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; the victory which he had so eagerly pursued, and so dearly bought, was incomplete.  Was this he who had always pushed his successes to the farthest possible limits, whom Fortune had just found cold and inactive, at a time when she was offering him her last favours?

The losses were certainly immense, and out of all proportion to the advantages gained.  Every one around him had to lament the loss of a friend, a relation, or a brother; for the fate of battles had fallen on the most distinguished.  Forty-three generals had been killed or wounded.  What a mourning for Paris! what a triumph for his enemies! what a dangerous subject for the reflections of Germany!  In his army, even in his very tent, his victory was silent, gloomy, isolated, even without flatterers!

The persons whom he had summoned, Dumas and Daru, listened to him, and said nothing; but their attitude, their downcast eyes, and their silence, spoke more eloquently than words.

It was now ten o’clock.  Murat, whom twelve hours’ fighting had not exhausted, again came to ask him for the cavalry of his guard.  “The enemy’s army,” said he, “is passing the Moskwa in haste and disorder; I wish to surprise and extinguish it.”  The emperor repelled this sally of immoderate ardour; afterwards he dictated the bulletin of the day.

He seemed pleased at announcing to Europe, that neither he nor his guard had been at all exposed.  By some this care was regarded as a refinement of self-love; but those who were better informed thought very differently.  They had never seen him display any vain or gratuitous passion, and their idea was, that at that distance, and at the head of an army of foreigners, who had no other bond of union but victory, he had judged it indispensable to preserve a select and devoted body.

His enemies, in fact, would have no longer any thing to hope from fields of battle; neither his death, as he had no need to expose his person in order to insure success, nor a victory, as his genius was sufficient at a distance, even without bringing forward his reserve.  As long, therefore, as this guard remained untouched, his real power and that which he derived from opinion would remain entire.  It seemed to be a sort of security to him, against his allies, as well as against his enemies:  on that account he took so much pains to inform Europe of the preservation of that formidable reserve; and yet it scarcely amounted to 20,000 men, of whom more than a third were new recruits.