to become of us. But Marshal Ney’s presence sufficed to reassure us.
Without knowing what he would or could do, we knew he would do
something. His self-confidence equalled his courage. The greater the
danger, the more prompt was his determination; and when once he had made
up his mind, he never doubted of success. Thus, in that terrible hour,
his countenance expressed neither indecision nor uneasiness; all eyes
were fixed upon him, but none dared question him. At last, seeing near
him an officer of his staff, he said to him in a low voice: _We are not
well._—_What shall you do?_ replied the officer.—_Pass the
Dnieper._—_Where is the road?_—_We shall find it._—_And if the river is
not frozen?_—_It will be._—_So be it_, said the officer. This singular
dialogue, which I here set down word for word, revealed the marshal’s
project of reaching Orcha by the right bank of the river, and so rapidly
as still to find there the army, which was making its movement by the
left bank. The plan was bold and ably conceived; it will be seen with
what vigour it was executed.
“We marched across the fields, without a guide, and the inexactness of
the maps contributed to mislead us. Marshal Ney, endowed with that
peculiar talent of the great soldier which teaches how to take advantage
of the slightest indications, observed some ice in the direction we were
following, and had it broken, thinking it must be a rivulet that would
lead us to the Dnieper. It really was a rivulet; we followed it, and
reached a village, where the Marshal feigned to establish himself for
the night. Fires were lighted and pickets thrown out. The enemy left us
quiet, expecting to have us cheap the next day. Under cover of this
stratagem, the Marshal followed up his plan. A guide was wanted, and the
village was deserted; at last the soldiers discovered a lame peasant;
they asked him where was the Dnieper, and if frozen. He replied, that at
a league off was the village of Sirokowietz, and that the Dnieper must
there be frozen. We set out, conducted by this peasant, and soon reached
the village. The Dnieper was sufficiently frozen to be traversed on
foot. Whilst they sought a place to cross, the houses rapidly filled
with officers and soldiers, wounded that morning, who had dragged
themselves thus far, and to whose hurts the surgeons could hardly apply
the first dressings; those who were not wounded busied themselves in
seeking provisions. Marshal Ney, forgetful alike of the day’s and the
morrow’s dangers, was buried in a profound sleep.
“Towards the middle of the night we crossed the Dnieper, abandoning to
the enemy artillery, baggage, vehicles of every kind, and those wounded
who could not walk. M. de Briqueville, (aide-de-camp of the Duke of
Placentia,) dangerously wounded the day before, passed the river on his
hands and knees; I gave him in charge to two sappers, who succeeded in
saving him. The ice was so thin that very few horses could pass; the
troops re-formed on the other side of the stream. Thus far success had
attended the marshal’s plan; the Dnieper was crossed, but we were still
fifteen leagues from Orcha. It was essential to reach it before the
French army left; we had to traverse a strange country, and to repel the
attacks of the enemy with a handful of exhausted infantry, unsupported
by cavalry or artillery. The march began under favourable auspices, with
the capture of some Cossacks, surprised asleep in a village. At dawn on
the 19th we were following the road to Liubavitschi. We were scarcely
delayed for a moment by the passage of a torrent, and by some Cossack
detachments which retired on our approach. At noon we reached two
villages situated on a height, and whose inhabitants had scarcely time
to escape, leaving us their provisions. The soldiers were giving
themselves up to the joy occasioned by a moment of abundance, when there
was a sudden call to arms. The enemy was advancing, and had already
driven in our pickets. We left the villages, formed column, and resumed
our march. But we had no longer to deal, as heretofore, with detached
parties of Cossacks; here were whole squadrons, manœuvring in regular
order, and commanded by General Platow himself. Our skirmishers made
head against them; the columns accelerated their march, making their
arrangements to receive cavalry. Numerous as these horsemen were, we
feared them little, for the Cossacks never ventured to charge home a
square of infantry; but soon a battery of several guns opened fire upon
us. This artillery followed the movements of the cavalry, upon sledges,
wherever it could be of use. Until nightfall, Marshal Ney never ceased
to struggle against all these obstacles, skilfully availing himself of
the least advantages the nature of the ground afforded. Amidst the balls
which fell in our ranks, and in spite of the Cossacks’ yells and feigned
attacks, we marched at the same pace. Darkness approached; the enemy
redoubled his efforts. We had to quit the road, and to throw ourselves
to the left into the woods fringing the Dnieper. But the Cossacks
already held these woods; the 4th and 18th regiments, under command of
General d’Henin, were directed to drive them thence. Meanwhile the
hostile artillery took position on the further brink of a ravine we had
to pass. There General Platow reckoned on exterminating us.
“I entered the wood with my regiment. The Cossacks retired; but the wood
was deep, and tolerably dense, and we had to face every way to guard
against surprise. Night came, we no longer heard anything around us; it
was more than probable that Marshal Ney was continuing his advance. I
advised General d’Henin to follow his movement; he refused, lest he
should incur reproach from the marshal for quitting, without orders, the
post assigned to him. At this moment loud shouts, announcing a charge,
were heard at some distance in our front; giving us the certainty that
the column was continuing its march, and that we were about to be cut
off from it. I redoubled my entreaties, assuring General d’Henin that
the marshal, with whose way of serving I was well acquainted, would send
him no order, because he expected commanding officers, thus detached, to
act according to circumstances; besides which, he was too far off to be
able to communicate with us, and the 18th regiment had assuredly moved
on long ago. The general persisted in his refusal; all I obtained from
him was to move us on to the place where the 18th ought to be, and unite
the two regiments. The 18th had marched, and in its place we found a
squadron of Cossacks. Tardily convinced of the justice of my remarks,
General d’Henin determined to rejoin the column; but we had traversed
the wood in so many directions, that we no longer knew our way. The
officers of my regiment were consulted, and we took the direction the
majority thought the right one. I will not undertake to describe all we
had to endure during that cruel night. I had but one hundred men left,
and we were more than a league in rear of our main body, which we must
overtake through a host of enemies. It was necessary to march quick
enough to make up for lost time, and in sufficient order to resist the
attacks of the Cossacks. The darkness, the uncertainty of our road, the
difficulty of making way through the wood, all augmented our
embarrassment. The Cossacks called to us to surrender, and fired
pointblank into the midst of us: those who were hit remained behind. A
sergeant had his leg broken by a carbine ball. He fell at my side,
saying coolly to his comrades—_Another man done for; take my havresack,
you will profit by it._ They took his havresack, and we moved on in
silence. Two wounded officers had the same fate. I observed with
uneasiness the impression our position made upon the soldiers, and even
upon the officers, of my regiment. Men who had shown themselves heroes
in the battle-field, now appeared anxious and troubled; so true is it
that the circumstances of danger have often greater terrors than the
danger itself. Very few preserved the presence of mind that was then
more necessary than ever. I needed all my authority to maintain order
and prevent straggling. An officer even ventured to say, that we should
perhaps be obliged to surrender. I reprimanded him aloud, and the more
severely that he was an officer of merit, which made the lesson more
striking. At last, after more than an hour, we emerged from the wood and
found the Dnieper on our left. We were in the right track, therefore;
and this discovery gave the men a moment’s joy, of which I took
advantage to cheer them up, and inculcate coolness, which alone could
save us. General d’Henin moved us along the river’s bank to prevent the
enemy from turning us. We were far from out of our difficulties; we knew
our way, but the plain over which we marched permitted the enemy to fall
on us in a large body, and to use their artillery. Fortunately it was
dark, and the guns were fired rather at random. From time to time the
Cossacks approached with loud cries; we stopped to drive them away with
musketry, and then set off again. This march lasted two hours over the
most difficult ground, across ravines so abrupt, that it required the
utmost efforts to ascend the opposite side, and through half-frozen
rivulets, where we had water to our knees. Nothing could shake the
constancy of the soldiers; the utmost order was preserved; not a man
left his rank. General d’Henin, wounded by a fragment of shell,
concealed his hurt in order not to discourage the soldiers, and
continued to command with unabated zeal. Doubtless he may be reproached
with too obstinate a defence of the wood, but in such difficult
circumstances error is pardonable; and what cannot be disputed, is the
bravery and intelligence with which he led us during the whole of this
perilous march. At last the enemy’s pursuit slackened, and on an
eminence in our front fires were seen. It was Marshal Ney’s rearguard,
which had halted there, and was now resuming its march: we joined it,
and learned that upon the previous evening the marshal had advanced
against the Cossack artillery, and forced it to yield him passage.
“Thus did the 4th regiment extricate itself from a position seemingly
desperate. The march lasted another hour. The exhausted soldiers
required repose, and we halted in a village where we found some
provisions. But we were still eight leagues from Orcha, and General
Platow would doubtless redouble his efforts for our destruction. The
moments were precious; at one in the morning the assembly sounded, and
we set out.... We marched unmolested till the dawn. With the first
sunrays came the Cossacks, and soon our road led us over a plain.
General Platow, desirous of profiting by this advantage, advanced that
sledge-artillery which we could neither avoid nor overtake; and when he
thought he had disordered our ranks, he commanded a charge. Marshal Ney
rapidly formed each of his two divisions into a square; the 2d, under
General d’Henin, being the rearmost, was first exposed. We forced all
stragglers who still had a musket to join our ranks; severe threats were
required to do this. The Cossacks, but feebly restrained by our
skirmishers, and driving before them a crowd of unarmed fugitives,
strove to reach the square. On their approach, and under fire of the
artillery, our soldiers hastened their march. Twenty times I beheld them
on the point of disbanding and flying in all directions, leaving us at
the mercy of the Cossacks; but the presence of Marshal Ney, the
confidence he inspired, his calmness in the moment of such great danger,
kept them to their duty. We reached an eminence. The marshal ordered
General d’Henin to hold it; adding, that we must know how to die there
for the honour of France. Meanwhile, General Ledru marched to Jokubow, a
village on the edge of a wood. When he had established himself there, we
marched to join him: the two divisions took up a position, mutually
flanking each other. It was not yet noon, and Marshal Ney declared he
would defend this village till nine at night. General Platow made twenty
attempts to take it from us; his attacks were constantly repulsed, and
at last, fatigued by such a tenacious resistance, he himself took
position opposite to us.
“Early in the morning the marshal had sent off a Polish officer, who
reached Orcha and described our condition. The Emperor had left the town
the day before: the Viceroy and Marshal Davoust still occupied it. At
nine that night we resumed our march in profound silence. The Cossack
pickets, distributed along the road, retired at our approach. The march
continued with much order. At a league from Orcha, our vanguard fell in
with an advanced post, which challenged in French. It was a division of
the 4th corps coming to our assistance with the Viceroy. One must have
passed three days between life and death to judge of the joy this
meeting gave us. The Viceroy received us with lively emotion, and warmly
expressed to Marshal Ney his admiration of his conduct. He congratulated
the generals and the two remaining colonels. His aides-de-camp
surrounded us, and overwhelmed us with questions on the details of this
great drama, and the part that each of us had played in it. But time
pressed; after a few minutes we again moved on. The Viceroy formed our
rearguard: at three in the morning we entered Orcha. Thus terminated
this bold march, one of the most curious episodes of the campaign. It
covered Marshal Ney with glory, and to him the 3d corps owed its
salvation; if, indeed, the term of _corps d’ armée_ may be applied to
the 800 or 900 men who reached Orcha, remnant of the 6000 who had fought
at Krasnoi.”
For eighteen days, over a distance of sixty leagues, the 3d corps had
formed the rearguard. Diminished as its numbers now were, it was no
longer available for that dangerous duty, and it joined the main body.
Scarcely had it taken three hours’ repose in some wretched houses of the
faubourg of Orcha, when the Russians, from the other side of the
Dnieper, set fire to the town with shells, which were more particularly
aimed at some conspicuous buildings, serving as provision-stores. It was
impossible to serve out rations; at the risk of their lives, a few
soldiers brought off some brandy and flour; but Davoust, now in command
of the rearguard, hurried the troops’ departure, and by eight o’clock
the unfortunate 3d corps was on the march to Borisow. A broad, good road
facilitated their progress, and Colonel de Fezensac, no longer occupied
in repelling the enemy, was able to investigate the state of his
regiment. Eighty men remained, out of the 2800 that began the campaign;
eighty tattered, famine-stricken, desponding wretches. They lived from
hand to mouth, almost by a miracle; sometimes on flour steeped in water;
at others, with a morsel of honeycomb or fragment of horseflesh; their
sole drink the melted snow. “At some distance from Orcha, I fell in with
M. Lanusse, a captain of my regiment, who had lost his sight by a shot,
at the taking of Smolensko; a sutler belonging to his company was
leading and taking the greatest care of him. He told me that after
having been taken and plundered by the Cossacks at Krasnoi, he had
contrived to escape, and that he and his guide would do their utmost to
keep up with us. Soon afterwards they were found dead and stripped upon
the road.”
Bad as the state of things already was, it became worse after the
passage of the Beresina; for the cold, abated for a while, resumed all
its severity, and heavy snow almost stifled the scanty fires kindled by
the unhappy fugitives. “I myself was at the end of my resources. I had
but a horse left; my last portmanteau had been lost at the Beresina; I
had nothing but what I stood in, and we were still fifty leagues from
Wilna, eighty from the Niemen; but, amidst so many misfortunes, I took
little account of my personal sufferings and privations. Like us,
Marshal Ney had lost everything; his aides-de-camp were dying of hunger,
and I gratefully remember that more than once they shared with me the
scanty food they managed to procure.” On the 29th November, during a
brief halt of the 3d corps, a confused stream of stragglers poured by,
all of whom had to tell of a miraculous escape at the Beresina. “I
remarked an Italian officer, who scarcely breathed, borne by two
soldiers, and accompanied by his wife. Greatly touched by this woman’s
grief, and by the care she lavished on her husband, I yielded her my
place at a fire the men had lighted. It needed all the illusion of her
affection to blind her to the inutility of her care. Her husband had
ceased to live, and still she called and spoke to him; until at last, no
longer able to doubt her misfortune, she fell fainting upon his corpse.”
“There would be no end to the task,” continues M. de Fezensac, “if one
attempted to relate all the horrible, affecting, and often incredible
anecdotes that signalised that terrible time. A general, exhausted with
fatigue, had fallen upon the road. A passing soldier began to pull off
his boots; the general, raising himself with difficulty, begged him to
wait till he was dead before stripping him. ‘General,’ replied the
soldier, ‘I would willingly do so; but another would take them; I may as
well have the benefit.’ And he continued to take off the boots.
“One soldier was being plundered by another; he entreated to be allowed
to die in peace. ‘Pardon me, comrade,’ was the reply, ‘I thought you
were dead;’ and he passed on. For the consolation of humanity, a few
traits of sublime devotion contrasted with the innumerable ones of
egotism and insensibility. That of a drummer of the 7th regiment of
light infantry has been particularly cited. His wife, sutler to the
regiment, fell ill at the beginning of the retreat. The drummer brought
her to Smolensko in her cart. At Smolensko the horse died; then the
husband harnessed himself to the cart, and dragged his wife to Wilna. At
that town she was too ill to go any farther, and her husband remained
prisoner with her.
“A sutler of the 33d regiment had been brought to bed in Prussia, before
the beginning of the campaign. She followed her regiment to Moscow, with
her little daughter, who was six months old when the army left that
city. During the retreat this child lived by a miracle: her sole
nourishment was black pudding made of horses’ blood: she was wrapped in
a fur taken at Moscow, and often her head was bare. Twice she was lost;
and they found her again, first in a field, then in a burnt village,
lying on a mattress. Her mother crossed the Beresina on horseback, with
water to her neck, holding the bridle in one hand, and with the other
her child upon her head. Thus, by a succession of marvellous
circumstances, this little girl got through the retreat without
accident, and did not even take cold.”
For many many leagues before reaching the Niemen, the harassed remnant
of the great French army had looked forward to that river as the term of
pursuit. The idea that the Russians would not pass the Niemen had taken
a strong hold of the imaginations of both officers and soldiers. At
Kowno, a stand was made by the rearguard; no very steadfast one,
certainly; but then, as ever, Ney proved equal to the emergency. An
earthen work, hastily thrown up, seemed to him sufficient to check the
foe for a whole day. Here were posted two pieces of cannon, and some
Bavarian infantry; and the marshal sought a moment’s repose in his
quarters. But the very first discharge of the Russian artillery
dismounted a French gun; the infantry took to flight—the gunners were
about to follow. Another minute, and the Cossacks might enter the
streets unopposed. Just then Ney appeared upon the ramparts, musket in
hand. His absence had been nearly fatal; his presence restored the
fight. The troops rallied, and the position was held till night, when
the retreat recommenced. The bridge was crossed, and each man, as he set
foot south of the Niemen, deemed himself safe. Great then was the
consternation of all, when, at the foot of a lofty hill, over which
winds the road to Königsberg, an alarm was given, and, at the same
moment, a cannon-ball plunged into their ranks. The Cossacks had crossed
the river on the ice, and had established themselves on the summit of
the mountain. This fresh danger, so totally unexpected, completed the
demoralisation of the troops. Brave spirits, which, till then, had
steadfastly held out, lost their firmness in face of this new calamity.
There is something very affecting in the following passage:—
“Generals Marchand and Ledru succeeded in forming a sort of battalion by
uniting the stragglers to the 3d corps, (again on rearguard.) But it was
in vain to attempt to force a passage; the muskets were unserviceable,
and the soldiers dared not advance. There was nothing for it but to
remain under fire of the artillery, without daring to take a step
backwards, for that would have exposed us to a charge, and our
destruction was then certain. This position drove to despair two
officers, who had been a pattern to my regiment during the whole
retreat, but whose courage at last gave way under long physical
exhaustion. They came to me and said, that as they were no longer able
either to march or to fight, they should fall into the hands of the
Cossacks, who would massacre them, and that, to avoid this, they must
return to Kowno and yield themselves prisoners. I made useless efforts
to dissuade them, appealing to their feelings of honour, to the courage
of which they had given so many proofs, to their attachment to the
regiment they now proposed abandoning; and I conjured them, if death was
inevitable, at least to die in our company. For sole reply they embraced
me with tears, and returned into Kowno. Two other officers had the same
fate; one was intoxicated with rum, and could not follow us; the other,
whom I particularly loved, disappeared soon afterwards. My heart was
torn: I waited for death to come and reunite me to my unhappy comrades,
and I should perhaps have wished for it but for all the ties which, at
that time, still bound me to life.”
Once more Ney came to the rescue. No accumulation of difficulties could
cloud his brow with uneasiness. Once more his promptness and energy
saved his shattered corps. A flank march was the means resorted to. On
the 20th December, the 3d corps reached Königsberg. It then consisted of
about one hundred men on foot, about as many cripples on sledges, and a
handful of officers.
“Monsieur le duc,” wrote Marshal Ney to the Duke of Feltre, Minister of
War, from Berlin, on the 23d January 1813, “I avail myself of the moment
when the campaign is, if not terminated, at least suspended, to express
to you all the satisfaction I have received from M. de Fezensac’s manner
of serving. That young man has been placed in very critical
circumstances, and has always shown himself superior to them. I commend
him to you as a true French chevalier, (_veritable chevalier Français_,)
whom you may henceforth consider as a veteran colonel.”
M. de Fezensac almost apologises for subjoining to his journal this
extract from a letter now in his possession. He has no need to do so. He
may well and honestly exult in such a testimonial from such a man.
THE PENITENT FREE-TRADER.
Tufnell! For the love of mercy,
Let me go for half an hour—
I’ll be back before that proser
Hath discussed the price of flour.
Don’t you hear, he’s just beginning
To investigate the rate
Of the Mecklenburg quotations,
Metage, lighterage, and freight?
Next, I know, he’ll pass to Dantzic,
With a glimpse at Rostock wheat—
I have seen the whole already
In his Economic sheet.
See! upon the backward benches
There reposes stealthy Peel—
Dreaming, doubtless, that he’s smothered
In an atmosphere of meal.
Palmerston’s recumbent yonder—
Hawes is sleeping by the door;
Even Russell’s tiny nostril
Quivers with a nascent snore.
Let me go—nay, do not hold me
So intensely by the coat;
I assure you, on my honour,
I’ll be back in time to vote.
Oh, the night-winds wander sweetly
O’er my hot and throbbing brow!
What a contrast is the moonlight
To the scene I left just now!
Let me walk a little onward
Underneath the budding trees,
Where the faint perfume is wafted
On the pinions of the breeze:
Overhead a thousand starlets
Glisten in the robe of night,
And the earth is wrapped in slumber
With a pure and calm delight.
By your leave, good Master Tufnell,
I shall stay a little here;
You have plenty noodles yonder
Who are safe enough to cheer
Wilson’s dunderhead discourses,
Or the cant of Labouchere!