and rode slowly along the heights of Semenowska. He found a
field of battle imperfectly gained, as the enemy's bullets, and even
their musket-balls, still disputed the possession of it with us.

In the midst of these warlike noises, and the still burning ardour of
Ney and Murat, he continued always in the same state, his gait
desponding, and his voice languid. The sight of the Russians, however,
and the noise of their continued firing, seemed again to inspire him;
he went to take a nearer view of their last position, and even wished to
drive them from it. But Murat, pointing to the scanty remains of our own
troops, declared that it would require the guard to finish; on which,
Bessieres continuing to insist, as he always did, on the importance of
this _corps d'elite_, objected "the distance the emperor was from his
reinforcements; that Europe was between him and France; that it was
indispensable to preserve, at least, that handful of soldiers, which was
all that remained to answer for his safety." And as it was then nearly
five o'clock, Berthier added, "that it was too late; that the enemy was
strengthening himself in his last position; and that it would require a
sacrifice of several more thousands, without any adequate results."
Napoleon then thought of nothing but to recommend the victors to be
prudent. Afterwards he returned, still at the same slow pace, to his
tent, that had been erected behind that battery which was carried two
days before, and in front of which he had remained ever since the
morning, an almost motionless spectator of all the vicissitudes of that
terrible day.

As he was thus returning, he called Mortier to him, and ordered him "to
make the young guard now advance, but on no account to pass the new
ravine which separated us from the enemy." He added, "that he gave him
in charge to guard the field of battle; that that was all he required of
him; that he was at liberty to do whatever he thought necessary for that
purpose, and nothing more." He recalled him shortly after to ask "if he
had properly understood him; recommended him to make no attack; but
merely to guard the field of battle." An hour afterwards he sent to him
to reiterate the order, "neither to advance nor retreat, whatever might
happen."

CHAP. XII.

After he had retired to his tent, great mental anguish was added to his
previous physical dejection. He had seen the field of battle; places had
spoken much more loudly than men