The day preceding the passage of the Beresina was one of terrible
solemnity. The Emperor appeared to have made his decision with the cool
resolution of a man who commits an act of desperation; nevertheless,
councils were held, and it was resolved that the army should strip itself
of all useless burdens which might harass its march. Never was there
more unanimity of opinion, never were deliberations more calm or grave.
It was the calm of men who decide to make one last effort, trusting in
the will of God and their own courage. The Emperor had the eagles
brought from each corps and burned, since he thought that fugitives had
no need of them. It was a sad sight to see these men advancing from the
ranks one by one, and casting in the flames what they valued more than
their lives, and I have never seen dejection more profound, or shame more
keenly felt; for this seemed much like a general degradation to the brave
soldiers of the battle of La Moskwa. The Emperor had made these eagles
talismans, and this showed only too plainly he had lost faith in them.
And although the soldiers realized that the situation of affairs must be
desperate to have come to this, it was at least some consolation to think
that the Russians would have only the ashes. What a scene was presented
by the burning of these eagles, above all to those who like myself had
been present at the magnificent ceremonies attending their distribution
to the army in the camp of Boulogne before the campaign of Austerlitz!

Horses were needed for the artillery, and at this critical moment the
artillery was the safeguard of the army. The Emperor consequently gave
orders that the horses should be impressed, for he estimated the loss of
a single cannon or caisson as irreparable. The artillery was confided to
the care of a corps composed entirely of officers, and numbering about
five hundred men. His Majesty was so much touched at seeing these brave
officers become soldiers again, put their hand to the cannon like simple