often held forth to its sufferings. The soldiers pointed it out to each
other. There was that land of promise where their famine was to find
abundance, their fatigue rest; where bivouacs in a cold of nineteen
degrees would be forgotten in houses warmed by good fires. There they
should enjoy refreshing sleep; there they might repair their apparel;
there they should be furnished with new shoes and garments adapted to
the climate.
At this sight, the corps _d'élite_, some soldiers, and the veteran
regiments, alone kept their ranks; the rest ran forward with all
possible speed. Thousands of men, chiefly unarmed, covered the two steep
banks of the Borysthenes: they crowded in masses round the lofty walls
and gates of the city; but their disorderly multitude, their haggard
faces, begrimed with dirt and smoke, their tattered uniforms and the
grotesque habiliments which they had substituted for them, in short,
their strange, hideous look, and their extreme ardour, excited alarm. It
was conceived that if the irruption of this crowd, maddened with hunger,
were not repelled, a general pillage would be the consequence, and the
gates were closed against it.
It was also hoped that by this rigour these men would be forced to
rally. A horrid struggle between order and disorder then commenced in
the remnant of that unfortunate army. In vain did some entreat, weep,
conjure, threaten, strive to burst the gates, and drop down dead at the
feet of their comrades, who had orders to repel them; they found them
inexorable: they were forced to await the arrival of the first troops,
who were still officered and in order.
These were the old and young guard. It was not till afterwards that the
disbanded men were allowed to enter; they and the other corps which
arrived in succession, from the 8th to the 14th, believed that their
entry had been delayed merely to give more rest and more provisions to
this guard. Their sufferings rendered them unjust; they execrated it.
"Were they then to be for ever sacrificed to this privileged class,
fellows kept for mere parade, who were never foremost but at reviews,
festivities, and distributions? Was the army always to put up with their
leavings; and in order to obtain them, was it always to wait till they
had glutted themselves?" It was impossible to tell them in reply, that
to attempt to save all was the way to lose all; that it was necessary to
keep at least one corps entire, and to give the preference to that which
in the last extremity would be capable of making the most powerful
effort.
At last, however, these poor creatures were admitted into that Smolensk
for which they had so ardently wished; they had left the banks of the
Borysthenes strewed with the dying bodies of the weakest of their
number; impatience and several hours' waiting had finished them. They
left others on the icy steep which they had to climb to reach the upper
town. The rest ran to the magazines, and there more of them expired
while they beset the doors; for they were again repulsed. "Who were
they? to what corps did they belong? what had they to show for it? The
persons who had to distribute the provisions were responsible for them;
they had orders to deliver them only to authorized officers, bringing
receipts, for which they could exchange the rations committed to their
care." Those who applied had no officers; nor could they tell where
their regiments were. Two thirds of the army were in this predicament.
These unfortunate men then dispersed through the streets, having no
longer any other hope than pillage. But horses dissected to the very
bones every where denoted a famine; the doors and windows of the houses
had been all broken and torn away to feed the bivouac-fires: they found
no shelter in them, no winter-quarters prepared, no wood. The sick and
wounded were left in the streets, in the carts which had brought them.
It was again, it was still the fatal high-road, passing through an empty
name; it was a new bivouac among deceitful ruins; colder even than the
forests which they had just quitted.
Then only did these disorganized troops seek their colours; they
rejoined them for a moment in order to obtain food; but all the bread
that could be baked had been distributed: there was no more biscuit, no
butcher's meat, rye-flour, dry vegetables, and spirits were delivered
out to them. It required the most strenuous efforts to prevent the
detachments of the different corps from murdering one another at the
doors of the magazines: and when, after long formalities, their wretched
fare was delivered to them, the soldiers refused to carry it to their
regiments; they fell upon their sacks, snatched out of them a few pounds
of flour, and ran to hide themselves till they had devoured it. The same
was the case with the spirits. Next day the houses were found full of
the bodies of these unfortunate wretches.
In short, that fatal Smolensk, which the army had looked forward to as
the term of its sufferings, marked only their commencement.
Inexpressible hardships awaited us: we had yet to march forty days under
that yoke of iron. Some, already overloaded with present miseries, sunk
under the alarming prospect of those which awaited them. Others revolted
against their destiny; finding they had nothing to rely on but
themselves, they resolved to live at any rate.
Henceforward, according as they found themselves the stronger or the
weaker, they plundered their dying companions by violence or stealth, of
their subsistence, their garments, and even the gold, with which they
had filled their knapsacks instead of provisions. These wretches, whom
despair had made robbers, then threw away their arms to save their
infamous booty, profiting by the general condition, an obscure name, a
uniform no longer distinguishable, and night, in short, by all kinds of
obscurities, favourable to cowardice and guilt. If works already
published had not exaggerated these horrors, I should have passed in
silence details so disgusting; for these atrocities were rare, and
justice was dealt to the most criminal.
The Emperor arrived on the 9th of November, amid this scene of
desolation. He shut himself up in one of the houses in the new square,
and never quitted it till the 14th, to continue his retreat. He had
calculated upon fifteen days' provisions and forage for an army of one
hundred thousand men; there was not more than half the quantity of
flour, rice, and spirits, and no meat at all. Cries of rage were set up
against one of the persons appointed to provide these supplies. The
commissary saved his life only by crawling for a long time on his knees
at the feet of Napoleon. Probably the reasons which he assigned did more
for him than his supplications.
"When he arrived," he said, "bands of stragglers, whom, when advancing,
the army left behind it, had, as it were, involved Smolensk in terror
and destruction. The men died there of hunger as upon the road. When
some degree of order had been restored, the Jews alone had at first
offered to furnish the necessary provisions. More generous motives
subsequently engaged the aid of some Lithuanian noblemen. At length the
foremost of the long convoys of provisions collected in Germany
appeared. These were the carriages called _comtoises_, and were the only
ones which had traversed the sands of Lithuania; they brought no more
than two hundred quintals of flour and rice; several hundred German and
Italian bullocks had also arrived with them.
"Meanwhile the accumulation of dead bodies in the houses, courts, and
gardens, and their unwholesome effluvia, infected the air. The dead were
killing the living. The civil officers as well as many of the military
were attacked: some had become to all appearance idiots, weeping or
fixing their hollow eyes stedfastly on the ground. There were others
whose hair had become stiff, erect, and ropy, and who, amidst a torrent
of blasphemies, a horrid convulsion, or a still more frightful laugh,
had dropped down dead.
"At the same time it had been found necessary to kill without delay the
greatest part of the cattle brought from Germany and Italy. These
animals would neither walk any farther, nor eat. Their eyes, sunk in
their sockets, were dull and motionless. They were killed without
seeking to avoid the fatal blow. Other misfortunes followed: several
convoys were intercepted, magazines taken, and a drove of eight hundred
oxen had just been carried off from Krasnoë."
This man added, that "regard ought also to be had to the great quantity
of detachments which had passed through Smolensk; to the stay which
Marshal Victor, twenty-eight thousand men, and about fifteen thousand
sick, had made there; to the multitude of posts and marauders whom the
insurrection and the approach of the enemy had driven back into the
city. All had subsisted upon the magazines; it had been necessary to
deliver out nearly sixty thousand rations per day; and lastly,
provisions and cattle had been sent forward towards Moscow as far as
Mojaisk and towards Kalouga as far as Yelnia."
Many of these allegations were well founded. A chain of other magazines
had been formed from Smolensk to Minsk and Wilna. These two towns were
in a still greater degree than Smolensk, centres of provisioning, of
which the fortresses of the Vistula formed the first line. The total
quantity of provisions distributed over this space was incalculable; the
efforts for transporting them thither gigantic, and the result little
better than nothing. They were insufficient in that immensity.
Thus great expeditions are crushed by their own weight. Human limits had
been surpassed; the genius of Napoleon, in attempting to soar above
time, climate, and distances, had, as it were, lost itself in space:
great as was its measure, it had been beyond it.
For the rest, he was passionate, from necessity. He had not deceived
himself in regard to the inadequacy of his supplies. Alexander alone had
deceived him. Accustomed to triumph over every thing by the terror of
his name, and the astonishment produced by his audacity, he had ventured
his army, himself, his fortune, his all, on a first movement of
Alexander's. He was still the same man as in Egypt, at Marengo, Ulm, and
Esslingen; it was Ferdinand Cortes; it was the Macedonian burning his
ships, and above all solicitous, in spite of his troops, to penetrate
still farther into unknown Asia; finally, it was Cæsar risking his whole
fortune in a fragile bark.
BOOK X.
CHAP. I.
The surprise of Vinkowo, however, that unexpected attack of Kutusoff in
front of Moscow, was only the spark of a great conflagration. On the
same day, at the same hour, the whole of Russia had resumed the
offensive. The general plan of the Russians was at once developed. The
inspection of the map became truly alarming.
On the 18th of October, at the very moment that the cannon of Kutusoff
were destroying Napoleon's illusions of glory and of peace,
Wittgenstein, at one hundred leagues in the rear of his left wing, had
thrown himself upon Polotsk; Tchitchakof, behind his right, and two
hundred leagues farther off, had taken advantage of his superiority over
Schwartzenberg; and both of them, one descending from the north, and the
other ascending from the south, were endeavouring to unite their forces
at Borizof.
This was the most difficult passage in our retreat, and both these
hostile armies were already close to it, at the time that Napoleon was
at the distance of twelve days' journey, with the winter, famine, and
the grand Russian army between them.
At Smolensk it was only suspected that Minsk was in danger; the officers
who were present at the loss of Polotsk gave the following details
respecting it:--
Ever since the battle of the 18th of August, which raised him to the
dignity of marshal, Saint Cyr had remained on the Russian bank of the
Düna, in possession of Polotsk, and of an entrenched camp in front of
its walls. This camp showed how easy it would have been for the whole
army to have taken up its winter quarters on the frontiers of Lithuania.
Its barracks, constructed by our soldiers, were more spacious than the
houses of the Russian peasantry, and equally warm: they were beautiful
military villages, properly entrenched, and equally protected from the
winter and from the enemy.
For two months the two armies carried on merely a war of partizans. With
the French its object was to extend themselves through the country in
search of provisions; on the part of the Russians, to strip them of what
they found. A war of this sort was entirely in favour of the Russians,
as our people, being ignorant of the country as well as of the language,
even of the names of the places where they attempted to enter, were
incessantly betrayed by the inhabitants, and even by their guides.
In consequence of these checks, and of hunger, and disease, the strength
of Saint Cyr's army was diminished one half, while that of Wittgenstein
had been more than doubled by the arrival of recruits. By the middle of
October, the Russian army at that point amounted to fifty-two thousand
men, while ours was only seventeen thousand. In this number must be
included the 6th corps, or the Bavarians, reduced from twenty-two
thousand to eighteen hundred men, and two thousand cavalry. The latter
were then absent; Saint Cyr being without forage, and uneasy respecting
the attempts of the enemy upon his flanks, had sent them to a
considerable distance up the river, with orders to return by the left
bank, in order to procure subsistence and to gain intelligence.
For this marshal was afraid of having his right turned by Wittgenstein
and his left by Steingell, who was advancing at the head of two
divisions of the army of Finland, which had recently arrived at Riga.
Saint Cyr had sent a very pressing letter to Macdonald, requesting him
to use his efforts to stop the march of these Russians, who would have
to pass his army, and to send him a reinforcement of fifteen thousand
men; or if he would not do that, to come himself with succours to that
amount, and take the command. In the same letter he also submitted to
Macdonald all his plans of attack and defence. But Macdonald did not
feel himself authorized to operate so important a movement without
orders. He distrusted Yorck, whom he perhaps suspected of an intention
of allowing the Russians to get possession of his park of besieging
artillery. His reply was that he must first of all think of defending
that, and he remained stationary.
In this state of affairs, the Russians became daily more and more
emboldened; and finally, on the 17th of October, the out-posts of Saint
Cyr were driven into his camp, and Wittgenstein possessed himself of all
the outlets of the woods which surround Polotsk. He threatened us with a
battle, which he did not believe we would venture to accept.
The French marshal, without orders from his Emperor, had been too late
in his determination to entrench himself. His works were only marked out
as much as was necessary, (not to cover their defenders), but to point
out the place where their efforts would be principally required. Their
left, resting on the Düna, and defended by batteries placed on the left
bank of the river, was the strongest. Their right was weak. The Polota,
a stream which flows into the Düna, separated them.
Wittgenstein sent Yatchwil to threaten the least accessible side, and
on the 18th he himself advanced against the other; at first with some
rashness, for two French squadrons, the only ones which Saint Cyr had
retained, overthrew his column in advance, took its artillery, and made
himself prisoner, it is said, without being aware of it; so that they
abandoned this general-in-chief, as an insignificant prize, when they
were forced by numbers to retreat.
Rushing from their woods, the Russians then exhibited their whole force,
and attacked Saint Cyr in the most furious manner. In one of the first
discharges of their musketry, the marshal was wounded by a ball. He
remained, however, in the midst of the troops, but being unable to
support himself, was obliged to be carried about. Wittgenstein's
determination to carry this point lasted as long as it was daylight. The
redoubts, which were defended by Maison, were taken and retaken seven
times. Seven times did Wittgenstein believe himself the conqueror; Saint
Cyr finally wore him out. Legrand and Maison remained in possession of
their entrenchments, which were bathed with the blood of the Russians.
But while on the right the victory appeared completely gained, on the
left every thing seemed to be lost: the eagerness of the Swiss and the
Croats was the cause of this reverse. Their rivalry had up to that
period wanted an opportunity of showing itself. From a too great anxiety
to show themselves worthy of belonging to the grand army, they acted
rashly. Having been placed carelessly in front of their position, in
order to draw on Yacthwil, they had, instead of abandoning the ground
which had been prepared for his destruction, rushed forward to meet his
masses, and were overwhelmed by numbers. The French artillery, being
prevented from firing on this medley, became useless, and our allies
were driven back into Polotsk.
It was then that the batteries on the left bank of the Düna discovered,
and were able to commence firing on the enemy, but instead of arresting,
they only quickened his march. The Russians under Yacthwil, in order to
avoid that fire, threw themselves with great rapidity into the ravine of
the Polota, by which they were about to penetrate into the town, when at
last three cannon, which were hastily directed against the head of their
column, and a last effort of the Swiss, succeeded in driving them back.
At five o'clock the battle terminated; the Russians retreated on all
sides into their woods, and fourteen thousand men had beat fifty
thousand.
The night which followed was perfectly tranquil, even to Saint Cyr. His
cavalry were deceived, and brought him wrong intelligence; they assured
him that no enemy had passed the Düna either above or below his
position: this was incorrect, as Steingell and thirteen thousand
Russians had crossed the river at Drissa, and gone up the left bank,
with the object of taking the marshal in the rear, and shutting him up
in Polotsk, between them, the Düna, and Wittgenstein.
The morning of the 19th exhibited the latter under arms, and making
every disposition for an attack, the signal for which he appeared to be
afraid of giving. Saint Cyr, however, was not to be deceived by these
appearances; he was satisfied that it was not his feeble entrenchments
which kept back an enterprising and numerous enemy, but that he was
doubtless waiting the effect of some manoeuvre, the signal of an
important co-operation, which could only be effected in his rear.
In fact, about ten o'clock in the morning, an aide-de-camp came in full
gallop from the other side of the river, with the intelligence, that
another hostile army, that of Steingell, was marching rapidly along the
Lithuanian side of the river, and that it had defeated the French
cavalry. He required immediate assistance, without which this fresh army
would speedily get in the rear of the camp and surround it. The news of
this engagement soon reached the army of Wittgenstein, where it excited
the greatest joy, while it carried dismay into the French camp. Their
position became dreadfully critical. Let any one figure to himself these
brave fellows, hemmed in, against a wooden town, by a force treble their
number, with a great river behind them, and no other means of retreat
but a bridge, the passage from which was threatened by another army.
It was in vain that Saint Cyr then weakened his force by three
regiments, which he dispatched to the other side to meet Steingell, and
whose march he contrived to conceal from Wittgenstein's observation.
Every moment the noise of the former's artillery was approaching nearer
and nearer to Polotsk. The batteries, which from the left side protected
the French camp, were now turned round, ready to fire upon this new
enemy. At sight of this, loud shouts of joy burst out from the whole of
Wittgenstein's line; but that officer still remained immoveable. To make
him begin it was not merely necessary that he should _hear_ Steingell;
he seemed absolutely determined to _see_ him make his appearance.
Meanwhile, all Saint Cyr's generals, in consternation, were surrounding
him, and urging him to order a retreat, which would soon become
impossible. Saint Cyr refused; convinced that the 50,000 Russians before
him under arms, and on the tiptoe of expectation, only waited for his
first retrograde movement to dart upon him, he remained immoveable,
availing himself of their unaccountable inaction, and still flattering
himself that night would cover Polotsk with its shades before Steingell
could make his appearance.
He has since confessed, that never in his life was his mind in such a
state of agitation. A thousand times, in the course of these three hours
of suspense, he was seen looking at his watch and at the sun; as if he
could hasten his setting.
At last, when Steingell was within half an hour's march of Polotsk, when
he had only to make a few efforts to appear in the plain, to reach the
bridge of the town, and shut out Saint Cyr from the only outlet by which
he could escape from Wittgenstein, he halted. Soon after, a thick fog,
which the French looked upon as an interposition from heaven, preceded
the approach of night, and shut out the three armies from the sight of
each other.
Saint Cyr only waited for that moment. His numerous artillery was
already silently crossing the river, his divisions were about to follow
it and conceal their retreat, when the soldiers of Legrand, either from
habit, or regret at abandoning their camp entire to the enemy, set fire
to it; the other two divisions, fancying that this was a signal agreed
upon, followed their example, and in an instant the whole line was in a
blaze.
This fire disclosed their movement; the whole of Wittgenstein's
batteries immediately began their fire; his columns rushed forward, his
shells set fire to the town; the French troops were obliged to contend
every inch of ground with the flames, the fire throwing light on the
engagement the same as broad daylight. The retreat, however, was
effected in good order; on both sides the loss was great; but it was not
until three o'clock in the morning of the 20th of October that the
Russian eagle regained possession of Polotsk.
As good luck would have it, Steingell slept soundly at the noise of this
battle, although he might have heard even the shouts of the Russian
militia. He seconded the attack of Wittgenstein during that night as
little as Wittgenstein had seconded his the day before. It was not until
Wittgenstein had finished on the right side, that the bridge of Polotsk
was broken down, and Saint Cyr, with all his force on the left bank, and
then fully able to cope with Steingell, that the latter began to put
himself in motion. But De Wrede, with 6,000 French, surprised him in his
first movement, beat him back several leagues into the woods which he
had quitted, and took or killed 2,000 of his men.
CHAP. II.
Those three days were days of glory. Wittgenstein was repulsed,
Steingell defeated, and ten thousand Russians, with six generals, killed
or put _hors du combat_. But Saint Cyr was wounded, the offensive was
lost, confidence, joy, and plenty reigned in the enemy's corps,
despondency and scarcity in ours; it was necessary to fall back. The
army required a commander: De Wrede aspired to be so, but the French
generals refused even to enter into concert with that officer, from a
knowledge of his character, and a belief that it was impossible to go on
harmoniously with him. Amidst their jarring pretensions Saint Cyr,
although wounded, was obliged to retain the command of these two corps.
Immediately after, he gave orders to retreat on Smoliantzy by all the
roads leading to that place. He himself kept in the centre, regulating
the march of the different columns by that of each other. This was a
mode of retreat completely contrary to that which Napoleon had just
followed.
Saint Cyr's object was to find more provisions, to march with greater
freedom, and more concert; in short, to avoid that confusion which is so
common in the march of numerous columns, when troops, artillery, and
baggage are crowded together on one road. He completely succeeded. Ten
thousand French, Swiss, and Croats, with fifty thousand Russians at
their heels, retired slowly in four columns, without allowing themselves
to be broken, and kept Wittgenstein and Steingell from advancing more
than three marches in eight days.
By retreating in this manner towards the south, they covered the right
flank of the road from Orcha to Borizof, by which the Emperor was
returning from Moscow. One column only, that of the left, met with a
check. It was that of De Wrede and his fifteen hundred Bavarians,
augmented with a brigade of French cavalry, which he retained with him
in spite of Saint Cyr's orders. He marched at his own pleasure; his
wounded pride would no longer suffer him to yield obedience to others;
but it cost him the whole of his baggage. Afterwards, under pretence of
better serving the common cause by covering the line of operations from
Wilna to Witepsk, which the Emperor had abandoned, he separated himself
from the second corps, retreated by Klubokoe on Vileika, and made
himself useless.
The discontent of De Wrede had existed ever since the 19th of August. He
fancied that he had contributed so great a part to the victory of the
18th, that he thought it was made too little of in the report of the
following day. This feeling had rankled in his mind, and was increased
by repeated complaints, and by the instigation of a brother, who it was
said was serving in the Austrian army. Added to this, it was believed,
that at the last period of the retreat, the Saxon general, Thielmann,
had drawn him into his plans for the liberation of Germany.
This defection was scarcely felt at the time. The Duke of Belluno, with
twenty-five thousand men, hastened from Smolensk, and on the 31st of
October effected a junction with Saint Cyr in front of Smoliantzy, at
the very moment that Wittgenstein, ignorant of this junction, and
relying on his superior strength, had crossed the Lukolmlia, imprudently
engaged himself in defiles at his rear, and attacked our out-posts. It
only required a simultaneous effort of the two French corps to have
destroyed his army completely. The generals and soldiers of the second
corps were burning with ardour. But at the moment that victory was in
their hearts, and when, believing it before their eyes, they were
waiting for the signal to engage, Victor gave orders to retreat.
Whether this prudence, which was then considered unseasonable, arose
from his unacquaintance with a country, which he then saw for the first
time, or from his distrust of soldiers whom he had not yet tried, we
know not. It is possible that he did not feel himself justified in
risking a battle, the loss of which would certainly have involved that
of the grand army and its leader.
After falling back behind the Lukolmlia, and keeping on the defensive
the whole of the day, he took advantage of the night to gain Sienno. The
Russian general then became sensible of the peril of his position; it
was so critical, that he only took advantage of our retrograde movement,
and the discouragement which it occasioned, to effect his retreat.
The officers who gave us these details added, that ever since that time
Wittgenstein seemed to think of nothing but retaking Witepsk, and
keeping on the defensive. He probably thought it too rash to turn the
Berezina at its sources, in order to join Tchitchakof; for a vague
rumour had already reached us of the march of this army from the south
upon Minsk and Borizof, and of the defection of Schwartzenberg.
It was at Mikalewska, on the 6th of November, that unfortunate day when
he had just received information of Mallet's conspiracy, that Napoleon
was informed of the junction of the second and the ninth corps, and of
the unfortunate engagement at Czazniki. Irritated at the intelligence,
he sent orders to the Duke of Belluno immediately to drive Wittgenstein
behind the Düna, as the safety of the army depended upon it. He did not
conceal from the marshal that he had arrived at Smolensk with an army
harassed to death and his cavalry entirely dismounted.
Thus, therefore, the days of good fortune were passed, and from all
quarters nothing but disastrous intelligence arrived. On one side
Polotsk, the Düna, and Witepsk lost, and Wittgenstein already within
four days march of Borizof; on the other, towards Elnia, Baraguay
d'Hilliers defeated. That general had allowed the enemy to cut off the
brigade of Augereau, and to take the magazines, and the Elnia road, by
the possession of which Kutusoff was now enabled to anticipate us at
Krasnoë, as he had done at Wiazma.
At the same time, at one hundred leagues in advance of us,
Schwartzenberg informed the Emperor, that he was covering Warsaw; in
other words, that he had uncovered Minsk and Borizof, the magazine, and
the retreat of the grand army, and that probably, the Emperor of Austria
would deliver up his son-in-law to Russia.
At the same moment, in our rear and our centre, Prince Eugene was
conquered by the Wop; the draught-horses which had been waiting for us
at Smolensk were devoured by the soldiers; those of Mortier carried off
in a forage; the cattle at Krasnoë captured; the army exhibiting
frightful symptoms of disease; and at Paris the period of conspiracies
appeared to have returned; in short, every thing seemed to combine to
overwhelm Napoleon.
The daily reports which he received of the state of each corps of the
army were like so many bills of mortality; in these he saw his army,
which had conquered Moscow, reduced from an hundred and eighty thousand,
to thirty thousand men, still capable of fighting. To this mass of
calamities, he could only oppose an inert resistance, an impassable
firmness, and an unshaken attitude. His countenance remained the same;
he changed none of his habits, nothing in the form of his orders; in
reading them, you would have supposed that he had still several armies
under his command. He did not even expedite his march. Irritated only at
the prudence of Marshal Victor, he repeated his orders to him to attack
Wittgenstein, and thereby remove the danger which menaced his retreat.
As to Baraguay d'Hilliers, whom an officer had just accused, he had him
brought before him, and sent him off to Berlin, where that general,
overwhelmed by the fatigues of the retreat, and sinking under the weight
of chagrin, died before he was able to make his defence.
The unshaken firmness which the Emperor preserved was the only attitude
which became so great a spirit, and so irreparable a misfortune. But
what appears surprising, is, that he allowed fortune to strip him of
every thing, rather than sacrifice a part to save the rest. It was at
first without his orders that the commanders of corps burnt the baggage
and destroyed their artillery; he only allowed it to be done. If he
afterwards gave similar instructions, they were absolutely extorted from
him; he seemed as if he was tenacious, above every thing, that no action
of his should confess his defeat; either from a feeling that he thus
respected his misfortunes, and by his inflexibility set the example of
inflexible courage to those around him, or from that proud feeling of
men who have been long fortunate, which precipitates their downfall.
Smolensk, however, which was twice fatal to the army, was a place of
rest for some. During the respite which this afforded to their
sufferings, these were asking each other, "how it happened, that at
Moscow every thing had been forgotten; why there was so much useless
baggage; why so many soldiers had already died of hunger and cold under
the weight of their knapsacks, which were loaded with gold, instead of
food and raiment; and, above all, if three and thirty days rest had not
allowed sufficient time to make snow shoes for the artillery, cavalry,
and draught-horses, which would have made their march more sure and
rapid?
"If that had been done, we should not have lost our best men at Wiazma,
at the Wop, at the Dnieper, and along the whole road; in short, even
now, Kutusoff, Wittgenstein, and perhaps Tchitchakof would not have had
time to prepare more fatal days for us.
"But why, in the absence of orders from Napoleon, had not that
precaution been taken by the commanders, all of them kings, princes, and
marshals? Had not the winter in Russia been foreseen? Was it that
Napoleon, accustomed to the active intelligence of his soldiers, had
reckoned too much upon their foresight? Had the recollection of the
campaign in Poland, during a winter as mild as that of our own climate,
deceived him, as well as an unclouded sun, whose continuance, during the
whole of the month of October, had astonished even the Russians
themselves? What spirit of infatuation is it that has seized the whole
army as well as its leader? What has every one been reckoning upon? as
even supposing that at Moscow the hope of peace had dazzled us all, it
was always necessary to return, and nothing had been prepared, even for
a pacific journey homeward!"
The greater number could not account for this general infatuation,
otherwise than by their own carelessness, and because in armies, as well
as in despotic governments, it is the office of one to think for all; in
this case that _one_ was alone regarded as responsible, and misfortune,
which authorizes distrust, led every one to condemn him. It had been
already remarked, that in this important fault, this forgetfulness, so
improbable in an active genius during so long and unoccupied a
residence, there was something of that spirit of error, "the fatal
forerunner of the fall of kings!"
Napoleon had been at Smolensk for five days. It was known that Ney had
received orders to arrive there as late as possible, and Eugene to halt
for two days at Doukhowtchina. "Then it was not the necessity of waiting
for the army of Italy which detained him! To what then must we attribute
this delay, when famine, disease and the winter, and three hostile
armies were gradually surrounding us?
"While we had been penetrating to the heart of the Russian Colossus, had
not his arms remained advanced and extended towards the Baltic and the
Black Sea? was he likely to leave them motionless now, when, instead of
striking him mortal blows, we had been struck ourselves? Was not the
fatal moment arrived when this Colossus was about to surround us with
his threatening arms? Could we imagine that we had either tied them up,
or paralysed them, by opposing to them the Austrians in the south, and
the Prussians in the north? Was it not rather a method of rendering the
Poles and the French, who were mixed with these dangerous allies,
entirely useless?
"But without going far in search of causes of uneasiness, was the
Emperor ignorant of the joy of the Russians, when three months before he
stopped to attack Smolensk, instead of marching to the right to Elnia,
where he would have cut off the enemy's army from a retreat upon their
capital? Now that the war has returned back to the same spots, will the
Russians, whose movements are much more free than ours were then,
imitate our error? Will they keep in our rear when they can so easily
place themselves before us, on the line of our retreat?
"Is Napoleon unwilling to allow that Kutusoff's attack may be bolder and
more skilful than his own had been? Are the circumstances still the
same? Was not every thing favourable to the Russians during their
retreat, and, on the contrary, has not every thing been unfavourable to
us, in our retreat? Will not the cutting off Augereau and his brigade
upon that road open his eyes? What business had we in the burnt and
ravaged Smolensk, but to take a supply of provisions and proceed rapidly
onwards?
"But the Emperor no doubt fancied that by dating his despatches five
days from that city, he would give to his disorderly flight the
appearance of a slow and glorious retreat! This was the reason of his
ordering the destruction of the towers which surround Smolensk, from the
wish, as he expressed it, of not being again stopped short by its walls!
as if there was any idea of our returning to a place, which we did not
even know whether we should ever get out of.
"Will any one believe that he wished to give time to the artillerymen to
shoe their horses against the ice? as if he could expect any labour from
workmen emaciated with hunger and long marches; from poor wretches who
hardly found, the day long enough to procure provisions and dress them,
whose forges were thrown away or damaged, and who besides wanted the
indispensable materials for a labour so considerable.
"But perhaps he wished to allow himself time to drive on before him, out
of danger and clear of the ranks, the troublesome crowd of soldiers, who
had become useless, to rally the better sort, and to re-organize the
army? as if it were possible to convey any orders whatever to men so
scattered about, or to rally them, without lodgings, or distribution of
provisions, to _bivouacs_; in short, to think of re-organization for
corps of dying soldiers, all of whom had no longer any thing to adhere
to, and whom the least touch would dissolve."
Such, around Napoleon, were the conversations of his officers; or rather
their secret reflexions: for their devotion to him remained entire for
two whole years longer, in the midst of the greatest calamities, and of
the general revolt of nations.
The Emperor, however, made an effort which was not altogether fruitless;
namely, to rally, under one commander, all that remained of the cavalry:
of thirty-seven thousand cavalry which were present at the passage of
the Niemen, there were now only eighteen hundred left on horseback. He
gave the command of them to Latour-Maubourg; whether from the esteem
felt for him, or from fatigue, no one objected to it.
As to Latour-Maubourg, he received the honour or the charge without
expressing either pleasure or regret. He was a character of peculiar
stamp; always ready without forwardness, calm and active, remarkable for
his extreme purity of morals, simple and unostentatious; in other
respects, unaffected and sincere in his relations with others, and
attaching the idea of glory only to actions, and not to words. He always
marched with the same order and moderation in the midst of the most
immoderate disorder; and yet, what does honour to the age, he attained
to the highest distinctions as quickly and as rapidly as any who could
be named.
This feeble re-organization, the distribution of a part of the
provisions, the plunder of the rest, the repose which the Emperor and
his guard were enabled to take, the destruction of part of the artillery
and baggage, and finally, the expedition of a number of orders, were
nearly all the benefits which were derived from that fatal delay. In
other respects, all the misfortunes happened which had been foreseen. A
few hundred men were only rallied for a moment. The explosion of the
mines scarcely blew up the outside of some of the walls, and was only of
use on the last day, in driving out of the town the stragglers whom we
had been unable to set in motion.
The soldiers who had totally lost heart, the women, and several thousand
sick and wounded, were here abandoned. This was when Augereau's disaster
near Elnia made it but too evident that Kutusoff, now become the
pursuer, did not confine himself to the high road; that he was marching
from Wiazma by Elnia, direct upon Krasnoë; finally, when we ought to
have foreseen that we should be obliged to cut our way through the
Russian army, it was only on the 14th of November that the grand army
(or rather thirty-six thousand troops) commenced its march.
The old and young guard had not then more than from nine to ten thousand
infantry, and two thousand cavalry; Davoust and the first corps, from
eight to nine thousand; Ney and the third corps, five to six thousand;
Prince Eugene and the army of Italy, five thousand; Poniatowski, eight
hundred; Junot and the Westphalians, seven hundred; Latour-Maubourg and
the rest of the cavalry, fifteen hundred; there might also be about one
thousand light horse, and five hundred dismounted cavalry, whom we had
succeeded in collecting together.
This army had left Moscow one hundred thousand strong; in
five-and-twenty days it had been reduced to thirty-six thousand men. The
artillery had already lost three hundred and fifty of their cannon, and
yet these feeble remains were always divided into eight armies, which
were encumbered with sixty thousand unarmed stragglers, and a long train
of cannon and baggage.
Whether it was this incumbrance of so many men and carriages, or a
mistaken sense of security, which led the Emperor to order a day's
interval between the departure of each marshal, is uncertain; most
probably it was the latter. Be that as it may, he, Eugene, Davoust, and
Ney only quitted Smolensk in succession; Ney was not to leave it till
the 16th or 17th. He had orders to make the artillery saw the trunnions
of the cannon left behind, and bury them; to destroy the ammunition, to
drive all the stragglers before him, and to blow up the towers which
surrounded the city.
Kutusoff, meanwhile, was waiting for us at some leagues distance from
thence, and preparing to cut in pieces successively those remnants of
corps thus extended and parcelled out.
CHAP. III.
It was on the 14th of November, about five in the morning, that the
imperial column at last quitted Smolensk. Its march was still firm, but
gloomy and silent as night, and mute and discoloured as the aspect of
the country through which it was advancing.
This silence was only interrupted by the cracking of the whips applied
to the poor horses, and by short and violent imprecations when they met
with ravines; and when upon these icy declivities, men, horses, and
artillery were rolling in obscurity, one over the other. The first day
they advanced five leagues. The artillery of the guard took twenty-two
hours to get over that ground.
Nevertheless, this first column arrived, without any great loss of men,
at Korythinia, which Junot had passed with his Westphalian corps, now
reduced to seven hundred men. A vanguard had pushed on as far as
Krasnoë. The wounded and disbanded men were on the point of reaching
Liady. Korythinia is five leagues from Smolensk; Krasnoë five leagues
from Korythinia; Liady four leagues from Krasnoë. The Boristhenes flows
at two leagues on the right of the high road from Korythinia to Krasnoë.
Near Korythinia another road, that from Elnia to Krasnoë, runs close to
the great road. That very day Kutusoff advanced upon that road with
ninety thousand men, which completely covered it; his march was parallel
with that of Napoleon, whom he soon outstripped; on the cross-roads he
sent forward several vanguards to intercept our retreat.
One of these, said to be commanded by Ostermann, made its appearance at
Korythinia at the same time with Napoleon, and was driven back.
A second, consisting of twenty thousand men, and commanded by
Miloradowitch, took a position three leagues in advance of us, towards
Merlino and Nikoulina, behind a ravine which skirts the left side of the
great road; and there, lying in ambush on the flank of our retreat, it
awaited our passage.
At the same time a third reached Krasnoë, which it surprised during the
night, but was driven out by Sebastiani, who had just arrived there.
Finally, a fourth, pushed still more in advance, got between Krasnoë and
Liady, and carried off, upon the high road, several generals and other
officers who were marching singly.
Kutusoff, at the same time, with the bulk of his army, advanced, and
took a position in the rear of these vanguards, and within reach of them
all, and felicitated himself on the success of his manoeuvres, which
would have inevitably failed, owing to his tardiness, had it not been
for our want of foresight; for this was a contest of errors, in which
ours being the greatest, we could have no thought of escaping total
destruction. Having made these dispositions, the Russian commander must
have believed that the French army was entirely in his power; but this
belief saved us. Kutusoff was wanting to himself at the moment of
action; his old age executed only half and badly the plans which it had
combined wisely.
During the time that all these masses were arranging themselves round
Napoleon, he remained perfectly tranquil in a miserable hut, the only
one left standing in Korythinia, apparently quite unconscious of all
these movements of troops, artillery, and cavalry, which were
surrounding him in all directions; at least he sent no orders to the
three corps which had halted at Smolensk to expedite their march, and he
himself waited for daylight to proceed.
His column was advancing, without precaution, preceded by a crowd of
stragglers, all eager to reach Krasnoë, when at two leagues from that
place, a row of Cossacks, placed from the heights on our left all across
the great road, appeared before them. Seized with astonishment, these
stragglers halted; they had looked for nothing of the kind, and at first
were inclined to believe that relentless fate had traced upon the snow
between them and Europe, that long, black, and motionless line as the
fatal term assigned to their hopes.
Some of them, stupified and rendered insensible by the misery of their
situation, with their eyes mentally fixed on home, and pursuing
mechanically and obstinately that direction, would listen to no warning,
and were about to surrender; the others collected together, and on both
sides there was a pause, in order to consider each other's force.
Several officers, who then came up, put these disbanded soldiers in some
degree of order; seven or eight riflemen, whom they sent forward, were
sufficient to break through that threatening curtain.
The French were smiling at the audacity of this idle demonstration, when
all at once, from the heights on their left, an enemy's battery began
firing. Its bullets crossed the road; at the same time thirty squadrons
showed themselves on the same side, threatening the Westphalian corps
which was advancing, the commander of which was so confused, that he
made no disposition to meet their attack.
A wounded officer, unknown to these Germans, and who was there by mere
chance, called out to them with an indignant voice, and immediately
assumed their command. The men obeyed him as they would their own
leader. In this case of pressing danger the differences of convention
disappeared. The man really superior having shown himself, acted as a
rallying point to the crowd, who grouped themselves around him, while
the general-in-chief remained mute and confounded, receiving with
docility the impulse the other had given, and acknowledging his
superiority, which, after the danger was over, he disputed, but of which
he did not, as too often happens, seek to revenge himself.
This wounded officer was Excelmans! In this action he was every thing,
general, officer, soldier, even an artilleryman, for he actually laid
hold of a cannon that had been abandoned, loaded and pointed it, and
made it once more be of use against our enemies. As to the commander of
the Westphalians, after this campaign, his premature and melancholy end
makes us presume that excessive fatigue and the consequences of some
severe wounds had already affected him mortally.
On seeing this leading column marching in such good order, the enemy
confined itself to attacking it with their bullets, which it despised,
and soon left behind it. When it came to the turn of the grenadiers of
the old guard to pass through this fire, they closed their ranks around
Napoleon like a moveable fortress, proud of having to protect him. Their
band of music expressed this pride. When the danger was greatest, they
played the well-known air, "_Où peut-on être mieux qu'au sein de sa
famille!_" (Where can we be happier than in the bosom of our family!) But
the Emperor, whom nothing escaped, stopped them with an exclamation,
"Rather play, _Veillons au salut de l'Empire_!" (Let us watch for the
safety of the empire!) words much better suited to his pre-occupation,
and to the general situation.
At the same time, the enemy's fire becoming troublesome, he gave orders
to silence it, and in two hours after he reached Krasnoë. The sight of
Sebastiani, and of the first grenadiers who preceded him, had been
sufficient to drive away the enemy's infantry. Napoleon entered in a
state of great anxiety, from not knowing what corps had been attacking
him, and his cavalry being too weak to enable them to get him
information, out of reach of the high road. He left Mortier and the
young guard a league behind him, in this way stretching out from too
great a distance a hand too feeble to assist his army, and determined to
wait for it.
The passage of his column had not been sanguinary, but it could not
conquer the ground as it did the enemy; the road was hilly; at every
eminence cannon were obliged to be left behind without being spiked, and
baggage, which was plundered before it was abandoned. The Russians from
their heights saw the whole interior of the army, its weaknesses, its
deformities, its most shameful parts: in short, all that is generally
concealed with the greatest care.
Notwithstanding, it appeared as if Miloradowitch, from his elevated
position, was satisfied with merely insulting the passage of the
Emperor, and of that old guard which had been so long the terror of
Europe. He did not dare to gather up its fragments until it had passed
on; but then he became bold, concentrated his forces, and descending
from the heights, took up a strong position with twenty thousand men,
quite across the high road; by this movement he separated Eugene,
Davoust, and Ney from the Emperor, and closed the road to Europe against
these three leaders.
CHAP. IV.
While he was making these preparations, Eugene was using all his efforts
at Smolensk to collect his scattered troops; with great difficulty he
tore them from the plunder of the magazines, and he did not succeed in
rallying eight thousand men until late on the 15th of November. He was
obliged to promise them supplies of provisions, and to show them the
road to Lithuania, in order to induce them to renew their march. Night
compelled him to halt at three leagues distance from Smolensk; the half
of his soldiers had already left their ranks. Next morning he continued
his march, with all that the cold of the night and of death had not
fastened round their _bivouacs_.
The noise of the cannon which they had heard the day before had ceased;
the royal column was advancing with difficulty, adding its own fragments
to those which it encountered. At its head, the viceroy and the chief of
his staff, buried in their own melancholy reflections, gave the reins to
their horses. Insensibly they left their troop behind them, without
being sensible of it; for the road was strewed with stragglers and men
marching at their pleasure, the idea of keeping whom in order had been
abandoned.
In this way they advanced to within two leagues of Krasnoë, but then a
singular movement which was passing before them attracted their absent
looks. Several of the disbanded soldiers had suddenly halted; those who
followed as they came up, formed a group with them; others who had
advanced farther fell back upon the first; they crowded together; a mass
was soon formed. The viceroy surprised, then looked about him; he
perceived that he had got the start of the main body of his army by an
hour's march: that he had about him only fifteen hundred men of all
ranks, of all nations, without organization, without leaders, without
order, without arms ready or fit for an engagement, and that he was
summoned to surrender.
This summons was answered by a general cry of indignation! But the
Russian flag of truce, who presented himself singly, insisted: "Napoleon
and his guard," said he to them, "have been beaten; you are surrounded
by twenty thousand Russians: you have no means of safety but in
accepting honourable conditions, and these Miloradowitch proposes to
you."
At these words, Guyon, one of the generals whose soldiers were either
all dead or dispersed, rushed from the crowd, and with a loud voice
called out, "Return immediately to whence you came, and tell him who
sent you, that if he has twenty thousand men, we have eighty thousand!"
The Russian, confounded, immediately retired.
All this happened in the twinkling of an eye; in a moment after the
hills on the left of the road were spouting out lightning and whirlwinds
of smoke; showers of shells and grape-shot swept the high road, and
threatening advancing columns showed their bayonets.
The viceroy hesitated for a moment; it grieved him to leave that
unfortunate troop, but at last, leaving his chief of the staff with
them, he returned back to his divisions, in order to bring them forward
to the combat, to make them get beyond the obstacle before it became
insurmountable, or to perish; for with the pride derived from a crown
and so many victories, it was not to be expected that he could ever
admit the thought of surrender.
Meanwhile, Guilleminot summoned about him the officers who, in this
crowd, had mingled with the soldiers. Several generals, colonels, and a
great number of officers immediately started forth and surrounded him;
they concerted together, and accepting him for their leader, they
distributed into platoons all the men who had hitherto formed but one
mass, and whom in that state they had found it impossible to excite.
This organization was made under a sharp fire. Several superior officers
went and placed themselves proudly in the ranks, and became once more
common soldiers. From a different species of pride, some marines of the
guard insisted on being commanded by one of their own officers, while
each of the other platoons was commanded by a general. Hitherto the
Emperor himself had been their colonel; now they were on the point of
perishing they maintained their privilege, which nothing could make them
forget, and which was respected accordingly.
These brave men, in this order, proceeded on their march to Krasnoë: and
they had already got beyond the batteries of Miloradowitch, when the
latter, rushing with his columns upon their flanks, hemmed them in so
closely, as to compel them to turn about, and seek a position in which
they could defend themselves. To the eternal glory of these warriors it
should be told, that these fifteen hundred French and Italians, one to
ten, with nothing in their favour but a determined countenance and very
few fire-arms in a state fit for use, kept their enemies at a respectful
distance upwards of an hour.
But as there was still no appearance of the viceroy and the rest of his
divisions, a longer resistance was evidently impossible. They were again
and again summoned to lay down their arms. During these short pauses
they heard the cannon rolling at a distance in their front and in their
rear. Thus, therefore, "the whole army was attacked at once, and from
Smolensk to Krasnoë it was but one engagement! If we wanted assistance,
there could be none expected by waiting for it; we must go and look for
it; but on which side? At Krasnoë it was impossible; we were too far
from it; there was every reason to believe that our troops were beaten
there. It would besides become matter of necessity for us to retreat;
and we were too near the Russians under Miloradowitch, who were calling
to us from their ranks to lay down our arms, to venture to turn our
backs upon them. It would therefore be a much better plan, as our faces
were now turned towards Smolensk, and as Prince Eugene was on that side,
to form ourselves into one compact mass, keep all its movements well
connected, and rushing headlong, to re-enter Russia by cutting our way
through these Russians, and rejoin the viceroy; then to return together,
to overthrow Miloradowitch, and at last reach Krasnoë."
To this proposition of their leader, there was a loud and unanimous cry
of assent. Instantly the column formed into a mass, and rushed into the
midst of ten thousand hostile muskets and cannon. The Russians, at first
seized with astonishment, opened their ranks and allowed this handful of
warriors, almost disarmed, to advance into the middle of them. Then,
when they comprehended their purpose, either from pity or admiration,
the enemy's battalions, which lined both sides of the road, called out
to our men to halt; they entreated and conjured them to surrender; but
the only answer they received was a more determined march, a stern
silence, and the point of the bayonet. The whole of the enemy's fire was
then poured upon them at once, at the distance of a few yards, and the
half of this heroic column was stretched wounded or lifeless on the
ground.
The remainder proceeded without a single man quitting the body of his
troop, which no Russian was bold enough to venture near. Few of these
unfortunate men again saw the viceroy and their advancing divisions.
Then only they separated; they ran and threw themselves into these
feeble ranks, which were opened to receive and protect them.
For more than an hour the Russian cannon had been thinning them. While
one half of their forces had pursued Guilleminot and compelled him to
retreat, Miloradowitch, with the other half, had stopped Prince Eugene.
His right rested on a wood which was protected by heights entirely
covered with cannon; his left touched the great road, but more in the
rear. This disposition dictated that of Eugene. The royal column, by
degrees, as it came up, deployed on the right of the road, its right
more forward than its left. The viceroy thus placed obliquely between
him and the enemy the great road, the possession of which was the
subject of contest. Each of the two armies occupied it by its left.
The Russians, placed in a position so offensive, kept entirely on the
defensive; their bullets alone attacked Eugene. A cannonade was kept up
on both sides, on theirs most destructive, on ours almost totally
ineffective. Tired out with this firing, Eugene formed his resolution;
he called the 14th French division, drew it up on the left of the great
road, pointed out to it the woody height on which the enemy rested, and
which formed his principal strength; _that_ was the decisive point, the
centre of the action, and to make the rest fall, _that_ must be carried.
He did not expect it would; but that effort would draw the attention and
the strength of the enemy on that side, the right of the great road
would remain free, and he would endeavour to take proper advantage of
it.
Three hundred soldiers, formed into three troops, were all that could be
found willing to mount to this assault. These devoted men advanced
resolutely against hostile thousands in a formidable position. A battery
of the Italian guard advanced to protect them, but the Russian batteries
immediately demolished it, and their cavalry took possession of it.
In spite of the grape-shot which was mowing them rapidly down, the three
hundred French kept moving on, and they had actually reached the enemy's
position, when, suddenly from two sides of the wood two masses of
cavalry rushed forth, bore down upon, overwhelmed and massacred them.
Not one escaped; and with them perished all remains of discipline and
courage in their division.
It was then that General Guilleminot again made his appearance. That in
a position so critical, Prince Eugene, with four thousand enfeebled
troops, the remnant of forty-two thousand and upwards, should not have
despaired, that he should still have exhibited a bold countenance, may
be conceived, from the known character of that commander; but that the
sight of our disaster and the ardour of victory should not have urged
the Russians to more than indecisive efforts, and that they should have
allowed the night to put an end to the battle, is with us, to this day,
matter of complete astonishment. Victory was so new to them, that even
when they held it in their hands, they knew not how to profit by it;
they delayed its completion until the next day.
The viceroy saw that the greater part of the Russians, attracted by his
demonstrations, had collected on the left of the road, and he only
waited until night, the sure ally of the weakest, had chained all their
movements. Then it was, that leaving his fires burning on that side, to
deceive the enemy, he quitted it, and marching entirely across the
fields, he turned, and silently got beyond the left of Miloradowitch's
position, while that general, too certain of his victory, was dreaming
of the glory of receiving, next morning, the sword of the son of
Napoleon.
In the midst of this perilous march, there was an awful moment. At the
most critical instant, when these soldiers, the survivors of so many
battles, were stealing along the side of the Russian army, holding their
breath and the noise of their steps; when their all depended on a look
or a cry of alarm; the moon all at once coming out of a thick cloud
appeared to light their movements. At the same moment a Russian sentinel
called out to them to halt, and demanded who they were? They gave
themselves up for lost! but Klisky, a Pole, ran up to this Russian, and
speaking to him in his own language, said to him with the greatest
composure, in a low tone of voice, "Be silent, fellow! don't you see
that we belong to the corps of Ouwarof, and that we are going on a
secret expedition?" The Russian, outwitted, held his tongue.
But the Cossacks were galloping up every moment to the flanks of the
column, as if to reconnoitre it, and then returned to the body of their
troop. Their squadrons advanced several times as if they were about to
charge; but they did no more, either from doubt as to what they saw, for
they were still deceived, or from prudence, as it frequently halted, and
presented a determined front to them.
At last, after two hours most anxious march, they again reached the high
road, and the viceroy was actually in Krasnoë on the 17th of November,
when Miloradowitch, descending from his heights in order to seize him,
found the field of battle occupied only by a few stragglers, whom no
effort could induce the night before to quit their fires.
CHAP. V.
The Emperor on his side had waited for the viceroy during the whole of
the preceding day. The noise of his engagement had irritated him. An
effort to break through the enemy, in order to join him, had been
ineffectually attempted; and when night came on without his making his
appearance, the uneasiness of his adopted father was at the height.
"Eugene and the army of Italy, and this long day of baffled expectation,
had they then terminated together?" Only one hope remained to Napoleon;
and that was, that the viceroy, driven back towards Smolensk, had there
joined Davoust and Ney, and that the following day they would, with
united forces, attempt a decisive effort.
In his anxiety, the Emperor assembled the marshals who remained with
him. These were Berthier, Bessières, Mortier, and Lefebvre; these were
saved; they had cleared the obstacle; they had only to continue their
retreat through Lithuania, which was open to them; but would they
abandon their companions in the midst of the Russian army? No,
certainly; and they determined once more to enter Russia, either to
deliver, or to perish with them.
When this resolution was taken, Napoleon coolly prepared the
dispositions to carry it into effect. He was not at all shaken by the
great movements which the enemy were evidently making around him. He saw
that Kutusoff was advancing in order to surround and take him prisoner
in Krasnoë. The very night before, he had learned that Ojarowski, with a
vanguard of Russian infantry, had got beyond him, and taken a position
at Maliewo, in a village in the rear of his left. Irritated, instead of
depressed, by misfortune, he called his aide-de-camp, Rapp, and
exclaimed, "that he must set out immediately, and proceed during the
night and the darkness to attack that body of infantry with the bayonet;
that this was the first time of its exhibiting so much audacity, and
that he was determined to make it repent it, in such a way, that it
should never again dare to approach so near to his head-quarters." Then
instantly recalling him, he continued, "But, no! let Roguet and his
division go alone! As for thee, remain where thou art, I don't wish thee
to be killed here, I shall have occasion for thee at Dantzic."
Rapp, while he was carrying this order to Roguet, could not help feeling
astonished, that his leader, surrounded by eighty thousand enemies, whom
he was going to attack next day with nine thousand, should have so
little doubt about his safety, as to be thinking of what he should have
to do at Dantzic, a city from which he was separated by the winter, two
other hostile armies, famine, and a hundred and eighty leagues.
The nocturnal attack on Chirkowa and Maliewo was successful. Roguet
formed his idea of the enemy's position by the direction of their fires;
they occupied two villages, connected by a causeway, which was defended
by a ravine. He disposed his troop into three columns of attack; those
on the right and left were to advance silently, as close as possible to
the enemy; then at the signal to charge, which he himself would give
them from the centre, they were to rush into the midst of the enemy
without firing a shot, and making use only of their bayonets.
Immediately the two wings of the young guard commenced the action. While
the Russians, taken by surprise, and not knowing on which side to defend
themselves, were wavering from their right to their left, Roguet, with
his column, rushed suddenly upon their centre and into the midst of
their camp, into which he entered pell-mell with them. Thus divided and
thrown into confusion, they had barely time to throw the best part of
their great and small arms into a neighbouring lake, and to set fire to
their tents, the flames arising from which, instead of saving them, only
gave light to their destruction.
This check stopped the movement of the Russian army for four-and-twenty
hours, put it in the Emperor's power to remain at Krasnoë, and enabled
Eugene to rejoin him during the following night. He was received by
Napoleon with the greatest joy; but the Emperor's uneasiness respecting
Davoust and Ney became shortly after proportionably greater.
Around us the camp of the Russians presented a spectacle similar to what
it had done at Vinkowo, Malo-Yaroslawetz, and Wiazma. Every evening,
close to the general's tent, the relics of the Russian saints,
surrounded by an immense number of wax tapers, were exposed to the
adoration of the soldiers. While each of these was, according to custom,
giving proofs of his devotion by an endless repetition of crossings and
genuflections, the priests were addressing them with fanatical
exhortations, which would appear barbarous and absurd to every civilized
nation.
In spite, however, of the great power of such means, of the number of
the Russians, and of our weakness, Kutusoff, who was only at two
leagues' distance from Miloradowitch, while the latter was beating
Prince Eugene, remained immoveable. During the following night,
Beningsen, urged on by the ardent Wilson, in vain attempted to animate
the old Russian. Elevating the faults of his age into virtues, he
applied the names of wisdom, humanity, and prudence, to his dilatoriness
and strange circumspection; he was resolved to finish as he had begun.
For if we may be allowed to compare small things with great, his renown
had been established on a principle directly contrary to that of
Napoleon, fortune having made the one, and the other having created his
fortune.
He made a boast of "advancing only by short marches; of allowing his
soldiers to rest every third day; he would blush, and halt immediately,
if they wanted bread or spirits for a single moment." Then, with great
self-gratulation, he pretended that "all the way from Wiazma, he had
been escorting the French army as his prisoners; chastising them
whenever they wished to halt, or strike out of the high road; that it
was useless to run any risks with captives; that the Cossacks, a
vanguard, and an army of artillery, were quite sufficient to finish
them, and make them pass successively under the yoke; and that in this
plan, he was admirably seconded by Napoleon himself. Why should he seek
to _purchase_ of Fortune what she was so generously giving him? Was not
the term of Napoleon's destiny already irrevocably marked? it was in the
marshes of the Berezina that this meteor would be extinguished, this
colossus overthrown, in the midst of Wittgenstein, Tchitchakof, and
himself, and in the presence of the assembled Russian armies. As for
himself, he would have the glory of delivering him up to them,
enfeebled, disarmed, and dying; and to him that glory was sufficient."
To this discourse the English officer, still more active and eager,
replied only by entreating the field-marshal "to leave his head-quarters
only for a few moments, and advance upon the heights; there he would see
that the last moment of Napoleon was already come. Would he allow him
even to get beyond the frontiers of Russia proper, which loudly called
for the sacrifice of this great victim? Nothing remained but to strike;
let him only give the order, one charge would be sufficient, and in two
hours the face of Europe would be entirely changed!"
Then, gradually getting warmer at the coolness with which Kutusoff
listened to him, Wilson, for the third time, threatened him with the
general indignation. "Already, in his army, at the sight of the
straggling, mutilated, and dying column, which was about to escape from
him, he might hear the Cossacks exclaiming, what a shame it was to allow
these skeletons to escape in this manner out of their tomb!" But
Kutusoff, whom old age, that misfortune without hope, rendered
indifferent, became angry at the attempts made to rouse him, and by a
short and violent answer, shut the indignant Englishman's mouth.
It is asserted that the report of a spy had represented to him Krasnoë
as filled with an enormous mass of the imperial guard, and that the old
marshal was afraid of compromising his reputation by attacking it. But
the sight of our distress emboldened Beningsen; this chief of the staff
prevailed upon Strogonof, Gallitzin, and Miloradowitch, with a force of
more than fifty thousand Russians, and one hundred pieces of cannon, to
venture to attack at daylight, in spite of Kutusoff, fourteen thousand
famished, enfeebled, and half-frozen French and Italians.
This was a danger, the imminence of which Napoleon fully comprehended.
He might escape from it; daylight had not yet appeared. He was at
liberty to avoid this fatal engagement; to gain Orcha and Borizof by
rapid marches along with Eugene and his guard; there he could rally his
forces with thirty thousand French under Victor and Oudinôt, with
Dombrowski, with Regnier, with Schwartzenberg, and with all his depôts,
and be might again, the following year, make his appearance as
formidable as ever.
On the 17th, before daylight, he issued his orders, armed himself, and
going out on foot, at the head of his old guard, began his march. But it
was not towards Poland, his ally, that it was directed, nor towards
France, where he would be still received as the head of a rising
dynasty, and the Emperor of the West. His words on taking up his sword
on this occasion, were "I have sufficiently acted the emperor; it is
time that I should become the general." He turned back into the midst of
eighty thousand enemies, plunged into the thickest of them, in order to
draw all their efforts against himself, to make a diversion in favour of
Davoust and Ney, and to tear them from a country, the gates of which had
been closed upon them.
Daylight at last appeared, exhibiting on one side the Russian battalions
and batteries, which on three sides, in front, on our right, and in our
rear, bounded the horizon, and on the other, Napoleon with his six
thousand guards advancing with a firm step, and proceeding to take his
place in the middle of that terrible circle. At the same time Mortier, a
few yards in front of his Emperor, displayed in the face of the whole
Russian army, the five thousand men which still remained to him.
Their object was to defend the right flank of the great road from
Krasnoë to the great ravine in the direction of Stachowa. A battalion of
_chasseurs_ of the old guard, formed in a square like a fortress, was
planted close to the high road, and acted as a support to the left wing
of our young soldiers. On their right, in the snowy plains which
surrounded Krasnoë, the remains of the cavalry of the guard, a few
cannon, and the four hundred cavalry of Latour-Maubourg (as, since they
left Smolensk, the cold had killed or dispersed fourteen hundred of
them) occupied the place of the battalions and batteries which the
French army no longer possessed.
The artillery of the Duke of Treviso was reinforced by a battery
commanded by Drouot; one of those men who are endowed with the whole
strength of virtue, who think that duty embraces every thing, and are
capable of making the noblest sacrifices simply and without the least
effort.
Claparede remained at Krasnoë, where, with a few soldiers, he protected
the wounded, the baggage, and the retreat. Prince Eugene continued his
retreat towards Liady. His engagement of the preceding day and his night
march had entirely broken up his corps; his divisions only retained
sufficient unity to drag themselves along, and to perish, but not to
fight.
Meantime Roguet had been recalled to the field of battle from Maliewo.
The enemy kept pushing columns across that village, and was extending
more and more beyond our right in order to surround us. The battle then
commenced. But what kind of battle? The Emperor had here no sudden
illumination to trust to, no flashes of momentary inspiration, none of
these great strokes so unforeseen from their boldness, which ravish
fortune, extort a victory, and by which he had so often disconcerted,
stunned, and crushed his enemies. All _their_ movements were now free,
all _ours_ enchained, and this genius of attack was reduced to defend
himself.
Here therefore it became perfectly evident that renown is not a vain
shadow, that she is real strength, and doubly powerful by the inflexible
pride which she imparts to her favourites, and the timid precautions
which she suggests to them who venture to attack her. The Russians had
only to march forward without manoeuvring, even without firing: their
mass was sufficient, they might have crushed Napoleon and his feeble
troop: but they did not dare to come to close quarters with him. They
were awed by the presence of the conqueror of Egypt and of Europe. The
Pyramids, Marengo, Austerlitz, Friedland, an army of victories, seemed
to rise between him and the whole of the Russians. We might almost fancy
that, in the eyes of that submissive and superstitious people, a renown
so extraordinary appeared like some thing supernatural; that they
regarded it as beyond their reach; that they believed they could only
attack and demolish it from a distance; and in short, that against that
old guard, that living fortress, that column of granite, as it had been
styled by its leader, human efforts were impotent, and that cannon alone
could demolish it.
These made wide and deep breaches in the ranks of Roguet and the young
guard, but they killed without vanquishing. These young soldiers, one
half of whom had never before been in an engagement, received the shock
of death during three hours without retreating one step, without making
a single movement to escape it, and without being able to return it,
their artillery having been broken, and the Russians keeping beyond the
reach of their musketry.
But every instant strengthened the enemy and weakened Napoleon. The
noise of the cannon as well as Claparede apprised him, that in the rear
of Krasnoë and his army, Beningsen was proceeding to take possession of
the road to Liady, and cut off his retreat. The east, the west, and the
south were sparkling with the enemy's fires; one side only remained
open, that of the north and the Dnieper, towards an eminence, at the
foot of which were the high road and the Emperor. We fancied we saw the
enemy covering this eminence with his cannon: in that situation they
were just over Napoleon's head, and might have crushed him at a few
yards' distance. He was apprised of his danger, cast his eyes for an
instant upon it, and uttered merely these words, "Very well, let a
battalion of my _chasseurs_ take possession of it!" Immediately
afterwards, without paying farther attention to it, his whole looks and
attention reverted to the perilous situation of Mortier.
Then at last Davoust made his appearance, forcing his way through a
swarm of Cossacks, whom he drove away by a precipitate march. At the
sight of Krasnoë, this marshal's troops disbanded themselves, and ran
across the fields to get beyond the right of the enemy's line, in the
rear of which they had come up. Davoust and his generals could only
rally them at Krasnoë.
The first corps was thus preserved, but we learned at the same time,
that our rear-guard could no longer defend itself at Krasnoë; that Ney
was probably still at Smolensk, and that we must give up waiting for him
any longer. Napoleon, however, still hesitated; he could not determine
on making this great sacrifice.
But at last, as all were likely to perish, his resolution was fixed. He
called Mortier, and squeezing his hand sorrowfully, told him, "that he
had not a moment to lose; that the enemy were overwhelming him in all
directions; that Kutusoff might already reach Liady, perhaps Orcha, and
the last winding of the Boristhenes before him; that he would therefore
proceed thither rapidly with his old guard, in order to occupy that
passage. Davoust would relieve Mortier; but both of them must endeavour
to hold out in Krasnoë until night, after which they must come and
rejoin him." Then with his heart full of Ney's misfortune, and of
despair at abandoning him, he withdrew slowly from the field of battle,
traversed Krasnoë, where he again halted, and then cleared his way to
Liady.
Mortier was anxious to obey, but at that moment the Dutch troops of the
guard had lost, along with a third part of their number, an important
post which they were defending, which the enemy immediately after
covered with his artillery. Roguet, feeling the destructive effects of
its fire, fancied he was able to extinguish it. A regiment which he sent
against the Russian battery was repulsed; a second (the 1st of the
_voltigeurs_) got into the middle of the Russians, and stood firm
against two charges of their cavalry. It continued to advance, torn to
pieces by their grape-shot, when a third charge overwhelmed it. Fifty
soldiers and eleven officers were all of it that Roguet was able to
preserve.
That general had lost the half of his men. It was now two o'clock, and
his unshaken fortitude still kept the Russians in astonishment, when at
last, emboldened by the Emperor's departure, they began to press upon
him so closely, that the young guard was nearly hemmed in, and very soon
in a situation in which it could neither hold out, nor retreat.
Fortunately, some platoons which Davoust had rallied, and the appearance
of another troop of his stragglers, attracted the enemy's attention.
Mortier availed himself of it. He gave orders to the three thousand men
he had still remaining to retreat slowly in the face of their fifty
thousand enemies. "Do you hear, soldiers?" cried General Laborde, "the
marshal orders ordinary time! Ordinary time, soldiers!" And this brave
and unfortunate troop, dragging with them some of their wounded, under a
shower of balls and grape-shot, retired as slowly from this field of
carnage, as they would have done from a field of manoeuvre.
CHAP. VI.
As soon as Mortier had succeeded in placing Krasnoë between him and
Beningsen, he was in safety. The communication between that town and
Liady was only interrupted by the fire of the enemy's batteries, which
flanked the left side of the great road. Colbert and Latour-Maubourg
kept them in check upon their heights. In the course of this march a
most singular accident occurred. A howitzer shell entered the body of a
horse, burst there, and blew him to pieces without wounding his rider,
who fell upon his legs, and went on.
The Emperor, meanwhile, halted at Liady, four leagues from the field of
battle. When night came on, he learned that Mortier, who he thought was
in his rear, had got before him. Melancholy and uneasy, he sent for him,
and with an agitated voice, said to him, "that he had certainly fought
gloriously, and suffered greatly. But why had he placed his Emperor
between him and the enemy? why had he exposed himself to be cut off?"
The marshal had got the start of Napoleon without being aware of it. He
exclaimed, "that he had at first left Davoust in Krasnoë, again
endeavouring to rally his troops, and that he himself had halted, not
far from that: but that the first corps, having been driven back upon
him, had obliged him to retrograde. That besides, Kutusoff did not
follow up his victory with vigour, and appeared to hang upon our flank
with all his army with no other view than to feast his eyes with our
distress, and gather up our fragments."
Next day the march was continued with hesitation. The impatient
stragglers took the lead, and all of them got the start of Napoleon; he
was on foot, with a stick in his hand, walking with difficulty and
repugnance, and halting every quarter of an hour, as if unwilling to
tear himself from that old Russia, whose frontier he was then passing,
and in which he had left his unfortunate companions in arms.
In the evening he reached Dombrowna, a wooden town, with a population
like Liady; a novel sight for an army, which had for three months seen
nothing but ruins. We had at last emerged from old Russia and her
deserts of snow and ashes, and entered into a friendly and inhabited
country, whose language we understood. The weather just then became
milder, a thaw had begun, and we received some provisions.
Thus the winter, the enemy, solitude, and with some famine and bivouacs,
all ceased at once; but it was too late. The Emperor saw that his army
was destroyed; every moment the name of Ney escaped from his lips, with
exclamations of grief. That night particularly he was heard groaning and
exclaiming, "That the misery of his poor soldiers cut him to the heart,
and yet that he could not succour them without fixing himself in some
place: but where was it possible for him to rest, without ammunition,
provisions, or artillery? He was no longer strong enough to halt; he
must reach Minsk as quickly as possible."
He had hardly spoken the words, when a Polish officer arrived with the
news, that Minsk itself, his magazine, his retreat, his only hope, had
just fallen into the hands of the Russians, Tchitchakof having entered
it on the 16th. Napoleon, at first, was mute and overpowered at this
last blow; but immediately afterwards, elevating himself in proportion
to his danger, he coolly replied, "Very well! we have now nothing to do,
but to clear ourselves a passage with our bayonets."
But in order to reach this new enemy, who had escaped from
Schwartzenberg, or whom Schwartzenberg had perhaps allowed to pass, (for
we knew nothing of the circumstances,) and to escape from Kutusoff and
Wittgenstein, we must cross the Berezina at Borizof. With that view
Napoleon (on the 19th of November, from Dombrowna) sent orders to
Dombrowski to give up all idea of fighting Hoertel, and proceed with all
haste to occupy that passage. He wrote to the Duke of Reggio, to march
rapidly to the same point, and to hasten to recover Minsk; the Duke of
Belluno would cover his march. After giving these orders, his agitation
was appeased, and his mind, worn out with suffering, sunk into
depression.
It was still far from daylight, when a singular noise drew him out of
his lethargy. Some say that shots were at first heard, which had been
fired by our own people, in order to draw out of the houses such as had
taken shelter in them, that they might take their places; others assert,
that from a disorderly practice, too common in our bivouacs, of
vociferating to each other, the name of _Hausanne_, a grenadier, being
suddenly called out loudly, in the midst of a profound silence, was
mistaken for the alert cry of _aux armes_, which announced a surprise by
the enemy.
Whatever might be the cause, every one immediately saw, or fancied he
saw, the Cossacks, and a great noise of war and of alarm surrounded
Napoleon. Without disturbing himself, he said to Rapp, "Go and see, it
is no doubt some rascally Cossacks, determined to disturb our rest!" But
it became very soon a complete tumult of men running to fight or to
flee, and who, meeting in the dark, mistook each other for enemies.
Napoleon for a moment imagined that a serious attack had been made. As
an embanked stream of water ran through the town, he inquired if the
remaining artillery had been placed behind that ravine, and being
informed that the precaution had been neglected, he himself immediately
ran to the bridge, and caused his cannon to be hurried over to the other
side.
He then returned to his old guard, and stopping in front of each
battalion: "Grenadiers!" said he to them, "we are retreating without
being conquered by the enemy, let us not be vanquished by ourselves! Set
an example to the army! Several of you have already deserted their
eagles, and even thrown away their arms. I have no wish to have recourse
to military laws to put a stop to this disorder, but appeal entirely to
yourselves! Do justice among yourselves. To your own honour I commit the
support of your discipline!"
The other troops he harangued in a similar style. These few words were
quite sufficient to the old grenadiers, who probably had no occasion for
them. The others received them with acclamation, but an hour afterwards,
when the march was resumed, they were quite forgotten. As to his
rear-guard, throwing the greatest part of the blame of this hot alarm
upon it, he sent an angry message to Davoust on the subject.
At Orcha we found rather an abundant supply of provisions, a bridge
equipage of sixty boats, with all its appurtenances, which were entirely
burnt, and thirty-six pieces of cannon, with their horses, which were
distributed between Davoust, Eugene, and Latour-Maubourg.
Here for the first time we again met with the officers and gendarmes,
who had been sent for the purpose of stopping on the two bridges of the
Dnieper the crowd of stragglers, and making them rejoin their columns.
But those eagles, which formerly promised every thing, were now looked
upon as of fatal omen, and deserted accordingly.
Disorder was already regularly organized, and had enlisted in its ranks
men who showed their ability in its service. When an immense crowd had
been collected, these wretches called out "the Cossacks!" with a view to
quicken the march of those who preceded them and to increase the tumult.
They then took advantage of it, to carry off the provisions and cloaks
of those whom they had thrown off their guard.
The gendarmes, who again saw this army for the first time since its
disaster, were astonished at the sight of such misery, terrified at the
great confusion, and became discouraged. This friendly frontier was
entered tumultuously; it would have been given up to pillage, had it not
been for the guard, and a few hundred men who remained, with Prince
Eugene.
Napoleon entered Orcha with six thousand guards, the remains of
thirty-five thousand! Eugene, with eighteen hundred soldiers, the
remains of forty-two thousand! Davoust, with four thousand, the remains
of seventy thousand!
This marshal had lost every thing, was actually without linen, and
emaciated with hunger. He seized upon a loaf which was offered him by
one of his comrades, and, voraciously devoured it. A handkerchief was
given him to wipe his face, which was covered with rime. He exclaimed,
"that none but men of iron constitutions could support such trials, that
it was physically impossible to resist them; that there were limits to
human strength, the utmost of which had been exceeded."
He it was who at first supported the retreat as far as Wiazma. He was
still, according to his custom, halting at all the defiles, and
remaining there the very last, sending every one to his ranks, and
constantly struggling with the disorder. He urged his soldiers to insult
and strip of their booty such of their comrades as threw away their
arms; the only means of retaining the first and punishing the last.
Nevertheless, his methodical and severe genius, so much out of its
element in that scene of universal confusion, has been accused of being
too much intimidated at it.
The Emperor made fruitless attempts to check this discouragement. When
alone, he was heard compassionating the sufferings of his soldiers; but
in their presence, even upon that point, he wished to appear inflexible.
He issued a proclamation, "ordering every one to return to their ranks;
if they did not, he would strip the officers of their grades, and put
the soldiers to death."
A threat like this produced neither good nor bad impression upon men who
had become insensible, or were reduced to despair, fleeing not from
danger, but from suffering, and less apprehensive of the _death_ with
which they were threatened than of the _life_ that was offered to them.
But Napoleon's confidence increased with his peril; in his eyes, and in
the midst of these deserts of mud and ice, this handful of men was still
the grand army! and himself the conqueror of Europe! and there was no
infatuation in this firmness; we were certain of it, when, in this very
town, we saw him burning with his own hands every thing belonging to
him, which might serve as trophies to the enemy, in the event of his
fall.
There also were unfortunately consumed all the papers which he had
collected in order to write the history of his life, for such was his
intention when he set out for this fatal war. He had then determined to
halt as a threatening conqueror on the borders of the Düna and the
Boristhenes, to which he now returned as a disarmed fugitive. At that
time he regarded the _ennui_ of six winter months, which he would have
been detained on these rivers, as his greatest enemy, and to overcome
it, this second Cæsar intended there to have dictated his Commentaries.
CHAP. VII.
Every thing, however, was now changed; two hostile armies were cutting
off his retreat. The question to decide was, through which of them he
must attempt to force his way: and as he knew nothing of the Lithuanian
forests into which he was about to penetrate, he summoned such of his
officers as had passed through them in order to reach him.
The Emperor began by telling them, that "Too much familiarity with great
victories was frequently the precursor of great disasters, but that
recrimination was now out of the question." He then mentioned the
capture of Minsk, and after admitting the skilfulness of Kutusoff's
persevering manoeuvres on his right flank, declared "that he meant to
abandon his line of operations on the Minsk, unite with the Dukes of
Belluno and Reggio, cut his way through Wittgenstein's army, and regain
Wilna by turning the sources of the Berezina."
Jomini combated this plan. That Swiss general described the position of
Wittgenstein as a series of long defiles, in which his resistance might
be either obstinate or flexible, but in either way sufficiently long to
consummate our destruction. He added, that in this season, and in such a
state of disorder, a change of route would complete the destruction of
the army; that it would lose itself in the cross-roads of these barren
and marshy forests; he maintained that the high road alone could keep it
in any degree of union. Borizof, and its bridge over the Berezina, were
still open; and it would be sufficient to reach it.
He then stated that he knew of a road to the right of that town,
constructed on wooden bridges, and passing across the marshes of
Lithuania. This was the only road, by his account, by which the army
could reach Wilna by Zembin and Malodeczno, leaving Minsk on the left,
its road a day's journey longer, its fifty broken bridges rendering a
passage impracticable, and Tchitchakof in possession of it. In this
manner we should pass between the two hostile armies, avoiding them
both.
The Emperor was staggered; but as his pride revolted at the appearance
of avoiding an engagement, and he was anxious to signalize his departure
from Russia by a victory, he sent for General Dodde, of the engineers.
As soon as he saw him he called out to him, "Whether shall we retreat by
Zembin, or go and beat Wittgenstein at Smoliantzy?" and knowing that
Dodde had just come from the latter position, he asked him if it was
approachable?
His reply was, that Wittgenstein occupied a height which entirely
commanded that miry country; that it would be necessary for us to tack
about, within his sight and within his reach, by following the windings
and turnings of the road, in order to ascend to the Russian camp; that
thus our column of attack would be long exposed to their fire, first its
left and then its right flank; that this position was therefore
unapproachable in front, and that to turn it, it would be necessary to
retrograde towards Witepsk, and take too long a circuit.
Disappointed in this last hope of glory, Napoleon then decided for
Borizof. He ordered General Eblé to proceed with eight companies of
sappers and pontonniers to secure the passage of the Berezina, and
General Jomini to act as his guide. But he said at the same time, "that
it was cruel to retreat without fighting, to have the appearance of
flight. If he had any magazine, any point of support, which would allow
him to halt, he would still prove to Europe that he always knew how to
fight and to conquer."
All these illusions were now destroyed. At Smolensk, where he arrived
first, and from which he was the first to depart, he had rather been
informed of, than witnessed his disaster. At Krasnoë, where our miseries
had successively been unrolled before his eyes, the peril had distracted
his attention; but at Orcha he could contemplate, at once and leisurely,
the full extent of his misfortunes.
At Smolensk, thirty-six thousand combatants, one hundred and fifty
cannon, the army-chest, and the hope of life and breathing at liberty on
the other side of the Berezina, still remained; here, there were
scarcely ten thousand soldiers, almost without clothing or shoes,
entangled amidst a crowd of dying men, with a few cannon, and a pillaged
army-chest.
In five days, every evil had been aggravated; destruction and
disorganization had made frightful progress; Minsk had been taken. He
had no longer to look for rest and abundance on the other side of the
Berezina, but fresh contests with a new enemy. Finally, the defection of
Austria from his alliance seemed to be declared, and perhaps it was a
signal given to all Europe.
Napoleon was even uncertain whether he should reach Borizof in time to
meet the new peril, which Schwartzenberg's hesitation seemed to have
prepared for him. We have seen that a third Russian army, that of
Wittgenstein, menaced, on his right, the interval which separated him
from that town; that he had sent the Duke of Belluno against him, and
had ordered that marshal to retrieve the opportunity he had lost on the
1st of November, and to resume the offensive.
In obedience to these orders, on the 14th of November, the very day
Napoleon quitted Smolensk, the Dukes of Belluno and of Reggio had
attacked and driven back the out-posts of Wittgenstein towards
Smoliantzy, preparing, by this engagement, for a battle which they
agreed should take place on the following day.
The French were thirty thousand against forty thousand; there, as well
as at Wiazma, the soldiers were sufficiently numerous, if they had not
had too many leaders.
The two Marshals disagreed. Victor wished to manoeuvre on the enemy's
left wing, to overthrow Wittgenstein with the two French corps, and
march by Botscheikowo on Kamen, and from Kamen by Pouichna on Berezina.
Oudinôt warmly disapproved of this plan, saying that it would separate
them from the grand army, which required their assistance.
Thus, one of the leaders wishing to manoeuvre, and the other to attack
in front, they did neither the one nor the other. Oudinôt retired during
the night to Czereïa, and Victor, discovering this retreat at daybreak,
was compelled to follow him.
He halted within a day's march of the Lukolmlia, near Sienno, where
Wittgenstein did not much disturb him; but the Duke of Reggio having at
last received the order dated from Dombrowna, which directed him to
recover Minsk, Victor was about to be left alone before the Russian
general. It was possible that the latter would then become aware of his
superiority: and the Emperor, who at Orcha, on the 20th of November, saw
his rear-guard, lost, his left flank menaced by Kutusoff, and his
advance column stopped at the Berezina by the army of Volhynia, learned
that Wittgenstein and forty thousand more enemies, far from being beaten
and repulsed, were ready to fall upon his right, and that he had no time
to lose.
But Napoleon was long before he could determine to quit the Boristhenes.
It appeared to him that this was like a second abandonment of the
unfortunate Ney, and casting off for ever his intrepid companion in
arms. There, as he had done at Liady and Dombrowna, he was calling every
hour of the day and night, and sending to inquire if no tidings had been
heard of that marshal; but not a trace of his existence had transpired
through the Russian army; four days this mortal silence had lasted, and
yet the Emperor still continued to hope.
At last, being compelled, on the 20th of November, to quit Orcha, he
still left there Eugene, Mortier, and Davoust, and halted at two leagues
from thence, inquiring for Ney, and still expecting him. The same
feeling of grief pervaded the whole army, of which Orcha then contained
the remains. As soon as the most pressing wants allowed a moment's rest,
the thoughts and looks of every one were directed towards the Russian
bank. They listened for any warlike noise which might announce the
arrival of Ney, or rather his last sighs; but nothing was to be seen but
enemies who were already menacing the bridges of the Boristhenes! One of
the three leaders then wished to destroy them, but the others refused
their consent, on the ground, that this would be again separating them
from their companion in arms, and a confession that they despaired of
saving him, an idea to which, from their dread of so great a misfortune,
they could not reconcile themselves.
But with the fourth day all hope at last vanished. Night only brought
with it a wearisome repose. They blamed themselves for Ney's misfortune,
forgetting that it was utterly impossible to wait longer for the third
corps in the plains of Krasnoë, where they must have fought for another
twenty-eight hours, when they had merely strength and ammunition left
for one.
Already, as is the case in all cruel losses, they began to treasure up
recollections. Davoust was the last who had quitted the unfortunate
marshal, and Mortier and the viceroy were inquiring of him what were his
last words! At the first reports of the cannonade opened on the 15th on
Napoleon, Ney was anxious immediately to evacuate Smolensk in the suite
of the viceroy; Davoust refused, pleading the orders of the Emperor, and
the obligation to destroy the ramparts of the town. The two chiefs
became warm, and Davoust persisting to remain until the following day,
Ney, who had been appointed to bring up the rear, was compelled to wait
for him.
It is true, that on the 16th, Davoust sent to warn him of his danger;
but Ney, either from a change of opinion, or from an angry feeling
against Davoust, then returned him for answer, "That all the Cossacks in
the universe should not prevent him from executing his instructions."
After exhausting these recollections and all their conjectures, they
again relapsed into a more gloomy silence, when suddenly they heard the
steps of several horses, and then the joyful cry, "Marshal Ney is safe!
here are some Polish cavalry come to announce his approach!" One of his
officers then galloped in, and informed them that the marshal was
advancing on the right bank of the Boristhenes, and had sent him to ask
for assistance.
Night had just set in; Davoust, Eugene, and Mortier had only its short
duration to revive and animate the soldiers, who had hitherto always
bivouacked. For the first time since they left Moscow, these poor
fellows had received a sufficient quantum of provisions; they were about
to prepare them and to take their rest, warm and under cover: how was it
possible to make them resume their arms, and turn them from their
asylums during that night of rest, whose inexpressible sweets they had
just begun to taste? Who could persuade them to interrupt it, to retrace
their steps, and return once more into the darkness and frozen deserts
of Russia?
Eugene and Mortier disputed the honour of this sacrifice, and the first
only carried it in right of his superior rank. Shelter and the
distribution of provisions had effected that which threats had failed to
do. The stragglers were rallied, the viceroy again found himself at the
head of four thousand men; all were ready to march at the news of Ney's
danger; but it was their last effort.
They proceeded in the darkness, by unknown roads, and had marched two
leagues at random, halting every few minutes to listen. Their anxiety
was already increased. Had they lost their way? were they too late? had
their unfortunate comrades fallen? was it the victorious Russian army
they were about to meet? In this uncertainty, Prince Eugene directed
some cannon shot to be fired. Immediately after they fancied they heard
signals of distress on that sea of snow; they proceeded from the third
corps, which, having lost all its artillery, answered the cannon of the
fourth by some volleys of platoon firing.
The two corps were thus directed towards their meeting. Ney and Eugene
were the first to recognize each other; they ran up, Eugene more
precipitately, and threw themselves into each other's arms. Eugene wept,
Ney let some angry words escape him. The first was delighted, melted,
and elevated by the warlike heroism which his chivalrous heroism had
just saved! The latter, still heated from the combat, irritated at the
dangers which the honour of the army had run in his person, and blaming
Davoust, whom he wrongfully accused of having deserted him.
Some hours afterwards, when the latter wished to excuse himself, he
could draw nothing from Ney but a severe look, and these words,
"Monsieur le Maréchal, I have no reproaches to make to you; God is our
witness and your judge!"
When the two corps had fairly recognized each other, they no longer kept
their ranks. Soldiers, officers, generals, all ran towards each other.
Those of Eugene shook hands with those of Ney; they touched them with a
joyful mixture of astonishment and curiosity, and pressed them to their
bosoms with the tenderest compassion. The refreshments and brandy which
they had just received they lavished upon them; they overwhelmed them
with questions. They then all proceeded together in company, towards
Orcha, all impatient, Eugene's soldiers to hear, and Ney's to tell their
story.
CHAP. VIII.
They stated, that on the 17th of November they had quitted Smolensk with
twelve cannon, six thousand infantry, and three hundred cavalry, leaving
there five thousand sick at the mercy of the enemy; and that had it not
been for the noise of Platof's cannon, and the explosion of the mines,
their marshal would never have been able to bring away from the ruins of
that city seven thousand unarmed stragglers who had taken shelter in
them. They dwelt upon the attentions which their leader had shown to the
wounded, and to the women and their children, proving upon this occasion
that the bravest was again the most humane.
At the gates of the city an unnatural action struck them with a degree
of horror which was still undiminished. A mother had abandoned her
little son, only five years old; in spite of his cries and tears she had
driven him away from her sledge which was too heavily laden. She herself
cried out with a distracted air, "that _he_ had never seen France! that
_he_ would not regret it! as for _her_, _she_ knew France! _she_ was
resolved to see France once more!" Twice did Ney himself replace the
unfortunate child in the arms of his mother, twice did she cast him off
on the frozen snow.
This solitary crime, amidst a thousand instances of the most devoted and
sublime tenderness, they did not leave unpunished. The unnatural mother
was herself abandoned to the same snow from which her infant was
snatched, and entrusted to another mother; this little orphan was
exhibited in their ranks; he was afterwards seen at the Berezina, then
at Wilna, even at Kowno, and finally escaped from all the horrors of the
retreat.
The officers of Ney continued, in answer to the pressing questions of
those of Eugene; they depicted themselves advancing towards Krasnoë,
with their marshal at their head, completely across our immense wrecks,
dragging after them one afflicted multitude, and preceded by another,
whose steps were quickened by hunger.
They described how they found the bottom of each ravine filled with
helmets, hussar-caps, trunks broken open, scattered garments, carriages
and cannon, some overturned, others with the horses still harnessed, and
the poor animals worn out, expiring and half devoured.
How, near Korythinia, at the end of their first day's march, a violent
cannonading and the whistling of several bullets over their heads, had
led them to imagine that a battle had just commenced. This discharge
appeared to proceed from before and quite close to them even upon the
road, and yet they could not get sight of a single enemy. Ricard and his
division advanced with a view to discover them, but they only found, in
a turn of the road, two French batteries abandoned, with their
ammunition, and in the neighbouring field a horde of wretched Cossacks,
who immediately fled, terrified at their audacity in setting fire to
them, and at the noise they had made.
Ney's officers here interrupted their narrative to inquire in their turn
what had passed? What was the cause of the general discouragement? why
had the cannon been abandoned to the enemy untouched? Had they not had
time to spike them, or at least to spoil their ammunition?
In continuation, they said they had hitherto only discovered the traces
of a disastrous march. But next morning there was a complete change, and
they confessed their unlucky presentiments when they arrived at that
field of snow reddened with blood, sprinkled with broken cannon and
mutilated corses. The dead bodies still marked the ranks and places of
battle; they pointed them out to each other. _There_ had been the 14th
division; _there_ were still to be seen, on the broken plates of their
caps, the numbers of its regiments. _There_ had been the Italian guard;
there were its dead, whose uniforms were still distinguishable! But
where were its living remnants? Vainly did they interrogate that field
of blood, these lifeless forms, the motionless and frozen silence of the
desert and the grave! they could neither penetrate into the fate of
their companions, nor into that which awaited themselves.
Ney hurried them rapidly over all these ruins, and they had advanced
without impediment to a part of the road, where it descends into a deep
ravine, from which it rises into a broad and level height. It was that
of Katova, and the same field of battle, where, three months before, in
their triumphant march, they had beat Newerowskoi, and saluted Napoleon
with the cannon which they had taken the day before from his enemies.
They said they recollected the situation, notwithstanding the different
appearance given to it by the snow.
Mortier's officers here exclaimed, "that it was in that very position
that the Emperor and they had waited for them on the 17th, fighting all
the time." Very well, replied those of Ney, Kutusoff, or rather
Miloradowitch, occupied Napoleon's place, for the old Russian general
had not yet quitted Dobroé.
Their disbanded men were already retrograding, pointing to the snowy
plains completely black with the enemy's troops, when a Russian,
detaching himself from their army, descended the hill; he presented
himself alone to their marshal, and either from an affectation of
extreme politeness, respect for the misfortune of their leader, or dread
of the effects of his despair, covered with honied words the summons to
surrender.
It was Kutusoff who had sent him. "That field-marshal would not have
presumed to make so cruel a proposal to so great a general, to a warrior
so renowned, if there remained a single chance of safety for him. But
there were eighty thousand Russians before and around him, and if he had
any doubt of it, Kutusoff offered to let him send a person to go through
his ranks, and count his forces."
The Russian had not finished his speech, when suddenly forty discharges
of grape shot, proceeding from the right of his army, and cutting our
ranks to pieces, struck him with amazement, and interrupted what he had
to say. At the same moment a French officer darted forward, seized, and
was about to kill him as a traitor, when Ney, checking this fury, called
to him angrily, "A marshal never surrenders; there is no parleying under
an enemy's fire; you are my prisoner." The unfortunate officer was
disarmed, and placed in a situation of exposure to the fire of his own
army. He was not released until we reached Kowno, after twenty-six days
captivity, sharing all our miseries, at liberty to escape, but
restrained by his parole.
At the same time the enemy's fire became still hotter, and, as they
said, all the hills, which but an instant before looked cold and silent,
became like so many volcanoes in eruption, but that Ney became still
more elevated at it: then with a burst of enthusiasm that seemed to
return every time they had occasion to mention his name in their
narrative, they added, that in the midst of all this fire that ardent
man seemed to breathe an element exclusively his own.
Kutusoff had not deceived him. On the one side, there were eighty
thousand men in complete ranks, full, deep, well-fed, and in double
lines, a numerous cavalry, an immense artillery occupying a formidable
position, in short, every thing, and fortune to boot, which alone is
equal to all the rest. On the other side, five thousand soldiers, a
straggling and dismembered column, a wavering and languishing march,
arms defective and dirty, the greatest part mute and tottering in
enfeebled hands.
And yet the French leader had no thought of yielding, nor even of dying,
but of penetrating and cutting his way through the enemy; and that
without the least idea that he was attempting a sublime effort. Alone,
and looking no where for support, while all were supported by him, he
followed the impulse of a strong natural temperament, and the pride of a
conqueror, whom the habit of gaining improbable victories had impressed
with the belief that every thing was possible.
But what most astonished them, was, that they had been all so docile;
for all had shown themselves worthy of him, and they added, that it was
there they clearly saw that it is not merely great obstinacy, great
designs, or great temerity which constitute the great man, but
principally the power of influencing and supporting others.
Ricard and his fifteen hundred soldiers were in front. Ney impelled them
against the enemy, and prepared the rest of his army to follow them.
That division descended with the road into the ravine, but in ascending,
was driven back into it, overwhelmed by the first Russian line.
The marshal, without being intimidated, or allowing others to be so,
collected the survivors, placed them in reserve, and proceeded forward
in their place; Ledru, Razont, and Marchand seconded him. He ordered
four hundred Illyrians to take the enemy on their left flank, and with
three thousand men, he himself mounted in front to the assault. He made
no harangue; he marched at their head, setting the example, which, in a
hero, is the most eloquent of all oratorical movements, and the most
imperious of all orders. All followed him. They attacked, penetrated,
and overturned the first Russian line, and without halting were
precipitating themselves upon the second; but before they could reach
it, a volley of artillery and grape shot poured down upon them. In an
instant Ney saw all his generals wounded, the greatest part of his
soldiers killed; their ranks were empty, their shapeless column whirled
round, tottered, fell back, and drew him along with it.