"Whose division is that?" Sir Robert asked an officer as they joined the staff.

"It is Prince Eugene's," he replied. "They are pressing us hard now, having driven Doctorow's men out of the covered way, and are massing for an assault on one of the gates."

The fire continued unabated until seven o'clock. Then a messenger came across with the news that the French were drawing off, and that the covered way was being reoccupied. General Wilson was warmly thanked by the Russian commander-in-chief for having silenced the batteries that had threatened the bridges. That evening, when he issued the order for the evacuation of Smolensk, the disaffection with Barclay de Tolly broke out with renewed force, and during the night a body of generals came to Sir Robert Wilson's tent. He was at the time occupied in dictating a despatch to Frank, whom he requested to retire directly he saw the rank of his visitors. As soon as they were alone they said that it had been resolved to send to the Emperor not only the request of the army for a new chief, but a declaration in their own name and that of the troops "that if any order came from St. Petersburg, to suspend hostilities and greet the invaders as friends"—for it had all along been believed that the retrograde movements were the result of the advice of the minister, Count Romanzow—"such an order would be regarded as one that did not express his Imperial Majesty's real sentiments and wishes, but had been extracted from his Majesty under false representations or external control, and that the army would continue to maintain its pledge and to pursue the contest till the invader was driven beyond the frontier."

"We are here, General Wilson," one of the generals said, "to beg you to undertake the delivery of this message to the Emperor. It would mean death to any Russian officer who undertook the commission, but, knowing your attachment to the Emperor, and his equally well-known feelings towards yourself, no person is so well qualified to lay the expression of our sentiments before him. Your motives in doing so cannot be suspected; coming from you, the Emperor's self-respect would not suffer in the same way as it would do, were the message conveyed to him by one of his own subjects."

One after another the generals urged the request.

Sir Robert listened to their arguments, and then said: "This is altogether too grave a matter for me to decide upon hastily. I know thoroughly well that there is no thought of disloyalty in the mind of any of you towards the will of the Emperor, but the act is one of the gravest insubordination, and it is indeed a threat that you will disobey his Majesty's commands in the event of his ordering a suspension of hostilities. As to the conduct of the commander-in-chief, I am not competent to express any opinion whatever, but as a soldier I can understand that this long-continued retreat and the abandonment of so many provinces to the enemy, without striking a single blow in their defence, is trying in the extreme, both to yourselves and your brave soldiers. I shall not leave the army until I see it fairly on the march again, but before I start I will give you my reply."

The generals thanked Sir Robert warmly, and then withdrew.

"I shall write no more to-night, Wyatt," the general said when Frank entered the tent. "I have other grave matters to think about. You had best lie down at once, and get a few hours' sleep. To-morrow is likely to be an eventful day, for the operation of withdrawing the army from this position and getting on to the main road again will be full of peril, and may indeed end in a terrible disaster."

As soon as the Russian army had repulsed the attacks of the French and resumed its march towards Moscow, Sir Robert Wilson left it and proceeded to St. Petersburg, where he had promised the Russian generals to inform the Czar of the opinion and disposition of the army, their dissatisfaction with the general, and their determination to continue the combat and to refuse to recognize any negotiations or armistice that might be made with the enemy.

"I shall leave you here, Wyatt," the General said, on the morning after the desperate defence of Loubino had saved the army. "There is little chance of the French pressing the Russians any further. I think it probable that they may go into winter quarters where they now are; but in any case they cannot hope to outmarch us, and, if they follow, the battle will be in the position the Russians may choose. Even were there more fighting imminent, I should still start to-day for St. Petersburg; I only came round by Smolensk, as you know, because I thought that the Emperor would be found there. My first duty is to see him, and to report to him the arrangements that have been made on the Danube with the Grand Vizier and his people, by which the whole of the Russian army there will be able to join in the defence against the French. As soon as I have done so and explained to his Majesty the position here, I shall rejoin; and I hope the Czar will also be coming down here, for his presence would be most useful—not in the military way, for no men in the world could fight better than the Russians are doing,—but the army fears, above all things, that peace will be made before it has an opportunity of wiping out, what it considers its disgrace, in allowing the French to overrun so many rich provinces without striking a blow.

"In point of fact, the defence of Smolensk, and the way in which some 20,000 men yesterday withstood for hours the assault of three or four times their number, would be sufficient to prove to the world their fighting qualities. In my own mind, I consider that Barclay has acted wisely in declining to hazard the whole fortune of the war upon a single battle against an enemy which, from the first, has outnumbered him nearly threefold, but he should never have taken up his position on the frontier if he did not mean to defend it. Any other army than this would have become a disorganized rabble long ago. There is nothing so trying to troops as to march for weeks hotly chased by an enemy. Three times in the Peninsula we have seen what a British army becomes under far less trying circumstances. If the Russians did but know it, this retreat of theirs, and the admirable manner in which they have maintained their discipline, is as creditable as winning a great victory would be; still one can understand that the sight of this flying population, the deserted fields, this surrender of provinces to an enemy, is mortifying in the highest degree to their pride.

"Nevertheless, Barclay's policy, though I think it has been carried a great deal too far—for with troops who will fight as ours did yesterday he might have fought a dozen battles like that of Loubino, and would have compelled the French to advance slowly instead of in hot pursuit—has been justified to a great extent. From all I hear, the invading army has already suffered very great losses from fever and hardship, the effect of the weather, and from the number of stragglers who have been cut off and killed by the peasantry. Their transport has especially suffered, vast numbers of their horses having died; and in a campaign like this, transport is everything. In the various fights that have taken place since they entered Russia, they have probably suffered a heavier loss than the Russians, as the latter have always fought on the defensive; and the French loss has fallen on Napoleon's best troops, while the Russian army is all equally good.

"Lastly, although the Russians are discontented at their continued retreat, their morale does not seem to have suffered in any way, and it is probable that the long marches, the inability to bring on a general engagement, the distance from home, and the uncertainty about the future has told heavily upon that of the French, who are vastly more susceptible to matters of this kind than are the Russians. You will remain with the headquarter staff, and I wish you, while I am away, to obtain accurate details of the movements of the various columns, and to write a full report every evening of the march and of all matters of interest. I do not want you to forward these to me, but to keep them for future reference. I hope to rejoin before any further fighting takes place."

Sir Robert reached St. Petersburg on the 24th of August, but it was not until ten days later that he saw the Emperor, who had gone with Lord Cathcart, the British Ambassador, to meet the King of Sweden, and to conclude the negotiations that secured his co-operation. The information that General Wilson had brought of the admirable behaviour of the army did much to allay the alarm that prevailed in St. Petersburg; and, after dining with the Emperor on the evening of the arrival of the latter at his capital, he had a long private interview with him. The Emperor had already been made acquainted with the dissatisfaction in the army, and Marshal Kutusow had been sent to replace General Barclay, and he asked Sir Robert whether he thought the new commander would be able to restore subordination and confidence in the army. Sir Robert replied that he had met the marshal, and had informed him of the exact state of things there: that the latter had conjured him to acquaint the Emperor with the fullest details, and in accordance with that request, and in order to prevent his Majesty having the pain of hearing it from the lips of one of his own subjects—who perhaps would be less able to convince him of the intense feeling of loyalty to himself that still prevailed—he had consented to be the mouthpiece of the generals of the army. He then reported to him the interviews that he had had with the general officers, suppressing the names of those present, and the message they had desired him to deliver.

The Emperor was greatly moved. However, the manner in which the general fulfilled the mission with which he was charged, and his assurances that the act of seeming insubordination and defiance of the imperial authority was in no way directed against him, but against his advisers, whom they believed to be acting in the interests of Napoleon, had their effect, and the Emperor promised to give the matter every consideration, and to answer him definitely on the following day. At the next meeting he gave Sir Robert his authority to assure the army of his determination to continue the war against Napoleon while a Frenchman remained in arms on Russian soil, and that, if the worst came to the worst, he would remove his family far into the interior, and make any sacrifice rather than break that engagement. At the same time, while he could not submit to dictation in the matter of his ministers, he could assure them that these should in no way influence him to break this promise.

During Sir Robert's stay in St. Petersburg the Emperor took every occasion to show him marked favour, as if anxious to assure those whose views Sir Robert had represented, that he was in no way displeased with them for the attitude they had assumed; and upon his leaving to rejoin the army the Emperor directed him to repeat in the most formal manner his declaration that he would not enter into or permit any negotiations with Napoleon; and added that he would sooner let his beard grow to his waist, and eat potatoes in Siberia.

Frank had been active during the battle of Loubino. Sir Robert Wilson had taken up his post with Touchkoff during the action which was so desperately fought to cover the retreat of the main army, and Frank had acted as aide-de-camp, and, having carried orders to various parts of the field, had excellent opportunities of seeing the whole of the battle; and the Russian general in making his report of the engagement had mentioned his name among those who had rendered distinguished services. His horse had been shot under him, his cap had been carried away by a bullet, and he had received a slight flesh wound in his leg. Although this was of small consequence, it had caused the insertion of his name among those of the officers wounded in the battle. He was to see no more fighting for a time; for, although the army of Wittgenstein fought two or three severe actions with the divisions of St. Cyr and Oudinot, the main army fell back without again fighting until it took up the position that Marshal Kutusow had selected for giving battle.



CHAPTER XII

BORODINO

Barbarously as the French army behaved on its advance to Smolensk, things were even worse as they left the ruined town behind them and resumed their journey towards Moscow. It seemed that the hatred with which they were regarded by the Russian peasantry was now even more than reciprocated. The destruction they committed was wanton and wholesale; the villages, and even the towns, were burnt down, and the whole country made desolate. It was nothing to them that by so doing they added enormously to the difficulties of their own commissariat; nothing that they were destroying the places where they might otherwise have found shelter on their return. They seemed to destroy simply for the sake of destruction, and to be animated by a burning feeling of hatred for the country they had invaded.

Since the days of the thirty years' war in Germany, never had war been carried on in Europe so mercilessly and so destructively. As he saw the ruined homes or passed the bodies of peasants wantonly shot down, Julian Wyatt regretted bitterly that he had not been content to remain a prisoner at Verdun. Battles he had expected; but this destruction of property, this warring upon peaceful inhabitants, filled him with horror; his high spirits left him, and he no longer laughed and jested on the march, but kept on the way in the same gloomy silence that reigned among the greater part of his companions. When half way to Moscow a fresh cause of uneasiness manifested itself. The Russians no longer left their towns and villages for the French to plunder and burn, but, as they retreated, themselves applied fire to all the houses, with a thoroughness and method which showed that this was not the work of stragglers or camp-followers, but that it was the result of a settled plan. At last news came that the Russians had resolved to fight a pitched battle at Borodino, and the spirits of the army at once rose.

Napoleon halted them for two days, in order that they might rest and receive provisions from the baggage trains following. On the 4th of September they marched forward as before, in three columns, preceded by Murat's cavalry, which brushed aside the hordes of Cossack horse. Half-way to Gratz, a Russian division stoutly held for some time a height up which the road wound, but after some sharp fighting was forced to retreat.

The Russian position at Borodino was a strong one. The right was covered by the rivulet of Kolocza, which was everywhere fordable, but ran through a deep ravine. Borodino, a village on the banks of this rivulet, formed their centre, and their left was posted upon steeply rising ground, almost at right angles with their right. Borodino itself—which lay on the northern side of the Kolocza—was not intended to be held in force. The rivulet fell into the river Moskwa half a mile beyond Borodino. Field-works had been thrown up at several points, and near the centre were two strong redoubts commanding Borodino and the high-road. Other strong works had been erected at important points.



Considerably in advance of the general line of the position a strong work had been erected; this it was necessary to take before the main position could be attacked, and at two in the afternoon of the 5th, Napoleon directed an assault to be made upon this redoubt. It was obstinately held by the Russians. They were several times driven out, but, as often, reinforcements came up, and it was captured by them; and finally, after holding it until nightfall, they fell back to their main position, the loss having been heavy on both sides. The next day was spent by Napoleon in reconnoitring the Russian position and deciding the plan of attack. Finally he determined to make a strong demonstration against the village of Borodino, and, under cover of this, to launch his whole army upon the Russian left wing. On the morning of the 7th, Napoleon posted himself on an eminence near the village of Chewardino. Near the spot, earthworks were thrown up during the night for the protection of three batteries, each of twenty-four guns. Davoust and Ney were to make a direct attack on the enemy's left. Poniatowski was to endeavour to march through the woods and gain the rear of the Russian position. The rest of the force were to keep the Russian centre and right in check. The Imperial Guard formed the reserve.

On the Russian side Bagration's army formed the left, Beningsen's the centre, and Barclay's the right. The French force numbered about 150,000, the Russian from 80,000 to 90,000. The French had a thousand guns, the Russians 640. At six in the morning of the 7th of September the French batteries opened fire along the whole line, and the Russians at once replied. The roar of artillery was incessant, and ere long the rattle of musketry swelled the din, as Davoust launched the division of Desaix, and Ney that of Campans, against three small redoubts in front of the Russian position. Impetuous as was the assault, the Russians received it with unflinching courage; two of the Russian generals were wounded, but the assault was repulsed. Ney moved up another division, and after severe fighting the redoubts were carried. They were held, however, but a short time, for Woronzow led forward his grenadiers in solid squares, and, supporting the advance by a charge of cavalry, recaptured them, and drove the French back across the ravine in front of them.

There was now a short pause in the attack, but the roar of artillery and musketry continued unbroken. Poniatowski now emerged from the wood, and fell upon the Russian left rear, capturing the village of Outitska. Touchkoff, a brother of the general who had been captured at Loubino, who commanded here, fell back to a height that dominated the village and the ground beyond it, and maintained himself until mid-day. On the French left, where the Viceroy Beauharnois commanded, the advance was stubbornly opposed, and the French artillery was several times silenced by the guns on the eminence. At last, however, the Russians were driven across the rivulet, and the French occupied Borodino. Leaving a division of infantry to protect his rear, the Viceroy crossed the stream and advanced against a great battery in front of the village of Gorki. Davoust and Ney remained motionless until nine o'clock, as Napoleon would not forward the reinforcements they had asked for until he learned that Poniatowski had come into action, and that the Viceroy had crossed the stream and was moving to the attack of the Russian centre. Now, reinforced by the division of Friant, they moved forward.

For an hour the Russians held their advanced works, and then were forced to fall back; and the French, following up their advantage, crossed a ravine and occupied the village of Semianotsky, which had been partially destroyed on the previous day by the Russians, so that if captured it would afford no cover to the French. It was but for a short time that the latter held it. Coming up at the head of his grenadiers, Touchkoff drove them out, recrossed the ravine, and recaptured the advance works they had before so obstinately contested. In turn the French retook the three redoubts; but, again, a Russian division coming up wrested the position from them, and replanted their flag there. Napoleon, seeing that no impression could be made on the Russian left, now sent orders to the Viceroy to carry the great redoubt before Gorki. In spite of the difficulties presented by the broken ground, the three French divisions pressed forward with the greatest gallantry, and, heedless of the storm of grape poured upon them, stormed the redoubt. But its late defenders, reinforced by some battalions from Doctorow's corps, dashed forward to recover the position, and fell with such fury upon the French that the regiment that had entered the redoubt was all but annihilated, and the position regained, while at the same moment two regiments of Russian cavalry fell upon reinforcements pressing forward to aid the defenders, and threw them into disorder.

The Viceroy now opened fire on the redoubt with all his artillery, inflicting such loss upon the defenders that it was soon necessary to relieve them with a fresh division. Ney, finding it impossible to carry and hold the three redoubts in front of him, directed Junot to endeavour to force his way between the main Russian left and Touchkoff's division; but he was met by Prince Eugene's Russian corps, which brought his advance to a standstill. Junot's presence there, however, acted as a support to Poniatowski, who, covered by the fire of forty pieces of cannon, advanced against Touchkoff's division. For a time he gained ground, but the Russian general, bringing up all his troops, assumed the offensive, and, driving Poniatowski back, recovered the lost ground. The brave Russian leader, however, was mortally wounded in the fight. It was now twelve o'clock, and so far the French had gained no advantage. Napoleon felt the necessity for a decisive effort, and concentrating his whole force, and posting 400 guns to cover the advance, sent it forward against the Russian left.

The Russians, perceiving the magnitude of the movement, despatched large reinforcements to the defenders, and at the same time, to effect a diversion, sent the greater portion of their cavalry round to menace the French rear at Borodino. Three hundred Russian guns opposed the four hundred of the French, and amidst the tremendous roar of the guns, the great mass of French infantry hurled themselves upon the Russians. For a time no impression could be made, so sternly and fiercely did the Russians fight, but Bagration, their commander, with several other generals, were badly wounded and forced to retire. Konownitsyn assumed the command, but the loss of the general, in whom they placed implicit confidence, told upon the spirits of his troops, and Konownitsyn was forced to abandon the three redoubts, and to take up a new position behind Semianotsky, where he re-established his batteries and checked the progress of the enemy.

A portion of the French cavalry now made a desperate attempt to break through the Russian left, but two regiments of the Imperial Guard, throwing themselves into squares, maintained their position until five regiments of Russian cuirassiers came up and forced their assailants back. At this critical moment the great mass of Russian cavalry that had been sent round to attack the Viceroy fell upon his rear, drove his cavalry into the village with great loss, and pressed the infantry so hard that the Viceroy himself had to take refuge in one of his squares. Having thus succeeded in distracting the enemy's attention, arresting his tide of battle, and giving time to the Russians to reform and plant their batteries afresh, the Russian cavalry withdrew. The Viceroy recrossed the stream again, and prepared to make another attack upon the great bastion he had before captured, and the whole line again advanced. While the Viceroy attacked the great redoubt in front, Murat sent a division of his cavalry round to fall upon its rear, and, although swept by artillery and infantry fire, the brave horsemen carried out their object, although almost annihilated by the fire of the defenders of the redoubt.

The French infantry took advantage of the attention of the defenders being diverted by this attack, and with a rush stormed the work; the four Russian regiments who held it fought to the last, refusing all offers of quarter, and maintaining a hand-to-hand conflict until annihilated. The Russian artillery, in the works round Gorki, swept the redoubt with their fire, and under its cover the infantry made repeated but vain attacks to recapture it, for their desperate bravery was unavailing against the tremendous artillery fire concentrated upon them, while the French on their part were unable to take advantage of the position they had gained. Napoleon, indeed, would have launched his troops against the works round Gorki, but his generals represented to him that the losses had already been so enormous, that it was doubtful whether he could possibly succeed, and if he did so, it could only be with such further loss as would cripple the army altogether.

At three o'clock Napoleon, whose whole army, with the exception of the Imperial Guard, had been engaged, felt that nothing further could be done that day, and ordered the battle to cease. He had gained the three redoubts on the Russians' left and the great redoubt captured by the Viceroy, but these were really only advanced works, and the main position of the Russians still remained entirely intact. At night the French retired from the positions they had won, to those they had occupied before the battle begun, retaining possession only of the village of Borodino. The loss of the combatants during the two days' fighting had been nearly equal, no less than 40,000 men having been killed on each side, a number exceeding that of any other battle in modern times. Napoleon expected that the Russians would again give battle next morning, but Kutusow, contrary to the opinion of most of his generals, decided on falling back. Beningsen, one of his best officers, strongly urged him to take up a position at Kalouga, some seventy miles to the south of Moscow. The position was a very strong one. Napoleon could not advance against Moscow, which was in a position to offer a long and determined resistance, until he had driven off the Russian army. At Kalouga they could at any moment advance on to his line of communication, cut off all his supplies, and isolate him from France.

The advice was excellent, but Kutusow, who was even more unfitted than Barclay for the post of commander-in-chief, refused to adopt this course, and fell back towards Moscow, followed by the French. The sufferings of the latter had already become severe—the nights were getting very cold, the scarcity of food was considerable, the greater part of the army was already subsisting on horse-flesh, the warm clothing, which was becoming more and more necessary, was far in the rear, their shoes were worn out, and it was only the thought that they would have a long period of rest and comfort in Moscow, that animated them to press forward along the fifty miles of road between Borodino and that city.

Julian had passed through the terrible battle unscathed. It seemed to him, when fighting had ceased for the day, that it was almost miraculous a single man should have survived that storm of fire. While the fight had actually been going on, the excitement and the ardour of battle had rendered him almost insensible to the danger. With the soldiers as with their generals the capture of the three small redoubts became, as the day went on, a matter on which every thought was bent, every energy concentrated; it was no longer a battle between French and Russians, but a struggle in which each man felt that his personal honour was concerned. Each time that, with loud cheering, they stormed the blood-stained works, they felt the pride of victory; each time that, foot by foot, they were again forced backwards, there was rage in every heart and a fierce determination to return and conquer.

In such a struggle as this, when men's passions are once involved, death loses its terror; thickly as comrades may fall around, those who are still erect heed not the gaps, but with eyes fixed on the enemy in front of him, with lips set tightly together, with head bent somewhat down as men who struggle through a storm of rain, each man presses on until a shot strikes him, or he reaches the goal he aims at. At such a time the fire slackens, for each man strives to decide the struggle, with bayonet or clubbed musket. Four times did Julian's regiment climb the side of the ravine in front of the redoubts, four times were they hurled back again with ever-decreasing numbers, and when at last they found themselves, as the fire slackened, masters of the position, the men looked at each other as if waking from some terrible dream, filled with surprise that they were still alive and breathing, and faint and trembling, now that the exertion was over and the tremendous strain relaxed. When they had time to look round, they saw that but one-fourth of those who had, some hours before, advanced to the attack of the redoubt of Chewardino remained. The ground around the little earthworks was piled thickly with dead Frenchmen and Russians, and ploughed up by the iron storm that had for eight hours swept across it. Dismounted guns, ammunition boxes, muskets, and accoutrements were scattered everywhere. Even the veterans of a hundred battles had never witnessed such a scene, had never gone through so prolonged and terrible a struggle. Men were differently affected, some shook a comrade's hand with silent pressure, some stood gazing sternly and fixedly at the lines where the enemy still stood unconquered, and tears fell down many a bronzed and battle-worn face; some sobbed like children, exhausted by their emotions rather than their labours.

The loss of the officers had been prodigious. Eight generals were killed and thirty wounded, and nearly two thousand officers. The colonel and majors of Julian's regiment had fallen, and a captain, who was but sixth on the list when the battle began, now commanded. Between three o'clock and dusk the men were engaged in binding up each other's wounds, eating what food they carried in their haversacks, and searching for more in those of the fallen. Few words were spoken, and even when the order came to evacuate the position and retire to the ground they had left that morning, there was not a murmur; for the time no one seemed to care what happened, or what became of him. Once on the ground where they were to bivouac, fresh life was infused into their veins. The chill evening air braced up their nerves; great fires were lighted with brushwood, broken cartridge-boxes, and the fragments of gun-carriages and waggons; and water was brought up from the stream. Horse-flesh was soon being roasted, and as hunger and thirst were appeased, the buzz of conversation rose round the fires, and the minds as well as the tongues of men seemed to thaw from their torpor.

"Well, comrade, so you too have gone through it without a scratch," Julian's friend, the sergeant, said to him. "Well, you will never see such a fight again if you grow gray in the service. Where are those who scoffed at the Russians now? They can fight, these men. It was a battle of giants. No one could have done more than we did, and yet they did as much; but to-morrow we shall win."

"What! do you think we shall fight again to-morrow?"

"That is for the Russians to say, not for us. If they stand we must fight them again. It is a matter of life and death for us to get to Moscow. We shall win to-morrow, for Napoleon will have to bring up the Imperial Guard, 20,000 of his best troops, and the Russians put their last man into the line of battle to-day, and, never fear, we shall win. But I own I have had enough of it. Never before have I hoped that the enemy in front of us would go off without a battle, but I do so now. We want rest and quiet. When spring comes we will fight them again as often as they like, but until then I for one do not wish to hear a gun fired."

"I am sure I do not, sergeant," Julian agreed; "and I only hope that we shall get peace and quiet when we reach Moscow."

"Oh, the Russians will be sure to send in to ask for terms of peace as soon as we get there," the sergeant said confidently.

"I hope so, but I have great doubts, sergeant. When people are ready to burn their homes rather than that we should occupy them, to desert all that they have and to wander away they know not where, when they will fight as they fought to-day, I have great doubts whether they will talk of surrender. They can bring up fresh troops long before we can. They will have no lack of provisions. Their country is so vast that they know that at most we can hold but a small portion of it. It seems to me that it is not of surrender they will be thinking, but of bringing up fresh troops from every part of their empire, of drilling and organizing and preparing for the next campaign. I cannot help thinking of what would happen to us if they burnt Moscow, as they have burned half a dozen towns already."

"No people ever made such a sacrifice. What, burn the city they consider sacred!—the old capital every Russian thinks of with pride! It never can be, but if they should do so, all I can say is, God help us all. Few of us would ever go back to France."

"So it seems to me, sergeant. I have been thinking of it lately, and after the way in which the Russians came on, careless of life, under the fire of our cannon to-day, I can believe them to be capable of anything."

The next morning it was found that the Russian lines were deserted. So the French army set forward again on its march, and on the morning of the 14th arrived within sight of Moscow. Kutusow had at one time seemed disposed to fight another battle in front of the city, and had given a solemn promise to its governor that he should have three days' notice of any change in his determination, and so allow time for him to carry out his intention to evacuate the town, when the municipal authorities were, methodically and officially, to proceed to destroy the whole city by fire. This promise Kutusow broke without giving any notice whatever. On the 13th, at a council of war, he overruled the objections of his generals, and determined to retreat, his arguments being that the ground was unsuited for defensive operations; that the defeat of the one disciplined army would endanger the final success of the war; and that it was for Russia, not for any one city, they were fighting.

The argument was not without reason; but, if he had resolved not to fight again, he should have accepted the advice to take up a position on Napoleon's flank. Had he done this, the French could have made no advance, and Moscow would have been saved from destruction.

As the army began its passage through the capital the exodus of the inhabitants commenced. Already the wealthier classes had removed their effects, and the merchants the greater part of their goods. Now the whole population poured out into the streets, and thousands of carts and vehicles of all descriptions, packed closely with household furniture, goods, and effects of all kinds, moved towards the gates. Out of 200,000 inhabitants 180,000 left the city, with 65,000 vehicles of every kind. In addition to these were enormous quantities of fugitives from every town and village west of Smolensk, who had hitherto accompanied the army, moving through the fields and lanes, so as to leave the roads unencumbered for the passage of the guns and trains.

Every Russian peasant possesses a roughly-made cart on two or four wheels, and as their belongings were very scanty, these, as a rule, sufficed to hold all their property. The greater portion of the fugitives had passed out of the city at two o'clock in the afternoon, and shortly afterwards Murat with his cavalry passed across the river by a ford and entered the town. A few desperate men left behind opened fire, but were speedily overpowered and killed, but a number of citizens, mad with fury, rushed so furiously upon Murat and his staff, that he was obliged to open fire upon them with a couple of light guns.

At three o'clock Napoleon arrived with his guards, expecting to be met on his arrival by the authorities of the city with assurances of their submission and prayers for clemency for the population. He was astounded with the silence that reigned everywhere, and at hearing that Moscow had been evacuated by the population. Full of gloomy anticipations he proceeded to the house Murat had selected for him. Strict orders were issued against pillage, and the army bivouacked outside the city. The troops, however, were not to be restrained, and as soon as it was dark stole away and entered the town in large numbers and began the work of pillage. Scarcely had they entered when in various quarters fires broke out suddenly. The bazaar, with its ten thousand shops, the crown magazines of forage, wines, brandy, military stores, and gunpowder were speedily wrapped in flames. There were no means of combating the fire, for every bucket in the town had been removed by the orders of the governor.

Many a tale of strange experience in all parts of Europe was told around the camp-fires of the grenadiers of the Rhone that evening. Several of the younger men had been among those who had gone into Moscow in search of plunder. They had returned laden with goods of all sorts, and but few without a keg of spirits. The colonel had foreseen this, and had called the sergeants together.

"My braves," he said, "I am not going to punish anyone for breaking orders to-night. If I had been carrying a musket myself I have no doubt that I should have been one of those to have gone into the town. After such a march as we have had here, it is only natural that men should think that they are entitled to some fun; but there must be no drunkenness. I myself shall be at the quarter-guard, and six of you will be there with me. Every bottle of spirits brought in is to be confiscated. You will take it in your charge, and serve out a good ration to every man in the regiment, so that those who have done their duty and remained in camp shall fare as well as those who have broken out. I have no doubt there will be sufficient brought in for all. What remains over, you can serve out as a ration to-morrow. It is good to be merry, but it is not good to be drunk. The grenadiers have done their share of fighting and deserve their share of plunder, but do not let pleasure go beyond the line of duty. Give a good ration to each man, enough to enjoy the evening, and to celebrate our capture of Moscow, but not enough to make them noisy. It is like enough that the general will be round to-night to see how things are going on, and I should wish him to see us enjoying ourselves reasonably. Anything else that is brought in, with the exception of spirits, can be kept by the men, unless of course there is a general order issued that all plunder is to be given up."

As fully half the regiment were away, and as every man brought back one or more bottles or kegs of spirits, the amount collected at the quarter-guard was very considerable. Those of the men who, on coming back, showed any signs of intoxication were not allowed a share, but half a litre of spirits was served out to every other man in the regiment; and although a few of those who had brought it in grumbled, the colonel's decision gave general satisfaction, and there were merry groups round the bivouac fires.

"I have marched into a good many capitals," the old sergeant said. "I was with the first company that entered Madrid. I could never make out the Spaniards. At one time they are ready to wave their hats and shout "Viva!" till they are hoarse. At another, cutting your throat is too good for you. One town will open its gates and treat you as their dearest friends, the next will fight like fiends and not give in till you have carried the last house at the point of the bayonet. I was fond of a glass in those days; I am fond of it now, but I have gained wit enough to know when it is good to drink. I had a sharp lesson, and I took it to heart."

"Tell us about it, comrade," Julian said.

"Well it was after Talavera. We had fought a hard battle there with the English, and found them rough customers. The Spaniards bolted like sheep. As soldiers, they are the most contemptible curs in the world. They fought well enough in the mountains under their own leaders, but as soldiers, why, our regiment would thrash an army of 15,000 of them. The English were on the top of the hill—at least at the beginning there were a few of them up there, and we thought that it would be an easy job to drive them off, but more came up, and do what we would, we could not manage it; so it ended with something like a drawn battle. We claimed the victory, because they fell back the next morning, and they claimed it because they had repulsed all our attacks. However, we reaped the benefit; they really fell back, because those rascally Spaniards they were fighting for, starved them; and, besides that, we had two other divisions marching to interpose between them and Portugal, and that old fox Wellington saw that unless he went off as fast as he could, he would be caught in a trap.

"They got a good start of us, but we followed, and three nights after Talavera two companies of us were quartered for the night in the village right out on the flank of the line we were following. Well, I got hold of a skin of as good wine as ever I drank. Two or three of us stole out to enjoy it quietly and comfortably, and so thoroughly did we do it, that I suppose I somehow mistook my way back to my quarters, wandered aside, and then lay down to sleep. I must have slept soundly, for I heard neither bugle nor drum. When I awoke the sun was high, and there was a group of ugly-looking Spaniards standing near me. I tried to jump up on to my feet, but found that my arms and legs were both tied. However, I managed to sit up and looked round. Not a sign of our uniform was there to be seen; but a cloud of dust rising from the plain, maybe ten miles away, showed where the army had gone.

"Well, I gave it up at once. A single French soldier had never found mercy at the hands of the Spaniards, and I only wondered that they had not cut my throat at once, instead of taking the trouble to fasten me up. I knew enough of their language to get along with, and, putting as bold a face as I could on it, I asked them what they had tied me up for. They laughed in an unpleasant sort of way, and then went away. 'Let me have a drink of water,' I said, for my throat was nearly as dry as a furnace. They paid no attention, and till sunset left me there in the full heat of the sun. By the time they came back again I was half mad with thirst. I supposed then, as I have supposed ever since, that they did not cut my throat at once, because they were afraid that some other detachment might come along, and that if they found my body or a pool of blood, they would, as like as not, burn the village over their heads. Anyhow at sunset four men came, cut the ropes from my feet, and told me to follow them. I said that I would follow willingly enough if they would give me a drink of water first, but that if they didn't they might shoot me if they liked, but not a step would I walk.

"They tried kicking and punching me with their guns, but finding that I was obstinate, one of them called to a woman down by the village to bring some water. I drank pretty near a bucketful, and then said I was ready to go on. We went up the hill and then on some ten miles to a village standing in the heart of a wild country. Here I was tied to a post. Two of them went away and returned in a few minutes with a man they called El Chico. I felt before that I had not much chance, but I knew now that I had none at all, for the name was well enough known to us as that of one of the most savage of the guerilla leaders. He abused me for ten minutes, and told me that I should be burnt alive next morning, in revenge for some misconduct or other of a scouting party of ours. I pointed out that as I was not one of that scouting party it was unfair that I should be punished for their misdeeds; but, of course, it was of no use arguing with a ruffian like that, so he went away, leaving me to my reflections.

"I stood all night with my back to that post. Two fellows with muskets kept guard over me, but even if they hadn't done so I could not have got away, for I was so tightly bound that my limbs were numbed, and the cords felt as if they were red hot. In the morning a number of women brought up faggots. El Chico himself superintended their arrangement, taking care that they were placed in a large enough circle round me that the flames would not touch me; so that, in fact, I should be slowly roasted instead of burned. I looked about in the vague hope one always has that something might occur to save me, and my heart gave a jump when I saw a large body of men coming rapidly down a slope on the other side of the village. They were not our men, I was sure, but I could not see who they were; anyhow there might be someone among them who would interpose to save me from this villain.

"Everyone round me was too interested in what was going on to notice anything else; and you may be sure that I did not look that way again, for I knew well enough that if the guerilla had noticed them he would shoot me at once rather than run any risk of being baulked of his vengeance. So it was not until they began to enter the village that anyone noticed the new arrivals. A mounted officer, followed by four troopers, dashed down ahead and rode up to us, scattering the crowd right and left. I saw at once by his uniform that he was an English officer, and knew that I was saved. I fancy I must have been weak, for I had had nothing to eat the day before, and had been tied up all night. For a time I think I really fainted. When I recovered some soldiers had cut my bonds, and one was pouring some spirits down my throat. The English officer was giving it hot to El Chico.

"'You dog!' he said, 'it is you, and the fellows like you, who bring discredit on your country. You run like sheep when you see a French force under arms. You behave like inhuman monsters when, by chance, a single man falls into your power. I have half a mind to put you against that wall there and have you shot; or, what would meet your deserts better, hang you to yonder tree. Don't finger that pistol, you scoundrel, or I will blow your brains out. Be off with you, and thank your stars I did not arrive ten minutes later; for if I had come too late to save this poor fellow's life, I swear to you that I would have hung you like a dog. Who is the head man of the village?'"

A man stepped forward.

"'What do you mean, sir,' said the officer sternly, 'by permitting this villain to use your village for his atrocities? As far as I can see you are all as bad as he is, and I have a good mind to burn the whole place over your ears. As it is, I fine the village 800 gallons of wine, and 4000 pounds of flour, and 10 bullocks. See that it is all forthcoming in a quarter of an hour, or I shall set my men to help themselves. Not a word! Do as you are ordered!'

"Then he dismounted, and was coming to me, when his eye fell on El Chico. 'Sergeant,' he said to a non-commissioned officer,' take four men and march that fellow well outside the village, and then stand and watch him; and see that he goes on, and if he doesn't, shoot him.' Then he came over to me. 'It is well that I arrived in time, my lad,' he said in French.' How did you get into this scrape?'

"'It was wine did it, sir. I drank too much at our bivouac in a village down the plain, and did not hear the bugles in the morning, and got left behind. When I awoke they had tied me up, and they kept me lying in the sun all day, not giving me as much as a drop of water. At sunset they marched me up here and tied me to that post, and El Chico told me that I should be roasted in the morning; and so it certainly would have been if you had not come up.

"I learned that he was a Colonel Trant. He commanded a force of Portuguese, and was a daring partizan leader, and gave us a great deal of trouble. I was never more pleased than I was at seeing the disgust of those villagers as they paid the fine imposed on them, and I should imagine that when El Chico paid his next visit there, his reception would not be a cordial one. The brigade had been marching all night, and halted for six hours, and the bullocks, flour, and wine furnished them with a good meal all round. It was an hour or two before I was able to stand, but after a while the circulation got right, and I was able to accompany them when they marched. They did not know until I told them that our force had passed on ahead of them in pursuit of Wellington. I made no secret of that, for they would have heard it from the first peasant they met. When we started, the colonel asked me what I meant to do.

"'I don't want to keep you prisoner, my man,' he said. 'In the first place, I don't wish to be troubled with looking after you; and in the second, you cannot be considered as a prisoner of war, for you were unarmed and helpless when we found you. Now, we are going to march all night. I am not going to tell where we are going; but I think it likely that we shall pass within sight of your camp-fires, and in that case I will leave you to make your way down to them, and will hand you back your musket and pouch, which you may want if you happen to fall in with a stray peasant or two.'

"I had noticed that they had taken along my musket and pouch, which had been brought up by the fellows that guarded me. They were strapped on to a mule's pack, of which they had about a couple of dozen with them, but I little thought the gun was going to be given me again.

"'Monsieur le Colonel,' I said, 'I thank you from my heart. I should have felt disgraced for ever if I were to go into the camp unarmed. Now, I shall be able to go in with my head erect, and take my punishment for having got drunk, and failing to fall in at the assembly, like a man. On the honour of a French soldier, I swear that I shall for ever regard the English as the most generous of foes.'

"It was noon when we started, and at nine o'clock at night, as we were keeping along high up on the hills, I saw our bivouac fires. A minute or two later, the colonel rode up.

"'There are your fires, lad,' he said. 'I don't fancy there is any village between us and the spot where your people are encamped. However, as there is a moon, you will be able to avoid one if you come upon it; and seeing you are armed, any peasants you may meet will scarcely venture to attack you within musket-shot of your own lines. Here is a note I have written to the colonel of your regiment telling him of the plight I found you in, and expressing a hope that what you have gone through may be considered a sufficient punishment for your indulgence in too much wine. Good-night.'

"Well, I got down safely enough. Of course, when I got to our line of pickets, I was challenged, and sent in a prisoner. In the morning I was taken before the colonel. He rated me soundly. I can tell you. When he had finished, I saluted and handed him the note. He read it through, and handed it to the major.

"'A letter from the enemy,' he said. 'It is from Trant, who must be a good fellow as well as a brave soldier, as we know to our cost. Tell me more about this, Rignold.'

"I told him.

"'I agree with the Englishman,' he said. 'You have had a lesson that will last you all your life. I wish I had means of sending an answer back to this English colonel, thanking him for his generous treatment. If he ever falls into our hands, I will take care that this action of his shall be brought to the general's notice. You can go.'

"Well, you see, that lesson has lasted all my life; and I am certainly not likely to forget it here, where the peasants are every bit as savage as the Spaniards. But as for the English, though I have fought with them half a dozen times since, and have been beaten by them too, I have always had a liking for them. That was one reason why I took to you, youngster, from the first."

"They fight well, do they?" one of the other sergeants asked. "I never was in Spain, but I thought from the bulletins that we generally beat them."

"Bulletins!" growled Rignold, "who can believe bulletins? We have got so accustomed to writing bulletins of victory that when we do get thrashed we can't write in any other strain. Why, I tell you that we who have fought and conquered in Italy and Austria, in Prussia and on the Rhine, have learned to acknowledge among ourselves, that even our best troops were none too good when it came to fighting the English. I fought a dozen battles against them, and in not one of them could I honestly say that we got the best of it. Talavera was the nearest thing. But we were fairly thrashed at Busaco and Salamanca. Albuera we claimed as a drawn fight, but such a drawn fight I never wish to share in again. The day had been going well. The Spaniards of course bolted, horse and foot. But at last matters cleared up, and we advanced against them in heavy columns. Soult called up all the reserves. We had captured six of their guns. Our columns had crowned the hill they held, and we cheered loudly, believing that the battle was won, when an English brigade in line fell upon us. Our guns swept them with grape, and that so terribly that for a time they fell into confusion. But to our astonishment they rallied, and came down on us. We were four to one, but we were in columns, and strove in vain to form into line to meet them. Volley after volley swept away the head of our formation. Soult exposed himself recklessly. Officers and men ran forward, and we kept up a fire that seemed as if it must destroy them, and yet on they came, cheering incessantly. Never did I see such a thing. Never did any other man there see such a thing. They came down upon us with the bayonet. We strove, we fought like madmen; but it was in vain, and we were hurled down that hill in utter confusion.

"We heard afterwards that of the 6000 British soldiers who began the day, but 1800 stood unwounded at the end. They had with them 24,000 Spaniards, but, of course, we never counted them as anything, and they did their allies more harm than good by throwing them into confusion in their flight. We had 19,000 infantry, all veteran troops, mind you, and yet we could not storm that hill, and drive those 6000 Englishmen off it. We lost over 8000 men, and that in a battle that lasted only four hours. Our regiment suffered so that it was reduced to a third of its number. We fought them again at Salamanca, and got thrashed there; soon after that we were sent back to France to fill up our ranks again, and I for one was glad indeed when we were sent to the Rhine and not back to Spain; for I tell you I never want to meet the English again in battle. Borodino was bad enough, and for stubborn, hard fighting, the Russians have proved themselves as tough customers as one can want to meet; but the English have more dash and quickness. They manoeuvre much more rapidly than do the Russians, and when they charge, you have either got to destroy them or to go."

"You are right there, comrade," another said. "I was with my regiment, the 5th, at Badajoz. It was a strong place. Phillipson, who was in command, was a thoroughly good officer. He had strengthened the defences in every way, and the garrison was 5000 strong. We reckoned we could hold out for three months anyhow. 15,000 men sat down before us on the 17th of March, and began to open trenches against a strong outlying fort. We made several sorties, and did all we could to hinder them, but on the 25th they stormed the fort. It was defended desperately, but in an hour it was all over. Still, that was only an outlying work. Soult was known to be advancing to our relief; but he waited to gather as large a force as possible, believing, reasonably enough, that we could hold out a month, while we still calculated on holding out for three. The English worked like demons, and on the 6th of April they had made two breaches. We had prepared everything for them. We had planted mines all over the breaches. We had scores of powder barrels, and hundreds of shells ready to roll down. We had guns placed to sweep them on both flanks and along the top. We had a stockade of massive beams in which were fixed sword blades, while in front of this the breach was covered with loose planks studded with sharp iron points.

"Every man behind the stockade had half a dozen spare muskets. A legion of devils could not have taken the place. They did not take it, but never did mortal men try harder. Even when they felt that it was absolutely impossible, they stood there amid that storm of shot and shell, exploding powder barrels, and bursting mines. Two thousand men were killed in that breach, and yet they still stood there. Our own triumph was but a short one, for another British division had carried the castle. While we were exulting in victory, the town was lost. Thus, you see, they had in twenty days captured the fortress that we and everyone else made sure we could defend for at least three months. Fortunately we were exchanged a short time afterwards, and so I escaped being sent to an English prison. I agree with you, Rignold. I am ready to do my share of fighting, but I would rather do it against any one, even against these Russians, than against the English; and I think you will find that every man who has served in Spain would say the same."

"After all, comrades," another veteran said, "it seems to me that it does not make much difference who you have got to fight against, for you see the generals make things about even. If one of our generals finds that there are say 50,000 Spaniards marching against him, while his force is only 10,000, he gives battle. Well, he won't give battle to 50,000 Austrians unless he has got something like 35,000. I should say that after Borodino he would like to have 40,000, at least, against 50,000 Russians. No doubt the English calculate the same way, and, in Spain, we must admit that we always found them ready to fight when, as far as numbers went, we outmatched them. So I take it that the difference between the fighting powers of armies is not felt so much as you would think by each soldier, because allowance for that is made by the generals on both sides, and the soldiers find themselves always handicapped just in proportion to their fighting powers. So you see there is a big element of luck in it. The question of ground comes in, and climate, and so on. Now, taking Spain, though 10,000 against 50,000 would be fair enough odds in a fight in the open, if a hundred of us were attacked by 500 Spaniards among the mountains, it would go very hard with us. And, again, though 1000 Frenchmen might repulse 3000 of those Mamelukes if they attacked us in the cool of the morning or in the evening, yet if we were caught in the middle of the day, with the sun blazing down, and parched with thirst, we might succumb. Then, of course, the question of generals counts for a great deal. So you see that even supposing both sides agree, as it were, as to the fighting powers of their troops, the element of luck counts for a lot, and before you begin to fight you can never feel sure that you are going to win."

"Well, but we do win almost everywhere, Brison."

"Yes, yes; because we have Napoleon and Ney and Soult and the rest of them. We have had to fight hard many and many a time, and if the battle had been fought between the same armies with a change of generals, things would have gone quite differently to what they did."

"You were with Napoleon in Egypt, were you not?" Julian asked.

"Yes, I was there; and, bad as this desolate country is, I would anyhow rather campaign here than in Egypt. The sun seems to scorch into your very brain, and you are suffocated by dust. Drink as much as you will, you are always tormented by thirst. It is a level plain, for the most part treeless, and with nothing to break the view but the mud villages, which are the same colour as the soil. Bah! we loathed them. And yet I ought not to say anything against the villages, for, if it had not been for one of them, I should not be here now. I will tell you the tale. Two hundred of us had been despatched to seize some of the leading sheiks, who were said to be holding a meeting in some place fifteen miles away from where we were encamped. We had a squadron of horse and a hundred of our men. We afterwards found that the whole story was a lie, invented to get us into a trap. We were guided by a villainous-looking rogue on a camel, and beyond the fact that we were marching south-east, we had no idea where we were going. Half the cavalry kept ahead. We had marched four hours, when, on coming on to the crest of one of the sand-hills, we saw about half a mile away a little clump of mud huts. Near the foot of some high hills to the right were some tents.

"'There it is,' the guide said, pointing to the tents. And the cavalry set off at a gallop, followed by the guide, who soon fell far into their rear. Just as the cavalry reached the tents, we saw two great masses of horsemen appear from behind the sand-hills on either flank, and with loud yells ride down upon them. With a shout of fury we were about to break into a run, but the major who was in command said, 'It is useless, comrades. There is but one hope. Make for that village. We can hold that; and there, if any of our comrades escape, they will find shelter. Double, march.' Off we went, but it was against the grain. We could hear the cracking of pistols, the shouts of our brave fellows, the yells of the Arabs, and our hearts were there; but we felt that the major was right. There must have been fully a couple of thousand of the Arabs, and we should have but thrown away our lives. It was a terrible run. The heat was stifling; the dust rose in clouds under our feet. We could scarce breathe, but we knew that we were running for life. As we neared the village, we heard yells behind us.

"'A hundred yards further, lads,' the major shouted. We did it, and when we reached the first house we halted. Three hundred yards away were a dozen of our troopers, followed by a mob of Arabs. The Major faced twenty men about, and ordered the rest of us to divide ourselves among the huts. There were but nine of these. The villagers, who had seen us coming, had bolted, and we had just got into the houses when we heard the rear-guard open fire. There was a young lieutenant with the troopers, and, as they rode in, he ordered them to dismount, and to lead their horses into the huts. A moment later the rear-guard ran in. We felt for a moment like rats caught in a trap, for, in the hut I was in, there were but two rooms. One had no light but what came in at the door; the other had an opening of about nine inches square, and that not looking into the street. In a moment, however, we saw that there was a ladder leading up to the flat roof, and we swarmed up. These houses are all built with flat roofs made of clay like the walls. Some of them have a parapet about a foot high; some of them none at all. In better-class villages some of the parapets are a good deal higher; so that the women can sit there unobserved from the other roofs.

"The hut we were in had a low parapet, and we threw ourselves down behind it. The street was full of horsemen, yelling and discharging their guns at the doors; but when, almost at the same moment, a rattling fire broke out from every roof, the scene in the street changed as if by magic. Men fell from their horses in all directions. The horses plunged and struggled, and so terrible was the melee that, had the houses stood touching each other, I doubt whether a man of those who entered would have got out alive. As it was, they rode out through the openings, leaving some sixty or seventy of their number dead in the street. We had breathing time now. The whole of the Arab horsemen presently surrounded us, but the lesson had been so severe that they hesitated to make another charge into the village. The major's orders, that we were not to throw away a shot, unless they charged down in force, were passed from roof to roof round the village. We were ordered to barricade the doors with anything we could find, and if there was nothing else, we were, with our bayonets, to bring down part of the partition walls and pile the earth against the door. Each hut was to report what supply of water there was in it. This was to be in charge of the non-commissioned officer, or the oldest soldier if there was not one, and he was to see that it was not touched at night. It was to be divided equally among all the huts.

"'You will understand, men,' he shouted from his roof, 'that our lives depend more upon the water than upon your arms. We could defend this place against that horde for a year; but if water fails altogether, there will be nothing to do but to sally out and sell our lives as dearly as we can.' Fortunately, we had still water with us, for it was not known whether we should find any on the march, and we had been ordered to leave our kits behind, and to carry, in addition to the water-bottles, a skin holding about a gallon. In our hut we found eight porous jars, each of which would hold about a couple of gallons. Six of them were full. The empty ones we filled up from our skins, for these jars keep the water wonderfully cool. In none of the other huts had they found so good a supply as ours, but all had more or less water; and, on totalling them up, it was found that there was an average of four jars in each hut, without, of course, counting that which we had brought. As there were a hundred and ten of us, this gave a total supply of a hundred and eighty-two gallons; rather better than a gallon and a half a man.

"The major ordered that the allowance was to be a pint night and morning for the first four days. If help did not come at the end of that time, it was to be reduced by half. We could see where the water came from. There was a well-worn path from the village to a hollow about three hundred yards away, and we could see that there was a great hole, and it was down this that the women went to fill their water-jars. It was a consolation to us that it was so close, for, if the worst came to the worst, half of us could go down at night and refill the jars. No doubt they would have to fight their way, but, as the rest could cover them by their fire, we felt that we should be able to manage it. For the next four days we held the place. We slept during the day. The Arabs did not come near us then; but as soon as it got dusk they began to crawl up, and flashes of fire would break out all round us.

"Unfortunately, there was no moon, and as they came up pretty nearly naked, their bodies were so much the colour of the sand that they could not be made out twenty yards away. They were plucky enough, for they would come right in among the houses and fire through the doors, and sometimes a number of them would make a rush against one; but nothing short of bursting the doors into splinters would have given them an entry, so firmly did the piles of earth hold them in their places. In the middle of the fifth day a cloud of dust was seen across the plain from the direction in which we came. No one had a doubt that it was a party sent to our relief, and every man sprang to his feet and swarmed up on to the roof, as soon as the man on watch above told us the news; directly afterwards the major shouted, 'Each man can have a ration of water.'

"In a few minutes we saw the Arabs mount and ride off, and it was not long before five hundred of our cavalry rode into the village. We had only lost five men; all had been shot through the head as they were firing over the parapet. We had each night buried those who fell, and in five minutes after the arrival of the cavalry, were ready to start on our march back. If it had not been for that village, and for the quickness with which the major saw what was the only thing to be done, not a single man would ever have got back to camp to tell what had happened. They were brave fellows, those Arabs; and, if well drilled by our officers, would have been grand troops on such an expedition as this, and would have taught the Cossacks a good many things at their own game.

"The Egyptian infantry were contemptible, but the Arabs are grand horsemen. I don't say that in a charge, however well drilled, they could stand against one of our cuirassier regiments. Men and horses would be rolled over; but for skirmishing, vidette duty, and foraging, no European cavalry would be in it with them. They are tireless, both horses and men, and will go for days on a little water and a handful of dates; and if the horses can get nothing else, they will eat the dates just as contentedly as their masters."

Several times as these stories had been told, the group had risen to their feet to watch the fires that were burning in various parts of the town, and just as the sergeant brought his story to a close, the assembly sounded.

"I have been expecting that for some time," Brison said. "As our division is nearest to the city, I thought they would be sure to turn us out before long, to put out those fires. They must be the work of some of our rascally camp-followers, or of some of the ruffians of the town, who have been breaking into deserted houses and plundering them. Well, the liquor is finished, and there is always interest in fighting a fire."

Five minutes later, the Grenadiers of the Rhone and six other regiments of their division marched into Moscow to extinguish the flames.



CHAPTER XIII

WITH THE REAR-GUARD

Napoleon had as yet no idea that the fires were other than accidental, and the next morning removed his headquarters to the Imperial Palace, the Kremlin, from which he fondly hoped to dictate terms of peace to Russia. But it was not long before the truth became evident. Every hour fresh fires broke out, and, spreading rapidly, by nightfall the whole city was in flames. On the following day the Kremlin itself became so uninhabitable from the heat, that the Emperor was forced to withdraw from it, and could not return till the 20th, when heavy rain extinguished the flames, which had already consumed nine-tenths of the city. Of 48,000 houses only 700 escaped; of 1600 churches 800 were destroyed and 700 damaged; of 24,000 wounded French and Russians in the hospitals more than 20,000 perished in the flames. In the meantime Kutusow had tardily adopted the advice he had before rejected, had moved round with his army and taken up his position on the Oka river, near Kulouga, where he menaced the French line of communication. Already the Cossack cavalry were hovering round Moscow, intercepting convoys and cutting up small detachments, while the horses of the French cavalry were so worn out by fatigue and famine that in several affairs with the Russian cavalry the latter gained decisive advantages.

"You are right again, comrade," the old sergeant said to Julian, who had been promoted to the rank of sergeant after the battle of Borodino, as they stood together on the night of the 15th gazing at the terrible spectacle of the city enveloped in flames. "Peste! these Russians are terrible fellows. Who could have thought of such a thing? It is a bad look-out for us."

"A terrible look-out, there is no denying it," Julian agreed. "It is impossible for the army to stay here without food, without forage, without shelter, with our communications threatened, and the Russian army on our flank. I see nothing for it but to retreat, and the sooner we are out of it the better. Were I the Emperor I would issue orders for the march to begin at daylight. In another month winter will be on us, and none can say what disasters may befall the army."

Had the order been given that day the French army might have made its way back to the frontier, with heavy loss doubtless, but without disaster. But Napoleon could not bring himself to believe that the Russians would refuse to enter into negotiations. He tried through various sources to send proposals to Alexander, and even opened secret negotiations with Kutusow, and had arranged for a private meeting with him, when the matter was stopped by Sir Robert Wilson, who had received specific instructions from the Emperor Alexander to interpose in his name to prevent any negotiations whatever being carried on. Thus week after week of precious time passed, and then a portion of the army moved against the Russians. Several engagements took place, the advantage generally resting with the Russians, especially in an engagement with Murat, who suffered a decisive repulse.

Julian had, as soon as the fire in Moscow burnt itself out, employed himself in endeavouring to buy some warm garments. Money was plentiful, for there had been no means of spending it since they entered Russia, and he was fortunate in being able to buy some very warm tinder-garments that had been looted by the plunderers on the night of their first arrival before Moscow. He also purchased a peasant's sheep-skin caftan with a hood, and sewed this into his military cloak so as to form a lining, the hood being for the time turned inside. From another sheep-skin he manufactured a couple of bags to be used as mittens, without fingers or thumbs. Many of his comrades laughed at him as he did his work, but as the days grew colder most of them endeavoured to follow his example, and the skins of sheep brought in occasionally by the cavalry were eagerly bought up. Encouraged by his success, Julian next manufactured a pair of sheep-skin leggings, with the wool inside. They were sewn up at the bottom, so that they could be worn over his boots. The shape left much to be desired, but by cutting up a blanket he made two long bands, each three inches wide and some twenty feet long. These he intended to wrap tightly round the leggings when in use.

The leggings, gloves, and bands were stowed away in his knapsack, almost everything else being discarded to make room for them; for he felt sure that there would be no inspection of kits until the frontier had been crossed.

Still, Napoleon could not bring himself to issue a general order for a retreat, but corps after corps was moved along the western road. Mortier's division remained last in Moscow, and marched on the 23rd of October, after having, by Napoleon's orders, blown up the Kremlin, the Church of St. Nicholas, and the adjoining buildings. The safest line of retreat would have been through Witebsk, but Napoleon took the more southern road, and the army believed that it was intended to fight another great battle with the Russians.

The weather at first was fine. On the 24th the vanguard, under the Viceroy, came in contact with Doctorow's division, and a fierce fight took place near Malo Jaroslavets. The French were checked, and Kutusow, coming up with the main army, it was apparent to all, that the French vanguard could be overwhelmed and Napoleon's retreat brought to a standstill. But, just as the generals were all expecting the order to attack, Kutusow, whose previous conduct in entering into secret negotiations with Napoleon had excited strong suspicions of his good faith, announced that he had changed his mind, and ordered the Russian army to draw off, thus for a time saving the French from complete disaster.

The battle, however, had been a sanguinary one, no less than ten thousand being killed on each side. After the retirement of the Russians the retreat was continued. Davoust commanded the advance; Ney's division was to cover the rear. The French army at first moved very slowly, for it was not until the 29th that Napoleon reached Borodino. He himself had long been in ill-health; bodily pain had sapped his energy. He had for a long time been unable to sit on a horse, and had travelled in a close carriage. Consequently he seemed to have lost for a time all his energy and quickness of decision, and after five weeks thrown away at Moscow, another was wasted in slow movements when haste was of the greatest importance. The French suffered, too, from the disadvantage that, while their every movement was discovered and reported by the ubiquitous Cossacks, they themselves were in absolute ignorance of the strength and movements of the enemy.

On the 6th of November a bitter frost set in, and the soldiers awoke chilled to the bone, and with gloomy anticipations of what would happen when the full rigour of a Russian winter was upon them. In some respects the frost was an advantage, for it hardened the roads, that were before often almost impassable from the amount of heavy traffic that had passed over them. But, upon the other hand, floating masses of ice speedily covered the rivers, rendering the work of fording them painful and difficult in the extreme. A Russian division had, on the 3rd, pressed hotly on the retreating column just as they reached the Wiazma river. A sanguinary conflict took place, the corps of the Viceroy passed through the town on its banks, and crossed the river in fair order, but that of Davoust broke and crossed in great confusion, covered by Ney's division, which retreated steadily, facing about from time to time, and repulsing the infantry attacks, but suffering heavily from the artillery. Ney set the town on fire to cover his retreat, crossed the bridges, and there stemmed the further advance of the Russians.

The French loss in the engagement was 6000 killed and wounded, and 2000 prisoners. The Viceroy was directed to march on Witebsk, but he was overtaken by the enemy when endeavouring to throw a bridge over the half-frozen little river called the Vop. The bridge, hastily made, gave way. The banks were extremely steep. The Grenadiers waded through the river, though the water, full of floating ice, came up to their breasts; but the artillery following were unable to climb the bank, and the guns were soon frozen fast in the river, and they and the whole of the baggage had to be left behind. A similar misfortune befell another of the Viceroy's divisions, which had remained behind to cover the retreat, and of the 14,000 soldiers who commenced the march but 6000 remained with their colours, and but 12 of the 92 guns that had accompanied them.

The condition of the French army rapidly deteriorated. The cold had already become intense, and the soldiers being weak with hunger were the less able to support it. The horses died in great numbers, and their flesh was the principal food upon which the troops had to rely. No one dared straggle to forage, for the Cossacks were ever hovering round, and the peasants, emerging from their hiding-places in the forests, murdered, for the most part with atrocious tortures, everyone who fell out of the ranks from wounds, exhaustion, or frost-bite.

Julian had, since their retreat began, again recovered his spirits. He was now not fighting to conquer a country against which he had no animosity, but for his own life and that of the thousands of sick and wounded.

"I am glad that we are in the rear-guard," he said to a number of non-commissioned officers who were one evening, when they were fortunate enough to be camped in a wood, gathered round a huge fire.

"Why so, Jules? It seems to me that we have the hardest work, and, besides, there is not a day that we have not to fight."

"That is the thing that does us good," Julian replied. "The columns ahead have nothing to do but to think of the cold, and hunger, and misery. They straggle along; they no longer march. With us it is otherwise. We are still soldiers; we keep our order. We are proud to know that the safety of the army depends on us; and, if we do get knocked over with a bullet, surely that is a better fate than dropping from exhaustion, and falling into the hands of the peasants."

"You are right, Jules," several of them exclaimed. "It is better a thousand times."

"We have a bad prospect before us," Julian went on. "There is no denying that; but it will make all the difference how we face it. Above all things we have got to keep up our spirits. I have heard that the captains of the whalers in the northern seas do everything in their power to interest and amuse their crews. They sing, they dance, they tell stories of adventures, and the great thing is to keep from brooding over the present. I am but a young sergeant, and most of you here have gone through many a campaign, and it is not for me to give advice, but I should say that above all things we ought to try to keep up the spirits of our men. If we could but start the marching songs we used to sing as we tramped through Germany, it would set men's feet going in time, would make them forget the cold and hunger, and they would march along erect, instead of with their eyes fixed on the ground, and stumbling as if they could not drag their feet along. We should tell them why we sing, or they might think it was a mockery. Tell them that the Grenadiers of the Rhone mean to show that, come what may, they intend to be soldiers to the last, and to face death, whether from the Russians or from the winter, heads erect and courage high. Let us show them that, as we have ever done our duty, so we shall do it to the end, and that it will be a matter of pride that throughout the division it should be said, when they hear our songs, 'There go the Grenadiers of the Rhone, brave fellows and good comrades; see how they bear themselves.'"

"Bravo, bravo, Jules! bravo, Englishman!" the whole of the party shouted. "So it shall be, we swear it. The Grenadiers of the Rhone shall set an example."

Suddenly the voices hushed, and Julian was about to look round to see the cause of their silence, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Ney standing beside him, with three or four of his staff. They had come up unobserved, and had stopped a few paces away just as Julian began to speak.

"Bravo, comrade!" the marshal said; "spoken in the true spirit of a soldier. Were there a dozen men like you in every regiment I should have no fear for the future. Did they call you Englishman?"

"Yes, General. I was a prisoner at Verdun, though neither an English soldier or sailor, and when a call came for volunteers, and I was promised that I should not be called upon to fight against my own countrymen, I thought it better to carry a French musket than to rot in a French prison."

"And you have carried it well," the marshal said. "Had you not done so you would not have won your stripes among the men of the Grenadiers of the Rhone, where every man has again and again shown that he is a hero. Carry out your brave comrade's idea, lads. We all want comforting, and my own heart will beat quicker to-morrow as I ride along and hear your marching song, and I shall say to myself, 'God bless the brave Grenadiers of the Rhone;' I trust that others will follow your example. What is your name, sergeant?"

"Julian Wyatt, General."

"Put it down in my note-book," Ney said to one of his staff. "Good-night, comrades, you have done me good. By the way, a hundred yards to your left I marked a dead horse as I came along; it may help your suppers." Then, amid a cheer from the soldiers, Ney moved on with his staff.

It was not many minutes before portions of the horse were cooking over the fire.

"I feel another man already," one of the younger sergeants laughed, as they ate their meal. "Jules is right; good spirits are everything."

"Bear that in mind to-morrow, Antoine," another said. "It is easy enough to be cheerful when one is warm and has got some meat, even though it be only horse-flesh and mightily tough at that, between your teeth; but it is harder to be so after sixteen hours of marching and fighting."

"Well, we will try anyhow, Jacques."

Another quarter of an hour and the circle broke up, the non-commissioned officers going off to the companies to which they belonged.

Wood being plentiful, great fires were kept blazing all night, and round each was told what Julian had said, the commendation Ney had given the regiment, and his warm approval of the plan. As soon as the order was given to march in the morning, and Julian started one of their old marching songs, it was taken up from end to end of the column, to the astonishment of the officers and of the men of other regiments within hearing. The effect upon the men themselves was electrical. The dogged look of determination with which they had before plodded along was supplanted by an air of gaiety. They marched along in time to the music with a step that was almost elastic. Not since they had crossed the Niemen had the song been heard; occasionally a singer was silent for a minute or two, and passed his hand across his eyes as he thought of the many voices of comrades, now hushed for ever, that had then joined in the chorus. Half-an-hour later Ney, followed by his staff, rode along past the column. As he reached the head he spoke to the colonel, and the order was at once given for the regiment to form up in hollow square. When they had done so the colonel shouted, "Attention!" Ney took off his plumed hat and said, in a voice loud enough to be heard by all:

"Grenadiers of the Rhone, I salute you. All honour to the regiment that has set an example to the army of cheerfulness under hardships. You will be placed in the order of the day with the thanks of your marshal for the spirit you have shown. Maintain it, my friends; it will warm you more thoroughly than food or fire, and will carry you triumphantly through whatever fate may have in store for us."

A deep cheer burst from the regiment as the gallant soldier bowed to his horse's mane and then rode on with his staff, while the regiment, again breaking into a song, continued its march. Late in the afternoon they were again engaged. The long columns ahead were delayed by crossing a narrow bridge over a river, and for two hours the rear-guard had to stand firm against constant attacks by the Russians. At one time a heavy column of Russian infantry moved down upon them, but Ney, riding up to the grenadiers, said:

"I give you the post of honour, comrades. Drive back that column."

The colonel gave the order to charge, and the regiment rushed forward with such ardour to the attack, that the Russians were compelled to fall back with heavy loss, and shortly afterwards news came that the bridge was clear, and the rear-guard followed the rest of the army. Forty of the grenadiers had fallen, among them their colonel and two other officers. The next morning, before the regiment marched, the major as usual read out to it the order of the day. The marshal expressed his approbation of the spirit which the Grenadiers of the Rhone had manifested.

"This fine regiment," he said, "has ever merited eulogium for the manner in which it has sustained the honour of its flag in every engagement in which it has taken part. The marshal considers, however, that even higher praise is due to it for its bearing in the present stress of circumstances. Good spirits, and the resolution to look at things in a cheerful light, is the best method of encountering them, and it cheered the hearts of all near them to hear them singing their marching songs. The marshal in passing them was struck with the renewal of their martial appearance, as they marched, head erect, in time to their songs, and he hopes that their example will be followed by the other regiments of the corps, and is sure that not only will it be to the advantage of the discipline and efficiency of the troops, but it will greatly conduce to their own well-being, and the manner in which they will be able to support cold, hunger, and fatigue."

The marshal had brought the conduct and fine bearing of the Grenadiers of the Rhone under the attention of the Emperor. In spite of the fact that the soldiers of Ney's corps had to endure a larger amount of hardship than that of the rest of the army, from the necessity of constant vigilance, and from the long hours they were upon the road, their health suffered less than that of other troops. In the first place, they had an absolute faith in their commander; in the next, they were in the post of honour, and on them the safety of the whole army depended. Thus the constant skirmishing, and, occasionally, hard fighting that went on, braced them up, and saved them from the moody depression that weighed upon the rest of the army. They had, too, some material advantage from the broken-down waggons and vehicles of all sorts that fell behind. Every day they obtained a certain amount of stores, while from the bodies of those who had dropped from exhaustion, sickness, or cold they obtained a supply of extra clothing.

The morning after the reading of Ney's order of the day commending the regiment, an order from Napoleon himself was read at the head of the regiment, Ney taking his place by the side of the newly promoted colonel. The Emperor said that he had received the report of Marshal Ney of the conduct and bearing of the Grenadiers of the Rhone, together with a copy of his order of the day, and that this was fully endorsed by the Emperor, who felt that the spirit they were showing was even more creditable to them than the valour that they had so often exhibited in battle, and that he desired personally to thank them. The marshal had also brought before his notice the conduct of Sergeant Wyatt of that regiment, who had, he was informed, been the moving spirit in the change that he so much commended, and, as a mark of his approbation, he had requested the marshal himself, as his representative, to affix to his breast the ribbon of the cross of the Legion of Honour.

The colonel called upon Sergeant Wyatt to come forward. Julian did so, saluted, and stood to attention, while the marshal dismounted and pinned to his breast the insignia of the order, while the regiment saluted, and, as Julian returned to his place in the ranks, burst into a hearty cheer. As soon as the marshal had ridden off, and the regiment fell out, the officers gathered round Julian and congratulated him upon the honour he had received, and, at the same time, thanked him heartily for the credit that the regiment had gained, through his means, while the enthusiasm of the soldiers knew no bounds. A word of praise from the Emperor was the distinction that French soldiers and French regiments most coveted, and to have been named, not only by their marshal in his orders, but by the Emperor in a general order to the army, was an honour that filled every heart with pride.

Julian had been a favourite before, but henceforth his popularity was unbounded. Many of the other regiments followed the example of the grenadiers, and, in spite of the ever-increasing cold and the constantly augmenting hardships, Ney's corps retained their discipline and efficiency. Their appearance, indeed, was no longer soldierly. Their garments were in rags. Many wore three or four coats. Their legs were encased in hay-bands, strips of blanket, or sheep-skins. Julian now took out for the first time from his knapsack the leggings that he had manufactured, and, with the strips of blanket that he wound round them, they differed in appearance in no degree from the leggings of some of his comrades, except that they enveloped the feet also. On the day following the reading of Napoleon's order, the grenadiers came upon an overturned caleche. It had been ransacked by a regiment that had preceded them. The driver and a woman lay dead beside it, and they would have passed on without paying any attention to it, had it not been for a faint cry that met the ears of Julian, as his company passed close by it. He dropped back a few paces to an officer, and asked leave to fall out for a minute. Going to the carriage he found lying there among the cushions a little girl some five or six years old. Her cloak had been stripped off her, and she was blue with cold. Julian hesitated.

"I will try anyhow," he muttered to himself. He first ripped open one of the cushions, pulled out the woollen stuffing, and wrapped it round the child's arms and legs, binding it there with strips of the velvet covering the cushions. Then he took off his cloak, and raised her on to his back, having first cut off one of the reins. With this he strapped her securely in that position, put on his warm cloak again, and then, hurrying forward, soon overtook the rear of his regiment.

"Bravo, Jules!" many of his comrades said, as he passed along the column; while others asked, "Why do you encumber yourself with that child? It is enough now for every man to look to himself, and you cannot carry her far."

"I will do what I can," he replied. "She is not so heavy as my knapsack when it is full, and it is empty now; I am only keeping it because it is useful as a pillow. I can't say how far I can carry her, but as long as I can go she shall. We have taken lives enough, heaven knows. It is as well to save one if one gets the opportunity."