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acquiesced, and was attended thither by the brave Dolgorucky alone, whilst Murat appeared with a concourse of generals and aides-de-camp. The purport of this meeting was to inform the Russian Prince that articles of peace had been signed between Austria and France; and that in consequence the Russian troops were to retire within their own frontiers. Every argument which falsehood could invent, and subtilty enforce, was brought forward to persuade Bagration of the truth of what was affirmed..

"Where are your credentials for this, General Murat?"

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"I shall pursue the

"The interview is finished," replied the Prince; " I shall orders of my Emperor."

"Then you will not retreat?" demanded Murat; " if you advance, your road must be through the breasts of sixty thousand Frenchmen."

He returned to his troops,

Bagration felt the mightiness of his course. and addressing them as his brothers in glory, named the host by which they were surrounded. “If,” cried he, " we would regain the main army, we must hew our passage through their hearts."

The soldiers, worthy of their intrepid commander, exclaimed in one voice, "Lead us on! You are with us, victory before us! we follow !"

Bagration seized a bayonet and rushed upon the French. He was

not alone, for his brave followers were a phalanx at his side: his heroic soul seemed to animate all their hearts, and give an herculean vigour to their arms as they mowed down the opposing ranks, and spread the bloody field with the writhing bodies of imperial republicans. It was an action which might rival that of Thermopyla: but it met a better fate. Bagration was victorious: he had preserved the main army by his resistance; he now saved his division with inconsiderable loss; and soon formed a junction with Kutauzoff. Two thousand of the enemy were killed in the field, and fifteen hundred taken prisoners, with several stand of colours.

To the sudden boldness of the attack may be attributed much of its effect. Murat, aware of his numbers and advantages, deemed any serious opposition on the part of Bagration as so desperate, that he regarded his brave menace as nothing more than a sort of theatrical gasconade to render his exit a little more respectable. Any attempt to cut through the French he thought was to meet inevitable defeat and death; and, therefore, when the blow really was struck, it fell like electricity; astonishment and confusion were the consequences on the side of the French: and General Murat had the mortification to see the plain strewn with his own dead; and the invincible Russian march off the field a conqueror, at the head of his victorious and unthinned ranks.

This incident shews how necessary that spirit is to a soldier, which knows when to prefer action before deliberation. There are moments when a General must decide by a kind of brave instinct, and throw himself at once into the arms of the giant Danger; grapple to him, and with a resistless heart fling him to the ground. If he wait till the tremendous power springs upon him; the weight may be too heavy, the shock too

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great, and he sink to the earth overwhelmed and perishing. There is a difference between rashness and this intrepid daring. The situation must warrant the hazard, and then it is glorious to seize the peril and put it to the issue of a fall. It is this spirit which makes Great Britain now the mistress of the waves.

I cannot dismiss my subject without relating a circumstance that happened during this last gallant exploit of the Russian Prince. A grenadier had been separated from his line, as it hurried forward to attack the French. At this crisis he was assailed by four of the enemy, one officer and three soldiers. On perceiving them approach with fury in their eyes and gestures, like his General he determined to sell his life dearly, and calling on "God and Suwarroff!" he met the first with the contents of his piece: seeing him dead at his feet, he received the second on the point of his bayonet; the brains of the third he beat out with the butt-end of his musket; and would have sent the soul of the fourth after those of his comrades, had not the Frenchman's heels stood his friend, and carried him far from danger. The undaunted soldier, seeing the coast clear, quietly regained his regiment, and fell into his place in the ranks with silence and regularity, as if nothing had happened.

Prince Bagration did not neglect so extraordinary a proof of martial resolution. And some time afterwards, having communicated it to the Emperor, that generous Monarch (who makes his favour, like the sun, shine on the worthy of all degrees) ordered him a purse of a hundred ducats, and promoted him to the rank of a subaltern officer.

Bagration and Kutauzoff are now on the frontiers. The brave Alexander is also gone thither; but whether to take the command or not,

we are ignorant. However, at any rate, the presence of so beloved a Sovereign must impart new animation to his troops. He was set out before my arrival; hence I have not yet had the happiness of paying my personal obeisances to so much true imperial dignity. In the course of a few days, I hope to be in presence with the fair of his illustrious family; and then you shall hear again from your friend.

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LETTER XIII.

St. Petersburgh, November 1805.

I HAVE been at court. It was at the anniversary of St. Nicholas; a day held sacred by the Russians; as they often wait for its return in order to fight a battle, storm a city, or commence any other momentous enterprise.

We arrived at the Winter Palace about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and followed the gentleman who introduced us, into a large saloon where numbers of officers and nobility were assembled, waiting the imperial family's arrival. Not many minutes clapsed before a bustle at the lower end of the apartment announced the entrance of the court. The expecting crowd then opened to right and left. Thirty gentlemen in rich embroidered suits passed along these were what they term les chamberlains actuel; each having a golden key and blue ribbon, the insignia of their rank, attached to his frock. The young Empress, dressed in white sattin and gold, then followed.

Her person is not tall, yet it is graceful and elegantly proportioned; and the air of it is tender and interesting. Her eyes are soft and blue; her complexion touchingly delicate. I wished that hideous thing called a hoop devoutly at the devil, as it hid the lower part of her figure, and cruelly lengthened the confinement of her waist: this barbarous rem

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