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still encumbered with a quantity of baggage, were assembled on the banks of the Beresina, which they had to cross. The passage of this river was one of the most disastrous points in the retreat. The bridge at Borissov had been destroyed; a Russian army under Tchitchakoff occupied the opposite bank of the river, and the passage appeared impracticable. So desperate seemed the state of affairs, that Murat advised Napoleon to leave the army to its fate, and make his own way to Paris. Napoleon, however, refused to listen to such a proposal, and occupied himself for two days in making such preparations as should enable him to cross the river, and at the same time deceive the enemy as to the exact spot at which he intended to cross it. 'What a frightful picture,' says Labaume, 'did such a multitude of men present! Our soldiers, pale, emaciated, dying with hunger and cold, having nothing to defend them from the inclemency of the season but tattered pelisses, and sheep-skins half-burnt, and muttering the most mournful lamentations, crowded the banks of this fatal river. Germans, Poles, Italians, Spaniards, Croats, Portuguese, and French were all mingled together, disputing and quarrelling with each other in their different languages; finally, the officers, and even the generals, wrapped in pelisses covered with dirt and filth, mingling with the soldiers, and abusing those who pressed upon them or braved their authority, formed a scene of strange confusion, of which no painter could trace the faintest resemblance.' The passage of the river commenced on the 27th, two wooden bridges having been by that time hastily constructed. A considerable part of the army crossed safely during the forenoon and afternoon of that day; among the rest Napoleon, with a division of about six thousand men, whom he marched immediately to Zembin, leaving the remainder to follow. Unfortunately, many of the stragglers preferred remaining on the left bank till the morning of the 28th, loath to quit the fires which they had kindled. The delay proved calamitous. The Russian armies in pursuit had come up before daylight; and, in order to afford time for the stragglers and baggage to cross, the soldiers who remained on the left side had to interpose themselves between them and the Russians. A terrible carnage ensued: one whole division of the French was obliged to surrender, and the rest were exposed to an incessant fire. Meanwhile the crowd was crushing along both bridges in the wildest confusion-men, women, children, horses, baggage-all struggling to be first. A heavy snow was falling; the weather was bitterly cold; large pieces of ice were floating down the river, and dashing against the frail woodwork; and the Russian bullets and cannon-balls were sweeping overhead. The scene became every moment more horrible. Here might be seen strong men, brutal in their selfishness, driving carriages through the crowd, crushing to death those who stood in their way; there, poor weak wretches, sitting composedly on the bank, gazing at the water;

and farther on, persons who had been thrown off the bridge into the
water, trying to climb up again, or grasping, in their agony, floating
fragments of ice. One of the bridges at length broke down. The
crowd still pushing on from behind, scores were thrown into the
water, and carried down by the stream. The rest rushed, pell-mell,
to the other bridge. Nothing now was to be heard but groans,
curses, and screams from victims trampled to death under the feet
of their companions. So it continued during the whole night of the
28th, the Russian artillery never slacking their murderous fire.
When morning dawned, many thousands still remained waiting to
cross. Before this time, however, the Russians had approached so
near that, to save those who had crossed, it became necessary to
burn the bridge. This was accordingly done at about half-past
eight o'clock; and all who had not passed were abandoned to the
Russians. The fatal passage of the Beresina cost the army an
immense number of its men; about twenty thousand armed men
and thirty thousand stragglers alone escaping to the other side.
The miseries of the fugitives, however, were not yet over. The
dreadful winter, the want of food, the goading attacks of the Cossacks,
who hovered on the skirt of the army, continued to thin the ranks of
the wretched caravan, and to strew its route with corpses. On the
5th of December the army reached Smorgoni, on the banks of the
Vilno. Here Napoleon left it in a private manner, taking with him
a small body-guard, and travelling as fast as possible, by means of
sledges, in the direction of Poland and France. At his departure,
the retreating army was left in the command of Murat, who was to
conduct it homeward. No sooner, however, was it known that
Napoleon had left the army to its fate, than there arose universal
disorganisation and anarchy. Generals, inferior officers, and common
soldiers were all seized with the instinct of self-preservation, and
refused to obey orders. What little remains there were of generous
or soldierly feeling in the army, were now entirely lost: hunger, cold,
and despair had reduced the heroes of the Grand Army to a horde
of savages.

From Smorgoni to Vilno, a distance of three days' march, was the next stage of the retreat arrived at Vilno, a large and wealthy city, it was hoped that all their sufferings would be at an end. But, as if the Russian winter had resolved to drag back and detain its victims, these three days' march were through an atmosphere of icy frost. We shall let Segur describe these last days and nights of the retreat. On the 6th of December,' he says, 'the very day after Napoleon's departure, the sky exhibited a dreadful appearance. You might see icy particles floating in the air; the birds fell from it quite stiff and frozen. We flitted along in this empire of death like unhappy spirits. The dull and monotonous sound of our steps, the cracking of the snow, and the feeble groans of the dying, were the only interruptions to the vast and doleful silence. ́ Such of our

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soldiers as had hitherto been the most persevering, here lost heart entirely. Whenever they stopped for a moment from exhaustion, the winter, laying his heavy and icy hand upon them, was ready to seize upon his prey. In vain did these poor unfortunates, feeling themselves benumbed, raise themselves, and, already deprived of the power of speech, and plunged in a stupor, proceed a few steps like automatons; their blood freezing in their veins like water in the current of rivulets, congealed their heart, and then flew back to their head: these dying men then staggered as if they had been intoxicated. From their eyes, which were reddened and inflamed by the continual aspect of the snow, by the want of sleep, and the smoke of the bivouac, there flowed real tears of blood; their bosom heaved with heavy sighs; they looked at heaven, at us, and at the earth, with an eye dismayed, fixed, and wild; it expressed their farewell, and perhaps their reproaches, to the barbarous nature which had tortured them. They were not long before they fell upon their knees, and then upon their hands; their heads still wavered for a few minutes alternately to the right and left, and from their open mouth some agonising sounds escaped; at last it fell, in its turn, upon the snow, which it reddened immediately with livid blood, and their sufferings were at an end. Their comrades passed by them without moving a step out of their way, for fear of prolonging their journey, or even turning their head; for their beards and their hair were stiffened with the ice, and every movement was a pain.

Such were the last days of the Grand Army. Its last nights were still more dreadful: those whom they surprised marching together, far from every habitation, halted on the borders of the woods; there they lighted their fires, before which they remained during the whole night, erect and motionless, like spectres. They seemed as if they could never have enough of the heat; they kept so close to it as to burn their clothes, as well as the frozen parts of their bodies, which the fire decomposed. The most dreadful pain then compelled them to stretch themselves, and the next day they attempted in vain to rise. In the meantime, such as the winter had almost wholly spared, and who still retained some portion of courage, prepared their melancholy meal. It consisted, ever since they had left Smolensk, of some slices of horse-flesh broiled, and some rye-meal diluted into a bouillie with snow-water, or kneaded into muffins, which they seasoned, for want of salt, with the powder of their cartridges. The sight of these fires was constantly attracting fresh spectres, who were driven back by the first comers. They then laid themselves down among the snow behind their more fortunate comrades, and there expired.'

On the 9th of December the fugitives reached Vilno. After crossing the Beresina, they had been joined by about twenty-five thousand recruits, so that at Smorgoni their numbers amounted

in all to about seventy-five thousand men. Of these, about one-half perished during the three days' march; only forty thousand reaching Vilno. Here no arrangements had been made for receiving or accommodating them; and a universal pillage ensued, many dying in the streets before food could be procured. From Vilno, the wreck of the army pushed on in broken bands to Kovno, the last town on the Russian frontier. The greater number of them arrived here on the 12th of December, and crossed the Niemen next day. Out of four hundred thousand men, in the prime of health and strength, who had crossed the Niemen on their advance into Russia, not more than twenty-five thousand now recrossed it on their return; and these were covered with rags, with hollow eyes and hunger-bitten faces. Plunging into the forests of Russian Poland, these poor wretches made their way to their several homes as well as they could, pursued for miles by the remorseless Cossacks. Many perished by the sword and by famine; and finally, only a mere handful reached France. Prince Eugène, after making every research to gather together the remains of his division, could muster only about eight hundred wounded, the miserable wreck of forty-eight thousand warriors.

Thus the Grand Army, which was to have subdued Russia, was annihilated, and its boastful chief a fugitive towards France. On the evening of the 10th of December, the sledges which bore Napoleon and a few attendants from the scene of danger reached Warsaw; and hence, wrapped in furs, after a brief stay, they pursued their way as secretly as possible through Germany and France to Paris. His sudden and unexpected appearance in Paris on the 19th of December caused general surprise; and it was only by concealing for a time the result of the campaign, and issuing false intelligence respecting the movements and state of the army, that he was able to prevent the discontent which was likely to arise. Ultimately, all became known; but while Europe was filled with horror for so much suffering, France was distracted and amused with the prospect of new campaigns and victories which would efface the recollection of its losses.

From the most careful calculations that can be made, it would appear that upwards of 650,000 men, French and Russians, invaders and defenders, perished in this most disastrous campaign. All estimates of the loss of life and also of property must, however, fall short of the truth. Many thousands of Russians perished obscurely, murdered in defence of their homes; thousands died of fatigue, hunger, and other privations. Innumerable villages, towns, and cities were sacked, burnt, and destroyed; and many years of dire suffering elapsed before the general distress was allayed, or the marks of disaster obliterated.

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T is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three;

An ancient

Mariner meeteth three gallants

'By thy long gray.beard and glittering bidden to a wedding

eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

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feast, and detaineth

one.

The wedding-guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.

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