to be burned under his own eyes; the Prince of Neufchâtel led several horses over with his own hands.”

“One’s pen,” says Constant, “simply refuses to depict the scenes of horror that were witnessed at the Beresina. Vehicles of all kinds drove up to the bridge literally over heaps of bodies that lay blocking up the road. Whole crowds of wretched soldiers fell into the river and perished among the blocks of ice. Others clung to the planks of the bridge, suspended over the abyss, until the wheels of the carts passed over their fingers and compelled them to relinquish their hold. Caissons, wagons, drivers, and horses went down together.”

“One woman was seen,” says de B., “caught between the blocks of ice, holding up her baby in the air and imploring the passers-by to save it from a watery grave.”

“I saw soldiers,” says the author of the Journal de la Guerre, “clinging to their neighbours to save themselves from falling. I saw the feeble, tottering as they went, yet still pressing feverishly forward, jostling one another so that whole rows of them fell into the water together, toppling over like houses of cards. If a Cossack showed himself, or any one repeated the word ‘Cossack’ two or three times, the whole army of fugitives were seized with such panic that they dashed hither and thither, backwards and forwards, slipping and falling headlong into the river.”

Beyond the Beresina the cold became even more severe. The whole country round was covered with snow. Even the villages, buried in the drifts, no longer broke the monotony of the horizon, and they could only be distinguished by the smoke and flame of burning houses fired by the inhabitants or by fugitives from the French army.

“The soldiers,” says Ségur, “were perpetually burning down whole houses, merely for the sake of warming themselves for a few minutes at the blaze. The glare would attract some poor creatures who had partly lost their wits through cold and privation. Grinding their teeth, and yelling with unearthly laughter, they would leap into and perish in the flames, while their comrades looked on with calm unconcerned countenances. The bystanders sometimes pulled out their burnt and disfigured bodies and, horrible to relate, devoured them.”

“The road was so thickly covered with dead and dying,” says the author of the Journal de la Guerre, “that one had to exercise the greatest care to avoid treading on them. Marching, as we were, in a compact mass, one had no choice but to step on or over these poor wretches who lay writhing in their death agony. One could hear the death rattle in their throats, but it was useless to think of giving them any assistance.”

“In the sheds by the roadside,” says Ségur, “were to be seen spectacles of indescribable horror. Many of our men who sheltered there for the night found their comrades in the morning frozen by scores around the remains of the fires. In order to get out of these charnel-houses one had to clamber over heaps of poor wretches, many of whom were still breathing.”

“I could never understand,” says Constant, “why in our wretched plight we must needs continue to play the rôle of conquerors, and drag captives along with us, to the infinite discomfort of our own men. The unfortunate Russians, half dead with fatigue and famine, were herded together in a large open space like cattle. A multitude of them died in the night; the rest sat huddled together for the sake of warmth. Those who died of the cold continued to sit cheek by jowl with the living. Some of the prisoners ate the bodies of their dead comrades.”

It is interesting to note that all this went on within a few yards of Napoleon’s head-quarters—a wooden house, the windows of which had to be stuffed with hay and straw.

When Napoleon left the troops, their confusion, and consequently their misery, became, if possible, worse than before. The army needed the arm of a giant to help it to bear its miseries, but meanwhile the giant abandoned it. On the very first night one of the generals refused to obey orders, and the Marshal in command of the rear-guard had to attend the King’s head-quarters almost alone. Round these head-quarters lay all that was left of the Grande Armée, 3000 files of the Old and Young Guard. When Napoleon’s departure became known, discipline suffered a severe blow, even among these seasoned veterans.

“There were some among them who had covered two hundred leagues without daring to look back; sauve qui peut was the order of the day.

“All that were left of the baggage-wagons after the passage of the Beresina, including the Emperor’s, had to be finally abandoned near the Tamari post-house at the foot of an ice-covered declivity on the further side of Vilna. The continual arrival of more vehicles behind those that had been abandoned intensified the prevailing lawlessness and disorder. Russians and French were soon mingled in an inextinguishable crowd round the wagon-loads of French treasure.”

“Every one,” says the author of the Journal de la Guerre, “took what he pleased from the contents of the carriages and carts. I saw wagons full of gold and silver looted in the middle of the road, partly by Frenchmen, partly by Cossacks, without any display of hostility between them. I made my way into the midst of them, and not one of the Russians attempted to molest me.”

At the Russian frontier, two kings, one prince, eight marshals, a few generals and officers, roaming aimlessly about, together with a few men of the Old Guard who still carried muskets, were all that remained of the Grande Armée.