CHAPTER XI.

OUR STAY AT ELBING--MADAME GENTIL--AN UNCLE'S HEIR--JANUARY 1ST, 1813--PICART AND THE PRUSSIANS--FATHER ELLIOT--MY WITNESSES.

Without losing time, we went to the town-hall for our billet; it was crowded with soldiers.

We noticed several cavalry officers far more wretched than we were, for nearly all had lost fingers and toes, and others even their noses: it was distressing to see them. The magistrates of the town did all they possibly could do for their comfort, giving them good lodging, and ordering that every care should be taken of them.

After half an hour's waiting, we were given a billet for the five of us, and for our horse; we hurried off to the place at once.

It was a large tavern, or, rather, a low smoking den. We were very ill-received; they showed us a large corridor without fire for our rooms, and some bad straw in it. We expostulated, and were told that it was good enough for Frenchmen, and that, if that didn't suit us, we could go into the street. Indignant at such a reception, we left the house, expressing all our contempt to the brute who had received us in such a way, and threatening to make him give an account of his behaviour to the town magistrates.

We decided that we must try to get our billet changed, and I was charged with the mission, my comrades waiting for me at an inn.

On reaching the town-hall, I found there were not many people there. I addressed myself to the Mayor, who spoke French, and told him how brutally we had been received. I showed him my right foot, wrapped up in a piece of sheepskin, and my right hand, from which the first joint of the middle finger was nearly coming off. He spoke to the man in charge of the billeting, who then said that we could not all be quartered together. 'Here,' he said, 'is a billet for four and a horse, and here is another which I advise you to keep for yourself. It is at a Frenchman's who has married a woman in the town.' After thanking him, I returned in search of my companions.

On reaching the suburb, we went to the quarters for four men and a horse. It was a fisherman's house on the border of a canal, in the direction of the port; we were received well enough. When we were settled, I offered the billet for one to anyone who would have it, but as no one wanted it, I inquired if it was far from the place where we were, and found there was only a bridge to cross.

I thought the house looked very imposing. The first person whom I met, as I went in, was the servant, a stout German with florid cheeks. I showed her my billet. She said there were four soldiers quartered in the house already, but at the same time she went in search of the lady of the house, who told me the same thing, pointing to their room. They were men of our regiment, who, like ourselves, had just arrived, but separately. I determined to return to the first quarters and rejoin my comrades. But the lady, having just read upon the billet that I was a non-commissioned officer of the Imperial Guard, said:

'Listen, my dear sir: you seem to be in such suffering that I do not want to turn you out. Follow me; I will give you a room to yourself, and you shall have a good bed, for I see that you have need of rest.'

I answered that it was very kind of her to take pity on me, but that all I asked was some fire and straw.

'You shall have all that,' she answered.

While speaking, she showed me a small room, warm and clean, with a bed in it covered with an eider-down. But I begged as a favour that she would give me some straw, with some sheets and some warm water to wash myself in.

All I asked for was brought me, besides a great wooden tub to bathe my feet in. I was in want of it, and more besides. My head, my face, and my beard had not been attended to since December 16th. I begged the servant, whose name was Christian, to fetch a barber. He shaved me, or, rather, flayed my face, saying that my skin was hardened by the continued cold, but his razors felt like saws.

This operation over, I had my hair cut. After well paying the barber, I asked him if he knew of some dealer in old clothes, for I wanted some trousers. When he had gone, a Jew arrived with some trousers in a bag. They were there in all colours--gray and blue--but all either too small, too big, or not clean. The son of Israel, seeing he had nothing to fit me, told me that he would go and come back with something that would please me. He soon returned with some trousers _a la Cosaque_, dark red in colour, and of fine cloth. They were a trooper's trousers, probably belonging to an aide-de-camp of King Murat. I tried them on, and, foreseeing they would be very warm, I kept them. The mark was still there of a wide stripe down each side, which the Jew had taken the precaution of removing. In exchange I gave him the doctor's little case mounted in silver that I had taken from the Cossack on November 23rd. He demanded five francs besides, which I paid.

Three fine shirts belonging to the Commissary were still left, so I made up my mind to change my linen; but, looking myself over, I saw to do it properly I ought to have a bath, for there were traces of vermin still all over my body. I inquired of the servant if there were any baths near, but, not able to understand me, she went in search of her mistress, who came immediately. It was then I noticed that my hostess was a young and beautiful woman. For the moment, however, my observations went no further, for in my present position I was too much occupied with myself. She asked me what I wanted, and I said that I wanted a bath, and begged her to be so good as to tell me where I could get one. She answered that there were public baths, but that they were too far away; that, if I liked, one could be got ready for me in the house. She had hot water and a large tub; if I could content myself with that, it should be prepared for me. As may be well imagined, I accepted with joy, and shortly after the servant made signs to me to follow her. So, taking my knapsack and my red trousers, I went into a sort of wash-house, where I found everything necessary, even soap.

I cannot express the comfort I felt in that bath. I stayed in it so long that the servant came to see if anything had happened to me. As she came in she saw that I was at a loss in washing my back. Without asking my permission, she went out and brought a large piece of red flannel, and coming up to the tub, she put her left hand on my neck, and with the other she rubbed me on the back and arms and chest. As may be imagined, I allowed her to do it. She asked me if it was doing me good, so I said yes. On that she redoubled her zeal, until I was tired. Finally, after having thoroughly curry-combed, scrubbed, and dried me, she ran off laughing, without giving me time to thank her.

I put on one of the War Commissary's shirts, then afterwards the trousers _a la_ Cossack, and, bare-footed, went back to the bedroom and dropped on the bed. It was not too soon, for I felt very weak and lost consciousness. I do not know how long I remained in this condition, but when I opened my eyes I saw beside me the lady of the house, and also the servant and two of the soldiers who were billeted there, and who heard that something serious was amiss with me; but it was only weakness caused by the bath, and also by the privations and fatigue I had undergone.

Madame Gentil--this was the lady's name--fed me with some broth, supporting my head on her left arm. I made no resistance, as it was so long since I had been petted. Madame Gentil was remarkably beautiful: her figure was slender and supple, her eyes were black, and her pink and white colouring was that of a beautiful Northern woman. She was four-and-twenty. I remembered having been told that she was married to a Frenchman, and she said it was so.

'In 1807 a convoy of wounded Frenchmen had arrived at Elbing from the neighbourhood of Dantzig, and as the hospital was filled with the sick, the new-comers were billeted among the inhabitants. A Hussar, wounded by a musket-ball in the breast, was sent to us. He also had a sword-cut in the left arm. My mother and I nursed him, and he soon got well.'

'And so,' I said, 'he married you in gratitude for your care.'

Laughing, she answered that it was the case. I told her that I should certainly have done the same, as she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Madame Gentil began to laugh, to blush, and to talk, and she was talking still when I fell asleep, and did not awake till nine o'clock the next morning.

For some little time I could not remember where I was. The servant entered, accompanied by Madame Gentil, who was bringing me coffee, tea and rolls. It was a long time indeed since I had had such a feast! I forgot the past; I thought only of the present and Madame Gentil. I even forgot my comrades.

Madame Gentil looked at me attentively; then, passing her hand over my face, asked me what was the matter. I replied there was nothing wrong.

'But there is,' she said; 'your face is swollen.'

Then she told me that a non-commissioned officer of the Imperial Guard had come the preceding afternoon to inquire if she had not a non-commissioned officer lodging with her. She had said yes, there was one, and had shown him my room; but he had gone away again, saying I was not the man he was looking for.

While Madame Gentil was relating this, my friend Grangier came in, but was going out again, saying:

'I beg your pardon, but ever since yesterday I have been looking for one of my comrades, and can't find him. And yet this is certainly the street and the number of the house marked upon his billet.'

I said: 'It's I you are looking for, isn't it?'

Grangier then burst out laughing. He hadn't recognised me. This was not surprising. I had no _queue_, my face was swollen, I was as white as a swan, in consequence of my bath, or, rather, of the way the servant had curry-combed me; I was wearing fine white linen, my head well brushed, my hair curled. He told me that he had called the day before, but seeing a pair of red trousers over a chair, he had gone away convinced he had made some mistake. He had just been informed, he said, that there was to be a muster of the remnant of the Guards at three o'clock, and that everyone must do his utmost to appear. He would come back for me.

At two o'clock he came to fetch me, as he had promised, accompanied by my other comrades, who on seeing me began to laugh so much that their poor lips bled, cracked as they were with frost.

I had a pleasant surprise ready for them, in the shape of some old Rhine wine, and some little cakes Madame Gentil had had the kindness to get for me. She was most thoughtful, and anticipated everything that could give me pleasure. I inquired about her husband, adding that, as he was a Frenchman, it would give me great pleasure to meet him and drink some wine with him. She said he had been away for some days. He had gone with her father to the Baltic, where they both did business in fruit, which they exported to St. Petersburg.[71]

It was December 24th. A little before three o'clock we repaired to the great square facing the palace in which Murat was lodged. I caught sight of Adjutant-Major Roustan, who came to me and asked who I was. I began to laugh.

'Hello!' he said; 'it isn't you, Bourgogne? Devil take me! No one would ever say you had come from Moscow, for you are looking big and fat and fresh. And where's your _queue_?'

I told him it had come off.

'Well,' he replied, 'if it has come off, I shall put you under arrest when we get to Paris, till it has grown again.'

There were very few present at this first muster, but we were pleased to meet again, for since December 17th, at Wilbalen, we had hardly seen each other at all. Everyone had gone his own way, and taken a different route.

The following days passed in the same way--a muster each day. On the fourth after our arrival we heard of the death of one of the superior officers of the Young Guard. He had died of grief at the tragic end of a Russian family of French origin, and dwelling at Moscow, whom he had invited to follow him on the retreat. I have already related their terrible fate.

By December 29th I was really better. The swelling in my face had disappeared; my frozen foot was going on well, also my hand, and all thanks to the care of Madame Gentil, who nursed me like a child. Her husband returned from his journey, but only remained at home two days, leaving again with goods to rejoin his father-in-law, who would forward the things on sledges into Russia. Communication was opened again with that country since we had left. He told me that he had served three years in the 3rd Hussars, but that after receiving two severe wounds near Dantzig he had obtained his discharge as disabled. But he had preferred remaining in this country and marrying there, where he had made friends, to returning to Champagne-Pouilleuse, his own country, where he had no property.

The next day, December 30th, I went with Grangier to pay a visit to my brave Picart, who had had an accident. A Grenadier who had been quartered with him showed me the place.

On reaching it, a woman dressed in black, and with a melancholy air, showed us to his room, at the end of a long corridor. We saw that the door was half open. We stopped to listen to Picart's deep voice singing his favourite piece to the tune of 'The _Cure de Pomponne_':

'Ah! tu t'en souviendras, la-ri-ra, Du depart de Boulogne!'

Great was our surprise at seeing him with a face as white as snow, a mask of skin covering his whole face. He told us about his accident, speaking of himself as a raw recruit, an old stupid. 'Listen, _mon pays_,' he said. 'It was just like the musket-shot in the wood the night of November 23rd. I see I am good for nothing. This miserable campaign has done for me. See,' he continued, 'if something horrible doesn't happen to me.' So saying, he laid hold of a bottle of gin that was on the table, and taking three cups from the chimney-piece, filled them, to drink, as he said, to our safe arrival. 'Look here,' he said: 'we will spend the day together, and I will invite you to dinner.'

He at once called the woman, who came in weeping. I asked Picart what was the matter with her, and he replied that an uncle of hers had been buried that morning, an old bachelor, a coaster or privateer, very rich, as it seemed, and that there were great doings in the house. He had been invited, and for that reason he had invited us too, as there would be _noisettes a croquer_. But on second thoughts, he said that it would be much better to have the dinner brought to his room than to spend our time with a heap of blubbering creatures who were pretending grief--the usual result of the death of a rich uncle who had something to leave. He told the woman he should not be able to dine with her, on account of friends having come to see him; and, besides, he was so sensitive he should do nothing but weep. So saying, he pretended to wipe away a tear. The woman began to cry again, and at such a comedy we were obliged to cover our faces with our handkerchiefs so as not to burst with laughter. The good woman thought that we were all crying, and called us first-rate fellows, saying we should be served at once. On this she withdrew, and two female servants brought us dinner. There were so many things we couldn't have eaten them in three days.

As may be imagined, our dinner was of the gayest; still, when we remembered our miseries, the fate of those friends whom we had seen perish, and others who had disappeared, we grew sad and thoughtful.

Night was coming on, and we were still smoking and drinking, when the mistress of the house came in to tell us that they were waiting for us to have their coffee. She led the way, and after a good many turnings we reached a large room, Grangier in front, I second; Picart had stayed behind. On entering, we saw a long table, well lighted by several candles. Around it were fourteen women, more or less old, and all dressed in black. In front of each was a cup, a glass, a long clay pipe and tobacco, for in this country almost all the women smoke, particularly the sailors' wives. The remainder of the table was furnished with bottles of Rhine wine and Dantzig gin.

Picart had not yet come in; we thought he did not dare put in an appearance because of his face. But suddenly we saw a movement among the women; they all shrieked, and looked towards the door. It was old Picart, with his mask of white skin muffled in his cloak of the same colour, a cap of black Russian fox on his head, and smoking a meerschaum pipe with a long tube, which he carried gravely in his right hand; the cap and the pipe belonged to the deceased. Passing down the corridor, he had seen them hanging up in the dead man's room, and had taken them for a joke. Hence the fright of the women, who had taken him for the dead man coming to his own wake. They begged Picart to accept the cap and pipe, as a reward for the tears he had shed that morning, before the mistress of the house.

The conversation grew livelier and livelier, for all the women smoked and drank like troopers. Soon one could not make one's self heard.

Before breaking up a psalm was sung, and a prayer said for the repose of the dead man's soul; it was all sung and said with much unction, and we took part silently.

Afterwards they left us, wishing us good-evening; it was snowing and blowing a furious gale, so we decided to sleep at our old comrade's. There was plenty of straw and a warm room, and more we did not want.

The next morning coffee was brought us by a young servant. She was accompanied by the mistress of the house, who wished us good-day, and asked if there was anything else we wanted. We thanked her. She began to chat with the servant; the latter told her she had just been assured the Russian army was not more than four days' march from the town, and that a Jew, arrived from Tilsit, had met Cossacks near Eylau.

As I spoke enough German to understand part of the conversation, I heard the lady exclaim: 'My God! what will become of all these brave young fellows?' I showed my gratitude to the good German for the interest she took in us by telling her that, now we had had food and drink, we could snap our fingers at all the Russians.

If the men were hostile, the women were always on our side.

I reminded Picart that the next day was New Year's Day, 1813, and that I wished to spend the day at my own lodgings. He looked into a glass to see what his face was like, then decided that he would come too. As he did not know my lodgings, it was arranged that I should meet him at eleven o'clock in front of Murat's palace. We now thought of getting home, but so great a quantity of snow had fallen that we were obliged to hire a sledge. We reached our lodgings, I with a splitting headache and a little fever, the result of the festivities the evening before.

My absence had made Madame Gentil uneasy; her servant had waited up till midnight. I told her how sorry I was, and made the bad weather my excuse. I said that the following day I should have two friends to dinner. She replied that she would do all she could to please me, which meant that it was to be at her expense. She gave me afterwards some grease that she said was very good for chilblains, and wished me to use it at once, I obeyed her. How good Madame Gentil was! But all the German women were good to us.

I spent the rest of the day in the house--in bed almost the whole time--cared for and comforted by my charming hostess.

When evening came, I began to think what I could give her for a present on New Year's Day. I resolved to get up early, and see if I could not find something among the Jews. Thereupon I went to bed, as I wanted a good night's rest, for the party the evening before had tired me.

The next day, January 1st, 1813, the ninth after our arrival at Elbing, I got up at seven o'clock to go out, but first I looked to see how much of my money was left. I found that I had 485 francs left, of which more than 400 francs was in gold, the rest in five-franc pieces. On leaving Wilna I had 800 francs. Could I have spent 315 francs? The thing was impossible. I must have lost some. That was not surprising, but I was still rich enough to spend twenty or thirty francs on a present for my charming hostess.

At the very moment when I was opening the door, I met the fat servant Christian, who had scrubbed me so thoroughly in the bath. She wished me a 'Happy New Year,' and as she was the first person I had seen, I kissed her and gave her five francs. She went off, saying that she would not tell Madame I had kissed her.

I turned in the direction of the palace square. I had not reached it, when I saw two soldiers belonging to the regiment walking slowly and painfully, bowed down under the weight of their accoutrements, nearly spent with fatigue.

Seeing me, they came up, and to my great surprise I recognised two men of my company, whom I had not seen since the passage of the Berezina. They were in such a wretched state that I made them follow me to an inn, where I ordered hot coffee to warm them.

They related that on the morning of November 29th, a little before the departure of the regiment from the banks of the Berezina, they had been ordered on fatigue-duty to bury several men belonging to the regiment, who had been killed the preceding evening, or who had died of exposure. When they had finished they started off, thinking they were following the route the regiment had taken; but, unfortunately, they obeyed the direction of some Poles, who guided them towards their own country. They did not find it out till the following day.

'The end of it was,' they told me, 'that for a whole month we were walking about in an unknown, deserted country, always under deep snow. We were unable to make ourselves understood, not knowing where we were, nor where we were going. Our money was of no use to us, and we could only procure such things as milk or dripping at the cost of our clothes, by parting with our "eagle" buttons, or some handkerchiefs that we had kept by chance. We were not alone in this; there were many others of different regiments going the same way, and like ourselves, not knowing where they were going, for the Poles we had been following had disappeared, and it is only by chance, sergeant, that we have got here, and have had the good luck to meet you.'

I told them how glad I was to see them again; they had been in my company four years. Suddenly one of them exclaimed:

'Why, sergeant, I have something to hand over to you! You remember that when we were leaving Moscow you entrusted me with a parcel? Here it is just as you gave it me; it has never been taken out of my knapsack.'

The parcel consisted of a military overcoat of fine dark-gray cloth that I had had made for me during our stay in Moscow by the Russian tailors whose lives I had saved, and of another article--an inkstand--that I had taken from a table in the Rostopchin Palace, thinking it was of silver (that it was not, however).

The year was beginning well for me. I hoped that it would prove the same for this man. I gave him twenty francs, and then I made haste to get into my new overcoat.

I now had a second delightful surprise. Putting my hands into the pockets of the new coat, I drew out an Indian silk handkerchief, and in one of its corners, tightly knotted, I found a little cardboard box, containing five rings, set with beautiful stones. I thought I had lost this box with my knapsack, and now here it was all ready for a present for Madame Gentil. The finest one was to be for her.

Telling my two soldiers to wait till roll-call to be re-entered in the company and receive a billet, I returned to my own lodging.

On the way I bought a large sugar-cake, which I presented to my hostess, with the ring, begging her to keep it as a souvenir from Moscow. She asked me how I had bought it. I told her that I had paid for it very dearly, and that not for a million would I go on a similar search for another.

At eleven o'clock I returned to the square in front of the palace. There were already a good many men there; in three days our numbers were almost doubled. One would have said all those one believed dead had come to life again to wish each other a 'Happy New Year.' But it was a melancholy sight, for a great number were without nose or fingers or toes; some had suffered all three misfortunes combined.

The rumour that the Russians were advancing was confirmed. The order was given that we should hold ourselves in readiness, as if on the eve of a battle, and to sleep with one eye open, to avoid a surprise; to keep our arms primed and ready, to supply ourselves with new cartridges, and to attend the roll-call with all our weapons and accoutrements.

The muster was not yet over, when I felt a tap upon my shoulder and a loud laugh in my ears. It was Picart, in fine array and without his mask, who threw himself on my neck, embraced me, and wished me a 'Happy New Year.' On the other side there was Grangier doing the same, and putting thirty francs into my hand. My travelling companions had just sold our sledge and the horse for 150 francs. This was my share. After a great many questions about my new overcoat, we set out to dine at my place, as had been arranged. On our arrival we found two other ladies, so there was one for each. Shortly afterwards we sat down informally to table.

It was late enough when our dinner ended, as it had begun, very joyously.

I heard one of the ladies on leaving say to Madame Gentil: '_Tarteifle des Franzosen!_' She added: 'They are always gay and amusing.'

The next day, at the muster, Picart came to look for me and tell me that on returning to his lodging he had found the whole family of his hostess gathered together and swearing at the defunct uncle. The mistress told him that during the day a woman had arrived from Riga, accompanied by a little boy of nine or ten, whom she said she had had by M. Kennmann, the deceased, and that he had acknowledged him as his heir. Everything was to be sealed up, and Picart had asked if they were going to seal up the cellar. They told him to bring up some bottles for his own consuming as a precaution. He answered that he would get as many as possible, and thereupon had set to work on the job, and had already fetched more than forty, which he had hidden under the bundle of straw he used as a bolster, and that after the muster he was going to empty his knapsack to fill it with bottles. As a matter of fact, he arrived an hour later, knapsack on back. He told me we must make haste to drink up the wine, as everyone in the town was talking of the speedy arrival of the Russians.

During the short time we remained in the town he brought me some wine every day. He must have ended by emptying the cellar, as he said. But one day--January 11th--he came to my place early in the morning in marching order, and told me that he did not think that he should return to sleep at his lodging; he was holding himself in readiness to hear the alarm sounded, and he advised me to do the same, and to begin saying farewell to Madame Gentil.

Grangier came in, also in marching order. He arrived just in time to breakfast with me, as there was plenty of wine.

It was perhaps eight o'clock in the morning when we sat down to table; at half-past eleven we were still there, when Picart, who was just emptying his glass, stopped short, and said: 'Listen! I fancy I hear artillery!'

The noise indeed grew louder, the alarm sounded, the men ran to take up their arms. Madame Gentil rushed into the room exclaiming:

'Gentlemen, the Cossacks!'

'We are just going to make them dance,' said Picart.

Hurriedly I arranged my things, and directly afterwards I was embracing Madame Gentil, while Picart and Grangier, like proper soldiers, were emptying the last bottle. I tossed off a final glass, then rushed into the street behind my friends.

We had not taken thirty steps, when I heard someone calling me. I turned, and saw the fat Christian, who was making signs to me to stop, saying I had forgotten something. Madame Gentil was standing in the passage. As soon as she caught sight of me, she cried out:

'You have forgotten your little kettle.'

My poor little kettle that I had carried from Wilna, that I had bought from the Jew who tried to poison me--I had really not given it a thought. I went in to embrace this dear woman once more, who had nursed me and cared for me as if I had been her brother or her child. I told her to keep my kettle as a remembrance of me.

'You can use it to boil water in for tea, and every time you do so you will think of the young sergeant-velite of the Guard. Farewell!'

I heard the roar of artillery still louder; again I rushed out into the street, this time not to return.

I caught sight of Grangier waiting impatiently for me on a little bridge. We took the shortest road along the quay to the place of muster. We had not been walking five minutes, when we saw Picart in the middle of the street, swearing in a rage, holding a Prussian down with his foot, and in front of him four Prussian soldiers commanded by a corporal under the orders of a police superintendent. The reason was this: several people had thrown snowballs at Picart in front of a cafe. He stopped, threatening to enter the house and have them arrested, but they took no notice; one of them, coming down into the street and advancing behind Picart, rested a billiard-cue on his shoulder, and began to cry: 'Hourra! Cossack!' Picart, turning rapidly, gripped hold of him and flung him flat on his face in the snow. Then, placing his right foot on his back, he fixed his bayonet, and, turning in the direction of the cafe, defied all those within.

The guard was fetched; Picart had in the meantime made his man understand that if he made the least movement he would be bayoneted. He said the same to those who were in the cafe; no one stirred, and then the guard came up with the superintendent of police.

The guard did not frighten Picart. He was just then like a lion holding his prey in his claws, and looking proudly at his hunters. He did not see us; the superintendent was trembling with fear. The women said, 'He is right; he was going quietly on his way, and they insulted him.'

Finally a Protestant minister, who had seen everything, and who spoke French, came forward and explained to the superintendent how the whole thing had happened. On this they told Picart that he might let the man go, that justice would be dealt him. Picart said, 'Get up!' He did not require to be told a second time.

When he had risen, Picart gave him a sound kick behind, saying, 'This is justice on my own account.' The man made off amid the hootings of all the women present, holding his hand to the place where he had been kicked.

Meanwhile the superintendent was exacting a fine of twenty-five francs from all those persons who had insulted Picart, as well as from the one who had had the kick. He pocketed half of it 'for the King,' he said, 'and to defray the expenses of justice.' The other half he presented to Picart, who at first refused, but on second thoughts offered half of it to the policemen, the other half to the Protestant minister, saying, 'If you should ever meet the wife of an old soldier, give her that from me.' We had to explain to them what Picart meant, for they could not understand so much disinterestedness on the part of a soldier. They would have liked to say flattering things to him; even the superintendent of police began jabbering compliments. We pursued our way in the direction of the palace, Grangier making remarks upon the Prussian character, Picart singing his refrain:

'Ah! tu t'en souviendras, la-ri-ra, Du depart de Boulogne!'

We reached the square, and we saw a regiment of negroes opposite the palace where Murat was staying. It was really comical to see the contrast of their faces against the snow-covered square. The officers commanding them were black also. I could not find out what route this corps took in the retreat, but I think they crossed the Vistula at Marienwerder.

The artillery had almost ceased firing; the Russians had been driven from the neighbourhood of the town by a body of fresh troops, who had not been on the Russian campaign. A little grape-shot scattered among their cavalry had been quite enough for them.

We were stopped by the service waggons of the different corps leaving the town. We were now near Picart's quarters, so he exclaimed, 'Halt, friends! I must say adieu to my landlady, and get my white cloak and the pipe and cap belonging to the deceased uncle, and there are still some bottles of wine under my straw bolster that we must empty.'

We went into the house and straight to his room without meeting anyone. Picart then got out five bottles, two of wine and three of Dantzig gin. He told us to each put one in our knapsacks, an order we obeyed at once. Then he called the landlady.

'Allow me to embrace you,' said Picart, 'and say adieu, for we are going.'

'So I suppose,' she said; 'and you will be hardly out of the town before the dirty Russians will come to take your place. What a pity! But before leaving us you must take something. You must not go away like this.'

And she went in search of two bottles of wine, some ham and bread, and we sat down to table.

Presently the noise of artillery was heard quite near. The woman cried, '_Jesus! Maria!_' and we ran out.

I was a little in front of my two comrades. A few steps before me I saw a man I fancied I recognised, who had stopped. I went up and found I was not mistaken; it was the oldest man in the regiment, who had sword, musket, and cross of honour, and who had disappeared since December 24th--Pere Elliot, who had been through the Egyptian campaign. He was in a pitiable condition: both his feet were frozen and wrapped in bits of sheepskin; his ears, also frozen, were covered with the same; his beard and moustache were bristling with icicles. I looked at him, so much surprised I was unable to speak.

At last I said, 'Well, Pere Elliot, and here you are! And where the devil have you come from? And how you are dressed! You seem to be in terrible suffering.'

'Ah, my good friend,' said he, 'I have been a soldier now for twenty years, and I have never wept; but I am shedding tears to-day more from rage than misfortune, for I shall be taken by these brutes of Cossacks without being able to strike a blow. For nearly four weeks I have been going about alone, ever since the passage of the Niemen, all across the snow in a savage country, and unable to get any news about the army. I had two companions; one died a week ago, and the second is very likely dead, too. Four days ago I had to leave them in the house of some poor Poles, where we had been sleeping. I have travelled more than 400 leagues in the snow since leaving Moscow, unable to rest, my feet and my hands frozen, and even my nose.'

I saw great tears flowing from the old soldier's eyes.

Picart and Grangier just then rejoined me. Grangier recognised Pere Elliot instantly; they belonged to the same company; but Picart, although he had known him for seventeen years,[72] could not remember him.

We entered the nearest house, and were made very welcome; it belonged to an old sailor, and these people are generally kind.

Picart made his old comrade in arms take a seat beside the fire; then, drawing one of the two bottles of wine from the pocket of his overcoat, he filled a big bumper.

'Come, my old comrade of the 23rd Brigade, swallow this! Good! And now this! Very good! And now a morsel of bread, and you will feel better.'

Since leaving Moscow he had not tasted wine, nor eaten such good bread, and he seemed to forget his miseries at once. The sailor's wife bathed his face with a linen cloth soaked in warm water; this melted the icicles on his beard and moustache.

'And now,' said Picart, 'we'll have a little chat. Do you remember when we embarked at Toulon on our way to Egypt?...'

Grangier, meanwhile, had been out to see if the march had begun again, and now came in to tell us that a conveyance, laden with heavy baggage belonging to Murat, had stopped before the door. A fine chance for Pere Elliot. He must get into it at once. 'Forward!' cried Picart; and with the help of the sailor we soon had the old sergeant perched on the vehicle.

Picart put the other bottle of wine between his knees, and the white mantle over his back to keep him from the cold. Shortly afterwards we began to march, and half an hour later we were outside Elbing.

The same day we crossed the Vistula on the ice, and marched on, without accident, till four o'clock, when we halted at a large town where Marshal Mortier, who was in command, decided we should spend the night.

* * * * *

I have not written my memoirs either out of vanity or from a desire to talk about myself. I have merely wished to recall the memory of this gigantic campaign, so fatal to us and those fellow-soldiers who went through it with me. Their ranks, alas! are thinning day by day. The facts I have related appear incredible, sometimes impossible; but no one must imagine I have added anything which is not true, or have tried to make my narrative interesting by embellishing it. On the contrary, I must ask my readers to believe I have not told all, for I scarcely can believe it myself. I made a note of everything while I was prisoner in 1813, and in 1814 on my return from captivity, while the impressions of such disasters were still fresh in my mind.

Those who went through this lamentable but glorious campaign proved, as the Emperor said, that they must have been made of iron to bear so many privations and so much misery; this was surely the very greatest test to which men were ever exposed.

If I have omitted anything, such as a date or the name of a place, which I think unlikely, I owe it to myself to say I have added nothing.

Several witnesses to what I have written, who were in the same regiment with me, and some in the same company, are still living. I will quote some in particular:

M. CESARISSE, Grenadier-Velite, now Field-Marshal in the service of the King of Holland, a native of St. Nicolas in Brabant. He was Lieutenant in the same company in which I was then sergeant.

ROSSI, Quarter-master in the same company, a native of Montauban, and whom I had the pleasure of meeting again at Brest in 1830. We had not seen each other for sixteen years.

VACHAIN,[73] then a Lieutenant in the same battalion, now living at Auzin (Nord). I met him again after an interval of twenty years.

LEBOUDE, then Sergeant-Major, now Lieutenant-General in Belgium, belonged also to the same battalion.

GRANGIER, Sergeant, who came from Puy-de-Dome in Auvergne. He was my intimate friend. On more than one occasion he saved my life. His constitution was weak, his courage equal to any trial. He died of cholera in 1832.

PIERSON, also Sergeant-Velite, now Captain on the staff at Angers.[74] He was very ugly, but a good fellow, as were all the Velites. There never was a face like his; he was so different from everyone else. One need only set eyes on him once to remember him. In this connection I will relate a fact that bears me out in what I have been saying.

At the beginning of this campaign, when we were at Wilna, the capital of Lithuania, Pierson was one day mounting guard at the works. It was July 4th, and big ovens were being constructed for the baking of bread for the army. The Emperor came to see how the work was getting on. Pierson thought he would take advantage of the occasion to beg for a decoration, and, going up to His Majesty, he made his request. 'Very good,' answered the Emperor, 'after the first battle!' After that came the siege of Smolensk, the great battle of the Moskowa, as well as several others during the retreat. But during the disastrous retreat no opportunity arrived of reminding the Emperor of his promise. It was not till March 16th, 1813, some days after our return to Paris, at Malmaison, where a review was being held--the same day I was made Lieutenant--that Pierson was able to remind the Emperor of the promise he had made him. Seeing him approaching, the Emperor asked him what he wanted. 'Sire,' he replied, 'I want the cross your Majesty promised me.' 'True,' answered the Emperor, smiling, 'at the works at Wilna!' It was ten months since the promise had been given. The man had certainly an unforgettable face, but what a memory the Emperor had!

I will quote some further witnesses:

M. PENIAUX, of Valenciennes, superintendent of the Emperor's relays and stages, who saw me almost dying, laid upon the snow, on the banks of the Berezina.

M. MELLE, a Dragoon of the Guards, whom I often met during the retreat, leading his horse by the bridle, and making holes in the ice of the lakes to give him drink. He was from Conde, the place I came from. He might be called, with truth, one of the best soldiers in the army. Before entering the Guard, M. Melle had already gone through the Italian campaign. With the same weapons and the same horse he went through the campaigns of 1806 and 1807 in Prussia and Poland, 1808 in Spain, 1809 in Germany, 1810 and 1811 in Spain, 1812 in Russia, 1813 in Saxony, and 1814 in France.

After the departure of the Emperor for the Isle of Elba, he remained in the Royal Guard, awaiting his pension, and always keeping his horse with him. On the return of the Emperor from Elba, he reappeared again in the same corps as one of the Imperial Guards at Waterloo. He was wounded, and his horse killed--the horse which had gone through so many campaigns with his master, and had taken part in more than fifteen great battles commanded by the Emperor.

Had the Emperor remained in France this brave soldier would have been worthily rewarded. Although Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, he is now in great want. During the retreat from Russia he sometimes penetrated alone at night into the enemy's camp to get hay or straw for Cadet, the name of his horse. He never returned without killing one or two Russians, or bringing back what he called a witness, viz., a prisoner.

MONFORT, trooper, now a retired officer of Cuirassiers at Valenciennes. Although from the same country, and also belonging to the Imperial Guard, I only knew him in the army by reputation, by the manner in which he distinguished himself in the different combats we had in Spain. In Russia, he crossed the Berezina on horseback over the blocks of ice. But he left his horse behind. At Waterloo, on Mount St. Jean, during a charge against the Queen of England's Dragoons,[75] he killed the Colonel with a thrust in the chest, sending him to sup with Pluto.

PAVART, retired Captain at Valenciennes, belonging during the Russian campaign to the infantry of the Imperial Guard. All that he relates of their campaign, of what happened to him, and of what he saw, is very interesting.

During the retreat, at Krasnoe, we were fighting for three days, November 15th, 16th, and 17th, against the Russian army of 100,000 men. On the night of the 16th, the eve of the battle of the 17th, Pavart, then a corporal, was in command of a patrol of six men. Making his rounds, he caught sight of another patrol of five men upon his right. Imagining--indeed, almost certain--that they belonged to us, he said to his men, 'Wait for me. I am going to speak with the one in command, so that we may both move in the same direction, and avoid the Russian outposts. The men halted instantly, and he went up to the second patrol, who, seeing a man coming alone, no doubt believed he was one of them. But Pavart now saw they were Russians. It was too late to draw back. He advanced resolutely, and, without giving the Russians time to reflect, he fell upon them and put three of them _hors de combat_ with the bayonet. The others took to flight. After this bold stroke he turned to rejoin his men, but found them close at hand, running to help him.

WILKES, non-commissioned officer in a line regiment, a native of Valenciennes; taken prisoner on the banks of the Berezina; led in captivity 1,400 leagues from Paris, where he was kept three years.

CAPTAIN VACHAIN, of whom I have spoken above, had a very lively discussion while we were in Spain with my sergeant-major, which ended in a duel and a sword-cut which divided my sergeant-major's face in two from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin. He did as much on various occasions for Austrians, Prussians, Spaniards, Russians, and English, against all of whom he was fighting for ten years without stopping, for during this time he took part in more than twenty great battles commanded by the Emperor Napoleon.

At the Battle of Esslingen, May 22nd, 1809, Vachain was carrying a skin filled with wine, hung at his side. One of his friends, a non-commissioned officer like himself, signed to him that he would very much like a drink. Vachain called to him to come near, and, stooping to one side, he offered him some wine. This took place during the action, when bullets and grape were flying on all sides. The man had hardly swallowed it, when a brute of an Austrian ball carried away his head as well as the gourd of wine.

Two days before they had dined together at Vienna, and there they had made each other gifts of what they possessed in the way of watch, belt, etc., in case of the death of one or the other. But Vachain had no desire to put his promise into execution. He drew back and fell into rank, thinking himself lucky not to have been struck by the same ball, but reflecting that at any moment as much might still happen to him, for it was warm work just there. I was wounded that same day.

Besides the old soldiers whom I knew individually, I can quote others who made a glorious and terrible fight with Russia:

MM. BUOY, retired Captain at Valenciennes, and a native of that place, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

HOUREZ, retired Captain at Valenciennes, and a native, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

PIETE, Sub-Lieutenant, Valenciennes.

LEGRAND, ex-gunner of Grenadiers of the Imperial Guard, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

FOUCART, Barrack-Master, wounded and taken prisoner, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

IZAMBERT, former non-commissioned officer of the Museum Guard, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

PETIT, Sub-Lieutenant of the Young Guard.

MAUJARD, of the Engineers, retired at Conde (Nord), Chevalier of the Legion of Honour.

Boquet, of Conde.

Bourgogne,

_Ex-Grenadier-Velite of the Imperial Guard, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour._

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 71: This fruit was despatched from Tournai in Belgium.--_Author's Note._]

[Footnote 72: Since the Italian campaigns.--_Author's Note._]

[Footnote 73: Died at Valenciennes in 1856.--_Author's Note._]

[Footnote 74: That is to say, in 1835, the date when I was arranging my Memoirs.--_Author's Note._]

[Footnote 75: Queen's Own.]