We set off the next day; and reached the great road from Moscow by
Mojaisk.
The cold, the privations, were extreme; the hour of disasters had
come on us! We found our wounded lying dead on the road, and the
Russians waiting for us at Viasma. At the sight of these columns the
soldiers collected a remnant of energy, fell upon them, and defeated
them. But we were harassed by troops animated by abundance, and by
hope of plunder. At every step we were obliged to halt, and fight; we
slackened our march over a wasted country, which we should have gone
over with the greatest rapidity. Cold, hunger, the Cossacks,—every
scourge was let loose upon us. The army was sinking under the
weight of its misfortunes; the road was strewed with the dead: our
sufferings exceeded imagination. How many sick and wounded generals
did I meet in this terrible retreat, whom I believed that I should
never again see! Of this number was General Friant, whose wounds were
still open; General Durosnel, who travelled with a nervous fever,
almost continually delirious; and the brave General Belliard, who was
wounded by a gun-shot, in the battle of the Moskowa. He had formerly
penetrated nearly into Ethiopia; he had carried our colours farther
than ever the Roman eagles had flown; he must have found a difference
between the two climates.
We marched for Smolensko: it was to have been the end of our miseries;
we were to have found there food and clothing, wherewith to defend
ourselves from the pests which were consuming us: we were not more
than eighteen leagues from it. Napoleon lodged in one of those
little block-houses that had been constructed to receive detachments
from fifty to sixty men, employed to protect the correspondence
and communications. I was on duty: some time had elapsed since any
despatches had arrived; at last one came. I delivered it to the
Emperor. He opened the parcel with haste; a _Moniteur_ was uppermost.
He ran it over; the first article which caught his eye was the
enterprise of Mallet; he had not read the despatches, he did not
know what it was. “What is this! what! plots! conspiracies!” He
opened his letters, they contained the detail of the attempt: he was
thunderstruck. That police which knew every thing, which guessed at
every thing, had suffered itself to be taken by surprise. Napoleon
could not recover himself. “Savary in _La Force_! The minister of
the police arrested, carried to a prison, and there shut up!” I went
to transmit some orders. The event had already transpired. Surprise,
astonishment were depicted on every countenance; and some reflections
were made which till then had been withheld. The carelessness of the
agents of the police was manifest. They are only alert because there
is a general belief in their vigilance. Napoleon was not astonished
that these wretches who frequent saloons and taverns, who obstruct
every thing, who insinuate themselves every where, should not have
found out the plot; but he could not conceive the weakness of Rovigo.
“Why did he not rather let them kill him, than be arrested! Doucet and
Hullin showed much more courage.”
We proceeded on our journey; we crossed the Borysthenes. The Emperor
fixed his head-quarters in a country-house that had been laid waste,
twelve leagues from Smolensko, and one and a half behind the river.
The banks, on the water-side, are very step in this part; they were
covered with hoar frost. Napoleon was afraid that the artillery would
not be able to get over them; he charged me to join Ney, who commanded
the rear-guard, to remain with him till every thing was out of danger.
I found the Marshal engaged in giving chase to the Cossacks: I
communicated to him the orders that I had to transmit to him, and we
retired to a block-house which was to support the passage, and where
the head-quarters were fixed.
A part of the infantry crossed over, the remainder bivouacked in a
little wood, on the bank where we were. We were engaged all night
in getting the cannon across. The last was on the ascent, when the
enemy appeared. They attacked immediately, with considerable masses;
we received their charges without being shaken; but our end was
attained: we had no object in fighting; we retreated. We left behind
a few hundreds of men, whom wounds and exhaustion had put out of a
condition to follow. Poor creatures! they complained, they groaned,
and called for death; it was a heart-rending sight; but what could we
do. Every one was bending under the burthen of life, and supported
it with difficulty; no one had sufficient strength to share it with
others. The Russians pursued us, they wished to pass by main force.
Ney received them with that vigour, that impetuosity, which he always
displayed in his attacks: they were repulsed, and the bridge became a
prey to the flames. The firing ceased, we withdrew during the night.
I joined Napoleon at Smolensko the day after the next in the evening.
He knew that a ball had grazed my head, and that another had killed
my horse; he observed to me: “You may be at ease now, you will not be
killed this campaign.”—“I hope that your Majesty may not be deceived;
but you often gave the same assurance to poor Lannes, who nevertheless
was killed.”—“No! no! you will not be killed.”—“I believe it; but I
may be still frozen to death.” The Emperor bestowed eulogiums on
Marshal Ney. “What a man! what a soldier! what a vigorous fellow!”
He only talked thus by exclamations; he could not find words to
express the admiration which this intrepid Marshal inspired him with.
The Prince de Neuchâtel entered; the conversation again turned on
Mallet and Savary. Napoleon was merry at the expense of the Duke; his
surprise, his arrest, were the subject of a thousand pleasantries; of
which the burthen always was, that he should rather have been killed,
than have allowed himself to be taken.