Napoleon was then at Toloczina:  he made them describe to him the position of Borizof.  They assured him that at that point the Berezina was not merely a river but a lake of moving ice; that the bridge was three hundred fathoms in length; that it had been irreparably destroyed, and the passage by it rendered completely impracticable.

At that moment arrived a general of engineers, who had just returned from the Duke of Belluno’s corps.  Napoleon interrogated him; the general declared “that he saw no means of escape but through the middle of Wittgenstein’s army.”  The Emperor replied, “that he must find a direction in which he could turn his back to all the enemy’s generals, to Kutusoff, to Wittgenstein, to Tchitchakof;” and he pointed with his finger on the map to the course of the Berezina below Borizof; it was there he wished to cross the river.  But the general objected to him the presence of Tchitchakof on the right bank; the Emperor then pointed to another passage below the first, and then to a third, still nearer to the Dnieper.  Recollecting, however, that he was then approaching the country of the Cossacks, he stopped short, and exclaimed, “Oh yes!  Pultawa! that is like Charles XII.!”

In fact, every disaster which Napoleon could anticipate had occurred; the melancholy conformity, therefore, of his situation with that of the Swedish conqueror, threw his mind into such a state of agitation, that his health became still more seriously affected than it had been at Malo-Yaroslawetz.  Among the expressions he made use of, loud enough to be overheard, was this:  “See what happens when we heap faults on faults!”

Nevertheless, these first movements were the only ones that had escaped him, and the valet-de-chambre who assisted him, was the only person that witnessed his agitation.  Duroc, Daru, and Berthier have all said, that they knew nothing of it, that they saw him unshaken; this was very true, humanly speaking, as he retained sufficient command over himself to avoid betraying his anxiety, and as the strength of man most frequently consists in concealing his weakness.

A remarkable conversation, which was overheard the same night, will show better than any thing else, how critical was his position, and how well he bore it.  It was getting late; Napoleon had gone to bed.  Duroc and Daru, who remained in his chamber, fancying that he was asleep, were giving way, in whispers, to the most gloomy conjectures; he overheard them, however, and the word “prisoner of state,” coming to his ear, “How!” exclaimed he, “do you believe they would dare?” Daru, after his first surprise, immediately answered, “that if we were compelled to surrender, we must be prepared for every thing; that he had no reliance on an enemy’s generosity; that we knew too well that great state-policy considered itself identified with morality, and was regulated by no law.”  “But France,” said the Emperor, “what would France say?” “Oh, as to France,” continued Daru, “we