But there was one individual, who, not content with approving his design, encouraged it.  Prompted by a culpable ambition, he increased Napoleon’s confidence, by exaggerating the force of his division.  For after incurring so many fatigues, unaccompanied by danger, it was a great merit in those chiefs who preserved the greatest number of men around their eagles.  The emperor was thus gratified on his weak side, and the time for rewards was approaching.  In order to make himself more agreeable, the individual in question boldly took upon himself to vouch for the ardour of his soldiers, whose emaciated countenances but ill accorded with the flattery of their leader.  The emperor gave credit to this ardour, because it pleased him, and because he only saw the soldiers at reviews; occasions when his presence, the military pomp, the mutual excitation produced by great assemblages, imparted fervor to the mind; when, in short, all things, even to the secret orders of the chiefs, dictated an appearance of enthusiasm.

But in fact it was only with his guard that he thus occupied his attention.  In the army, the soldiers complained of his non-appearance.  “They no longer saw him,” they said, “except in days of battle, when they had to die for him, but never to supply them with the means of existence.  They were all there to serve him, but he seemed no longer there to serve them.”

In this manner did they suffer and complain, but without sufficiently considering that what they complained of was one of the inseparable evils of the campaign.  The dispersion of the various corps d’armee being indispensable for the sake of procuring subsistence in these deserts, that necessity kept Napoleon at a distance from his soldiers.  His guard could hardly find subsistence and shelter in his immediate neighbourhood; the rest were out of his sight.  It is true that many imprudent acts had recently been committed; several convoys of provisions belonging to other corps were on their passage daringly retained at the imperial head-quarters, for the use of the guard, by whose order is not known.  This violence, added to the jealousy which such bodies of men always inspire, created discontent in the army.

The emperor was ignorant of these complaints; but another cause of anxiety had occurred to torment him.  He knew that at Witepsk alone, there were 3000 of his soldiers attacked by the dysentery, which was extending its ravages over his whole army.  The rye which they were eating in soup was its principal cause.  Their stomachs, accustomed to bread, rejected this cold and indigestible food, and the emperor was urging his physicians to find a remedy for its effects.  One day he appeared less anxious.  “Davoust,” said he, “has found out what the medical men could not discover; he has just sent to inform me of it; all that is required is to roast the rye before preparing it;” and his eyes sparkled with hope as he questioned his physician, who declined giving any opinion until the experiment was tried.  The emperor instantly called two grenadiers of his guard; he seated them at table, close to him, and made them begin the trial of this nourishment so prepared.  It did not succeed with them, although he added to it some of his own wine, which he himself poured out for them.