finally succumbed, not through the courage of our foes,
but borne down by treason, and the weight of numbers, we had no reason
to blush for our defeat, and the victors have little reason to exult in
it. It is not numbers that makes the glory of a people or an army--it
is virtue and bravery. This is what I think in all sincerity, and I
believe that right feeling, sensible men in every country will think
the same.

But now I must relate the horrors of retreat, and this is the hardest
part of my task. It is said that confidence gives strength, and this
is especially true of the French. While they advanced in full hope of
victory, they were united; the will of their chiefs was their only law;
they knew that they could succeed only by strict observance of
discipline. But when driven back, no one had confidence save in
himself, and commands were forgotten. Then these men--once so brave
and so proud, who marched so gayly to the fight--scattered to right and
left; sometimes fleeing alone, sometimes in groups. Then those who, a
little while before, trembled at their approach, grew bold; they came
on, first timidly, but, meeting no resistance, became insolent. Then
they would swoop down and carry off three or four laggards at a time,
as I have seen crows in winter swoop upon a fallen horse, which they
did not dare approach while he could yet remain on his feet.

I have seen miserable Cossacks--very beggars, with nothing but old rags
hanging around them; an old cap of tattered skin over their ears;
unshorn beards, covered with vermin; mounted on old worn-out horses,
without saddles, and with only a piece of rope by way of stirrups, an
old rusty pistol all their fire-arms, and a nail at the end of a pole
for a lance; I have seen those wretches, who resembled sallow and
decrepit Jews more than soldiers, stop ten, fifteen, twenty of our men,
and lead them off like sheep.

And the tall, lank peasants, who, a few months before, trembled if we
only looked at them--I have seen them arrogantly repulse old
soldiers--cuirassiers, artillerymen, dragoons who had fought through
the Spanish war, men who could have crushed them with a blow of their
fist; I have seen these peasants insist that they had no bread to sell,
while the odor of the oven arose on all sides of us; that they had no
wine, no beer, when we heard glasses clinking to right and left. And
no one dared punish them; no one dared take what he wanted from the
wretches wh