CHAPTER VI.

[Illustration]

Invasion of Scythia by Darius—Destruction of Crassus and his army by the

Parthians—Retreat of Antony—Retreat and death of Julian—Retreat from

Moscow.

Darius, son of Hystaspes, having gained possession of the vast empire

which had been established by Cyrus, devoted his attention to the

regulation of its internal policy: a task which we are led to believe

he exercised with moderation and judgment. But the Persians were a

warlike nation, less advanced in civilization than their sovereign;

hence his care of the finances of the empire degraded him in their

eyes, and comparing his character with that of their former princes,

while they called Cyrus the father, and Cambyses the master, they

denominated Darius the broker of the empire. It was probably under the

knowledge of these feelings, that his wife, Atossa, daughter of Cyrus,

thus addressed him:[187] “O king, though possessed of such ample means,

thou sittest still, and gainest increase for the Persians neither of

subjects nor power. But it befits a young man who is the master of vast

resources, to manifest his worth in the performance of some mighty act,

that the Persians may fully know they have a man for their king. Now,

therefore, it profiteth thee twofold to do thus, both that the Persians

may understand there is a man at their head, and also that they may

be harassed by war, and for lack of leisure may not conspire against

you. And now thou mightest distinguish thyself during thy youth, for

the spirit groweth with the growing body; but it ageth also with the

aging body, and is blunted towards all action.” Darius answered, “All

these things which thou hast suggested, I have resolved to perform,

for I mean to build a bridge from this mainland to the other, to march

against the Scythians, and within a little while all these things

shall be accomplished.” Atossa replied, “Do not go first against the

Scythians, for they will be at your disposal at any time; but for my

sake lead an army against Greece. For I have heard reports of the

Grecian women, and wish much to have female slaves of Lacedæmon, and

Argos, and Corinth, and Athens.”

Some time elapsed before Darius was at leisure to pursue his schemes

of conquest; but after the Babylonian rebellion was quelled, when the

prosperity of Asia was at its height, he determined to invade the

Scythians under pretence of revenging the desolating incursion of

their ancestors into Media, a century before. With this view he sent

orders throughout his dominions, to some nations that they should

prepare infantry, others a fleet, others construct a bridge across the

Thracian Bosphorus, in which a Grecian artist, Mandrocles of Samos,

was employed. The fleet, which was contributed by the Asiatic Greeks,

he sent on to the Ister, or Danube, with orders to construct a bridge

there also, which was done, two days’ sail from the mouth of the river;

the land forces[188] he himself conducted through Thrace. Darius,

though a wise prince, was not exempt from that inordinate spirit of

boasting which has beset the eastern sovereigns in all ages. At the

source of the river Tearus, where are hot and cold medicinal springs

issuing from the same rock, he caused a column to be set up, with this

inscription:—“The fountains of Tearus pour forth the best and fairest

water of all rivers, and thither, on his march against the Scythians,

came the best and fairest of all men, Darius, son of Hystaspes, King

of the Persians, and of all the continent.” Another instance of this

spirit occurs, when he ordered a pile of stones to be raised at the

river Artiscus, as a monument of the magnitude of his army, each

individual being ordered to contribute one stone to the heap. Passing

onward,[189] he crossed the Ister, and entered Scythia, leaving the

Ionians behind to protect his return, but with permission to depart

home, unless he should reappear within sixty days. The Scythians did

not attempt open resistance; they blocked up the wells and springs,

and destroyed the forage throughout the country; and taking advantage

of their own wandering habits, harassed the Persians by leading them a

fruitless chase in pursuit of an enemy who seemed always within reach,

and yet could never be overtaken. After wandering over a vast extent

of desert, Darius began to weary of so unprofitable an occupation,

and indulging a hope, perhaps, that the enemy would be complaisant

enough to change their tactics for his own convenience, sent the

following message to Idanthyrsus, the Scythian king: “O wonderful man,

why wilt thou still fly, having the choice of these two things? If

thou esteemest thyself capable to stand up against me, abide, and do

battle; but if thou acknowledgest thyself to be the weaker, even then

desist from flight, and come to my presence, bringing earth and water,

gifts due to your master.” The proposal was conceived in the spirit

of our own chivalrous ancestors, and from them might have met with a

prompt acquiescence; but Idanthyrsus was not to be piqued into an act

of imprudence, and in truth more wisdom is visible in his reply than

in the request which led to it. “O Persian, this is my way: hitherto

I have never fled for fear of any man, neither do I now fly before

thee, nor act otherwise than I am wont in peace. And I will tell

thee wherefore I decline a battle. We have neither towns nor tilled

land, in defence of which we are compelled to fight; but if it be of

importance to thee to bring us to battle, lo, there are the tombs of

our ancestors; find them out, and endeavour to destroy them, and thou

shalt then know whether we will fight for our sepulchres, or whether

we will not. But, until this, unless we ourselves see reason, we

will not fight. So much for fighting. For masters, we own none, save

Jupiter, my ancestor, and Vesta, Queen of the Scythians. And instead of

sending earth and water, I will send you such a present as befits the

occasion; but as for calling thyself our master, I say, go hang.”[190]

Now the Scythians were very angry at the bare mention of servitude,

and sent one division to commune with the lonians who guarded the

bridge, while the rest of them, instead of still retreating before

the Persians, began to harass them by desultory attacks, in which

the Scythians had always the advantage over the Persian cavalry; but

when these fell back upon the infantry, they were secure from further

molestation. These attacks were made continually by night and day.

And now, says Herodotus, I will mention a very strange thing, that

was of great service to the Persians against these assaults. Scythia

produces neither ass nor mule, neither are there any such throughout

the country, by reason of the cold. The noise of the asses therefore

disordered the Scythian cavalry, and very often in a charge, when the

horses heard them bray, they would start and fly aside in terror,

pricking up their ears, for that they had never seen the like, nor

heard such a sound. At length, when the country was exhausted, and it

was known that Darius was in want, the Scythian princes sent a herald,

bearing a present of a mouse, a bird, a frog, and five arrows. The

Persians asked what was the meaning of this offering; but he replied,

that his orders were merely to deliver it and depart immediately; and

bade them, if they were skilled in such things, discover what these

gifts should signify. Now Darius thought that the Scythians surrendered

to him themselves, their land, and waters, arguing thus: that a mouse

dwells in the earth, living on the same food as man, and a frog in the

water, and that a bird is likest to a horse, and the arrows meant that

they delivered up to him their power. But Gobryas conjectured that it

meant this: “Unless, O Persians, you should become birds and soar into

the skies, or mice and sink beneath the earth, or frogs and leap into

the water, never shall ye return home, being stricken by these arrows.”

Now that division of Scythians which had been sent to confer with the

Ionians, when they arrived at the bridge, said, “Ye men of Ionia, we

bring you liberty, if you will hearken to us. For we hear that Darius

bade you depart home, after you had watched the bridge sixty days, if

he should not return within that time: now therefore by so doing you

will be free from blame, both towards him and towards us.” And when the

Ionians had promised to do so, the Scythians returned in all haste.

Idanthyrsus, after sending the above alarming intimation, changed

his tactics, and offered battle to Darius. It chanced that while the

hostile armies were drawn up, waiting for the signal to engage, a

hare jumped up from among the Scythians, who broke their ranks and

joined unanimously in the chase. Darius inquired from what cause such

a tumult arose, and hearing that the enemy were engaged in hunting

the hare, he said to his confidential advisers, “These men hold us in

great contempt; and now methinks Gobryas has spoken rightly concerning

the Scythian presents. Since, therefore, things are so, we need good

advice, how may we retreat in safety.” Gobryas made answer, “O king,

I was pretty well acquainted by report with the poverty of these men,

and now I am the more convinced of it, seeing how they make sport of

us. Therefore it seems best to me, to light our fires as usual, so

soon as the night comes on, and then shackling the asses, and leaving

them behind, with such as are least able to bear fatigue, to depart

before the Scythians can reach the Danube to destroy the bridge, and

before such a plan, which might be our ruin, can be resolved upon by

the Ionians.” This advice gave Gobryas: and when it was night, Darius

left in the camp all those who were wearied, and of whose death least

account was made, together with the asses, under pretence that he

would himself attack the enemy with the flower of the army, and that

the others should remain to protect the camp. So the Scythians seeing

the fires, and hearing the asses as usual, suspected nothing: but the

next morning, when the deserted Persians came and made submission, they

set out with all speed, and arrived at the Danube before Darius, who

had wandered from the direct way. Then they said, “Ye men of Ionia, ye

act unjustly in staying here after the days that were numbered have

passed away. Hitherto you have remained through fear; but now, destroy

the bridge, and depart with all haste, rejoicing in your freedom, and

acknowledging your obligation to the gods and the Scythians. And him

that was heretofore your master we will so handle, that from henceforth

he shall wage war upon no man.” Therefore the Ionians took counsel; and

Miltiades the Athenian (the same who afterwards commanded at Marathon)

that was their leader, and ruler over the Thracian Chersonese, was

minded to take the counsel of the Scythians, and thus set free Ionia.

But Histiæus, of Miletus, said, on the contrary, that now each of

them that were in council was ruler over his own city through the

influence of Darius, which being destroyed, neither he himself nor any

of them would retain his sovereignty, for every city would choose the

government of the many rather than of one. Those, therefore, that had

adopted Miltiades’ opinion, now came over to that of Histiæus, and

it was resolved to break up the Scythian end of the bridge for the

distance of a bowshot, that they might appear to comply with what had

been requested, and thus be secured from all attempts to destroy it.

Histiæus therefore replied, “O Scythians, you bring good advice, and

urge it at a seasonable moment, and as your proposition guides us to

our advantage, even so we are inclined to follow it carefully. For, as

you see, we are breaking up the bridge, and we will manifest all zeal,

desiring to be free. But while we are thus employed, it is fit time for

you to go in search of the Persians, and to exact the vengeance that

is due both to us and to you.” So the Scythians, a second time giving

credit to the Ionians for speaking the truth, returned in quest of the

Persians, but missed their track; so that the latter arrived at the

passage without interruption, but coming there by night, and finding

the bridge broken, they were thrown into much alarm lest the Ionians

should have deserted them. There was in Darius’s train an Egyptian,

whose voice was louder than that of any known man. Darius bade him

stand on the bank, and call Histiæus the Milesian, who heard him at

the first shout, and reconstructed the bridge, so that the army passed

over in safety. And the Scythians, judging of the Ionians from these

transactions, say, on the one hand, that they are the basest and most

unworthy of all freemen; and on the other, reckoning them as slaves,

that of all such they best love their masters, and are least disposed

to run away.[191]

If Darius’s real object was to extend his empire, or take revenge

upon the Scythians, his failure was complete and humiliating; if

undertaken on the ground suggested by Atossa as a measure of policy, a

safety–valve to guard against the explosion of Persian turbulence, his

purpose probably was fully answered in the loss and suffering which the

army underwent. But whatever were his motives, he escaped more easily

and creditably than most generals who have presumed to contest the

possession of their deserts with the numerous and active cavalry of

Tartary and Persia. Troops of the highest character, irresistible where

their proper arms and discipline can be made available, have often sunk

under the fatigue and hardships of warfare against a new enemy, under

a new sky, and have been conquered by circumstances, almost without

the use of the sword. By varying the climate and natural features of

the earth—by giving man a frame which, notwithstanding the wonderful

flexibility which adapts it equally for the snows of Greenland and the

vertical splendour of the torrid zone, is ill calculated for violent

and sudden changes, Providence has set bounds in some degree to the

march of ambition, and often turned the triumph of the conqueror into

mourning. We shall devote the rest of this chapter to relating a few

of the most striking disasters which have occurred from the neglect

of these considerations, and the rash invasion of regions where the

elements, the face of the country, or the manners of its inhabitants

have presented invincible obstacles to the success of the attacking

army.

The unfortunate expedition of Crassus against the Parthians furnishes

us with a second testimony to the valour of the Scythian hordes.

Expelled or emigrating from Scythia Proper, that tribe long dwelt to

the eastward of the Caspian Sea, and successively obeyed the Mede,

the Persian, and the Macedonian dynasties, until at length they shook

off the yoke of the last, and planted a new race upon the throne of

Cyrus. The motives of avarice and ambition which led Crassus to the

fatal enterprise in which he fell, are well known. From the first

he was marked out for destruction by superstitious terrors: as he

quitted Rome he was solemnly devoted by a tribune to the infernal

gods; ill–omened prodigies attended the passage of the Euphrates,

and even the exhortations of the general were so equivocally worded,

that, instead of raising, they damped the courage of his soldiers.

Instead of penetrating through the friendly country of Armenia, where

the mountains would have protected him from the enemy’s cavalry, and

the king had promised not only a large reinforcement, but to provide

food for the consumption of the Romans, Crassus was induced, by

the treachery of a pretended friend, to plunge into the deserts of

Mesopotamia, the region of all others best adapted to the operations

of his enemies. We shall not detain the reader with the particulars of

his advance, which for some time was unopposed; but when he was fairly

involved in that inhospitable region, the enemy was not long in making

his appearance.

“The enemies seemed not to the Romans at the first to be so great a

number, neither so bravely armed as they thought they had been. For

concerning their great number, Surenas[192] had of purpose hid them

with certain troops he sent before; and to hide their bright armour

he had cast cloaks and beasts’ skins over them; but when both the

armies approached near the one to the other, and that the sign to give

charge was lift up in the air, first they filled the field with a

dreadful noise to hear; for the Parthians do not encourage their men to

fight with the sound of a horn, neither with trumpets, but with great

kettle–drums, hollow within, and about them they hang little bells and

copper rings, and with them they all make a noise everywhere together;

and it is like a dead sound mingled as it were with the braying or

bellowing of a wild beast, and a fearful noise as if it thundered,

knowing that hearing is one of the senses that soonest moveth the heart

and spirit of any man, and maketh him soonest beside himself. The

Romans being put in fear with this dead sound, the Parthians straight

threw the clothes and coverings from them that hid their armour, and

then showed their bright helmets and cuirasses of Margian tempered

steel, that glared like fire, and their horses barbed with steel and

copper. And Surenas also, general of the Parthians, who was a goodly

personage and valiant as any other in all his host, though for his

beauty somewhat effeminate, showed small likelihood of such courage:

for he painted his face and wore his hair after the fashion of the

Medes, when the other Parthians drew their hair back from the forehead

in the Scythian manner to look more terrible. The Parthians at the

first thought to have set upon the Romans with their pikes, to see if

they could break their first ranks. But when they drew near, and saw

the depth of their battell standing close together, firmly keeping

their ranks, then they gave back, making as though they fled, and

dispersed themselves; and yet, before they were aware, environed them

on every side; whereupon Crassus commanded his shot and light–armed

men to assail them; the which they did: but they went not far, they

were so beaten in by arrows, and driven to retire to their force of

the armed men. And this was the first beginning that both feared and

troubled the Romans when they saw the vehemency and great force of the

enemy’s shot, which brake their armours, and ran through everything it

hit, were it never so hard or soft. The Parthians, thus still drawing

back, shot altogether on every side at adventure: for the battell of

the Romans stood so neare together, as, if they would, they could not

miss the killing of some. These bowmen drew a great strength, and had

much bent bowes, which sent the arrows from them with a wonderful

force.[193] The Romans by means of these bowes were in hard state, for

if they kept their ranks they were grievously wounded: again, if they

left them, and sought to run upon the Parthians to fight at hand with

them, they suffered none the less, and were no nearer to effecting

anything. For the Parthians, in retreating, yet cease not from their

shot, which no nation but the Scythians could better do than they. And

it is an excellent contrivance that they do fight in their flight, and

thereby shun the shame of flying. The Romans still defended themselves,

and held it out so long as they had any hope that the Parthians would

leave fighting when they had spent their arrowes, or would joyne battel

with them. But after they understood that there were a great number of

camels laden with quivers full of arrowes, where the first that had

bestowed their arrowes fetched about to take new quivers; then Crassus,

seeing no end to their shot, began to faint, and sent to Publius his

son, willing him to charge upon the enemies before they were compassed

in on every side. For it was on Publius’ side that one of the wings

of the enemies battell was nearest unto them, and where they rode up

and down to compasse them behind. Whereupon Crassus’ sonne, taking

thirteene hundred horsemen with him (of the which a thousand were of

the men of armes whom Julius Cæsar sent) and five hundred shot, with

eight ensignes of footmen having targets, wheeling about, led them unto

the charge. But they seeing him coming, turned straight their horses

and fled, either because of the steadiness of his array, or else of

purpose to beguile this young Crassus, inticing him thereby as far from

his father as they could. Publius Crassus seeing them flie, cryed out,

‘These men will not abide with us;’ and so spurred on for life after

them. Now the horsemen of the Romans being trained out thus to the

chase, the footmen also were not inferior in hope, joy, or courage.

For they thought all had been won, and that there was no more to do

but to follow the chase: till they were gone far from the army, and

then they found the deceit. For the horsemen that fled before them

suddenly turned again, and a number of others besides came, and set

upon them. Whereupon they stayed, thinking that the enemies, perceiving

they were so few, would come and fight with them hand to hand. Howbeit

the Parthians drew up again them their men at armes, and made their

other horsemen wheele round about them, keeping no order at all: who

gallopping up and down the plain, whirled up the sand–hills from the

bottom with their horses’ feet, which raised such a wonderful dust,

that the Romans could scarce see or speak to one another. For they

being shut up into a little roome, and standing close one to another,

were sore wounded with the Parthian arrowes, and died of a cruell

lingering death, crying out for anguish and paine they felt; and being

still harassed by the shot thereof, they died of their wounds, or

striving by force to pluck out the forked arrow–heads that had pierced

farre into their bodies through their veines and sinewes, thereby

they opened their wounds wider, and so injured themselves the more.

Many of them died thus, and such as died not were not able to defend

themselves. Then when Publius Crassus prayed and besought them to

charge the men at armes with the barded horse, they shewed him theirs

hands fast nailed to the targets with arrowes, and their feet likewise

shot through and nailed to the ground; so as they could neither flie,

nor yet defend themselves. Thereupon himself encouraging his horsemen,

went and gave charge, and did valiantly set upon the enemies, but

it was with too great disadvantages, both for offence and also for

defence. For himself and his men, with weak and light staves, brake

upon them that were armed with cuirasses of steele, or stiff leather

jackes. And the Parthians, in contrary manner, with mighty strong pikes

gave charge upon these Gaules, which were either unarmed, or else but

lightly armed. Yet those were they in whom Crassus most trusted, and

with them did he wonderfull feates of war. For they seized hold of

the Parthians’ pikes and took them about the middles and threw them

off their horse, being scarce able to stir for the weight of their

harnesse;[194] and there were divers of them also that lighting from

their horse crept under their enemies’ horse bellies, and thrust their

swords into them, which flinging and bounding in the aire for very

paine, trampled confusedly both upon their masters and their enemies,

and in the end fell dead among them. Moreover extream heat and thirst

did marvellously comber the Gauls, who were used to abide neither of

both: and the most part of their horses were slain, charging with all

their power upon the Parthian pikes.

“At the length, they were driven to retire towards their footmen, and

Publius Crassus among them, who was very ill by reason of the wounds

he had received. And seeing a sand–hill by chance not farre from

them, they went thither, and setting their horses in the middest of

it, compassed it in round with their targets, thinking by this means

to cover and defend themselves the better from the barbarous people:

howbeit, they found it contrary. For the country being plain, they

in the foremost ranks did somewhat cover them behind, but they that

were behind standing higher than they that stood foremost (by reason

of the nature of the hill that was highest in the middest) could by

no means save themselves, but were all hurt alike, as well the one

as the other, bewailing their inglorious and unavailing end. At that

present time there were two Grecians about Publius Crassus, Hieronymus

and Nicomachus, who dwelt in those quarters, in the city of Carrhæ:

they both counselled Publius Crassus to steale away with them, and

flie to a city called Ischnæ, that was not farre from thence, and took

the Romans’ part. But Publius answered them, that there was no death

so cruel as could make him forsake those that died for his sake.[195]

When he had so said, wishing them to save themselves, he embraced

them, and took his leave of them: and being very sore hurt with the

shot of an arrow through one of his hands, commanded his shield–bearer

to thrust him through with a sword, and so turned his side to him for

the purpose. And most part of the gentlemen that were of that company,

slew themselves with their own hands. And for those that were left

alive, the Parthians got up the sandhill, and fighting with them thrust

them through with their speares and pikes, and took but five hundred

prisoners. After that, they struck off Publius Crassus’ head, and

thereupon returned straight to set upon his father, Crassus, who was

then in this state.

“Crassus, the father, after he had willed his son to charge the

enemies, and that one brought him word he had broken them, and pursued

the chase; and perceiving also that they that remained in their great

battell, did not presse upon him so neare as they did before, because

that a great number of them were gone after the other; he then took

courage, and keeping his men close, retired with them the best he

could by a hill’s side, looking ever that his sonne would not be long

before that he returned from the chase. But Publius seeing himselfe in

danger, had sent divers messengers to his father, to advertise him of

his distresse, whom the Parthians intercepted, and slew by the way;

and the last messengers he sent escaping very hardly, brought Crassus

newes that his sonne was but cast away, if he did not presently aid

him, and that with a great power. But in the meane time the enemies

were returned from his son’s overthrow with a more dreadfull noise, and

cry of victory than ever before, and thereupon their deadly sounding

drummes filled the air with their wonderful noise. The Romans then

looked straight for a hot alarme; but the Parthians that brought

Publius Crassus’ head upon the point of a lance, coming neere to the

Romans, showed them his head, and asked them, in derision, if they knew

what house he was of, and who were his parents: for it is not likely,

said they, that so noble and valiant a young man should be the son of

so cowardly a father as Crassus. This sight killed the Roman hearts

more than any other danger throughout all the battell. For it did not

set their hearts on fire, as it should have done, with anger and desire

of revenge, but far otherwise, made them quake for fear. Yet Crassus

selfe shewed more glorious in this misfortune than in all the warre

beside. For riding by every band, he cried out aloud, ‘The grief and

sorrowe of this losse, my fellowes, is no man’s but mine, mine onely:

but the mighty fortune and honour of Rome remaineth still unvincible,

so long as you are yet living. Now, if you pity my losse of so noble

and valiant a son, my good soldiers, shew this in fury against the

enemy; make them dearly buy the joy they have gotten; be revenged of

their cruelty, and let not my misfortune fear you. For why! aspiring

minds sometime must needs sustaine losse.’

“Crassus, using these persuasions to encourage his soldiers for

resolution, found that all his words wrought none effect; but

contrarily, after he had commanded them to give the shout of battell,

he plainly saw that their heartes were done, for that their shout

rose but faint, and not all alike. The Parthians on the other side,

their shout was greate, and lustily they rang it out. Now when they

came to joyne, the Parthians’ horsemen wheeling all round the Romans,

still galled them with their archery, while their men at armes,

giving charge upon the front of the Romans’ battell, with their great

lances compelled them to draw into a narrow roome, a few excepted

that valiantly and in desperate manner ran in among them, as men

desiring, though they could do the enemy but little harm, rather to

die quickly by a mortal wound. So were they soone dispatcht, with the

great lances that ranne them through, head, wood and all, with such a

force as oftentimes they ranne through two at once. Thus when they had

fought the whole day, night drew on, and made them retire, saying that

they would give Crassus that night’s respite, to lament and bewaile

his sonne’s death: unlesse that otherwise he, wisely looking about

him, thought it better for his safety to come and offer himself to

King Arsaces’ mercy, than to tarry to be brought to him by force. So

the Parthians camping hard by the Romans, were in very good hope to

overthrow them the next morning.”

In this miserable condition the only hope of safety lay in the

immediate prosecution of their retreat under cover of the night; and

this measure was accompanied by the melancholy necessity of abandoning

their wounded men to the mercy of an implacable enemy. Crassus,

overcome with sorrow, laid himself down with his head covered, and

would see no man. His chief officers, therefore, among whom was

Cassius, afterwards celebrated as one of the murderers of Cæsar,

held a council of war, and resolved upon immediate departure; a step

which held out the greater prospect of security, as the Parthians

never attacked by night, nor indeed took up their quarters in near

neighbourhood even to the weakest enemy, for they used no sort of

fortification or defence, and if attacked in the dark their cavalry

was difficult to be equipped and their skill in archery useless.[196]

Those of the Romans who were capable of marching, retreated without

further loss to the town of Carrhæ; but the Parthians slew all that

were left, to the number of 4000 and upwards. Surena, lest the

fugitives should outstrip him by immediate flight, had recourse to

a fraudulent negotiation, which was insultingly broken off as soon

as his end was answered, and his troops collected before the city.

Escape, therefore, was now more difficult than ever, and Crassus’ evil

fortune, or want of penetration, led him again to place confidence in

a traitor, who informed the enemy of the period fixed for departure,

and completed his villainy by entangling the army in a morass. Cassius,

mistrusting this man, returned to Carrhæ. His guides advised him to

remain there until the moon were out of the sign of Scorpio; but he

answered, “I fear the sign of Sagittarius (_the archer_) more,” and,

departing immediately, escaped to Assyria with 500 horsemen. Crassus,

and the main body of the army, after long struggling, had overcome

the difficulties in which they were involved, and were within a few

furlongs of the hills, when they were overtaken and attacked by the

Parthians.

“Then compassing Crassus in the middest of them, covering him round

with their targets, they spake nobly, that never an arrow of the

Parthians should touch the body of their general, before they were

slain, one after another, and that they had fought it out to the last

man in his defence. Hereupon Surena, perceiving the Parthians were not

so courageous as they were wont to be, and that if night came upon

them, and that the Romans did once recover the high mountains, they

could never possibly be met withall againe: he thought cunningly to

beguile Crassus once more by this device. He let certain prisoners go

of purpose, before whom he made his men give out this speech, that the

King of Parthia would have no more mortal war with the Romans; but

far otherwise; he rather desired their friendship, by shewing them

some notable favour, as to use Crassus very courteously. And to give

colour to this bruit, he called his men from fight, and going himself

in person towards Crassus with the chiefest of the nobility of his

boast, in quiet manner, his bow unbent, he held out his right hand, and

called Crassus to talk with him of peace, and said unto him, ‘Though

the Romans had felt the force and power of their king, it was against

his will; howbeit that now he was very willing and desirous to make

them taste of his mercy, and was contented to make peace with them, and

to let them go where they would.’ All the Romans besides Crassus, were

glad of Surena’s words. But Crassus, that had been deceived before by

their crafty fetches and devices; considering also no cause apparent

to make them change thus suddenly, would not hearken to it, but first

consulted with his friends. Howbeit the soldiers, they cried out on him

to go, and fell at words with him, saying that he would fain set them

to fight with an enemy, with whom he had not the heart to talk unarmed.

Crassus tried entreaty first, saying that if they would but persevere

for the remainder of the day, they might depart at night through the

mountaines and straight passages, where their enemies would not follow

them: and pointing them the way with his finger, he prayed them not to

be faint–hearted, nor to despair of their safety, seeing they were so

neare it. But in the end, Crassus perceiving that they fell to mutiny,

and, beating of their harnesse, did threaten him if he went not,

fearing there they would do him some villainy, went towards the enemy,

and coming backe a little, said only these words: ‘O Octavius, and

you, Petronius, with all you Roman gentlemen that have charge in this

army, you all see now how I against my will am enforced to go to the

place I would not, and can witnesse with me how I am driven with shame

and force; yet I pray you, if your fortunes be to escape this danger,

that ye will report wheresoever you come, that Crassus was slaine,

not delivered up by his own soldiers into the hands of the barbarous

people, but deceived by the fraud and subtilty of his enemies.’

“Octavius would not tarry behind on the hill, but went down with

Crassus: but Crassus sent away his sergeants that followed him. The

first that came from the Parthians unto Crassus were two mongrell

Grecians, who, dismounting from their horse, saluted him, and prayed

him to send some of his men before, and Surena would shew them, that

both himself and his train came unarmed towards him. Crassus thereto

made him answer, that if he had made any account of his life, he would

not have put himself into their hands. Notwithstanding he sent two

brethren before, called the Roscii, to know what number of men, and to

what end they met so many together. These two brethren came no sooner

to Surena but they were staid, and himselfe in the mean time kept on

his way a horsebacke, with the noblest men of his army. Now when Surena

came neare to Crassus, ‘Why, how now,’ quoth he, ‘what meaneth this? a

consul and lieutenant–generall of Rome on foot, and we on horseback!’

Therewithal he straight commanded one of his men to bring him a horse.

Crassus answered Surena again: ‘In that neither of them offended,

each coming to the meeting according to the custom of his country.’

Surena replied, ‘As for the treaty of peace, that was already agreed

upon between the king Hyrodes and the Romans: howbeit that they were

to go to the river and there to set down the articles in writing; for

you Romans,’ said he, ‘do not greatly remember the capitulations you

have agreed upon.’ With those words, he gave him his right hand. As

Crassus was sending for a horse; ‘You shall not need, saith Surena,

for, look, the king doth present you with this.’ And straight one

was brought him, with a golden bridle; upon which his grooms mounted

Crassus immediately, and following him behind, lashed his horse to make

him run the swifter. Octavius, seeing that, first laid hand on the

bridle, then Petronius; and after them, all the rest of the Romans also

gathered about Crassus to stay the horse, and to take him from them

by force, that pressed him on of either side. So they thrust one at

another at the first very angrily, and at the last fell to blowes. Then

Octavius drew out his sword, and slew one of the barbarous noblemen’s

horsekeepers; and another came behind him, and slew Octavius, and

on the other side came Pomaxæthres, one of the Parthians, and slew

Crassus. As for them that were there, some of them were slain in the

field fighting for Crassus, and others saved themselves by flying to

the hill. The Parthians followed them, and told them that Crassus had

paid the paine he deserved, and for the rest, that Surena bad them

come down with safety. Then some of them yielded to their enemies;

and others dispersed themselves when night came, and of them very few

escaped with life. Others being followed and pursued by the natives,

were all put to the sword. So as it is thought there were slain in

this overthrow above twenty thousand men, and ten thousand taken

prisoners.”[197]

Not many years subsequent to this signal overthrow the Roman eagle

again swooped upon Assyria, and was again compelled to wing back its

disastrous flight to a more congenial soil and climate. Encouraged

by the Syrian victories of his lieutenant Ventidius (the only Roman

down to the time of Trajan who ever celebrated a triumph over the

Parthians), and desirous to efface the stain upon the empire’s honour

by extorting the restoration of the captured standards and prisoners,

Antony led into Media an army of 100,000 men. But his enterprise, like

those of his predecessors, proved barren alike of profit or renown: for

if he could boast that the enemy, far from gaining any advantage over

his veteran troops, were uniformly baffled and repulsed during a long

and dangerous retreat, yet that retreat proved as calamitous as the

advance had been useless; and the hardships of the desert were scarce

less fatal to him than the Parthian arrows to Crassus.

“When they came to go down any steep hills, the Parthians would set

upon them with their arrowes, because they could go down but fair and

softly. But then again, the soldiers of the legion, that carried great

shields, returned back and enclosed the light–armed in the middest

amongst them, and did kneel one knee upon the ground, and so set downe

their shields before them; and they of the second rank also covered

them of the first rank, and the third also covered the second; and

so from ranke to ranke all were covered. Insomuch that this manner

of covering and shading themselves with shields was devised after

the fashion of laying tiles upon houses, and to sight was like the

steps of a theatre, and is a most strong defence and bulwarke against

all arrowes and shot that falleth on it. When the Parthians saw this

countenance of the Roman soldiers of the legion which kneeled on the

ground in that sort upon one knee, supposing that they had beene

wearied with travel, they laid down their bowes, and took their spears

and launces, and came to fight with them man for man. Then the Romans

suddenly rose upon their feete, and with the darts that they threw

from them they slew the foremost, and put the rest to flight, and so

did they the next day that followed. But by means of these dangers and

letts, Antonius’ army could win no way in a day, by reason whereof they

sufferred great famine: for they could have but little corne, and yet

were they daily driven to fight for it; and besides that, they had no

instruments to grind it, to make bread of it. For the most part of them

had been left behind, because the beasts that carried them were either

dead or else employed to carry them that were sore and wounded. For

the famine was so extream great, that the eighth part of a bushell of

wheate was sold for fifty drachmas,[198] and they sold barley bread by

the weight of silver. In the end they were compelled to live on herbes

and roots; but they found few of them that men do commonly eat of, and

were enforced to taste of them that were never eaten before: among

the which there was one that killed them, and made them out of their

wits. For he that had once eaten of it, his memory went from him, and

he knew not what he did, but only busied himself in moving and turning

over every stone that he found, as though it had been a matter of great

weight. All the campe over, men were busily stooping to the ground,

digging and carrying off stones from one place to another; but at the

last, they cast up a great deal of bile, and suddenly died, because

they lacked wine, which was the only sovereigne remedy to cure that

disease.”[199]

Such were their suffering till they crossed the Araxes and gained the

rich and friendly country of Armenia. The retreat from Phraata, or

Phraaspa, the extreme point of advance, a distance of three hundred

miles, had occupied twenty–seven days, and been signalized by eighteen

battles. On mustering the army it was found that twenty thousand

infantry and four thousand horse, nearly a quarter of the whole force,

had perished by the joint effects of sickness and the sword.

After a long series of wars waged with various success during a

period of four hundred years, the plains of Assyria again beheld the

destruction of a Roman army under circumstances of still greater

interest. The emperor Julian, redoubted for his brilliant victories in

Gaul and Germany, advanced with a veteran army of sixty–five thousand

soldiers, to avenge the insulted majesty of the empire, and retaliate

upon the Persian monarch (for a Persian dynasty again occupied the

throne of Darius, long held by a Grecian, and then by a Parthian

conqueror) for the invasion of Mesopotamia, in the reign of his

predecessor Constantius. He directed his march towards Ctesiphon,[200]

where he crossed the Tigris, and advanced into the central provinces,

in hope, like Alexander at Arbela, to rest the issue of the war on the

event of a single battle. Up to this point success attended his arms;

but now the evils which had destroyed his predecessors began to work

their fatal effect on him; where–ever he turned the country was laid

waste, the treachery of his guides caused him to spend several days

in fruitless wandering, which diminished the already scanty stores of

the army, and at length, without a blow being struck, he found himself

compelled to give the signal for retreat.

“The very morning, however, upon which the army began to retrace its

steps, a cloud of dust appeared in the distant horizon. Many thought

that it was caused by the troops of wild asses which abound in those

regions; others more justly augured from it an enemy’s approach. Being

thus uncertain and fearful lest by advancing they should fall into some

snare, the emperor put an early stop to their march, and the night was

spent in watchfulness and continual alarm. At sunrise, the glitter of

distant armour announced the presence of the royal forces, and the day

was spent in a succession of desultory and unsuccessful attacks. In the

evening the Romans arrived at a small town abounding in provisions,

where they spent two days. Resuming their march, upon the first day

they were exposed only to the same interruptions as before, but upon

the third day, when the army had reached the district called Maranga,

about dawn there appeared a vast multitude of Persians, with Merenes,

general of the cavalry, two sons of the king, and many of the chief

nobility.

“All the troops were armed in iron, every limb being protected by thick

plates, the rigid joinings of which were adapted to the joints of the

body; and a mask, fashioned to resemble the face, was so carefully

fitted upon their heads, that, their whole bodies being plated with

metal, the darts which struck them could pierce nowhere, except at the

eyes or nostrils, before which there were narrow apertures for sight

and breathing. Those who were armed with lances remained immoveable,

as if fixed with brazen chains: while near them the archers (from its

very cradle the nation has grown powerful by its great reliance on

that art) stretched their supple bows, with disparted arms, till the

string touched their right breasts, while their left hands were in

contact with the arrow head; and the shafts, thus skilfully driven,

flew shrilly whistling, charged with deadly wounds. After them the

affrighted mind could hardly bear the fearful aspect and savage yawns

of the glittering elephants; by whose roar and smell, and unusual

appearance, the horses were yet more terrified. Those who guided them

wore hafted knives tied to their right hands, remembering the injury

received from these animals at Nisibis;[201] that if the frantic animal

became unmanageable by his driver, to prevent his carrying destruction

into the ranks of his own army, as then happened, they might pierce the

spine, where the skull is connected with the neck. For it was long ago

discovered by Hasdrubal, the brother of Hannibal, that such was the

speediest way of killing these beasts. All this being observed, not

without much dread, the emperor proceeded with all confidence to draw

up the infantry for battle in a half–moon with curving flanks;[202]

and lest the advance of the archers should scatter our close array,

he broke the efficacy of their arrow–flight by a rapid onset; and the

word to engage being as usual given, the dense infantry of Rome dashed

in the firm front of the enemy by a most spirited charge. The conflict

growing hot, the clang of shields, and the melancholy crash of men and

armour, leaving now no room for inactivity, covered the ground with

gore and corpses; but the slaughter of the Persians was the greatest,

who being often slack and faint in close conflict, fought at heavy

disadvantage when foot was opposed to foot; though they use to battle

bravely at a distance, and if they find themselves compelled to give

way, deter the enemy from pursuit by a shower of arrows shot behind

them. The Parthians then being routed by their overpowering strength,

our soldiery, long since relaxed by a blazing sun, at the signal of

recall went back to their tents, inspirited to higher daring for the

future. In this battle the Persian loss appeared, as I have said, to be

the greater; our own was very light.” Milton has a gorgeous description

of the Parthian power and method of making war, in which his immense

learning is profusely introduced to illustrate this subject

“The Parthian king

In Ctesiphon[203] hath gathered all his host

Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild

Have wasted Sogdiana; to her aid

He marches now in haste: see though from far

His thousands, in what martial equipage

They issue forth; steel bows and shafts their arm

Of equal dread in flight, or in pursuit;

All horsemen, in which fight they most excel;

See how in warlike muster they appear,

In rhombs and wedges, and half–moons and wings.

“He looked, and saw what numbers numberless

The city gates out–poured, light–armed troops

In coats of mail and military pride;

In mail their horses clad, yet fleet and strong,

Prancing their riders bore, the flower and choice

Of many provinces from bound to bound

From Arachosia,[204] from Candaor east,

And Margiana to the Hyrcanian cliffs

Of Caucasus, and dark Iberian dales,

From Atropatia, and the neighbouring plains

Of Adiabene, Media, and the south

Of Susiana, to Balsara’s haven.

He saw them in their forms of battle ranged,

How quick they wheeled, and flying, behind them shot

Sharp sleet of arrowy showers against the face

Of their pursuers, and overcame by flight;

The fields, all iron, cast a gleaming brown:

Nor wanted clouds of foot, nor on each horn

Cuirassiers all in steel for standing fight,

Chariots or elephants indorsed with towers

Of archers, nor of labouring pioneers

A multitude, with spades and axes armed

To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill

Or where plain was raise hill, or overlay

With bridges rivers proud, as with a yoke;

Mules after these, camels, and dromedaries,

And waggons fraught with utensils of war.

Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp

When Agrican with all his northern powers

Besieged Albracca, as romances tell,

The city of Gallaphrone, from thence to win

The fairest of her sex, Angelica

His daughter, sought by many prowest knights

Both Paynim and the peers of Charlemain.

Such and so numerous was their chivalry.”[205]

“After the battle,” Ammianus continues, “three days being passed

in repose, that each might cure his own or his neighbour’s wounds,

intolerable want of victuals began to afflict us; and the burning both

of corn and green crops having reduced men and horses to the extremity

of distress, a large part of the provisions brought by the chief

officers of the army for their own use was distributed to the indigent

soldiery. And the emperor, who, in place of delicacies prepared with

regal luxury, satisfied his hunger under a small tent, with a scanty

portion of meal and water, which even the labouring common soldier

would have disdained; careless of his own safety, performed whatever

services were required in the tents of his poor comrades. Then having

withdrawn awhile to an anxious and uncertain repose, devoted not to

sleep, but to some literary work, written in the camp, and under the

tent–skins, in emulation of Julius Caesar, in the dead of night, while

deeply meditating upon some philosopher, he beheld, as he acknowledged

to his friends, that vision of the genius of the empire which he had

seen in Gaul, when about to reach the dignity of Augustus,[206] pass

sorrowfully from the tent in mourning habit, his head and horn of

abundance covered with a veil. For a moment he was fixed in amazement;

yet, superior to all fear, he commended futurity to the gods. As he

rose from his lowly couch, to supplicate the powers of heaven with the

rites deprecatory of misfortune, a blazing torch appeared to flash

across the sky, and vanished, leaving him filled with horror lest it

were the star of Mars which thus openly menaced him.”[207]

Before daybreak he consulted the Etruscan soothsayers, who still

retained the monopoly of this profitable art, concerning the meaning

of this portent. They replied that on no account should anything be

commenced, in obedience to the rules of their science, which forbade

the giving battle, or undertaking military operations, subsequent

to the appearance of such a meteor: but the emperor neglected their

predictions, and gave order to march. Taught by experience not rashly

to close with the firm ranks of the legions, the Persians hovered all

around, and while Julian, unarmed by reason of the heat, advanced to

reconnoitre in front, he was alarmed by tidings of an attack upon the

rear. Forgetful or careless of his want of armour, he hurried to the

spot, which was scarcely reached when a fresh alarm came that the

van, which he had quitted, was similarly menaced, and at the same

moment the iron–clothed Parthian cavalry, supported by elephants,

dashed in upon the flank. The light–armed troops, encouraged by

their sovereign’s presence, rushed forwards, and put to flight these

formidable assailants; and while Julian, forgetting the prudence of

a general in his ardour, cheered them on, a dart grazed his uplifted

arm, and penetrated deep into his unprotected side. He tried to draw it

out, but the sharp edges cut the tendons of his fingers; and falling

in a swoon from his horse, he was borne back by his attendants to the

camp. The prince being withdrawn, it is scarce credible with what

ardour the soldiery, heated by rage and anger, flew to their revenge,

and though the dust blinded them, and the heat relaxed their sinews,

yet, as if released from discipline by the fall of their leader, they

rushed prodigal of life upon the enemies’ steel. The Persians, on the

other hand, shot still more eagerly, till they were almost hidden by

the constant arrow flight; while the bulk and nodding plumes of the

elephants stationed in their front struck terror into horse and man.

Night put an end to a bloody and indecisive contest, in which fifty of

the chief Persian nobility fell, including the two generals, Merenes

and Nohodares.

This success, however, was dearly purchased by the death of Julian,

which occurred soon after he reached the camp. He made a short address

to those officers who surrounded his bed, expressing his willingness to

die, and a hope that the empire would devolve on a worthy successor,

declining to interfere, or in any way direct their choice; and breathed

his last while arguing upon the nature of the soul. Among the tumult

and intrigues consequent upon the election of a new emperor, Jovian, a

household officer of the highest rank, was chosen, rather as a means

of reconciling the disputes of others of higher pretensions, than for

his personal merits, which rose not above mediocrity. The news of

Julian’s death was carried to Sapor the Persian king by deserters, and

he, inspirited by the death of his most formidable enemy, pursued the

retreating army with increased vigour. On one occasion the heavy–armed

horse and elephants broke the Jovian and Herculean legions which had

been trained to war in the able school of Diocletian; on another the

Persian cavalry broke into the camp, and penetrated almost to the

emperor’s tent. At length, after five days of constant harass and

alarm, they reached the town of Dura on the Tigris. Four days were here

consumed in repelling the unceasing attacks of the Persians, until

the army, impatient of this daily annoyance, hopeless of bringing the

enemy to battle, and stimulated by a notion that the Roman frontier was

at no great distance, impatiently demanded permission to recross the

Tigris. The emperor and his officers in vain pointed out to them the

river swollen by the summer floods, and entreated them not to trust

its dangerous whirlpools: they represented that most of the troops

were unable to swim, and showed the enemy, who lined the opposite

bank of the overflowed river. But when these arguments proved vain,

and dissatisfaction seemed ready to end in mutiny, a reluctant order

was given that the Gauls and Germans, trained to the passage of rapid

rivers from their youth, should first risk the attempt; in expectation

that the others’ obstinacy would be overcome by the spectacle of

their fate, or else that their success would embolden and encourage

the less able. Accordingly, as soon as the fall of night concealed

their purpose, they passed the river, swimming or supported by skins,

occupied the opposite bank, and made slaughter of the Persians, who had

been lulled to sleep by the fancied security of their position. Their

comrades, informed of their success by signal, were only restrained

from emulating their courage and success by the engineers undertaking

to construct a bridge upon inflated hides. But these attempts were

baffled by the strength of the stream, and at the end of two days,

all sorts of food being consumed, the soldiery, reduced to want and

desperation, were loud in complaint of the ignoble death for which they

were reserved.

This would have been the time for a vigorous and decisive blow; but the

Persian king was staggered in his confidence by the Romans’ obstinate

and successful resistance. The destruction among his troops had been

severe; the loss of elephants unequalled in any former war: while

his foes were seasoned and encouraged by a continuance of successful

resistance, and, instead of being intimidated by the death of their

noble general, seemed rather to consult revenge than safety, careless

whether they were extricated from their difficulty by a brilliant

victory or a memorable death. These considerations, and the yet

unbroken power of the empire, induced him to send ambassadors to treat

of peace. But the conditions proposed were hard and humiliating,

and four days were spent amid the agonies of famine in fruitlessly

discussing what was best to be done, which if diligently employed would

have brought the army into the fruitful district of Corduene, distant

but a hundred and fifty miles from the scene of their sufferings. Five

provinces situated east of the Tigris were to be given up, together

with three important fortresses in Mesopotamia, Castra Maurorum,

Singara, and Nisibis, the latter uncaptured since the Mithridatic wars,

and regarded as the especial key of the East. The strong expression of

Ammianus is, that it would have been better to have fought ten battles,

than to have surrendered one of these things. But a crowd of flatterers

surrounded the timid prince; they urged the necessity of a speedy

return, lest other pretenders to the empire should start up, and his

weak and easy temper was readily persuaded to acquiesce.

The delay occasioned by these negotiations, in which, in return for

such important concessions, even the safe passage of the Tigris was

not provided for, proved fatal to numbers, who, impatient of the

sufferings which they endured, plunged secretly into the stream, and

were swallowed up by its eddies, or, if they reached the shore, were

slain or sold into a distant captivity by the Saracens and Persians.

And when at last the trumpet gave the signal of passage, it was

wonderful to see how every one hurried to escape the danger which they

still feared upon the eastern bank. Wicker vessels hastily constructed,

to which their beasts of burthen were attached, or the hides of sheep

and oxen, were the precarious means of transport to which most were

reduced: the emperor and his suite crossed in a few small boats which

had laboriously accompanied the march, and continued to ply backwards

and forwards, as long as any remained upon the farther shore. News came

meanwhile that the Persians were constructing a bridge, with intent of

falling suddenly and secretly upon the exhausted enemy; but either the

intelligence was false, or the betrayal of their intention caused the

Persians to desist from the meditated treachery, and Jovian, released

from this apprehension, arrived by long and fatiguing marches at the

town of Hatra, of ancient fame in the wars of Trajan and Severus. From

hence, for seventy miles, an arid plain extended, offering only salt,

fetid water, and the bitter, nauseous herbs of the desert: and such

provision as opportunity afforded was made for the further march by

filling the water vessels, and slaughtering camels and other beasts

of burthen. But a six days’ march, through a country where not even

grass was to be found, reduced them to extremity; and it was with no

small joy that they hailed a convoy of provisions, doubly welcome as

providing for the relief of present distress, and assuring the fidelity

of Procopius and Sebastian, the powerful officers whom Julian had sent

to co–operate with him in Armenia. Passing Thilsaphata the army at

length reached Nisibis, and found an end of its distresses under the

walls of the city, which the emperor was unwilling, perhaps ashamed, to

enter.

In all these cases the thirst of conquest worked its own punishment by

subjecting its votaries to the guidance of will instead of reason, and

like all other passions, when indulged, misleading them both as to the

character and the probable consequence of their actions. The expedition

of Darius is said, indeed, to have been prompted by policy; but we look

in vain for prudence and sound judgment in his unavailing pursuit of

the Scythians, in his protracted stay, in the treacherous abandonment

of a part of his army, or in his hurried retreat; while his resolution

(if Herodotus be credited) of destroying the bridge, and thus, in case

of reverses, cutting off all hope of escape, could only have been

suggested by a frantic presumption in his own power and fortune. In

the other cases an eager desire and hope of terminating the war by one

decisive blow, and a well–grounded confidence that in fair field no

troops would stand the shock of the Roman legions, stifled the voice of

common sense, of wisdom and of experience, which concurred in teaching

that the desired opportunity was attainable only by the enemy’s

misconduct, and that the failure of success necessarily involved severe

misfortune. We may draw from hence a lesson touching the pernicious

influence of power and prosperity upon the mind. The warning of Amasis

to Polycrates[208] contains valuable instruction, though we reject

the superstitious and unworthy notion of the Deity upon which it is

founded, and the equally superstitious remedy proposed. It is true

that a life of unbroken prosperity is frequently terminated by some

memorable reverse, but the effect of such prosperity upon ourselves

is the greatest of evils, and the parent of all the others which may

befall us: and this chapter may be considered as a supplement to the

one which has been devoted to the effects of absolute power upon

the morals and intellect; for the judicial blindness produced by an

inferior degree of grandeur and good fortune resembles that species of

insanity which we have noticed, and differs from it rather in degree

than in nature. History abounds in examples of such infatuation; the

most striking and perhaps the most important of them, it has been

reserved for our own age to witness.

If ever there was an instance of a powerful mind delivered over

for its ruin to a strong delusion, it is to be found in Napoleon’s

campaign in Russia. An unparalleled series of victories appears to

have confirmed the turn of his mind to fatalism, and to have inspired

a belief that no difficulties were insuperable by his genius and

fortune. It is in such a belief, and in his natural resoluteness of

purpose, aggravated into inflexibility by the habit of dictating to

all who came within his widely extended sphere, that we must look for

the explanation of conduct into which no man would have been betrayed

while in the full and sane possession of his judgment, however just

and unbounded his confidence in himself and his troops. That he was

fully aware of the difficulties which he was about to meet (it is

impossible that they should have escaped his penetration) is evident

from his own declarations. “For masses like those we are about to move,

if precautions be not taken, the grain of no country can suffice. The

result of my movements will be to assemble four hundred thousand men

on a single point. There will be nothing to expect from the country,

and it will be necessary to have everything within ourselves.”[209]

Immense preparations were accordingly made, but made in vain, for a

very small portion of them ever reached the borders of Russia, and

those too late to supply the needs of the army. It is here that the

obstinacy and infatuation of which we have spoken first appear. Too

impatient to wait for the supplies which he had declared indispensable,

and unable to resist the temptation of endeavouring to gain his object

by one decisive stroke, Napoleon plunged headlong into a savage

country, without a commissariat, and with a most insufficient hospital

department, and suffered grievous loss before an enemy was even seen.

Without anything approaching to a general action, the effective force

under his immediate command was reduced in six weeks, between the

passage of the Niemen and his departure from Witepsk, from two hundred

and ninety–seven thousand to one hundred and eighty–five thousand;

and was besides in so shattered and unsoldier–like a condition, that a

fortnight later, at Smolensk, Napoleon himself declared halt or retreat

to be impracticable. “This army cannot stop: with its composition, and

in its disorganized state, movement alone supports it. We may advance

at its head, but not stop or retreat. It is an army of attack, not of

defence; of operation, not of position.”[210] The desperate enterprise

was therefore pursued, and the nominal victory of Borodino, which

cost in killed and wounded thirty thousand men, gave Moscow into his

hands—the specious prize which he hazarded so much to gain. But the

advantages hoped from its possession vanished when in his grasp, and

this seeming success proved but a snare to disguise his failure, and

ensure destruction by delaying retreat.

We probably shall never be satisfied as to the real origin of the

conflagration of Moscow. If the voluntary act of the Russian people,

it deserves to be classed, with the abandonment of Athens, among the

noblest acts of patriotism recorded; but with this difference, that the

Athenians trusted their property to the victor’s mercy, the Russians

inflicted on themselves the utmost losses of war, rather than allow

an invader to profit by the shelter of their homes. That a rugged but

deep love of their country did animate even those among them who had

least to love, is certain. Palaces and hamlets were alike committed to

the flames; the serf and the prince were equally indignant at their

national injuries. “It is an admitted fact, that when the French, in

order to induce their refractory prisoners to labour in their service,

branded some of them in the hand with the letter N. as a sign that they

were the serfs of Napoleon, one peasant laid his hand upon a block of

wood, and struck it off with the axe which he held in the other, in

order to free himself from the supposed thraldom.”[211]

Napoleon depended on the possession of Moscow as a sure means of

dictating peace to Russia on his own terms. As formerly at Vienna and

Berlin, he expected to give laws in the Kremlin to a conquered nation;

and his disappointment in finding this vantage–ground crumble under his

feet was extreme. It was lost, however, irrecoverably lost, for the

Russians had no longer anything to hope or fear for their capital, and

Moscow, ruined and deserted, was no place for the invader to pass a

five–months’ winter in. Policy therefore prompted an immediate retreat,

sufficient time being allowed to refresh and re–organize the army; but

Napoleon still clung with obstinacy to his original plan of dictating

a peace to Alexander from his capital, and sacrificed a fortnight of

precious time to this deceitful hope. It was frustrated; the Russian

monarch refused to listen to any overtures of peace, and the French,

who on the 12th of September had hailed Moscow as the goal of their

labours, quitted it on the 19th of October, to retrace their steps over

a ravaged country through a numerous and exasperated enemy.

We must touch very lightly upon the horrors of the retreat, confining

ourselves to a brief statement of the leading facts, and of the results

of the whole. Famine, cold, and the sword combined to punish an unjust

aggression. When the French left Moscow they numbered one hundred and

twenty thousand men under arms, with an immense train of baggage and

camp followers: in twenty–six days, from October 19th to November

13th, when the Emperor quitted Smolensk, their organized force was

reduced to thirty–six thousand men, and they had lost three hundred

cannon. Napoleon’s partisans have tried to shelter him from blame, by

alleging the premature rigour of winter as the cause of this wholesale

destruction. No doubt cold was the main agent in it, but the nature of

a Russian winter was well known, and should have been considered in the

scheme of the campaign; and so far was it from being premature, that

the frost did not begin till November 7th, only three days before the

French van and the Emperor arrived at Smolensk. Other causes aided to

produce this result. Napoleon intended to return to the above–named

town by the unwasted route of Kalouga and Medyn, but the Russian

army barred his way, and, after an obstinate contest,[212] turned him

back on the ravaged country through which he had already passed. Here

neither food, shelter, nor clothing could be procured, and thousands

fell victims rather to the want of all appliances to bear it, than to

the intolerable severity of the winter itself. Numbers fell in battle,

or were intercepted and slain, or made prisoners by the ever active

hostility of the Cossacks who hovered round their march: still the loss

sustained in warfare was small in comparison to that which resulted

from the combined operation of hunger and cold. The appearance of this

new enemy, and its effects, moral and physical, are powerfully, though

rather theatrically, described by the Comte de Segur, himself a sharer

in the miseries which he describes.

“On the 6th of November the sky declared itself. Its azure disappeared.

The army marched enveloped in cold vapours, which soon thickened into

a vast cloud, and descended in large flakes of snow upon us. It seemed

as if the sky were coming down, and uniting with this hostile land and

people to complete our ruin. All things are indistinguishable; while

the soldier struggles to force his way through the drifting whirlwind,

the driven snow fills up all hollows, and its surface conceals unknown

depths which yawn under our feet. The men are swallowed by them, and

the weakest, resigning themselves to fate, there find a grave. Those

who follow turn aside, but the storm dashes in their faces the snow

from heaven and the drift from the earth, and seems to oppose itself

rancorously to their march. The Russian winter under this new form

attacks them from all sides; it pierces their thin dress and torn

shoes. Their wet clothes freeze on them, a sharp and strong wind

impedes their breath, which at the instant of expiration forms round

the mouth icicles depending from the beard. The wretches, shivering,

still drag themselves on, till the snow which clogs their feet, or

some chance obstacle, causes them to stumble and fall. There they

groan in vain: the snow soon covers them; slight elevations alone

distinguish them: behold their graves! Everywhere the road is strewn

with these undulations like a burial–ground: the most fearless, the

most unfeeling are moved, and turn aside their eyes as they pass in

haste. But before, around, every thing is snow—the sight is lost in

this immense and sad uniformity; the imagination is astounded: it is

like a huge winding–sheet, with which nature envelops the army. The

only objects which appear from out it are sombre pines, trees of the

tombs, with their funereal verdure; and the gigantic fixedness of their

black trunks and their deep gloom complete this desolate aspect of a

general mourning, and of an army dying amid the decease of nature....

Then comes the night, a night of sixteen hours! But on that snow which

covers all things, one knows not where to stop, where to rest, where

to find roots for food, or dry wood for firing. However, fatigue,

darkness, and repeated orders stop those whom their own physical and

moral force, and the efforts of their officers, have retained together.

They seek to establish themselves; but the ever–active storm scatters

the first preparations for a bivouac. The pines, laden with hoar–frost,

resist the flames; and the snow upon them, mixed with that which falls

continually from the sky, and that lying on the earth, which melts

with the efforts of the soldier and the first effect of the fires,

extinguishes those fires and the strength and courage of the men.

“When the flame at length is raised, officers and soldiers prepare

around it their sad meal, composed of lean and bloody fragments of

flesh, torn from wornout horses, and, for a very few, some spoonfuls

of rye flour diluted with snow–water. The next day soldiers, laid

stone–dead in circles, mark the bivouacs, and the ground about them is

strewed with the bodies of many thousand horses.

“From this day, men began to reckon less upon each other. In this

army, lively, susceptible of all impressions, and inclined to speculate

from its advanced civilization, disorder soon gained footing,

discouragement and insubordination spread rapidly, the imagination

wandering without bounds in evil as well as good. Henceforward at every

bivouac, at every difficult passage, some portion of the yet organized

troops detached itself, and fell into disorder. Yet there were some who

resisted this mighty contagion: they were the officers, subalterns,

and seasoned soldiers. These were extraordinary men; they encouraged

themselves by repeating the name of Smolensk, which they felt they were

approaching, and where everything had been promised to them.

“Thus since this deluge of snow, and the redoubled cold which it

announced, all, officers and soldiers alike, preserved or lost their

strength of mind, according to their age, their character, and

temperament. He of our chiefs, whom till then we had seen the strictest

in maintaining discipline, now found himself no longer in his element.

Thrown out of all his fixed ideas of regularity and method, he was

reduced to despair by so universal a disorder, and judging sooner than

others that all was lost, he felt himself ready to abandon all.”[213]

The army quitted Smolensk in four divisions: that under the command of

the Emperor, which led the way, marched on the 14th November. Ney, who

throughout this long retreat brought up the rear, who distinguished

himself amid its horrors by indomitable courage and constancy, and was

hailed by the general voice as the hero of the army, remained behind

until the 17th. On the 20th all were once more united at Oreza, after

seven days of almost continued fighting, in which nothing but the

sluggishness of the Russian general saved the French from destruction,

and Napoleon from captivity or death. Opposed with fifteen thousand

men, half starved and half armed, to a force treble that number, and

in good condition, the Russians must have overthrown him by mere

physical force, had they ventured upon a vigorous attack; but even in

his distresses the presence of Napoleon inspired awe. At no time do

the brilliant qualities of the French troops appear more conspicuous

than in this disastrous retreat: headed on all sides, inclosed by an

overwhelming force, every general outmanœuvred or cut his way through

the enemy,[214] fortunate if it cost him but half of his corps to

preserve the remainder from the disgrace of surrender. Between Smolensk

and Oreza the army was still further reduced to twelve thousand men,

who still preserved their arms and their discipline, encumbered with

thirty thousand stragglers, who grievously increased its wants and its

embarrassments, without adding a single bayonet to its strength.

Hitherto its retreat had been unopposed, the Russian army having

been unwilling or unable to head the French and compel them to force

a passage by the sword; and being in possession of Oreza, it passed

the river Dnieper at that town without opposition. But Admiral

Tchitchagoff, the general in command of the Moldavian army, which was

opposed to the Austrians on the south–eastern end of the French base

of operation, finding them slack and unenterprising in the cause of

an ally, or master rather, to whom in truth they owed little good

will, left merely a division in the duchy of Warsaw to observe their

movements, and himself marched upon Minsk and Borizoff, to cut off

Napoleon’s retreat. At the latter town there was a bridge over the

Beresina, the place itself being on the eastern bank, and on the

possession of the town and command of the bridge depended the means

of crossing that river. Tchitchagoff however, owing to some mistake

of the French general opposed to him, had taken that town, and though

afterwards expelled, had made the bridge impassable in his retreat.

It was necessary, therefore, to seek a passage elsewhere, and a place

above Borizoff, called Studzianka, was selected, where the river was

only fifty–five fathoms across. The chance seemed desperate, for the

opposite heights were occupied by six thousand Russians, and bridges

were to be built, and the army was to defile across them under their

fire; but desperate as it was, this seemed their only hope, and

Napoleon quitting the highway plunged into the thick pine–woods which

border the Beresina, to conceal his march. The joy of the army may

well be imagined, when, in traversing these forests, they met the

division of Victor, of fifty thousand men, in good order, which had

been employed in checking Wittgenstein upon the western flank. “They

were ignorant of our disasters, which had been carefully hidden even

from their chiefs. So that when, instead of a grand victorious column

returning from Moscow, they saw behind Napoleon nothing but a train

of squalid spectres, covered with rags, with women’s pelisses, pieces

of carpet, or squalid cloaks scorched red and burnt into holes by the

fires, their feet wrapped up in tatters of all sorts, they stopped in

terror. They saw with affright these poor fleshless soldiers file past,

with faces like the grave, bristled with ghastly beards, without arms,

without shame, marching in disorder with downcast heads, eyes fixed on

the earth, and silent like a troop of captives.”[215] So contagious was

this spectacle, that on the first day two corps of Victor’s army fell

into the same state of disorganization.

Among other attempts to deceive Tchitchagoff and make him believe that

a passage would be attempted elsewhere, some Jews had been interrogated

concerning the passes of the river; and to secure the breach of their

faith, they had been sworn to meet the army on the Beresina, below

Borizoff, with intelligence of the enemy. The stratagem succeeded;

they carried a false report to the Admiral, and he and Napoleon turned

their backs on each other, and while the latter marched up the river

to Studzianka, the former marched down it to a ford at Oukoholda. All

night the French laboured to construct a bridge, expecting momentarily

the first salvo of the Russian artillery. Napoleon passed a restless

and agitated night in a château near the river, continually repairing

to the spot on which his last hope of escape rested. At morning, when

all were prepared for a desperate and almost hopeless struggle, they

were equally astonished and delighted to see the Russian watch–fires

abandoned and the opposing force in full retreat. Napoleon would

scarce believe the tidings, and when at last convinced by the evidence

of his own eyes, he cried in transport, “Then I have outwitted the

Admiral.”[216]

That day, November 26th, two bridges were completed, and the opposite

bank was occupied by Ney. Two days and two nights elapsed before the

Russians came up, but this valuable respite was lost, owing to the

breaking of the bridge for artillery, and the insubordination of the

stragglers, which rendered it impossible to force them across. On the

night of the 26th they were dispersed among the neighbouring villages;

on the 27th men, horses, and carriages rushed in an overwhelming mass,

and choked the narrow entrance of the bridges: all efforts to restore

order were fruitless, and it was necessary to employ force to clear a

passage for the Emperor. A corps of grenadiers of the Guard declined

from mere pity to open for themselves a way through these wretches.

On the approach of night another simultaneous movement drove them all

to seek shelter in the village of Studzianka, which was torn down to

furnish materials for fires, from which they could not be moved; and

thus another night was lost.

On the 28th, while Tchitchagoff on the right bank in vain endeavoured

to drive Ney back upon the bridges, Wittgenstein, with vastly superior

forces, attacked Victor, who still remained on the left bank with 6000

men to cover the retreat of his unhappy comrades. The first thunder of

the artillery drove this confused mass pell–mell from their bivouacs to

the bridge, and the first Russian bullet which fell among them seemed

the signal of distraction and despair. The horrors of the scene which

ensued are almost too great for description. The more desperate forced

a way sword in hand through the crowd; others, prompted by a horrible

avarice, crushed their fellow–creatures under their carriage–wheels,

rather than abandon the booty hitherto preserved with such labour;

while those who felt themselves unequal to the struggle sat apart in

silence, their eyes fixed on the snow which was soon to be their tomb.

Once driven from the direct passage, men struggled in vain to climb the

sides of the bridge; they were mercilessly forced back into the river:

even women, their infants in their arms, shared this fate.

In the midst of this disorder the bridge for artillery broke, and all

upon it, hurried on by the press, were ingulfed in the stream. The

shriek of the perishing multitude rose high above the storm and the

battle: a witness of the scene declared that for weeks that horrible

sound never quitted his ears. Artillery and waggons then poured to the

other bridge, and on the steep and icy bank whole ranks were prostrated

under their wheels, or crushed between their unmanageable weights. The

noise of the storm, the roaring of cannon, the combined whistling of

the wind and bullets, the bursting of shells, the cries, the groans,

the fearful imprecations of the crowd, united in as horrible a concert

as ever was presented to human ears. At nine at night Victor, who till

then had kept Wittgenstein in check, commenced his retreat, and opened

a dreadful passage through the wretches whom he had hitherto defended.

A rear–guard was still left, and the bridges were allowed to stand

that night, but in vain; men seemed to lose their reason with their

discipline, and to be stupified by the horrors of their situation. The

baggage and plunder, to which they clung so obstinately, was burnt:

still it was impossible to drive them on. The next morning the French

set fire to the bridge, and numbers lost their lives in a final effort

of despair, endeavouring to swim the icy river or to cross upon the

burning rafters. After the thaw, according to the Russian reports,

36,000 bodies were found in the Beresina.[217]

The French, having forced back and defeated Tchitchagoff, were now

delivered from all immediate danger; and Napoleon, who had hitherto

refused to quit the army, hastened to Paris, where internal affairs

called for his presence, leaving Murat his successor in command. From

this time forward the Russians, except Platoff and his Cossacks,

desisted from the pursuit; but this alleviation of their misfortunes

was fully compensated by other evils. A change had already taken place

in the weather; the storms which had hitherto been experienced were

succeeded by a still more dreadful calm. Icy needles were seen floating

in the air; the very birds fell stiff and frozen, everything possessing

life or motion seemed congealed by the intensity of cold.

“In this empire of death we passed on like unhappy spirits. The dull,

uniform sound of our march, the crackling of the snow, the low groans

of dying men, alone broke this mighty melancholy silence. There was no

more anger, no more imprecations, nothing to indicate a trace of heat;

strength scarce remained even for prayer, and the majority fell even

without complaint, whether through weakness or resignation, or that men

only complain when they hope to move, and believe that they are pitied.

“In fact, when for an instant they stopped through exhaustion, the

winter laid her icy hand on them, and seized them as her prey. It

was in vain then that, feeling themselves numbed, they arose, and

speechless, stupified, advanced some paces like automatons: the blood

freezing in their veins checked the beating of their hearts, and

thence rushed to the head; then stricken by death, they staggered like

drunken men. Real tears of blood dropped from their eyes, inflamed by

the unvaried glare of snow, by want of sleep, and by the smoke of the

bivouacs; deep sighs burst from their breasts; they looked to heaven,

to us, and to the earth with a dismayed, fixed, and wild eye; it was

their last adieu, perhaps a reproach to that savage nature which so

tormented them. Soon they dropped, on their knees first, then on their

hands; their heads wandered still some moments to right and left; a few

sounds of agony escaped from the gasping mouth, which in its turn fell

on the snow, and reddened it with livid blood, and their sufferings

were over.

“Such were the last days of the grand army; its last nights were still

more dreadful. When surprised by the dark at a distance from all

dwellings, they stopped on the border of some wood; there they lighted

fires, before which they spent the night, upright and immoveable as

spectres. Unable to get enough of heat, they crowded so close to them,

that their clothes and even frozen portions of their bodies were burnt.

Then a horrible pain compelled them to enlarge their circle, and on the

morrow they endeavoured in vain to rise.”[218]