wounded, and although he spoke lightly of his wound, it was not a
slight one. Moreover, it had been aggravated by want of attention, for
Napoleon's surgeons did not at this time possess the proper appliances
for dressing wounds. Captain Ladoinski's wound had been dressed with
moss and bandaged with parchment! In a few minutes after making this
discovery Madame Ladoinski had bandaged her husband's wound with lint
and linen. It was a great relief to the warrior, and settling down in
a comfortable chair he proceeded to question his wife as to how she had
fared during his absence, and then to relate his own adventures.
Suddenly, as they sat talking, a fierce red light shone into the room,
which had until then been in darkness, except for the feeble glimmer
from a shaded lamp in the corner. Rising quickly, Madame Ladoinski
went to the window, closely followed by her husband, who uttered an
exclamation of surprise when he saw that a fire was raging in the newly
captured city.
Taking up his lance Captain Ladoinski hurried out, to order his men to
assist in subduing the fire, but at the doorway he was met by a
messenger who made known to him Napoleon's command, that the troops
billeted in that portion of the town were not to leave their quarters.
Surprised at this order, Captain Ladoinski returned to his wife, and
together they watched from their window the rapidly extending fire.
The burning part of the city was at a considerable distance from where
they stood, but it seemed to them that unless prompt measures were
taken it would be impossible to save the city from utter destruction.
Hundreds of soldiers were resting near them who might have been busily
employed in checking the progress of the flames. The truth dawned on
both of them. Napoleon did not see his way to save Moscow from this
new calamity.
Now Aimee Ladoinski had resided for some time in Moscow, and its
streets and palaces were familiar to her, and the thought of their
ruthless destruction to thwart the designs of one man filled her with
shame--shame that he who had caused this act of vandalism was a
Frenchman.
Madame Ladoinski did not admire Napoleon, for she was at heart a
Bourbon, and regarded him as an usurper. The reckless sacrifice of
thousands of his fellow countrymen for his own aggrandisement filled
her with loathing for the man, and she did not conceal her feelings
from her husband, who made no attempt to defend the emperor. It was
not for love of him that Captain Ladoinski had fought under 'the Little
Corporal.' He was a Pole, and it was because Napoleon was fighting the
oppressor of the Polish race--Russia--that he fought for the French.
The Russians had been humbled, and he, a Pole, had marched as one of a
victorious army into their capital. But secretly he wondered if the
condition of much-persecuted Poland would be better under Napoleon than
it was under Russia. His wife candidly declared that it would not be.
Napoleon had promised he would free Poland from the Russian yoke, but
she felt convinced that it would simply be to place the country under
French rule.
'And, wherefore,' she said to her husband, as we read in Watson's
_Heroic Women of History_, 'should Poland find such solitary grace in
the eyes of Europe's conquerors? Shall all the nations lie prostrate
at his feet, and Poland alone be permitted to stand by his side as an
equal? Be wise, my dear Ladoinski. You confess that the conqueror
lent but a lifeless ear to the war-cry of your country. Be timely
wise; open your eyes, and see that this cold-hearted victor--wrapped in
his own dark and selfish aims--uses the sword of the patriot Pole only,
like that of the prostrate Prussian, to hew the way to his own throne
of universal dominion.... Believe it, this proud man did not enslave
all Europe to become the liberator of Poland. Ah! trust me, that is
but poor freedom which consists only In a change of masters. O
Ladoinski! Ladoinski! give up this mad emprise; return to the bosom of
your family; and when your compatriots arise to assert their rights at
the call of their country, and not at the heartless beck of a stranger
despot, I will buckle the helmet on your brow.'
Captain Ladoinski was inclined to believe that his wife had spoken the
truth when she said that Napoleon would forget the Poles, now that
Russia was crushed. Posing as a disinterested man eager to deliver the
Poles from the hands of their oppressor, Napoleon had gathered round
him a band of brave men, who fought with the determination of men
fighting for their homes and liberty. They had served his purpose, and
he would reward them, not with the freedom he had promised, but with
the intimation that they were now his subjects. It was a terrible
disappointment, but Captain Ladoinski consoled himself with the belief
that French rule would not be so hard to bear as the Russian had been.
The fire spread apace. It was a grand yet terrible scene, the like of
which, it is to be hoped, will never again be witnessed. Soon the heat
became unbearable in the quarter of the city where the Ladoinskis stood
and watched, and sparks and big flaring brands fell in showers. Unless
they departed quickly they would be burned to death.
Captain Ladoinski could not seek safety in flight, for he had been
commanded to remain in his quarters, and the order had not been
cancelled. Assuring his wife that he would soon be at liberty to leave
his post, he urged her to depart with their child and wait for him
outside the city. This she refused to do, declaring that as long as he
remained where he was she would stay with him. And this determination
he could not alter, although he used every persuasion possible to that
end.
On came the flames, crackling, hissing and roaring, and soon the houses
facing the Ladoinskis would be engulfed in them. The captain would not
quit his post without orders, and his wife would not leave him. Death
seemed certain, and they were preparing to meet it, when suddenly an
order came from head-quarters ordering the troops to evacuate the city
with all despatch. Instantly the retreat began, but many men fell in
the scorching, suffocating streets never to rise again. Captain
Ladoinski and his wife and child had many narrow escapes from the fiery
brands which fell hissing into the roads as they hurried on towards the
suburbs, but fortunately they received no injury.
Arriving on high ground, and safe from the fire's onslaught, the
Ladoinskis stood, with thousands of Napoleon's army, gazing at the
destruction of Moscow. The captain, remembering the havoc which the
Russians had wrought by fire and sword in Warsaw, rejoiced to see their
capital in flames; but his wife checked his rejoicing by warning him
that the destruction of Moscow would not bring freedom to Poland.
And now began Napoleon's retreat. Terrible were the sufferings of the
men, but it is only with Madame Ladoinski's trials that we are
concerned. Knowing that after the burning of Moscow it would be
dangerous for any French person to remain in Russia, she, with many
other people of her nationality, accompanied the French army on its
disastrous retreat. She travelled in a baggage-wagon, which at any
rate afforded her and her child some protection from the frost and
snow. To her the journey was not so terrible an undertaking as to some
of her compatriots, for she had the pleasure of being daily with her
husband, after some years of separation. But her pleasure soon
received a rude shock. The Cossacks hung on with tenacity to the
remains of the great French army, swooping down at unexpected times
upon some dispirited, disorganised section, cutting it to pieces, and
recapturing some of the spoil with which the troops were loaded.
Captain Ladoinski was present when one of these attacks was made, and,
while assisting to repel the attackers, received a dangerous wound. A
place was found for him in the baggage-wagon, and there he lay for
days, tenderly nursed by his wife. The road was blocked in many places
with abandoned guns, dead horses, and broken-down wagons, and
travelling was difficult. Some of the wagons had not broken down
accidentally or through hard wear, but had been tampered with by the
drivers. Many a terrible act was perpetrated in baggage-wagons during
the retreat from Moscow. In these wagons, among the spoil taken from
the capital, were placed the wounded, frequently unattended and without
protection. Many of the drivers, anxious to possess some of the spoil
with which their wagons were loaded, weakened the axle, so that it
should collapse. The bedraggled soldiers would march on, and when the
drivers were well in rear of the force they murdered their wounded
passengers and looted the wagons.
One night Madame Ladoinski was awakened by the stoppage of their wagon.
She had heard stories of the murdering of the wounded by wagon-drivers,
but she had not believed them, and after peeping out at the
snow-covered country, and seeing that soldiers and other wagons were
near, she lay down again, and in a few minutes was sleeping soundly--a
sleep from which in all probability she would not have awakened, so
intense was the cold, had not the wagon arrived at Smolensk, a depot of
the French army, an hour later. Her life was saved by the prompt
attention of a young officer, who glanced into the wagon, and was
surprised to find her lying insensible with her child beside her.
Calling to some brother officers, he jumped into the wagon and poured a
little brandy into Madame Ladoinski's mouth. Then, when she began to
show signs of returning consciousness, he and his companions lifted her
from the wagon to carry her and her boy to a house where they would be
properly warmed, fed and nursed.
On the way some of the officers recognised her as Captain Ladoinski's
wife, and they were naturally surprised to find her in such a sad
condition. 'Where is Ladoinski?' they asked each other; and one
replied that on the previous day he had seen him, wounded, in the wagon
with his wife and child. Some expressed the belief that he had died of
his wounds, but others declared that he must have been murdered by the
wagon-drivers, who, scoundrels though they were, had possessed
sufficient humanity to spare the woman and child.
As in a dream, Madame Ladoinski had heard the conversation of the
officers, and suddenly she grasped the meaning of what they had said.
'My husband! my husband!' she cried, wildly. 'Where is he?'
The officers, distressed at her grief, told her that when the wagon
arrived at Smolensk, she and her boy were the only people in it. Of
her husband they had seen or heard nothing, and the wagon-drivers had
disappeared soon after reaching the city. They endeavoured to cheer
her, however, by assuring her that he was, no doubt, not far away, and
would soon return to her. But she, remembering what they had said when
they believed her to be unconscious, was not calmed by their
well-intentioned words.
Two days passed, and nothing was seen or heard of Captain Ladoinski,
although the officers who had taken an interest in his wife made every
effort to obtain news of him. They were in their own minds convinced
that he was dead, but in order that a searching enquiry might be made,
they obtained for her an interview with two of the most powerful of
Napoleon's officers--the King of Naples and Prince Eugene Beauharnais,
Viceroy of Italy. These officers listened quietly to the story of her
husband's disappearance, and having expressed their sympathy with her,
an aide-de-camp was summoned and ordered to make immediate enquiries
among the wagon-drivers as to the fate of Captain Ladoinski. The
aide-de-camp answered respectfully that he and several of his brother
officers had already closely questioned every wagon-driver they could
find, and that the men had sworn that Captain Ladoinski had died during
the night of cold and of his wounds, and that his body had been thrown
out into the snow. Madame Ladoinski, they declared, was insensible
from cold when her husband died.
Clasping her boy, Madame Ladoinski burst into tears. For a few minutes
she sat sobbing bitterly, but then, in the midst of her grief, she
remembered that she was encroaching on the time of the officers before
her. Controlling her tears as well as she was able, she asked for a
safe-conduct for herself and child. As a Frenchwoman and the widow of
a Polish rebel she would receive, she reminded her hearers, no mercy if
she fell into the hands of the Russians. Her husband had fought for
the French, and she claimed French protection. Instantly the two
marshals declared that she should have the protection she asked, and
Prince Eugene offered her a seat in a wagon that would accompany his
division when it started in the course of a few days.
Madame Ladoinski accepted the offer with gratitude, whereupon the
aide-de-camp was informed that she was to be placed in a baggage-wagon,
and that the drivers were to be told that if their passengers did not
reach the end of the journey in safety they would answer for it with
their lives. On the other hand, if she arrived safely in Poland, and
declared that she and her boy had been well-treated on the way, each
driver would receive five hundred francs.
In a few days Madame Ladoinski was once again in a baggage-wagon; but
Napoleon's 'Grand Army' was now in a terrible condition. Ragged,
starving, dispirited by the constant harassing from the enemy, and the
continuous marching through snow, it made but slow progress. The
gloomy forests through which the miserable army tramped on its way to
attempt the passage of the Beresina were blocked with snow, and so
difficult was it to move the guns that Napoleon ordered that one half
of the baggage-wagons were to be destroyed, so that the horses and oxen
might be utilised for dragging forward the artillery. The wagon in
which Madame Ladoinski rode was one of the number condemned to
destruction, but the men who had been ordered to protect her speedily
found room for her in another vehicle.
A day or two later, when the bedraggled army was nearing the Polish
frontier, Madame Ladoinski was startled from her dejection by hearing
loud joyful shouts, and on enquiring of the driver the reason of the
noise she was told that a reinforcement under Marshal Victor had
unexpectedly arrived.
Soon the reinforcements were passing the wagon, but Madame Ladoinski
possessed neither the energy nor the curiosity to glance out at them.
She could think of nothing but her dead husband and her little orphaned
boy. But suddenly as she sat brooding over her great loss she heard,
'Forward, lancers!' uttered in Polish. Believing that it was her
husband's voice she had heard, she sprang up and looked out at the
troop trotting ahead. But she could not recognise her husband among
the lancers, and she turned to sit down, believing that she was the
victim of a delusion. To her surprise she saw her little son standing,
with a finger uplifted to urge silence, listening eagerly.
'What is it, darling?' she asked.
'Father!' he replied.
Again Madame Ladoinski's spirits rose, but they fell quickly when she
remembered that the Polish Lancers had quitted Smolensk before she and
her boy arrived there. It was madness, therefore, to imagine that her
wounded husband could be with Marshal Victor's army, and she dismissed
the hope from her mind.
Days of terrible suffering for Napoleon's army followed, but eventually
Studzianka, on the left bank of the Beresina, was reached, and the
soldiers hoped that once in Poland their trials would diminish. Madame
Ladoinski, her spirits reviving at the prospect of soon being in her
husband's native land, lay listening to the noise of the men busily
engaged in building the bridges over which the French army was to pass.
Suddenly there was a tremendous uproar; shouts of joy, cries of
triumph. Looking out Madame Ladoinski saw at once the cause of the
excitement--the enemy who had been encamped on the opposite bank of the
river was in full retreat. The fierce battle which she had dreaded, in
case her boy might be injured, would not be fought. Falling on her
knees in the wagon, she thanked God for averting the danger she feared.
Now that the Russians were gone, the cavalry swam their horses across
the river, and took up a position that would protect the crossing of
the foot soldiers. The bridges were completed at last, and quickly the
ragged regiments hurried over them. The baggage-wagons were to be left
until the last, and for hours Madame Ladoinski sat watching regiment
after regiment hurry across. Napoleon, stern and silent, passed close
to her, and a mighty shout of 'Vive L'Empereur' burst from his
trusting, long-suffering troops, when he gained the opposite bank.
Soon after Napoleon had crossed, Prince Eugene came along, and seeing
Madame Ladoinski he rode over to her, and told her cheerfully that she
would soon be among her husband's friends, and that her trials would
then be at an end. Then, turning to the drivers, he commanded them not
to forget the order he had given concerning their behaviour and care of
the lady entrusted to them.
When at last more than half the troops had crossed, the news arrived
that the Russians had suddenly turned about and were marching back to
the position they had vacated, while another strong body of the enemy
was advancing to attack in the rear the troops which had not yet
crossed. Instantly there was a panic, and the wagon-drivers, anxious
for their own safety, turned Madame Ladoinski and her companions out of
the wagon, so that their weight might not impede their progress.
Madame Ladoinski reminded them of Prince Eugene's instructions, but
they took no notice. Neither fear of punishment nor hope of reward had
any influence over them now; they were anxious only for their own
safety.
For a minute or two Madame Ladoinski knew not what to do. To attempt
to cross either of the bridges on foot would, she soon saw, result in
her and her child being crushed to death. Others, men and women, had
come to the same conclusion, and were wandering, shivering with cold,
along the bank of the river. These Madame Ladoinski hastened to,
believing, as did they, that before long the bridges would be less
crowded, and they would be able to cross in safety.
But soon the sound of the Russian guns was heard in the rear of Madame
Ladoinski and her fellow-sufferers, and a little later the cheers of
the advancing enemy could be heard distinctly. Marshal Victor's force,
which lay between these unfortunate people and the Russians, fought
gallantly at first, but at last they began to give way, and Madame
Ladoinski feared that all was lost. Nearer and nearer came the enemy,
and many of their musket balls reached the despairing creatures by the
riverside. Approaching nearer to one of the bridges, Madame Ladoinski
decided to join the crowd of terrified fugitives that was struggling
across it. But before she reached it there was a terrible rush for it,
and she stood aghast looking at the awful scene. Every one in the
living mass was terrified, and each was fighting for his own life.
Those who fell were quickly trampled to death by the hurrying mob, or
crushed beneath the wheels of baggage-wagons and artillery. Now and
again some terrified man, possessed of more than average strength,
would be seen making his way along the crowded bridge by seizing and
pitching into the river any who barred his way. And to add to the
horror of the scene a terrible storm burst.
Madame Ladoinski, horrified by what she saw, decided to make no attempt
to cross, but to remain where she was. Musket balls were now falling
rapidly around her, and, to save her boy from the chance of being
wounded, she laid him down on the ground, and placed herself in such a
position that no ball could touch him unless it passed through her.
Thick and fast the balls were flying, and Madame Ladoinski expected to
receive at any minute a fatal wound, but, although men and women fell
close around her, she remained unhurt.
Slowly but surely Victor's men were driven back on the crowd that was
still struggling to cross the bridge, and whose condition was made
still more awful by the Russian infantry firing on it.
At last some of the regiments fled in disorder before the advancing
enemy, and a troop of horse dashed back within a few yards of Madame
Ladoinski.
'Stand, lancers, stand!' the officer was shouting to his men, and his
voice sent a thrill of joy through Madame Ladoinski, for it was her
husband's.
She was confident of it this time, and almost immediately a strong gust
of wind blew aside the smoke, which hung heavily over the battlefield,
and there, not many yards away, was he whom she had believed to be
dead. In stirring tones he called upon his men to charge once again
into the ranks of the enemy.
'My love, my husband!' Madame Ladoinski called, still sheltering her
boy with her body. 'It is I, it is Aimee.' But the din of warfare and
the roaring of the wind drowned her voice. Again she called, but still
he did not hear.
'Lancers! forward,' he shouted. 'For God and Poland! 'For God and
Poland!' his men answered, and spurring their horses they dashed
forward once more to meet the enemy. Ladoinski had not seen his wife,
and perhaps he would never see her again! Madame Ladoinski wept
quietly; but as night began to draw nigh she determined to cross the
bridge, thinking that she and her boy might as well risk being crushed
on the bridge as being shot by the enemy. But when she saw the crowd
of human beings turned by terror into demons, she decided to remain
where she was.
A few minutes later, as she lay protecting her boy and gazing at the
struggling mob, she saw the largest bridge sway, and almost instantly
it collapsed and fell, with its struggling mass of human beings, into
the icy river. For a few minutes the terrified shrieks of the drowning
men and women were heard even amidst the noise of battle and the
roaring of the wind; then they ceased.
It seemed to Madame Ladoinski that there was to be no end to the
terrors of that day. She felt that she was going out of her mind, and
prayed that she and her boy might die quickly.
Throughout the night Madame Ladoinski lay beside her boy in the snow.
But she did not sleep a minute. The thunder of the enemy's artillery,
the sound of the musketry, and the noise of the disordered mob of
soldiers who fought like demons to get safely across the one remaining
bridge, would have prevented almost anyone from sleeping.
When daylight came the Russians were so near that it was clear to
Madame Ladoinski that unless she crossed the bridge immediately she
would soon be a prisoner. Lifting her boy, and sheltering him as much
as possible, she hurried towards the bridge, but two or three times,
when the enemy's fire increased in severity, she took cover for a few
minutes. At last she reached the bridge. The crowd was not now great,
and it would have been possible for her to cross without any fear of
her boy being crushed, but no sooner had they put their feet on the
bridge when shouts of 'Go back, go back! Give yourselves up to the
Russians,' burst from their comrades who had already crossed the river.
Stupefied, the people fell back, and almost at the same moment the last
bridge burst into flames. To prevent the Russians from pursuing them,
the French had burnt the bridge and left hundreds of their fellow
countrymen to fall into the hands of the enemy.