The campaign of 1812 was to dwarf all Napoleon’s previous efforts in magnitude; a mere summing-up of statistics can at most give but an inadequate idea of the immense armament which he deemed necessary if a death-blow was to be struck at the heart of the great Russian Empire. The flames of the Peninsular war were still flickering, which necessitated the locking-up of a large number of troops under Soult, Marmont and Suchet which Napoleon could have used to better purpose had affairs been more settled in that quarter. France was in very truth “a nation in arms.” For home defence the able-bodied men from twenty-five to sixty years of age were divided into three classes, 900,000 of whom were to garrison the fortresses on the frontiers and watch the coasts, the remaining 300,000 to drill and make themselves efficient for immediate service whenever necessary. A rich man considered himself fortunate if he could secure a substitute for less than 8000 francs. The price of the Emperor’s friendship was also a costly one to those Princes whom he deigned to favour with his attentions. The Confederation of the Rhine was called upon to furnish 147,000 men, Italy some 80,000, Poland 60,000. France contributed 200,000 strong, other countries brought the total to the stupendous figure of 680,000 troops. Prussia found herself called upon to furnish 20,000 troops for the invasion of the Czar’s territory, and enormous quantities of oats, rice, wheat, and other provisions, in addition to hospital accommodation, horses and carriages. Austria was to supply 30,000 soldiers, but she did so on the distinct understanding that her Polish provinces should be kept inviolate. Prussia asked nothing and expected nothing. Napoleon’s new army was one of the most cosmopolitan that ever came into being. There were French, Austrians, Prussians, Bavarians, Poles, Italians, Illyrians, Dutch, Swiss, even a sprinkling of Spaniards and Portuguese. These men did not all follow willingly. Indeed in 1811 no fewer than 80,000 French conscripts deserted or failed to answer the summons. A string of manacled recruits was not an uncommon sight in France. Napoleon was now “the common oppressor,” the gold of glory had turned out to be tinsel. While France was deploring, Napoleon was organising his forces. He brooked no delay, would listen to no arguments, was deaf to the entreaties of those who failed to see his reason for making war with Russia. “The Emperor is mad, quite mad,” Admiral Decrès confided to a friend. “He will ruin us all, many as we are, and everything will end in a frightful catastrophe.” Mad with ambition he certainly was, mad in intellect he certainly was not.