One glimpse of the Cossacks posted on the far bank and the steppe disappearing into the distance, where, far away, lay the holy city of Moscow, capital of an empire just like the Scythian empire invaded by Alexander the Great, and Napoleon ordered an immediate advance, confounding the diplomats and breaking every last rule of strategy, and next day his troops began crossing the Niemen.
Early on the morning of the 12th of June he came out of his tent, which had been pitched that day on the steep left bank of the Niemen, and watched his troops through a telescope as they poured out of the forest and swarmed over three bridges thrown across the river. The troops knew of the Emperor’s presence, and were on the look-out for him. When they caught sight of a figure in a greatcoat and hat standing apart from his suite in front of his tent on the opposite hillside, they threw their caps in the air and shouted, ‘Long live the Emperor!’ And one after another in an unbroken stream they flowed out of the immense forest that had hitherto concealed them and split up at the three bridges to march across. ‘Now we’ll get somewhere. He’ll warm things up when he gets involved. My God he will! . . . There he is! . . . Long live the Emperor! So this is the Steppe-land of Asia! Nasty bit of country, though.
On the 13th of June Napoleon mounted a small thoroughbred Arab horse and galloped down towards one of the bridges over the Niemen to deafening roars of acclamation, which he obviously had to put up with, because there was no way of silencing men determined to express their love for him by roaring their heads off. But all this shouting, which accompanied him wherever he went, was hard to bear, and it distracted him from the military considerations that had dogged him ever since he had joined up with the army. He rode across a bobbing pontoon bridge to the other side of the river, turned sharp left and galloped off towards Kovno, preceded by ecstatic horse guards breathless with delight as they galloped on ahead to clear the way. When he got to the broad river Wilja, he pulled up alongside a regiment of Polish uhlans deployed on the bank.
‘Long live the Emperor!’ roared the Poles with the same kind of wild enthusiasm, breaking ranks and jostling to get a glimpse of him. Napoleon took a long look up and down the river, got off his horse and sat down on a log lying on the bank. At a silent signal from him he was handed a telescope, which he rested on the back of a page only too pleased to run over and help. After studying the far bank he looked down and concentrated all his attention on a map spread out between the logs. Without looking up again he said something, and two of his adjutants galloped off towards the Polish uhlans.
‘What was that? What did he say?’ came the cry from the Polish ranks as an adjutant galloped over to them. The order was to find a fording-place and cross the river. The elderly Polish colonel, a fine figure of a man, blushed and stammered from sheer excitement as he asked permission to swim straight across the river without bothering to find a ford. In fear and trembling at the very thought of a refusal, like a little boy asking permission to get on a horse, he asked them to let him swim across the river before the Emperor’s eyes. The adjutant told him the Emperor would probably not be displeased at such an excessive display of zeal.
