These peasants, moreover, in removing their carts, their implements, and

their cattle, carried every thing with them, most of them being able to

supply themselves with habitation, clothing, and all other necessaries:

for these people are still in but the first stage of civilization, and

far from that division of labour which denotes the extension and high

improvement of commerce and society.

But in the towns, and especially in the great capital, how could they be

expected to quit so many establishments, to resign so many conveniencies

and enjoyments, so much wealth, moveable and immoveable? and yet it cost

little or no more to obtain the total abandonment of Moscow than that of

the meanest village. There, as at Vienna, Berlin, and Madrid, the

principal nobles hesitated not to retire on our approach: for with them

to remain would seem to be the same as to betray. But here, tradesmen,

artisans, day-labourers, all thought it their duty to flee like the most

powerful of the grandees. There was no occasion to command: these people

have not yet ideas sufficient to judge for themselves, to distinguish

and to discover differences; the example of the nobles was sufficient.

The few foreigners who remained at Moscow might have enlightened them;

some of these were exiled, and terror drove away the rest.

It was, besides, an easy task to excite apprehensions of profanation,

pillage, and devastation in the minds of people so cut off from other

nations, and in the inhabitants of a city which had been so often

plundered and burnt by the Tartars. With these examples before their

eyes, they could not await an impious and ferocious enemy but for the

purpose of fighting him: the rest must necessarily shun his approach

with horror, if they would save themselves in this life and in the next:

obedience, honour, religion, fear, every thing in short enjoined them to

flee, with all that they could carry off.

A fortnight before our arrival, the departure of the archives, the

public chests and treasure, and that of the nobles and the principal

merchants, together with their most valuable effects, indicated to the

rest of the inhabitants what course to pursue. The governor, already

impatient to see the city evacuated, appointed superintendants to

expedite the emigration.

On the 3d of September, a Frenchwoman, at the risk of being torn in

pieces by the furious Muscovites, ventured to leave her hiding-place.

She wandered a long time through extensive quarters, the solitude of

which astonished her, when a distant and doleful sound thrilled her with

terror. It was like the funeral dirge of this vast city; fixed in

motionless suspense, she beheld an immense multitude of persons of both

sexes in deep affliction, carrying their effects and their sacred

images, and leading their children along with them. Their priests, laden

with the sacred symbols of religion, headed the procession. They were

invoking heaven in hymns of lamentation, in which all of them joined

with tears.

On reaching the gates of the city, this crowd of unfortunate creatures

passed through them with painful hesitation: turned their eyes once more

towards Moscow, they seemed to be bidding a last farewell to their holy

city: but by degrees their sobs and the doleful tones of their hymns

died away in the vast plains by which it is surrounded.

CHAP. III.

Thus was this population dispersed in detail or in masses. The roads to

Cazan, Wladimir, and Yaroslaf were covered to the distance of forty

leagues by fugitives on foot, and several unbroken files of vehicles of

every kind. At the same time the measures of Rostopchin to prevent

dejection and to preserve order, detained many of these unfortunate

people till the very last moment.

To this must be added the appointment of Kutusoff, which had revived

their hopes, the false intelligence of a victory at Borodino, and for

the less affluent, the hesitation natural at the moment of abandoning

the only home which they possessed; lastly, the inadequacy of the means

of transport, notwithstanding the quantity of vehicles, which is

peculiarly great in Russia; either because heavy requisitions for the

exigencies of the army had reduced their number; or because they were

too small, as it is customary to make them very light, on account of the

sandy soil and the roads, which may be said to be rather marked out than

constructed.

It was just then that Kutusoff, though defeated at Borodino, sent

letters to all quarters announcing that he was victorious. He deceived

Moscow, Petersburg, and even the commanders of the other Russian armies.

Alexander communicated this false intelligence to his allies. In the

first transports of his joy he hastened to the altars, loaded the army

and the family of his general with honours and money, gave directions

for rejoicings, returned thanks to heaven, and appointed Kutusoff

field-marshal for this defeat.

Most of the Russians affirm that their emperor was grossly imposed upon

by this report. They are still unacquainted with the motives of such a

deception, which at first procured Kutusoff unbounded favours, that were

not withdrawn from him, and afterwards, it is said, dreadful menaces,

that were not put in execution.

If we may credit several of his countrymen, who were perhaps his

enemies, it would appear that he had two motives. In the first place, he

wished not to shake, by disastrous intelligence, the little firmness

which, in Russia, Alexander was generally, but erroneously thought to

possess. In the second, as he was anxious that his despatch should

arrive on the very name-day of his Sovereign, it is added that his

object was to obtain the rewards for which this kind of anniversaries

furnishes occasion.

But at Moscow the erroneous impression was of short continuance. The

rumour of the destruction of half his army was almost immediately

propagated in that city, from the singular commotion of extraordinary

events, which has been known to spread almost instantaneously to

prodigious distances. Still, however, the language of the chiefs, the

only persons who durst speak, continued haughty and threatening: many of

the inhabitants, trusting to it, remained; but they were every day more

and more tormented by a painful anxiety. Nearly at one and the same

moment, they were transported with rage, elevated with hope, and

overwhelmed with fear.

At one of those moments when, either prostrate before the altars, or in

their own houses before the images of their saints, they had no hope but

in heaven, shouts of joy suddenly resounded: the people instantly

thronged the streets and public places to learn the cause. Intoxicated

with joy, their eyes were fixed on the cross of the principal church. A

vulture had entangled himself in the chains which supported it and was

held suspended by them. This was a certain presage to minds whose

natural superstition was heightened by extraordinary anxiety; it was

thus that their God would seize and deliver Napoleon into their power.

Rostopchin took advantage of all these movements, which he excited or

checked according as they were favourable to him or otherwise. He caused

the most diminutive to be selected from the prisoners taken from the

enemy, and exhibited to the people, that the latter might derive courage

from the sight of their weakness: and yet he emptied Moscow of every

kind of supplies, in order to feed the vanquished, and to famish the

conquerors. This measure was easily carried into effect, as Moscow was

provisioned in spring and autumn by water only, and in winter by

sledges.

He was still preserving with a remnant of hope the order that was

necessary, especially in such a flight, when the effects of the disaster

at Borodino appeared. The long train of wounded, their groans, their

garments and linen dyed with gore; their most powerful nobles struck and

overthrown like the others--all this was a novel and alarming sight to a

city which had for such a length of time been exempt from the horrors of

war. The police redoubled its activity; but the terror which it excited

could not long make head against a still greater terror.

Rostopchin once more addressed the people. He declared that "he would

defend Moscow to the last extremity; that the tribunals were already

closed, but that was of no consequence; that there was no occasion for

tribunals to try the guilty." He added, that "in two days he would give

the signal." He recommended to the people to "arm themselves with

hatchets, and especially with three-pronged forks, as the French were

not heavier than a sheaf of corn." As for the wounded, he said he should

cause "masses to be said and the water to be blessed in order to their

speedy recovery. Next day," he added, "he should repair to Kutusoff, to

take final measures for exterminating the enemy. And then," said he, "we

will send these guests to the devil; we will despatch the perfidious

wretches, and fall to work to reduce them to powder."

Kutusoff had in fact never despaired of the salvation of the country.

After employing the militia during the battle of Borodino to carry

ammunition and to assist the wounded, he had just formed with them the

third rank of his army. At Mojaisk, the good face which he had kept up

had enabled him to gain sufficient time to make an orderly retreat, to

pick his wounded, to abandon such as were incurable, and to embarrass

the enemy's army with them. Subsequently at Zelkowo, a check had stopped

the impetuous advance of Murat. At length, on the 13th of September,

Moscow beheld the fires of the Russian bivouacs.

There the national pride, an advantageous position, and the works with

which it was strengthened, all induced a belief that the general had

determined to save the capital or to perish with it. He hesitated,

however, and whether from policy or prudence, he at length abandoned the

governor of Moscow to his full responsibility.

The Russian army in this position of Fili, in front of Moscow, numbered

ninety-one thousand men, six thousand of whom were cossacks, sixty-five

thousand veteran troops, (the relics of one hundred and twenty-one

thousand engaged at the Moskwa,) and twenty thousand recruits, armed

half with muskets and half with pikes.

The French army, one hundred and thirty thousand strong the day before

the great battle, had lost about forty thousand men at Borodino, and

still consisted of ninety thousand. Some regiments on the march and the

divisions of Laborde and Pino had just rejoined it: so that on its

arrival before Moscow it still amounted to nearly one hundred thousand

men. Its march was retarded by six hundred and seven pieces of cannon,

two thousand five hundred artillery carriages, and five thousand baggage

waggons; it had no more ammunition than would suffice for one

engagement. Kutusoff perhaps calculated the disproportion between his

effective force and ours. On this point, however, nothing but conjecture

can be advanced, or he assigned purely military motives for his retreat.

So much is certain, that the old general deceived the governor to the

very last moment. He even swore to him "by his grey hair that he would

perish with him before Moscow," when all at once the governor was

informed, that in a council of war held at night in the camp, it had

been determined to abandon the capital without a battle.

Rostopchin was incensed, but not daunted by this intelligence. There was

now no time to be lost, no farther pains were taken to conceal from

Moscow the fate that was destined for it; indeed it was not worth while

to dissemble for the sake of the few inhabitants who were left; and

besides it was necessary to induce them to seek their safety in flight.

At night, therefore, emissaries went round, knocking at every door and

announcing the conflagration. Fusees were introduced at every favourable

aperture, and especially into the shops covered with iron of the

tradesmen's quarter. The fire engines were carried off: the desolation

attained its highest pitch, and each individual, according to his

disposition, was either overwhelmed with distress or urged to a

decision. Most of those who were left formed groups in the public

places; they crowded together, questioned each other, and reciprocally

asked advice: many wandered about at random, some depressed with terror,

others in a frightful state of exasperation. At length the army, the

last hope of the people, deserted them: the troops began to traverse the

city, and in their retreat they hurried along with them the still

considerable remnant of its population.

They departed by the gate of Kolomna, surrounded by a multitude of

women, children, and aged persons in deep affliction. The fields were

covered with them. They fled in all directions, by every path across the

country, without provisions, and laden with such of their effects as in

their agitation they had first laid their hands on. Some, for want of

horses, had harnessed themselves to carts, and thus dragged along their

infant children, a sick wife, or an infirm father, in short, whatever

they held most dear. The woods afforded them shelter, and they subsisted

on the charity of their countrymen.

On that day, a terrific scene terminated this melancholy drama. This,

the last day of Moscow, having arrived, Rostopchin collected together

all whom he had been able to retain and arm. The prisons were thrown

open. A squalid and disgusting crew tumultuously issued from them. These

wretches rushed into the streets with a ferocious joy. Two men, a

Russian and a Frenchman, the one accused of treason, the other of

political indiscretion, were selected from among this horde, and dragged

before Rostopchin, who reproached the Russian with his crime. The latter

was the son of a tradesman: he had been apprehended while exciting the

people to insurrection. A circumstance which occasioned alarm was the

discovery that he belonged to a sect of German illuminati, called

Martinists, a society of superstitious independents. His audacity had

never failed him in prison. It was imagined for a moment that the spirit

of equality had penetrated into Russia. At any rate he did not impeach

any accomplices.

At this crisis his father arrived. It was expected that he would

intercede for his son: on the contrary, he insisted on his death. The

governor granted him a few moments, that he might once more speak to and

bless him. "What, I! I bless a traitor:" exclaimed the enraged

Russian, and turning to his son, he, with a horrid voice and gesture,

pronounced a curse upon him.

This was the signal for his execution. The poor wretch was struck down

by an ill-directed blow of a sabre. He fell, but wounded only, and

perhaps the arrival of the French might have saved him, had not the

people perceived that he was yet alive. They forced the barriers, fell

upon him, and tore him to pieces.

The Frenchman during this scene was petrified with terror. "As for

thee," said Rostopchin, turning towards him, "being a Frenchman, thou

canst not but wish for the arrival of the French army: be free, then,

but go and tell thy countrymen, that Russia had but a single traitor,

and that he is punished." Then addressing himself to the wretches who

surrounded him, he called them sons of Russia, and exhorted them to make

atonement for their crimes by serving their country. He was the last to

quit that unfortunate city, and he then rejoined the Russian army.

From that moment the mighty Moscow belonged neither to the Russians nor

to the French, but to that guilty horde, whose fury was directed by a

few officers and soldiers of the police. They were organized, and each

had his post allotted to him, in order that pillage, fire, and

devastation might commence every where at once.

CHAP. IV.

That very day (September the 14th), Napoleon, being at length persuaded

that Kutusoff had not thrown himself on his right flank, rejoined his

advanced guard. He mounted his horse a few leagues from Moscow. He

marched slowly and cautiously, sending scouts before him to examine the

woods and the ravines, and to ascend all the eminences to look out for

the enemy's army. A battle was expected: the ground favoured the

opinion: works were begun, but had all been abandoned, and we

experienced not the slightest resistance.

At length the last eminence only remained to be passed: it is contiguous

to Moscow, which it commands. It is called _the Hill of Salvation_,

because, on its summit, the inhabitants, at sight of their holy city,

cross and prostrate themselves. Our scouts had soon gained the top of

this hill. It was two o'clock: the sun caused this great city to glisten

with a thousand colours. Struck with astonishment at the sight, they

paused, exclaiming, "Moscow! Moscow!" Every one quickened his pace; the

troops hurried on in disorder; and the whole army, clapping their hands,

repeated with transport, "Moscow! Moscow!" just as sailors shout "Land!

land!" at the conclusion of a long and toilsome voyage.

At the sight of this gilded city, of this brilliant knot uniting Asia

and Europe, of this magnificent emporium of the luxury, the manners, and

the arts of the two fairest divisions of the globe, we stood still in

proud contemplation. What a glorious day had now arrived! It would

furnish the grandest, the most brilliant recollection of our whole

lives. We felt that at this moment all our actions would engage the

attention of the astonished universe; and that every one of our

movements, however trivial, would be recorded by history.

On this immense and imposing theatre we marched, accompanied, as it

were, by the acclamations of all nations: proud of exalting our grateful

age above all other ages, we already beheld it great from our greatness,

and completely irradiated by our glory.

At our return, already so ardently wished for, with what almost

respectful consideration, with what enthusiasm should we be received by

our wives, our countrymen, and even by our parents! We should form,

during the rest of our lives, a particular class of beings, at whom they

would not look but with astonishment, to whom they would not listen but

with mingled curiosity and admiration! Crowds would throng about us

wherever we passed; they would catch up our most unmeaning words. This

miraculous conquest would surround us with a halo of glory: henceforward

people would fancy that they breathed about us an air of prodigy and

wonder.

When these proud thoughts gave place to more moderate sentiments, we

said to ourselves, that this was the promised term of our labours; that

at length we should pause, since we could no longer be surpassed by

ourselves, after a noble expedition, the worthy parallel to that of

Egypt, and the successful rival of all the great and glorious wars of

antiquity.

At that moment, dangers, sufferings were all forgotten. Was it possible

to purchase too dearly the proud felicity of being able to say, during

the rest of life, "I belonged to the army of Moscow!"

Well, comrades, even now, amidst our abasement, and though it dates from

that fatal city, is not this reflexion of a noble exultation

sufficiently powerful to console us, and to make us proudly hold up our

heads, bowed down by misfortune?

Napoleon himself hastened up. He paused in transport: an exclamation of

joy escaped his lips. Ever since the great battle, the discontented

marshals had shunned him: but at the sight of captive Moscow, at the

intelligence of the arrival of a flag of truce, struck with so important

a result, and intoxicated with all the enthusiasm of glory, they forgot

their grievances. They pressed around the emperor, paying homage to his

good fortune, and already tempted to attribute to his genius the little

pains he had taken on the 7th to complete his victory.

But in Napoleon first emotions were of short duration. He had too much

to think of, to indulge his sensations for any length of time. His first

exclamation was: "There, at last, is that famous city!" and the second:

"It was high time!"

His eyes, fixed on that capital, already expressed nothing but

impatience: in it he beheld in imagination the whole Russian empire. Its

walls enclosed all his hopes,--peace, the expenses of the war, immortal

glory: his eager looks therefore intently watched all its outlets. When

will its gates at length open? When shall he see that deputation come

forth, which will place its wealth, its population, its senate, and the

principal of the Russian nobility at our disposal? Henceforth that

enterprise in which he had so rashly engaged, brought to a successful

termination by dint of boldness, will pass for the result of a high

combination; his imprudence for greatness: henceforth his victory at the

Moskwa, incomplete as it was, will be deemed his greatest achievement.

Thus all that might have turned to his ruin will contribute to his

glory: that day would begin to decide whether he was the greatest man in

the world, or the most rash; in short, whether he had raised himself an

altar, or dug himself a grave.

Anxiety, however, soon began to take possession of his mind. On his left

and right he already beheld Prince Eugene and Poniatowski approaching

the hostile city; Murat, with his scouts, had already reached the

entrance of the suburbs, and yet no deputation appeared: an officer,

sent by Miloradowitch, merely came to declare that his general would set

fire to the city, if his rear was not allowed time to evacuate it.

Napoleon granted every demand. The first troops of the two armies were,

for a short time, intermingled. Murat was recognized by the Cossacks,

who, familiar as the nomadic tribes, and expressive as the people of the

south, thronged around him: then, by their gestures and exclamations,

they extolled his valour and intoxicated him with their admiration. The

king took the watches of his officers, and distributed them among these

barbarous warriors. One of them called him his _hettman_.

Murat was for a moment tempted to believe that in these officers he

should find a new Mazeppa, or that he himself should become one: he

imagined that he had gained them over. This momentary armistice, under

the actual circumstances, sustained the hopes of Napoleon, such need had

he to delude himself. He was thus amused for two hours.

Meanwhile the day was declining, and Moscow continued dull, silent, and

as it were inanimate. The anxiety of the emperor increased; the

impatience of the soldiers became more difficult to be repressed. Some

officers ventured within the walls of the city. "Moscow is deserted!"

At this intelligence, which he angrily refused to credit, Napoleon

descended the Hill of Salvation, and approached the Moskwa and the

Dorogomilow gate. He paused once more, but in vain, at the entry of that

barrier. Murat urged him. "Well!" replied he, "enter then, since they

wish it!" He recommended the strictest discipline; he still indulged

hopes. "Perhaps these inhabitants do not even know how to surrender: for

here every thing is new; they to us, and we to them."

Reports now began to succeed each other: they all agreed. Some

Frenchmen, inhabitants of Moscow, ventured to quit the hiding-place

which for some days had concealed them from the fury of the populace,

and confirmed the fatal tidings. The emperor called Daru. "Moscow

deserted!" exclaimed he: "what an improbable story! We must know the

truth of it. Go and bring me the boyars." He imagined that those men,

stiff with pride, or paralysed with terror, were fixed motionless in

their houses: and he, who had hitherto been always met by the submission

of the vanquished, provoked their confidence, and anticipated their

prayers.

How, indeed, was it possible for him to persuade himself, that so many

magnificent palaces, so many splendid temples, so many rich mercantile

establishments, were forsaken by their owners, like the paltry hamlets

through which he had recently passed. Daru's mission however was

fruitless. Not a Muscovite was to be seen; not the least smoke rose from

a single chimney; not the slightest noise issued from this immense and

populous city; its three hundred thousand inhabitants seemed to be

struck dumb and motionless by enchantment: it was the silence of the

desert!

But such was the incredulity of Napoleon, that he was not yet convinced,

and waited for farther information. At length, an officer, determined to

gratify him, or persuaded that whatever the Emperor willed must

necessarily be accomplished, entered the city, seized five or six

vagabonds, drove them before his horse to the Emperor, and imagined that

he had brought him a deputation. From the first words they uttered,

Napoleon discovered that the persons before him were only indigent

labourers.

It was not till then that he ceased to doubt the entire evacuation of

Moscow, and lost all the hopes that he had built upon it. He shrugged

his shoulders, and with that contemptuous look with which he met every

thing that crossed his wishes, he exclaimed, "Ah! the Russians know not

yet the effect which the taking of their capital will produce upon

them!"

CHAP. V.

It was now an hour since Murat, and the long and close column of his

cavalry, had entered Moscow; they penetrated into that gigantic body, as

yet untouched, but inanimate. Struck with profound astonishment at the

sight of this complete solitude, they replied to the taciturnity of this

modern Thebes, by a silence equally solemn. These warriors listened,

with a secret shuddering, to the steps of their horses resounding alone,

amid these deserted palaces. They were astonished to hear nothing but

themselves amid such numerous habitations. No-one thought of stopping or

of plundering, either from prudence, or because great civilized nations

respect themselves in enemies' capitals, in the presence of those great

centers of civilization.

Meanwhile they were silently observing that mighty city, which would

have been truly remarkable had they met with it in a flourishing and

populous country, but which was still more astonishing in these deserts.

It was like a rich and brilliant oasis. They had at first been struck by

the sudden view of so many magnificent palaces; but they now perceived

that they were intermingled with mean cottages; a circumstance which

indicated the want of gradation between the classes, and that luxury was

not generated there, as in other countries, by industry, but preceded

it; whereas, in the natural order, it ought to be its more or less

necessary consequence.

Here more especially prevailed inequality--that bane of all human

society, which produces pride in some, debasement in others, corruption

in all. And yet such a generous abandonment of every thing demonstrated

that this excessive luxury, as yet however entirely borrowed, had not

rendered these nobles effeminate.

They thus advanced, sometimes agitated by surprise, at others by pity,

and more frequently by a noble enthusiasm. Several cited events of the

great conquests which history has handed down to us; but it was for the

purpose of indulging their pride, not to draw lessons from them; for

they thought themselves too lofty and beyond all comparison: they had

left behind them all the conquerors of antiquity. They were exalted by

that which is second to virtue only, by glory. Then succeeded

melancholy; either from the exhaustion consequent on so many sensations,

or the effect of the operation produced by such an immeasurable

elevation, and of the seclusion in which we were wandering on that

height, whence we beheld immensity, infinity, in which our weakness was

lost: for the higher we ascend, the more the horizon expands, and the

more conscious we become of our own insignificance.

Amid these reflexions, which were favoured by a slow pace, the report of

fire-arms was all at once heard: the column halted. Its last horses

still covered the fields; its centre was in one of the longest streets

of the city; its head had reached the Kremlin. The gates of that citadel

appeared to be closed. Ferocious cries issued from within it: men and

women, of savage and disgusting aspect, appeared fully armed on its

walls. In a state of filthy inebriety, they uttered the most horrible

imprecations. Murat sent them an amicable message, but to no purpose. It

was found necessary to employ cannon to break open the gate.

We penetrated partly without opposition, partly by force, among these

wretches. One of them rushed close to the king, and endeavoured to kill

one of his officers. It was thought sufficient to disarm him, but he

again fell upon his victim, rolled him on the ground, and attempted to

suffocate him; and even after his arms were seized and held, he still

strove to tear him with his teeth. These were the only Muscovites who

had waited our coming, and who seemed to have been left behind as a

savage and barbarous token of the national hatred.

It was easy to perceive, however, that there was no unison in this

patriotic fury. Five hundred recruits, who had been forgotten in the

Kremlin, beheld this scene without stirring. At the first summons they

dispersed. Farther on, we overtook a convoy of provisions, the escort of

which immediately threw down its arms. Several thousand stragglers and

deserters from the enemy, voluntarily remained in the power of our

advanced guard. The latter left to the corps which followed the task of

picking them up; and these to others, and so on: hence they remained at

liberty in the midst of us, till the conflagration and pillage of the

city having reminded them of their duty, and rallied them all in one

general feeling of antipathy, they went and rejoined Kutusoff.

Murat, who had been stopped but a few moments by the Kremlin, dispersed

this crew which he despised. Ardent and indefatigable as in Italy and

Egypt, after a march of nine hundred leagues, and sixty battles fought

to reach Moscow, he traversed that proud city without deigning to halt

in it, and pursuing the Russian rear-guard, he boldly, and without

hesitation, took the road for Wladimir and Asia.

Several thousand Cossacks, with four pieces of cannon, were retreating

in that direction. The armistice was at an end. Murat, tired of this

peace of half a day, immediately ordered it to be broken by a discharge

of carbines. But our cavalry considered the war as finished; Moscow

appeared to them to be the term of it, and the advanced posts of the two

empires were unwilling to renew hostilities. A fresh order arrived, and

the same hesitation prevailed. At length Murat, irritated at this

disobedience, gave his orders in person; and the firing, with which he

seemed to threaten Asia, but which was not destined to cease till we

reached the banks of the Seine, was renewed.

CHAP. VI.

Napoleon did not enter Moscow till after dark. He stopped in one of the

first houses of the Dorogomilow suburb. There he appointed Marshal

Mortimer governor of that capital. "Above all," said he to him, "no

pillage? For this you shall be answerable to me with your life. Defend

Moscow against all, whether friend or foe."

That night was a gloomy one: sinister reports followed one upon the

heels of another. Some Frenchmen, resident in the country, and even a

Russian officer of police, came to denounce the conflagration. He gave

all the particulars of the preparations for it. The Emperor, alarmed by

these accounts, strove in vain to take some rest. He called every

moment, and had the fatal tidings repeated to him. He nevertheless

entrenched himself in his incredulity, till about two in the morning,

when he was informed that the fire had actually broken out.

It was at the exchange, in the centre of the city, in its richest

quarter. He instantly issued orders upon orders. As soon as it was

light, he himself hastened to the spot, and threatened the young guard

and Mortimer. The Marshal pointed out to him some houses covered with

iron; they were closely shut up, still untouched and uninjured without,

and yet a black smoke was already issuing from them. Napoleon pensively

entered the Kremlin.

At the sight of this half Gothic and half modern palace of the Ruriks

and the Romanofs, of their throne still standing, of the cross of the

great Ivan, and of the finest part of the city, which is overlooked by

the Kremlin, and which the flames, as yet confined to the bazaar, seemed

disposed to spare, his former hopes revived. His ambition was flattered

by this conquest. "At length then," he exclaimed, "I am in Moscow, in

the ancient palace of the Czars, in the Kremlin!" He examined every part

of it with pride, curiosity, and gratification.

He required a statement of the resources afforded by the city; and in

this brief moment given to hope, he sent proposals of peace to the

Emperor Alexander. A superior officer of the enemy's had just been found

in the great hospital; he was charged with the delivery of this letter.

It was by the baleful light of the flames of the bazaar that Napoleon

finished it, and the Russian departed. He was to be the bearer of the

news of this disaster to his sovereign, whose only answer was this

conflagration.

Daylight favoured the efforts of the Duke of Treviso, to subdue the

fire. The incendiaries kept themselves concealed. Doubts were

entertained of their existence. At length, strict injunctions being

issued, order restored, and alarm suspended, each took possession of a

commodious house, or sumptuous palace, under the idea of there finding

comforts that had been dearly purchased by long and excessive

privations.

Two officers had taken up their quarters in one of the buildings of the

Kremlin. The view hence embraced the north and west of the city. About

midnight they were awakened by an extraordinary light. They looked and

beheld palaces filled with flames, which at first merely illuminated,

but presently consumed these elegant and noble structures. They observed

that the north wind drove these flames directly towards the Kremlin, and

became alarmed for the safety of that fortress in which the flower of

their army and its commander reposed. They were apprehensive also for

the surrounding houses, where our soldiers, attendants and horses, weary

and exhausted, were doubtless buried in profound sleep. Sparks and

burning fragments were already flying over the roofs of the Kremlin,

when the wind, shifting from north to west, blew them in another

direction.

One of these officers, relieved from apprehension respecting his corps,

then composed himself again to sleep, exclaiming, "Let others look to it

now; 'tis no affair of ours." For such was the unconcern produced by the

multiplicity of events and misfortunes, and such the selfishness arising

from excessive suffering and fatigue, that they left to each only just

strength and feeling sufficient for his personal service and

preservation.

It was not long before fresh and vivid lights again awoke them. They

beheld other flames rising precisely in the new direction which the wind

had taken towards the Kremlin, and they cursed French imprudence and

want of discipline, to which they imputed this disaster. But three times

did the wind thus change from north to west, and three times did these

hostile fires, as if obstinately bent on the destruction of the imperial

quarters, appear eager to follow this new direction.

At this sight a strong suspicion seized their minds. Can the Muscovites,

aware of our rash and thoughtless negligence, have conceived the hope of

burning with Moscow our soldiers, heavy with wine, fatigue and sleep; or

rather, have they dared to imagine that they should involve Napoleon in

this catastrophe; that the loss of such a man would be fully equivalent

to that of their capital; that it was a result sufficiently important to

justify the sacrifice of all Moscow to obtain it; that perhaps Heaven,

in order to grant them so signal a victory, had decreed so great a

sacrifice; and lastly, that so immense a colossus required a not less

immense funeral pile?

Whether this was their plan we cannot tell, but nothing less than the

Emperor's good fortune was required to prevent its being realized. In

fact, not only did the Kremlin contain, unknown to us, a magazine of

gunpowder; but that very night, the guards, asleep and carelessly

posted, suffered a whole park of artillery to enter and draw up under

the windows of Napoleon.

It was at this moment that the furious flames were driven from all

quarters with the greatest violence towards the Kremlin; for the wind,

attracted no doubt by this vast combustion, increased every moment in

strength. The flower of the army and the Emperor would have been

destroyed, if but one of the brands that flew over our heads had

alighted on one of the powder-waggons. Thus upon each of the sparks that

were for several hours floating in the air, depended the fate of the

whole army.

At length the day, a gloomy day, appeared: it came to add to the horrors

of the scene, and to deprive it of its brilliancy. Many of the officers

sought refuge in the halls of the palace. The chiefs, and Mortimer

himself, overcome by the fire with which, for thirty six hours, they had

been contending, there dropped down from fatigue and despair.

They said nothing and we accused ourselves. Most of us imagined that

want of discipline in our troops and intoxication had begun the

disaster, and that the high wind had completed it. We viewed ourselves

with a sort of disgust. The cry of horror which all Europe would not

fail to set up terrified us. Filled with consternation by so tremendous

a catastrophe, we accosted each other with downcast looks: it sullied

our glory; it deprived us of the fruits of it; it threatened our present

and our future existence; we were now but an army of criminals, whom

Heaven and the civilized world would severely judge. From these

overwhelming thoughts and paroxysms of rage against the incendiaries, we

were roused only by an eagerness to obtain intelligence; and all the

accounts began to accuse the Russians alone of this disaster.

In fact, officers arrived from all quarters, and they all agreed. The

very first night, that of the 14th, a fire-balloon had settled on the

palace of Prince Trubetskoi, and consumed it: this was a signal. Fire

had been immediately set to the Exchange: Russian police soldiers had

been seen stirring it up with tarred lances. Here howitzer shells,

perfidiously placed, had discharged themselves in the stoves of several

houses, and wounded the military who crowded round them. Retiring to

other quarters which were still standing, they sought fresh retreats;

but when they were on the point of entering houses closely shut up and

uninhabited, they had heard faint explosions within; these were

succeeded by a light smoke, which immediately became thick and black,

then reddish, and lastly the colour of fire, and presently the whole

edifice was involved in flames.

All had seen hideous-looking men, covered with rags, and women

resembling furies, wandering among these flames, and completing a

frightful image of the infernal regions. These wretches, intoxicated

with wine and the success of their crimes, no longer took any pains to

conceal themselves: they proceeded in triumph through the blazing

streets; they were caught, armed with torches, assiduously striving to

spread the conflagration: it was necessary to strike down their hands

with sabres to oblige them to loose their hold. It was said that these

banditti had been released from prison by the Russian generals for the

purpose of burning Moscow; and that in fact so grand, so extreme a

resolution could have been adopted only by patriotism and executed only

by guilt.

Orders were immediately issued to shoot all the incendiaries on the

spot. The army was on foot. The old guard which exclusively occupied one

part of the Kremlin, was under arms: the baggage, and the horses ready

loaded, filled the courts; we were struck dumb with astonishment,

fatigue and disappointment, on witnessing the destruction of such

excellent quarters. Though masters of Moscow, we were forced to go and

bivouac without provisions outside its gates.

While our troops were yet struggling with the conflagration, and the

army was disputing their prey with the flames, Napoleon, whose sleep

none had dared to disturb during the night, was awoke by the two-fold

light of day and of the fire. His first feeling was that of irritation,

and he would have commanded the devouring element; but he soon paused

and yielded to impossibility. Surprised that when he had struck at the

heart of an empire, he should find there any other sentiment than

submission and terror, he felt himself vanquished, and surpassed in

determination.

This conquest, for which he had sacrificed every thing, was like a

phantom which he had pursued, and which at the moment when he imagined

he had grasped it, vanished in a mingled mass of smoke and flame. He was

then seized with extreme agitation; he seemed to be consumed by the

fires which surrounded him. He rose every moment, paced to and fro, and

again sat down abruptly. He traversed his apartments with quick steps:

his sudden and vehement gestures betrayed painful uneasiness: he

quitted, resumed, and again quitted, an urgent occupation, to hasten to

the windows and watch the progress of the conflagration. Short and

incoherent exclamations burst from his labouring bosom. "What a

tremendous spectacle!--It is their own work!--So many palaces!--What

extraordinary resolution!--What men!--These are Scythians indeed!"

Between the fire and him there was an extensive vacant space, then the

Moskwa and its two quays; and yet the panes of the windows against which

he leaned felt already burning to the touch, and the constant exertions

of sweepers, placed on the iron roofs of the palace, were not sufficient

to keep them clear of the numerous flakes of fire which alighted upon

them.

At this moment a rumour was spread that the Kremlin was undermined: this

was confirmed, it was said, by Russians, and by written documents. Some

of his attendants were beside themselves with fear; while the military

awaited unmoved what the orders of the Emperor and fate should decree:

And to this alarm the Emperor replied only with a smile of incredulity.

But he still walked convulsively; he stopped at every window, and beheld

the terrible, the victorious element furiously consuming his brilliant

conquest; seizing all the bridges, all the avenues to his fortress,

inclosing, and as it were besieging him in it; spreading every moment

among the neighbouring houses; and, reducing him within narrower and

narrower limits, confining him at length to the site of the Kremlin

alone.

We already breathed nothing but smoke and ashes. Night approached, and

was about to add darkness to our dangers: the equinoxial gales, in

alliance with the Russians, increased in violence. The King of Naples

and Prince Eugene hastened to the spot: in company with the Prince of

Neufchatel they made their way to the Emperor, and urged him by their

entreaties, their gestures, and on their knees, and insisted on removing

him from this scene of desolation. All was in vain.

Napoleon, in possession of the palace of the Czars, was bent on not

yielding that conquest even to the conflagration, when all at once the

shout of "the Kremlin is on fire!" passed from mouth to mouth, and

roused us from the contemplative stupor with which we had been seized.

The Emperor went out to ascertain the danger. Twice had the fire

communicated to the building in which he was, and twice had it been

extinguished; but the tower of the arsenal was still burning. A soldier

of the police had been found in it. He was brought in, and Napoleon

caused him to be interrogated in his presence. This man was the

incendiary: he had executed his commission at the signal given by his

chief. It was evident that every thing was devoted to destruction, the

ancient and sacred Kremlin itself not excepted.

The gestures of the Emperor betokened disdain and vexation: the wretch

was hurried into the first court, where the enraged grenadiers

dispatched him with their bayonets.

[Illustration: Conflagration of Moscow]

CHAP. VII.

This incident had decided Napoleon. He hastily descended the northern

staircase, famous for the massacre of the Strelitzes, and desired to be

conducted out of the city, to the distance of a league on the road to

Petersburgh, toward the imperial palace of Petrowsky.

But we were encircled by a sea of fire, which blocked up all the gates

of the citadel, and frustrated the first attempts that were made to

depart. After some search, we discovered a postern gate leading between

the rocks to the Moskwa. It was by this narrow passage that Napoleon,

his officers and guard escaped from the Kremlin. But what had they

gained by this movement? They had approached nearer to the fire, and

could neither retreat nor remain where they were; and how were they to

advance? how force a passage through the waves of this ocean of flame?

Those who had traversed the city, stunned by the tempest, and blinded by

the ashes, could not find their way, since the streets themselves were

no longer distinguishable amidst smoke and ruins.

There was no time to be lost. The roaring of the flames around us became

every moment more violent. A single narrow winding street completely on

fire, appeared to be rather the entrance than the outlet to this hell.

The Emperor rushed on foot and without hesitation into this narrow

passage. He advanced amid the crackling of the flames, the crash of

floors, and the fall of burning timbers, and of the red-hot iron roofs

which tumbled around him. These ruins impeded his progress. The flames

which, with impetuous roar, consumed the edifices between which we were

proceeding spreading beyond the walls, were blown about by the wind, and

formed an arch over our heads. We walked on a ground of fire, beneath a

fiery sky, and between two walls of fire. The intense heat burned our

eyes, which we were nevertheless obliged to keep open and fixed on the

danger. A consuming atmosphere, glowing ashes, detached flames, parched

our throats, and rendered our respiration short and dry; and we were

already almost suffocated by the smoke. Our hands were burned, either in

endeavouring to protect our faces from the insupportable heat, or in

brushing off the sparks which every moment covered and penetrated our

garments.

In this inexpressible distress, and when a rapid advance seemed to be

our only mean of safety, our guide stopped in uncertainty and agitation.

Here would probably have terminated our adventurous career, had not some

pillagers of the first corps recognised the Emperor amidst the whirling

flames: they ran up and guided him towards the smoking ruins of a

quarter which had been reduced to ashes in the morning.

It was then that we met the Prince of Eckmühl. This marshal, who had

been wounded at the Moskwa, had desired to be carried back among the

flames to rescue Napoleon, or to perish with him. He threw himself into

his arms with transport; the emperor received him kindly, but with that

composure which in danger he never lost for a moment.

To escape from this vast region of calamities, it was further necessary

to pass a long convoy of powder, which was defiling amidst the fire.

This was not the least of his dangers, but it was the last, and by

nightfall he arrived at Petrowsky.

Next morning, the 17th of September, Napoleon cast his first looks

towards Moscow, hoping to see that the conflagration had subsided. He

beheld it again raging with the utmost violence: the whole city appeared

like a vast spout of fire rising in whirling eddies to the sky, which it

deeply coloured. Absorbed by this melancholy contemplation, he preserved

a long and gloomy silence, which he broke only by the exclamation, "This

forebodes great misfortunes to us!"

The effort which he had made to reach Moscow had expended all his means

of warfare. Moscow had been the term of his projects, the aim of all his

hopes, and Moscow was no more! What was now to be done? Here this

decisive genius was forced to hesitate. He, who in 1805 had ordered the

sudden and total abandonment of an expedition, prepared at an immense

cost, and determined at Bologne-sur-mer on the surprise and annihilation

of the Austrian army, in short, all the operations of the campaign

between Ulm and Munich exactly as they were executed; the same man, who,

the following year, dictated at Paris with the same infallibility all

the movements of his army as far as Berlin, the day fixed for his

entrance into that capital, and the appointment of the governor whom he

destined for it--he it was, who, astonished in his turn, was now

undecided what course to pursue. Never had he communicated his most

daring projects to the most confidential of his ministers but in the

order for their execution; he was now constrained to consult, and put to

the proof, the moral and physical energies of those about him.

In doing this, however, he still preserved the same forms. He declared,

therefore, that he should march for Petersburg. This conquest was

already marked out on his maps, hitherto so prophetic: orders were even

issued to the different corps to hold themselves in readiness. But his

decision was only a feint: it was but a better face that he strove to

assume, or an expedient for diverting his grief for the loss of Moscow:

so that Berthier, and more especially Bessières, soon convinced him that

he had neither time, provisions, roads, nor a single requisite for so

extensive an excursion.

At this moment he was apprised that Kutusoff, after having fled

eastward, had suddenly turned to the south, and thrown himself between

Moscow and Kalouga. This was an additional motive against the expedition

to Petersburg; there was a threefold reason for marching upon this

beaten army for the purpose of extinguishing it; to secure his right

flank and his line of operation; to possess himself of Kalouga and

Toula, the granary and arsenal of Russia; and lastly, to open a safe,

short, new, and virgin retreat to Smolensk and Lithuania.

Some one proposed to return upon Wittgenstein and Witepsk. Napoleon was

undecided between all these plans. That for the conquest of Petersburg

alone flattered him: the others appeared but as ways of retreat, as

acknowledgments of error; and whether from pride, or policy which will

not admit itself to be in the wrong, he rejected them.

Besides, where was he to stop in a retreat? He had so fully calculated

on concluding a peace at Moscow, that he had no winter quarters provided

in Lithuania. Kalouga had no temptations for him. Wherefore lay waste

fresh provinces? It would be wiser to threaten them, and leave the

Russians something to lose, in order to induce them to conclude a peace

by which it might be preserved. Would it be possible to march to another

battle, to fresh conquests, without exposing a line of operation,

covered with sick, stragglers, wounded and convoys of all sorts? Moscow

was the general rallying point; how could it be changed? What other name

would have any attraction?

Lastly, and above all, how relinquish a hope to which he had made so

many sacrifices, when he knew that his letter to Alexander had just

passed the Russian advanced posts; when eight days would be sufficient

for receiving an answer so ardently desired; when he wanted that time to

rally and re-organize his army, to collect the relics of Moscow, the

conflagration of which had but too strongly sanctioned pillage, and to

draw his soldiers from that vast infirmary!

Scarcely indeed a third of that army and of that capital now existed.

But himself and the Kremlin were still standing: his renown was still

entire, and he persuaded himself that those two great names, Napoleon

and Moscow, combined, would be sufficient to accomplish every thing. He

determined, therefore, to return to the Kremlin, which a battalion of

his guard had unfortunately preserved.

CHAP. VIII.

The camps which he traversed on his way thither presented an

extraordinary sight. In the fields, amidst thick and cold mud, large

fires were kept up with mahogany furniture, windows, and gilded doors.

Around these fires, on a litter of damp straw, imperfectly sheltered by

a few boards, were seen the soldiers, and their officers, splashed all

over with mud, and blackened with smoke, seated in arm-chairs or

reclined on silken couches. At their feet were spread or heaped Cashmere

shawls, the rarest furs of Siberia, the gold stuffs of Persia, and

silver plates, off which they had nothing to eat but a black dough baked

in the ashes, and half broiled and bloody horse-flesh. Singular

assemblage of abundance and want, of riches and filth, of luxury and

wretchedness!

Between the camp and the city were met troops of soldiers dragging along

their booty, or driving before them, like beasts of burden, Muscovites

bending under the weight of the pillage of their capital; for the fire

brought to view nearly twenty thousand inhabitants, previously

unobserved in that immense city. Some of these Muscovites of both sexes

were well dressed; they were tradespeople. They came with the wreck of

their property to seek refuge at our fires. They lived pell-mell with

our soldiers, protected by some, and tolerated, or rather scarcely

remarked by others.

About ten thousand of the enemy's troops were in the same predicament.

For several days they wandered about among us free, and some of them

even still armed. Our soldiers met these vanquished enemies without

animosity, or without thinking of making them prisoners; either because

they considered the war as at an end, from thoughtlessness, or from

pity, and because when not in battle the French delight in having no

enemies. They suffered them to share their fires; nay, more, they

allowed them to pillage in their company. When some degree of order was

restored, or rather when the officers had organized this marauding as a

regular system of forage, the great number of these Russian stragglers

then attracted notice. Orders were given to secure them; but seven or

eight thousand had already escaped. It was not long before we had to

fight them.

On entering the city, the Emperor was struck by a sight still more

extraordinary: a few houses scattered among the ruins were all that was

left of the mighty Moscow. The smell issuing from this colossus,

overthrown, burned, and calcined, was horrible. Heaps of ashes, and at

intervals, fragments of walls or half demolished pillars, were now the

only vestiges that marked the site of streets.

The suburbs were sprinkled with Russians of both sexes, covered with

garments nearly burned. They flitted like spectres among the ruins;

squatted in the gardens, some of them were scratching up the earth in

quest of vegetables, while others were disputing with the crows for the

relics of the dead animals which the army had left behind. Farther on,

others again were seen plunging into the Moskwa to bring out some of the

corn which had been thrown into it by command of Rostopchin, and which

they devoured without preparation, sour and spoiled as it already was.

Meanwhile the sight of the booty, in such of the camps where every thing

was yet wanting, inflamed the soldiers whom their duty or stricter

officers had kept with their colours. They murmured. "Why were they to

be kept back? Why were they to perish by famine and want, when every

thing was within their reach! Was it right to leave the enemy's fires to

destroy what might be saved? Why was such respect to be paid them?" They

added, that "as the inhabitants of Moscow had not only abandoned, but

even endeavoured utterly to destroy it, all that they could save would

be legitimately acquired; that the remains of that city, like the relics

of the arms of the conquered, belonged by right to the victors, as the

Muscovites had turned their capital into a vast machine of war, for the

purpose of annihilating us."

The best principled and the best disciplined were those who argued thus,

and it was impossible to reply. Too rigid scruples at first prevented

the issuing of orders for pillage; it was now permitted, unrestrained by

regulations. Urged by the most imperious necessities, all hurried to

share in the spoil, the soldiers of the _élite_, and even officers

themselves. Their chiefs were obliged to shut their eyes: only such

guards as were absolutely indispensable were left with the eagles and

the fasces.

The Emperor saw his whole army dispersed over the city. His progress was

obstructed by a long file of marauders going in quest of booty, or

returning with it; by tumultuous assemblages of soldiers grouped around

the entrances of cellars, or the doors of palaces, shops, and churches,

which the fire had nearly reached, and into which they were endeavouring

to penetrate.

His steps were impeded by the fragments of furniture of every kind which

had been thrown out of the windows to save it from the flames, or by

rich pillage which had been abandoned from caprice for some other booty;

for such is the way with soldiers; they are incessantly beginning their

fortune afresh, taking every thing without discrimination, loading

themselves beyond measure, as if they could carry all they find; then,

after they have gone a few steps, compelled by fatigue to throw away the

greatest part of their burden.

The roads were obstructed; the open places, like the camps, were turned

into markets, whither every one repaired to exchange superfluities for

necessaries. There, the rarest articles, the value of which was not

known to their possessors, were sold at a low price; others, of

deceitful appearance, were purchased at a price far beyond their worth.

Gold, as being more portable, was bought at an immense loss with silver,

which the knapsacks were incapable of holding. Everywhere soldiers were

seen seated on bales of merchandize, on heaps of sugar and coffee,

amidst wines and the most exquisite liqueurs, which they were offering

in exchange for a morsel of bread. Many, in an intoxication aggravated

by inanition, had fallen near the flames, which reached them, and put an

end to their lives.

Most of the houses and palaces which had escaped the fire served

nevertheless for quarters for the officers, and all that they contained

was respected. All of them beheld with pain this vast destruction, and

the pillage which was its necessary consequence. Some of our men

belonging to the _élite_ were charged with taking too much pleasure in

collecting what they were able to save from the flames; but their number

was so few that they were mentioned by name. In these ardent men, war

was a passion which presupposed the existence of others. It was not

covetousness, for they did not hoard; they spent lavishly what they

picked up, taking in order to give, believing that one hand washed the

other, and that they had paid for every thing with the danger.

Besides, on such an occasion, there is scarcely any distinction to be

made, unless in the motive: some took with regret, others with pleasure,

and all from necessity. Amidst wealth which had ceased to belong to any

individual, ready to be consumed, or to be buried in ashes, they were

placed in a quite novel situation, where right and wrong were

confounded, and for which no rule was laid down. The most delicate,

either from principle, or because they were richer than others, bought

of the soldiers the provision and apparel which they required: some sent

agents to plunder for them; and the most necessitous were forced to help

themselves with their own hands.

As to the soldiers, many of them being embarrassed with the fruits of

their pillage, became less active, less thoughtless: in danger they

began to calculate, and in order to save their booty, they did what they

would have disdained to do to save themselves.

It was amidst this confusion that Napoleon again entered Moscow. He had

allowed this pillage, hoping that his army, scattered over the ruins,

would not ransack them in vain. But when he learned that the disorder

increased; that the old guard itself was seduced; that the Russian

peasants, who were at length allured thither with provisions, for which

he caused them to be liberally paid for the purpose of drawing others,

were robbed of the provisions which they brought us, by our famished

soldiers; when he was informed that the different corps, destitute of

every thing, were ready to fight for the relics of Moscow; that,

finally, all the existing resources were wasted by this irregular

pillage; he then issued strict orders, and forbade his guard to leave

their quarters. The churches, in which our cavalry had sheltered

themselves, were restored to the Greek worship. The business of plunder

was ordered to be taken in turn by the corps like any other duty, and

directions were at length given for securing the Russian stragglers.

But it was too late. These soldiers had fled: the affrighted peasants

returned no more; great quantities of provisions were spoiled. The

French army have sometimes fallen into this fault, but on the present

occasion the fire pleads their excuse: no time was to be lost in

anticipating the flames. It is, however, a remarkable fact, that at the

first command perfect order was restored.

Some writers, and even French ones, have ransacked these ruins in quest

of traces of outrages which might have been committed in them. There

were very few. Most of our men behaved generously, considering the small

number of inhabitants, and the great number of enemies, that they met

with. But if in the first moments of pillage some excesses were

committed, ought this to appear surprising in an army exasperated by

such urgent wants, such severe sufferings, and composed of so many

different nations?

Misfortune having since humbled these warriors, reproaches have, as is

always the case, been raised against them. Who can be ignorant that such

disorders have always been the bad side of great wars, the inglorious

part of glory; that the renown of conquerors casts its shadow like every

thing else in this world! Does there exist a creature ever so

diminutive, on every side of which the sun, great as is that luminary,

can shine at once? It is therefore a law of nature, that large bodies

have large shadows.

For the rest, people have been too much astonished at the virtues as

well as at the vices of that army. They were the virtues of the moment,

the vices of the age; and for this very reason, the former were less

praiseworthy, and the latter less reprehensible, inasmuch as they were,

if I may so express myself, enjoined by example and circumstances. Thus

every thing is relative, which does not exclude fixed principles and

absolute good as the point of departure and aim. But here the question

relates to the judgment formed of this army and its chief; and he who

would form a correct judgment of them must put himself in their place.

As, then, this position is very elevated, very extraordinary, very

complicated, few minds are capable of attaining it, embracing the whole

of it, and appreciating all its necessary results.

CHAP. IX.

Meanwhile Kutusoff, on leaving Moscow, had drawn Murat towards Kolomna,

to the point where the Moskwa intersects the road. Here, under favour of

the night, he suddenly turned to the south, proceeding by way of Podol,

to throw himself between Moscow and Kalouga. This nocturnal march of the

Russians around Moscow, the ashes and flames of which were wafted to

them by the violence of the wind, was melancholy and religious. They

advanced by the baleful light of the conflagration, which was consuming

the centre of their commerce, the sanctuary of their religion, the

cradle of their empire! Filled with horror and indignation, they all

kept a sullen silence, which was unbroken save by the dull and

monotonous sound of their footsteps, the roaring of the flames, and the

howling of the tempest. The dismal light was frequently interrupted by

livid and sudden flashes. The brows of these warriors might then be seen

contracted by a savage grief, and the fire of their sombre and

threatening looks answered these flames, which they regarded as our

work; it already betrayed that ferocious revenge which was rankling in

their hearts, which spread throughout the whole empire, and to which so

many Frenchmen fell victims.

At that solemn moment, Kutusoff in a firm and noble tone informed his

sovereign of the loss of his capital. He declared, that, "in order to

preserve the fertile provinces of the south, and his communication with

Tormasof and Tchitchakof, he had been obliged to abandon Moscow, but

emptied of the inhabitants, who were the life of it; that as the people

are the soul of every empire, so wherever the Russian people were, there

would be Moscow and the whole empire of Russia."

Here, however, he seemed to bend under the weight of his grief. He

admitted that "this wound was deep and could never be effaced;" but soon

recovering himself, he added, that "the loss of Moscow made but one city

less in the empire, that it was the sacrifice of a part for the

salvation of the whole. He was throwing himself on the flank of the

enemy's long line of operation, keeping him as it were blockaded by his

detachments: there he should watch his movements, cover the resources of

the empire, and again complete his army;" and already (on the 16th of

September) he announced, that "Napoleon would be forced to abandon his

fatal conquest."

It is said that on the receipt of this intelligence Alexander was

thunderstruck. Napoleon built hopes on the weakness of his rival, and

the Russians at the same time dreaded the effect of that weakness. The

Czar belied both these hopes and these fears. In his addresses to his

subjects he exhibited himself great as his misfortune; "No pusillanimous

dejection!" he exclaimed: "Let us vow redoubled courage and

perseverance! The enemy is in deserted Moscow as in a tomb, without

means of domination or even of existence. He entered Russia with three

hundred thousand men of all countries, without union or any national or

religious bond;--he has lost half of them by the sword, famine, and

desertion: he has but the wreck of this army in Moscow; he is in the

heart of Russia, and not a single Russian is at his feet.

"Meanwhile, our forces are increasing and inclosing him. He is in the

midst of a mighty population, encompassed by armies which are waiting

for, and keeping him in check. To escape famine, he will soon be obliged

to direct his flight through the close ranks of our brave soldiers.

Shall we then recede, when all Europe is looking on and encouraging us?

Let us on the contrary set it an example, and kiss the hand which has

chosen us to be the first of the nations in the cause of virtue and

independence." He concluded with an invocation to the Almighty.

The Russians entertain different opinions respecting their general and

their Emperor. We, for our part, as enemies, can only judge of our

enemies by their actions. Now such were their words, and their actions

corresponded with them. Comrades! let us do them justice! their

sacrifice was complete, without reserve, without tardy regrets. They

have since claimed nothing, even in the enemy's capital which they

preserved. Their renown has therefore remained great and unsullied. They

have known real glory; and when a more advanced civilization shall have

spread among all classes of that great nation, it will have its

brilliant era, and will sway in its turn the sceptre of glory, which it

seems to be decreed that the nations of the earth shall successively

relinquish to each other.

This circuitous march made by Kutusoff, either from indecision or

stratagem, turned out fortunate for him. Murat lost all trace of him for

three days. The Russian employed this interval in studying the ground

and entrenching himself. His advanced guard had nearly reached Woronowo,

one of the finest domains belonging to Count Rostopchin, when that

nobleman proceeded forward before it. The Russians supposed that he was

going to take a last look at this mansion, when all at once the edifice

was wrapt from their sight by clouds of smoke.

They hurried on to extinguish the fire, but Rostopchin himself rejected

their aid. They beheld him amid the flames which he was encouraging,

smiling at the demolition of this splendid mansion, and then with a firm

hand penning these words, which the French, shuddering with surprise,

read on the iron gate of a church which was left standing: "For eight

years I have been embellishing this country seat, where I have lived

happily in the bosom of my family. The inhabitants of this estate, to

the number of 1,720, will leave it on your approach, while I have set

fire to my house, that it might not be polluted by your presence.

Frenchmen, I have relinquished to you my two houses at Moscow, with

their furniture, worth half a million of rubles. Here you will find

nothing but ashes."

It was near this place that Murat came up with Kutusoff. On the 29th of

September there was a smart engagement of cavalry towards Czerikowo, and

another, on the 4th of October, near Vinkowo. But there, Miloradowitch,

too closely pressed, turned round furiously, with twelve thousand horse,

upon Sebastiani. He brought him into such danger, that Murat, amidst the

fire, dictated a proposal for a suspension of arms, announcing to

Kutusoff the approach of a flag of truce. It was Lauriston that he

expected. But as the arrival of Poniatowski at that moment gave us some

superiority, the king made no use of the letter which he had written; he

fought till nightfall, and repulsed Miloradowitch.

Meanwhile the conflagration at Moscow, which commenced in the night of

the 14th of September, suspended through our exertions during the day of

the 15th, revived in the following night, and raging in its utmost

violence on the 16th, 17th, and 18th, abated on the 19th. It ceased on

the 20th. That very day, Napoleon, whom the flames had driven from the

Kremlin, returned to the palace of the czars. He invited thither the

looks of all Europe. He there awaited his convoys, his reinforcements,

and the stragglers of his army; certain that all his men would be

rallied by his victory, by the allurements of such vast booty, by the

astonishing sight of captive Moscow, and above all, by his own glory,

which from the top of this immense pile of ruins, still shone attractive

like a beacon upon a rock.

Twice, however, on the 22d and 28th of September, letters from Murat had

well nigh drawn Napoleon from this fatal abode. They announced a battle;

but twice the orders for departure, written in consequence, were burned.

It seemed as though the war was finished for our Emperor, and that he

was only waiting for an answer from Petersburg. He nourished his hopes

with the recollections of Tilsit and Erfurt. Was it possible that at

Moscow he should have less ascendancy over Alexander? Then, like men who

have long been favourites of fortune, what he ardently wished he

confidently expected.

His genius possessed besides that extraordinary faculty, which consisted

in throwing aside the most important occupation whenever he pleased,

either for the sake of variety or of rest: for in him the power of

volition surpassed that of imagination. In this respect he reigned over

himself as much as he did over others.

Thus Paris diverted his attention from Petersburg. His affairs were as

yet divided, and the couriers, which in the first days succeeded each

other without intermission, served to engage him. But the rapidity with

which he transacted business soon left him nothing to do. His expresses,

which at first came from France in a fortnight, ceased to arrive. A few

military posts, placed in four towns reduced to ashes, and in wooden

houses rudely palisaded, were not sufficient to guard a road of

ninety-three leagues: for we had not been able to establish more than a

few echelons, and those at too great distances, on too long a line of

operation, broken at every point where it was touched by the enemy; and

for which a few peasants and a handful of Cossacks were quite

sufficient.

Still no answer was received from Alexander. The uneasiness of Napoleon

increased, and his means of distraction diminished. The activity of his

genius, accustomed to the government of all Europe, had nothing

wherewith to occupy itself but the management of one hundred thousand

men; and then, the organization of his army was so perfect, that this

was scarcely any occupation. Here every thing was fixed; he held all the

wires in his hand: he was surrounded by ministers who could tell him

immediately, at any hour of the day, the position of each man in the

morning or at night, whether alone or not, whether with his colours, or

in the hospital, or on leave of absence, or wherever else he might be,

and that from Moscow to Paris--to such a degree of perfection had the

science of military administration been brought, so experienced and well

chosen were the officers, and so much was required by their commander.

But eleven days had now elapsed; still Alexander was silent, and still

did Napoleon hope to overcome his rival in obstinacy: thus losing the

time which he ought to have gained, and which is always serviceable to

defence against attack.

From this period all his actions indicated to the Russians still more

strongly than at Witepsk, that their mighty foe was resolved to fix

himself in the heart of their empire. Moscow, though in ashes, received

an intendant and municipalities. Orders were issued to provision it for

the winter. A theatre was formed amidst the ruins. The first-rate actors

of Paris were said to have been sent for. An Italian singer strove to

reproduce in the Kremlin the evening entertainments of the Tuileries. By

such means Napoleon expected to dupe a government, which the habit of

reigning over error and ignorance had rendered an adept in all these

deceptions.

He was himself sensible of the inadequacy of these means, and yet

September was past, October had begun. Alexander had not deigned to

reply! it was an affront! he was exasperated. On the 3d of October,

after a night of restlessness and anger, he summoned his marshals. "Come

in," said he, as soon as he perceived them, "hear the new plan which I

have conceived; Prince Eugene, read it." They listened. "We must burn

the remains of Moscow, march by Twer to Petersburg, where we shall be

joined by Macdonald. Murat and Davoust will form the rear-guard."--The

Emperor, all animation, fixed his sparkling eyes on his generals, whose

frigid and silent countenances expressed nothing but astonishment.

Then exalting himself in order to rouse them--"What!" said he, "and are

_you_ not inflamed by this idea? Was there ever so great a military

achievement? Henceforth this conquest is the only one that is worthy of

us! With what glory we shall be covered, and what will the whole world

say, when it learns that in three months we have conquered the two great

capitals of the North!"

But Davoust, as well as Daru, objected to him, "the season, the want of

supplies, a sterile desert and artificial road, that from Twer to

Petersburg, running for a hundred leagues through morasses, and which

three hundred peasants might in one day render impassable. Why keep

proceeding northward? why go to meet winter, to provoke and to defy

it?--it was already too near; and what was to become of the six thousand

wounded still in Moscow? were they then to be left to the mercy of

Kutusoff? That general would not fail to follow close at our heels. We

should have at once to attack and to defend ourselves, and to march, as

though we were fleeing to a conquest."

These officers have declared that they then proposed various plans; a

useless trouble with a prince whose genius outstripped all other

imaginations, and whom their objections would not have stopped, had he

been really determined to march to Petersburg. But that idea was in him

only a sally of anger, an inspiration of despair, on finding himself

obliged in the face of Europe to give way, to relinquish a conquest, and

to retreat.

It was more especially a threat to frighten his officers as well as the

enemy, and to bring about and promote a negotiation which Caulaincourt

was to open. That officer had pleased Alexander; he was the only one of

the grandees of Napoleon's court who had acquired any influence over his

rival; but for some months past, Napoleon had kept him at a distance,

because he had not been able to persuade him to approve his expedition.

It was nevertheless to this very man that he was that day obliged to

have recourse, and to disclose his anxiety. He sent for him; but when

alone with him, he hesitated. Taking him by the arm, he walked to and

fro a long time in great agitation, while his pride prevented him from

breaking so painful a silence: at length it yielded, but in a

threatening manner. He was to beg the enemy to solicit peace, as if he

deigned to grant it.

After a few words, which were scarcely articulate, he said, that "he was

about to march to Petersburg. He knew that the destruction of that city

would no doubt give pain to his grand-equerry. Russia would then rise

against the Emperor Alexander: there would be a conspiracy against that

monarch; he would be assassinated, which would be a most unfortunate

circumstance. He esteemed that prince, and should regret him, both for

his own sake and that of France. His character, he added, was suitable

to our interests; no prince could replace him with such advantage to us.

He thought therefore of sending Caulaincourt to him, to prevent such a

catastrophe."

The Duke of Vicenza, however, more obstinate, than susceptible of

flattery, did not alter his tone. He maintained that "these overtures

would be useless; that so long as the Russian territory was not entirely

evacuated, Alexander would not listen to any proposals; that Russia was

sensible of all her advantage at this season of the year; nay, more,

that this step would be detrimental to himself, inasmuch as it would

demonstrate the need which Napoleon had of peace, and betray all the

embarrassment of our situation."

He added, "that the higher the rank of the negotiator whom he selected,

the more clearly he would show his anxiety; that of course he himself

would be more likely to fail than any other, especially as he should go

with this certainty." The Emperor abruptly terminated the conversation

by these words: "Well, then, I will send Lauriston."

The latter asserts, that he added fresh objections to the preceding, and

that, being urged by the Emperor, he recommended to him to begin his

retreat that very day by way of Kalouga. Napoleon, irritated at this,

acrimoniously replied, that "he liked simple plans, less circuitous

routes, high roads, the road by which he had come, yet he would not

retread it but with peace." Then showing to him, as he had done to the

Duke of Vicenza, the letter which he had written to Alexander, he

ordered him to go and obtain of Kutusoff a safe-conduct to Petersburg.

The last words of the Emperor to Lauriston were: "I want peace, I must

have peace, I absolutely will have peace; only save my honour!"

CHAP. X.

The general set out, and reached the advanced posts on the 5th of

October. Hostilities were instantly suspended, the interview granted;

but Wolkonsky, aide-de-camp to Alexander, and Beningsen were there

without Kutusoff. Wilson asserts, that the Russian generals and

officers, suspecting their commander, and accusing him of weakness, had

raised a cry of treason, and that the latter had not dared to leave his

camp.

Lauriston's instructions purported that he was to address himself to no

one but Kutusoff. He therefore peremptorily rejected any intermediate

communication, and seizing, as he said, this occasion for breaking off a

negotiation which he disapproved, he retired, in spite of all the

solicitations of Wolkonsky, and determined to return to Moscow. In that

case, no doubt, Napoleon, exasperated, would have fallen upon Kutusoff,

overthrown him and destroyed his army, as yet very incomplete, and have

forced him into a peace. In case of less decisive success, he would at

least have been able to retire without loss upon his reinforcements.

Beningsen unfortunately desired an interview with Murat. Lauriston

paused. The chief of the Russian staff, an abler negotiator than

soldier, strove to charm the new king by demonstrations of respect; to

seduce him by praises; to deceive him with smooth words, breathing

nothing but a weariness of war and the hope of peace: and Murat, tired

of battles, anxious respecting their result, and as it is said,

regretting his throne, now that he had no hope of a better, suffered

himself to be charmed, seduced and deceived.

Beningsen was equally successful in persuading his own commander, and

the leader of our vanguard; he sent in great haste for Lauriston, and

had him conducted to the Russian camp, where Kutusoff was waiting for

him at midnight. The interview began ill. Konownitzin and Wolkonsky

wished to be present. This shocked the French general: he insisted that

they should retire, and they complied.

As soon as Lauriston was alone with Kutusoff, he explained his motives

and his object, and applied for a safe-conduct to Petersburg. The

Russian general replied, that a compliance with this demand exceeded his

powers; but he immediately proposed to send Wolkonsky with the letter

from Napoleon to Alexander, and offered an armistice till the return of

that officer. He accompanied these proposals with pacific protestations,

which were repeated by all his generals.

"According to their account," they all deplored the continuance of the

war. And for what reason? Their nations, like their Emperors, ought to

esteem, to love, and to be allies of one another. It was their ardent

wish that a speedy peace might arrive from Petersburg. Wolkonsky could

not make "haste enough." They pressed round Lauriston, drawing him

aside, taking him by the hand, and lavishing upon him those caressing

manners which they have inherited from Asia.

It was soon demonstrated that the chief point in which they were all

agreed was to deceive Murat and his Emperor; and in this they succeeded.

These details transported Napoleon with joy. Credulous from hope,

perhaps from despair, he was for some moments dazzled by these

appearances; eager to escape from the inward feeling which oppressed

him, he seemed desirous to deaden it by resigning himself to an

expansive joy. He summoned all his generals; he triumphantly "announced

to them a very speedy peace. They had but to wait another fortnight.

None but himself was acquainted with the Russian character. On the

receipt of his letter, Petersburg would be full of bonfires."

But the armistice proposed by Kutusoff was unsatisfactory to him, and he

ordered Murat to break it instantly; but notwithstanding, it continued

to be observed, the cause of which is unknown.

This armistice was a singular one. If either party wished to break it,

three hours notice was to be sufficient. It was confined to the fronts

of the two camps, but did not extend to their flanks. Such at least was

the interpretation put upon it by the Russians. We could not bring up a

convoy, or send out a foraging party, without fighting; so that the war

continued everywhere, excepting where it could be favourable to us.

In the first of the succeeding days, Murat took it into his head to show

himself at the enemy's advanced posts. There, he was gratified by the

notice which his fine person, his reputation for bravery, and his rank

procured him. The Russian officers took good care not to displease him;

they were profuse of all the marks of respect calculated to strengthen

his illusion. He could give his orders to their vedettes just as he did

to the French. If he took a fancy to any part of the ground which they

occupied, they cheerfully gave it up to him.

Some Cossack chiefs even went so far as to affect enthusiasm, and to

tell him that they had ceased to acknowledge any other as Emperor but

him who reigned at Moscow. Murat believed for a moment that they would

no longer fight against him. He went even farther. Napoleon was heard to

exclaim, while reading his letters, "Murat, King of the Cossacks! What

folly!" The most extravagant ideas were conceived by men on whom fortune

had lavished all sorts of favours.

As for the Emperor, who could scarcely be deceived, he had but a few

moments of a factitious joy. He soon complained "that an annoying

warfare of partizans hovered around him; that notwithstanding all these

pacific demonstrations, he was sensible that bodies of Cossacks were

prowling on his flanks and in his rear. Had not one hundred and fifty

dragoons of his old guard been surprised and routed, by a number of

these barbarians? And this two days after the armistice, on the road to

Mojaisk, on his line of operation, that by which the army communicated

with its magazines, its reinforcements, its depôts, and himself with

Europe!"

In fact two convoys had just fallen into the enemy's hands on that road:

one through the negligence of its commander, who put an end to his life

in despair; and the other through the cowardice of an officer, who was

about to be punished when the retreat commenced. To the destruction of

the army he owed his escape.

Our soldiers, and especially our cavalry, were obliged every morning to

go to a great distance in quest of provisions for the evening and the

next day; and as the environs of Moscow and Vinkowo became gradually

more and more drained, they were daily necessitated to extend their

excursions. Both men and horses returned worn out with fatigue, that is

to say such of them as returned at all; for we had to fight for every

bushel of rye, and for every truss of forage. It was a series of

incessant surprises, skirmishes, and losses. The peasantry took a part

in it. They punished with death such of their number as the prospect of

gain had allured to our camp with provisions. Others set fire to their

own villages, to drive our foragers out of them, and to give them up to

the Cossacks whom they had previously summoned, and who kept us there in

a state of siege.

It was the peasantry also who took Vereïa, a town in the neighbourhood

of Moscow. One of their priests is said to have planned and executed

this _coup-de-main_. He armed the inhabitants, obtained some troops from

Kutusoff; then on the 10th of October, before daybreak, he caused the

signal of a false attack to be given in one quarter, while in another he

himself rushed upon our palisades, destroyed them, penetrated into the

town, and put the whole garrison to the sword.

Thus the war was every where; in our front, on our flanks and in our

rear: the army was weakening, and the enemy becoming daily more

enterprising. This conquest was destined to fare like many others, which

are won in the mass, and lost in detail.

Murat himself at length grew uneasy. In these daily skirmishes he saw

half of the remnant of his cavalry melted away. At the advanced posts,

or on meeting with our officers, those of the Russians, either from

weariness, vanity, or military frankness carried to indiscretion,

exaggerated the disasters which threatened us. They showed us those

"wild-looking horses, scarcely at all broken in, whose long manes swept

the dust of the plain. Did not this tell us that a numerous cavalry was

joining them from all quarters, while ours was gradually perishing? Did

not the continual discharges of fire-arms within their line apprise us

that a multitude of recruits were there training under favour of the

armistice?"

And in fact, notwithstanding the long journies which they had to make,

all these recruits joined the army. There was no occasion to defer

calling them together as in other years, till deep snows, obstructing

all the roads excepting the high road, rendered their desertion

impossible. Not one failed to obey the national appeal; all Russia rose:

mothers, it was said, wept for joy on learning that their sons had been

selected for soldiers: they hastened to acquaint them with this glorious

intelligence, and even accompanied them to see them marked with the sign

of the Crusaders, to hear them cry, _'Tis the will of God!_

The Russian officers added, "that they were particularly astonished at

our security on the approach of their mighty winter, which was their

natural and most formidable ally, and which they expected every moment:

they pitied us and urged us to fly. In a fortnight, your nails will drop

off, and your arms will fall from your benumbed and half-dead fingers."

The language of some of the Cossack chiefs was also remarkable. They

asked our officers, "if they had not, in their own country, corn enough,

air enough, graves enough--in short, room enough to live and die? Why

then did they come so far from home to throw away their lives and to

fatten a foreign soil with their blood?" They added, that "this was a

robbery of their native land, which, while living, it is our duty to

cultivate, to defend and to embellish; and to which after our death we

owe our bodies, which we received from it, which it has fed, and which

in their turn ought to feed it."

The Emperor was not ignorant of these warnings, but he would not suffer

his resolution to be shaken by them. The uneasiness which had again

seized him betrayed itself in angry orders. It was then that he caused

the churches of the Kremlin to be stripped of every thing that could

serve for a trophy to the grand army. These objects, devoted to

destruction by the Russians themselves, belonged, he said, to the

conquerors by the two-fold right conferred by victory, and still more by

the conflagration.

It required long efforts to remove the gigantic cross from the steeple

of Ivan the Great, to the possession of which the Russians attached the

salvation of their empire. The Emperor determined that it should adorn

the dome of the invalids, at Paris. During the work it was remarked that

a great number of ravens kept flying round this cross, and that

Napoleon, weary of their hoarse croaking, exclaimed, that "it seemed as

if these flocks of ill-omened birds meant to defend it." We cannot

pretend to tell all that he thought in this critical situation, but it

is well known that he was accessible to every kind of presentiment.

His daily excursions, always illumined by a brilliant sun, in which he

strove himself to perceive and to make others recognize his star, did

not amuse him. To the sullen silence of inanimate Moscow was superadded

that of the surrounding deserts, and the still more menacing silence of

Alexander. It was not the faint sound of the footsteps of our soldiers

wandering in this vast sepulchre, that could rouse our Emperor from his

reverie, and snatch him from his painful recollections and still more

painful anticipations.

His nights in particular became irksome to him. He passed part of them

with Count Daru. It was then only that he admitted the danger of his

situation. "From Wilna to Moscow what submission, what point of support,

rest or retreat, marks his power? It is a vast, bare and desert field of

battle, in which his diminished army is imperceptible, insulated, and as

it were lost in the horrors of an immense void. In this country of

foreign manners and religion, he has not conquered a single individual;

he is in fact master only of the ground on which he stands. That which

he has just quitted and left behind him is no more his than that which

he has not yet reached. Insufficient for these vast deserts, he is lost

as it were in their immense space."

He then reviewed the different resolutions of which he still had the

choice. "People imagined," he said, "that he had nothing to do but

march, without considering that it would take a month to refit his army

and to evacuate his hospitals; that if he relinquished his wounded, the

Cossacks would celebrate daily triumphs over his sick and his

stragglers. He would appear to fly. All Europe would resound with the

report! Europe, which envied him, which was seeking a rival under whom

to rally, and which imagined that it had found such a rival in

Alexander."

Then appreciating all the power which he derived from the notion of his

infallibility, he shuddered at the idea of giving it the first blow.

"What a frightful series of dangerous wars would date from his first

retrograde step! Let not then his inactivity be censured! As if I did

not know," added he, "that in a military point of view Moscow is of no

value! But Moscow is not a military position, it is a political

position. People look upon me as general there, when in fact I am

Emperor!" He then exclaimed that "in politics a person ought never to

recede, never to retrograde, never to admit himself to be wrong, as it

lessened his consideration; that when mistaken, he ought to persevere,

in order to give him the appearance of being in the right."

On this account he adhered to his own opinion with that tenacity which,

on other occasions, was his best quality, but in this case his worst

defect.

His distress meanwhile increased. He knew that he could not rely on the

Prussian army: an intimation from too authentic a source, addressed to

Berthier, extinguished his confidence in the support of the Austrians.

He was sensible that Kutusoff was playing with him, but he had gone so

far, that he could neither advance nor stay where he was, nor retreat,

nor fight with honour and success. Thus alternately impelled and held

back by all that can decide and dissuade, he remained upon those ashes,

ceasing to hope, but continuing to desire.

The letter of which Lauriston was the bearer had been dispatched on the

6th of October; the answer to it could scarcely arrive before the 20th;

and yet in spite of so many threatening demonstrations, the pride, the

policy, and perhaps the health of Napoleon induced him to pursue the

worst of all courses, that of waiting for this answer, and of trusting

to time which was destroying him. Daru, like his other grandees, was

astonished to find in him no longer that prompt decision, variable and

rapid as the circumstances that called it forth; they asserted, that his

genius could no longer accommodate itself to them; they placed it to the

account of his natural obstinacy, which led to his elevation, and was

likely to cause his downfall.

But in this extremely critical warlike position, which by its

complication with a political position, became the most delicate which

ever existed, it was not to be expected that a character like his, which

had hitherto been so great from its unshaken constancy, would make a

speedy renunciation of the object which he had proposed to himself ever

since he left Witepsk.

CHAP. XI.

Napoleon however, was completely aware of his situation. To him every

thing seemed lost if he receded in the face of astonished Europe, and

every thing saved if he could yet overcome Alexander in determination.

He appreciated but too well the means that were left him to shake the

constancy of his rival; he knew that the number of effective troops,

that his situation, the season, in short every thing would become daily

more and more unfavourable to him; but he reckoned upon that force of

illusion which gave him his renown. Till that day he had borrowed from

it a real and never-failing strength; he endeavoured therefore to keep

up by specious arguments the confidence of his people, and perhaps also

the faint hope that was yet left to himself.

Moscow, empty of inhabitants, no longer furnished him with any thing to

lay hold of. "It is no doubt a misfortune," said he, "but this

misfortune is not without its advantage. Had it been otherwise, he would

not have been able to keep order in so large a city, to overawe a

population of three hundred thousand souls, and to sleep in the Kremlin

without having his throat cut. They have left us nothing but ruins, but

at least we are quiet among them. Millions have no doubt slipped through

our hands, but how many millions is Russia losing! Her commerce is

ruined for a century to come. The nation is thrown back fifty years;

this, of itself, is an important result. When the first moment of

enthusiasm is past, this reflexion will fill them with consternation."

The conclusion which he drew was, that so violent a shock would convulse

the throne of Alexander, and force that prince to sue for peace.

If he reviewed his different _corps d'armée_, as their reduced

battalions now presented but a narrow front, which he had traversed in a

moment, this diminution vexed him; and whether he wished to dissemble

for the sake of his enemies or his own people, he declared that the

practice hitherto pursued, of ranging the men three deep, was wrong, and

that two were sufficient; he therefore ordered that in future his

infantry should be drawn up in two ranks only.

Nay, more, he insisted that the inflexibility of the _states of

situation_ should give way to this illusion. He disputed their results.

The obstinacy of Count Lobau could not overcome his: he was desirous no

doubt of making his aide-de-camp understand what he wished others to

believe, and that nothing could shake his resolution.

Murat, nevertheless, transmitted to him tidings of the distress of his

advanced guard. They terrified Berthier; but Napoleon sent for the

officer who brought them, pressed him with his interrogatories, daunted

him with his looks, brow-beat him with his incredulity. The assertions

of Murat's envoy lost much of their assurance. Napoleon took advantage

of his hesitation to keep up the hopes of Berthier, and to persuade him

that matters were not yet so very urgent; and he sent back the officer

to Murat's camp with the opinion which he would no doubt propagate, that

the Emperor was immoveable, that he doubtless had his reasons for thus

persisting, and that they must all redouble their exertions.

Meanwhile the attitude of his army seconded his wishes. Most of the

officers persevered in their confidence. The common soldiers, who,

seeing their whole lives in the present moment and expecting but little

from the future, concerned themselves but little about it, retained

their thoughtlessness, the most valuable of their qualities. The

rewards, however, which the Emperor bestowed profusely upon them in the

daily reviews, were received only with a sedate joy, mingled with some

degree of dejection. The vacant places that were just filled up were yet

dyed with blood. These favours were threatening.

On the other hand, ever since they had left Wilna many of them had

thrown away their winter garments, that they might load themselves with

provisions. Their shoes were worn by the length of the way, and the rest

of their apparel by the actions in which they had been engaged; but, in

spite of all, their attitude was still lofty. They carefully concealed

their wretched plight from the notice of the Emperor, and appeared

before him with their arms bright and in the best order. In this first

court of the palace of the Czars, eight hundred leagues from their

resources, and after so many battles and bivouacs, they were anxious to

appear still clean, ready and smart; for herein consists the pride of

the soldier: here they piqued themselves upon it the more on account of

the difficulty, in order to astonish, and because man prides himself on

every thing that requires extraordinary effort.

The Emperor complaisantly affected to know no better, catching at every

thing to keep up his hopes, when all at once the first snows fell. With

them fell all the illusions with which he had endeavoured to surround

himself. From that moment he thought of nothing but retreat, without,

however, pronouncing the word, and yet no positive order for it could be

obtained from him. He merely said, that in twenty days the army must be

in winter-quarters, and he urged the departure of his wounded. On this,

as on other occasions, he would not consent to the voluntary

relinquishment of any thing, however trifling; there was a deficiency of

horses for his artillery, now too numerous for an army so reduced; it

did not signify, and he flew into a passion at the proposal to leave

part of it in Moscow. "No; the enemy would make a trophy of it."--and he

insisted that every thing should go along with him.

In this desert country, he gave orders for the purchase of twenty

thousand horses, and he expected forage for two months to be provided,

on a tract where the most distant and dangerous excursions were not

sufficient for the supply of the passing day. Some of his officers were

astonished to hear orders which it was so impossible to execute; but we

have already seen that he sometimes issued such orders to deceive his

enemies, and most frequently to indicate to his own troops the extent of

his necessities, and the exertions which they ought to make for the

purpose of supplying them.

His distress manifested itself only in some paroxysms of ill humour. It

was in the morning at his levee. There, amid the assembled chiefs, in

whose anxious looks he imagined he could read disapprobation, he seemed

desirous to awe them by the severity of his attitude, by his sharp tone

and his abrupt language. From the paleness of his face, it was evident

that Truth, whose best time for obtaining a hearing is in the darkness

of night, had oppressed him grievously by her presence, and tired him

with her unwelcome light. Sometimes, on these occasions, his bursting

heart would overflow, and pour forth his sorrows around him by movements

of impatience; but so far from lightening his grief, he aggravated them

by those acts of injustice for which he reproached himself, and which he

was afterwards anxious to repair.

It was to Count Daru alone that he unbosomed himself frankly, but

without weakness. He said, "he should march upon Kutusoff, crush or

drive him back, and then turn suddenly towards Smolensk." Daru, who had

before approved this course, replied, that "it was now too late; that

the Russian army was reinforced, his own weakened; his victory

forgotten; that the moment his troops should turn their faces towards

France, they would slip away from him by degrees; that each soldier,

laden with booty, would try to get the start of the army, for the

purpose of selling it in France."--"What then is to be done?" exclaimed

the Emperor. "Remain here," replied Daru, "make one vast entrenched camp

of Moscow and pass the winter in it. He would answer for it that there

would be no want of bread and salt: the rest foraging on a large scale

would supply. Such of the horses as they could not procure food for

might be salted down. As to lodgings, if there were not houses enough,

the cellars might make up the deficiency. Here we might stay till the

return of spring, when our reinforcements and all Lithuania in arms

should come to relieve, to join us, and to complete the conquest."

After listening to this proposal the Emperor was for some time silent

and thoughtful; he then replied, "This is a lion's counsel! But what

would Paris say? what would they do there? what have they been doing for

the last three weeks that they have not heard from me? who knows what

would be the effect of a suspension of communications for six months!

No; France would not accustom itself to my absence, and Prussia and

Austria would take advantage of it."

Still Napoleon did not decide either to stay or to depart. Overcome in

this struggle of obstinacy, he deferred from day to day the avowal of

his defeat. Amid the dreadful storm of men and elements which was

gathering around him, his ministers and his aides-de-camp saw him pass

whole days in discussing the merits of some new verses which he had

received, or the regulations for the _Comédie Française_ at Paris, which

he took three evenings to finish. As they were acquainted with his deep

anxiety, they admired the strength of his genius, and the facility with

which he could take off or fix the whole force of his attention on

whatever he pleased.

It was merely remarked that he prolonged his meals, which had hitherto

been so simple and so short. He seemed desirous of stifling thought by

repletion. He would then pass whole hours, half reclined, as if torpid,

and awaiting, with a novel in his hand, the catastrophe of his terrible

history. On beholding this obstinate and inflexible character struggling

with impossibility, his officers would then observe to one another, that

having arrived at the summit of his glory, he no doubt foresaw that from

his first retrograde step would date its decline; that for this reason

he continued immoveable, clinging to and lingering a few moments longer

on this elevation.

Kutusoff, meanwhile, was gaining that time which we were losing. His

letters to Alexander described "his army as being in the midst of

abundance; his recruits arriving from all quarters and being trained;

his wounded recovering in the bosom of their families; the peasants,

some in arms, some on the look out from the tops of steeples, while

others were stealing into our habitations and even into the Kremlin.

Rostopchin received from them a daily report of what was passing at

Moscow, as before its capture. If they undertook to be our guides, it

was for the purpose of delivering us into his hands. His partizans were

every day bringing in some hundreds of prisoners. Every thing concurred

to destroy the enemy's army and to strengthen his own; to serve him and

to betray us; in a word, the campaign, which was over for us, was but

just about to begin for them."

Kutusoff neglected no advantage. He made his camp ring with the news of

the victory of Salamanca. "The French," said he, "are expelled from

Madrid. The hand of the Most High presses heavily upon Napoleon. Moscow

will be his prison, his grave, and that of all his grand army. We shall

soon take France in Russia!" It was in such language that the Russian

general addressed his troops and his Emperor; and nevertheless he still

kept up appearances with Murat. At once bold and crafty, he contrived

slowly to prepare a sudden and impetuous warfare, and to cover his plans

for our destruction with demonstrations of kindness and honeyed words.

At length, after several days of illusion, the charm was dispelled. A

Cossack completely dissolved it. This barbarian fired at Murat, at the

moment when that prince came as usual to show himself at the advanced

posts. Murat was exasperated; he declared to Miloradowitch that an

armistice which was incessantly violated was at an end; and that

thenceforward each ought to put confidence in himself alone.

At the same time he apprised the Emperor, that a woody country on his

left might favour attempts against his flank and rear; that his first

line, backed against a ravine, might be precipitated into it; that in

short the position which he occupied, in advance of a defile, was

dangerous, and rendered a retrograde movement absolutely necessary. But

Napoleon would not consent to this step, though he had at first pointed

out Woronowo as a more secure position. In this war, still in his view

rather political than military, he dreaded above all the appearance of

receding. He preferred risking every thing.

At the same time, on the 13th of October, he sent back Lauriston to

Murat, to examine the position of the vanguard. As to the Emperor,

either from a tenacious adherence to his first hope, or that any

disposition which might be construed into a preparation for retreat,

equally shocked his pride and his policy, a singular negligence was

remarked in his preparations for departure. He nevertheless thought of

it, for that very day he traced his plan of retreat by Woloklamsk,

Zubtzow, and Bieloé, on Witepsk. A moment afterwards he dictated another

on Smolensk. Junot received orders to burn on the 21st, at Kolotskoi,

all the muskets of the wounded, and to blow up the ammunition waggons.

D'Hilliers was to occupy Elnia, and to form magazines at that place. It

was not till the 17th, at Moscow, that Berthier thought of causing

leather to be distributed for the first time among the troops.

This major-general was a wretched substitute for his principal on this

critical occasion. In a strange country and climate, he recommended no

new precaution, and he expected the minutest details to be dictated by

his Emperor. They were forgotten. This negligence or want of foresight

was attended with fatal consequences. In an army, each division of which

was commanded by a marshal, a prince, or even a king, one relied perhaps

too much on the other. Besides, Berthier gave no orders of himself; he

thought it enough to repeat exactly the very letter of Napoleon's

commands; for, as to their spirit, either from fatigue or habit, he was

incessantly confounding the positive with the conjectural parts of those

instructions.

Napoleon meanwhile rallied his _corps d'armée_. The reviews which he

held in the Kremlin were more frequent; he formed all the dismounted

cavalry into battalions, and lavishly distributed rewards. The division

of Claparede, the trophies and all the wounded that could be removed,

set out for Mojaisk; the rest were collected in the great foundling

hospital; French surgeons were placed there; and the Russian wounded,

intermixed with ours, were intended to serve them for a safeguard.

But it was too late. Amid these preparations, and at the moment when

Napoleon was reviewing Ney's divisions in the first court of the

Kremlin, a report was all at once circulated around him, that the report

of cannon was heard towards Vinkowo. It was some time before any one

durst apprise him of the circumstance; some from incredulity or

uncertainty, and dreading the first movement of his impatience; others

from love of ease, hesitating to provoke a terrible signal, or

apprehensive of being sent to verify this assertion, and of exposing

themselves to a fatiguing excursion.

Duroc, at length, took courage. The Emperor was at first agitated, but

quickly recovering himself, he continued the review. An aide-de-camp,

young Beranger, arrived shortly after with the intelligence that Murat's

first line had been surprised and overthrown, his left turned by favour

of the woods, his flank attacked, his retreat cut off; that twelve

pieces of cannon, twenty ammunition waggons, and thirty waggons

belonging to the train were taken, two generals killed, three or four

thousand men lost and the baggage; and lastly, that the King was

wounded. He had not been able to rescue the relics of his advanced guard

from the enemy, but by repeatedly charging their numerous troops which

already occupied the high road in his rear, his only retreat.

Our honour however was saved. The attack in front, directed by Kutusoff,

was feeble; Poniatowski, at some leagues distance on the right, made a

glorious resistance; Murat and his carbineers, by supernatural

exertions, checked Bagawout, who was ready to penetrate our left flank,

and restored the fortune of the day. Claparede and Latour-Maubourg

cleared the defile of Spaskaplia, two leagues in the rear of our line,

which was already occupied by Platof. Two Russian generals were killed,

and others wounded: the loss of the enemy was considerable, but the

advantage of the attack, our cannon, our position, the victory in short,

were theirs.

As for Murat, he no longer had an advanced guard. The armistice had

destroyed half the remnant of his cavalry. This engagement finished it;

the survivors, emaciated with hunger, were so few as scarcely to furnish

a charge. Thus had the war recommenced. It was now the 18th of October.

At these tidings Napoleon recovered the fire of his early years. A

thousand orders general and particular, all differing, yet all in unison

and all necessary, burst at once from his impetuous genius. Night had

not yet arrived, and the whole army was already in motion for Woronowo;

Broussier was sent in the direction of Fominskoë, and Poniatowski toward

Medyn. The Emperor himself quitted Moscow before daylight on the 19th of

October. "Let us march upon Kalouga," said he, "and woe be to those whom

I meet with by the way!"

BOOK IX.

CHAP. I.

In the southern part of Moscow, near one of its gates, one of its most

extensive suburbs is divided by two high roads; both run to Kalouga: the

one, that on the right, is the more ancient; the other is new. It was on

the first that Kutusoff had just beaten Murat. By the same road Napoleon

left Moscow on the 19th of October, announcing to his officers his

intention to return to the frontiers of Poland by Kalouga, Medyn,

Yuknow, Elnia, and Smolensk. One of them, Rapp, observed that "it was

late, and that winter might overtake them by the way." The Emperor

replied, "that he had been obliged to allow time to the soldiers to

recruit themselves, and to the wounded collected in Moscow, Mojaisk, and

Kolotskoi, to move off towards Smolensk." Then pointing to a still

serene sky, he asked, "if in that brilliant sun they did not recognize

his star?" But this appeal to his fortune, and the sinister expression

of his looks, belied the security which he affected.

Napoleon entered Moscow with ninety thousand fighting men, and twenty

thousand sick and wounded, and quitted it with more than a hundred

thousand combatants. He left there only twelve hundred sick. His stay,

notwithstanding daily losses, had therefore served to rest his infantry,

to complete his stores, to augment his force by ten thousand men, and to

protect the recovery or the retreat of a great part of his wounded. But

on this very first day he could perceive, that his cavalry and artillery

might be said rather to crawl than to march.