The oppressive continental policy of Napoleon caused the rupture of the
peace of Tilsit, and led to the grand, but disastrous invasion of
Russia. Alexander gave the first offence by not fulfilling the condition
of his treaty with Napoleon. The French Emperor then began to see the
error of that treaty. It should have secured the independence of Poland.
The czar pressed Napoleon for a declaration that Poland should never be
re-established, but the Emperor refused to make this concession. Both
rulers then prepared for a struggle on a gigantic scale. Napoleon
determined to invade, and Alexander was resolved to make a resolute
defence.
Napoleon determined to concentrate an army of four hundred thousand men
upon the banks of the Niemen. He was thoroughly informed of the vast
resources of France and of the condition of the country through which he
would be compelled to march. As far as human calculation could reach,
his views were clear and accurate.
It was from the bosom of that France, of which he had made a “citadel,”
which appeared impregnable, and across that Germany whose sovereigns
were at his feet, that Napoleon wended his way towards the frontier of
the Russian empire, in order to place himself at the head of the most
formidable army which the genius of conquest had ever led. Fouche,
Cardinal Fesch, and other noted councillors strove to dissuade Napoleon
from the impending war; but the Emperor was confident, and seems to have
entertained no doubt of his success. “The war,” he said, “is a wise
measure, called for by the true interests of France and the general
welfare. The great power I have already attained, compels me to assume
an universal dictatorship. My views are not ambitious. I desire to
obtain no further acquisition; and reserve to myself only the glory of
doing good, and the blessings of posterity. There must be but one
European code; one court of appeal; one system of money, weights and
measures; equal justice and uniform laws throughout the continent.
Europe must constitute but one great nation, and Paris must be the
capital of the world.” Grand but premature conception!
The signal for the advance of the Grand Army was now sounded. It moved
forward in thirteen divisions, besides the Imperial Guard, and certain
chosen troops. The first division was headed by the stern and intrepid
Davoust; the second, by Oudinot; the third, by the indomitable Ney; the
fourth, by the skilful Prince Eugene; the fifth, by the devoted
Poniatowski; the sixth, by that cool and skilful general, Gouvion St.
Cyr; the seventh, by the veteran Regnier; the eighth, by the brave but
reckless Jerome Bonaparte; the ninth, by the resolute Victor; the tenth,
by the hero of Wagram, Macdonald; the eleventh, by the old veteran of
Italy, Augereau; the twelfth, by the bold and brilliant Murat; and the
thirteenth by Prince Schwartzenberg. The Old Guard—that solid and
impenetrable phalanx—was commanded by Bessieres, Le Febre and Mortier.
Long before daybreak, on the 23d of June, the French army approached the
Niemen. It was only two o’clock in the morning, when the Emperor,
accompanied only by General Hays, rode forward to reconnoitre. He wore a
Polish dress and bonnet, and thus escaped observation. After a close
scrutiny, he discovered a spot near the village of Poineven, above
Kowno, favorable to the passage of the troops, and gave orders for three
bridges to be thrown across, at nightfall. The whole day was occupied in
preparing facilities for the passage of the river, the line which
separated them from the Russian soil.
The first who crossed the river were a few sappers in a boat. The day
had been very warm, and the night was welcomed by the weary soldiers,
who knew they had yet a difficult task to perform. Napoleon, who had
been somewhat depressed all day, now seemed to regain his cheerful
spirits. He posted himself upon a slight eminence, where he could
superintend operations. The sappers found all silent on the Russian
soil, and no enemy appeared to oppose them, with the exception of a
single Cossack officer on patrole, who asked, with an air of surprise,
who they were, and what they wanted. The sappers quickly replied,
“Frenchmen!” and one of them briskly added, “Come to make war upon you;
to take Wilna, and deliver Poland.” The Cossack fled into the wood, and
three French soldiers discharged their pieces at him without effect.
These three shots were the signals for the opening of this
ever-memorable campaign. Their echoes roused Napoleon from the lethargy
into which he had fallen, and he immediately planned the most active
measures.
Three hundred voltigeurs were sent across to protect the erection of the
bridges. At the same time, the dark masses of the French columns began
to issue from the valleys and forests, and to approach the river, in
order to cross it at dawn of day.
All fires were forbidden, and perfect silence was enjoined. The men
slept with their arms in their hands, on the green corn, heavily
moistened with dew, which served them for beds, and their horses for
provender. Those on watch, passed the hours in reading over the
Emperor’s proclamation, and speculating on the prospect which the
daylight would disclose. The night was keen, and pitch dark. The silence
maintained amidst such a prodigious mass of life—felt to be there,
whilst nothing could be seen—rendered the hours unspeakably solemn.
Before dawn, the whole array was under arms; but the first beams of the
sun shewed no opposing enemy; nothing but dry and desert sand, and dark
silent forests. On their own side of the river, men and horses, and
glittering arms, covered every spot of ground within the range of the
eye, and the Emperor’s tent in the midst of them stood on an elevation.
At a given signal, the immense mass began to defile in three columns
towards the bridges. Two divisions of the advanced guard, in their ardor
for the precedence, nearly came to blows. Napoleon crossed among the
first, and stationed himself near the bridges to encourage the men by
his presence. They saluted him with their usual acclamations. He seemed
depressed, for a time, partly owing to his previous exertions and want
of rest, partly from the excessive heat of the day, but no doubt still
more from the passive desolation which met his forces, when he had
expected a mortal enemy to contend with him in arms. This latter feeling
was presently manifested in its reaction, and with a fierce impatience
he set spurs to his horse, dashed into the country, and penetrated the
forest which bordered the river; “as if,” says Segur, “he were on fire
to come in contact with the enemy alone.” He rode more than a league in
the same direction, surrounded throughout by the same solitude. He then
returned to the vicinity of the bridges, and led the army into the
country, while a menacing sky hung black and heavy over the moving host.
The distant thunder began to roar and swell, and the storm soon
descended. The lightning flamed across the whole expanse above their
heads; they were drenched with torrents of rain; the roads were all
inundated; and the recently oppressive heat of the atmosphere was
suddenly changed to a bitter chilliness. Some thousands of horses
perished on the march, and in the bivouacs which followed: many
equipages were abandoned on the sands; and many men fell sick and died.
The Emperor found shelter in a convent, from the first fury of the
tempest, but shortly departed for Kowno, where the greatest disorder
prevailed. The passage of Oudinot had been impeded by the bridge across
the Vilia having been broken down by the Cossacks. Napoleon treated this
circumstance with contempt, and ordered a squadron of the Polish guard
to spur into the flood, and swim across. This fine picked troop
instantly obeyed. They proceeded at first in good order, and soon
reached the centre of the river; but here the current was too strong,
and their ranks were broken. They redoubled their exertions, but the
horses became frightened and unmanageable. Both men and horses were soon
exhausted. They no longer swam, but floated about in scattered groups,
rising and sinking, while some among them went down. At length, the men,
finding destruction inevitable, ceased their struggles, but as they were
sinking, they turned their faces towards Napoleon, and cried out, “Vive
l’Empereur!” Three of these noble-spirited patriots uttered this cry,
while only a part of their faces were above the waters. The army was
struck with a mixture of horror and admiration. Napoleon watched the
scene apparently unmoved, but gave every order he could devise for the
purpose of saving as many of them as possible, though with little
effect. It is probable that his strongest feeling, even at the time, was
a presentiment that this disastrous event was but the beginning of
others, at once tremendous and extensive.
Marshal Oudinot with the second corps crossed the Vilia, by a bridge at
Keydani. Meanwhile the rest of the army was still crossing the Niemen,
in which operation three entire days were consumed.
After the first night of the arrival upon the Niemen, camp-fires were
permitted, and their vast line illumined the sky to a great distance.
The troops suffered severely from the sudden changes of the weather—from
oppressive heat to piercing cold. But when we learn their sufferings in
the rest of the campaign, we forget this first taste of misery. Before
the army had entirely crossed the Niemen, Napoleon reached the plain of
Wilna, which he found the Russians had deserted. However, he was
received by the inhabitants of Wilna as a deliverer, and the restorer of
the nationality of Poland. Still the steady movement of retreat, laying
waste the country—the plan which the Russian generals had adopted—caused
the Emperor to be gloomy, and it seemed as if the cloud of adversity had
already begun to obscure his star.
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[Illustration: MASSENA.]