On the 13th of June Napoleon mounted a small thoroughbred Arab horse and galloped towards one of the bridges over the Niemen， deafened all the while by shouts of enthusiasm， which he obviously endured simply because they could not be prevented from expressing in such shouts their love for him. But those shouts， invariably accompanying him everywhere， wearied him and hindered his attending to the military problems which beset him from the time he joined the army. He rode over a swaying bridge of boats to the other side of the river， turned sharply to the left， and galloped in the direction of Kovno， preceded by horse guards， who were breathless with delight and enthusiasm， as they cleared the way before him. On reaching the broad river Niemen， he pulled up beside a regiment of Polish Uhlans on the bank.
“Vive l’Empereur！” the Poles shouted with the same enthusiasm， breaking their line and squeezing against each other to get a view of him. Napoleon looked up and down the river， got off his horse， and sat down on a log that lay on the bank. At a mute sign from him， they handed him the field-glass. He propped it on the back of a page who ran up delighted. He began looking at the other side， then， with absorbed attention， scrutinised the map that was unfolded on the logs. Without raising his head he said something， and two of his adjutants galloped off to the Polish Uhlans.
“What？ what did he say？” was heard in the ranks of the Polish Uhlans as an adjutant galloped up to them. They were commanded to look for a fording-place and to cross to the other side. The colonel of the Polish Uhlans， a handsome old man， flushing red and stammering from excitement， asked the adjutant whether he would be permitted to swim across the river with his men instead of seeking for a ford. In obvious dread of a refusal， like a boy asking permission to get on a horse， he asked to be allowed to swim across the river before the Emperor’s eyes. The adjutant replied that probably the Emperor would not be displeased at this excess of zeal.
No sooner had the adjutant said this than the old whiskered officer， with happy face and sparkling eyes， brandished his sabre in the air shouting “Vive l’Empereur！” and commanding his men to follow him， he set spurs to his horse and galloped down to the river. He gave a vicious thrust to his horse， that floundered under him， and plunged into the water， making for the most rapid part of the current. Hundreds of Uhlans galloped in after him. It was cold and dangerous in the middle in the rapid current. The Uhlans clung to one another， falling off their horses. Some of the horses were drowned， some， too， of the men； the others struggled to swim across， some in the saddle， others clinging to their horse’s manes. They tried to swim straight across， and although there was a ford half a verst away they were proud to be swimming and drowning in the river before the eyes of that man sitting on the log and not even looking at what they were doing. When the adjutant， on going back， chose a favourable moment and ventured to call the Emperor’s attention to the devotion of the Poles to his person， the little man in the grey overcoat got up， and summoning Berthier， he began walking up and down the bank with him， giving him instructions， and casting now and then a glance of displeasure at the drowning Uhlans who had interrupted his thoughts.
It was no new conviction for him that his presence in any quarter of the earth， from Africa to the steppes of Moscow， was enough to impress men and impel them to senseless acts of self-sacrifice. He sent for his horse and rode back to his bivouac.
Forty Uhlans were drowned in the river in spite of the boats sent to their assistance. The majority struggled back to the bank from which they had started. The colonel， with several of his men， swam across the river and with difficulty clambered up the other bank. But as soon as they clambered out in drenched and streaming clothes they shouted “Vive l’Empereur！” looking ecstatically at the place where Napoleon had stood， though he was no longer there， and at that moment thought themselves happy.
In the evening between giving two orders—one for hastening the arrival of the counterfeit rouble notes that had been prepared for circulation in Russia， and the other for shooting a Saxon who had been caught with a letter containing a report on the disposition of the French army—Napoleon gave a third order for presenting the colonel， who had quite unnecessarily flung himself in the river， the order of the Légion d’Honneur， of which he was himself the head. Quos vult perdere， dementat.
