Notes of my Captivity in Russia

Front matter

NOTES

OF

MY CATIVITY IN RUSSIA,

Preface of the Editor

PREFACE OF THE EDITOR.

The original, of which this volume is a translation, was written, nearly fifty years ago. during the Author's residence in the United States of America, and left by him, before his death in 1841, to the Polish Historical Committee of Paris, by whose order it was first published last year.

Russia has been, for the last ten years, a favourite field of investigation. Many tourists, English, American, German, and French, have employed their pens in the description of that colossal Empire, and have enriched the literature of their respective countries with interesting and popular works. The intrinsic value, however, of these works varies according to the means their authors had of obtaining correct information regarding a country, in which truth, like many other things, is the exclusive monopoly of the Autocrat, and of whose language and customs foreign writers are comparatively ignorant.

Niemcewicz, from his knowledge of the language and manners of Russia, and from his opportunities of becoming acquainted with the different classes in that country, has a peculiar claim to our confidence. It does not fall within his province to give a complete description of that Empire, but, in relating the incidents of his own captivity, and the political events which ultimately led to the downfal of his unhappy country, he pourtrays with a masterly hand the Russian Court, statesmen and public functionaries, at the end of last century, giving, besides, many incidental sketches not less interesting.

The Editor believes no apology is necessary for introducing such an Author to the notice of the British public, and if there were, it could be found in the sacrifices he himself has made in the same holy cause, and the interest he cannot but feel in every document calculated to throw light on the barbarous injuries inflicted on his dismembered country.

Edinburgh, July 25th, 1844.

Biographical Notice of the Author

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE

OF

THE AUTHOR.

Julian Ursyn Niemcewicz, Secretary to the Senate, and subsequently a Senator of the Kingdom of Poland, and President of the Royal Society of the Friends of Sciences at Warsaw, was born in 1757, at Skoki, in the Palatinate of Brzesc, in Lithuania. After having finished his education in the corps of Cadets at Warsaw, he spent several years in visiting France, Germany, and Italy.

Having been elected Nuncio for the Palatinate of Livonia, he made a brilliant political debut at the grand constituent Diet, which lasted from the year 1788 to 1792. The Polish patriots had then to contend with the pernicious influence of the powers co-operating in the partition, the prejudices of the nobility, and the ignorance, or even indifference of the lower classes of the people, whom it was necessary to elevate, in order to strengthen the national forces. Courage equally great was requisite to oppose the intrigues and menaces of the factions in the Assembly, and energy and talent to electrify the public mind without. Niemcewicz was among the first that supported in this Diet measures for establishing a monarchical power,—hereditary and strong,—together with the emancipation of the peasants, and pleaded always with eloquence, the cause of a wise liberty. Having, with the aid of his colleagues, Castellan Thaddeus Mostowski, and Weissenhoff, the Nuncio of Livonia, established a political newspaper, the National and Foreign Gazette, he rendered by this organ of the opinion of his party, important services to the cause of the reforms which were at that time proposed. We see him now celebrating, in simple and touching verse, the exploits of the heroes of another age, in order to rekindle the patriotism of his contemporaries, then, by the amenity and refinement of his mind, intro into the drawing-rooms love for the national language and literature, or, finally, writing for the theatre plays specially destined to inspire virtues, which alone could dispel the dangers to which Poland was exposed. His play, The Return of the Nuncio Home, a work of truly patriotic design, had great literary success. On the anniversary of the establishment of the constitution of the 3d May 1791, the drama of Casimir the Great, which was also from the pen of our poet, was performed at the national theatre. But, alas! that was the last day of happiness that dawned upon the independence of Poland.

The confederation of Targowica, supported by the Russian armies, and favoured by the infamous pusillanimity of the King, Stanislaus-Augustus, shortly after succeeded in overthrowing the work of the grand Diet, and in causing the ruin of Poland. Niemcewicz was obliged at that time to leave the country, and this was his first political exile. But Poland was not to be yet lost, without making a generous effort to shake off the yoke of her oppressors. Kosciuszko soon raised the banner of insurrection in 1794, and Niemcewicz hastened immediately from Italy to join him, and to be, during all this war, his inseparable companion, in the camp as well as on the battle-field. It was from his pen that most of the proclamations, orders of the day, and bulletins of that memorable epoch emanated. When, after six months of a contest, often glorious, but far too unequal, Kosciuszko, severely wounded, fell into the hands of the Russians, Niemcewicz, wounded also, and taken prisoner in the same action, shared his captivity at St. Petersburg, after which, being released with Kosciuszko, he offered to accompany him to America, whither they betook themselves through Sweden and England.

Literature consoled Niemcewicz in his second exile, as it had alleviated the severities of his captivity at St. Petersburg, during which, amongst other labours, he wrote his fine translation of the Athalie of Racine and that of Pope's beautiful little poem, the Rape . of the Lock. After his arrival at Philadelphia, in 1797, Niemcewicz, being soon acquainted with everybody, was generally esteemed; and, on the motion of Jefferson, the American Philosophical Society elected him a member.

Three years after, he married Mrs. Livingston-Kean, a lady belonging to one of the most distinguished families of New-York. In 1802, having received the melancholy intelligence of his father's death, Niemcewicz returned for some time to Poland, in order to settle his family affairs. He published at that time his various works, and was made a Member of the Society of the Friends of Sciences, which had been recently established, and whose highly patriotic labours he henceforward shared with great activity. After his return to the United States, he did not leave that country until the year 1806, at the time when Napoleon was at war with Prussia, and when the French army entered Poland.

The King of Saxony, Sovereign of the Duchy of Warsaw, created by Napoleon, ap Niemcewicz Secretary to the Senate, Member of the Supreme Council of Public Education, and Inspector of Schools. After the unfortunate campaign of 1811, he followed the members of the Polish Government to Germany, where they took refuge, and underwent upon that occasion his third exile.

After the re-establishment of the kingdom of Poland, by the Congress of Vienna, the Emperor Alexander confirmed him in his offices of Secretary to the Senate, and Member of the Council of Public Education; but in 1821, when the Russo-Polish government adopted a retrograde system, he was deprived of the latter office. The dismissal of Niemcewicz was a necessary part of the measures since adopted by the government, for suppressing, as much as possible, the germ of nationality and liberty in Poland.

Niemcewicz had already been for a long time justly odious to Russia, as much for the numerous services which he had rendered to his country, as for his popularity, and the spirit of nearly all his works. His Lithuanian Letters, a kind of periodical published in 1812, for encouraging the Lithuanians, his countrymen, to insurrection against Russia, were one of those unpardonable offences in the eyes of the cabinet of St. Petersburg. On the other hand, the constant object of his other numerous works was to keep alive the patriotism of the Poles: sometimes by popular songs, sometimes by historical labours, sometimes by speeches made on the most solemn occasions, Niemcewicz, with his indefatigable literary activity, harassed the enemies of Poland, and contended, without intermission, with arbitrary power and antinational tendencies. Thus the popularity which our author justly merited, increased in proportion to the displeasure shown by the government represented by the GrandDuke Constantine and Nowosiltzow.

Called by the choice of the notables of Warsaw to the Presidency of the Society of Benevolence of that city, Niemcewicz found in these functions a vast field for honourable and useful labours. But a still more conspicuous proof of public respect awaited him. The Royal Society of the Friends of Sciences at Warsaw, after the death of the learned philanthropist Starzyc, elected him their President; and it was in this capacity that, in 1829, he conducted the imposing ceremony of the inauguration of the statue of Copernicus, from the chisel of Thorwaldsen, which was erected before the mansion of the Royal Society, in one of the principal places of the capital.

The day after the revolution of the 29th November 1830, he was called into the Council of Administration of the kingdom, which surrounded itself with justly popular names. In the stormy times which followed, Niemcewicz contributed more than once to preserve the national movement from excesses which might have weakened its force and tarnished its purity. When he was afterwards elected Senator Castellan, the Diet, by a special bill, dispensed with the proof of his eligibility.

The following year, in the month of July, Niemcewicz being acquainted with the English language and manners, was sent by the National Government to plead the cause of his country before the British Cabinet; this was just at the time when the French Cabinet made proposals in London regarding the common mediation of the two Courts in the affairs of Poland. But the obstacles which were thrown in his way by Prussia did not allow him to arrive in time at London; and soon the fatal intelligence of the capitulation of Warsaw gave a deadly blow to the hopes of the Poles. Niemcewicz, more than seventy years old at that time, did not, however, hesitate to undergo his fourth exile, and share the fate of his countrymen who left Poland. He continued, at first, to labour in order to influence public opinion in England and Ireland in favour of his country, and contributed to the establishment of the Literary Society of the Friends of Poland in London. He afterwards came to reside in Paris, where his noble efforts in the cause, which he had already served upwards of half a century, were to terminate only with his life. As a member of the Polish Literary Society at Paris, he delivered speeches, read his various works, and took part in the struggles of the press, on the affairs of Poland, in which that Society was engaged. Niemcewicz, always actively occupied with historical studies regarding his country, established at Paris an Historical Committee, which has already collected a great number of manuscripts, and to which he has bequeathed all his papers. He was a political speaker, a poet and a prose

writer; as a poet, he tried the art in all its branches, and wrote satires, fables, epigrams, idyls, &c.; as a prose writer, he was histo

author of memoirs, and of political works. Active to the last, in spite of his advanced age and his infirmities, he died at

Paris, the 21st May 1841, at the age of eighty-four years, respected by his countrymen, by foreigners, and even by his enemies. Niemcewicz expressed, before his death, a wish to be buried at Montmorency, where he had resided for several years, with his friend and companion in arms, General Kniaziewicz. The Poles are now engaged in erecting, to both friends, a common monument at Montmorency, where a funeral service will be annually celebrated. He desired also, that the following epitaph, which is already engraven

upon the stone that provisionally covers his remains, should be put upon his tomb:

JULIANUS URSINUS NIEMCEWICZ

EQUES POLONUS

PATRIAM

QUAMDIU VIXIT COLUIT

EXUL

OBIIT PARISIIS MDCCCXLI.

The Battle of Maciejowice

NOTES

ON

MY CAPTIVITY IN RUSSIA,

IN THE YEARS 1794, 1795, AND 1796.

CHAPTER I.

THE BATTLE OF MACIEIOWICE.

Situation of Poland after the raising of the siege of Warsaw by the Russians and Prussians.—Fersen crosses the Vistula.—Kosciuszko resolves to give him battle.—He requests Niemcewicz to accompany him.—The battle of Maciejowice.—Kosciuszko and Niemcewicz are wounded and taken prisoners.—The triumph of the Russians, their manner of living, ideas and plunder.

The twenty six months of my imprisonment in Russia, and the various evils I suffered, have left a deep impression on my mind. I am here to trace the recollection of them. A history of the Polish revolution of 1794, a revolution as just and sacred in its causes and principles, as it was fatal in its consequences to the country and the individuals who took part in it, would offer interesting narratives and useful lessons; but deprived, as I am, of every kind of necessary materials, I find that task above my power; I cannot, besides, trust to my memory, and still less to my abilities; I will, therefore, confine myself here to the relation of the principal incidents of my imprisonment, from the time which preceded the fatal day of the 10th October, 1794, until the epoch when the death of a dissolute Empress, the usurper of my country, broke my fetters.

The intrepidity with which our troops defended the fortifications of Warsaw, during the two months of the siege, the rainy season, and the insurrection in Great Poland, had compelled the combined armies of the Russians and Prussians to retreat from the walls of the capital. The King of Prussia marched towards the provinces where the insurrection had just broken out, and the Russians went along the bank of the Vistula, thus procuring us a delay not less desirable than necessary, of which we did not fail to take advantage, by detaching, immediately, from five to six thousand men, under General Dombrowski, in order to make a diversion in Royal Prussia, a province wrested from Poland at the time of her first partition.

This little corps, thanks to the valour of its soldiers, and the enthusiasm and abilities of its general, beat the enemy wherever they met, defeated the Prussian troops under the command of Sekuli, and took by assault the town of Bromberg.

Whilst these successes were spreading most enthusiastic joy in the camp and town, General Kosciuszko, during the night of the 4th of October, received an express from General Poninski, bearing the melancholy intelligence that General Fersen, at the head of the Russian troops which retreated from the camp before Warsaw, had crossed the Vistula, near a village called Macieiowice, twenty miles distant from the capital. Poninski, with three thousand men, had been detached to watch his movements, and defend this passage; but he did nothing, and afterwards alleged as an excuse, that the enemy, availing himself of a thick fog, had crossed the river without being perceived by him. The effecting of this passage, either from Poninski's negligence, or our unlucky stars, threatened us with the most fatal consequences. If Fersen should join the large army of Alexander Suvorov, they would make a joint attack, and being thrice our numbers, must infallibly crush us. The Lithuanian army, receiving vague and contradictory orders, was more than a hundred miles from Warsaw, and wandering about without any definite purpose. General Sierakowski’s division, after having fought with courage and glory at Krupczyce against all the forces of Suwarow, was, a few days after, surprized in a disadvantageous position, and lost all its artillery. This small corps, weakened and discouraged, was the nearest available force for opposing Fersen. It approached within six miles of Poninski’s detachment, and at the head of those two small corps, Kosciuszko resolved to give battle to Fersen’s army, about twenty thousand strong, with one hundred and fifty field-pieces.

The head-quarters of the army of Warsaw, which, even during the greatest autumnal rains, and after the retreat of the enemy, had been in the camp, were just removed to Mokotow, a beautiful villa belonging to the Julia Lubomirska. On Sunday night, 5th October, General Kosciuszko gave orders that two foot regiments and some field-pieces should cross the Vistula by the bridge of Praga, and march towards General Sierakowski’s division, telling me at the same time, under the seal of secrecy, that at the dawn of the following day, we should go, on horseback, to join these troops. We spent the evening in Warsaw, at President Zakrzewski's house. Marshal Potocki, Mostowski, Kochanowski, and many of my other best friends were there, none of whom knew anything of our plan for the following day, except the Vice-Chancellor Kollontay, who was entrusted with the secret. The party was gay and animated. I was sitting at Marshal Potocki's side. I had, on my finger, a most beautiful Etruscan beetle, revolving in its bezel, upon one of the sides of which was engraved a soldier leaning upon his buckler; Potocki admired it much. “Keep it,” said I, “until we meet again.” He did not understand the true sense of my words; it was my wish that, in case any misfortune might befal me, this esteemed friend should have at least a token of remembrance from me. We parted at one o'clock in the morning; none of us foresaw the long separation, and the misfortunes that awaited us; as for myself, I little thought that this was the last time I should visit the capital of Poland.

The following day, Monday, 6th October, at six o'clock in the morning, General Kosciuszko, after having caused a rumour to be circulated in the camp that he was going to town, entrusted General Zaionczek with the temporary command of the army, and then mounted his horse. We set out by the bridge of Praga; at the distance of three miles from it, we left our horses, and took others from the peasants. As we rode always at a gallop, we were obliged to change them very often; the marches and counter-marches of our army, and still more, the ravages of the Cossacks, had quite desolated our country; the horses were, therefore, the most wretched possible,–the saddles without girths, and often a single cord put into the mouth of the poor animal, served both for bit and bridle. We did not, however, break our necks, Providence having spared us for something better. At four o’clock, P. M., we met General Sierakowski’s first scout, and at five we alighted at his head-quarters.

General Poninski having left his corps at the distance of six miles, arrived also; there was held a kind of little council of war, and I was much surprised that Poninski did not receive orders to join General Sierakowski’s division immediately. I spent the night in Brigadier Kopec’s covered chariot.

The following day, Tuesday, 7th October, the small army started, without waiting, either for reinforcements from Warsaw or Poninski's corps. The weather was beautiful; our soldiers were laughing and singing. We halted near Zelechow, a small town that had been laid waste by the Russians. Towards the evening we arrived at Korytnica, a village still more desolate. The house of the lord of the manor was appointed for our head-quarters. As the Cossacks had been there a few days before, everything was in a state of confusion; chairs hacked with swords, desks, chests of drawers smashed; books and papers, cut in pieces, strewed the floor. On the other side of the village there were two ranges of hills separated from each other by a deep ravine, covered with brushwood. Our little army took up its position on one of these ranges, having the ravine on its front, and its flanks covered by a wood. It rained heavily on the following morning, and towards twelve o'clock one of our patroles brought us ten hussars of Wol regiment, and a Major of Engineers, who was sent to reconnoitre the country and draw a plan of it. This wretch, more dead than alive, was Podczaski, a Pole from the palatinate of Braclaw. He told us that, having been compelled by misery, he had, long ago, entered the Russian service, and could never obtain his discharge. We would have been justified in ordering him to be hanged, but we satisfied ourselves with requiring from him information regarding the state and situation of the enemy's camp, which he gave with the utmost sincerity and good faith. He drew us the plan of the Russian camp, and specified the number of men and cannon. We saw distinctly that the enemy were four times stronger than we in men and artillery; we saw it, but did not wish to believe it. In the evening, Captain Molski arrived from General Dombrowski's army, with tidings of the defeat of the Prussians at Bromberg. We immediately published this news in our little army, and exhorted them to equal, by their exploits, the glory of their companions in arms. In the evening the rain somewhat subsided, and the soldiers loaded anew their muskets. General Kaminski, my friend and school-fellow, arrived at head quarters; and while we were walking in the court, and speaking of the morrow, blending in our conversation the recollection of the happy days of our youth, we saw a flock of ravens flying on our right. “Do you remember your Livy?” said he to me, “these ravens are on our right, it is a bad omen.”—“It would be so for the Romans,” said I, “but not for us—you will see, that, although it seems impossible, we shall beat the Muscovites.”—“I think so too,” replied he.

The day of the 9th of October was as beautiful, as those which preceded it were rainy. Very early in the morning, Colonel Krzycki brought two regiments detached from the camp of Warsaw. The soldiers, dying from hunger and fatigue, were in low spirits, but the animating language of the officers, and some glasses of brandy, soon re gaiety among them. We had heard nothing from Poninski, and at about nine o'clock in the morning, the whole of our little army, amounting nearly to five thousand eight hundred men, with twenty-one field-pieces, started. At four o'clock in the afternoon, we left the large wood, and approached the village of Macieiowice,—General Kosciuszko and myself, with some Light-dragoons, proceeded before the advanced-guard, and were not long in seeing the army of the enemy, which lay encamped along the bank of the Vistula, as far as the eye could reach. Although the great distance did not allow us to perceive objects distinctly, the general view was most imposing; the rays of the setting sun reflected from the arms of the dense columns of infantry; the neighing of horses, and the buzz of this armed multitude, filling the air with a dull and confused noise, had in them something really terrible. We threw our skirmishers into the wood, which extended beyond our flanks, and our advanced posts engaged with the Cossacks in the plain which stretches from the dike, before the house of Macieiowice, to the Vistula. After some of the Cossacks had fallen, a large body of them, formed according to custom in semi-circle, attacked us suddenly, and we were obliged to fall back.

I do not know, indeed, how it happened that we were not taken, being twice surrounded along with the General. At last, Kaminski's Light-dragoons drove them back; at about five o'clock, everything was calm, and the whole of our little army arrived on the spot. On coming out of the wood the village of Macieiowice, situated on a piece of level ground, was in view; at a little distance is an elevated table-land partially cultivated, and covered here and there with brambles; a large brick house, before which is a slope leading to the dike, bordered with willows, commands the view of the Vistula; to the right, a river; the remaining part of the table-land is surrounded with marshes. This position appeared to us to be excellent: our whole army was drawn up on the tableland, a battery of artillery under the protection of the regiment of Fusileers and that of Dzialynski, under the command of General Sierakowski, was placed before the house to enfilade the avenue of the dike. The two segments of the circle behind the house were occupied by our foot; the line from the village side under Colonel Krzycki's command, the horse, consisting of Kopec's brigade, Kaminski's Light-dragoons, two squadrons of Crown Horse Guards, and two squadrons of the Militia of the Palatinate of Brzesc, for want of room, were posted along the bank of the small river, and in the centre. General Kosciuszko ordered some epaulements to be thrown up, but night coming on, prevented them from being raised, so that, at the break of day, they were scarcely commenced. All the army bivouacked. The advanced posts were doubled; the soldiers of the light infantry were intermixed with the horsemen; and at last, at night, we returned to our headquarters, established in the above mentioned brick-house.

Let people say what they may about presentiments! On the eve of the most unlucky day in my life, a day in which I lost my liberty, and witnessed with the greatest pain the events which precipitated the total ruin of my native country, I was calm and even merry. The house where we were had been plundered and laid waste, as were all others which the Russians had passed. It belonged formerly to the family of Macieiowski, and afterwards to that of Zamoyski. In the drawing-room, on the first floor, were to be seen, family portraits, Primates, Grand Chancellors, Grand Generals, Bishops, etc. All those gentlemen had their eyes put out, and their faces cut with swords, and mangled by the Cossacks. We found no books, as it was the part of general-officers to carry these along with them wherever they could find them, but a box with pamphlets, and a collection of Polish newspapers from the beginning of the century, was broken, and its contents were strewed on the floor of a chapel not less ruined than the other apartments of the house. I picked up a bundle of these newspapers, which contained an account of the death of Augustus II., and the journal of the diet of convocation; and the bombastic speeches stuffed with bad Latin, amused me excessively. I read a part of them at supper whilst we were talking of the strength of our position, the difficulty and almost impossibility that the enemy would have to attack us in it. At two o'clock in the morning, we received an express from General Poninski. General Kosciuszko had caused an order to be sent to him to hasten his march and to join us as soon as possible; but, alas! it was already too late.

On Friday 10th October, at break of day, we were informed that all the enemy's army was advancing towards us in battle array.

Our little army stood in readiness to receive them. As the enemy had cannon of larger calibre than ours, they opened the fire upon us at a great distance, and their large balls, passing through the brambles, and smashing the boughs of trees with dreadful noise, were falling among us. We had only three or four twelve-pounders, and as soon as the enemy were within the proper distance, we fired upon them, and with such effect, that we could see their columns wavering and panic spreading through their ranks. Our position was on a dry and elevated piece of ground, while the Russians were advancing over marshes, in which cannon and men were sinking at every step. During nearly three hours, we maintained so decided an advantage over them, that General Sierakowski, who was posted with his troops exactly opposite to the enemy, and before the brick-house, came to tell us that the Russians seemed to be on the point of giving up the attack and retreating. But it proved soon to be quite the contrary: the enemy, four times stronger than we, having a large park of artillery, and reckoning, besides, the life of their soldiers as nothing, and not discouraged by the disadvantages of the terrain, continued to advance. Their fire became more and more rapid and terrible; a shower of balls of every size, grape-shot, and grenades, spreading, as they burst, death on all sides, overwhelmed us. One of those grenades burst just between General Kosciuszko, his aide-de-camp Fischer, and myself, and its splinters passing over our heads, struck, at fifty paces, a gunner, who fell dead on the spot. General Kosciuszko apprehending at the beginning of the battle, that the enemy would lodge themselves in the village which covered our left wing, gave orders to set it on fire. As soon as the red balls were thrown, flames and curling clouds of smoke rose to the skies; these, and the poor peasants of the village, with their wives and children in tears, rush to the wood in the attempt to save themselves, recall to my mind the most cruel scene I have ever witnessed.

About twelve o'clock the fire became still more terrible: death was flying and striking everywhere; nearly all our artillery horses were killed or maimed; not one of us, however, left his place. The enemy were already within musket shot, when the infantry began a terrible fire on both sides; the ground was covered with dead and wounded, and the air resounded with their groanings. The shower of bullets, with their shrill whistling, was so incessant, that I do not know how any of us escaped. In the meantime, the ammunition was exhausted, and our artillery became entirely silent. The soldiers at last lost patience, tired with being exposed to a continued fire during five hours. The line posted from the village to the table-land, under Colonel Krzycki's command, advanced to attack the enemy, but a volley of grape shot compelled them to retreat, and routed also a battalion of peasants armed with scythes. I informed General Kosciuszko of it, and told him, at the same time, that the enemy's horse was advancing at a gallop through the brush-wood, to fall upon our flank. A squadron of the militia of my province (Brzesc) placed on the table-land, began to waver and to show symptoms of wishing to leave the battle-field; I ran to animate them, and having put myself at their head, was going to check the progress of the Russian cavalry, when, being already near them, I was struck by a bullet in the right arm, above the elbow. The blood was streaming; I remember, however, that the pain was not the first sensation I experienced at this moment, on the contrary, it was the pride that I felt of having shed my blood for my fatherland. But this romantic pleasure of patriotism, which flattered my self-love, was soon dissipated by the sight of the general defeat of our army. The horsemen whom I led to the charge were scattered; confusion prevailed everywhere; all the Russian army was advancing and surrounding us. Our infantry, although weakened, and presenting many gaps in their ranks, stood firm, and received the attack of the phalanx of Russian bayonets; the butchery began, and after an obstinate contest, in which the defenders of my country covered themselves with immortal honour, the enemy became masters of the field, marching over the bodies of our soldiers, who covered in death the very ground they had occupied in battle.