On the 24th of September, at a mansion on the road to Vladimir, Bagration died. It is probable that travelling on the bad Russian roads had brought on gangrene. On his death-bed he was visited by Wilson, who was returning from his visit to Alexander. The Tzar, very wisely, had judged it best to overlook the insubordination of the generals, and had sent by Wilson the strongest assurances of his determination to continue the resistance. He would, he said, sooner let his beard grow to the waist and eat potatoes in Siberia, than permit any negotiations so long as an armed Frenchman remained in Russia. The language may perhaps be thought a little high-flown, but it possesses dignity in that it was the expression of the firm resolution of the united Russian nation. To the dying soldier Wilson repeated the brave words of the Tzar. Bagration pressed his hand convulsively. “Dear general,” he said, “you have made me die happy, for now Russia will assuredly not be dishonoured. _Accipio solatium mortis._” So passes from the scene the fine Georgian soldier whose life had been spent in faithful service to his adopted country. Wilson eulogises his good qualities, the kindness and graciousness which his fiery temper perhaps at times concealed, his generosity and chivalrous courage. Wilson was his devoted admirer--the two had much in common. But in sober fact Bagration, whatever his faults, had ever proved himself a worthy descendant of the warrior-kings of the Bagratid line; and having adopted Russia, the steady protector of the Caucasian Christians, as his country, he had served her faithfully to the end. It is difficult not to feel a sense of decline in passing from Barclay, the simple, devoted servant of his country, and Bagration, the chivalrous descendant of kings, to the caution and cunning of the pleasure-loving old aristocrat Kutuzov, and the hardly disguised self-seeking of the soldier of fortune Bennigsen.