"What!" cried Alexander, "and not after you--or me? The coxcomb! I
will make war upon him."

This anecdote is here given to the world for the first time. It is
generally supposed that the rupture of friendly relations between
Alexander and Bonaparte grew out of other causes, but the truth is as
indicated in this story. Had Fouche been at hand, Bonaparte would
never have made the mistake, but it was made, and war was declared.

After a succession of hard-fought battles the invading army of the
Emperor entered Moscow, but Napoleon's spirit was broken.

"These Russian names are giving us paresis!" he cried. "How I ever
got here I don't know, and I find myself unprovided with a return
ticket. The names of the Russian generals, to say nothing of those
of their rivers and cities, make my head ache, and have ruined my
teeth. I fear, Davoust, that I have had my day. It was easy to call
on the Pollylukes to surrender in Africa; it never unduly taxed my
powers of enunciation to speak the honeyed names of Italy; the
Austrian tongue never bothered me; but when I try to inspire my
soldiers with remarks like, 'On to Smolensko!' or 'Down with
Rostopchin!' and 'Shall we be discouraged because Tchigagoff, and
Kutusoff, and Carrymeoffski, of the Upperjnavyk Cgold Sdream Gards,
oppose us?' I want to lie down and die. What is the sense of these
barbed-wire names, anyhow? Why, when I was told that Barclay de
Tolly had abandoned Vitepsk, and was marching on Smolensko with a
fair chance of uniting with Tormagoff and Wittgenstein, I was so
mixed that I couldn't tell whether Vitepsk was a brigadier-general or
a Russian summer-resort. Nevertheless, we have arrived, and I think