FROM THE BÉRÉZINA TO WILNA--THE JEWS.
I had been walking in advance of the regiment for about half an hour,
when I met a sergeant of the Fusiliers-Chasseurs whom I knew. He seemed
very happy about something (a most unusual thing), so I asked him if he
had anything to eat.
'I have found some potatoes,' he said, 'in this village.'
I raised my head and saw that we were actually in a village at that
moment. Walking with my eyes fixed on the ground, I had not noticed it.
When I heard the word 'potatoes' I stopped him to ask in which house
he had found them, and I ran there as fast as my legs would carry me.
After much searching, I had the luck to find three little potatoes
under an oven, about the size of nuts. I half cooked them on an almost
extinct fire I found a little distance off the road. When they were
done enough, I ate them with a bit of horseflesh, but I hardly tasted
them, as the fever I had on me for the last few days had destroyed my
appetite entirely, and I was sure that if it continued I should soon be
dead.
When the regiment passed I took my place, and we marched as far as
Ziemben, where the Emperor, with part of the Guard, had already
arrived. We could see him gazing at the road to Borisow on our
left, where we were told the Russians would come. Several of the
horse-Guards were sent on in front, but no Russians were to be seen
that day. The Emperor slept at Kamen with half the Guard, and we, the
Fusiliers, Grenadiers, and Chasseurs, spent the night close by.
On the 30th the Emperor and his suite slept at Plechnitzié. We
bivouacked some distance off. We arrived there on the following day,
and heard that Marshal Oudinot had only just escaped being made
prisoner there; that 2,000 Russians, with two field-pieces, had entered
the place, and that the Marshal, although wounded, had entrenched
himself in a house with twenty-five men, both officers and privates,
many of them wounded. The Russians, astounded at these preparations
for defence with so small a number of men, had retired on to some
heights overlooking the house, and laid siege to it till the arrival
of the Emperor with the troop of the Rhine Confederation and part of
the Guard. As we passed, we looked at the house, pierced through by
balls in many places. It seemed strange to us how 2,000 Cossacks had
not sufficient courage to take an old wooden house defended by only
twenty-five men.
On the next day, December 1st, we left early in the morning, and after
an hour's march we reached a village, where the Fusiliers-Chasseurs had
spent the night. They were waiting to set out with us. I made inquiries
if there was anything to buy there, and was told by a sergeant-major
that there was some gin to be had from a Jew. He took me to the place,
and seeing the Jew with a long beard, I asked him politely in German if
he had any gin for sale. 'No,' he answered rudely, 'I have none; the
French have taken it all.' I said nothing, but I knew perfectly well he
was telling a lie, and that he was only afraid of not being paid.
Just then a girl of fourteen or fifteen jumped down from a great stove
she had been sitting on, and coming up to me, she said: 'If you will
give me your silver lace, I will let you have a glass of brandy.' I
said yes, so she took off the silver braid belonging to my haversack,
worth thirty francs, which I had brought from Moscow. She hid it
immediately in her dress, and gave me a miserable bit of cord instead.
If I had allowed her, she would have taken the surgeon's pocket-case I
had got from the Cossack, as she caught sight of the silver fittings.
She then brought me a glass of very bad gin, but I felt so sick I could
hardly swallow it. She also gave me a small oval-shaped cheese, the
size of a hen's egg, smelling of aniseed. I put it carefully in my
haversack, and went out.
I was hardly in the open air, when the abominable spirit flew to my
head. I was obliged to cross a broad deep ditch on a tree thrown over
to serve as a bridge. I danced across this without falling, and rushed
in the same way amongst my comrades. More than that, I took hold of
their arms, singing and trying to make them dance. Several of them,
even officers, gathered round me, asking me what was the matter. I only
sang and danced the more. The sergeant-major of our company took me a
little way apart, and asked me where I came from. I told him that I had
had some drink. 'Where?' 'Come with me,' I said. He followed, and we
crossed the tree, holding each other by the hand. On the other side a
friend of mine took my arm. This was a sergeant-major named Leboude, a
Liègeois. He had just heard what I had been doing. When we got to the
Jew's house, I told them if they had any gold or silver lace they could
get some gin. 'If that's all,' said the Liègeois, 'here it is.' He had
a very nice Astrakan cap, with a gold braid round it. The young Jewess
took matters into her own hands again, and ripped off the braid. They
gave us some gin, and we came away; but we were hardly out of the
house, when the same kind of frenzy came over me, worse than before.
It took hold of the Liègeois also, and he and I danced together. The
sergeant-major looked at us, telling us to march back and rejoin our
regiment. Instead of answering, we each took one of his arms, and
danced towards the tree over the ditch. There the Liègeois slipped
and fell, dragging the sergeant-major into the ditch, and me also.
Under the snow in the ditch were more than two hundred dead bodies,
thrown there during the last two days. At this sudden collapse the
sergeant-major shrieked with rage and terror, swearing loudly at us. We
were none of us hurt, however, and the Liègeois began to sing and dance
afresh.
We had not the strength to get out again. Ice was everywhere under the
snow, and when we got away from the dead bodies, it was too slippery to
walk. If a company of Westphalians had not passed at that moment, there
we should have stayed. They threw us ropes at first, but our hands were
too much frozen to hold them. At last they put down the side of a cart,
making a kind of ladder, and they helped us to mount by it. The fall
had sobered the Liègeois and me a little. We rejoined the regiment,
which had halted near a wood, and resumed our march. A mile farther on
we met Prince Eugène, the vice-King of Italy, at the head of a small
number of officers and a few Grenadiers of the Royal Guard, grouped
round their colours. They were completely exhausted with fatigue. We
made a good distance on that day, leaving a great many far behind. We
found a deserted village, where we slept, and plenty of straw to lie
down in. Horseflesh we had in abundance, but no saucepans to stew it or
make soup in. We were therefore obliged, as on the preceding days,
to eat some of the meat roasted; but at least we could sleep under
shelter and make fires. During the night I was obliged to go out into
the air several times, as I was quite unaccustomed to the heat of the
houses.
[Illustration: ON THE ROAD BETWEEN BRAUNSBERG AND ELBING, DECEMBER 21,
1812.
_From a sketch made at the time by an officer of Napoleon's army. The
figure with the sword under the arm is Napoleon in the costume worn
during the Russian campaign._]
On the next day we started early; this was December 2nd. My fever came
on again, and my legs almost gave way under me, so that after an hour's
march I found myself behind the others. I went through a small village
filled with stragglers, but I passed through without stopping. A little
further on I saw large numbers of men gathered outside some houses busy
roasting horseflesh. General Maison passed by and stopped, telling
everyone to follow him if they wished to escape the Russian cavalry,
now not far off. Most of the men, however, were too much famished and
too demoralized to listen; they would not leave their fires till they
had eaten, and many of them were prepared to defend the piece of meat
they held against the enemy. I went on my way. Further on I met several
men of my company, and begged them not to leave me; they promised me
they would follow me anywhere--that they were quite indifferent where
they went. In the evening we stopped near a wood for the night. Already
several men from different corps were there, especially of the Italian
army, and a few Grenadiers of the 1st regiment of the Guard, of whom I
asked news of Picart. They said they had seen him the day before, but
that he seemed quite mad, and they thought his brain was affected.
I had never till now thought of looking in poor Gros-Jean's knapsack,
which he had given me at the Bérézina bridge. Now, as I felt certain he
could not return, I opened it before two men of our company who were
with me, and were, moreover, in his squadron. I found nothing of any
importance, except a handkerchief containing oatmeal mixed with rye.
One of the men happening to have a saucepan lid, we cooked the meal. I
also found an old pair of shoes, but there was not a shirt, of which I
was in great need; the rest was quite useless to me.
There was, fortunately, a great deal of wood about, so we made a
large fire. The cold was endurable while the night lasted, but in the
morning (the 3rd) a north wind got up, bringing with it twenty degrees
of frost. We were forced to begin our march, as it was impossible to
remain still. We started after eating some horseflesh, just following
in the steps of those who walked before us, who knew no more than we
did where they were, or in what direction they were going. The sun
shone brilliantly, and the cold decreased a little; so we made good
progress, stopping every now and then at houses with deserted bivouac
fires. As far as I can remember, we slept in a posting-station.
The sun which we had enjoyed the day before was the forerunner of a
terrible frost. I cannot write of this day, for I truly do not know
how I got through it. When my comrades spoke to me, I answered as if I
were mad. The cold was intolerable. Many took the first road they came
to, in the hope of finding houses of some kind as shelter. We lost our
way at last in following some Poles, who were going to Varsovia. One
of them who spoke French assured me that we were more than a league
from the road to Wilna. We tried to retrace our steps, and we lost
ourselves again. We met three officers, followed by more than a hundred
unfortunate men from different corps and of different nations, half
dead with cold and want. When they heard from us that they were lost,
many of them cried like children.
We were now near a pine-wood, so we decided to bivouac there with the
men we had met. They had a horse, which we killed and divided amongst
us. Two fires were made, and everyone cooked his meat at the point of
his sword or a stick. When we had finished our meal, we gathered round
the fires, and arranged that a quarter of the number should keep watch,
as we feared we might be taken by the Russians, who were following the
army on both sides of the road. An hour later the snow began to fall,
and a high wind got up, driving us under the shelters we had made. The
wind grew furious, driving the snow into the shelters, and entirely
preventing us from sleeping, though we wanted it badly enough. I slept,
however, seated on my knapsack, with my fur-lined collar on my head to
keep off the snow. How many times during this miserable night I longed
for my bearskin coat!
I did not sleep long, as a violent gust of wind carried away the
shelter. I and my two men were forced to walk about to keep ourselves
from freezing. When the dawn came at last, we set out on our march,
leaving seven men behind in the bivouac, three of whom were already
dead, and four unconscious.
At about eight o'clock we reached the high road, and after countless
difficulties we arrived at Molodetschno at three in the afternoon,
amid a rabble of men of all corps, especially of the army of Italy.
The Emperor had slept here. We tried to find shelter for the night in
some barn or stable, but found we were too late. We had to be content
with a half-burnt house with no roof, and three-quarters filled with
men already; but we considered ourselves lucky in getting any kind of
shelter against the fearful cold, which went on increasing until we got
to Wilna.
I heard later that it was from this place that the Emperor despatched
his twenty-ninth bulletin, which caused such a sensation in France,
announcing the destruction of our army. It was broad daylight when we
started on the 5th. Mechanically we followed 10,000 men in front of
us, marching in confusion, without knowing where they went. We crossed
several marshes, where we should have all probably sunk and perished,
but for the severe frost. Those who lagged behind were in no danger
of losing their way, for the numbers of fallen men on the road served
as guides. We arrived the next day at Brenitza. The Emperor had slept
there, and had already left. This day we were more fortunate. I was
able to buy a little flour, and we made some hasty-pudding; but we had
not the luck to find a roofless house again, and were obliged to spend
the night in the street. It was so bitterly cold that we got no sleep.
The next morning we set off for Smorgony. The road was full of officers
of different corps, and the remnants of the Doomed Squadron and
Battalion, wrapped in worn-out furs, and half-burnt garments. Some had
not even these, having, no doubt, parted with them for their friends.
Many of them walked leaning on sticks, their beards and hair a mass of
ice; others, no longer able to walk, looked vainly at the miserable men
passing along the road, trying to find some part of the regiments they
had commanded a fortnight before, and get help or an arm to lean on. It
was all over, I fear, with those who could not walk.
The roads were like battlefields, there were so many dead bodies; but
as the snow fell all the time, the horror of the sight was softened.
We had lost all sense of pity, besides; we were insensible even to our
own sufferings, let alone those of others. The men who fell imploring
help were not listened to. Thus we arrived at Smorgony, on the 6th.
On entering the town, we heard that the Emperor had left the evening
before, at ten o'clock, for France, leaving the command of the army to
King Murat. Many of the foreigners took advantage of this circumstance
to blame the Emperor, but the step he took was a perfectly natural
one, as, owing to Malet's conspiracy, his presence was necessary in
France, not only for the administration, but to organize a new army.
Amongst the numbers of dying men constantly arriving were others who
were well dressed and vigorous, evidently foreigners, and these all
exclaimed loudly at the Emperor's conduct. I have often thought since
that these men were agents from England, come to create disaffection in
the army.
In the crowd I lost one of the men who had been with me, but I had no
time to look for him, I was so afraid of losing shelter for the night.
Seeing an officer from Baden, who belonged to the garrison of the town,
I followed him with my other man. He went to a Jew's house where he was
quartered, and, seeing us after him, made no objection to our entrance.
We sat down near a warm stove. One must go through the misery and
suffering we had experienced to understand the delight of being in a
warm house and having the prospect of a good night.
In the same room there was a young officer on the staff, ill with fever
and lying on a wretched sofa. He told me that he had been ill ever
since Orcha, and as he could go no farther, there was probably an end
of him, as he would certainly be taken by the Russians. 'God knows,' he
said, 'what will come of it, and what my poor mother will say when she
learns!'
The Baden officer, who could speak French, tried to comfort him by
saying that he would get him a horse for his sledge, as his own was
dead. He promised soup and meat to us, but during the night he left
with the rest of the garrison. The poor officer grew worse, and was
delirious all night, and as for us, we got neither soup nor meat. We
had only a few onions and some nuts the Jew had sold us, dearly enough,
but the shelter was well worth the money.
After our rest we set out early on the 7th, as quietly as possible, so
that the young officer might not hear us, as we could not possibly do
anything for him. There were very few people on the road, and after
a time we rested near a ruined barn. After half an hour, the column
of the Imperial Guard came in sight; the fragment of our regiment was
there, marching in as much order as possible. I joined their ranks.
When we halted, they asked me, in an indifferent way, if I had found
any food during the four days I had been away. When I told them I had
nothing, they turned their backs to me, cursing and banging the butts
of their muskets on the ground.
We continued our march, and got to Joupranouï very late; almost all
the houses here were burnt, and the rest deserted, without roofs or
doors. We huddled together as best we could, and as there was plenty of
horseflesh, I cooked some ready for the next day.
On the 8th it was late when we started, but the cold was so intense
that the men set fire to the houses to warm themselves. All the houses
contained unfortunate soldiers, many of whom had not the strength to
save themselves, and perished in the flames.
In the middle of the day we got to a small town the name of which I
have forgotten. They told us that distributions of rations were to be
made here, but we soon heard that the shops had been pillaged before
our arrival, and that the people who had charge of the distributions
had got away, and the commissaries also. We continued our route,
therefore, striding over the dead and dying on our way. When we halted
near a wood, one of the men of our company caught sight of a horse,
and we gathered round to kill him, and each take some of the flesh;
but as we had no knives or hatchets to cut it, we killed it for the
sake of the blood, which we collected in a saucepan taken from a German
_cantinière_. Finding a deserted bivouac fire, we began to cook the
blood, putting some powder in it for seasoning, but it was only half
done when we caught sight of a legion of Cossacks. We had just time to
eat it as it was, and this we had to do from our hands, so that our
faces and clothes were covered with blood. We were ghastly objects to
look at.
This halt, caused by some difficulty with the artillery, had gathered
together more than 30,000 men of all nations, making a spectacle
impossible to describe. We started off again, and reached a large
village three or four leagues from Wilna. I recognised the village
for the same we had stayed at five months before, in going from Wilna
to Moscow. Here I had lost a trophy, that is to say, a little box
containing rings, hair necklaces, and portraits of the mistresses I had
had in all the countries I had visited. I was much grieved at losing
my collection. On the 9th we left Wilna, in twenty-eight degrees of
frost.[56] Scarcely 2,000 arrived at Wilna, out of two divisions of
more than 10,000. These, both French and Neapolitans, had joined us
during the last two days. This enormous number was lost during this
terrible journey. The men were well clothed, and wanted for nothing
but food. They had left good quarters in Lithuania and Pomerania only
a few days before. When they came they were filled with pity for our
condition, but in two days they were worse off than we. They were less
demoralized, and at first they tried to help each other; but when
they saw what deprivation this meant, they grew as selfish as all the
others, officers and privates alike.
I had plucked up a little courage in the hope of soon getting to Wilna,
where we should have abundant food. I should call the efforts we made
superhuman. This terrible cold was more than I had ever felt before.
I was almost fainting, and we seemed to walk through an atmosphere of
ice. How often in the dreadful time did I long for my bearskin cloak,
which had saved me so often in cold like this! I could hardly breathe:
my nose felt frozen; my lips were glued together; my eyes streamed,
dazzled by the snow. I was forced to stop and cover my face with my
fur collar to melt the ice. In this style I got to a barn where there
was a fire burning, and where one could breathe a little. In all the
buildings we passed were unfortunate men not able to get any further,
and waiting there to die.
Now we could see the spires and roofs of Wilna. I tried to hurry on
to get there amongst the first, but the old Chasseurs of the Guard
prevented me. They blocked up the road in such a manner that no one
could pass them without marching in order. These veterans, with ice
hanging to their beards and moustaches, marched on, controlling their
own sufferings to keep order in the ranks; but this order it was
impossible to maintain. Once in the outskirts of the town, everything
was in confusion. At the door of a house I saw one of my old friends of
the Grenadiers lying dead. They had arrived an hour before us. A house
was chosen for our battalion, and a distribution of beef was made. We
had not the sense to put it all together and make soup. We each fell
on our allowance like wild beasts, every man cooking or warming it
as he could, and some even devouring it raw. One of my friends named
Poton, who was a Breton gentleman, and a sergeant in my company, waited
impatiently for his piece, about half a pound. As he was a short
distance off, it was thrown to him. He caught it with both hands, like
a cat, and began eating it convulsively, in spite of everything we
could do to prevent him. He was incapable of seeing anything but the
meat before him.
Soon afterwards I went into the town to see if I could not buy some
bread and a little brandy. But the doors were almost all shut and
bolted. The inhabitants, although our friends, had taken fright on
seeing fifty or sixty thousand famished men, most of whom looked
imbecile or mad. Many of our men had rushed about like lunatics,
knocking at all the doors and shops, but had been refused, as the
contractors wished to do everything in order. This was impossible, as
order did not exist.
I soon saw that I could not get what I wanted, and was about to go
back to my quarters, when I heard my name called. I turned round, and
to my great surprise saw Picart, who threw himself on my neck, crying
with joy. He had come across the regiment twice since we passed the
Bérézina, but they had assured him that I was dead or taken prisoner.
He said he had some flour, which I should share with him; and as for
brandy, he would take me to his Jew, who would furnish me with that,
and perhaps bread as well. I begged him to take me there while we were
waiting for the distribution of rations. This we were sure to have
later, as the shops were full.
I shall never forget the curious effect an inhabited house had on me.
It seemed to me years since I had seen one. Picart gave me a little
brandy, which I had great difficulty in swallowing. I then bought
a bottle for twenty francs, which I carefully stowed away in my
haversack. As to bread, I must wait for that till evening. For fifty
days I had not tasted any, and it seemed that if only I could eat a
little I should forget all my miseries. The Jew told me that the men
who had arrived first in the morning had devoured everything. He
advised us not to leave his house, even to sleep there, and that he
would undertake to get us everything we wanted, also to prevent others
from coming in. Taking his advice, I settled down to rest on a bench
near the stove.
I asked Picart how it happened that he was on such friendly terms with
the Jew, as I noticed they treated him as a member of the family. He
said that he had passed himself off as the son of a Jewess, and that
during the fortnight we had spent in the town in July he had attended
their synagogue with them, and in consequence of this he had always got
some schnapps to drink and some nuts to crack.
I had not laughed for long enough, but I burst out into a roar at this,
until the blood poured down my lips. Picart went on with his funny
stories, until suddenly we heard a rattle of artillery, and our host
came hurriedly in. He looked dazed, and could not speak. At last he
said that he had seen some Bavarian soldiers, followed by Cossacks,
enter by the same gate at which we had come in.
The garrison of the town just then sounded the call. When Picart heard
it, he seized his arms and came up to where I sat, unwilling to move.
'Come, _mon pays_,' he said, striking me on the shoulder; 'we belong
to the Imperial Guard, and should be the first to go. We must not let
these savages eat our bread. If you have strength, follow me, and we'll
join with fellows who'll turn out these rascals.'
I followed Picart. A few men ran to join they hardly knew what, but a
great number walked off as far as they could get, and the most part,
quite indifferent to everything, paid no attention to what was going on.
When we got near the gate leading to the faubourg, we met a detachment
of Grenadiers and Chasseurs of the Guard. Picart left me to take his
proper place, and as I saw a few of our men following, and also some
officers, I followed also, without knowing who commanded us or where we
were going. We went up a mountain without any pretence of order, each
one going as he could; many fell and remained behind. We had climbed,
perhaps, two-thirds of the height--and I was astonished at having got
so far--when I fell; and although helped up by a Lithuanian peasant, I
could hardly rise. I begged the man not to leave me, and to secure his
services I gave him about four francs in Russian money and some brandy
in the little cup I still kept. The peasant was so delighted that I
believe he would have carried me on his back. We went on over ground
covered with dead men and horses. There were a great many firearms
lying about. My peasant picked up a carbine and some cartridges, saying
that he wished to fight the Russians himself. After great difficulty
we at last reached the top of the mountain, where the Prussians were
already fighting. Two hundred men, three-parts belonging to the Guard,
were facing the enemy, consisting of cavalry, many of whom were scouts.
As the Bavarians had in retreating left some men behind them, with two
pieces of artillery, two discharges of grape-shot were sufficient to
disperse them. As the position was untenable on account of the cold,
we faced about to return to the town, where the greatest disorder
prevailed. The garrison, almost entirely composed of foreigners, was
in a state of panic. Some were preparing to leave the town, loading
carts, sledges, and horses. On all sides we heard cries of 'Who has
seen my horse?' 'Where has my cart got to?' 'Stop the man who is off
with my sledge.' This disorder was mainly caused by the thieves who
had followed us all through the retreat, and of whom I have spoken
before. Now, seeing a good opportunity, they took advantage of it by
seizing carts, horses, and sledges loaded with provisions, gold, and
silver. The arrangements for departure were made by the commissariat,
contractors, and other army employés, who now were making common cause
with us. The thieves thus fled along the Kowno road, sure of not being
pursued.
On entering the faubourg, I avoided the house where our battalion was
quartered. I had two reasons for going into the town: firstly, for the
bread I was to share with Picart; secondly, to let him know that I had
taken part in the little expedition which had beaten the Russians. I
ran to the right to find Picart, but to my surprise I was told that he
had taken the first turning to the left, with ten other Grenadiers and
Chasseurs, to be on guard for Murat. Murat had just left the town for
the faubourg on the Kowno road.
I decided to look for him at Murat's quarters. On the way I passed
the house where Marshal Ney was staying. Several Grenadiers of the
line were before the door, warming themselves by a large fire, which
gave me a terrible longing to be there, too. Seeing how wretched I
looked, they made room for me. Many of them were quite strong and well
dressed. When I showed my surprise at their appearance, they said they
had not been as far as Moscow; they had been wounded at the siege of
Smolensk, and left at Wilna, where they had remained ever since. Now
they were well again and fit for fighting. I asked them if they could
get me some bread. They answered as the Jew had done--that if I would
return that evening, or stay with them, they were certain that I should
have some. But, as I was obliged to go back to the battalion, I told
the Grenadiers that I would return, and that I would give five francs
for each loaf. Before leaving them, they told me that just before
I arrived a German General had come to the Marshal, and had advised
him to leave if he did not wish to be surprised by the Russians; but
the Marshal had replied, pointing to a hundred Grenadiers warming
themselves in the courtyard, that with those he could afford to laugh
at all the Cossacks in Russia, and that he would sleep in the town.
I asked how many there were in the Marshal's body-guard.
'About sixty,' answered a drummer sitting on his drum; 'and another
sixty we found here well and fit. I have been with the Marshal ever
since the crossing of the Dnieper, and with him at our back we can
manage those dogs of Cossacks. _Coquin de Dieu!_' he said, 'if it were
not so cold, and if I hadn't frozen hands, I would sound the attack
myself all day to-morrow.'
I returned to the faubourg, and found all my comrades asleep on the
floor. There was a large fire, and the room was warm, and as I was
completely worn out, I lay down with them.
It might be perhaps two o'clock in the morning when I awoke, and as I
had now missed the rendezvous I had given the Marshal's Grenadiers, I
told my comrades that I was going to the town to get some bread, and
that now was a favourable time, as all the soldiers would be asleep;
and, besides, I had some Russian bank-notes. Several of them tried
to get up and go with me, but could not do so. Only one, Bailly, a
sergeant, succeeded in rising, and the others gave us their money,
amounting to about fifty francs.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, but when we were in the street it
felt so bitterly cold that it would not have taken much to send us back
into the house.
We met no one in the faubourg. At the gates of the town there was no
sentry. The Russians could have got in as easily as we did. When we
were opposite the first house on the left, I caught sight of a light
through the entrance to the cellar, and, stooping down, I saw it was a
bakehouse, and that bread was being made. The smell had made us aware
of it before. My comrade knocked, and they asked us what we wanted. We
answered: 'Open the door! We are Generals!' They opened at once, and
we went in. They took us into a large room, where a number of officers
were lying on the floor. They did not trouble to ask us if we were
really what we pretended to be. For some time past it had been hardly
possible to distinguish an officer from a private.
A very fat woman was standing against the cellar door, so we asked
her if she had any bread to sell. She said no, it was not baked yet;
we might go down to the cellar and see for ourselves. An officer
lying on some straw, wrapped in a great cloak, got up and went down
with us. Two bakers were there fast asleep, and looking all round, we
could see nothing; and we began to think that the woman had spoken the
truth, when on stooping down I saw under a kneading-trough a large
basket, which I drew out. In it we found seven large loaves of white
bread, weighing three or four pounds each, as good as those made in
Paris. What luck! What a glorious find for men who had had no bread
for fifty days! I began by taking possession of two, which I put under
my arm and my cape. My comrade did the same, and the officer took the
three others. This officer was Fouché, a Grenadier-Vélite, then an
Adjutant-Major in a regiment of the Young Guard, and a Major-General.
We came out of the cellar, and found the woman still standing at the
door. We said that we would return in the morning when the bread was
baked, and she was so anxious to get rid of us that she opened the
door, and we found ourselves in the street.[57]
As soon as ever we were free, we dropped our muskets into the snow, and
began to bite into the loaves voraciously; but, as my lips were cracked
and bleeding, I could not open my mouth as comfortably as I wished.
Just then two men came up to us, asking if we had nothing to sell or
exchange, and we saw that they were Jews. I told them that we had
Russian bank-notes for a hundred roubles each, and asked how much they
would give.
'Fifty,' said the first in German. 'Fifty-five,' said the other.
'Sixty,' went on the first.
He ended by offering us seventy-seven, and I made the condition that
they should give us some _café-au-lait_. They consented. The second
then came behind me and said, 'Eighty!' But the price was concluded,
and, as the man had promised us coffee, we did not wish to bargain over
again for twenty francs at most.
The Jew now conducted us to a banker, as he was only an agent. The
banker was also a Jew. He asked us at once for our notes, of which we
had to give nine; three of them belonged to me. He looked very closely
at them, and passed into another room, while we sat down on a bench to
wait, furtively handling our bread.
Our longing for the coffee promised us overcame our patience, and we
called out for the banker. No one appeared. The idea suddenly came
to us that we were going to be robbed. I said as much to my comrade,
who thought so too. To compel attention, therefore, he struck their
counter as hard as he could with the butt of his musket. As no one
came to this summons either, he knocked against a wooden partition
dividing the two rooms. The Jews came out, looking as if they were
plotting something together. After again asking for our money, we were
told to wait; but my comrade loaded his musket before their eyes, and
I took one of them by the throat, demanding our notes. When they were
convinced that we should make a scene to their disadvantage, they
hastily counted out our money, the most part of it in gold. We took
hold of the man who had led us to the place, and forced him to leave
with us; but as soon as we were in the street he swore that what had
occurred was no fault of his. We thought it better to believe him in
view of the coffee he had promised us, and he took us to his house.
After our meal, my comrade wished to go back to the faubourg; but I
felt so tired, and even ill, that I decided to stay where I was till
the next day, thinking myself safe with two Bavarian cavalrymen. So I
lay down on a sofa--perhaps it might be five o'clock in the morning.
I had only been resting about half an hour, when I was seized with the
most violent colic, after which I was terribly sick, and continued so
ill that I felt sure the Jew had poisoned me. I thought I must die,
as I was so weak as to be unable to get to the bottle of brandy in my
knapsack. I begged one of the Bavarians to give me some, and after that
I felt better; so I lay down again on the sofa and dozed off. I do not
know how long I slept, but when I awoke I discovered that my bread had
gone. Only a very small piece was left, which, fortunately, I had put
in my haversack, along with the bottle of brandy, and hung at my side.
My Rabbi's cap had also disappeared, so, too, had the Bavarians. That,
however, was not what distressed me the most, but my own position,
which was a dreadful one; besides my colic and sickness, my right
foot was frozen, and my wound had reopened. The first joint on the
middle finger of my right hand was on the point of dropping off, and
the terrible cold of the preceding day had poisoned my foot to such a
degree that I could not get my boot on. I was forced to wrap it up in
rags, after rubbing it over with the grease the Poles had given me, and
a piece of sheepskin over all, which I tied on with string. The same
process I repeated with my right hand.
I was about to go out, when the Jew asked me to stay, saying that
he had some rice to sell. I bought some, thinking it would stop my
complaint. I begged him to get me some sort of pot to cook it in, and
he fetched me a little copper pan; I tied this and my boot to the
knapsack, and after giving the man ten francs I went out.
As soon as I was in the street, I heard despairing cries, and I saw a
woman weeping over a dead body at the door of a house. She stopped me,
asking me to help her to get back what had been taken from her.
'I have been staying in this house since yesterday,' she said, 'with
these scoundrels of Jews. My husband was very ill. During the night
they took everything we had, and this morning I went out to get help.
As I saw I should get none anywhere, I came back to nurse my poor
husband; but when I arrived, imagine my horror at seeing his corpse at
the door! The villains had taken advantage of my absence to assassinate
him. Oh, monsieur,' she went on, 'do not leave me! Come with me!'
I said that was impossible, but the best thing she could do now was to
join those who were leaving the town. She made a gesture with her hand
to say she could not do it; and, as I had heard several musket-shots, I
had to leave the unfortunate woman and go in the direction of Kowno.
I got into a crowd of 10,000 men, women, and children all hurrying and
thrusting past each other to get out first.
As chance would have it, I met a Captain of the Young Guard belonging
to my own part of the country.[58] He had with him his Lieutenant, his
servant, and a wretched horse. The Captain had no company left; his
regiment had ceased to exist. I told him all my misfortunes, and he
gave me a little tea and a piece of sugar, but directly afterwards a
vast number of people coming after us separated us.
A drummer was beating the retreat at the head of the first crowd, very
likely a detachment of the garrison I had not seen. We marched on for
half an hour, and arrived at the end of the faubourg; then we could
breathe a little, and each one walk as he would. When I got outside the
town, I could not help thinking of the state of our army: five months
before it entered the Lithuanian capital, proud and rejoicing; now it
went out, fugitive and miserable.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 56: Many people said thirty or thirty-two degrees.--_Author's
Note._]
[Footnote 57: Since then I have seen General Fouché, and, on my
reminding him of this episode at Wilna, he told me that, after going
out, he was nearly assassinated by the people of the house, who tried
to make him pay for what we had taken.--_Author's Note._]
[Footnote 58: M. Débonnez, from Condé, killed at Waterloo.--_Author's
Note._]