin, crossed La Villette, and found several hundred coaches and other vehicles waiting for us; we halted, but were ordered to mount four into every carriage—and, crack! we were off to Meaux. From there onwards to the Rhine in waggons, travelling day and night.

We stayed at Mayence, and then crossed the Rhine, afterwards passing on foot through the grand-duchy of Frankfort,[11] Franconia, Saxony, Prussia, and Poland. We crossed the Vistula at Marienwerder, entered Pomerania, and on the morning of June 25, a beautiful day (not, as M. de Ségur said, in bad weather), we passed over the Niemen by our pontoons, and entered Lithuania, the first province in Russia.

On the next day we left our first position, and marched until the 29th, without anything noteworthy happening; but during the night of the 29th and 30th we heard a rumbling noise—it was thunder accompanied by a furious wind. Masses of clouds gathered over our heads, and broke. The thunder and the wind lasted for more than two hours, and in a few minutes our fires were put out, our shelter torn away, our piled arms thrown down. We were lost, and did not know which way to turn. I ran to take shelter in the direction of the village where the General was lodged, but I had only the lightning to guide me—suddenly, in one of the flashes, I thought I saw a road (it was unfortunately a canal, swollen by the rain to the level of the ground). Expecting to find solid earth under my feet, I plunged in and sank. On rising to the surface I swam to the other bank, and at last reached the village. I walked into the first house I saw, and entered a room filled by about twenty men, officers, and servants, all asleep. I took possession of a bench placed near a large warm stove, and, undressing, wrung the water out of my shirt and other clothes, huddling myself up on the bench till they were dry; when daylight came, I dressed as well as I could, and left the house to look for my weapons and knapsack, which I found scattered in the mud.

On the 30th, a beautiful sun dried everything, and the same day we reached Wilna, the capital of Lithuania, where the Emperor had arrived the day before, with some of the Guard.

While we were there, I received a letter from my mother, enclosing another addressed to M. Constant, the Emperor's chief valet, who came from Peruwelz[12] in Belgium. This letter was from his mother, an acquaintance of my mother's. I went to the Emperor's lodging to deliver the letter, but only saw Roustan, the Emperor's mameluke, who told me that M. Constant had gone out with His Majesty. He invited me to wait till he returned, but, as I was on duty, I could not do so. I gave him the letter, and decided to come back and see M. Constant another time. But the next day, July 16, we left the town, at ten o'clock in the evening, going towards Borisow, and on the 27th we reached Witebsk, where we encountered Russians. We took up our position on a height above the town. The enemy occupied hills to right and left.

The cavalry, commanded by Murat, had already made several charges. Just as we arrived we saw 200 Voltigeurs of the 9th Regiment, who had ventured too far, met by a portion of the Russian cavalry, which had just been repulsed. Unless help arrived speedily to our men, they were lost, as the river and some deep gullies made access to them very difficult. But they were commanded by gallant officers, who swore, as did also the men, to kill themselves rather than not come honourably out of it. Fighting as they went, they reached a piece of favourable ground. They formed a square, and having been under fire before, their nerves were not shaken by the number of the enemy. They were quite surrounded, however, by a regiment of Lancers and other horse trying in vain to cut through them, and soon they had a rampart of killed and wounded all round them, both of men and horses. This formed another obstacle for the Russians, who, terrified, fled in disorder, amid cries of joy from the whole army.

Our men came back again quietly, as conquerors, every now and then stopping to face the enemy. The Emperor at once sent for the most distinguished, and decorated them with the order of the Legion of Honour. From a height opposite to ours, the Russians had, like us, seen the engagement and flight of their cavalry.

After this brush we made our bivouacs, and directly afterwards I had a visit from twelve young men from my own country (Condé); ten of them were drummers, one a drum-major, and the twelfth was a corporal of Voltigeurs. They all wore side-arms. I told them how much pleasure it gave me to see them, and said I was sorry I had nothing to offer them. The drum-major said:

'Mon pays, we did not come for that, but to beg you to come with us and share what we have, wine, gin, and other things very good for you. We took them yesterday evening from the Russian General. There was a little cart holding his kitchen and everything belonging to it. We have put it all into the canteen cart, with Florencia our cantinière—she is a pretty Spaniard. She might be taken for my wife: I protect her—honourably, I can tell you!' As he said this, he struck the hilt of his long rapier. 'She is a good woman: ask the others—no one dares say anything else. She had a fancy for a sergeant, who was to have married her; but he was murdered by a Spaniard from Bilbao, and until she has chosen someone else she must be taken care of. Well, then, mon pays, it is settled: you—you'll come with us. If there's enough for three, there's enough for four. Come, right about! march!' And we set off towards their army corps, which formed the advance guard.

Well, we got to the camp of the natives of Condé. There were four guests—two dragoons, Mellé, who was from Condé, Flament from Peruwelz, and Grangier, a non-commissioned officer in the same regiment as myself. We sat down near the cantinière's cart. She really was a very pretty Spaniard, and she was overjoyed to see us, as we had just come from her own country, and could speak her language pretty well—the dragoon Flament best of all—so we spent the night in drinking the Russian General's wine and talking of our country.

Day was just breaking, when a sound of artillery put a stop to our talking. We went back to our own quarters, hoping to meet again.

The poor fellows little thought that in a few days eleven of them would not be alive.

This was the 28th. We expected to fight, but the Russian army retreated, and the same day we got to Witebsk, where we stayed a fortnight. Our regiment occupied one of the faubourgs of the town.

I was quartered with a Jew, who had a pretty wife and two charming daughters with lovely oval faces. In this house I found a little vat for making beer, some barley, and a hand-mill for grinding, but no hops. I gave the Jew twelve francs to get some, and for fear he might not return we kept Rachel his wife and his two daughters as hostages. However twenty-four hours after his departure Jacob the Jew returned with the hops. In our company was a brewer, a Fleming, who made us five barrels of excellent beer.

On August 13, when we left the town, we still had two barrels of beer left; we put them under the care of Mother Dubois, our cantinière. The happy idea then occurred to her of staying behind and of selling the beer for her own profit to the men who were following us, while we, in the sweltering heat, were nearly dead of thirst.

Early on the morning of the 16th we arrived before Smolensk. The enemy had just retired there, and we took up our position on the Champ Sacré, so called by the natives of the place. This town is surrounded by very strong walls, and old towers, half made of wood. The Boristhène (Dnieper) runs on one side of the town. The siege was begun at once and a breach made, and on the morning of the 17th, when we were preparing to make an assault, to our surprise we found the town evacuated. The Russians were retreating, but they had demolished the bridge, and from a height which commanded the town they rained down bombs and shot on us.

During that day of the siege I, with one of my friends, was stationed at the outposts whence batteries were playing on the town. Marshal Davoust commanded this position. Recognising us as belonging to the Guard, he came to us and asked where the Imperial Guard was. Directly afterwards he was told that the Russians had left the town, and were advancing in our direction. He immediately ordered a battalion of Light Infantry to take the advanced position, saying to the officer in command, 'If the enemy advances you will drive them back.' I remember an old officer of this battalion, as he went forward, singing Roland's song:

'Combien sont-ils? Combien sont-ils?
C'est le cri du soldat sans gloire!'[13]

Five minutes afterwards they advanced with the bayonet on the Russian column, and forced it to re-enter the town.

As we returned to our own camp, we were very nearly killed by a shell; another fell on a barn inhabited by Marshal Mortier, and set it on fire. I recognised among the men who brought water to extinguish the fire a young soldier from my own country; he was in a regiment of the Young Guard.[14]

While we stayed outside the town, I visited the cathedral, where a large number of the inhabitants had taken refuge, their houses having been destroyed.

On the 21st we left, and the same day we crossed the Valoutina plain, where two days before a terrible encounter had taken place, and the brave General Gudin had been killed.

We continued to advance, and by forced marches arrived at a town called Dorogoboui. We left on the 24th, following up the Russians as far as Viazma, which was already in flames, and found there some brandy and a little food. We went on to Ghjal, which we reached on September 1st; there we stayed until the 4th, when we went forward again, and on the 5th met the Russian army in position. The 61st captured their first redoubt.

We got ready on the 6th for the great battle on the next day; some cleaned muskets and other weapons, others made bandages for the wounded, some made their wills, and others, again, sang or slept in perfect indifference. The whole of the Imperial Guard received orders to appear in full uniform.

At five o'clock on the morning of the next day we were under arms. The Emperor passed near us while he reviewed the whole line; he had been mounted for more than half an hour.

The battle began at seven o'clock. I cannot describe it in detail, but the whole army was overjoyed to hear the roar of the artillery, feeling certain that this time the Russians had not decamped, and that we should come face to face with them. The evening before, and for part of the night, a fine cold rain had fallen, but on this great day the weather was magnificent. This, like all our great battles, was won by the artillery, which fired 120,000 rounds. The Russians lost at least 50,000 men, either killed or wounded. Our loss was 17,000 men; forty-three Generals disabled, eight of whom, to my knowledge, were killed on the spot. These were: Montbrun, Huard, Caulaincourt (the brother of the Emperor's equerry), Compère Maison, Plauzonne, Lepel, and Anabert. This last was Colonel of a regiment of foot chasseurs. Each moment a message was sent to the Emperor, 'Sire, such and such a General is killed or wounded,' and his place had to be filled on the spot. This was how Colonel Anabert was made General. I remember it very well, for I was close to the Emperor at the time. His words were:

'Colonel, I appoint you General; lead the division which is in front of the great redoubt, and take it.'

The General galloped off, with his adjutant-major following him as his aide-de-camp. A quarter of an hour afterwards the aide-de-camp returned, and announced to the Emperor that the redoubt was taken, but that the General was wounded. Eight days afterwards he died, along with several others. I heard that the Russians lost fifty Generals, either killed or wounded. While the fighting lasted, we were placed in reserve, behind General Miaut's division; balls fell all amongst our ranks, and round the Emperor.

The battle ended with the day, and we remained on the field all night, and all the next day (the 8th). I spent that day in walking over the field—a sad and terrible spectacle. Grangier was with me, and we went as far as the ravine, the position so hotly disputed during the battle. Murat had ordered his tents to be pitched there. Just as we arrived we saw him superintend the amputation by his own surgeon of the legs of two gunners of the Imperial Russian Guard. When the operation was over, he gave them each a glass of wine. Afterwards he walked on the edge of the ravine, examining the plain which lies on the other side, fringed by a wood. There, on the preceding day, he had made more than one Muscovite bite the dust while he and his cavalry charged the retreating enemy. He was splendid to look at—so distinguished by his gallantry, his cool courage, and his handsome appearance—giving his orders to those under his command, and raining blows on his enemies. He was easily picked out by his cap, his white aigrette, and his floating cloak.

On the morning of the 9th we left the battlefield, and during the day reached Mojaisk. The Russian rear-guard was on a height the opposite side of the town from that occupied by us. A company of Voltigeurs and Grenadiers, with more than a hundred men of the 33rd, making part of the advance-guard, ascended the hill without troubling themselves about the number of the enemy waiting for them. A part of the army, still in the town, watched them astonished, as several squadrons of Cuirassiers and Cossacks advanced and surrounded the Voltigeurs and Grenadiers. But, as if they had foreseen all that, they quietly reunited, formed into platoons, then in a square, and fired from all four sides on the Russians surrounding them.

We gave them up for lost, knowing the distance separating us from them, and no help being possible. A Russian superior officer went up to them, telling them to surrender; the officer in command of the French answered him by killing him. Upon this the cavalry, terrified, ran away and left our men masters of the field.[15]

On the 10th we followed the enemy until the evening; and when we stopped I was put in command of a guard near a château where the Emperor lodged. I had just placed my men on a road leading to the château, when a Polish servant, whose master was on the Emperor's staff, passed near us, leading a horse laden with baggage. The horse was worn out, sank down, and refused to get up again. The servant took the baggage and went off. He had hardly left us when the men, who were hungry, killed the horse, so that all night we were busy eating it and cooking for the next day.

Soon afterwards the Emperor passed on foot, accompanied by Murat and a member of the Conseil d'Etat, on their way to the highroad. I made my sentries present arms. The Emperor stopped in front of us, and near the horse, which filled up the road. He asked me if we were eating it.

I replied, 'Yes.'

He smiled and said, 'Patience! In four days we shall be at Moscow, where you will have rest and proper food—however good that horse may be.'

His prediction was fulfilled, for four days afterwards we arrived at that city.

The next day (the 11th) and following days we marched in beautiful weather. On the 13th we slept at a place near a beautiful abbey, and several other fine buildings. We could see that we were approaching a great capital.

On the 14th we set out very early; we passed near a ravine where the Russians had begun to make redoubts for defence, and directly afterwards we entered a great forest of pines and birches, where we found a beautiful road. Now we were quite near Moscow.

On that day I was with an advance guard of fifteen men. After marching for an hour, the Imperial column halted, and just then I saw a linesman with his left arm in a sling. He was leaning on his musket, and seemed to be waiting for someone. I recognised him at once as one of the Condé men who had been to see me at Witebsk. He was there hoping to meet me. I went up to him, and asked him after his friends.

'They are well,' he answered, striking the ground with the butt-end of his musket. 'They all died on the field of honour, as they say, and were buried in the great redoubt. They were killed by round shot. Ah, sergeant,' he went on, 'never shall I forget that battle—what slaughter!'

'And you,' I said—'what is the matter with you?'

'Ah, bah! nothing. A ball between the elbow and shoulder. Sit down for a minute, and let us talk of our poor comrades and the young Spaniard, our cantinière.'

This is what he told me:

'We had been fighting since seven in the morning, when General Campans, who commanded us, was wounded. The officer who took his place was wounded also, and then the third. A fourth came. This one from the Guard. Directly he took command, he ordered the drums to sound the charge. That was how our regiment (the 61st) was destroyed by grape-shot—that was how our friends were killed, the redoubt taken, and the General wounded. It was General Anabert. During the action I got a ball in the arm, without knowing it at the time.

'Soon afterwards my wound began to pain me, and I went to the ambulance to have the ball extracted. I had not gone many steps before I met the young Spaniard, our cantinière; she was in tears. Some men had told her that nearly all the drummers of the regiment were killed or wounded. She said she wanted to see them, to help them if she could; so, in spite of the pain I suffered from my wound, I determined to accompany her. We walked in the midst of wounded men; some moved painfully and with difficulty, and others were carried on litters.

'When we got near the great redoubt and that field of carnage, she uttered heart-rending cries. But when she caught sight of all the broken drums of the regiment strewing the ground, she became like a madwoman. "Here, my friend, here!" she cried; "they are here!" And so they were, lying with broken limbs, their bodies torn by shot. Mad with grief, she went from one to the other, speaking softly to them; but none of them heard. Some, however, still gave signs of life, one of them being the drum-major, whom she called her father. She stopped by him, and, falling on her knees, she raised his head and poured a few drops of brandy between his lips. Just at that moment the Russians made an effort to retake the redoubt, and the firing and cannonade began again. Suddenly the Spaniard cried with pain; she had been struck by a ball in her left hand, which crushed her thumb and entered the shoulder of the dying man she held. She fell unconscious. Seeing her danger, I tried to raise her, and take her to the baggage and ambulance waggons. But with only one arm I had not strength enough. Happily, a Cuirassier passed on foot close to us. He did not need asking; he only said, "Quick! we must hurry; this is not a pleasant place." In fact, the bullets were whistling round us. Without more ado he lifted the young Spaniard and carried her like a child. She still remained unconscious. After walking for ten minutes, we got to a little wood where there was an ambulance of the Guard Artillery. Here Florencia came to her senses.

'M. Larrey, the Emperor's surgeon, amputated her thumb, and extracted the ball from my arm very cleverly, and now I feel all right again.'

This is what I heard from Dumont, the man from Condé, corporal of the Voltigeurs of the 61st. I made him promise to come to see me at Moscow, if we stayed there; but I never heard of him again.

Thus perished twelve young men from Condé in the famous Battle of Moskowa, September 7th, 1812.

End of the abstract of our march from Portugal to Moscow.

Bourgogne,[16]
Ex-Grenadier of the Imperial Guard, Chevalier
of the Légion d'Honneur.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Frankfort had been raised to a grand-duchy by Napoleon in 1806, in favour of the Elector of Mayence.

[12] A large Belgian town, seven kilometres from Condé; a favourite excursion, on account of the pilgrimage of Bonsecours.

[13]

'Combien sont-ils? Combien sont-ils?
Quel homme ennemi de sa gloire
Peut demander! Combien sont-ils?
Eh! demande ou sont les perils,
C'est la qu'est aussi la victoire!'

These are the exact words of the third verse of 'Roland à Roncevaux,' a song (words and music) by Rouget de L'Isle.

[14] Dumoulin, died of fever at Moscow.—Author's Note.

[15] One of my friends, a Vélite Captain Sabatier, commanded the Voltigeurs.—Author's Note.

[16] Bourgogne's signature at the end of this chapter shows that he considered it as a kind of introduction.

[CHAPTER II.]

THE FIRE AT MOSCOW.

At one o'clock in the afternoon of September 14th, after passing through a great forest, we saw a hill some way off, and half an hour afterwards part of the army reached the highest point, signalling to us who were behind, and shouting 'Moscow! Moscow!' It was indeed the great city; there we should rest after all our labours, for we of the Imperial Guard had marched more than twelve hundred leagues without resting.

It was a beautiful summer's day; the sun was reflected on all the domes, spires, and gilded palaces. Many capitals I have seen—such as Paris, Berlin, Warsaw, Vienna, and Madrid—had only produced an ordinary impression on me. But this was quite different; the effect was to me—in fact, to everyone—magical.

At that sight troubles, dangers, fatigues, privations were all forgotten, and the pleasure of entering Moscow absorbed all our minds. To take up good quarters for the winter, and to make conquests of another nature—such is the French soldier's character: from war to love, and from love to war! While we were gazing at the city, the order was given to appear in full uniform.

On that day I was in the advance-guard with fifteen men, and I had under my charge several officers taken prisoner in the great battle of the Moskowa, some of whom spoke French. Amongst them was a pope (a priest of the Greek Church), probably chaplain of a regiment. He, too, spoke French very well, but he seemed much sadder and more preoccupied than his companions in misfortune. I noticed that, when they arrived at the hill where we were stationed, all the prisoners bowed and crossed themselves several times. I went to the priest and asked him the reason.

'Monsieur,' he said, 'this hill is called the Mont du Salut, and every good Muscovite on seeing the holy city must bow and cross himself.'

Soon afterwards we descended the Mont du Salut, and after a quarter of an hour's march we found ourselves at the gate of the town.

The Emperor was there already with his staff. We halted, and I noticed to our left an immense cemetery. After waiting a moment, Marshal Duroc came out of the town, which he had just entered, and, addressing the Emperor, presented to him several of the inhabitants who could speak French. The Emperor questioned them; then the Marshal told His Majesty that in the Kremlin there were a great number of persons under arms, the greater part of whom were criminals released from the prisons; they had been firing at Murat's cavalry, who formed the advance-guard. In spite of several orders, they persisted in keeping their doors closed.

'These wretches,' said the Marshal, 'are all drunk, and cannot listen to reason.'

'Open the doors with cannon,' replied the Emperor, 'and drive out all you find behind them.'

The thing was done already—Murat had undertaken it himself: two cannon-shots, and all the riff-raff was dispersed through the town. Then Murat continued his progress, pressing hard on the Russian rear-guard.

The order 'Garde-à-vous!' was now given, preceded by a rolling of drums from the Guard, the signal for entering the town. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and we made our entrance marching in close columns, the bands playing in front. I was in the advance guard of thirty men, commanded by M. Césarisse, the Lieutenant of our company.

We had hardly entered the outskirts of the town, when we met several of the miserable creatures expelled from the Kremlin; they had all horrible faces, and were armed with muskets, staves, and pitchforks. In passing over the bridge leading from the suburbs to the town itself, a man crept from underneath the bridge, and placed himself in front of the regiment. He was muffled up in a sheepskin cape, long gray hair fell on his shoulders, and a thick white beard came down to his waist. He carried a three-pronged fork, and looked like Neptune rising from the sea. In these accoutrements he walked proudly up to the drum-major, moving as if to strike him, no doubt taking him for the General with his smart uniform and gold lace. He aimed a blow at him with his pitchfork, which luckily the drum-major managed to avoid, and, snatching the miserable creature's weapon from him, he seized him by the shoulders; then, kicking him behind, he launched him over the bridge and into the water he had just left. He did not get out again, however; swept away by the current, we only saw him come up at intervals. Finally he disappeared altogether.

We met several others of the same kind, who fired at us with loaded arms. There were even some of them who had nothing but wooden flint-locks to their muskets; as they wounded no one, we contented ourselves with taking their arms from them and breaking them, and if the creatures returned we got rid of them by blows in the back with the butt-end of our muskets. Some of these weapons had been taken from the arsenal at the Kremlin; the muskets with the wooden flint-locks certainly came from that place.

We knew that these wretches had tried to stab an officer of Murat's staff.

After passing over the bridge, we marched along a large and beautiful street. We were astonished not to see anyone come out—not even a lady—to listen to our band playing 'La victoire est à nous.' We could not understand this total silence, and we imagined that the inhabitants, not daring to show themselves, were peeping at us from behind their shutters. Here and there we saw a few servants in livery, and some Russian soldiers.

After marching for about an hour, we got to the first enclosure of the Kremlin. Turning sharp to the left, we entered a larger and finer street than the one we had left, leading to the Place du Gouvernement. Just as we stopped, we saw three ladies at a ground-floor window. I happened to be on the pavement, and near one of the ladies, who gave me a piece of bread as black as a coal, and full of long pieces of straw. I thanked her, and in return gave her a bit of white bread, which I had just got from Mother Dubois, our cantinière. The lady blushed, and I laughed; then she touched my arm—I cannot tell why—and I went on my way.

At last we arrived on the Place du Gouvernement. We massed ourselves together opposite the palace of Rostopchin, the Governor of the town, who ordered it to be fired. We were told that the regiment was to camp, and that no one on any pretence whatever was to absent himself. An hour afterwards, however, the whole place was filled with everything we could want—wines of all kinds, liqueurs, preserved fruits, and an enormous quantity of sweet cakes and flour, but no bread. We went into the houses on the Place asking for food and drink, but as we found no one in them we helped ourselves.

We had placed one guard under the principal entrance to the palace. On the right was a room large enough to hold all the men of the guard, and a few Russian officers—prisoners who had been found in the town. We had left the others by order at the gates of the town.

The Governor's palace is large, and its construction quite European. Opposite the entrance are two beautiful staircases, which unite on the first floor. On this story is a large drawing-room, containing an oval table and a very large painting of Alexander, Emperor of Russia, on horseback. Behind the palace is a large courtyard surrounded by servants' offices.

The fire began an hour after our arrival. On our right we saw a thick smoke, then a whirl of flames, not knowing from whence it came. We were told the fire was in the bazaar, the merchants' quarter.

'They are probably freebooters,' we were told, 'who have carelessly set fire to the shops in searching for provisions.'

Many people who were not in the campaign have said that it was the fire at Moscow that ruined the army. I, and many others with me, think just the contrary. The Russians need not have set fire to the town; they might have thrown all the provisions into the Moskowa, and wasted the country for ten leagues round—an easy thing to do, as part of the country is a desert already. Had this been done, we should have had to leave in a fortnight. After the fire there were still houses enough left to shelter the army, and, even supposing all the houses had been burnt, there were the cellars remaining. At seven o'clock the fire reached the back of the Governor's palace. The Colonel gave orders that a patrol of fifteen men should leave at once. I was among them. M. Césarisse came with us, and took command. We went in the direction of the fire, but we had hardly gone three hundred steps before we heard some firing on our right. We did not pay much attention, thinking it was only a few drunken soldiers; but fifty steps further we heard it again. It came from a sort of blind alley, and was directed at us. At the same moment I heard the cry of a wounded man close to me. He had a ball in the leg; but the wound was not dangerous, as he could still walk. We had orders to go back at once to our regiment; but we had hardly turned round, when more firing from the same quarter changed our direction again. We advanced to the house where the firing came from; we beat in the door, and came face to face with nine great rogues, armed with lances and muskets to prevent an entrance.

Then we fought in the yard, the numbers unequal. We were nineteen against nine; but, believing there were more of them, we had started by knocking down the three first. A corporal was wounded between his shoulder-belts and his coat; feeling nothing, he seized his adversary's lance, which placed him at a disadvantage, as he had only one hand free, having to hold his musket with the other. He was thrown violently back against the cellar door, still holding the lance fast. At that moment the Russian fell wounded by a bayonet. The officer had just wounded another in the wrist with his sword to make him drop his lance; but, as he still held firm, he was struck by a ball in the side, sending him to the shades. While this was going on, I with five men held the remaining four (for three had run away) so closely against a wall that they could not use their lances. At the first movement they made, we could run them through with our bayonets held against their breasts. They kept striking their weapons with their fists out of bravado. These unfortunate fellows were drunk with the brandy they had found in quantities, so that they were like madmen. We were obliged at last to finish them off.

We hurried into the house, and in one room we found two or three of the men who had made off. They were so frightened when they saw us that they had no time to seize their firearms, upon which we fell at once; while we were doing so, they jumped from the balcony.

As we had only found two men, and there were three muskets, we searched for the third, who was under the bed, and came out without being told, crying, 'Bojo! Bojo!' which means, 'My God! my God!' We did nothing to him, but kept him by us as a guide. Like the others, he was frightful and loathsome—like them, a convict clothed in a sheepskin, with a leather belt round his middle. We left the house, and found in the street the two convicts who had jumped from the window—one was dead, his head being smashed on the pavement; the other had both his legs broken.

We left them as we found them, and set out to return to the Place du Gouvernement; but what was our surprise to find this impossible, the fire having spread to such an enormous extent! To right and left was one wreath of flames, the wind was blowing hard, and the roofs were falling in. We were forced to take another course. Unfortunately, we could not make our prisoner understand us; he seemed more like a bear than a man.

After walking two hundred paces, we found a street on our right; but before entering it, we wished out of curiosity to see the house from which they had fired on us. We made our prisoner go in, following close behind; but we had scarcely taken the precaution, when we heard a cry of alarm, and saw several men flying off with lighted torches in their hands. After crossing a large courtyard, we saw that the house we had taken for an ordinary one was a magnificent palace. We left two men as sentinels at the first entrance to warn us, should we be surprised. As we had candles with us, we lit several and entered. Never in my life have I seen such costly and beautiful furniture as met our eyes, and, above all, such a collection of paintings of the Flemish and Italian schools. Amongst all these grandeurs, a chest filled with firearms of great beauty attracted our attention first. I took possession of a brace of horse-pistols, inlaid with pearls and precious stones. I also took a small machine for gauging the force of powder.

We had been wandering about in these vast and beautiful rooms for more than an hour, when we heard a terrible explosion overhead. The shock was so great that we felt certain of being crushed under the ruins of the palace. We ran downstairs cautiously, but were horror-struck on discovering that the two men we had placed below as sentries were gone. We looked a long while for them, and at last found them in the street. They told us that on hearing the explosion they had taken to their heels as fast as possible, thinking that the whole palace was falling on them. Before leaving we tried to discover the cause of our terror. In the great dining-hall the ceiling had fallen, and a large glass chandelier was broken in a thousand pieces. A bomb had been concealed in an earthenware stove. The Russians evidently considered that any means were good enough to destroy us.

While we were still in the palace we heard the cry 'Fire!' from our two sentinels, who saw that the palace was burning. The smoke was now bursting out in several places thick and black, then it became red, and finally the whole building was in flames. At the end of a quarter of an hour the roof, made of coloured and varnished iron, fell in with a frightful noise, bringing with it three-quarters of the entire building.

After a great many windings in and out, we entered a wide, long street with splendid palaces on each side, which ought to have led us in the direction from which we had come, but our convict guide could tell us nothing. He was only useful in occasionally carrying our wounded man, who walked with great difficulty. We met several men with long beards and sinister faces looking still more terrible by the lurid light of the torches they carried; we let them pass us quietly.

We then met a number of Chasseurs of the Guard, who told us that the Russians themselves had set fire to the town, and that the men we had just met did the business. Soon afterwards we surprised three of these wretches setting fire to a Greek church. On seeing us, two of them threw away their torches and fled. We went up to the third, who kept his torch, and in spite of us tried to go on with his work; a stroke with the butt-end of a musket on the head soon punished him for his obstinacy.

Just then we met a patrol of Fusilier-Chasseurs, who like us had lost their way. The sergeant in command told me that he had met convicts setting fire to a great many houses, that he had found one whose wrist he had to cut with his sword to force him to drop the torch, but that he had picked up the torch with his left hand to continue his piece of work, and they were obliged to kill him.

Further on we heard cries from some women calling in French for help; we went into the house from whence the cries came, believing that the women must be cantinières taken by the Russians. But on entering we saw spread about here and there several costumes of different kinds, all very costly, and two ladies of very dishevelled appearance came running up to us. They had with them a boy of twelve or fifteen. They begged our protection against the soldiers of the Russian police, who were going to burn their house without giving them time to take away their possessions. Amongst their things were Cæsar's mantle, Brutus's helmet, and Joan of Arc's cuirass: for the ladies told us that they were actresses and Frenchwomen, but that their husbands had been forced to serve in the Russian army. For the time we were able to stop the burning of the house, and we took the Russian police (four of them) to our regiment, which was still in the Place du Gouvernement. After all these troubles we got there at two o'clock in the morning, from the opposite side to that by which we had left. When the Colonel heard that we had come back, he came to tell us how displeased he was with us, and to ask us what we had been doing since seven o'clock yesterday evening. But when he saw our prisoners and our wounded man, and we had told him of all the dangers we had been through, he said he was pleased to see us again, as he had been very uneasy about us.

On glancing at the Place where the men bivouacked, it seemed to be an assembly from all parts of the world, for our soldiers were clothed as Kalmucks, Chinese, Cossacks, Tartars, Persians, and Turks, and many of them covered with splendid furs. There were even some dressed in French Court dress, wearing swords with steel hilts shining like diamonds. Add to this that the space was covered with all kinds of dainties to eat, abundance of wines and liqueurs, a little fresh meat, a quantity of hams and fish, a little flour, but no bread.

On that day (the 15th), the day after our arrival, the regiment left the Place du Gouvernement at nine in the morning for the neighbourhood of the Kremlin, where the Emperor had taken up his quarters. I was left at the Governor's palace with fifteen men.

About ten o'clock I saw a General on horseback riding up, looking like General Pernetty.[17] He was leading a young man dressed in a sheepskin cape, fastened by a red woollen belt. The General asked me if I was in charge of the guard, and on my saying 'Yes,' he continued:

'Very good. You will see that this man is put to death with the bayonet. I have just caught him with a torch setting fire to the palace where I am staying.'

I told off four men, therefore, to carry out the General's orders. But French soldiers are not made for this kind of work—in cold blood. Our blows did not pierce through his sheepskin, and we should have spared his life on account of his youth (moreover, he had not the appearance of a criminal), but that the General remained looking on till he saw the poor wretch fall from a shot in the side. We left him lying where he was.

Soon after another man came, an inhabitant of the place, but a Frenchman and Parisian by origin. He said he was proprietor of the baths, and asked me for a safe-conduct, as they were setting fire to his establishment. I gave him four men, who came back almost directly, however, saying that the place was in flames already.

A few hours after our dreadful execution, the men came to tell me that a woman walking through the Place had thrown herself on the unfortunate young man's body. I went to see her, and she tried to make us understand that it was her husband, or at any rate a relation. She was sitting on the ground, holding the dead man's head on her lap, stroking his face, and from time to time kissing him, but without shedding a tear. At last, not able to bear such a heart-rending scene, I brought her into the guard-room and gave her a glass of liqueur, which she eagerly drank, then a second, and a third, in fact, as much as she could drink. She gave us to understand that she would stay for three days where she was, waiting for the dead man to come to life again, believing, like all the Russian peasants, that the dead revive in three days. She fell asleep at last on the sofa.

At five o'clock our company came back, and was again put on picket duty, so I was there for another twenty-four hours. The rest of the regiment was busy trying to extinguish the fire round the Kremlin; they were successful for the time, but the fire broke out again afterwards more fiercely than ever.

After the company had returned, the Captain sent patrols in different directions. One was sent to the baths, but came back directly, telling us that the moment they arrived the whole place fell in with a terrible noise, and that the sparks, carried far by a west wind, had caused fires in many places.

During all that evening and for part of the night, our patrols were bringing in Russian soldiers from all quarters of the town, driven out by the fire from the houses where they were hidden. Amongst them were two officers—one of the regular army, the other of the militia; the first allowed himself to be disarmed of his sword, only asking that he might keep a gold medal hanging at his side; but the other, a young man, having a cartridge-belt besides a sword, objected to my taking them, and, speaking in French, told us he was in the militia. However, after he had given us his reasons, we made ours pretty clear to him.

At midnight the fire broke out again near the Kremlin; there were fresh efforts made to extinguish it. But on the 16th, at three o'clock in the morning, it recommenced more violently than ever; this time it spread.

During the night of the 15th and 16th, I and two of my friends, non-commissioned officers like myself, decided to explore the city and the Kremlin we had heard so much of—so we set out. There was no need of a torch to light us; but, as we intended to pay visits to the houses and cellars of the Muscovite gentlemen, we each took a man with us armed with candles.

My comrades knew their way a little, but as at every instant fresh houses fell in, the streets lost their character, and we were soon hopelessly lost. After walking aimlessly for some time, we fortunately met a Jew tearing his beard and hair at seeing the synagogue of which he was rabbi burning away. As he spoke German, he told us his troubles, saying that he and others of his religion had put everything valuable they possessed into the synagogue for safety, but that now all was lost. We tried to comfort this child of Israel, took him by the arm, and asked him to lead us to the Kremlin. I can hardly help laughing now when I remember that, in the midst of such a disaster, the Jew asked us if we had anything to sell or exchange. I really think he asked the question from force of habit, as just then no trading was possible.

After going through several districts of the town, the greater part of them on fire, and admiring the fine streets still standing, we reached a little open place on a slight hill not far from the Moskowa. Here the Jew pointed out to us the towers of the Kremlin, as clear as day by the light of the fires. We stayed here to visit a cellar which some Lancers of the Guard were just leaving. We took some wine and sugar and a quantity of preserved fruits, and gave them all to the Jew to carry, under our protection. It was daylight when we reached the first enclosure of the Kremlin. We passed under a door built of gray stone, surmounted by a belfry and a bell in honour of St. Nicholas, whose statue stood in a niche over the door. This saint, at least six feet high, richly dressed, was worshipped by every Russian who passed by, even the convicts. He is the patron saint of Russia.

When we had passed through the first enclosure we turned to the right, and after crossing a street with much difficulty, on account of the disorder caused by a fire which had just burst out in some houses where the cantinières of the Guard were lodged, we reached a high wall topped by great towers with golden eagles on them. Passing through a large gateway, we found ourselves in a courtyard and opposite the palace. The Emperor had been there since the day before; the 14th and 15th he had slept in the suburbs.

As soon as we arrived we found some friends in the 1st Chasseurs picketing there, who invited us to breakfast. We ate some good meat, a treat we had not enjoyed for a long time, and we had also some excellent wine to drink. The Jew, who was still with us, was forced to eat with us, in spite of his repugnance to the ham. I ought to say, however, that the Chasseurs, who had some silver bullion taken from the Mint, had promised to do business with him. The ingots were of the size and shape of a brick. It was getting on to mid-day while we sat at breakfast with our friends, our backs against the enormous guns which guard each side of the arsenal, when we heard the cry 'To arms!' The fire had attacked the Kremlin, and firebrands began to fall into the courtyard where the Artillery of the Guard were stationed with all their caissons. There was besides a great quantity of tow, left by the Russians, part of which was already in flames. The fear of an explosion disordered everything, and the confusion was increased by the presence of the Emperor, who was obliged to leave the Kremlin.

We parted from our friends while this was going on, and set out to rejoin the regiment. We had explained to our guide where it was, and he tried to take us there by a short-cut which we found to be impossible, as the flames drove us back. We had to wait till the passage was free, for now the fire had spread all round the Kremlin, and the violence of the wind blew bits of red-hot wood against our legs, forcing us to shelter in a cellar where several men had taken refuge already. We stayed there for some time, and when we came out, we met the Guards going to the Peterskoë Palace, whither the Emperor had now to betake himself. Only the first battalion of the 2nd Chasseurs remained at the Kremlin. It kept back the fire from the palace, for the Emperor returned there on the 18th. I forgot to say that the Prince of Neufchâtel, wishing to see the extent of the fire round the Kremlin, had mounted with an officer on one of the battlements of the palace, and had been nearly blown over by the fearful wind.

The fire and the wind continued to rage, but there was now a free passage by which the Emperor had just gone out. We followed it, and found ourselves almost directly on the banks of the Moskowa. We walked along the quay, following it till we found a street free from flames, or one altogether burnt out. By the road the Emperor had taken, several houses had fallen in ruins, and passage that way was impossible.

We found ourselves at last in a district all burnt to cinders, and the Jew tried with much difficulty to find a street leading to the Place du Gouvernement. As we walked, the wind blew hot ashes into our eyes, so that we could not see. We plunged through the streets with no worse mishap than getting our feet scorched, for we had to walk over the iron sheeting from the roofs and on the burning cinders which covered the streets.

We had already gone a long distance, when suddenly we found a clear empty space to our right. This was the Jews' quarter; the houses, being all of wood, had been burnt to the ground. On seeing this, our guide uttered a cry of despair, and fell down unconscious. We hastened to take off the burdens he carried, and, unpacking a bottle of liqueur, we made him swallow a few drops, then poured a little over his face. He soon opened his eyes, and when we asked him why he had fainted, he told us that his house had been burnt, and that probably his family had perished. On saying this, he again fell unconscious, so that we were obliged to leave him in spite of not knowing which way to turn without a guide. In such a labyrinth we had to make a decision, however, and we gave the package to one of the men to carry, and continued our way, but we were stopped directly by obstacles across our road.

The distance round to the next street was about 300 yards, but we dared not traverse it on account of the blinding hot ashes. While we were deciding what to do, one of my friends proposed making an excursion to reconnoitre. I advised him to wait, and the others agreed with me, when, seeing our irresolution, he cried, 'Who loves me follows me!' and set off. The other followed with two of our men, and I remained with the man bearing the package, which consisted of three bottles of wine, five of liqueurs, and some preserved fruits.

They had hardly gone thirty yards, however, when the leader disappeared; he fell all his length, and the second picked him up. The two last had to cover their faces with their hands, nearly blinded by the ashes like the first, who could not see at all, enveloped as they were by a whirling cloud of this dust. The first one, not being able to see, cried and swore like the devil. The others were obliged to leave him, as they could not bring him back to where I was. I was afraid to join them, the path becoming more and more dangerous. We had to wait for an hour before I could get to them, and we provisionally emptied one of the bottles.

When at last we were reunited, we saw the impossibility of advancing without danger. We decided to retrace our steps, and the idea struck us of each taking a sheet of iron to cover our heads, holding it to the windy and dusty side. After bending the iron into the shape of shields, we set out, one of the men in front; then I came leading the half-blinded man by the hand, the others following. We succeeded after an infinite deal of trouble, stumbling time after time.

We now found ourselves in a new street, where several Jewish families and some Chinese were huddled up in corners, keeping guard over the few possessions they had saved or had taken from others. They seemed surprised to see us; they had, perhaps, not seen any other Frenchmen in that quarter. We went up to a Jew, and made him understand that he was to lead us to the Place du Gouvernement. A father came with his son, and as the streets were blocked by ruined houses, or by others in flames, it was only after many windings and great difficulties, and many halts for rest, that at eleven o'clock at night we at last reached the place we had left the evening before. I had had no rest since we came to Moscow, so I lay down on some beautiful furs our soldiers had taken, and slept till seven the next morning.

The company was not yet off duty, as for thirty-six hours all the regiments, the Fusiliers, and even the Young Guard, had been occupied in suppressing the fire under the direction of Marshal Mortier, who had been appointed Governor of the town. As soon as it was extinguished on one side it broke out again on another. However, sufficient houses were preserved for lodgings, but with infinite difficulty, as Rostopchin had removed all the hand-pumps. A few were found, but they were quite useless.

During the 16th orders had been given to shoot everyone found setting fire to houses. This order was executed at once. A little open space near the Place du Gouvernement was called by us the Place des Pendus, as here a number of incendiaries were shot and hung on the trees.

The Emperor, on the day of our entry, had commanded, through Marshal Mortier, that no pillage was to be allowed. The order had been given in every regiment; but as soon as it was known that the Russians themselves had fired the town, it was impossible to restrain the men. Everyone took what he needed, and even things that were not needed. On the night of the 17th the Captain allowed me to take ten men on special duty and hunt for provisions. He sent twenty in a different direction, as pillage[18] was to be allowed, but enjoining as much order as possible. So I set out on my third night's expedition. We crossed a wide street leading from our Place, which had been preserved from the fire, and here many superior officers and a large number of army employés had quartered themselves. We walked through several other streets, where nothing was left but piles of sheet-iron off the roofs; the wind of the day before had swept them clean of cinders.

The quarter of the town we reached was still standing, but we saw nothing except a few hackney coaches without horses. Absolute silence reigned. We looked at the carriages, and found nothing; but we had hardly got away, when we heard a ferocious cry behind us. This was twice repeated, and in two different directions. We listened for some time, and heard nothing more; so we decided to enter two of the houses—I into the first with five men, and a corporal into another with five others. We lighted the lanterns we had with us, and, sword in hand, we made ready to force our way wherever we could find what we wanted.

The house I tried was shut up, and the door fastened by large plates of iron. This was annoying, as we wanted to effect our entrance quietly; but, noticing that the cellar door was open, two of our men went down, and there they discovered a trap-door communicating with the house, and in this way they opened the door for us. When we had entered, we saw that we were in a grocer's shop. Everything was left in order, except in a dining-room, where some cooked meat was left on the table, and several bags of small change on a chest.

After exploring the house, we collected provisions. We found flour, butter, quantities of sugar and coffee, and a large barrel full of eggs arranged in layers and packed in hay. We made our choice without disputing about price, for we considered we might as well help ourselves, as the house had been deserted, and at any moment it might take fire. While we were engaged this way, the corporal sent to tell me that the house he had entered belonged to a coach-builder, and contained more than thirty of the pretty little carriages the Russians call drouschkys; and that he had found a lot of Russian soldiers lying on rush beds, who, seeing the Frenchmen, had fallen on their knees, their hands crossed on their breasts, their foreheads to the ground, imploring mercy. Seeing, however, that they were wounded, the corporal tried to relieve them, as they were in no state to help themselves, nor could they hurt us.

I went immediately to the coach-builder's, and chose two pretty convenient little carriages to transport all our provisions.

I also saw the wounded men; five of them were gunners with broken legs. There were seventeen altogether amongst them, some Asiatics, recognisable by their manner of saluting.

As I was going out with my carriages, I caught sight of three men, one of whom had a lance, the second a sword, and the third a lighted torch, setting the grocer's house on fire. The men I had left there were so busy choosing and packing up all the good things that they were quite unaware of what was going on. We shouted out to frighten the rascals, but they never budged, and looked quietly at us. The man with the lance even put himself in a position of defence, should we attack them. This was difficult, as we had no swords. The corporal came up, however, with two loaded pistols taken from the room where he found the wounded men; he gave one to me, and made as if to fire with the other at the man with the lance. I prevented him at the moment, fearing that the noise might bring out a greater number upon us.

On seeing this, one of our men, a Breton, seized the pole of one of the little carriages, and, using it as a quarter-staff, attacked the man, who was not used to this sort of fighting, and broke both his legs. He uttered a terrible cry as he fell; but the Breton, in his rage, gave him no time to cry again, and struck him a violent blow on the head. No cannon-ball could have done the work better. He would have served the two others in the same way, had not we prevented him. The fellow with the lighted torch ran into the grocer's house with two of our men after him, and only after two blows with the sword would he listen to reason. He then submitted with a good grace, and was harnessed to one of the carriages, together with a man just seized in the street.

We now got ready for our departure. Our two carriages were packed with everything in the shop—on the first, drawn by the two Russians, we had placed the barrel of eggs, and had taken the precaution to tie the men round the middle by a stout rope with a double knot; the second carriage was drawn by four of our own men, until we could find a team like the first.

But just as we were setting off, we saw fire coming from the coachmaker's house. We could not leave the wounded men to perish in agony, so we carried them into a stable separated from the house. That was all we could do, and, after performing this action of common humanity, we departed as quickly as possible to get out of reach of the flames, which were bursting out in several directions. Hardly, however, had we gone twenty-five yards, when we heard the poor wounded wretches shrieking frightfully. We stopped again, and the corporal went back with four men to find out the cause. The fire had caught some straw in the yard, and was fast gaining on their place of shelter.

The corporal and his men did all in their power to save them, and then rejoined us; but it is more than probable that the wounded men perished.

We went on our way, and for fear of being overtaken by the fire we forced our first team to trot, urging them on by blows from our swords. However, there were no means of avoiding the fire, for when we got near the Place du Gouvernement we saw that the principal street where many of our superior officers were quartered was in flames. This was the third time it had been set on fire, but it was also the last.

We now saw that the fire was only burning here and there, and that by running one could get through the clear spaces. When we reached the first of the burning houses we stopped, considering whether it was possible to get across them. Several had fallen already, and those nearest to us threatened to crush us under the flames. However, we could not remain where we were, for we saw that the houses behind us had also caught fire.

Thus, not only were the flames in front of and behind us, but also on each side, and we were compelled to pass through a great vault of fire. We sent the carriage on first, but the Russians objected to be in front, in spite of several blows from the flat of our swords. Our own men, therefore, went first, and, encouraging each other, got over the worst place triumphantly. We therefore redoubled our blows on the Russians, who, fearing there was worse to follow, rushed forward crying 'Houra!'[19] in great danger from the different articles of furniture which continually fell into the street. As soon as the last carriage had got over, we followed them, running, and found ourselves in a place where four streets met, all on fire, and although the rain was now pouring down, the fire still raged, and at every moment houses, and even entire streets, disappeared in the smoke and ruins.

It was necessary to rejoin the rest of the regiment as quickly as possible, but we saw how impracticable this was, and that we should have to wait till the whole street was reduced to ashes. So we decided to turn back, and immediately acted on this. The Russians this time went first without hesitation, but just as they had traversed the dangerous passage, and we were about to follow, we heard a terrible noise—the rending of beams, and the fall of burning wood and iron roofs crashing on to our carriage. Instantly everything was annihilated, even the Russians. We did not much regret them, but the loss of our provisions distressed us very much, especially the eggs. Our situation was now dreadful; we were blocked in by the fire without any means of retreat. Happily for us, just where the four streets met, there was a place where we could shelter from the flames, and wait until the entire demolition of a street should afford us a passage. While sheltering thus, we noticed that one of the houses was an Italian confectioner's shop, and although it was on the point of burning, we thought we had better try to save a few good things if we could. The door was locked, but a window was open on the first floor, and chance provided us with a ladder, which, placed on a barrel found against the house, was long enough for the men to reach the window.

Although part of the house was already on fire, nothing stopped them. They opened the door to us, and we discovered, greatly to our satisfaction and delight, that everything was left in the house. We found all kinds of preserved fruits and liqueurs and a quantity of sugar, but what astonished us most of all was the finding of three large sacks of flour. Our surprise was greater still on seeing some pots of mustard from the street of St. André des Arts, Paris.

We hastily emptied the shop, and made a store of everything in the middle of the street we occupied, until we could transport it all to our company. As the rain still poured down, we made a shelter with the doors of the houses, and bivouacking there, we stayed for more than four hours, waiting for an opening through the fire.

To pass the time we made jam-fritters, and when we departed we took away all we could possibly carry. The remaining carriage and our sacks of flour we left under the care of five men, meaning to come back with others to fetch them. It was quite impossible to make use of the carriage, as the middle of the street was filled up with a quantity of furniture, broken and half burnt up, pianos, glass chandeliers, and an infinity of other very expensive things.

At last, after crossing the Place des Pendus, we reached the rest of the company at ten in the morning; we had parted from them at ten the preceding evening. We lost no time in sending back for what we had left behind, and ten men set out at once. They returned an hour afterwards, each carrying something, and, in spite of difficulties, bringing the carriage also. They told us they had been obliged to clear out the place where the Russians had been crushed, and that they had found the bodies quite burnt and withered up.

On the same day (the 18th) we were taken off duty, and we took possession of our quarters in a fine street hitherto preserved from fire, not far from the first enclosure of the Kremlin. Our company had a large café assigned to it; one of the rooms contained two billiard-tables. The non-commissioned officers were quartered in a boyar's house, which occupied the first floor. Our men took the billiard-tables to pieces to make room, and some of them made capes for themselves of the cloth.

We found a great quantity of wine in the cellars, and some Jamaica rum, also a large cellar filled with barrels of excellent beer, packed in ice to keep it fresh during the summer. We found at our boyar's house fifteen large cases of wine and sparkling champagne. The same day our men discovered a large sugar store, of which we took a quantity to make punch with. This lasted all the time we were at Moscow, and we never missed a day without drinking some. Every evening we made enough for three or four times, in a large silver bowl which the Russian boyar had forgotten to take away. This bowl held six bottles at the least. Add to all this a fine collection of pipes and some excellent tobacco.

On the 19th the Emperor inspected us at the Kremlin opposite the palace, and on the same day I had orders to join a detachment of Fusilier-Chasseurs and Grenadiers and a squadron of Polish Lancers—200 men in all. Our object was to keep the Empress's summer palace, at the farther end of Moscow, free from fire. This detachment was commanded by a General whom I took to be General Kellerman.

We left at eight in the evening, and it was half-past nine before we arrived at a spacious building looking about the size of the Tuileries, built of wood, and covered with stucco to represent marble. Guards were immediately posted outside, and patrols were sent out for greater safety. I was sent with several men to inspect the interior, to see if anyone were hidden there.

I was fortunate in having this opportunity of seeing this immense building, furnished with all the combined splendour and brilliance of Europe and Asia. It seemed as if everything had been lavished on its decoration, and yet within an hour it was entirely consumed. A quarter of an hour after we had used all the precautions possible against fire, it broke out behind us, in front of us, to right, to left, and we were unable to see who set it going. There it was in a dozen places at once, and flaring from every attic window.

The General immediately called for the sappers to try to cut the fire off, but it was impossible. We had no pumps, and not even any water. Directly afterwards we saw several men, some of them with torches still burning, come out from under the great staircase, by some subterranean way, and try to go quietly off. We ran after them and stopped them; there were twenty-one of them, and eleven others were arrested on the other side. These were not seen coming out of the palace, and nothing about them showed that they were incendiaries. More than half of them, however, were evidently convicts.

The utmost we could do was to save some pictures and a few other valuables, amongst which were Imperial ornaments, velvet mantles lined with ermine, besides many other precious things which we afterwards had to leave behind. About half an hour after the fire broke out, a furious wind got up, and in less than ten minutes we were hemmed in by the fire, and could neither advance nor retreat. Several men were hurt by falling pieces of burning timber. It was two o'clock in the morning before we could get out of this hell, and we then found that the fire had spread for more than half a league all round—for the whole of this quarter was built of wood, and was very beautiful.

We set out again to return towards the Kremlin, taking with us our prisoners, thirty-two in number. I was put in command of the rear-guard, and the escort of the prisoners, with orders to bayonet those who tried to run away or refused to follow.

Two-thirds of these wretches were convicts, with sinister faces; the others were middle-class citizens and Russian police, recognised by their uniform.

As we went along, I noticed amongst the prisoners one who was muffled up in a fairly clean green cloak, crying like a child, and saying repeatedly in good French:

'Mon Dieu! I have lost my wife and my son in the fire!'

He seemed very unhappy, so I asked him who he was. He told me that he was Swiss, and came from near Zurich, and that for seventeen years he had been at Moscow teaching German and French. He then began again to cry out in despair, always repeating:

'My dear son! my poor son!'

I was very sorry for the poor fellow. I tried to comfort him, telling him that very likely he would find them; and, as I knew that he would be condemned to die with the others, I determined to save him. Two men walked near him arm-in-arm, one young, and the other middle-aged. I asked the Swiss who they were; he told me they were tailors, a father and son.

'But,' he said, 'the father is happier than I; he is not separated from his son, and they can die together.'

He knew the fate that awaited him; he had heard the order given in French. While he was speaking to me, he stopped suddenly, and gazed wildly in front of him. I asked him what was the matter, but he did not answer. Soon afterwards he sighed heavily and began to weep again, saying that he was looking for the place where his house had stood, and that it must be there, as he recognised the large stove still standing. I must here say that we could see as plainly as in broad daylight, not only the town itself, but far beyond.

Just then the head of the column, which was detached from the Polish Lancers, stopped still, not knowing where to turn, as the narrow street was completely blocked up. I took advantage of this delay to let the unhappy man satisfy himself whether the bodies of his wife and son were among the ashes of his house, and I offered to accompany him. We went to the site of the house, and at first saw nothing to confirm his suspicions. I was beginning to comfort him, saying that no doubt they were saved, when, at the entrance to the cellar, I saw something blackened and without form, all twisted up. I examined it, and found it to be a dead body, but whether man or woman it was impossible to see. I had hardly time, either, for the Swiss, who had come up behind me, uttered a frightful cry and fell to the ground. I raised him with the help of a man who stood near, but when he came to himself, he rushed in despair all over the ruins of his house, and with another terrible cry he called for his son, and flung himself into the cellar, where I heard him fall heavily like an inert mass.

I did not wish to follow him; I hastened to rejoin the detachment, reflecting sadly on what I had just seen. One of my friends asked me what I had done with the man who spoke French, and I told him of the tragic scene I had just witnessed. As we were still halted, I asked him to come and see the place. We went to the cellar door, and heard groaning. My comrade proposed to go down and help him, but, knowing that to save him from the cellar was to lead him to certain death, as all the prisoners were to be shot, I said that it would be very foolhardy to descend into such a place without a light.

Luckily the order 'To arms!' was given at that moment. We waited while the left column started, and as we were preparing to follow, we heard steps behind us. I turned round, and was astounded to see the poor Swiss, looking like a ghost, and with his arms laden with furs to cover the bodies of his wife and son. He had found his son dead in the cellar, but not burnt; the body at the door was his wife's. I advised him to return to the cellar, and hide himself till we had left, when he could perform his painful duty. I do not know if he understood me, but we left him.

We reached the Kremlin at five o'clock in the morning, and put the prisoners in a place of safety; but I took the precaution to keep back the two tailors, father and son, on my own account. As will be seen, they were very useful to us during our stay in Moscow.

On the 20th the fire had slackened a little. The Governor of the town, Marshal Mortier, and General Milhaud, who was appointed Commandant of the Place, were both very active in organizing a body of police. This was formed from the Italians, Germans, and Frenchmen living in Moscow who had escaped Rostopchin's rigorous orders to leave the city by hiding themselves.

While I was looking out of the window of our quarters at mid-day, I saw the shooting of a convict. He refused to kneel down, but met his death bravely, and, striking his breast, he seemed to defy his executioners. A few hours afterwards our prisoners met with the same fate.

I spent the day quietly enough, but at seven o'clock the Adjutant-Major, Delaître, ordered me to surrender myself at a place he named to me for having allowed three prisoners entrusted to me to escape. I made what excuses I could, and went to the place indicated; other non-commissioned officers were there already. I reflected that my conscience was quite clear for having saved the lives of these men, convinced as I was of their innocence.

The room I was in opened on to a long, narrow gallery connecting the house with another wing of the building. A part of this wing had been burnt, so that no one inhabited it, and I noticed that the portion still standing had not been examined. I was naturally curious to see it, and having nothing to do, I went to the end of the gallery. I fancied I heard a noise coming from a room with a closed door. I listened, and thought I distinguished the words of a language I did not understand. I knocked at the door, but no one answered, and profound silence followed. I then looked through the keyhole, and saw a man lying on a sofa, and two women standing, who appeared to be keeping him from talking. I knew a few words of Polish, which is much like Russian, so I knocked again, and begged for some water. No answer came; but at my second request, which I made more forcible by a kick on the door, they came and opened it. When I entered the room, the two women rushed out into another. I closed the door, but the man on the sofa never moved. At once I recognised him for a criminal of the lowest type, dirty all over from his beard to his boots. His clothes consisted of a sheepskin cloak and a leather belt; near him were a lance and two torches, besides two pistols at his belt. These last I took from him, and seizing one of the torches, I hit him on the side with it, and made him open his eyes. On seeing me, he jumped up as if to spring upon me, but fell flat down again. I aimed one of his pistols at him, but he only gazed at me stupidly, and, trying to rise, fell again. After some time, he at last succeeded in keeping on his feet. Seeing how drunk he was, I took hold of his arm, and leading him from the room, I took him to the end of the gallery. When we reached the top of the staircase, which descended straight down like a ladder, I gave him a push; he rolled down like a barrel, and fell almost against the guard-room door opposite the stairs. The men dragged him to a room where they locked up all of his description, and I did not hear him speak again.

This expedition over, I returned to the room where I had found the man, and shut myself in. I looked well round to see that there was no one about, then opened the second door, and saw the two Dulcineas sitting on a sofa. They did not seem surprised to see me, but both started talking at once, I not understanding a word. I tried to ask them if they had anything to eat; they understood me perfectly, and gave me cucumber, onions, a large piece of salt fish, and a little beer, but no bread. Afterwards the younger of the two brought me a bottle of something she called kosalki; when I tasted it, I knew it was Dantzig gin. In less than half an hour we had emptied the bottle, my two Muscovites doing more service than I.

I stayed for some time with these two sisters, and then I returned to my room. I found there a non-commissioned officer of my company, who had been waiting for me a long time. When I related my adventures, he seemed delighted, as he could find no one to wash clothes. He seemed to think the two Muscovite ladies would be only too much honoured by being asked to wash and mend for French soldiers. We waited till ten o'clock, when everyone was asleep, as we wished to keep our secret; then the non-commissioned officer returned with the sergeant-major, and we went to look for our beauties. They made a lot of difficulties at first, not quite knowing where we were taking them, but making me understand I was to go with them. I went as far as our quarters, where they followed us willingly, laughing as they went. We found a small room at liberty, which we made over to them, furnishing it with whatever we could find—all kinds of pretty things which the noble Muscovite ladies had not been able to carry away. Although our friends had had the appearance of common servants, they were thus transformed into elegant ladies—ladies, however, who had to wash and mend for us.

On the next morning, the 21st, I heard a loud report of firearms, and was told that several convicts and members of the police force had just been shot; they had been caught setting fire to the Foundling Hospital, and to the hospital containing our wounded men. The sergeant-major came to tell me directly afterwards that I was free.

When I got back to our quarters, I saw that the two tailors I had saved were already at work making some capes out of the cloth off the billiard-tables we had taken to pieces. I went into the room where we had left our women, and found them at the wash-tub, and making but poor work of it. This was very natural, however, as they were wearing some silk dresses belonging to a Baroness. But for want of anything better one had to put up with it. During the remainder of the day I was busy arranging our quarters and getting in provisions, as we were apparently to stay here for some time. To last for the winter we had seven large cases of sweet champagne, a large quantity of port wine, five hundred bottles of Jamaica rum, and more than a hundred great packets of sugar. And all this was for six non-commissioned officers, two women, and a cook.

Meat was difficult to get, but on this evening we had a cow. I don't know where she came from, but probably from some forbidden place; so we had to kill her at night to escape observation. We had a large number of hams, having found a shop full of them; add to all this a quantity of salt fish, a few sacks of flour, two large barrels filled with suet, which we had taken for butter, and as much beer as we wanted. These constituted our provisions, in case we had to spend the winter in Moscow. In the evening orders were given for a roll-call at ten o'clock; eighteen men were missing. The remainder of the company slept luxuriously in the billiard-room, lying on rich furs, sable, lion, fox and bear's skins; many of them had their heads wrapped up turban-fashion in fine cashmeres, looking, in fact, like Sultans instead of Grenadier Guards; only the houris were wanting to complete the picture.

I prolonged my roll-call to eleven o'clock, so that I should not have to report the absent men, and they returned soon afterwards bending beneath their burdens. Amongst other valuable things they brought were several silver plaques in relief; also each had a silver ingot, the size and form of a brick. For the rest there were furs, Indian shawls, silk stuffs brocaded in silver and gold. They asked for leave to make two other journeys to fetch some wine and preserved fruits left behind in a cellar. I gave them permission, and a corporal went with them. We non-commissioned officers had a right to 20 per cent. of all the things saved from the fire.

On the 22nd we rested, added to our stock of provisions, sang, smoked, laughed and drank, and amused ourselves. I paid a visit the same day to an Italian print-seller, whose house had escaped the fire. On the morning of the 23rd a convict was shot in the courtyard. That same day we had orders to be ready the next morning for inspection by the Emperor. At eight o'clock on the morning of the 24th we set out for the Kremlin. Many other regiments were collected there for the same reason, and that day many medals were given and many promotions made. Those who were rewarded deserved well of their country, having shed their blood many times on the field of battle.

I took advantage of this occasion to look at all the wonderful things in the Kremlin, and while several other regiments were being inspected, I went to see the Church of St. Michael, the tomb of the Russian Emperors. Some soldiers of the Guard (the 1st Chasseurs) picketed at the Kremlin had come here the first day of our arrival, hoping to find the treasure said to be concealed. They searched through the enormous crypt, but found instead of treasures nothing but tombs in stone, covered over with velvet, having inscriptions on silver plates. They found also several people from the town who had fled there for refuge, thinking that the presence of the dead would protect them. Amongst them was a pretty young woman, said to belong to one of the best Moscow families, who had foolishly become infatuated with one of the superior officers. She behaved more foolishly still by following him in the retreat. Like so many others, she died of cold, hunger, and want.

After the crypt of St. Michael, I went to see the famous bell. It is nineteen feet high, and a great part of it is embedded in the earth, probably by its own weight, as it has lain on the ground ever since the fire burned down the tower in which it hung. Near it, and opposite to the palace, is the arsenal, with an enormous cannon on each side of the door. On the right, farther off, is the cathedral, its nine bell-towers covered with gilded copper. The cross of Ivan the Great is on the highest tower, and dominates them all. It is made of wood, thirty feet high, covered with silver-gilt plates, and is held in its place by gilded chains.

Some days after this, the men on extra duty, carpenters and others, were ordered to take down this cross, to be conveyed as a trophy to Paris; but, on their attempting to remove it, it fell by its great weight, nearly killing the men, who were dragged down by the chains they held. The same thing happened with the great eagles on the towers round the Kremlin walls.

It was mid-day by the time we had been inspected. We went out by the arched gateway containing the great St. Nicholas. Several Russian slaves were praying there, bowing and crossing themselves before the saint; they were no doubt making intercession against us.

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.

THE FRENCH RECEIVING HOSPITALITY FROM RUSSIAN WOMEN.
From a sketch made at the time by an officer of Napoleon's army.

Mother Dubois, true to her trade, and knowing the full value of the clothes she wore (silk brocade in gold and silver), went off without a word. As she left, however, the sergeant of the guard on police duty, seeing a strange lady in the street so early, and thinking he had found a prize, went to her, and tried to take her by the arm and lead her to his room. But Mother Dubois, who had a husband, and, moreover, had drunk a good deal of punch, dealt the sergeant such a vigorous blow on the face that she knocked him completely over. He shouted out, and, as we had not gone to bed yet, we ran down to help him. The sergeant was so furious that we had a great piece of work to din into his head that he must not arrest a woman like Mother Dubois.

The 28th and 29th we spent in looking after our provisions. We went out in reconnoitring-parties during the day, and at night we went back to take the things away.

On the 30th we were inspected in the street opposite our quarters; when it was over it occurred to the Colonel to show the inspector how the troops were quartered. When the turn of our company came, the Colonel took the Captain and the sergeant of the week with him; and the Adjutant-Major, Roustan, who knew our quarters, walked in front and opened all the doors. After seeing nearly everything, the Colonel said:

'And what about the non-commissioned officers?'

'Oh, they are very comfortable,' said the Adjutant-Major Roustan. And he began to open the doors of our rooms.[20]

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 on October 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's cavalry 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 the foire 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.

[CHAPTER III.]

THE RETREAT—REVIEW OF MY KNAPSACK—THE EMPEROR IN DANGER—FROM MOJAISK TO SLAWKOWO.

During the 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 from our 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 Ivan the 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 of our 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 caught sight 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.