war by protecting persons and property, and by administering to the
wants of the sick and wounded of every description....

On the 16th we quitted Laon for Berry au Bac, passing through Corbeny
and close to the heights of Craon, upon which a battle was fought which
might be considered as the coup de grace to the French. The Emperor
commanded in person; he talked nearly half an hour with the Postmaster,
whom he summoned before him; if the man spoke truth, his conversation
appears to have been rather childish. After asking many questions about
the roads and country, he vented a torrent of abuse against the
Russians, upon whom he assured the Postmaster it was his intention to
inflict summary punishment, and, indeed, according to the French
translation of the business, he actually did so, tho' I never could find
out that any other of the Imperial troops remained to enjoy the victory
on these said heights, saving and except the wounded and killed; one
spot was pointed out where in one grave were deposited the remains of
3,000....

In this village of Corbeny there had been sad devastation; but it was at
Berry au Bac that we were to see the superlative degree of misery. This
unfortunate little town had been captured 7 times--4 times by the
Russians, 3 times by the French; their bridge, a beautiful work of 3
arches, only completed in December, was blown up March 19. The houses
fared no better; whole streets were annihilated--chiefly for the sake of
burning the beams for fire-wood by the Russians--but the walls were in
great measure knocked over by the French, for what other purpose than
wanton cruelty I could not learn. Pillage and violence of every
description had been excessive. Some of the inhabitants died of pure
fright; a gentleman-like-looking man assured me his own father was of
the number. Even here the Cossacks were complimented for their
comparative good behaviour, while the French and the Emperor were justly
execrated--"Plait a Dieu" said a poor man who stood moaning over the
ruins of his cottage, "Plait a Dieu, qu'il soit mort, et qu'on
n'entendit plus de Napoleon";--the old woman, his wife, told me they
only feared the Cossacks when they were drunk. An old Cossack had taken
up his quarters with them--"Ah c'etait un bon Viellard; un bon Papa."

[Illustration: BERRY AU BAC.

_To face p. 164._]

One day a party of 20 or 30 drunken Cossacks broke into their yard, and
insisted on entering the house; the old woman s