The Soldier's Reward.--Review of the Russian Army.--American
Cannibals.--Palace of Potemkin.--Palace of the Grand-duke
Michael.--Equipments for Travelling.--Rough
Riding.--Poland.--Vitepsk.--Napoleon in Poland.--The Disastrous
Retreat.--Passage of the Berezina.
EARLY the next morning I went out about twelve versts from the city to
attend a grand military review by the emperor in person. The government
of Russia is a military despotism, and her immense army, nominally
amounting to a million, even on the peace establishment numbers actually
six hundred thousand, of which sixty thousand follow the person of the
emperor, and were at that time under arms at St. Petersburgh. When I
rode on the parade-ground, the spectacle of this great army, combining
the elite of barbaric chivalry with soldiers trained in the best
schools of European discipline, drawn up in battle's stern array, and
glittering with steel, was brilliant and almost sublime; in numbers and
military bearing, in costliness of armour and equipment, far surpassing
any martial parade that I had seen, not excepting a grand review of
French troops at Paris, or even a _fourth of July parade at home_. I
once had the honour to be a paymaster in the valiant one hundred and
ninety-seventh regiment of New-York State Militia; and I can say what,
perhaps, no other man who ever served in our _army_ can say, that I
served out my whole term without being once promoted. Men came in below
and went out above me; ensigns became colonels and lieutenants generals,
but I remained the same; it was hard work to escape promotion, but I was
resolute. Associated with me was a friend as quartermaster, with as
little of the spirit of a soldier in him as myself, for which we were
rather looked down upon by the warriors of our day; and when, at the end
of our term, in company with several other officers, we resigned, the
next regimental orders were filled with military panegyrics, such as,
"the colonel has received, with the greatest regret, the resignation of
Lieutenant A.;" "the country has reason to deplore the loss of the
services of Captain B.;" and wound up with, "Quartermaster G. and
Paymaster S. have tendered their resignations, _both of which are hereby
accepted_." But when strains of martial music burst from a hundred
bands, and companies, and regiments, and brigades wheeled and manoeuvred
before me, and the emperor rode by, escorted by general and field
officers, and the most magnificent staff in Europe, and the earth shook
under the charge of cavalry, I felt a strong martial spirit roused
within me, perhaps I was excited by the reflection that these soldiers
had been in battles, and that the stars and medals glittering on their
breasts were not mere holyday ornaments, but the tokens of desperate
service on bloody battle-fields.
In a body, the Russian soldiers present an exceedingly fine appearance.
When the serf is enrolled, his hair and beard are cut off, except on the
upper lip, his uniform is simple and graceful, a belt is worn tightly
round the waist, and the breast of the coat is thickly padded,
increasing the manliness of the figure, though sometimes at the expense
of health. In evolutions they move like a great machine, as if all the
arms and legs were governed by a single impulse.
The army under review was composed of representatives from all the
nations under the sway of Russia; Cossacks of the Don, and the Wolga,
and the Black Sea, in jackets and wide pantaloons of blue cloth, riding
on small horses, with high-peaked saddles, and carrying spears eight or
ten feet in length. One regiment had the privilege of wearing a ragged
flag and caps full of holes, as proofs of their gallant service, being
the only regiment that fought at Pultowa. And there were Calmucs in
their extraordinary war-dress; a helmet with a gilded crest, or a chain
cap with a network of iron rings falling over the head and shoulders,
and hanging as low as the eyebrows in front; a shirt of mail, composed
of steel rings matted together and yielding to the body, the arms
protected by plates, and the back of the hand by steel network fastened
to the plates on each side; their offensive weapons were bows and
arrows, silver-mounted pistols peeping out of their holsters,
cartridge-boxes on each side of the breast, and a dagger, sword, and
gun.
The Kirguish, a noble-looking race, come from the steppes of Siberia.
Their uniform is magnificent, consisting of a blue frockcoat and
pantaloons covered with silver lace, a Grecian helmet, and a great
variety of splendid arms, the yataghan alone costing a thousand rubles.
They are all noble, and have no regular duty, except to attend the
imperial family on extraordinary occasions. At home they are always at
war among themselves. They are Mohammedans; and one of them said to an
American friend who had a long conversation with him, that he had four
wives at home; that some had more, but it was not considered becoming to
exceed that number. A bearded Russian came up and said that these
Kirguish eat dogs and cats against which the Kirguish protested. The
same Russian afterward observed that the Americans were worse than the
Kirguish, for that a patriarch of the church had written, and therefore
it must be true, that the number of human beings eaten by Americans
could not be counted; adding, with emphasis, "Sir, you were created in
the likeness of your Maker, and you should endeavour to keep yourself
so." He continued that the Russians were the first Christians, and he
felt much disposed to send missionaries among the Americans to meliorate
their condition.
The Imperial Guards are the finest-looking set of men I ever saw. The
standard is six feet, and none are admitted below that height. Their
uniform is a white cloth coat, with buckskin breeches, boots reaching
up to the hips, and swords that Wallace himself would not have been
ashamed to wield. But perhaps the most striking in that brilliant army
was the emperor himself; seeming its natural head, towering even above
his gigantic guards, and looking, as Mr. Wilkins once said of him, like
one who, among savages, would have been chosen for a chief. In the midst
of this martial spectacle, the thought came over me of militia musters
at home; and though smiling at the insignificance of our military array
as I rode back in my drosky, I could but think of the happiness of our
isolated position, which spares us the necessity of keeping a large
portion of our countrymen constantly in arms to preserve the rest in the
enjoyment of life and fortune.
The next morning my Polish friend, hopeless of success either in his
lawsuit or his lovesuit, fixed a day for our departure; and, with the
suggestion that I am about leaving St. Petersburgh, I turn once more,
and for the last time, to the imperial palaces. Not far from the
Hermitage is the marble palace; a colossal pile, built by the Empress
Catharine for her favourite, Count Orloff, presenting one of its fronts
to the Neva. All the decorations are of marble and gilded bronze, and
the capitals and bases of the columns and pilasters, and the
window-frames and balustrades of the balconies, of cast bronze richly
gilded. The effect is heightened by the unusually large dimensions of
the squares of fine plate glass. A traveller in seventeen hundred and
fifty-nine says "that the prodigies of enchantment which we read of in
the tales of the genii are here called forth into reality; and the
temples reared by the luxuriant fancy of our poets may be considered as
a picture of the marble palace, which Jupiter, when the burden of cares
drives him from heaven, might make his delightful abode." At present,
however, there are but few remains of this Olympian magnificence, and I
think Jupiter at the same expense would prefer the Winter Palace or the
Hermitage.
The Taurida Palace, erected by Catharine II. for her lover, Potemkin, in
general effect realizes the exaggerated accounts of travellers. The
entrance is into a spacious hall, which leads to a circular vestibule of
extraordinary magnitude, decorated with busts and statues in marble,
with a dome supported by white columns. From thence you pass between the
columns into an immense hall or ballroom, two hundred and eighty feet
long and eighty wide, with double colonnades of lofty Ionic pillars
decorated with gold and silver festoons, thirty-five feet high and ten
feet in circumference. From the colonnade, running the whole length of
the ballroom, you enter the Winter Garden, which concealed flues and
stoves keep always at the temperature of summer; and here, upon great
occasions, under the light of magnificent lustres and the reflection of
numerous mirrors, during the fierceness of the Russian winter, when the
whole earth is covered with snow, and "water tossed in the air drops
down in ice," the imperial visiter may stroll through gravel-walks
bordered with the choicest plants and flowers, blooming hedges and
groves of orange, and inhale the fragrance of an Arabian garden. Paul,
in one of his "darkened hours," converted this palace into barracks and
a riding-school; but it has since been restored, in some degree, to its
ancient splendour.
The palace of Paul, in which he was assassinated, has been uninhabited
since his death. But the triumph of modern architecture in St.
Petersburgh is the palace of the Grand-duke Michael. I shall not attempt
any description of this palace; but, to give some notion of its
splendours to my calculating countrymen, I shall merely remark that it
cost upward of seventeen millions of rubles. But I am weary of palaces;
of wandering through magnificent apartments, where scene after scene
bursts upon my eyes, and, before I begin to feel at home in them, I find
myself ordered out by the footman. Will the reader believe me? On the
opposite side of the river is a little wooden house, more interesting in
my eyes than all the palaces in St. Petersburgh. It is the humble
residence of Peter the Great. I visited it for the last time after
rambling through the gorgeous palace of the Grand-duke Michael. It is
one story high, low roofed, with a little piazza around it, and contains
a sitting-room, bedroom, and dining-parlours; and Peter himself, with
his own axe, assisted in its construction. The rooms are only eight feet
in height, the sitting-room is fifteen feet square, the dining-room
fifteen feet by twelve, and the bedchamber ten feet square. In the first
there is a chapel and shrine, where the Russian visiter performs his
orisons and prays for the soul of Peter. Around the cottage is a neat
garden, and a boat made by Peter himself is suspended to one of the
walls. I walked around the cottage, inside and out; listened
attentively, without understanding a word he said, to the garrulous
Russian cicerone, and sat down on the step of the front piazza. Opposite
was that long range of imperial palaces extending for more than a mile
on the Neva, and surpassing all other royal residences in Europe or the
world. When Peter sat in the door of this humble cottage, the ground
where they stood was all morass and forest. Where I saw the lofty spires
of magnificent churches, he looked out upon fishermen's huts. My eyes
fell upon the golden spire of the church of the citadel glittering in
the sunbeams, and reminding me that in its dismal charnelhouse slept the
tenant of the humble cottage, the master-spirit which had almost created
out of nothing all this splendour. I saw at the same time the beginning
and the end of greatness. The humble dwelling is preserved with
religious reverence, and even now is the most interesting monument which
the imperial city can show.
And here, at this starting-point in her career, I take my leave of the
Palmyra of the North. I am compelled to omit many things which he who
speaks of St. Petersburgh at all ought not to omit: her magnificent
churches; her gigantic and splendid theatres; her literary, scientific,
and eleemosynary institutions, and that which might form the subject of
a chapter in her capital, her government and laws. I might have seen
something of Russian society, as my friend Luoff had arrived in St.
Petersburgh; but, with my limited time, the interchange of these
civilities interfered with my seeing the curiosities of the capital.
My intimacy with the colonel had fallen off, though we still were on
good terms. The fact is, I believe I fell into rather queer company in
St. Petersburgh, and very soon found the colonel to be the most thorough
roue I ever met. He seemed to think that travelling meant dissipating;
he had never travelled but once, and that was with the army to Paris;
and, except when on duty, his whole time had been spent in riot and
dissipation; and though sometimes he referred to hard fighting, he
talked more of the pleasures of that terrible campaign than of its toils
and dangers. In consideration of my being a stranger and a young man, he
constituted himself my Mentor, and the advice which, in all soberness,
he gave me as the fruits of his experience, was a beautiful guide for
the road to ruin. I have no doubt that, if I had given myself up
entirely to him, he would have feted me all the time I was in St.
Petersburgh; but this did not suit me, and I afterward fell in with the
Pole, who had his own vagaries too, and who, being the proprietor of a
cloth manufactory, did not suit the aristocratic notions of the colonel,
and so our friendship cooled. My intimacy with his friend the prince,
however, increased. I called upon him frequently, and he offered to
accompany me everywhere; but as in sightseeing I love to be alone, I
seldom asked him, except for a twilight walk. Old associations were all
that now bound together him and the colonel; their feelings, their
fortunes, and their habits of life were entirely different; and the
colonel, instead of being displeased with my seeking the prince in
preference to himself, was rather gratified. Altogether, the colonel
told me, he was much mistaken in me, but he believed I was a good fellow
after all; excused my regular habits somewhat on the ground of my
health; and the day before that fixed for my departure, asked me to pass
the evening with him, and to bring my friend the Pole. In the evening we
went to the colonel's apartments. The prince was there, and, after an
elegant little supper, happening to speak of a Frenchman and a Prussian
living in the hotel, with whom I had become acquainted, he sent down for
them to come up and join us. The table was cleared, pipes and tobacco
were brought on, and Champagne was the only wine. We had a long and
interesting conversation on the subject of the road to Warsaw, and
particularly in regard to the bloody passage of the Berezina, at which
both the colonel and the prince were present. The servant, a favourite
serf (who the next day robbed the colonel of every valuable article in
his apartment), being clumsy in opening a new bottle of Champagne, the
colonel said he must return to army practice, and reaching down his
sabre, with a scientific blow took off the neck without materially
injuring the bottle or disturbing the contents. This military way of
decanting Champagne aided its circulation, and head after head fell
rapidly before the naked sabre. I had for some time avoided emptying my
glass, which, in the general hurry of business, was not noticed; but, as
soon as the colonel discovered it, he cried out, "Treason, treason
against good fellowship. America is a traitor." I pleaded ill health,
but he would not listen to me; upbraided me that the friend and old ally
of Russia should fail him; turned up his glass on the table, and swore
he would not touch it again unless I did him justice. All followed his
example; all decided that America was disturbing the peace of nations;
the glasses were turned up all around, and a dead stop was put to the
merriment. I appealed, begged, and protested; and the colonel became
positive, dogged, and outrageous. The prince came to my aid, and
proposed that the difficulty between Russia and America should be
submitted to the arbitration of France and Prussia. He had observed
these powers rather backing out. The eyes of France were already in a
fine phrensy rolling, and Prussia's tongue had long been wandering; and
in apprehension of their own fate, these mighty powers leaned to mercy.
It was necessary, however, to propitiate the colonel, and they decided
that, to prevent the effusion of blood, I should start once more the
flow of wine; that we should begin again with a bumper all around; and,
after that, every man should do as he pleased. The colonel was obliged
to be content; and swearing that he would drink for us all, started
anew.
The Prussian was from Berlin, and this led the colonel to speak of the
stirring scenes that had taken place in that capital on the return of
the Russian army from Paris; and, after a while, the Prussian,
personally unknown to the colonel, told him that his name was still
remembered in Berlin as a leader in Russian riot and dissipation, and
particularly as having carried off, in a most daring manner, a lady of
distinguished family; and--"go on," said the colonel--"killed her
husband." "He refused my challenge," said the colonel, "but sought my
life, and I shot him like a dog." The whole party now became uproarious;
the colonel begged me, by all the friendly relations between Russia and
America, to hold on till breakfast-time; but, being the coolest man
present, and not knowing what farther developments might take place, I
broke up the party.
In the morning my passport was not ready. I went off to the
police-office for it, and when I returned the horses had not come, and
the valet brought me the usual answer, that there were none. My Pole was
glad to linger another day for the sake of his flirtation with the
little girl opposite, and so we lounged through the day, part of the
time in the bazar of a Persian, where I came near ruining myself by an
offer I made for a beautiful emerald; and after one more and the last
twilight stroll on the banks of the Neva and up the Newski Perspective,
we returned at an early hour, and for the last time in Russia, slept in
a bed.
At nine o'clock the next morning a kibitka drove up to the door of our
hotel, demanding an American and a Pole for Warsaw. All the servants of
the hotel were gathered around, arranging the luggage, and making a
great parade of getting off the distinguished travellers. The travellers
themselves seemed equipped for a long journey. One wore a blue
roundabout jacket, military cap and cloak, with whiskers and a mustache
tending to red; the other, a tall, stout, Herculean fellow, was habited
in the most outre costume of a Russian traveller; a cotton dressing-gown
of every variety of colours, red and yellow predominating; coarse gray
trousers; boots coming above his knees; a cap _tout a fait farouche_,
and there was no mistake about the colour of his hair and mustaches; he
was moving slowly around the kibitka in his travelling dress, and
looking up to the window opposite, to give his dulcinea the melancholy
intelligence that he was going away, and perhaps to catch one farewell
smile at parting. The carriage of these distinguished travellers was the
kibitka, one of the national vehicles of Russia, being a long,
round-bottomed box or cradle on four wheels, probably the old Scythian
wagon, resting, in proud contempt of the effeminacy of springs, on the
oaken axles; the hubs of the wheels were two feet long, the linchpins of
wood, the body of the carriage fastened to the wheels by wooden pins,
ropes, and sticks; and, except the tires of the wheels, there was not a
nail or piece of iron about it. The hinder part was covered with
matting, open in front somewhat like an oldfashioned bonnet, and
supported by an arched stick, which served as a linchpin for the hind
wheels; a bucket of grease hung under the hind axle, and the bottom of
the kibitka was filled with straw; whole cost of outfit, thirteen
dollars. Before it were three horses, one in shafts and one on each
side, the centre one having a high bow over his neck, painted yellow and
red, to which a rein was tied for holding up his head, and also a bell,
to a Russian postillion more necessary than harness. The travellers took
their places in the bottom of the kibitka, and the postillion, a rough,
brutal-looking fellow, in gray coat and hat turned up at the sides,
mounted in front, catching a seat where he could on the rim of the
wagon, about three inches wide; and in this dashing equipage we started
for a journey of a thousand miles to the capital of another kingdom. We
rolled for the last time through the streets of St. Petersburgh, gazed
at the domes, and spires, and magnificent palaces, and in a few moments
passed the barrier.
I left St. Petersburgh, as I did every other city, with a certain
feeling of regret that, in all probability, I should never see it more;
still the cracking of the postillion's whip and the galloping of the
horses created in me that high excitement which I always felt in setting
out for a new region. Our first stage was to Czarskoselo, our second to
Cazena, where there was another palace. It was dark when we reached the
third, a small village, of which I did not even note the name. I shall
not linger on this road, for it was barren of interest and incident, and
through a continued succession of swamps and forests. For two hundred
miles it tried the tenure of adhesion between soul and body, being made
of the trunks of trees laid transversely, bound down by long poles or
beams fastened into the ground with wooden pegs covered with layers of
boughs, and the whole strewed over with sand and earth; the trunks in
general were decayed and sunken, and the sand worn or washed away,
reminding me of the worst of our western corduroy roads. Our wagon being
without springs, and our seats a full-length extension on straw on the
bottom, without the bed, pillows, and cushions which the Russians
usually have, I found this ride one of the severest trials of physical
endurance I ever experienced. My companion groaned and brushed his
mustaches, and talked of the little girl at St. Petersburgh. In my
previous journey in Russia I had found the refreshment of tea, and on
this, often when almost exhausted, I was revived by that precious
beverage. I stood it three days and nights, but on the fourth completely
broke down. I insensibly slipped down at full length in the bottom of
the wagon; the night was cold and rainy; my companion covered me up to
the eyes with straw, and I slept from the early part of the evening like
a dead man. The horses were changed three times; the wagon was lifted up
under me, and the wheels greased; and three times my companion
quarrelled with the postmaster over my body without waking me. About six
o'clock in the morning he roused me. I could not stir hand or foot; my
mouth was full of dust and straw, and I felt a sense of suffocation. In
a few moments I crawled out, staggered a few steps, and threw myself
down on the floor of a wretched posthouse. My companion put my
carpet-bag under my head, wrapped cloaks and greatcoats around me, and
prepared me some tea; but I loathed everything. I was in that miserable
condition which every traveller has some time experienced; my head
ringing, every bone aching, and perfectly reckless as to what became of
me. While my companion stood over me I fell asleep, and believe I should
have been sleeping there yet if he had not waked me. He said we must go
on at all risks until we found a place where we could remain with some
degree of comfort. I begged and entreated to be left to myself, but he
was inexorable. He lifted me up, hauled me out to the kibitka, which was
filled with fresh straw, and seated me within, supporting me on his
shoulder.
It was a beautiful day. We moved moderately, and toward evening came to
a posthouse kept by a Jew, or, rather, a Jewess, who was so kind and
attentive that we determined to stay there all night. She brought in
some clean straw and spread it on the floor, where I slept gloriously.
My companion was tougher than I, but he could not stand the fleas and
bugs, and about midnight went out and slept in the kibitka. In the
morning we found that he had been too late; that the kibitka had been
stripped of every article except himself and the straw. Fortunately, my
carpet-bag had been brought in; but I received a severe blow in the loss
of a cane, an old friend and travelling companion, which had been with
me in every variety of scene, and which I had intended to carry home
with me, and retain as a companion through life. It is almost
inconceivable how much this little incident distressed me. It was a
hundred times worse than the loss of my carpet-bag. I felt the want of
it every moment; I had rattled it on the Boulevards of Paris, in the
eternal city, the Colosseum, and the places thereabout; had carried it
up the burning mountain, and poked it into the red-hot lava; had borne
it in the Acropolis, on the field of Marathon, and among the ruins of
Ephesus; had flourished it under the beard of the sultan, and the eyes
and nose of the emperor and autocrat of all the Russias; in deserts and
in cities it had been my companion and friend. Unsparing Nemesis, let
loose your vengeance upon the thief who stole it! The rascals had even
carried off the rope traces, and every loose article about the kibitka.
Notwithstanding this, however, I ought not to omit remarking the general
security of travelling in Russia and Poland. The immense plains; the
distance of habitations; the number of forests; the custom of travelling
by night as well as by day; the negligence of all measures to ensure the
safety of the roads, all contribute to favour robbery and murders; and
yet an instance of either is scarcely known in years. It was difficult
on those immense levels, which seemed independent of either general or
individual proprietors, to recognise even the bounds of empires. The
Dwina, however, a natural boundary, rolls between Russia and Poland; and
at Vitepsk we entered the territories of what was once another kingdom.
The surface of Poland forms part of that immense and unvaried plain
which constitutes the northern portion of all the central European
countries. A great portion of this plain is overspread with a deep layer
of sand, alternating however, with large clayey tracts and extensive
marshes; a winter nearly as severe as that of Sweden, and violent winds
blowing uninterruptedly over this wide open region, are consequences of
its physical structure and position. The Roman arms never penetrated any
part of this great level tract, the whole of which was called by them
Sarmatia; and Sarmatia and Scythia were in their descriptions always
named together as the abode of nomadic and savage tribes. From the
earliest era it appears to have been peopled by the Sclavonic tribes; a
race widely diffused, and distinguished by a peculiar language, by a
strong national feeling, and by a particular train of superstitious
ideas. Though shepherds, they did not partake of the migratory character
of the Teutonic or Tartar nations; and were long held in the most cruel
bondage by the Huns, the Goths, and other nations of Asia, for whom
their country was a path to the conquest of the west of Europe.
In the tenth century the Poles were a powerful and warlike nation. In
the fourteenth Lithuania was incorporated with it, and Poland became one
of the most powerful monarchies in Europe. For two centuries it was the
bulwark of Christendom against the alarming invasions of the Turks; the
reigns of Sigismund and Sobieski hold a high place in military history;
and, until the beginning of the last century, its martial character gave
it a commanding influence in Europe.
It is unnecessary to trace the rapid and irrecoverable fall of Poland.
On the second partition, Kosciusko, animated by his recent struggle for
liberty in America, roused his countrymen to arms. But the feet of three
giants were upon her breast; and Suwarrow, marching upon the capital,
storming the fortress of Praga, and butchering in cold blood thirty
thousand inhabitants, extinguished, apparently for ever, the rights and
the glories of Poland. Living as we do apart from the rest of the world,
with no national animosities transmitted by our fathers, it is
impossible to realize the feeling of deadly hatred existing between
neighbouring nations from the disputes of ancestors centuries ago. The
history of Russia and Poland presents a continued series of
bloodstained pages. Battle after battle has nourished their mutual hate,
and for a long time it had been the settled feeling of both that Russia
or Poland must fall. It is perhaps fortunate for the rest of Europe that
this feeling has always existed; for, if they were united in heart, the
whole south of Europe would lie at the mercy of their invading armies.
Napoleon committed a fatal error in tampering with the brave and
patriotic Poles; for he might have rallied around him a nation of
soldiers who, in gratitude, would have stood by him until they were
exterminated.
But to return to Vitepsk. Here, for the first time, we fell into the
memorable road traversed by Napoleon on his way to Moscow. The town
stands on the banks of the Dwina, built on both sides of the river, and
contains a population of about fifteen thousand, a great portion of whom
are Jews. In itself, it has but little to engage the attention of the
traveller; but I strolled through its streets with extraordinary
interest, remembering it as the place where Napoleon decided on his
fatal march to Moscow. It was at the same season and on the very same
day of the year that the "grand army," having traversed the gloomy
forests of Lithuania in pursuit of an invincible and intangible enemy,
with the loss of more than a hundred thousand men, emerged from the last
range of woods and halted at the presence of the hostile fires that
covered the plain before the city. Napoleon slept in his tent on an
eminence at the left of the main road, and before sunrise appeared at
the advanced posts, and by its first rays saw the Russian army, eighty
thousand strong, encamped on a high plain commanding all the avenues of
the city. Ten thousand horsemen made a show of defending its passes; and
at about ten o'clock, Murat le Beau Sabreur, intoxicated by the
admiration his presence excited, at the head of a single regiment of
chasseurs charged the whole Russian cavalry. He was repulsed, and driven
back to the foot of the hillock on which Napoleon stood. The chasseurs
of the French guards formed a circle around him, drove off the assailant
lancers, and the emperor ordered the attack to cease; and, pointing to
the city, his parting words to Murat were, "To-morrow at five o'clock
the sun of Austerlitz."
At daylight the camp of Barclay de Tolly was deserted; not a weapon, not
a single valuable left behind; and a Russian soldier asleep under a bush
was the sole result of the day expected to be so decisive. Vitepsk,
except by a few miserable Jews and Jesuits, like the Russian camp, was
also abandoned. The emperor mounted his horse and rode through the
deserted camp and desolate streets of the city. Chagrined and mortified,
he pitched his tents in an open courtyard; but, after a council of war
with Murat, Eugene, and others of his principal officers, laid his sword
upon the table, and resolved to finish in Vitepsk the campaign of that
year. Well had it been for him had he never changed that determination.
He traced his line of defence on the map, and explored Vitepsk and its
environs as a place where he was likely to make a long residence; formed
establishments of all kinds; erected large ovens capable of baking at
once thirty thousand loaves of bread; pulled down a range of stone
houses which injured the appearance of the square of the palace, and
made arrangements for opening the theatre with Parisian actors. But in a
few days he was observed to grow restless; the members of his household
recollected his expression at the first view of the deserted Vitepsk,
"Do you think I have come so far to conquer these miserable huts?"
Segur says that he was observed to wander about his apartments as if
pursued by some dangerous temptation. Nothing could rivet his attention.
Every moment he began, stopped, and resumed his labour. At length,
overwhelmed with the importance of the considerations that agitated him,
"he threw himself on the floor of his apartment; his frame, exhausted by
the heat and the struggles of his mind, could only bear a covering of
the slightest texture. He rose from his sleepless pillow possessed once
more with the genius of war; his voice deepens, his eyes flash fire, and
his countenance darkens. His attendants retreat from his presence,
struck with mingled awe and respect. His plan is fixed, his
determination taken, his order of march traced out."
The last council occupied eight hours. Berthier by a melancholy
countenance, by lamentations, and even by tears; Lobau by the cold and
haughty frankness of a warrior; Caulaincourt with obstinacy and
impetuosity amounting to violence; Duroc by a chilling silence, and
afterward by stern replies; and Daru straightforward and with firmness
immoveable, opposed his going; but, as if driven on by that fate he
almost defied, he broke up the council with the fatal determination.
"Blood has not been shed, and Russia is too great to yield without
fighting. Alexander can only negotiate after a great battle. I will
proceed to the holy city in search of that battle, and I will gain it.
Peace waits me at the gates of Moscow." From that hour commenced that
train of terrible disasters which finally drove him from the throne of
France, and sent him to die an exile on a small island in the Indian
Ocean. I walked out on the Moscow road, by which the grand army, with
pomp and martial music, with Murat, and Ney, and Duroc, and Daru,
inspired by the great names of Smolensk and Moscow, plunged into a
region of almost pathless forest, where most of them were destined to
find a grave. I was at first surprised at the utter ignorance of the
inhabitants of Vitepsk, in regard to the circumstances attending the
occupation of the city by Napoleon. A Jew was my cicerone, who talked of
the great scenes of which this little city had in his own day been the
theatre almost as matter of tradition, and without half the interest
with which, even now, the Greek points the stranger to the ruins of
Argos or the field of Marathon; and this ignorance in regard to the only
matters that give an interest to this dreary road I remarked during the
whole journey. I was so unsuccessful in my questions, and the answers
were so unsatisfactory, that my companion soon became tired of acting as
my interpreter. Indeed, as he said, he himself knew more than any one I
met, for he had travelled it before in company with an uncle, of the
Polish legion; but even he was by no means familiar with the ground.
We left Vitepsk with a set of miserable horses, rode all night, and at
noon of the next day were approaching the banks of the Berezina,
memorable for the dreadful passage which almost annihilated the wretched
remnant of Napoleon's army. It was impossible, in passing over the same
ground, not to recur to the events of which it had been the scene. The
"invincible legions," which left Vitepsk two hundred thousand strong,
were now fighting their dreadful retreat from Moscow through regulars
and Cossacks, reduced to less than twelve thousand men marching in
column, with a train of thirty thousand undisciplined followers, sick,
wounded, and marauders of every description. The cavalry which crossed
the Niemen thirty-seven thousand in number was reduced to one hundred
and fifty men on horseback. Napoleon collected all the officers who
remained mounted, and formed them into a body, in all about five
hundred, which he called his sacred squadron; officers served as
privates, and generals of divisions as captains. He ordered the
carriages of the officers, many of the wagons, and even the eagles
belonging to the different corps, to be burned in his presence; and
drawing his sword, with the stern remark that he had sufficiently acted
the emperor, and must once more play the general, marched on foot at the
head of his old guard. He had hardly reorganized before the immense pine
forests which border the Berezina echoed with the thunder of the Russian
artillery; in a moment all remains of discipline were lost. In the last
stage of weakness and confusion they were roused by loud cries before
them, and, to their great surprise and joy, recognised the armies of
Victor and Oudinot. The latter knew nothing of the terrible disasters of
the army of Moscow, and they were thrown into consternation and then
melted to tears when they saw behind Napoleon, instead of the invincible
legions which had left them in splendid equipments, a train of gaunt and
spectral figures, their faces black with dirt, and long bristly beards,
covered with rags, female pelisses, pieces of carpet, with bare and
bleeding feet, or bundled with rags, and colonels and generals marching
pellmell with soldiers, unarmed and shameless, without any order or
discipline, kept together and sleeping round the same fires only by the
instinct of self-preservation.
About noon we drove into the town of Borizoff. It stands on the banks
of the Berezina, and is an old, irregular-looking place, with a heavy
wooden church in the centre of an open square. As usual, at the door of
the posthouse a group of Jews gathered around us. When Napoleon took
possession of Borizoff the Jews were the only inhabitants who remained;
and they, a scattered, wandering, and migratory people, without any
attachment of soil or country, were ready to serve either the French or
Russians, according to the inducements held out to them. A few noble
instances are recorded where this persecuted and degraded people
exhibited a devotion to the land that sheltered them honourable to their
race and to the character of man; but in general they were false and
faithless. Those who gathered around us in Borizoff looked as though
they might be the very people who betrayed the Russians. One of them
told us that a great battle had been fought there, but we could not find
any who had been present at the fatal passage of the river. We dined at
the posthouse, probably with less anxiety than was felt by Napoleon or
any of the flying Frenchmen; but even we were not permitted to eat in
peace; for, before we had finished, our vehicle was ready, with worse
horses than usual, and a surlier postillion. We sent the postillion on
ahead, and walked down to the bank of the river. On the night preceding
the passage, Napoleon himself had command of Borizoff, with six thousand
guards prepared for a desperate contest. He passed the whole night on
his feet; and while waiting for the approach of daylight in one of the
houses on the border of the river, so impracticable seemed the chance of
crossing with the army that Murat proposed to him to put himself under
the escort of some brave and determined Poles, and save himself while
there was yet time; but the emperor indignantly rejected the proposition
as a cowardly flight. The river is here very broad, and divided into
branches. On the opposite side are the remains of an embankment that
formed part of the Russian fortifications. When the Russians were driven
out of Borizoff by Oudinot, they crossed the river, burned the bridge,
and erected these embankments.
Besides the sanguinary contest of the French and Russians, this river is
also memorable for a great battle between my companion and our
postillion. In the middle of the bridge the postillion stopped and
waited till we came up; he grumbled loudly at being detained, to which
my companion replied in his usual conciliatory and insinuating manner,
by laying his cane over the fellow's shoulders; but on the bridge of
Borizoff the blood of the Lithuanian was roused; and, perhaps, urged on
by the memory of the deeds done there by his fathers, he sprang out of
the wagon, and with a warcry that would not have disgraced a Cossack of
the Don, rushed furiously upon my friend. Oh for a Homer to celebrate
that fight on the bridge of Borizoff! The warriors met, not like Grecian
heroes, with spear and shield, and clad in steel, but with their naked
fists and faces bare to take the blows. My friend was a sublime
spectacle. Like a rock, firm and immoveable, he stood and met the charge
of the postillion; in short, in the twinkling of an eye he knocked the
postillion down. Those who know say that it is more trying to walk over
a field of battle after all is over than to be in the fight; and I
believe it from my experience in our trying passage of the Berezina;
for, when I picked up the discomfited postillion, whose face was
covered with blood, I believe that I had the worst of it. All great
victories are tested by their results, and nothing could be more
decisive than that over the postillion. He arose a wiser and much more
tractable man. At first he looked very stupid when he saw me leaning
over him, and very startled when he rubbed his hand over his face and
saw it stained with blood; but, raising himself, he caught sight of his
victor, and without a word got into the wagon, walked the horses over
the bridge, and at the other end got out and threw himself on the
ground.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and we lingered on the bridge. Crossing
it, we walked up the bank on the opposite side toward the place where
Napoleon erected his bridges for the passage of his army. All night the
French worked at the bridges by the light of the enemy's fires on the
opposite side. At daylight the fires were abandoned, and the Russians,
supposing the attempt here to be a feint, were seen in full retreat. The
emperor, impatient to get possession of the opposite bank, pointed it
out to the bravest. A French aiddecamp and Lithuanian count threw
themselves into the river, and, in spite of the ice, which cut their
horses' breasts, reached the opposite bank in safety. About one o'clock
the bank on which we stood was entirely cleared of Cossacks, and the
bridge for the infantry was finished. The first division crossed it
rapidly with its cannon, the men shouting "_Vive l'empereur!_" The
passage occupied three days. The number of stragglers and the quantity
of baggage were immense. On the night of the twenty-seventh the
stragglers left the bridge, tore down the whole village, and made fires
with the materials, around which they crouched their shivering figures,
and from which it was impossible to tear themselves away. At daylight
they were roused by the report of Witgenstein's cannon thundering over
their heads, and again all rushed tumultuously to the bridges. The
Russians, with Platow and his Cossacks, were now in full communication
on both sides of the river. On the left bank, Napoleon's own presence of
mind and the bravery of his soldiers gave him a decided superiority;
but, in the language of Scott, the scene on the right bank had become
the wildest and most horrible which war can exhibit.
"Victor, with eight or ten thousand men, covered the retreat over the
bridges, while behind his line thousands of stragglers, old men, women,
and children, were wandering by the side of this river like the fabled
spectres which throng the banks of the infernal Styx, seeking in vain
for passage. The balls of the Russians began to fall among the
disordered mass, and the whole body rushed like distracted beings toward
the bridges, every feeling of prudence or humanity swallowed up by the
animal instinct of self-preservation. The weak and helpless either
shrunk from the fray and sat down to wait their fate at a distance, or,
mixing in it, were thrust over the bridges, crushed under carriages, cut
down with sabres, or trampled to death under the feet of their
countrymen. All this while the action continued with fury; and, as if
the heavens meant to match their wrath with that of man, a hurricane
arose and added terrors to a scene which was already of a character so
dreadful. About midday the larger bridge, constructed for artillery and
heavy carriages, broke down, and multitudes were forced into the water.
The scream of the despairing multitude became at this crisis for a
moment so universal, that it rose shrilly above the wild whistling of
the tempest and the sustained and redoubled hourras of the Cossacks. The
dreadful scene continued till dark. As the obscurity came on, Victor
abandoned the station he had defended so bravely, and led the remnant of
his troops in their turn across. All night the miscellaneous multitude
continued to throng across the bridge under the fire of the Russian
artillery. At daybreak the French engineers finally set fire to the
bridge, and all that remained on the other side, including many
prisoners, and a great quantity of guns and baggage, became the property
of the Russians. The amount of the French loss was never exactly known;
but the Russian report concerning the bodies of the invaders, which were
collected and burned as soon as the thaw permitted, states that upward
of thirty-six thousand were found in the Berezina."
The whole of this scene was familiar to me as matter of history; the
passage of the Berezina had in some way fastened itself upon my mind as
one of the most fearful scenes in the annals of war; and, besides this,
at St. Petersburgh the colonel and prince had given me a detailed
account of the horrors of that dreadful night, for they were both with
Witgenstein's army, by the light of the snow, the course of the river,
and the noise, directing a murderous fire of artillery against the dark
mass moving over the bridge; and nearer still, my companion had visited
the place in company with his uncle, of the Polish legion, and repeated
to me the circumstances of individual horror which he had heard from his
relative, surpassing human belief. The reader will excuse me if I have
lingered too long on the banks of that river; and perhaps, too, he will
excuse me when I tell him that, before leaving it, I walked down to its
brink and bathed my face in its waters. Others have done so at the
classic streams of Italy and Greece; but I rolled over the Arno and the
Tiber in a vetturino without stopping, and the reader will remember that
I jumped over the Ilissus.