Maison and his troop found themselves all at once in a manner lost in

the midst of this terrified crowd, which pressed upon them, almost

stifled them, and deprived them of the use of their arms. This general

had no other remedy than to desire his men to remain close together and

immoveable, and wait till the crowd had dispersed. The enemy's cavalry

then came up with this mass, and got entangled with it, but it could

only penetrate slowly and by cutting down. The crowd having at last

dispersed, discovered to the Russians, Maison and his soldiers waiting

for them with a determined countenance. But in its flight, the crowd had

drawn along with it a portion of our combatants. Maison, in an open

plain, and with seven or eight hundred men against thousands of enemies,

lost all hope of safety; he was already seeking only to gain a wood not

far off, in order to sell their lives more dearly, when he saw coming

out of it eighteen hundred Poles, a troop quite fresh, which Ney had met

with and brought to his assistance. This reinforcement stopped the

enemy, and secured the retreat as far as Malodeczno.

On the 4th of December, about four o'clock in the afternoon, Ney and

Maison got within sight of that village, which Napoleon had quitted in

the morning. Tchaplitz followed them close. Ney had now only six hundred

men remaining with him. The weakness of this rear-guard, the approach of

night, and the prospect of a place of shelter, excited the ardour of the

Russian general; he made a warm attack. Ney and Maison, perfectly

certain that they would die of cold on the high-road, if they allowed

themselves to be driven beyond that cantonment, preferred perishing in

defending it.

They halted at its entrance, and as their artillery horses were dying,

they gave up all idea of saving their cannon; determined however that it

should do its duty for the last time in crushing the enemy, they formed

every piece they possessed into a battery, and made a tremendous fire.

Tchaplitz's attacking column was entirely broken by it, and halted. But

that general, availing himself of his superior forces, diverted a part

of them to another entrance, and his first troops had already crossed

the inclosures of Malodeczno, when all at once, they there encountered a

fresh enemy.

As good luck would have it, Victor, with about four thousand men, the

remains of the ninth corps, still occupied this village. The fury on

both sides was extreme; the first houses were several times taken and

retaken. The combat on both sides was much less for glory than to keep

or acquire a refuge against the destructive cold. It was not until

half-past eleven at night that the Russians gave up the contest, and

went from it half frozen, to seek for another in the surrounding

villages.

The following day, December 5th, Ney and Maison had expected that the

Duke of Belluno would replace them at the rear-guard; but they found

that that marshal had retired, according to his instructions, and that

they were left alone in Malodeczno with only sixty men. All the rest had

fled; the rigour of the climate had completely knocked up their

soldiers, whom the Russians to the very last moment were unable to

conquer; their arms fell from their hands, and they themselves fell at a

few paces distance from their arms.

Maison, who united great vigour of mind with a very strong constitution,

was not intimidated; he continued his retreat to Bienitza, rallying at

every step men who were incessantly escaping from him, but still

continuing to give proofs of the existence of a rear-guard, with a few

foot-soldiers. This was all that was required; for the Russians

themselves were frozen, and obliged to disperse before night into the

neighbouring habitations, which they durst not quit until it was

completely daylight. They then recommenced their pursuit of us, but

without making any attack; for with the exception of some numb efforts,

the violence of the temperature was such as not to allow either party to

halt with the view of making an attack, or of defending themselves.

In the mean time, Ney, being surprised at Victor's departure, went after

him, overtook him, and tried to prevail upon him to halt; but the Duke

of Belluno, having orders to retreat, refused. Ney then wanted him to

give him up his soldiers, offering to take the command of them; but

Victor would neither consent to do that, nor to take the rear-guard

without express orders. In the altercation which arose in consequence

between these two, the Prince of the Moskwa gave way to his passion in a

most violent manner, without producing any effect on the coolness of

Victor. At last an order of the Emperor arrived; Victor was instructed

to support the retreat, and Ney was summoned to Smorgoni.

CHAP. XIII.

Napoleon had just arrived there amidst a crowd of dying men, devoured

with chagrin, but not allowing the least emotion to exhibit itself in

his countenance, at the sight of these unhappy men's sufferings, who, on

the other hand, had allowed no murmurs to escape them in his presence.

It is true that a seditious movement was impossible; it would have

required an additional effort, as the strength of every man was fully

occupied in struggling with hunger, cold, and fatigue; it would have

required union, agreement, and mutual understanding, while famine and so

many evils separated and isolated them, by concentrating every man's

feelings completely in himself. Far from exhausting themselves in

provocations or complaints, they marched along silently, exerting all

their efforts against a hostile atmosphere, and diverted from every

other idea by a state of continual action and suffering. Their physical

wants absorbed their whole moral strength; they thus lived mechanically

in their sensations, continuing in their duty from recollection, from

the impressions which they had received in better times, and in no

slight degree from that sense of honour and love of glory which had been

inspired by twenty years of victory, and the warmth of which still

survived and struggled within them.

The authority of the commanders also remained complete and respected,

because it had always been eminently paternal, and because the dangers,

the triumphs, and the calamities had always been shared in common. It

was an unhappy family, the head of which was perhaps the most to be

pitied. The Emperor and the grand army, therefore, preserved towards

each other a melancholy and noble silence; they were both too proud to

utter complaints, and too experienced not to feel the inutility of them.

Meantime, however, Napoleon had entered precipitately into his last

imperial head-quarters; he there finished his final instructions, as

well as the 29th and last bulletin of his expiring army. Precautions

were taken in his inner apartment, that nothing of what was about to

take place there should transpire until the following day.

But the presentiment of a last misfortune seized his officers; all of

them would have wished to follow him. Their hearts yearned after France,

to be once more in the bosom of their families, and to flee from this

horrible climate; but not one of them ventured to express a wish of the

kind; duty and honour restrained them.

While they affected a tranquillity which they were far from tasting, the

night and the moment which the Emperor had fixed for declaring his

resolution to the commanders of the army arrived. All the marshals were

summoned. As they successively entered, he took each of them aside in

private, and first of all gained their approbation of his plan, of some

by his arguments, and of others by confidential effusions.

Thus it was, that on perceiving Davoust, he ran forward to meet him, and

asked him why it was that he never saw him, and if he had entirely

deserted him? And upon Davoust's reply that he fancied he had incurred

his displeasure, the Emperor explained himself mildly, received his

answers favourably, confided to him the road he meant to travel, and

took his advice, respecting its details.

His manner was kind and flattering to them all; afterwards, having

assembled them at his table, he complimented them for their noble

actions during the campaign. As to himself, the only confession he made

of his temerity was couched in these words: "If I had been born to the

throne, if I had been a Bourbon, it would have been easy for me not to

have committed any faults."

When their entertainment was over, he made Prince Eugene read to them

his twenty-ninth bulletin; after which, declaring aloud what he had

already confided to each of them, he told them, "that he was about to

depart that very night with Duroc, Caulaincourt, and Lobau, for Paris.

That his presence there was indispensable for France as well as for the

remains of his unfortunate army. It was there only he could take

measures for keeping the Austrians and Prussians in check. These nations

would certainly pause before they declared war against him, when they

saw him at the head of the French nation, and a fresh army of twelve

hundred thousand men."

He added, that "he had ordered Ney to proceed to Wilna, there to

reorganise the army. That Rapp would second him, and afterwards go to

Dantzic, Lauriston to Warsaw, and Narbonne to Berlin; that his household

would remain with the army; but that it would be necessary to strike a

blow at Wilna, and stop the enemy there. There they would find Loison,

De Wrede, reinforcements, provisions, and ammunition of all sorts;

afterwards they would go into winter-quarters on the other side of the

Niemen; that he hoped the Russians would not pass the Vistula before his

return."

In conclusion, "I leave the King of Naples to command the army. I hope

that you will yield him the same obedience as you would to myself, and

that the greatest harmony will prevail among you."

As it was now ten o'clock at night, he then rose, squeezed their hands

affectionately, embraced them, and departed.

BOOK XII.

CHAP. I.

Comrades! I must confess that my spirit, discouraged, refused to

penetrate farther into the recollection of so many horrors. Having

arrived at the departure of Napoleon, I had flattered myself that my

task was completed. I had announced myself as the historian of that

great epoch, when we were precipitated from the highest summit of glory

to the deepest abyss of misfortune; but now that nothing remains for me

to retrace but the most frightful miseries, why should we not spare

ourselves, you the pain of reading them, and myself that of tasking a

memory which has now only to rake up embers, nothing but disasters to

reckon, and which can no longer write but upon tombs?

But as it was our fate to push bad as well as good fortune to the utmost

verge of improbability, I will endeavour to keep the promise I have made

you to the conclusion. Moreover, when the history of great men relates

even their last moments, how can I conceal the last sighs of the grand

army when it was expiring? Every thing connected with it appertains to

renown, its dying groans as well as its cries of victory. Every thing in

it was grand; it will be our lot to astonish future ages with our glory

and our sorrow. Melancholy consolation! but the only one that remains to

us; for doubt it not, comrades, the noise of so great a fall will echo

in that futurity, in which great misfortunes immortalize as much as

great glory.

Napoleon passed through the crowd of his officers, who were drawn up in

an avenue as he passed, bidding them adieu merely by forced and

melancholy smiles; their good wishes, equally silent, and expressed only

by respectful gestures, he carried with him. He and Caulaincourt shut

themselves up in a carriage; his Mameluke, and Wonsowitch, captain of

his guard, occupied the box; Duroc and Lobau followed in a sledge.

His escort at first consisted only of Poles; afterwards of the

Neapolitans of the royal guard. This corps consisted of between six and

seven hundred men, when it left Wilna to meet the Emperor; it perished

entirely in that short passage; the winter was its only adversary. That

very night the Russians surprised and afterwards abandoned Youpranoui,

(or, as others say, Osmiana,) a town through which the escort had to

pass. Napoleon was within an hour of falling into that affray.

He met the Duke of Bassano at Miedniki. His first words to him were,

"that he had no longer an army; that for several days past he had been

marching in the midst of a troop of disbanded men wandering to and fro

in search of subsistence; that they might still be rallied by giving

them bread, shoes, clothing, and arms; but that the Duke's military

administration had anticipated nothing, and his orders had not been

executed." But upon Maret replying, by showing him a statement of the

immense magazines collected at Wilna, he exclaimed, "that he gave him

fresh life! that he would give him an order to transmit to Murat and

Berthier to halt for eight days in that capital, there to rally the

army, and infuse into it sufficient heart and strength to continue the

retreat less deplorably."

The subsequent part of Napoleon's journey was effected without

molestation. He went round Wilna by its suburbs, crossed Wilkowiski,

where he exchanged his carriage for a sledge, stopped during the 10th at

Warsaw, to ask the Poles for a levy of ten thousand Cossacks, to grant

them some subsidies, and to promise them he would speedily return at the

head of three hundred thousand men. From thence he rapidly crossed

Silesia, visited Dresden, and its monarch, passed through Hanau, Mentz,

and finally got to Paris, where he suddenly made his appearance on the

19th of December, two days after the appearance of his twenty-ninth

bulletin.

From Malo-Yaroslawetz to Smorgoni, this master of Europe had been no

more than the general of a dying and disbanded army. From Smorgoni to

the Rhine, he was an unknown fugitive, travelling through a hostile

country; beyond the Rhine he again found himself the master and the

conqueror of Europe. A last breeze of the wind of prosperity once more

swelled his sails.

Meanwhile, his generals, whom he left at Smorgoni, approved of his

departure, and, far from being discouraged, placed all their hopes in

it. The army had now only to flee, the road was open, and the Russian

frontier at a very short distance. They were getting within reach of a

reinforcement of eighteen thousand men, all fresh troops, of a great

city, and immense magazines. Murat and Berthier, left to themselves,

fancied themselves able to regulate the flight. But in the midst of the

extreme disorder, it required a colossus for a rallying point, and he

had just disappeared. In the great chasm which he left, Murat was

scarcely perceptible.

It was then too clearly seen that a great man is not replaced, either

because the pride of his followers can no longer stoop to obey another,

or that having always thought of, foreseen, and ordered every thing

himself, he had only formed good instruments, skilful lieutenants, but

no commanders.

The very first night, a general refused to obey. The marshal who

commanded the rear-guard was almost the only one who returned to the

royal head-quarters. Three thousand men of the old and young guard were

still there. This was the whole of the grand army, and of that gigantic

body there remained nothing but the head. But at the news of Napoleon's

departure, these veterans, spoiled by the habit of being commanded only

by the conqueror of Europe, being no longer supported by the honour of

serving him, and scorning to act as guards to another, gave way in their

turn, and voluntarily fell into disorder.

Most of the colonels of the army, who had hitherto been such subjects of

admiration, and had marched on, with only four or five officers or

soldiers around their eagle, preserving their place of battle, now

followed no orders but their own; each of them fancied himself entrusted

with his own safety, and looked only to himself for it. Men there were

who marched two hundred leagues without even looking round. It was an

almost general _sauve-qui-peut_.

The Emperor's disappearance and Murat's incapacity were not, however,

the only causes of this dispersion; the principal certainly was the

severity of the winter, which at that moment became extreme. It

aggravated every thing, and seemed to have planted itself completely

between Wilna and the army.

Till we arrived at Malodeczno, and up to the 4th of December, the day

when it set in upon us with such violence, the march, although painful,

had been marked by a smaller number of deaths than before we reached the

Berezina. This respite was partly owing to the vigorous efforts of Ney

and Maison, which had kept the enemy in check, to the then milder

temperature, to the supplies which were obtained from a less ravaged

country, and, finally, to the circumstance that they were the strongest

men who had escaped from the passage of the Berezina.

The partial organization which had been introduced into the disorder was

kept up. The mass of runaways kept on their way, divided into a number

of petty associations of eight or ten men. Many of these bands still

possessed a horse, which carried their provisions, and was himself

finally destined to be converted to that purpose. A covering of rags,

some utensils, a knapsack, and a stick, formed the accoutrements and the

armour of these poor fellows. They no longer possessed either the arms

or the uniform of a soldier, nor the desire of combating any other

enemies than hunger and cold; but they still retained perseverance,

firmness, the habit of danger and suffering, and a spirit always ready,

pliant, and quick in making the most of their situation. Finally, among

the soldiers still under arms, the dread of a nickname, by which they

themselves ridiculed their comrades who had fallen into disorder,

retained some influence.

But after leaving Malodeczno, and the departure of Napoleon, when winter

with all its force, and doubled in severity, attacked each of us, there

was a complete dissolution of all those associations against misfortune.

It was no longer any thing but a multitude of isolated and individual

struggles. The best no longer respected themselves; nothing stopped

them; no speaking looks detained them; misfortune was hopeless of

assistance, and even of regret; discouragement had no longer judges to

condemn, or witnesses to prove it; all were its victims.

Henceforward there was no longer fraternity in arms, there was an end to

all society, to all ties; the excess of evils had brutified them.

Hunger, devouring hunger, had reduced these unfortunate men to the

brutal instinct of self-preservation, all which constitutes the

understanding of the most ferocious animals, and which is ready to

sacrifice every thing to itself; a rough and barbarous nature seemed to

have communicated to them all its fury. Like savages, the strongest

despoiled the weakest; they rushed round the dying, and frequently

waited not for their last breath. When a horse fell, you might have

fancied you saw a famished pack of hounds; they surrounded him, they

tore him to pieces, for which they quarrelled among themselves like

ravenous dogs.

The greater number, however, preserved sufficient moral strength to

consult their own safety without injuring others; but this was the last

effort of their virtue. If either leader or comrade fell by their side,

or under the wheels of the cannon, in vain did they call for assistance,

in vain did they invoke the names of a common country, religion, and

cause; they could not even obtain a passing look. The cold inflexibility

of the climate had completely passed into their hearts; its rigour had

contracted their feelings equally with their countenances. With the

exception of a few of the commanders, all were absorbed by their

sufferings, and terror left no room for compassion.

Thus it was that the same egotism with which excessive prosperity has

been reproached, was produced by the excess of misfortune, but much more

excusable in the latter; the first being voluntary, and the last

compulsive; the first a crime of the heart, and the other an impulse of

instinct entirely physical; and certainly it was hazarding one's life to

stop for an instant. In this universal shipwreck, the stretching forth

one's hand to a dying leader or comrade was a wonderful act of

generosity. The least movement of humanity became a sublime action.

There were a few, however, who stood firm against both heaven and earth;

these protected and assisted the weakest; but these were indeed rare.

CHAP. II.

On the 6th of December, the very day after Napoleon's departure, the sky

exhibited a still more dreadful appearance. You might see icy particles

floating in the air; the birds fell from it quite stiff and frozen. The

atmosphere was motionless and silent; it seemed as if every thing which

possessed life and movement in nature, the wind itself, had been seized,

chained, and as it were frozen by an universal death. Not the least word

or murmur was then heard: nothing but the gloomy silence of despair and

the tears which proclaimed it.

We flitted along in this empire of death like unhappy spirits. The dull

and monotonous sound of our steps, the cracking of the snow, and the

feeble groans of the dying, were the only interruptions to this vast and

doleful silence. Anger and imprecations there were none, nor any thing

which indicated a remnant of heat; scarcely did strength enough remain

to utter a prayer; most of them even fell without complaining, either

from weakness or resignation, or because people only complain when they

look for kindness, and fancy they are pitied.

Such of our soldiers as had hitherto been the most persevering, here

lost heart entirely. Sometimes the snow opened under their feet, but

more frequently its glassy surface affording them no support, they

slipped at every step, and marched from one fall to another. It seemed

as if this hostile soil refused to carry them, that it escaped under

their efforts, that it led them into snares, as if to embarrass and

slacken their march, and deliver them to the Russians who were in

pursuit of them, or to their terrible climate.

And really, whenever they halted for a moment from exhaustion, the

winter, laying his heavy and icy hand upon them, was ready to seize upon

his prey. In vain did these poor unfortunates, feeling themselves

benumbed, raise themselves, and already deprived of the power of speech

and plunged into a stupor, proceed a few steps like automatons; their

blood freezing in their veins, like water in the current of rivulets,

congealed their heart, and then flew back to their head; these dying men

then staggered as if they had been intoxicated. From their eyes, which

were reddened and inflamed by the continual aspect of the snow, by the

want of sleep, and the smoke of bivouacs, there flowed real tears of

blood; their bosom heaved heavy sighs; they looked at heaven, at us, and

at the earth, with an eye dismayed, fixed and wild; it expressed their

farewell, and perhaps their reproaches to the barbarous nature which

tortured them. They were not long before they fell upon their knees, and

then upon their hands; their heads still wavered for a few minutes

alternately to the right and left, and from their open mouth some

agonizing sounds escaped; at last it fell in its turn upon the snow,

which it reddened immediately with livid blood; and their sufferings

were at an end.

Their comrades passed by them without moving a step out of their way,

for fear of prolonging their journey, or even turning their head, for

their beards and their hair were stiffened with the ice, and every

moment was a pain. They did not even pity them; for, in short, what had

they lost by dying? what had they left behind them? They suffered so

much; they were still so far from France; so much divested of feelings

of country by the surrounding aspect, and by misery; that every dear

illusion was broken, and hope almost destroyed. The greater number,

therefore, were become careless of dying, from necessity, from the habit

of seeing it, and from fashion, sometimes even treating it

contemptuously; but more frequently, on seeing these unfortunates

stretched out, and immediately stiffened, contenting themselves with the

thought that they had no more wishes, that they were at rest, that their

sufferings were terminated! And, in fact, death, in a situation quiet,

certain, and uniform, may be always a strange event, a frightful

contrast, a terrible revolution; but in this tumult and violent and

continual movement of a life of constant action, danger, and suffering,

it appeared nothing more than a transition, a slight change, an

additional removal, and which excited little alarm.

Such, were the last _days_ of the grand army. Its last _nights_ were

still more frightful; those whom they surprised marching together, far

from every habitation, halted on the borders of the woods; there they

lighted their fires, before which they remained the whole night, erect

and motionless like spectres. They seemed as if they could never have

enough of the heat; they kept so close to it as to burn their clothes,

as well as the frozen parts of their body, which the fire decomposed.

The most dreadful pain then compelled them to stretch themselves, and

the next day they attempted in vain to rise.

In the mean time, such as the winter had almost wholly spared, and who

still retained some portion of courage, prepared their melancholy meal.

It consisted, ever since they had left Smolensk, of some slices of

horse-flesh broiled, and some rye-meal diluted into a _bouillie_ with

snow water, or kneaded into muffins, which they seasoned, for want of

salt, with the powder of their cartridges.

The sight of these fires was constantly attracting fresh spectres, who

were driven back by the first comers. These poor wretches wandered about

from one bivouac to another, until they were struck by the frost and

despair together, and gave themselves up for lost. They then laid

themselves down upon the snow, behind their more fortunate comrades, and

there expired. Many of them, devoid of the means and the strength

necessary to cut down the lofty fir trees, made vain attempts to set

fire to them at the trunk; but death speedily surprised them around

these trees in every sort of attitude.

Under the vast pent-houses which are erected by the sides of the high

road in some parts of the way, scenes of still greater horror were

witnessed. Officers and soldiers all rushed precipitately into them, and

crowded together in heaps. There, like so many cattle, they squeezed

against each other round the fires, and as the living could not remove

the dead from the circle, they laid themselves down upon them, there to

expire in their turn, and serve as a bed of death to some fresh victims.

In a short time additional crowds of stragglers presented themselves,

and being unable to penetrate into these asylums of suffering, they

completely besieged them.

It frequently happened that they demolished their walls, which were

formed of dry wood, in order to feed their fires; at other times,

repulsed and disheartened, they were contented to use them as shelters

to their bivouacs, the flames of which very soon communicated to these

habitations, and the soldiers whom they contained, already half dead

with the cold, were completely killed by the fire. Such of us as these

places of shelter preserved, found next day our comrades lying frozen

and in heaps around their extinguished fires. To escape from these

catacombs, a horrible effort was required to enable them to climb over

the heaps of these poor wretches, many of whom were still breathing.

At Youpranoui, the same village where the Emperor only missed by an hour

being taken by the Russian partizan Seslawin, the soldiers burnt the

houses completely as they stood, merely to warm themselves for a few

minutes. The light of these fires attracted some of these miserable

wretches, whom the excessive severity of the cold and their sufferings

had rendered delirious; they ran to them like madmen, and gnashing their

teeth and laughing like demons, they threw themselves into these

furnaces, where they perished in the most horrible convulsions. Their

famished companions regarded them undismayed; there were even some who

drew out these bodies, disfigured and broiled by the flames, and it is

but too true, that they ventured to pollute their mouths with this

loathsome food!

This was the same army which had been formed from the most civilized

nation in Europe; that army, formerly so brilliant, which was victorious

over men to its last moment, and whose name still reigned in so many

conquered capitals. Its strongest and bravest warriors, who had recently

been proudly traversing so many scenes of their victories, had lost

their noble countenance; covered with rags, their feet naked and torn,

supporting themselves on branches of fir tree, they dragged themselves

along; all the strength and perseverance which they had hitherto put

forth in order to conquer, they now made use of to flee.

Then it was, that, like superstitious nations, we also had our

prognostications, and heard talk of prophecies. Some pretended that a

comet had enlightened our passage across the Berezina with its

ill-omened fire; it is true that they added, "that doubtless these stars

did not foretel the great events of this world, but that they might

certainly contribute to modify them; at least, if we admitted their

material influence upon our globe, and all the consequences which that

influence may exercise upon the human mind, so far as it is dependant on

the matter which it animates."

There were others who quoted ancient predictions, which, they said, "had

announced for that period, an invasion of the Tartars as far as the

banks of the Seine. And, behold! they were already at liberty to pass

over the overthrown French army, and in a fair way to accomplish that

prediction."

Some again there were, who were reminding each other of the awful and

destructive storm which had signalized our entrance on the Russian

territory. "Then it was heaven itself that spoke! Behold the calamity

which it predicted! Nature had made an effort to prevent this

catastrophe! Why had we been obstinately deaf to her voice?" So much did

this simultaneous fall of four hundred thousand men (an event which was

not in fact more extraordinary than the host of epidemical disorders and

of revolutions which are constantly ravaging the globe) appear to them

an extraordinary and unique event, which must have occupied all the

powers of heaven and earth; so much is our understanding led to bring

home every thing to itself; as if Providence, in compassion to our

weakness, and from the fear of its annihilating itself at the prospect

of eternity, had so ordered it, that every man, a mere point in space,

should act and feel as if he himself was the centre of immensity.

CHAP. III.

The army was in this last state of physical and moral distress, when its

first fugitives reached Wilna. Wilna! their magazine, their depôt, the

first rich and inhabited city which they had met with since their

entrance into Russia. Its name alone, and its proximity, still supported

the courage of a few.

On the 9th of December, the greatest part of these poor soldiers at last

arrived within sight of that capital. Instantly, some dragging

themselves along, others rushing forward, they all precipitated

themselves headlong into its suburbs, pushing obstinately before them,

and crowding together so fast, that they formed but one mass of men,

horses, and chariots, motionless, and deprived of the power of movement.

The clearing away of this crowd by a narrow passage became almost

impossible. Those who came behind, guided by a stupid instinct, added to

the incumbrance, without the least idea of entering the city by its

other entrances, of which there were several. But there was such

complete disorganization, that during the whole of that fatal day, not a

single staff-officer made his appearance to direct these men to them.

For the space of ten hours, with the cold at 27 and even at 28 degrees,

thousands of soldiers who fancied themselves in safety, died either from

cold or suffocation, just as had happened at the gates of Smolensk, and

at the bridges across the Berezina. Sixty thousand men had crossed that

river, and twenty thousand recruits had since joined them; of these

eighty thousand, half had already perished, the greater part within the

last four days, between Malodeczno and Wilna.

The capital of Lithuania was still ignorant of our disasters, when, all

at once, forty thousand famished soldiers filled it with groans and

lamentations. At this unexpected sight, its inhabitants became alarmed,

and shut their doors. Deplorable then was it to see these troops of

wretched wanderers in the streets, some furious and others desperate,

threatening or entreating, endeavouring to break open the doors of the

houses and the magazines, or dragging themselves to the hospitals.

Everywhere they were repulsed; at the magazines, from most unseasonable

formalities, as, from the dissolution of the corps and the mixture of

the soldiers, all regular distribution had become impossible.

There had been collected there sufficient flour and bread to last for

forty days, and butcher's meat for thirty-six days, for one hundred

thousand men. Not a single commander ventured to step forward and give

orders for distributing these provisions to all that came for them. The

administrators who had them in charge were afraid of being made

responsible for them; and the others dreaded the excesses to which the

famished soldiers would give themselves up, when every thing was at

their discretion. These administrators besides were ignorant of our

desperate situation, and when there was scarcely time for pillage, had

they been so inclined, our unfortunate comrades were left for several

hours to die of hunger at the very doors of these immense magazines of

provisions, all of which fell into the enemy's hands the following day.

At the barracks and the hospitals they were equally repulsed, but not by

the living, for there death held sway supreme. The few who still

breathed complained that for a long time they had been without beds,

even without straw, and almost deserted. The courts, the passages, and

even the apartments were filled with heaps of dead bodies; they were so

many charnel houses of infection.

At last, the exertions of several of the commanders, such as Eugene and

Davoust, the compassion of the Lithuanians, and the avarice of the Jews,

opened some places of refuge. Nothing could be more remarkable than the

astonishment which these unfortunate men displayed at finding themselves

once more in inhabited houses. How delicious did a loaf of leavened

bread appear to them, and how inexpressible the pleasure of eating it

seated! and afterwards, with what admiration were they struck at seeing

a scanty battalion still under arms, in regular order, and uniformly

dressed! They seemed to have returned from the very extremities of the

earth; so much had the violence and continuity of their sufferings torn

and cast them from all their habits, so deep had been the abyss from

which they had escaped!

But scarcely had they begun to taste these sweets, when the cannon of

the Russians commenced thundering over their heads and upon the city.

These threatening sounds, the shouts of the officers, the drums beating

to arms, and the wailings and clamour of an additional multitude of

unfortunates, which had just arrived, filled Wilna with fresh confusion.

It was the vanguard of Kutusoff and Tchaplitz, commanded by O'Rourke,

Landskoy, and Seslawin, which had attacked Loison's division, which was

protecting the city, as well as the retreat of a column of dismounted

cavalry, on its way to Olita, by way of Novoï-Troky.

At first an attempt was made to resist. De Wrede and his Bavarians had

also just rejoined the army by Naroc-Zwiransky and Niamentchin. They

were pursued by Wittgenstein, who from Kamen and Vileika hung upon our

right flank, at the same time that Kutusoff and Tchitchakof pursued us.

De Wrede had not two thousand men left under his command. As to Loison's

division and the garrison of Wilna, which had come to meet us as far as

Smorgoni, and render us assistance, the cold had reduced them from

fifteen thousand men to three thousand in the space of three days.

De Wrede defended Wilna on the side of Rukoni; he was obliged to fall

back after a gallant resistance. Loison and his division, on his side,

which was nearer to Wilna, kept the enemy in check. They had succeeded

in making a Neapolitan division take arms, and even to go out of the

city, but the muskets actually slipped from the hands of these "children

of the sun" transplanted to a region of ice. In less than an hour they

all returned disarmed, and the best part of them maimed.

At the same time, the _générale_ was ineffectually beat in the streets;

the old guard itself, now reduced to a few platoons, remained dispersed.

Every one thought much more of disputing his life with famine and the

cold than with the enemy. But when the cry of "Here are the Cossacks"

was heard, (which for a long time had been the only signal which the

greater number obeyed,) it echoed immediately throughout the whole city,

and the rout again began.

De Wrede presented himself unexpectedly before the king of Naples. He

said, "the enemy were close at his heels! the Bavarians had been driven

back into Wilna, which they could no longer defend." At the same time,

the noise of the tumult reached the king's ears. Murat was astonished;

fancying himself no longer master of the army, he lost all command of

himself. He instantly quitted his palace on foot, and was seen forcing

his way through the crowd. He seemed to be afraid of a skirmish, in the

midst of a crowd similar to that of the day before. He halted, however,

at the last house in the suburbs, from whence he despatched his orders,

and where he waited for daylight and the army, leaving Ney in charge of

the rest.

Wilna might have been defended for twenty-four hours longer, and many

men might have been saved. This fatal city retained nearly twenty

thousand, including three hundred officers and seven generals. Most of

them had been wounded by the winter more than by the enemy, who had the

merit of the triumph. Several others were still in good health, to all

appearance at least, but their moral strength was completely exhausted.

After courageously battling with so many difficulties, they lost heart

when they were near the port, at the prospect of four more days' march.

They had at last found themselves once more in a civilized city, and

sooner than make up their minds to return to the desert, they placed

themselves at the mercy of Fortune; she treated them cruelly.

It is true that the Lithuanians, although we had compromised them so

much, and were now abandoning them, received into their houses and

succoured several; but the Jews, whom we had protected, repelled the

others. They did even more; the sight of so many sufferers excited their

cupidity. Had their detestable avarice been contented with speculating

upon our miseries, and selling us some feeble succours for their weight

in gold, history would scorn to sully her pages with the disgusting

detail; but they enticed our unhappy wounded men into their houses,

stripped them, and afterwards, on seeing the Russians, threw the naked

bodies of these dying victims from the doors and windows of their houses

into the streets, and there unmercifully left them to perish of cold;

these vile barbarians even made a merit in the eyes of the Russians of

torturing them there; such horrible crimes as these must be denounced to

the present and to future ages. Now that our hands are become impotent,

it is probable that our indignation against these monsters may be their

sole punishment in this world; but a day will come, when the assassins

will again meet their victims, and there certainly, divine justice will

avenge us!

On the 10th of December, Ney, who had again voluntarily taken upon

himself the command of the rear-guard, left that city, which was

immediately after inundated by the Cossacks of Platof, who massacred all

the poor wretches whom the Jews threw in their way. In the midst of this

butchery, there suddenly appeared a piquet of thirty French, coming from

the bridge of the Vilia, where they had been left and forgotten. At

sight of this fresh prey, thousands of Russian horsemen came hurrying

up, besetting them with loud cries, and assailing them on all sides.

But the officer commanding this piquet had already drawn up his soldiers

in a circle. Without hesitation, he ordered them to fire, and then,

making them present bayonets, proceeded at the _pas de charge_. In an

instant all fled before him; he remained in possession of the city; but

without feeling more surprise about the cowardice of the Cossacks, than

he had done at their attack, he took advantage of the moment, turned

sharply round, and succeeded in rejoining the rear-guard without any

loss.

The latter was engaged with Kutusoff's vanguard, which it was

endeavouring to drive back; for another catastrophe, which it vainly

attempted to cover, detained it at a short distance from Wilna.

There, as well as at Moscow, Napoleon had given no regular order for

retreat; he was anxious that our defeat should have no forerunner, but

that it should proclaim itself, and take our allies and their ministers

by surprise, and that, taking advantage of their first astonishment, it

might be able to pass through those nations before they were prepared to

join the Russians and overpower us.

This was the reason why the Lithuanians, foreigners, and every one at

Wilna, even to the minister himself, had been deceived. They did not

believe our disaster until they saw it; and in that, the almost

superstitious belief of Europe in the infallibility of the genius of

Napoleon was of use to him against his allies. But the same confidence

had buried his own officers in a profound security; at Wilna, as well as

at Moscow, not one of them was prepared for a movement of any

description.

This city contained a large proportion of the baggage of the army, and

of its treasures, its provisions, a crowd of enormous waggons, loaded

with the Emperor's equipage, a large quantity of artillery, and a great

number of wounded men. Our retreat had come upon them like an unexpected

storm, almost like a thunderbolt. Some were terrified and thrown into

confusion, while consternation kept others motionless. Orders, men,

horses, and carriages, were running about in all directions, crossing

and overturning each other.

In the midst of this tumult, several of the commanders pushed forward

out of the city, towards Kowno, with every thing they could contrive to

carry with them; but at the distance of a league from the latter place

this heavy and frightened column had encountered the height and the

defile of Ponari.

During our conquering march, this woody hillock had only appeared to our

hussars a fortunate accident of the ground, from which they could

discover the whole plain of Wilna, and take a survey of their enemies.

Besides, its rough but short declination had scarcely been remarked.

During a regular retreat it would have presented an excellent position

for turning round and stopping the enemy: but in a disorderly flight,

where every thing that might be of service became injurious, where in

our precipitation and disorder, every thing was turned against

ourselves, this hill and its defile became an insurmountable obstacle, a

wall of ice, against which all our efforts were powerless. It detained

every thing, baggage, treasure, and wounded. The evil was sufficiently

great in this long series of disasters to form an epoch.

Here, in fact, it was, that money, honour, and every remains of

discipline and strength were completely lost. After fifteen hours of

fruitless efforts, when the drivers and the soldiers of the escort saw

the King of Naples and the whole column of fugitives passing them by the

sides of the hill, when turning their eyes at the noise of the cannon

and musquetry which was coming nearer them every instant they saw Ney

himself retreating with three thousand men (the remains of De Wrede's

corps and Loison's division); when at last turning their eyes back to

themselves, they saw the hill completely covered with cannon and

carriages, broken or overturned, men and horses fallen to the ground,

and expiring one upon the other,--then it was, that they gave up all

idea of saving any thing, and determined only to anticipate the enemy by

plundering themselves.

One of the covered waggons of treasure, which burst open of itself,

served as a signal; every one rushed to the others; they were

immediately broken, and the most valuable effects taken from them. The

soldiers of the rear-guard, who were passing at the time of this

disorder, threw away their arms to join in the plunder; they were so

eagerly engaged in it as neither to hear nor to pay attention to the

whistling of the balls and the howling of the Cossacks in pursuit of

them.

It is even said that the Cossacks got mixed among them without being

observed. For some minutes, French and Tartars, friends and foes, were

confounded in the same greediness. French and Russians, forgetting they

were at war, were seen pillaging together the same treasure-waggons. Ten

millions of gold and silver then disappeared.

But amidst all these horrors, there were noble acts of devotion. Some

there were, who abandoned every thing to save some unfortunate wounded

by carrying them on their shoulders; several others, being unable to

extricate their half-frozen comrades from this medley, lost their lives

in defending them from the attacks of their countrymen, and the blows of

their enemies.

On the most exposed part of the hill, an officer of the Emperor, Colonel

the Count de Turenne, repulsed the Cossacks, and in defiance of their

cries of rage and their fire, he distributed before their eyes the

private treasure of Napoleon to the guards whom he found within his

reach. These brave men, fighting with one hand and collecting the spoils

of their leader with the other, succeeded in saving them. Long

afterwards, when they were out of all danger, each man faithfully

restored the depôt which had been entrusted to him. Not a single piece

of money was lost.

CHAP. IV.

This catastrophe at Ponari was the more disgraceful, as it was easy to

foresee, and equally easy to prevent it; for the hill could have been

turned by its sides. The fragments which we abandoned, however, were at

least of some use in arresting the pursuit of the Cossacks. While these

were busy in collecting their prey, Ney, at the head of a few hundred

French and Bavarians, supported the retreat as far as Evé. As this was

his last effort, we must not omit the description of his method of

retreat which he had followed ever since he left Wiazma, on the 3d of

November, during thirty-seven days and thirty-seven nights.

Every day, at 5 o'clock in the evening, he took his position, stopped

the Russians, allowed his soldiers to eat and take some rest, and

resumed his march at 10 o'clock. During the whole of the night, he

pushed the mass of the stragglers before him, by dint of cries, of

entreaties, and of blows. At daybreak, which was about 7 o'clock, he

halted, again took position, and rested under arms and on guard until 10

o'clock; the enemy then made his appearance, and he was compelled to

fight until the evening, gaining as much or as little ground in the rear

as possible. That depended at first on the general order of march, and

at a later period upon circumstances.

For a long time this rear-guard did not consist of more than two

thousand, then of one thousand, afterwards about five hundred, and

finally of sixty men; and yet Berthier, either designedly or from mere

routine, made no change in his instructions. These were always addressed

to the commander of a corps of thirty-five thousand men; in them he

coolly detailed all the different positions, which were to be taken up

and guarded until the next day, by divisions and regiments which no

longer existed. And every night, when, in consequence of Ney's urgent

warnings, he was obliged to go and awake the King of Naples, and compel

him to resume his march, he testified the same astonishment.

In this manner did Ney support the retreat from Wiazma to Evé, and a few

wersts beyond it. There, according to his usual custom, he had stopped

the Russians, and was giving the first hours of the night to rest, when,

about ten o'clock, he and De Wrede perceived that they had been left

alone. Their soldiers had deserted them, as well as their arms, which

they saw shining and piled together close to their abandoned fires.

Fortunately the intensity of the cold, which had just completed the

discouragement of our people, had also benumbed their enemies. Ney

overtook his column with some difficulty; it was now only a band of

fugitives; a few Cossacks chased it before them; without attempting

either to take or to kill them; either from compassion, for one gets

tired of every thing in time, or that the enormity of our misery had

terrified even the Russians themselves, and they believed themselves

sufficiently revenged, and many of them behaved generously; or, finally,

that they were satiated and overloaded with booty. It might be also,

that in the darkness, they did not perceive that they had only to do

with unarmed men.

Winter, that terrible ally of the Muscovites, had sold them his

assistance dearly. Their disorder pursued our disorder. We often saw

prisoners who had escaped several times from their frozen hands and

looks. They had at first marched in the middle of their straggling

column without being noticed by it. There were some of them, who, taking

advantage of a favourable moment, ventured to attack the Russian

soldiers when isolated, and strip them of their provisions, their

uniforms, and even their arms, with which they covered themselves. Under

this disguise, they mingled with their conquerors; and such was the

disorganization, the stupid carelessness; and the numbness into which

their army had fallen, that these prisoners marched for a whole month in

the midst of them without being recognised. The hundred and twenty

thousand men of Kutusoff's army were then reduced to thirty-five

thousand. Of Wittgenstein's fifty thousand, scarcely fifteen thousand

remained. Wilson asserts, that of a reinforcement of ten thousand men,

sent from the interior of Russia with all the precautions which they

know how to take against the winter, not more than seventeen hundred

arrived at Wilna. But a head of a column was quite sufficient against

our disarmed soldiers. They attempted in vain to tally a few of them,

and he who had hitherto been almost the only one whose commands had been

obeyed in the rout, was now compelled to follow it.

He arrived along with it at Kowno, which was the last town of the

Russian empire. Finally, on the 13th of December, after marching

forty-six days under a terrible yoke, they once more came in sight of a

friendly country. Instantly, without halting or looking behind them, the

greater part plunged into, and dispersed themselves, in the forests of

Prussian Poland. Some there were, however, who, on their arrival on the

allied bank of the Niemen, turned round. There, when they, cast a last

look on that land of suffering from which they were escaping, when they

found themselves on the same spot, whence five months previously their

countless eagles had taken their victorious flight, it is said that

tears flowed from their eyes, and that they uttered exclamations of

grief.

"This then was the bank which they had studded with their bayonets! this

the allied country which had disappeared only five months before, under

the steps of their immense united army, and seemed to them then to be

metamorphosed into moving hills and valleys of men and horses! These

were the same valleys, from which, under the rays of a burning sun,

poured forth the three long columns of dragoons and cuirassiers,

resembling three rivers of glittering iron and brass. And now men, arms,

eagles, horses, the sun itself, and even this frontier river, which they

had crossed replete with ardour and hope, all have disappeared. The

Niemen is now only a long mass of flakes of ice, caught and chained to

each other by the increasing severity of the winter. Instead of the

three French bridges, brought from a distance of five hundred leagues,

and thrown across it with such audacious promptitude, a Russian bridge

is alone standing. Finally, in the room of these innumerable warriors,

of their four hundred thousand comrades, who had been so often their

partners in victory, and who had dashed forward with such joy and pride

into the territory of Russia, they saw issuing from these pale and

frozen deserts, only a thousand infantry and horsemen still under arms,

nine cannon, and twenty thousand miserable wretches covered with rags,

with downcast looks, hollow eyes, earthy and livid complexions, long

beards matted with the frost; some disputing in silence the narrow

passage of the bridge, which, in spite of their small number was not

sufficient to the eagerness of their flight; others fleeing dispersed

over the asperities of the river, labouring and dragging themselves from

one point of ice to another; and this was the whole grand army! Besides,

many of these fugitives were recruits who had just joined it."

Two kings, one prince, eight marshals followed by a few officers,

generals on foot, dispersed, and without any attendants; finally, a few

hundred men of the old guard, still armed, were its remains; they alone

represented it.

Or rather, I should say, it still breathed completely and entirely in

Marshal Ney. Comrades! allies! enemies! here I invoke your testimony;

let us pay the homage which is due to the memory of an unfortunate hero:

the facts will be sufficient.

All were flying, and Murat himself, traversing Kowno as he had done

Wilna, first gave, and then withdrew the order to rally at Tilsit, and

subsequently fixed upon Gumbinnen. Ney then entered Kowno, accompanied

only by his aides-de-camp, for all besides had given way, or fallen

around him. From the time of his leaving Wiazma, this was the fourth

rear-guard which had been worn out and melted in his hands. But winter

and famine, still more than the Russians, had destroyed them. For the

fourth time, he remained alone before the enemy, and still unshaken, he

sought for a fifth rear-guard.

At Kowno the marshal found a company of artillery, three hundred German

soldiers who formed its garrison, and General Marchand with four hundred

men; of these he took the command. He first walked over the town to

reconnoitre its position, and to rally some additional forces, but he

found only some sick and wounded, who were endeavouring, in tears, to

follow our retreat. For the eighth time since we left Moscow, we were

obliged to abandon these _en masse_ in their hospitals, as they had been

abandoned singly along the whole march, on all our fields of battle, and

at all our bivouacs.

Several thousand soldiers covered the marketplace and the neighbouring

streets; but they were laid out stiff before the magazines of spirits

which they had broken open, and where they drank the cup of death, from

which they fancied they were to inhale fresh life. These were the only

succours which Murat had left him; Ney found himself left alone in

Russia, with seven hundred foreign recruits. At Kowno, as it had been

after the disasters of Wiazma, of Smolensk, of the Berezina, and of

Wilna, it was to him that the honour of our arms and all the peril of

the last steps of our retreat were again confided.

On the 14th, at daybreak, the Russians commenced their attack. One of

their columns made a hasty advance from the Wilna road, while another

crossed the Niemen on the ice above the town, landed on the Prussian

territory, and, proud of being the first to cross its frontier, marched

to the bridge of Kowno, to close that outlet upon Ney, and completely

cut off his retreat.

The first firing was heard at the Wilna gate; Ney ran thither, with a

view to drive away Platof's artillery with his own; but he found his

cannon had been already spiked, and that his artillerymen had fled!

Enraged, he darted forward, and elevating his sword, would have killed

the officer who commanded them, had it not been for his aide-de-camp,

who warded off the blow, and enabled this miserable fellow to make his

escape.

Ney then summoned his infantry, but only one of the two feeble

battalions of which it was composed had taken up arms; it consisted of

the three hundred Germans of the garrison. He drew them up, encouraged

them, and as the enemy was approaching, was just about to give them the

order to fire, when a Russian cannon ball, grazing the palisade, came

and broke the thigh of their commanding officer. He fell, and without

the least hesitation, finding that his wound was mortal, he coolly drew

out his pistols and blew out his brains before his troop. Terrified at

this act of despair, his soldiers were completely scared, all of them at

once threw down their arms, and fled in disorder.

Ney, abandoned by all, neither deserted himself nor his post. After vain

efforts to detain these fugitives, he collected their muskets, which

were still loaded, became once more a common soldier, and with only four

others, kept facing thousands of the Russians. His audacity stopped

them; it made some of his artillerymen ashamed, who imitated their

marshal; it gave time to his aide-de-camp Heymès, and to General Gérard

to embody thirty soldiers, bring forward two or three light pieces, and

to Generals Ledru and Marchand to collect the only battalion which

remained.

But at that moment the second attack of the Russians commenced on the

other side of the Niemen, and near the bridge of Kowno; it was then

half-past two o'clock. Ney sent Ludru, Marchand, and their four hundred

men forward to retake and secure that passage. As to himself, without

giving way, or disquieting himself farther as to what was passing in his

rear, he kept on fighting at the head of his thirty men, and maintained

himself until night at the Wilna gate. He then traversed the town and

crossed the Niemen, constantly fighting, retreating but never flying,

marching after all the others, supporting to the last moment the honour

of our arms, and for the hundredth time during the last forty days and

forty nights, putting his life and liberty in jeopardy to save a few

more Frenchmen. Finally, he was the last of the grand army who quitted

that fatal Russia, exhibiting to the world the impotence of fortune

against great courage, and proving that with heroes every thing turns to

glory, even the greatest disasters.

It was eight o'clock at night when he reached the allied bank. Then it

was, that seeing the completion of the catastrophe, Marchand repulsed to

the entrance of the bridge, and the road of Wilkowiski which Murat had

taken, completely covered with the enemy's troops, he darted off to the

right, plunged into the woods, and disappeared.

CHAP. V.

When Murat reached Gumbinnen, he was exceedingly surprised to find Ney

already there, and to find, that since it had left Kowno, the army was

marching without a rear-guard. Fortunately, the pursuit of the Russians,

after they had reconquered their own territory, became slackened. They

seemed to hesitate on the Prussian frontier, not knowing whether they

should enter it as allies or as enemies. Murat took advantage of their

uncertainty to halt a few days at Gumbinnen, and to direct the remains

of the different corps to the towns on the borders of the Vistula.

Previous to this dislocation of the army, he assembled the commanders of

it. I know not what evil genius it was that inspired him at this

council. One would fain believe that it was the embarrassment he felt

before these warriors for his precipitate flight, and spite against the

Emperor, who had left him with the responsibility of it; or it might be

shame at appearing again, vanquished, in the midst of the nations whom

our victories had most oppressed; but as his language bore a much more

mischievous character, which his subsequent actions did not belie, and

as they were the first symptoms of his defection, history must not pass

over them in silence.

This warrior, who had been elevated to the throne solely by the right of

victory, now returned discomfited. From the first step he took upon

vanquished territory, he fancied he felt it everywhere trembling under

his feet, and that his crown was tottering on his head. A thousand times

during the campaign, he had exposed himself to the greatest dangers; but

he, who, as a king, had shown as little fear of death as the meanest

soldier of the vanguard, could not bear the apprehension of living

without a crown. Behold him then, in the midst of the commanders, whom

his brother had placed under his direction, accusing that brother's

ambition, which he had shared, in order to free himself from the

responsibility which its gratification had involved.

He exclaimed, "that it was no longer possible to serve such a madman!

that there was no safety in supporting his cause; that no monarch in

Europe could now place any reliance on his word, or in treaties

concluded with him. He himself was in despair for having rejected the

propositions of the English; had it not been for that, he would still be

a great monarch, such as the Emperor of Austria, and the King of

Prussia."

Davoust abruptly cut him short. "The King of Prussia, the Emperor of

Austria," said he to him, "are monarchs by the grace of God, of time,

and the custom of nations. But as to you, you are only a king by the

grace of Napoleon, and of the blood of Frenchmen; you cannot remain so

but through Napoleon, and by continuing united to France. You are led

away by the blackest ingratitude!" And he declared to him that he would

immediately denounce his treachery to his Emperor; the other marshals

remained silent. They made allowance for the violence of the king's

grief, and attributed solely to his inconsiderate heat, the expressions

which the hatred and suspicious character of Davoust had but too clearly

comprehended.

Murat was put entirely out of countenance; he felt himself guilty. Thus

was stifled the first spark of treachery, which at a later period was

destined to ruin France. It is with regret that history commemorates it,

as repentance and misfortune have atoned for the crime.

We were soon obliged to carry our humiliation to Königsberg. The grand

army, which, during the last twenty years, had shown itself successively

triumphant in all the capitals of Europe, now, for the first time,

re-appeared mutilated, disarmed, and fugitive, in one of those which had

been most humiliated by its glory. Its population crowded on our passage

to count our wounds, and to estimate, by the extent of our disasters,

that of the hopes they might venture to entertain; we were compelled to

feast their greedy looks with our miseries, to pass under the yoke of

their hope, and while dragging our misfortunes through the midst of

their odious joy, to march under the insupportable weight of hated

calamity.

The feeble remnant of the grand army did not bend under this burden. Its

shadow, already almost dethroned, still exhibited itself imposing; it

preserved its royal air; although vanquished by the elements, it kept

up, in the presence of men, its victorious and commanding attitude.

On their side, the Germans, either from slowness or fear, received us

docilely; their hatred restrained itself under an appearance of

coolness; and as they scarcely ever act from themselves, they were

obliged to relieve our miseries, during the time that they were looking

for a signal. Königsberg was soon unable to contain them. Winter, which

had followed us thither, deserted us there all at once; in one night the

thermometer fell twenty degrees.

This sudden change was fatal to us. A great number of soldiers and

generals, whom the tension of the atmosphere had hitherto supported by a

continued irritation, sunk and fell into decomposition. Lariboissière,

general-in-chief of the artillery, fell a sacrifice; Eblé, the pride of

the army, followed him. Every day and every hour, our consternation was

increased by fresh deaths.

In the midst of this general mourning, a sudden insurrection, and a

letter from Macdonald, contributed to convert all these sorrows into

despair. The sick could no longer cherish the expectation of dying free;

the friend was either compelled to desert his expiring friend, the

brother his brother, or to drag them in that state to Elbing. The

insurrection was only alarming as a symptom; it was put down; but the

intelligence transmitted by Macdonald was decisive.

CHAP. VI.

On the side where that marshal commanded, the whole of the war had been

only a rapid march from Tilsit to Mittau, a display of force from the

mouth of the Aa to Dünaburg, and finally, a long defensive position in

front of Riga; the composition of that army being almost entirely

Prussian, its position and Napoleon's orders so willed it.

It was a piece of great audacity in the Emperor to entrust his left

wing, as well as his right and his retreat, to Prussians and Austrians.

It was observed, that at the same time he had dispersed the Poles

throughout the whole army; many persons thought that it would have been

preferable to collect in one point the zeal of the latter, and to have

divided the hatred of the former. But we everywhere required natives as

interpreters, scouts, or guides, and felt the value of their audacious

ardour on the true points of attack. As to the Prussians and Austrians,

it is probable that they would not have allowed themselves to be

dispersed. On the left, Macdonald, with seven thousand Bavarians,

Westphalians, and Poles, mixed with twenty-two thousand Prussians,

appeared sufficient to answer for the latter, as well as for the

Russians.

In the advance march, there had been at first nothing to do, but to

drive the Russian posts before them, and to carry off some magazines.

Afterwards there were a few skirmishes between the Aa and Riga. The

Prussians, after a rather warm affair, took Eckau from the Russian

General Lewis; after which both sides remained quiet for twenty days.

Macdonald employed that time in taking possession of Dünaburg, and in

getting the heavy artillery brought to Mittau, which was necessary for

the siege of Riga.

On the intelligence of his approach, on the 23d of August, the

commander-in-chief at Riga made all his troops march out of the place in

three columns. The two weakest were to make two false attacks; the first

by proceeding along the coast of the Baltic sea, and the second directly

on Mittau; the third, which was the strongest, and commanded by Lewis,

was at the same time to retake Eckau, drive back the Prussians as far as

the Aa, cross that river, and either capture or destroy the park of

artillery.

The plan succeeded as far as beyond the Aa, when Grawert, supported

latterly by Kleist, repulsed Lewis, and following the Russians closely

as far as Eckau, defeated them there entirely, Lewis fled in disorder as

far as the Düna, which he recrossed by fording it, leaving behind a

great number of prisoners.

Thus far Macdonald was satisfied. It is even said, that at Smolensk,

Napoleon thought of elevating Yorck to the dignity of a marshal of the

empire, at the same time that at Vienna he caused Schwartzenberg to be

named field-marshal. The claims of these two commanders to the honour

were by no means equal.

In both wings, disagreeable symptoms were manifested; with the

Austrians, it was among the officers that they were fermenting; their

general kept them firm in their alliance with us; he even apprised us of

their bad disposition, and pointed out the means of preventing the

contagion from spreading among the other allied troops which were mixed

with his.

The case was quite the contrary with our left wing; the Prussian army

marched without the least after-thought, at the very time that its

general was conspiring against us. On the right wing, therefore, during

the time of combat, it was the leader who drew his troops after him in

spite of themselves, while, on the left wing, the troops pushed forward

their commander, almost in spite of himself.

Among the latter, the officers, the soldiers, and Grawert himself, a

loyal old warrior, who had no political feelings, entered frankly into

the war. They fought like lions on all occasions when their commander

left them at liberty to do so; they expressed themselves anxious to wash

out, in the eyes of the French, the shame of their defeat in 1806, to

reconquer our esteem, to vanquish in the presence of their conquerors,

to prove that their defeat was only attributable to their government,

and that they were worthy of a better fate.

Yorck had higher views. He belonged to the society of the _Friends of

Virtue_, whose principle was hatred of the French, and whose object was

their complete expulsion from Germany. But Napoleon was still

victorious, and the Prussian afraid to commit himself. Besides, the

justice, the mildness, and the military reputation of Macdonald had

completely gained the affection of his troops. They said "they had never

been so happy as when under the command of a Frenchman." In fact, as

they were united with the conquerors, and shared the rights of conquest

with them, they had allowed themselves to be seduced by the all-powerful

attraction of being on the side of the victor.

Every thing contributed to it. Their administration was directed by an

intendant and agents taken from their own army. They lived in abundance.

It was on that very point, however, that the quarrel between Macdonald

and Yorck began, and that the hatred of the latter found an opening to

diffuse itself.

First of all, some complaints were made in the country against their

administration. Shortly after, a French administrator arrived, and

either from rivalry or a spirit of justice, he accused the Prussian

intendant of exhausting the country by enormous requisitions of cattle.

"He sent them," it was said, "into Prussia, which had been exhausted by

our passage; the army was deprived of them, and a dearth would very soon

be felt in it." By his account, Yorck was perfectly aware of the

manoeuvre. Macdonald believed the accusation, dismissed the accused

person, and confided the administration to the accuser; Yorck, filled

with spite, thought henceforward of nothing but revenge.

Napoleon was then at Moscow. The Prussian was on the watch; he joyfully

foresaw the consequences of that rash enterprise, and it appears as if

he yielded to the temptation of taking advantage of it, and of getting

the start of fortune. On the 29th of September, the Russian general

learned that Yorck had uncovered Mittau; and either from having received

reinforcements, (two divisions had actually just arrived from Finland,)

or from confidence of another kind, he adventured himself as far as that

city, which he retook, and was preparing to push his advantage. The

grand park of the besiegers' artillery was about to be carried off;

Yorck, if we are to believe those who were witnesses, had exposed it, he

remained motionless, he betrayed it.

It is said that the chief of his staff felt indignant at this treachery;

we are assured that he represented to his general in the warmest terms,

that he would ruin himself, and destroy the honour of the Prussian arms;

and that, finally, Yorck, moved by his representations, allowed Kleist

to put himself in movement. His approach was quite sufficient. But on

this occasion, although there was a regular battle, there were scarcely

four hundred men put _hors du combat_ on both sides. As soon as this

petty warfare was over, each army tranquilly resumed its former

quarters.

CHAP. VII.

On the receipt of this intelligence, Macdonald became uneasy, and very

much incensed; he hurried from his right wing, where perhaps he had

remained too long at a distance from the Prussians. The surprise of

Mittau, the danger which his park of artillery had run of being

captured, Yorck's obstinacy in refusing to pursue the enemy, and the

secret details which reached him from the interior of Yorck's

head-quarters, were all sufficiently alarming. But the more ground there

was of suspicion, the more it was necessary to dissemble; for as the

Prussian army was entirely guiltless of the designs of its leader, and

had fought readily, and as the enemy had given way, appearances had been

preserved, and it would have been wise policy in Macdonald if he had

appeared satisfied.

He did quite the contrary. His quick disposition, or his loyalty, were

unable to dissemble; he burst out into reproaches against the Prussian

general, at the very moment when his troops, satisfied with their

victory, were only looking for praise and rewards. Yorck artfully

contrived to make his soldiers, whose expectations had been frustrated,

participators in the disgust of a humiliation which had been reserved

solely for himself.

We find in Macdonald's letters the real causes of his dissatisfaction.

He wrote to Yorck, "that it was shameful that his posts were continually

attacked, and that in return he had never once harassed the enemy; that

ever since he had been in sight of them, he had done no more than repel

attacks, and in no one instance had ever acted on the offensive,

although his officers and troops were filled with the best

dispositions." This last remark was very true, for in general it was

remarkable to see the ardour of all these Germans for a cause completely

foreign to them, and which might to them even appear hostile.

They all rivalled each other in eagerness to rush into the midst of

danger, in order to acquire the esteem of the grand army, and an

eulogium from Napoleon. Their princes preferred the plain silver star of

French honour to their richest orders. At that time the genius of

Napoleon still appeared to have dazzled or subdued every one. Equally

munificent to reward as prompt and terrible to punish, he appeared like

one of those great centres of nature, the dispenser of all good. In many

of the Germans, there was united with this feeling that of a respectful

admiration for a life which was so completely stamped with the

marvellous, which so much affects them.

But their admiration was a consequence of victory, and our fatal retreat

had already commenced; already, from the north to the south of Europe,

the Russian cries of vengeance replied to those of Spain. They crossed

and echoed each other in the countries of Germany, which still remained

under the yoke; these two great fires, lighted up at the two extremities

of Europe, were gradually extending towards its centre, where they were

like the dawn of a new day; they covered sparks which were fanned by

hearts burning with patriotic hatred, and exalted to fanaticism by

mystic rites. Gradually, as our disaster approached to Germany, there

was heard rising from her bosom an indistinct rumour, a general, but

still trembling, uncertain and confused murmur.

The students of the universities, bred up with ideas of independence,

inspired by their ancient constitutions, which secure them so many

privileges, full of exalted recollections of the ancient and chivalrous

glory of Germany, and for her sake jealous of all foreign glory, had

always been our enemies. Total strangers to all political calculations,

they had never bent themselves under our victory. Since it had become

pale, a similar spirit had caught the politicians and even the military.

The association of the _Friends of Virtue_ gave this insurrection the

appearance of an extensive plot; some chiefs did certainly conspire, but

there was no conspiracy; it was a spontaneous movement, a common and

universal sensation.

Alexander skilfully increased this disposition by his proclamations, by

his addresses to the Germans, and by the distinction which he made in

the treatment of their prisoners. As to the monarchs of Europe, he and

Bernadotte were as yet the only ones who marched at the head of their

people. All the others, restrained by policy or feelings of honour,

allowed themselves to be anticipated by their subjects.

This infection even penetrated to the grand army; after the passage of

the Berezina, Napoleon had been informed of it. Communications had been

observed to be going on between the Bavarian, Saxon, and Austrian

generals. On the left, Yorck's bad disposition increased, and

communicated itself to a part of his troops; all the enemies of France

had united, and Macdonald was astonished at having to repel the

perfidious insinuations of an aide-de-camp of Moreau. The impression

made by our victories was still however so deep in all the Germans, they

had been so powerfully kept under, that they required a considerable

time to raise themselves.

On the 15th of November, Macdonald, seeing that the left of the Russian

line had extended itself too far from Riga, between him and the Düna,

made some feigned attacks on their whole front, and pushed a real one

against their centre, which he broke through rapidly as far as the

river, near Dahlenkirchen. The whole left of the Russians, Lewis, and

five thousand men, found themselves cut off from their retreat, and

thrown back on the Düna. Lewis vainly sought for an outlet; he found his

enemy every where, and lost at first two battalions and a squadron. He

would have infallibly been taken with his whole force, had he been

pressed closer, but he was allowed sufficient space and time to take

breath; as the cold increased, and the country offered no means of

escape, he ventured to trust himself to the weak ice which had begun to

cover the river. He made his troops lay a bed of straw and boards over

it, in that manner crossed the Düna at two points between Friedrichstadt

and Lindau, and re-entered Riga, at the very moment his comrades had

begun to despair of his preservation.

The day after this engagement, Macdonald was informed of the retreat of

Napoleon on Smolensk, but not of the disorganization of the army. A few

days after, some sinister reports brought him the news of the capture of

Minsk. He began to be alarmed, when, on the 4th of December, a letter

from Maret, magnifying the victory of the Berezina, announced to him the

capture of nine thousand Russians, nine standards, and twelve cannon.

The admiral, according to this letter, was reduced to thirteen thousand

men.

On the third of December the Russians were again repulsed in one of

their sallies from Riga, by the Prussians. Yorck, either from prudence

or conscience, restrained himself. Macdonald had become reconciled to

him. On the 19th of December, fourteen days after the departure of

Napoleon, eight days after the capture of Wilna by Kutusoff, in short

when Macdonald commenced his retreat, the Prussian army was still

faithful.

CHAP. VIII.

It was from Wilna, on the 9th of December, that orders were transmitted

to Macdonald, of which a Prussian officer was the bearer, directing him

to retreat slowly upon Tilsit. No care was taken to send these

instructions by different channels. They did not even think of employing

Lithuanians to carry a message of that importance. In this manner the

last army, the only one which remained unbroken, was exposed to the risk

of destruction. An order, which was written at the distance of only four

days' journey from Macdonald, lingered so long on the road, that it was

nine days in reaching him.

The marshal directed his retreat on Tilsit, by passing between Telzs and

Szawlia. Yorck, with the greatest part of the Prussians, forming his

rear-guard, marched at a day's distance from him, in contact with the

Russians, and left entirely to themselves. By some this was regarded as

a great error on the part of Macdonald; but the majority did not venture

to decide, alleging that in a situation so delicate, confidence and

suspicion were alike dangerous.

The latter also said that the French marshal did every thing which

prudence required of him, by retaining with him one of Yorck's

divisions; the other, which was commanded by Massenbach, was under the

direction of the French general Bachelu, and formed the vanguard. The

Prussian army was thus separated into two corps, Macdonald in the

middle, and the one seemed to be a guarantee to him for the other.

At first every thing went on well, although the danger was every where,

in the front, in the rear, and on the flanks; for the grand army of

Kutusoff had already pushed forward three vanguards, on the retreat of

the Duke of Tarentum. Macdonald encountered the first at Kelm, the

second at Piklupenen, and the third at Tilsit. The zeal of the black

hussars and the Prussian dragoons appeared to increase. The Russian

hussars of Ysum were sabred and overthrown at Kelm. On the 27th of

December, at the close of a ten hours' march, these Prussians came in

sight of Piklupenen, and the Russian brigade of Laskow; without stopping

to take breath, they charged, threw it into disorder, and cut off two of

its battalions; next day they retook Tilsit from the Russian commander

Tettenborn.

A letter from Berthier, dated at Antonowo, on the 14th of December, had

reached Macdonald several days before, in which he was informed that the

army no longer existed, and that it was necessary that he should arrive

speedily on the Pregel, in order to cover Königsberg, and to be able to

retreat upon Elbing and Marienburg. This news the marshal concealed from

the Prussians. Hitherto the cold and the forced marches had produced no

complaints from them; there was no symptom of discontent exhibited by

these allies; brandy and provisions were not deficient.

But on the 28th, when General Bachelu extended to the right, towards

Regnitz, in order to drive away the Russians, who had taken refuge there

after their expulsion from Tilsit, the Prussian officers began to

complain that their troops were fatigued; their vanguard marched

unwillingly and carelessly, allowed itself to be surprised, and was

thrown into disorder. Bachelu, however, restored the fortune of the day,

and entered Regnitz.

During this time, Macdonald, who had arrived at Tilsit, was waiting for

Yorck and the rest of the Prussian army, which did not make its

appearance. On the 29th, the officers, and the orders which he sent

them, were vainly multiplied; no news of Yorck transpired. On the 30th,

Macdonald's anxiety was redoubled; it was fully exhibited in one of his

letters of that day's date, in which, however, he did not yet venture to

appear suspicious of a defection. He wrote "that he could not understand

the reason of this delay; that he had sent a number of officers and

emissaries with orders to Yorck to rejoin him, but that he had received

no answer. In consequence, when the enemy was advancing against him, he

was compelled to suspend his retreat; for he could not make up his mind

to desert this corps, to retreat without Yorck; and yet this delay was

ruinous." This letter concluded thus:--"I am lost in conjectures. If I

retreat, what would the Emperor say? what would be said by France, by

the army, by Europe? Would it not be an indelible stain on the tenth

corps, voluntarily to abandon a part of its troops, and without being

compelled to it otherwise than by prudence? Oh, no; whatever may be the

result, I am resigned, and willingly devote myself as a victim, provided

I am the only one:" and he concluded by wishing the French general "that

sleep which his melancholy situation had long denied him."

On the same day, he recalled Bachelu and the Prussian cavalry, which was

still at Regnitz, to Tilsit. It was night when Bachelu received the

order; he wished to execute it, but the Prussian colonels refused; and

they covered their refusal under different pretexts. "The roads," they

said, "were not passable. They were not accustomed to make their men

march in such dreadful weather, and at so late an hour! They were

responsible to their king for their regiments." The French general was

astonished, commanded them to be silent, and ordered them to obey; his

firmness subdued them, they obeyed, but slowly. A Russian general had

glided into their ranks, and pressed them to deliver up this Frenchman,

who was alone in the midst of those who commanded them; but the

Prussians, although fully prepared to abandon Bachelu, could not resolve

to betray him: at last they began their march.

At Regnitz, at eight o'clock at night, they had refused to mount their

horses; at Tilsit, where they arrived at two in the morning, they

refused to alight from them. At five o'clock in the morning, however,

they had all gone to their quarters, and as order appeared to be

restored among them, the general went to take some rest. But the

obedience had been entirely feigned, for no sooner did the Prussians

find themselves unobserved, than they resumed their arms, went out with

Massenbach at their head, and escaped from Tilsit in silence, and by

favour of the night. The first dawn of the last day of the year 1812,

informed Macdonald that the Prussian army had deserted him.

It was Yorck, who, instead of rejoining him, deprived him of Massenbach,

whom he had just recalled. His own defection, which had commenced on the

26th of December, was just consummated. On the 30th of December, a

convention between Yorck and the Russian general Dibitch was concluded

at Taurogen. "The Prussian troops were to be cantoned on their own

frontiers, and remain neutral during two months, even in the event of

this armistice being disapproved of by their own government. At the end

of that time, the roads should be open to them to rejoin the French

troops, should their sovereign persist in ordering them to do so."

Yorck, but more particularly Massenbach, either from fear of the Polish

division to which they were united, or from respect for Macdonald,

showed some delicacy in their defection. They wrote to the marshal.

Yorck announced to him the convention he had just concluded, which he

coloured with specious pretexts. "He had been reduced to it by fatigue

and necessity; but," he added, "that whatever judgment the world might

form of his conduct, he was not at all uneasy about; that his duty to

his troops, and the most mature reflexion, had dictated it to him; that,

finally, whatever might be the appearances, he was actuated by the

purest motives."

Massenbach excused himself for his clandestine departure. "He had wished

to spare himself a sensation which his heart felt too painfully. He had

dreaded, lest the sentiments of respect and esteem which he should

preserve to the end of his life for Macdonald, should have prevented him

from doing his duty."

Macdonald saw all at once his force reduced from twenty-nine thousand to

nine thousand, but in the state of anxiety in which he had been living

for the last two days, any termination to it was a relief.

CHAP. IX.

Thus commenced the defection of our allies. I shall not venture to set

myself up as a judge of the morality of this event; posterity will

decide upon it. As a contemporaneous historian, however, I conceive

myself bound not only to state the facts, but also the impression they

have left, and such as it still remains, in the minds of the principal

leaders of the two corps of the allied army, either as actors or

sufferers.

The Prussians only waited for an opportunity to break our alliance,

which was forced upon them; when the moment arrived, they embraced it.

Not only, however, did they refuse to betray Macdonald, but they did not

even wish to quit him, until they had, as it may be said, drawn him out

of Russia and placed him in safety. On his side, when Macdonald became

sensible that he was abandoned, but without having positive proofs of

it, he obstinately remained at Tilsit, at the mercy of the Prussians,

sooner than give them a motive of defection, by too speedy a retreat.

The Prussians did not abuse this noble conduct. There was defection on

their part, but no treachery; which, in this age, and after the evils

they had endured, may still appear meritorious; they did not join

themselves with the Russians. When they arrived on their own frontier,

they could not resign themselves to aid their conqueror in defending

their native soil against those who came in the character of their

deliverers, and who were so; they became neutral, and this was not, I

must repeat, until Macdonald, disengaged from Russia and the Russians,

had his retreat free.

This marshal continued it from Königsberg, by Labiau and Tente. His rear

was protected by Mortier, and Heudelet's division, whose troops, newly

arrived, still occupied Insterburg, and kept Tchitchakof in check. On

the 3d of January he effected his junction with Mortier and covered

Königsberg.

It was, however, a happy circumstance for Yorck's reputation, that

Macdonald, thus weakened, and whose retreat his defection had

interrupted, was enabled to rejoin the grand army. The inconceivable

slowness of Wittgenstein's march saved that marshal; the Russian

general, however, overtook him at Labiau and Tente; and there, but for

the efforts of Bachelu and his brigade, the valour of the Polish Colonel

Kameski, and Captain Ostrowski, and the Bavarian Major Mayer, the corps

of Macdonald, thus deserted, would have been broken or destroyed; in

that case Yorck would appear to have betrayed him, and history would,

with justice, have stigimatized him with the name of traitor. Six

hundred French, Bavarians, and Poles, remained dead on these two fields

of battle; their blood accuses the Prussians for not having provided, by

an additional article, for the safe retreat of the leader whom they had

deserted.

The King of Prussia disavowed Yorck's conduct. He dismissed him,

appointed Kleist to succeed him in the command, ordered the latter to

arrest his late commander, and send him, as well as Massenbach, to

Berlin, there to undergo their trial. But these generals preserved their

command in spite of him; the Prussian army did not consider their

monarch at liberty; this opinion was founded on the presence of Augereau

and some French troops at Berlin.

Frederick, however, was perfectly aware of the annihilation of our army.

At Smorgoni, Narbonne refused to accept the mission to that monarch,

until Napoleon gave him authority to make the most unreserved

communication. He, Augereau, and several others have declared that

Frederick was not merely restrained by his position in the midst of the

remains of the grand army, and by the dread of Napoleon's re-appearance

at the head of a fresh one, but also by his plighted faith; for every

thing is of a mixed character in the moral as well as the physical

world, and even in the most trifling of our actions there is a variety

of different motives. But, finally, his good faith yielded to necessity,

and his dread to a greater dread. He saw himself, it was said,

threatened with a species of forfeiture by his people and by our

enemies.

It should be remarked that the Prussian nation, which drew its sovereign

toward Yorck, only ventured to rise successively, as the Russians came

in sight, and by degrees, as our feeble remains quitted their territory.

A single fact, which took place during the retreat, will paint the

dispositions of the people, and show how much, notwithstanding the

hatred they bore us, they were curbed under the ascendancy of our

victories.

When Davoust was recalled to France, he passed, with only two

attendants, through the town of X * * *. The Russians were daily

expected there; its population were incensed at the sight of these last

Frenchmen. Murmurs, mutual excitations, and finally, outcries, rapidly

succeeded each other; the most violent speedily surrounded the carriage

of the marshal, and were already about to unharness the horses, when

Davoust made his appearance, rushed upon the most insolent of these

insurgents, dragged him behind his carriage, and made his servants

fasten him to it. Frightened at this action, the people stopped short,

seized with motionless consternation, and then quietly and silently

opened a passage for the marshal, who passed through the midst of them,

carrying off his prisoner.

CHAP. X.

In this sudden manner did our left wing fall. On our right wing, on the

side of the Austrians, whom a well-cemented alliance retained, a

phlegmatic people, governed despotically by an united aristocracy, there

was no sudden explosion to be apprehended. This wing detached itself

from us insensibly, and with the formalities required by its political

position.

On the 10th of December, Schwartzenberg was at Slonim, presenting

successively vanguards towards Minsk, Nowogrodeck, and Bienitza. He was

still persuaded that the Russians were beaten and fleeing before

Napoleon, when he was informed at the same moment of the Emperor's

departure, and of the destruction of the grand army, but in so vague a

manner that he was for some time without any direction.

In his embarrassment he addressed himself to the French ambassador at

Warsaw. The answer of that minister authorized him "not to sacrifice

another man." In consequence, he retreated on the 14th of December from

Slonim towards Bialystok. The instructions which reached him from Murat

in the middle of this movement were conformable to it.

About the 21st of December, an order from Alexander suspended

hostilities on that point, and as the interest of the Russians agreed

with that of the Austrians, there was very soon a mutual understanding.

A moveable armistice, which was approved by Murat, was immediately

concluded. The Russian general and Schwartzenberg were to manoeuvre on

each other, the Russian on the offensive, and the Austrian on the

defensive, but without coming to blows.

Regnier's corps, now reduced to ten thousand men, was not included in

the arrangement; but Schwartzenberg, while he yielded to circumstances,

persevered in his loyalty. He regularly gave an account of every thing

to the commander of the army; he covered the whole front of the French

line with his Austrian troops, and preserved it. This prince was not at

all complaisant towards the enemy; he believed him not upon his bare

word; at every position he was about to yield, he would actually satisfy

himself with his own eyes, that he only yielded it to a superior force,

ready to combat him. In this manner he arrived upon the Bug and the

Narew, from Nur to Ostrolenka, where the war terminated.

He was in this manner covering Warsaw, when, on the 22d of January, he

received instructions from his government to abandon the Grand-duchy, to

separate his retreat from that of Regnier, and to re-enter Gallicia. To

these instructions he only yielded a tardy obedience; he resisted the

pressing solicitations and threatening manoeuvres of Miloradowitch

until the 25th of January; even then, he effected his retreat upon

Warsaw so slowly, that the hospitals and a great part of the magazines

were enabled to be evacuated. Finally, he obtained a more favourable

capitulation for the Warsavians than they could venture to expect. He

did more; although that city was to have been delivered up on the 5th,

he only yielded it on the 8th, and thus gave Regnier the start of three

days upon the Russians.

Regnier was afterwards, it is true, overtaken and surprised at Kalisch,

but that was in consequence of halting too long to protect the flight of

some Polish depôts. In the first disorder occasioned by this unexpected

attack, a Saxon brigade was separated from the French corps, retreated

on Schwartzenberg, and was well received by him; Austria allowed it to

pass through her territory, and restored it to the grand army, when it

was assembled near Dresden.

On the 1st of January, 1813, however, at Königsberg, where Murat then

was, the desertion of the Prussians and the intrigues forming by Austria

were not known, when suddenly Macdonald's despatch, and an insurrection

of the people of Königsberg, gave information of the beginning of a

defection, of which it was impossible to foresee the consequences. The

consternation was excessive. The seditious movement was at first only

kept down by representations, which Ney very soon changed into threats.

Murat hastened his departure for Elbing. Königsberg was encumbered with

ten thousand sick and wounded, most of whom were abandoned to the

generosity of their enemies. Some of them had no reason to complain of

it; but prisoners who escaped declared that many of their unfortunate

companions were massacred and thrown out of the windows into the

streets; that an hospital which contained several hundred sick was set

fire to; and they accused the inhabitants of committing these horrid

deeds.

On another side, at Wilna, more than sixteen thousand of our prisoners

had already perished. The convent of St. Basil contained the greatest

number; from the 10th to the 23d of December they had only received some

biscuits; but not a piece of wood nor a drop of water had been given

them. The snow collected in the courts, which were covered with dead

bodies, quenched the burning thirst of the survivors. They threw out of

the windows such of the dead bodies as could not be kept in the

passages, on the staircases, or among the heaps of corses which were

collected in all the apartments. The additional prisoners that were

every moment discovering were thrown into this horrible place.

The arrival of the Emperor Alexander and his brother was the only thing

that put a stop to these abominations. They had lasted for thirteen

days, and if a few escaped out of the twenty thousand of our unfortunate

comrades who were made prisoners, it was to these two princes they owed

their preservation. But a most violent epidemic had already arisen from

the poisonous exhalations of so many corses; it passed from the

vanquished to the victors, and fully avenged us. The Russians, however,

were living in plenty; our magazines at Smorgoni and Wilna had not been

destroyed, and they must have found besides immense quantities of

provisions in the pursuit of our routed army.

But Wittgenstein, who had been detached to attack Macdonald, descended

the Niemen; Tchitchakof and Platof had pursued Murat towards Kowno,

Wilkowiski, and Insterburg; shortly after, the admiral was sent towards

Thorn. Finally, on the 9th of January, Alexander and Kutusoff arrived on

the Niemen at Merecz. There, as he was about to cross his own frontier,

the Russian emperor addressed a proclamation to his troops, completely

filled with images, comparisons, and eulogiums, which the winter had

much better deserved than his army.

CHAP. XI.

It was not until the 22d of January, and the following days, that the

Russians reached the Vistula. During this tardy march, from the 3d to

the 11th of January, Murat had remained at Elbing. In this situation of

extremity, that monarch was wavering from one plan to another, at the

mercy of the elements which were fermenting around him; sometimes they

raised his hopes to the highest pitch, at others they sunk him into an

abyss of disquietude.

He had taken flight from Königsberg in a complete state of

discouragement, when the suspension in the march of the Russians, and

the junction of Macdonald with Heudelet and Cavaignac, which doubled his

forces, suddenly inflamed him with vain hopes. He, who had the day

before believed that all was lost, wished to resume the offensive, and

began immediately; for he was one of those dispositions who are making

fresh resolutions every instant. On that day he determined to push

forward, and the next to flee as far as Posen.

This last determination, however, was not taken without reason. The

rallying of the army on the Vistula had been completely illusory; the

old guard had not altogether more than five hundred effective men; the

young guard scarcely any; the first corps, eighteen hundred; the second,

one thousand; the third, sixteen hundred; the fourth, seventeen hundred;

added to which, most of these soldiers, the remains of six hundred

thousand men, could scarcely handle their arms.

In this state of impotence, with the two wings of the army already

detached from us, Austria and Prussia failing us together, Poland became

a snare which might close around us. On the other hand, Napoleon, who

never consented to any cession, was anxious that Dantzic should be

defended; it became necessary, therefore, to throw into it all that

could keep the field.

Besides, if the truth must be told, when Murat, when at Elbing, talked

of reconstituting the army, and was even dreaming of victories, he found

that most of the commanders were themselves worn out and disgusted.

Misfortune, which leads to fear every thing, and to believe readily all

that one fears, had penetrated into their hearts. Several of them were

already uneasy about their rank and their grades, about the estates

which they had acquired in the conquered countries, and the greater part

only sighed to recross the Rhine.

As to the recruits who arrived, they were a mixture of men from several

of the German nations. In order to join us they had passed through the

Prussian states, from whence arose the exhalation of so much hatred. As

they approached, they encountered our discouragement and our long train

of disorder; when they entered into line, far from being put into

companies with, and supported by old soldiers, they found themselves

left alone, to fight with every kind of scourge, to support a cause

which was abandoned by those who were most interested in its success;

the consequence was, that at the very first bivouac, most of these

Germans disbanded themselves. At sight of the disasters of the army

returning from Moscow, the tried soldiers of Macdonald were themselves

shaken. Notwithstanding this corps d'armée, and the completely fresh

division of Heudelet preserved their unity. All these remains were

speedily collected into Dantzic; thirty-five thousand soldiers from

seventeen different nations, were shut up in it. The remainder, in small

numbers, did not begin rallying until they got to Posen and upon the

Oder.

Hitherto it was hardly possible for the King of Naples to regulate our

flight any better; but at the moment he passed through Marienwerder on

his way to Posen, a letter from Naples again unsettled all his

resolutions. The impression which it made upon him was so violent, that

by degrees as he read it, the bile mixed itself with his blood so

rapidly, that he was found a few minutes after with a complete jaundice.

It appeared that an act of government which the queen had taken upon

herself had wounded him in one of his strongest passions. He was not at

all jealous of that princess, notwithstanding her charms, but furiously

so of his royal authority; and it was particularly of the queen, as

sister of the Emperor, that he was suspicious.

Persons were astonished at seeing this prince, who had hitherto appeared

to sacrifice every thing to glory in arms, suffering himself to be

mastered all at once by a less noble passion; but they forgot that, with

certain characters, there must be always a ruling passion.

Besides, it was still the same ambition under different forms, and

always entering completely into each of them; for such are passionate

characters. At that moment his jealousy of his authority triumphed over

his love of glory; it made him proceed rapidly to Posen, where, shortly

after his arrival, he disappeared, and abandoned us.

This defection took place on the 16th of January, twenty-three days

before Schwartzenberg detached himself from the French army, of which

Prince Eugene took the command.

Alexander arrested the march of his troops at Kalisch. There, the

violent and continued war, which had followed us all the way from

Moscow, slackened: it became only, until the spring, a war of fits, slow

and intermittent. The strength of the evil appeared to be exhausted; but

it was merely that of the combatants; a still greater struggle was

preparing, and this halt was not a time allowed to make peace, but

merely given to the premeditation of slaughter.

CHAP. XII.

Thus did the star of the North triumph over that of Napoleon. Is it then

the fate of the South to be vanquished by the North? Cannot that subdue

it in its turn? Is it against nature that that aggression should be

successful? and is the frightful result of our invasion a fresh proof of

it?

Certainly the human race does not march in that direction; its

inclination is towards the south, it turns its back to the north; the

sun attracts its regards, its wishes, and its steps. We cannot with

impunity turn back this great current of men; the attempt to make them

return, to repel them, and confine them within their frozen regions, is

a gigantic enterprise. The Romans exhausted themselves by it.

Charlemagne, although he rose when one of these great invasions was

drawing to a termination, could only check it for a short time; the rest

of the torrent, driven back to the east of the empire, penetrated it

through the north, and completed the inundation.

A thousand years have since elapsed; the nations of the north have

required that time to recover from that great migration, and to acquire

the knowledge which is now indispensable to a conquering nation. During

that interval, it was not without reason that the Hanse Towns opposed

the introduction of the warlike arts into the immense camp of the

Scandinavians. The event has justified their fears. Scarcely had the

science of modern war penetrated among them, when Russian armies were

seen on the Elbe, and shortly after in Italy; they came to reconnoitre

these countries, some day they will come and settle there.

During the last century, either from philanthropy or vanity, Europe was

eager in contributing to civilize these men of the north, of whom Peter

had already made formidable warriors. She acted wisely, in so far as she

diminished for herself the danger of falling back into fresh barbarism;

if we allow that a second relapse into the darkness of the middle ages

is possible, war having become so scientific, that mind predominates in

it, so that to succeed in it, a degree of instruction is required, which

nations that still remain barbarous can only acquire by civilization.

But, in hastening the civilization of these Normans, Europe has probably

hastened the epoch of their next invasion. For let no one believe that

their pompous cities, their exotic and forced luxury, will be able to

retain them; that by softening them, they will be kept stationary, or

rendered less formidable. The luxury and effeminacy which are enjoyed in

spite of a barbarous climate, can only be the privilege of a few. The

masses, which are incessantly increasing by an administration which is

gradually becoming more enlightened, will continue sufferers by their

climate, barbarous like that, and always more and more envious; and the

invasion of the south by the north, recommenced by Catherine II. will

continue.

Who is there that can fancy that the great struggle between the North

and the South is at an end? Is it not, in its full grandeur, the war of

privation against enjoyment, the eternal war of the poor against the

rich, that which devours the interior of every empire?

Comrades, whatever was the motive of our expedition, this was the point

which made it of importance to Europe. Its object was to wrest Poland

from Russia, its result would have been to throw the danger of a fresh

invasion of the men of the north, at a greater distance, to weaken the

torrent, and oppose a new barrier to it; and was there ever a man, or a

combination of circumstances, so well calculated to ensure the success

of so great an enterprise?

After fifteen hundred years of victories, the revolution of the fourth

century, that of the kings and nobles against the people, was, in its

turn, vanquished by the revolution of the nineteenth century, that of

the people against the nobles and kings. Napoleon was born of this

conflagration; he obtained such complete power over it, that it seemed

as if that great convulsion had only been that of the bringing into the

world one man. He commanded the Revolution as if he had been the genius

of that terrible element. At his voice she became tranquil. Ashamed of

her excesses, she admired herself in him, and precipitating herself into

his glory, she had united Europe under his sceptre, and obedient Europe

rose at his call to drive back Russia within her ancient limits. It

seemed as if the North was in his turn about to be vanquished, even

among his own ices.

And yet this great man, with these great circumstances in his favour,

could not subdue nature! In this powerful effort to re-ascend that rapid

declivity, so many forces failed him! After reaching these icy regions

of Europe, he was precipitated from their very summit. The North,

victorious over the South in her defensive war, as she had been in the

middle ages in her offensive one, now believes herself invulnerable and

irresistible.

Comrades, believe it not! Ye might have triumphed over that soil and

these spaces, that climate, and that rough and gigantic nature, as ye

had conquered its soldiers.

But some errors were punished by great calamities! I have related both

the one and the other. On that ocean of evils I have erected a

melancholy beacon of gloomy and blood-red light; and if my feeble hand

has been insufficient for the painful task, at least I have exhibited

the floating wrecks, in order that those who come after us may see the

peril and avoid it.

Comrades, my task is finished; it is now for you to bear your testimony

to the truth of the picture. Its colours will no doubt appear pale to

your eyes and to your hearts, which are still full of these great

recollections. But which of you is ignorant that an action is always

more eloquent than its description; and that if great historians are

produced by great men, the first are still more rare than the last?

Volume I

London: Printed by Thomas Davison,

Whitefriars.

Volume II

London: Printed by C. Roworth.

Bell yard, Temple Bar.

Transcriber's Notes:

This was a book of two volumes, written by a Frenchman and printed in

English by different printers. As a result there was a wide variation in

spelling.

Original spelling was retained except where noted.

Thus corses for corpses, tressels for trestles, Dantzic for Danzig.

Table of Contents, Volume II, Book IX, Chapter II, Jaroslavetz changed

to Yaroslawetz to conform to text. Also for Chapters IV and V of same.

Table of Contents, Winkowo changed to Vinkowo to conform to much of

text.

Table of Contents, Doubrowna changed to Dombrowna.

The use of Chap. and Chapter was retained reflecting the original work.

Book II. Chap. II., Arriere changed to Arrière.

Book V. Chap. I, Dünaburg changed to Dünabourg to match rest of Volume.

Book VIII. Chapter XI, Francaise changed to Française.

Book X. Chapter III, Karsnoë changed to Krasnoë.

One instance each of Yuknow, Yuknof and Yucknow appears in the text

as does Vilkomir/Wilkomer and Doukhowtchina/Dukhowtchina.

Differences that were retained between Volumes I and II:

Volume I Volume II

Saint-Cyr Saint Cyr(also in Table of Contents for Vol. II)

Oudinot Oudinôt

journeys journies

Dubrowna Dombrowna

Dünabourg Dünaburg