fascination of a romance with the value of history, few persons much
care to consult any other French account of the great campaign. It was
with something of this feeling, and with slender expectation of
interest, that we opened General de Fezensac’s recently-published
Journal. But its perusal agreeably disappointed us. Narratives of
personal adventure have a peculiar charm; and the unadorned tale of a
soldier’s hazards will often rivet the attention of those who would not
persevere through the more copious and important history of a great war.
M. de Fezensac has not attempted the history of the campaign. He
confines himself to his own adventures and those of the regiment he
commanded. At most does he include in his delineations the exploits of
the 3d (Ney’s) corps, (to which his regiment belonged,) at the time when
cold, famine, fatigue, and the sword had reduced it to little more than
the ordinary strength of a brigade, and, subsequently, to a mere handful
of jaded, frost-bitten warriors. By a few lines here and there, he
supplies, with true military brevity, that outline of the operations
necessary to connect and complete the interest of his journal. He avoids
controversy; he is slow to censure acts or impute motives; his style is
remarkably free from that fanfarronade into which many French writers
unconsciously run when recording the military achievements of their
countrymen. He tells only what he himself saw, and he tells it modestly
and well, without attempt at rhetorical adornment; rightly believing
that the events he witnessed and shared in are sufficiently remarkable
to need no factitious colouring.
M. de Fezensac commenced the campaign upon the staff. In the capacity of
aide-de-camp to Berthier, he joined the headquarters of the Grand Army
at Posen, and marched with them to Wilna. It was in the month of June.
Already, although the campaign had been opened but a few days, during
which the Russians had everywhere receded before the invaders, certain
ominous circumstances contradicted, to observant eyes and reflecting
minds, those anticipations of triumphant success so confidently and
universally entertained, a few short weeks before, at Dresden. The
fervent heat was succeeded by torrents of rain; mortality amongst the
horses commenced; the army, living upon the country, suffered from want
of food and forage; already the number of stragglers was great, and acts
of pillage and violence were frequent. As an instance of these, when the
Poles, with Napoleon’s approval, organised a civil government of
Lithuania, one of the sub-prefects, repairing to his post, was plundered
by the French soldiers, and arrived almost naked in the town he was sent
to preside over. The French Emperor’s seventeen days’ halt at Wilna, so
severely censured by historians, gave M. de Fezensac opportunity to
observe the details and composition of the monstrous staff and retinue
that attended Napoleon, of which he furnishes the following curious
account:—
“The Emperor had around him the grand marshal, (Duroc,) the master
of the horse, (Caulaincourt,) his aides-de-camp, his orderly
officers, the aides-de-camp of his aides-de-camp, and several
secretaries attached to his cabinet. The major-general (Berthier)
had eight or ten aides-de-camp, and the number of clerks necessary
for the great amount of work occasioned by such an army; the general
staff, composed of a vast number of officers of all grades, was
commanded by General Monthion. The administration, directed by Count
Dumas, intendant-general, was subdivided into the administrative
service properly so called, comprising directors, inspectors of
reviews, and commissaries; the service of health, including
physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries; the service of provisions in
all its branches, and workmen of every kind. When the Prince of
Neuchatel passed it in review at Wilna, it looked, from a distance,
like a body of troops ranged in order of battle, and, by an
unfortunate fatality, notwithstanding the zeal and talents of the
intendant-general, this immense administration was almost useless
from the very commencement of the campaign, and became noxious at
its close. Let the reader now picture to himself the assemblage, at
one point, of the whole of this staff; let him fancy the prodigious
number of servants, of led horses, of baggage of all kinds that it
dragged along with it, and he will have some idea of the spectacle
presented by the headquarters of the army. Also, when a movement was
made, the Emperor took with him but a very small number of officers;
all the rest set out beforehand, or followed behind. At a bivouac,
the only tents were for the Emperor and the Prince of Neuchatel; the
generals and other officers slept in the open air, like the rest of
the army.
“There was nothing irksome in our duty as aides-de-camp to the
major-general.... In his personal intercourse with us, the Prince of
Neuchatel exhibited that mixture of goodness and roughness which
composed his character. Often he appeared to pay no attention to us,
but, upon occasion, we were sure to find his sympathy; and during the
whole of his long military career, he neglected the advancement of none
of the officers employed under his orders. The best house in the town,
after that taken for the Emperor, was allotted for his accommodation;
and as he himself always lodged with the Emperor, the house belonged to
his aides-de-camp. One of these was charged with the household details,
whose regularity was a pattern; the Prince of Neuchatel himself, in the
midst of all his occupations, found time to give his thoughts to these
matters; he wished his aides-de-camp to want for nothing, and had often
the goodness to inquire whether such was the case.... We saw little of
him, having no duty to do under his immediate eye; he passed almost the
whole day in his cabinet, dispatching orders agreeably with the
Emperor’s instructions. Never was there seen greater exactness, more
complete submission, more absolute devotion. It was by writing during
the night that he reposed from the fatigues of the day; often he was
roused from his sleep to alter all that he had done on the previous day,
and sometimes his sole recompense was an unjust, or, at least, a very
severe reprimand. But nothing slackened his zeal; no amount of bodily
fatigue, or of assiduity in the cabinet, exceeded his powers; no trials
wearied his patience. In short, if the Prince of Neuchatel’s position
never gave him an opportunity to develop the talents essential to the
commander-in-chief of great armies, it is at least impossible to unite,
in a higher degree, the physical and moral qualities adapted to the post
he filled near such a man as the Emperor.”
The peculiar talents of Berthier, his patience, industry, and wonderful
habit of order, have been often admitted, but we do not remember to have
seen his character placed in so amiable a light as here by his former
aide-de-camp. M. de Fezensac continued upon his staff until after the
battle of Borodino, when he was promoted by the Emperor, on Berthier’s
recommendation, to the command of the 4th regiment of the line, vacant
by its colonel’s death in that murderous fight. He was doubly grateful
for this promotion, because it placed him under the orders of Marshal
Ney, with whom he had served some years previously. As to the regiment
itself, it was in no very flourishing state. Of 2800 men who had crossed
the Rhine, 900 remained, so that the four battalions formed but two upon
parade. The equipments, and especially the shoes, were in bad repair;
supplies of provisions were irregular; and constant change of place was
indispensable, for the troops ravaged within twenty-four hours the
country they traversed. The majority of the officers were raw youths
from the military schools, or old sergeants, whose want of education
should have retained them in the ranks, but who had been promoted to
sustain emulation, and to fill the enormous gaps occasioned by
destructive campaigns. For the 4th was an old regiment, formed in the
first years of the Revolution, and had fought through all the German
wars, and numbered Joseph Buonaparte amongst its colonels. Its present
shattered and unprosperous condition extended to the whole of Ney’s
corps, which was reduced to a third of its original numbers. The losses
were unparalleled, and so was the depression of the soldiers. Their
gaiety had disappeared; a mournful silence replaced the songs and
pleasant tales with which they formerly beguiled the fatigues of the
march. The officers themselves were uneasy; they served for duty and for
honour’s sake, but without ardour or pleasure. After a victory that
opened the road to Moscow, this universal discouragement was strangely
ominous.
With his regimental command commences the interesting portion of M. de
Fezensac’s journal, of which his staff experience occupies but a couple
of chapters. Often as it has been described, he yet contrives to give
freshness to his details of Moscow’s appearance after the terrible
conflagration, at whose flame was sealed the doom of the Grand Army.
“It was both a strange and a horrible spectacle. Some houses appeared to
have been razed; of others, fragments of smoke-blackened walls remained;
ruins of all kinds encumbered the streets; everywhere was a horrible
smell of burning. Here and there a cottage, a church, a palace, stood
erect amidst the general destruction. The churches especially, by their
many-coloured domes, by the richness and variety of their construction,
recalled the former opulence of Moscow. In them had taken refuge most of
the inhabitants, driven by our soldiers from the houses the fire had
spared. The unhappy wretches, clothed in rags, and wandering like ghosts
amid the ruins, had recourse to the saddest expedients to prolong their
miserable existence. They sought and devoured the scanty vegetables
remaining in the gardens; they tore the flesh from the animals that lay
dead in the streets; some even plunged into the river for corn the
Russians had thrown there, and which was now in a state of
fermentation.... It was with the greatest difficulty we procured black
bread and beer; meat began to be very scarce. We had to send strong
detachments to seize oxen in the woods where the peasants had taken
refuge, and often the detachments returned empty-handed. Such was the
pretended abundance procured us by the pillage of the city. We had
liquors, sugar, sweatmeats, and we wanted for meat and bread. We covered
ourselves with furs, but were almost without clothes and shoes. With
great store of diamonds, jewels, and every possible object of luxury, we
were on the eve of dying of hunger. A large number of Russian soldiers
wandered in the streets of Moscow. I had fifty of them seized; and a
general, to whom I reported the capture, told me I might have had them
shot, and that on all future occasions he authorised me to do so. I did
not abuse the authorisation. It will be easily understood how many
mishaps, how much disorder, characterised our stay in Moscow. Not an
officer, not a soldier, but could tell strange anecdotes on this head.
One of the most striking is that of a Russian whom a French officer
found concealed in the ruins of a house; by signs he assured him of
protection, and the Russian accompanied him. Soon, being obliged to
carry an order, and seeing another officer pass at the head of a
detachment, he transferred the individual to his charge, saying
hastily—‘I recommend this gentleman to you.’ The second officer,
misunderstanding the intention of the words and the tone in which they
were pronounced, took the unfortunate Russian for an incendiary, and had
him shot.”
The retreat commenced. After the affair of Wiazma, Ney’s corps relieved
the 1st corps as rearguard, and the 4th regiment, rearmost of Ney’s
corps, had to repel the repeated attacks of the Russian van and of the
swarming Cossacks. They were hard pressed; but still the Emperor’s order
was to march slowly and preserve the baggage. In vain Ney wrote to him
there was no time to lose, and that he risked being anticipated by the
Russians at Smolensko or Orcha. At Dorogobuje the marshal formed the
design of arresting the progress of the Russians for a whole day; but
the attempt was unsuccessful, and the French rearguard was driven
onwards. The cold had set in, and the sufferings of the troops were
terrible. Famine was superadded to their other miseries. The road
resembled a battle-field. Some, with frozen limbs, lay dying on the
snow; others fell asleep in the villages, and perished in the flames
lighted by their comrades.
“At Dorogobuje I saw a soldier of my regiment, in whom hunger had
produced the effect of intoxication. He stood close to us without
recognising us, inquiring for his regiment, naming the soldiers of his
company, and at the same time speaking to them as to strangers; his gait
was tottering, his look wild. He disappeared at the commencement of the
affair, and I saw him no more. In two days from Dorogobuje, we reached
Slobpnowa, on the bank of the Dnieper. The road was so slippery that the
ill-shod horses could hardly keep their legs. At night we bivouacked
amidst the snow in the woods. Each regiment in turn formed the extreme
rearguard, which the enemy unceasingly followed and harassed. The army
continued to march so slowly, that we were on the point of overtaking
the 1st corps, which immediately preceded us. The encumbrance on the
bridge over the Dnieper was extreme: for a quarter of a league beyond,
the road was still covered with abandoned carriages and
ammunition-waggons. On the morning of the 10th November, before crossing
the river, measures were taken to clear the bridge and burn all these
vehicles. In them were found a few bottles of rum, which were of great
service. I was on the rearguard, and during the whole morning my
regiment defended the road leading to the bridge. The wood through which
this road passes was full of wounded whom we were obliged to leave to
their fate, and whom the Cossacks massacred almost by our sides. M.
Rouchat, sub-lieutenant, having imprudently approached an
ammunition-cart that was to be blown up, was shattered to pieces by the
explosion. Towards night the troops passed the Dnieper; the bridge was
destroyed.”
It was important to delay the enemy’s passage of the river, and Ney
prepared to do so.
“That night he walked for a long time in front of my regiment with
General Joubert and myself. He pointed out to us the unfortunate results
of the failure at Dorogobuje. The enemy had gained a day’s march; had
forced us to abandon ammunition, baggage, wounded: all these misfortunes
would have been avoided had we held Dorogobuje for twenty-four hours.
General Joubert spoke of the weakness of the troops, of their
discouragement. The marshal replied quickly, that the worst that could
have happened was to be killed, and that a glorious death was too fine a
thing to be shunned. For my part, I contented myself with remarking that
I had not left the heights of Dorogobuje till I had twice received the
order.”
The “bravest of the brave” could see no terrors in death. His own
insensibility to it made him slow to sympathise with others. A few days
later, M. de Fezensac learned the death of M. Alfred de Noailles, who
had been one of his brother aides-de-camp to Berthier.
“He was the first friend I had lost in this campaign, and it caused me
very deep sorrow. Marshal Ney, to whom I spoke on the subject, told me,
for sole consolation, _that apparently it was his turn; and that at any
rate it was better we should have to regret him than if he had to regret
us_. In similar circumstances he always showed the same insensibility:
on another occasion I heard him reply to an unfortunate wounded man, who
begged to be carried away—‘_What would you have me do? You are a victim
of war_;’ and he passed on. Most assuredly he was neither cruel nor
devoid of feeling; but the frequency of the misfortunes of war had
hardened his heart. Penetrated with the idea that the fate of all
soldiers is to die upon the field of battle, he thought it quite natural
they should fulfil their destiny; and it has been seen in this narrative
that he prized not his own life more highly than the lives of others.”
The passage of the river was defended for twenty-four hours. Two days
later, those of the weary rearguard who were not prevented by frozen
limbs or the cold hand of death from rising from their ice-bound
bivouac, joyfully beheld, at half a league’s distance, the towers of
Smolensko. Joyfully, because they had long looked for that town as the
term of their misery. Repose and food, so greatly needed, were there
anticipated. But there, as on every occasion during the retreat where
alleviation was hoped for, disappointment ensued. Wittgenstein was
pressing southwards from the Dwina, Tchitchagoff northwards to Minsk,
the Austrians had retreated behind the Bug, and the French were in
imminent danger of being intercepted at the Beresina. A halt at
Smolensko was impossible, and orders were given to continue the march.
Smolensko contained large stores of provisions; but these availed little
to the famished troops, for the general disorganisation had extended to
the commissariat, and waste was the result. The Guard, which arrived
first with Napoleon, received abundant supplies of all kinds; but then
came pouring in stragglers and undisciplined bodies; the warehouses were
broken open and plundered, and rations for several months were
squandered in a day. When the 3d corps, after defending the approaches
to the town, entered in its turn, the work of destruction was at an end,
and Colonel de Fezensac could find nothing either for his regiment or
himself. But though they had nothing to eat, they were expected to
fight; for Ney, the indefatigable, prepared obstinately to defend the
town. On the 15th November, a severe combat occurred in the suburb, in
which the 4th regiment was alone engaged, and during which its colonel
received from Ney the order that daring leader was most rarely known to
give—namely, not to advance too far. M. de Fezensac records this order
with as much honest pride as he does the warm eulogium which his
regiment’s conduct elicited from the marshal. For three days Smolensko
was held, and then the 3d corps resumed its march. Meanwhile the
Emperor, Eugene, and Davoust, with the Guard, the 4th and 1st corps,
were hard pressed at Krasnoi, the two latter, especially, suffering most
severely.
“The Emperor, having not a moment to lose to reach the Beresina, saw
himself compelled to abandon the 3d corps, and precipitated his march to
Orcha. During the three days’ fighting (at and near Krasnoi,) no
information was sent to Marshal Ney of the danger about to menace
him.... On the morning of the 18th November, we set out from Koritnya,
and marched upon Krasnoi: on approaching that town, a few squadrons of
Cossacks harassed the 2d division, which headed the column. We attached
no importance to this; we were accustomed to the Cossacks, and a few
musket-shots sufficed to drive them away. But soon the advanced guard
fell in with General Ricard’s division, belonging to the 1st corps,
which had remained behind, and had just been routed. The marshal rallied
the remains of this division, and under cover of a fog, which favoured
our march by concealing the smallness of our numbers, he approached the
enemy until their cannon compelled him to pause. The Russian army, drawn
up in order of battle, barred our further passage; then only did we
learn that we were cut off from the rest of the army, and that our sole
chance of salvation was in our despair.”
We know not whence M. de Fezensac derives his statements of numbers, but
they frequently require correction. At Borodino, for instance, he gives,
as an exact detail of the French loss, 6547 killed, and 21,453
wounded—making a total of about 28,000. Alison and other historians rate
it nearly twenty thousand higher; and certainly nothing in the events of
the battle argues it as much less than that of the Russians, which M. de
Fezensac estimates at about 50,000—figures confirmed by other
authorities. In like manner, he states the entire strength of the 3d
corps, when it first entered the fire of the Russian batteries at
Krasnoi, as barely 6000 combatants, with six guns, and a mere picket of
cavalry. This is extraordinarily discrepant with other accounts, which
make Ney’s loss, in the immediately ensuing engagement, to be nearly as
great as the whole number of bayonets allotted to him by M. de Fezensac.
Doubtless it was most difficult to ascertain numbers correctly during
that confused retreat, where there can have been little question of
muster-rolls and morning-states, and many seeming contradictions may be
explained, by some writers estimating only the effective fighting men,
and others including the unarmed and stragglers who dragged themselves
along with the columns. But we attach no importance to differences of
this kind as regards the _Journal_, which we here notice, not as a work
of historical value—a character to which it makes no pretensions—but as
the interesting memoir of a brave gentleman and soldier, who has written
down, modestly and unaffectedly, his own and his regiment’s share in a
most extraordinary campaign.
“Hardly had Marshal Ney withdrawn his advanced guard from under the
enemy’s guns, when a flag of truce, sent by General Miloradowitsch,
summoned him to lay down his arms. All who ever knew him will understand
with what disdain the proposal was received.... For sole reply, the
marshal made the messenger prisoner; a few cannon-shot, fired during
this species of negotiation, serving as a pretext; and then, without
considering the masses of the enemy and the small number of his own
followers, he ordered the attack. The 2d division, formed in columns by
regiments, marched straight to the enemy. Let me here be allowed to pay
homage to the devotedness of those brave soldiers, and to congratulate
myself on the honour of having marched at their head. The Russians
beheld them, with admiration, marching towards them in the most perfect
order, and with a steady step. Every cannon-ball carried away whole
files—every step rendered death more inevitable; but the pace was not
for an instant slackened. At last we got so near to the enemy’s line,
that the first division of my regiment, crushed by the grape-shot, was
thrown back upon that which followed, and disordered its array. Then the
Russian infantry charged us in its turn, and the cavalry, falling on our
flanks, completely routed us. Some sharpshooters, advantageously posted,
checked for an instant the enemy’s pursuit; the division of Ledru
deployed into line, and six guns replied to the numerous artillery of
the Russians. During this time, I rallied the remains of my regiment
upon the high road, where the cannon still reached us. Our attack had
not lasted a quarter of an hour, but the 2d division no longer existed:
my regiment lost several officers, and was reduced to two hundred men;
the regiment of Illyria, and the 18th, which lost its eagle, were still
worse treated; General Razout was wounded, and General Lenchantain made
prisoner. The marshal now made the 2d division retire on Smolensko; at
the end of half a league, he turned it to the left, across country, at
right angles with the road. The first division, having long exhausted
its strength by sustaining the shock of the whole hostile army, followed
this movement with the guns and some of the baggage; those of the
wounded who could still walk dragged themselves after us. The Russians
cantoned themselves in the villages, sending a column of cavalry to
observe us.