On the twenty-ninth of May Napoleon leaves Dresden, where he has spent three weeks among princes, dukes, kings, and even an emperor. He shows favour, reprimands, presents pearls taken from other kings to the Empress of Austria, and tenderly embraces Marie Louise, who regards him as her husband though he has left another wife in Paris. Diplomatists still believe in peace; he himself writes to Alexander as Monsieur mon frère that he does not want war and will always love and honour him. Yet at every relay he gives fresh orders accelerating troops from west to east, traveling by six-horse coach through Posen, Thorn, Danzig, and Königsberg, met by thousands.
On the tenth of June he spends the night on a Polish count's estate in the Vilkavisski forest. Next day he goes to the Niemen, changes into Polish uniform, and drives to the bank to choose a crossing. Seeing Cossacks on the other side and the wide steppes in which lies holy Moscow, a Scythia such as Alexander the Great marched into, he unexpectedly, contrary to strategy and diplomacy, orders an advance. On the twelfth he stands on the steep left bank in overcoat and cocked hat while troops pour from the forest over three bridges, throwing up caps and shouting Vive l'Empereur, promising one another palaces in Moscow and ministries in Kashmir.
On the thirteenth he mounts a small Arab horse, rides a swaying pontoon, and gallops toward Kóvno, deafened by acclamations that distract him from military cares. At the Víliya he stops by Polish Uhlans, sits on a log, rests a telescope on a happy page, and studies a map. Aides gallop with orders to find a ford. The handsome old Uhlan colonel, flushed, begs like a boy to swim the river before the Emperor's eyes instead. The aide-de-camp says the Emperor would probably not be displeased. Hundreds plunge into the swift current; horses and men drown, though a ford lies a third of a mile away. They are proud to swim under the eyes of a man who is not even looking. When an aide ventures to point out their devotion, Napoleon rises, paces with Berthier, and glances disapprovingly at the drowning men who distract him. Some forty Uhlans drown; boats go out too late for most. The colonel clambers onto the farther bank in streaming clothes, shouts Vivat, and considers himself happy, looking at the spot where Napoleon no longer is. That evening Napoleon orders forged Russian paper money delivered quickly, a Saxon shot for a letter about French orders, and the Polish colonel enrolled in the Légion d'honneur. Those whom God would destroy he first drives mad.
Coming Up in Chapter 170
The Emperor has been in Vilna more than a month, reviewing troops. Nothing is ready. There is no general plan and no supreme commander of all the forces. The longer he stays, the less anyone, tired of waiting, prepares for the war.
