THE HORRORS OF THE BERESINA[45]
[Footnote 45: References: Bertin, La campagne de 1812,
d'apres des temoins oculaires. Du Casse, Memoires a
l'histoire de la campagne de 1812 en Russie. Exner, Der
Antheil der Koenigl. Saechsischen Armee am Feldzuge gegen
Russland, 1812. Lafon, Histoire de la conjuration du Gen.
Malet, avec des details officiels sur cette affaire. Labaume,
Relation circonstanciee de la campagne de Russie. Lecointe de
Laveau, Moscou avant et apres l'incendie, ou notice contenant
une description de cette capitale, des moeurs de ses
habitants, des evenements qui se passerent pendant
l'incendie, et des malheurs qui accablerent l'armee francaise
pendant la retraite de 1812. Mikhailowsky-Danilewsky, Le
passage de la Beresina. von Pfuel, E., Der Ruckzug der
Franzosen aus Russland. de Puibusque, Lettres sur la guerre
de Russie, en 1812, sur la ville de Saint-Petersbourg, les
moeurs et les usages des habitants de la Russie et de la
Pologne.]
Napoleon at Bay -- The Enemy at Fault -- The Crossing of the
Beresina -- The Carnage -- End of the Tragedy -- Napoleon's
Departure -- The Remnants of the Army at Vilna -- The Russian
Generals -- Napoleon's Journey -- Malet's Conspiracy -- The
Emperor's Anxiety -- The State of France -- Affairs in Spain.
The situation of the French was desperate indeed. With a relentless
foe behind, and on each side, and now in front protected by the
rampart of a swollen river, which was overflowing its banks and was
bordered on both sides by dense forests, the army seemed doomed. A
single overmastering thought began to take possession of Napoleon's
mind--that of his personal safety. He appeared to take a momentous
decision--the determination to sacrifice his army bit by bit that he
might save its head. This resolution once formed, he became strong and
courageous, his head was clear, and his invention active. Oudinot was
summoned, with his eight thousand men, to drive out Tchitchagoff; and
orders were sent to Victor, commanding him to take the eleven
thousand which he had, and at any hazard cut off Wittgenstein from
the Beresina. Schwarzenberg had been temporarily checked by a division
of Russians under Sacken, and was no longer a factor in the problem.
Oudinot accomplished his task, but the Russians fired the bridge as
they fled.
Napoleon was scarcely consoled by news that his cavalry had found a
ford at Studjenka. Early on the twenty-third the French
bridge-builders, with all available assistants and material, were on
their way up the river. The remnants of the army were reorganized, and
the baggage-train was reduced to the smallest possible dimensions.
Unfortunately, Victor had not received his orders in time, and,
ignorant of the Emperor's plans, had changed his line of march to one
more southerly, thus leaving the road to Studjenka open for
Wittgenstein, who abandoned the pursuit and marched direct to the
spot. The latter's advance was, however, slow; Tchitchagoff was
completely deceived, as many of the French believe, by a feint of
Oudinot's, but, as he himself declared, both by false information
concerning the movements of Schwarzenberg, and by misrepresentations
concerning Napoleon's march as communicated through both Kutusoff and
Wittgenstein. Be this as it may, the veterans from the Danube marched
a whole day down the stream to guard against an imaginary danger. The
French therefore worked at Studjenka without disturbance, and, as the
frost set in once more, the swampy shores were hardened enough to make
easy the approach to their works. By the twenty-sixth two bridges
were completed--a light one for infantry early in the morning, and
late in the afternoon another considered strong enough for artillery
and wagons. At one o'clock Oudinot's foot-soldiers began to cross, and
a body of cavalry successfully swam their horses over the stream,
which owing to the freshet was now in places five feet deep instead of
three and a half as when the ford was first discovered; a few hours
later artillery followed, and the opposite shore was cleared of the
enemy sufficiently to open the bridge-head entirely, and control the
direct road to Vilna, which leaves Minsk to the south. This great
success was due partly to unparalleled good fortune, but chiefly to
the gallant fellows who worked for hours without a murmur in the
freezing water, amid cakes of grinding ice.
With two short interruptions, of three and four hours respectively,
due to the breaking of the heavier bridge, the crossing went forward
irregularly, at times almost intermitting, until the morning of the
twenty-eighth. About noon on the twenty-seventh the Emperor passed;
having superintended certain repairs to the bridge, he started next
morning for Zembin. The same afternoon, Victor's van reached
Borrissoff somewhat in advance of Wittgenstein, who came up a few
hours later, and attacking the former's rear, captured two thousand
men. Tchitchagoff, having finally learned the truth, appeared that
night opposite Borrissoff; communication with the opposite shore was
quickly established, and after a conference the two belated Russian
generals agreed to march up-stream, on the right and left banks
respectively. At eight next morning Tchitchagoff attacked Oudinot and
Ney--twenty-six thousand men against seventeen thousand; two hours
later Wittgenstein, with twenty-five thousand, fell upon Victor, who
now had about seven thousand. Yet the French kept the bridges.
Throughout the day a bloody fight went on; it was rendered uncertain
and disorderly by the thousands of stragglers present, and by the
intensity of the steadily increasing cold. Behind the two heroic
combats scenes were occurring which beggar description. Incredible
numbers of stragglers cumbered the roadways and approaches; the vast
mob of camp-followers held stubbornly to their possessions, and, with
loud imprecations, lashed their tired horses while they put their own
shoulders to the wagon wheels. Hundreds were trampled under foot;
families were torn asunder amid wails and shrieks that filled the air;
the weak were pushed from the bridges into the dark flood now
thickening under the fierce cold. Toward midday a cutting wind began
to blow, and by three it was a hurricane. At that instant the heavier
bridge gave way, and all upon it were engulfed. An onlooker declared
that above storm and battle a yell of mortal agony rose which rang in
his ears for weeks.
The mob on the river-bank was momentarily sobered, and for a time
there was order in crossing the remaining bridge; but as dusk fell
both wind and battle raged more fiercely, and groups began to surge
out on right and left to pass those in front. Many dashed headlong
into the angry river; others, finding no opening, seated themselves in
dumb despair to wait the event. At nine the remnant of Victor's ranks
began to cross, and the Russians commenced cannonading the bridge.
Soon the beams were covered with corpses, laid like the transverse
logs on a corduroy road; but the frightful transit went on until all
the soldiers had passed. The heavy bridge was temporarily repaired,
but at last neither was safe; little knots gathered from the rabble at
intervals and rushed recklessly over the toppling structures, until at
eight next morning the French, not daring to wait longer, set fire to
both, leaving seven thousand of their followers in Studjenka. They
burned also the wooden track they had constructed through the swamps.
The Russian accounts of what was seen in the morning light portray
scenes unparalleled in history: a thousand or more charred corpses
were frozen fast on the surface of the river, many of the ghastly
heads being those of women and children; the huts of the town were
packed with the dead. Twenty-four thousand bodies were burned in one
holocaust, and it is solemnly stated that in the spring thaws twelve
thousand more were brought to light. Ten years afterward there were
still islets in the shallows of the stream covered with forget-me-nots
which decked the moldering bones of those who had perished during that
awful night of November twenty-eighth, 1812.
Next day the Emperor wrote to Maret confessing the truth. "The army is
numerous, but shockingly disorganized," he declared. "A fortnight
would be necessary to bring it once more under the standards; and how
can we find a fortnight? Cold and privation have disorganized it. We
may reach Vilna--can we maintain ourselves there? If we only could,
even for the first eight days! But suppose we were attacked within
that time, it is doubtful if we should be able to remain. Food! food!
food!--without that there are no atrocities which this unruly throng
would not commit against the town. In this situation I may regard my
presence in Paris as essential for France, for the Empire--yes, even
for the army." He also composed on the same day a bulletin, since
famous, which was dated December third. It speciously declared that
until November sixth the Emperor had been everywhere successful;
thereafter the elements had done their fell work. The only complete
truth it contained was the closing sentence: "The health of his
Majesty was never better." As the sorry remnants of the grand army
moved toward Vilna, they grew scantier and scantier. Many were
delirious from hunger and cold, many were in the agonies of typhus
fever. On December third there were still nine thousand in the ranks;
on the fifth the marshals were assembled to hear Napoleon explain his
determination to leave at once for Paris, and immediately afterward he
took his departure.
It was not a very "grand army" which was left behind under Murat's
command, with orders to form behind the Niemen. On the eighth the
thermometer marked twenty-five degrees below zero, and a few unarmed
wretches, perhaps five hundred in all, trailed after their leader into
Vilna. Their ears and throats, their legs and feet, were swathed in
rags; their bodies were wrapped in the threadbare garments of their
dead comrades, or in such cast-off woman's apparel as they had been
able to secure by the way. They were followed by Ney with four
hundred, Wrede with two thousand, and finally by two or three thousand
stragglers. After a few half-hearted and ineffectual efforts to
organize this mob into the semblance of an army, Murat abandoned the
attempt and posted away to his kingdom of Naples--a course severely
censured by the Emperor. This was the closing scene of Napoleon's
great drama of invasion. His men and horses had succumbed to summer
heats as rapidly and extensively as to winter frosts; he had brought
ruin to his enterprise by miscalculating the proportions of inanimate
nature and human strategy, and by fatal indecision at critical moments
when the statesman's delay was the soldier's ruin. Russia, like Spain,
had the strength of low organisms; her vigor was not centralized in
one member, the destruction of which would be the destruction of the
whole; Moscow was not the Russian empire, as Berlin was the Prussian
kingdom.
Yet justice requires the consideration of certain undoubted facts.
Making all due allowance, it is true that the elements were Napoleon's
worst foe when once his retreat was fairly under way, and it was not
the least of Napoleon's magnificent achievements that after the
crossing of the Beresina there was still the framework of an army
which within a few months was again that marvelous instrument with
which the campaigns of 1813 and 1814 were fought. This miracle was due
to the shortsightedness and timidity of the Russian generals.
Tchitchagoff is inexcusable both for the indifference he displayed
regarding the various points at which the Beresina might be crossed,
and for the ignorance which made him the easy dupe of feints and
misleading reports. As to Wittgenstein, the caution which he exercised
because operating alone was near in its character to cowardice; his
snail-like movements prevented any efficient cooeperation in the
general plan, and he failed in grasping a situation of affairs which
left open but a single line of retreat for Napoleon. Neither of these
two had any adequate conception of the losses suffered by the French,
and they permitted the last opportunity for annihilating the invaders
to escape. As to Kutusoff, who was fully informed concerning the utter
disintegration of the "grand army," his conduct in holding back the
main Russian force at the crucial moment is utterly indefensible; he
saved thousands of his troops, perhaps, but he has passed into history
as the man who is indirectly responsible for the rivers of blood which
were still to drench the continent of Europe. Both he and Wittgenstein
unloaded all the blame on Admiral Tchitchagoff, and contemporary
opinion sustained them. "Had it not been for the admiral," said the
commander-in-chief, replying to a toast proposed to the conqueror of
Napoleon, "the plain gentleman of Pskoff (namely, himself) could have
said: Europe breathes free again." This opinion is one which history
must reject as utterly false.
When the soldiers heard that their Emperor had departed there was an
almost universal outburst of frenzied wrath. "He flies," they
shrieked, "as in Egypt! He abandons us after he has sacrificed us!" As
has been remarked, this despair was natural, but the accusation was
unjust. Napoleon's abandonment of the grand army at Smorgoni was not a
desertion like the secret flight from Egypt; for now he was chief and
not subordinate, his own judgment was the court of final appeal.
Moreover, it was necessary for the very existence of the army that its
general should once more be emperor, the head of the state. Traveling
incognito, he passed through Vilna, Warsaw, and Dresden. Maret was
left in charge of matters in Lithuania, de Pradt was carefully
instructed how to treat the Poles, and on December fourteenth, at
Dresden, despatches were written to both Francis and Frederick William
in order to assure their continued adhesion. The King of Saxony was
firmly bound in the fetters of a personal fascination never entirely
dispelled. Twice on the long, swift journey efforts were made by
disenchanted German officers to assassinate Napoleon, but he escaped
by the secrecy of his flight. Such conspiracies were the presage of
what was soon to happen in Germany. They were trivial, however, when
compared with the state of public opinion in Paris as displayed by the
Malet conspiracy. In spite of all that he had done to establish a
settled society, France was not yet cured of its revolutionary habits;
it was only too clear that the constitution, codes, and admirable
administrative system were operative, not from political habit, but
by personal impulsion. This was the real sore; the conspiracy itself
was a grotesque affair, the work of a brain-sick enthusiast, lightly
formed and easily crushed.
Malet was a fiery nobleman who, having run the gamut between royalist
and radical, had turned conspirator, having, in 1800, plotted to seize
the First Consul on his way to Marengo, and again, in 1807, having
been imprisoned in the penitentiary of La Force for attempting to
overthrow the Empire. Feigning madness, he succeeded in being
transferred to an asylum, where he successfully reknit his
conspiracies, and finally escaped. On October twenty-third, 1812, he
presented himself to the commander of the Paris guard, announcing
Napoleon's death on the seventh; by the use of a forged decree of the
senate purporting to establish a provisional republican government,
and by the display of an amazing effrontery, he secured the adhesion
of both men and officers. Marching at their heads, he liberated his
accomplices, Lahorie and Guidal, from La Force, seized both Savary and
Pasquier, minister and prefect of police respectively, and wounded
Hulin, commandant of the city, in a similar attempt. But Doucet,
Hulin's assistant, seized and overpowered the daring conspirator,
Savary and Pasquier were at once released, and almost before the facts
were known throughout the city the accomplices of the plot were all
arrested. Malet and twelve of his associates were tried and executed.
The Paris wits declared that the police had made a great "tour de
force," and as far as the city was concerned the affair appeared to
have ended in a laugh. But Napoleon was dismayed, for he saw deeper.
"It is a massacre," he exclaimed, on hearing of the number shot.
If the Russian campaign had been successful, it would have put the
capstone on imperial splendor. But already its failure was known among
the French masses, and ghastly rumors were rife; the Emperor himself
was far distant; the Empress was not beloved; the little heir was
scarcely a personage; the imperial administration was much criticized;
the "system" was raising prices, depressing industry, and increasing
the privations of every household. Pius VII was now living in comfort
at Fontainebleau, but he was a prisoner, and earnest Catholics were
troubled; perhaps Heaven was visiting France with retribution. Worst
of all, ever since the nations at both extremities of Europe had risen
in arms against Napoleon's tyranny, French youth had perished under
the imperial eagles in appalling numbers, and throughout the districts
of France which were at heart royalist there was a rising tide of
bitter vindictiveness.
What had occurred in Spain did not allay the general uneasiness.
Marmont, having outmanoeuvered Wellington until July twenty-second,
had on that fatal day extended his left too far at Salamanca, and had
suffered overwhelming defeat; southern Spain was lost to France.
Suchet, having taken and held Tarragona, concentrated to the eastward,
so that by his holding Aragon and Catalonia for Napoleon, Joseph could
set up a government temporarily at Valencia. Wellington, hampered by
the distracted condition of English politics, had felt bound, in spite
of victory, to withdraw to the Portugal frontier.