avelling through a hostile
country; beyond the Rhine he again found himself the master and the
conqueror of Europe. A brief blast of the gale of prosperity once more
and for the last time swelled his sails.

Meanwhile, his generals, whom he left at Smorgoni, approved of his
departure, and, far from being discouraged, placed all their hopes in
it. The army had now only to flee; the road was open, and the Russian
frontier at a very short distance. They were getting within reach of a
re-enforcement of eighteen thousand men, all fresh troops, of a great
city, and immense magazines. Murat and Berthier, abandoned to
themselves, fancied they were quite competent to direct the flight. But
in the midst of such frightful disorder, it required a Napoleon for a
rallying-point, and he had just disappeared. In the mighty chasm which
he left, Murat was scarcely perceptible.

It was then but too clearly seen that a great man is not to be replaced;
either that the pride of his followers can no longer stoop to obey
another, or that, having always thought of, foreseen, and ordered
everything himself, he had formed good instruments, skilful lieutenants,
but no commanders.

The very first night a general refused to obey. The marshal who
commanded the rear guard was almost the only one who returned to the
royal headquarters. Three thousand men of the Old and the Young Guard
were still there. This was the whole of the Grand Army, and of that
gigantic body there remained nothing but the head. But at the news of
Napoleon's departure, these veterans, spoiled by the habit of being
commanded only by the conqueror of Europe, being no longer supported by
the honor of serving him, and scorning to act as guards to another, gave
way in their turn, and voluntarily fell into disorder.

Henceforward there was no longer fraternity in arms; there was an end to
all society, to all ties; the excess of misery had completely brutified
them. Hunger, devouring hunger, had reduced these unfortunate men to
that brutal instinct of self-preservation which constitutes the sole
understanding of ferocious animals, and which is ready to sacrifice
everything to itself; nature, wild and barbarous around them, seemed to
have communicated to them all its savageness. The strongest despoiled
the weakest; they rushed about the dying, and frequently waited not for
their last breath. When a horse fell, you might have fancied you saw a
famished pack of hounds: they surrounded