zen fast on the surface of the river, many of the ghastly
heads being those of women and children; the huts of the town were
packed with the dead. Twenty-four thousand bodies were burned in one
holocaust, and it is solemnly stated that in the spring thaws twelve
thousand more were brought to light. Ten years afterward there were
still islets in the shallows of the stream covered with forget-me-nots
which decked the moldering bones of those who had perished during that
awful night of November twenty-eighth, 1812.

Next day the Emperor wrote to Maret confessing the truth. "The army is
numerous, but shockingly disorganized," he declared. "A fortnight
would be necessary to bring it once more under the standards; and how
can we find a fortnight? Cold and privation have disorganized it. We
may reach Vilna--can we maintain ourselves there? If we only could,
even for the first eight days! But suppose we were attacked within
that time, it is doubtful if we should be able to remain. Food! food!
food!--without that there are no atrocities which this unruly throng
would not commit against the town. In this situation I may regard my
presence in Paris as essential for France, for the Empire--yes, even
for the army." He also composed on the same day a bulletin, since
famous, which was dated December third. It speciously declared that
until November sixth the Emperor had been everywhere successful;
thereafter the elements had done their fell work. The only complete
truth it contained was the closing sentence: "The health of his
Majesty was never better." As the sorry remnants of the grand army
moved toward Vilna, they grew scantier and scantier. Many were
delirious from hunger and cold, many were in the agonies of typhus
fever. On December third there were still nine thousand in the ranks;
on the fifth the marshals were assembled to hear Napoleon explain his
determination to leave at once for Paris, and immediately afterward he
took his departure.

It was not a very "grand army" which was left behind under Murat's
command, with orders to form behind the Niemen. On the eighth the
thermometer marked twenty-five degrees below zero, and a few unarmed
wretches, perhaps five hundred in all, trailed after their leader into
Vilna. Their ears and throats, their legs and feet, were swathed in
rags; their bodies were wrapped in the threadbare garments of their
dead comrades, or in such cast-off woman's apparel as they had been
able to secure by