Book: History of the Expedition to Russia

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But Napoleon was long before he could determine to quit the Boristhenes.
It appeared to him that this was like a second abandonment of the
unfortunate Ney, and casting off for ever his intrepid companion in
arms. There, as he had done at Liady and Dombrowna, he was calling every
hour of the day and night, and sending to inquire if no tidings had been
heard of that marshal; but not a trace of his existence had transpired
through the Russian army; four days this mortal silence had lasted, and
yet the Emperor still continued to hope.

At last, being compelled, on the 20th of November, to quit Orcha, he
still left there Eugene, Mortier, and Davoust, and halted at two leagues
from thence, inquiring for Ney, and still expecting him. The same
feeling of grief pervaded the whole army, of which Orcha then contained
the remains. As soon as the most pressing wants allowed a moment's rest,
the thoughts and looks of every one were directed towards the Russian
bank. They listened for any warlike noise which might announce the
arrival of Ney, or rather his last sighs; but nothing was to be seen but
enemies who were already menacing the bridges of the Boristhenes! One of
the three leaders then wished to destroy them, but the others refused
their consent, on the ground, that this would be again separating them
from their companion in arms, and a confession that they despaired of
saving him, an idea to which, from their dread of so great a misfortune,
they could not reconcile themselves.

But with the fourth day all hope at last vanished. Night only brought
with it a wearisome repose. They blamed themselves for Ney's misfortune,
forgetting that it was utterly impossible to wait longer for the third
corps in the plains of Krasnoe, where they must have fought for another
twenty-eight hours, when they had merely strength and ammunition left
for one.

Already, as is the case in all cruel losses, they began to treasure up
recollections. Davoust was the last who had quitted the unfortunate
marshal, and Mortier and the viceroy were inquiring of him what were his
last words! At the first reports of the cannonade opened on the 15th on
Napoleon, Ney was anxious immediately to evacuate Smolensk in the suite
of the viceroy; Davoust refused, pleading the orders of the Emperor, and
the obligation to destroy the ramparts of the town. The two chiefs
became warm, and Davoust persisting to remain until the following day,
Ney, who had been appointed to bring up the rear, was compelled to wait
for him.

It is true, that on the 16th, Davoust sent to warn him of his danger;
but Ney, either from a change of opinion, or from an angry feeling
against Davoust, then returned him for answer, "That all the Cossacks in
the universe should not prevent him from executing his instructions."

After exhausting these recollections and all their conjectures, they
again relapsed into a more gloomy silence, when suddenly they heard the
steps of several horses, and then the joyful cry, "Marshal Ney is safe!
here are some Polish cavalry come to announce his approach!" One of his
officers then galloped in, and informed them that the marshal was
advancing on the right bank of the Boristhenes, and had sent him to ask
for assistance.

Night had just set in; Davoust, Eugene, and Mortier had only its short
duration to revive and animate the soldiers, who had hitherto always
bivouacked. For the first time since they left Moscow, these poor
fellows had received a sufficient quantum of provisions; they were about
to prepare them and to take their rest, warm and under cover: how was it
possible to make them resume their arms, and turn them from their
asylums during that night of rest, whose inexpressible sweets they had
just begun to taste? Who could persuade them to interrupt it, to retrace
their steps, and return once more into the darkness and frozen deserts
of Russia?

Eugene and Mortier disputed the honour of this sacrifice, and the first
only carried it in right of his superior rank. Shelter and the
distribution of provisions had effected that which threats had failed to
do. The stragglers were rallied, the viceroy again found himself at the
head of four thousand men; all were ready to march at the news of Ney's
danger; but it was their last effort.

They proceeded in the darkness, by unknown roads, and had marched two
leagues at random, halting every few minutes to listen. Their anxiety
was already increased. Had they lost their way? were they too late? had
their unfortunate comrades fallen? was it the victorious Russian army
they were about to meet? In this uncertainty, Prince Eugene directed
some cannon shot to be fired. Immediately after they fancied they heard
signals of distress on that sea of snow; they proceeded from the third
corps, which, having lost all its artillery, answered the cannon of the
fourth by some volleys of platoon firing.

The two corps were thus directed towards their meeting. Ney and Eugene
were the first to recognize each other; they ran up, Eugene more
precipitately, and threw themselves into each other's arms. Eugene wept,
Ney let some angry words escape him. The first was delighted, melted,
and elevated by the warlike heroism which his chivalrous heroism had
just saved! The latter, still heated from the combat, irritated at the
dangers which the honour of the army had run in his person, and blaming
Davoust, whom he wrongfully accused of having deserted him.

Some hours afterwards, when the latter wished to excuse himself, he
could draw nothing from Ney but a severe look, and these words,
"Monsieur le Marechal, I have no reproaches to make to you; God is our
witness and your judge!"

When the two corps had fairly recognized each other, they no longer kept
their ranks. Soldiers, officers, generals, all ran towards each other.
Those of Eugene shook hands with those of Ney; they touched them with a
joyful mixture of astonishment and curiosity, and pressed them to their
bosoms with the tenderest compassion. The refreshments and brandy which
they had just received they lavished upon them; they overwhelmed them
with questions. They then all proceeded together in company, towards
Orcha, all impatient, Eugene's soldiers to hear, and Ney's to tell their
story.




CHAP. VIII.


They stated, that on the 17th of November they had quitted Smolensk with
twelve cannon, six thousand infantry, and three hundred cavalry, leaving
there five thousand sick at the mercy of the enemy; and that had it not
been for the noise of Platof's cannon, and the explosion of the mines,
their marshal would never have been able to bring away from the ruins of
that city seven thousand unarmed stragglers who had taken shelter in
them. They dwelt upon the attentions which their leader had shown to the
wounded, and to the women and their children, proving upon this occasion
that the bravest was again the most humane.

At the gates of the city an unnatural action struck them with a degree
of horror which was still undiminished. A mother had abandoned her
little son, only five years old; in spite of his cries and tears she had
driven him away from her sledge which was too heavily laden. She herself
cried out with a distracted air, "that _he_ had never seen France! that
_he_ would not regret it! as for _her_, _she_ knew France! _she_ was
resolved to see France once more!" Twice did Ney himself replace the
unfortunate child in the arms of his mother, twice did she cast him off
on the frozen snow.

This solitary crime, amidst a thousand instances of the most devoted and
sublime tenderness, they did not leave unpunished. The unnatural mother
was herself abandoned to the same snow from which her infant was
snatched, and entrusted to another mother; this little orphan was
exhibited in their ranks; he was afterwards seen at the Berezina, then
at Wilna, even at Kowno, and finally escaped from all the horrors of the
retreat.

The officers of Ney continued, in answer to the pressing questions of
those of Eugene; they depicted themselves advancing towards Krasnoe,
with their marshal at their head, completely across our immense wrecks,
dragging after them one afflicted multitude, and preceded by another,
whose steps were quickened by hunger.

They described how they found the bottom of each ravine filled with
helmets, hussar-caps, trunks broken open, scattered garments, carriages
and cannon, some overturned, others with the horses still harnessed, and
the poor animals worn out, expiring and half devoured.

How, near Korythinia, at the end of their first day's march, a violent
cannonading and the whistling of several bullets over their heads, had
led them to imagine that a battle had just commenced. This discharge
appeared to proceed from before and quite close to them even upon the
road, and yet they could not get sight of a single enemy. Ricard and his
division advanced with a view to discover them, but they only found, in
a turn of the road, two French batteries abandoned, with their
ammunition, and in the neighbouring field a horde of wretched Cossacks,
who immediately fled, terrified at their audacity in setting fire to
them, and at the noise they had made.

Ney's officers here interrupted their narrative to inquire in their turn
what had passed? What was the cause of the general discouragement? why
had the cannon been abandoned to the enemy untouched? Had they not had
time to spike them, or at least to spoil their ammunition?

In continuation, they said they had hitherto only discovered the traces
of a disastrous march. But next morning there was a complete change, and
they confessed their unlucky presentiments when they arrived at that
field of snow reddened with blood, sprinkled with broken cannon and
mutilated corses. The dead bodies still marked the ranks and places of
battle; they pointed them out to each other. _There_ had been the 14th
division; _there_ were still to be seen, on the broken plates of their
caps, the numbers of its regiments. _There_ had been the Italian guard;
there were its dead, whose uniforms were still distinguishable! But
where were its living remnants? Vainly did they interrogate that field
of blood, these lifeless forms, the motionless and frozen silence of the
desert and the grave! they could neither penetrate into the fate of
their companions, nor into that which awaited themselves.

Ney hurried them rapidly over all these ruins, and they had advanced
without impediment to a part of the road, where it descends into a deep
ravine, from which it rises into a broad and level height. It was that
of Katova, and the same field of battle, where, three months before, in
their triumphant march, they had beat Newerowskoi, and saluted Napoleon
with the cannon which they had taken the day before from his enemies.
They said they recollected the situation, notwithstanding the different
appearance given to it by the snow.

Mortier's officers here exclaimed, "that it was in that very position
that the Emperor and they had waited for them on the 17th, fighting all
the time." Very well, replied those of Ney, Kutusoff, or rather
Miloradowitch, occupied Napoleon's place, for the old Russian general
had not yet quitted Dobroe.

Their disbanded men were already retrograding, pointing to the snowy
plains completely black with the enemy's troops, when a Russian,
detaching himself from their army, descended the hill; he presented
himself alone to their marshal, and either from an affectation of
extreme politeness, respect for the misfortune of their leader, or dread
of the effects of his despair, covered with honied words the summons to
surrender.

It was Kutusoff who had sent him. "That field-marshal would not have
presumed to make so cruel a proposal to so great a general, to a warrior
so renowned, if there remained a single chance of safety for him. But
there were eighty thousand Russians before and around him, and if he had
any doubt of it, Kutusoff offered to let him send a person to go through
his ranks, and count his forces."

The Russian had not finished his speech, when suddenly forty discharges
of grape shot, proceeding from the right of his army, and cutting our
ranks to pieces, struck him with amazement, and interrupted what he had
to say. At the same moment a French officer darted forward, seized, and
was about to kill him as a traitor, when Ney, checking this fury, called
to him angrily, "A marshal never surrenders; there is no parleying under
an enemy's fire; you are my prisoner." The unfortunate officer was
disarmed, and placed in a situation of exposure to the fire of his own
army. He was not released until we reached Kowno, after twenty-six days
captivity, sharing all our miseries, at liberty to escape, but
restrained by his parole.

At the same time the enemy's fire became still hotter, and, as they
said, all the hills, which but an instant before looked cold and silent,
became like so many volcanoes in eruption, but that Ney became still
more elevated at it: then with a burst of enthusiasm that seemed to
return every time they had occasion to mention his name in their
narrative, they added, that in the midst of all this fire that ardent
man seemed to breathe an element exclusively his own.

Kutusoff had not deceived him. On the one side, there were eighty
thousand men in complete ranks, full, deep, well-fed, and in double
lines, a numerous cavalry, an immense artillery occupying a formidable
position, in short, every thing, and fortune to boot, which alone is
equal to all the rest. On the other side, five thousand soldiers, a
straggling and dismembered column, a wavering and languishing march,
arms defective and dirty, the greatest part mute and tottering in
enfeebled hands.

And yet the French leader had no thought of yielding, nor even of dying,
but of penetrating and cutting his way through the enemy; and that
without the least idea that he was attempting a sublime effort. Alone,
and looking no where for support, while all were supported by him, he
followed the impulse of a strong natural temperament, and the pride of a
conqueror, whom the habit of gaining improbable victories had impressed
with the belief that every thing was possible.

But what most astonished them, was, that they had been all so docile;
for all had shown themselves worthy of him, and they added, that it was
there they clearly saw that it is not merely great obstinacy, great
designs, or great temerity which constitute the great man, but
principally the power of influencing and supporting others.

Ricard and his fifteen hundred soldiers were in front. Ney impelled them
against the enemy, and prepared the rest of his army to follow them.
That division descended with the road into the ravine, but in ascending,
was driven back into it, overwhelmed by the first Russian line.

The marshal, without being intimidated, or allowing others to be so,
collected the survivors, placed them in reserve, and proceeded forward
in their place; Ledru, Razont, and Marchand seconded him. He ordered
four hundred Illyrians to take the enemy on their left flank, and with
three thousand men, he himself mounted in front to the assault. He made
no harangue; he marched at their head, setting the example, which, in a
hero, is the most eloquent of all oratorical movements, and the most
imperious of all orders. All followed him. They attacked, penetrated,
and overturned the first Russian line, and without halting were
precipitating themselves upon the second; but before they could reach
it, a volley of artillery and grape shot poured down upon them. In an
instant Ney saw all his generals wounded, the greatest part of his
soldiers killed; their ranks were empty, their shapeless column whirled
round, tottered, fell back, and drew him along with it.

Ney found that he had attempted an impossibility, and he waited until
the flight of his men had once more placed the ravine between them and
the enemy, that ravine which was now his sole resource; there, equally
hopeless and fearless, he halted and rallied them. He drew up two
thousand men against eighty thousand; he returned the fire of two
hundred cannon with six pieces, and made fortune blush that she should
ever betray such courage.

She it was, doubtless, who then struck Kutusoff with the palsy of
inertness. To their infinite surprise, they saw this Russian Fabius
running into extremes like all imitators, persisting in what he called
his humanity and prudence, remaining upon his heights with his pompous
virtues, without allowing himself, or daring to conquer, as if he was
astonished at his own superiority. Seeing that Napoleon had been
conquered by his rashness, he pushed his horror of that fault to the
very extreme of the opposite vice.

It required, however, but a transport of indignation in any one of the
Russian corps to have completely extinguished them; but all were afraid
to make a decisive movement; they remained clinging to their soil with
the immobility of slaves, as if they had no boldness but in their
watchword, or energy but in their obedience. This discipline, which
formed their glory in _their_ retreat, was their disgrace in _ours_.

They were for a long time uncertain, not knowing which enemy they were
fighting with; for they had imagined that Ney had retreated from
Smolensk by the right bank of the Dnieper; they were mistaken, as is
frequently the case, from supposing that their enemy had done what he
ought to have done.

At the same time, the Illyrians had returned completely in disorder;
they had had a most singular adventure. In their advance to the left
flank of the enemy's position, these four hundred men had met with five
thousand Russians returning from a partial engagement, with a French
eagle, and several of our soldiers prisoners.

These two hostile troops, the one returning to its position, the other
going to attack it, advanced in the same direction, side by side,
measuring each other with their eyes, but neither of them venturing to
commence the engagement. They marched so close to each other, that from
the middle of the Russian ranks the French prisoners stretched out their
arms towards their friends, conjuring them to come and deliver them. The
latter called out to them to come to them, and they would receive and
defend them; but no one moved on either side. Just then Ney was
overthrown, and they retreated along with him.

Kutusoff, however, relying more on his artillery than his soldiers,
sought only to conquer at a distance. His fire so completely commanded
all the ground occupied by the French, that the same bullet which
prostrated a man in the first rank proceeded to deal destruction in the
last of the train of carriages, among the women who had fled from
Moscow.

Under this murderous hail, Ney's soldiers remained astonished,
motionless, looking at their chief, waiting his decision to be satisfied
that they were lost, hoping they knew not why, or rather, according to
the remark of one of their officers, because in the midst of this
extreme peril they saw his spirit calm and tranquil, like any thing in
its place. His countenance became silent and devout; he was watching the
enemy's army, which, becoming more suspicious since the successful
artifice of Prince Eugene, extended itself to a great distance on his
flanks, in order to shut him out from all means of preservation.

The approach of night began to render objects indistinct; winter, which
in that sole point was favourable to our retreat, brought it on quickly.
Ney had been waiting for it, but the advantage he took of the respite
was to order his men to return to Smolensk. They all said that at these
words they remained frozen with astonishment. Even his aide-de-camp
could not believe his ears; he remained silent like one who did not
understand what he heard, and looked at his general with amazement. But
the marshal repeated the same order; in his brief and imperious tone,
they recognized a resolution taken, a resource discovered, that
self-confidence which inspires others with the same quality, and a
spirit which commands his position, however strong that may be. They
immediately obeyed, and without hesitation turned their backs on their
own army, on Napoleon, and on France! They returned once more into that
fatal Russia. Their retrograde march lasted an hour; they passed again
over the field of battle marked by the remains of the army of Italy;
there they halted, and their marshal, who had remained alone in the
rear-guard, then rejoined them.

Their eyes followed his every movement. What was he going to do; and
whatever might be his plan, whither would he direct his steps, without a
guide, in an unknown country? But he, with his warlike instinct, halted
on the edge of a ravine of such depth, as to make it probable that a
rivulet ran through it. He made them clear away the snow and break the
ice; then consulting his map, he exclaimed "That this was one of the
streams which flowed into the Dnieper! this must be our guide, and we
must follow it; that it would lead us to that river, which we must
cross, and that on the other side we should be safe!" He immediately
proceeded in that direction.

However at a little distance from the high road which he had abandoned,
he again halted in a village, the name of which they knew not, but
believed that it was either Fomina, or Danikowa. There he rallied his
troops, and made them light their fires, as if he intended to take up
his quarters in it for the night. Some Cossacks who followed him took it
for granted, and no doubt sent immediately to apprise Kutusoff of the
spot where, next day, a French marshal would surrender his arms to him;
for shortly after the noise of their cannon was heard.

Ney listened: "Is this Davoust at last," he exclaimed, "who has
recollected me?" and he listened a second time. But there were regular
intervals between the firing; it was a salvo. Being then fully satisfied
that the Russian army was triumphing by anticipation over his captivity,
he swore he would give the lie to their joy, and immediately resumed his
march.

At the same time his Poles ransacked the country. A lame peasant was the
only inhabitant they had discovered; this was an unlooked-for piece of
good fortune. He informed them that they were within the distance of a
league from the Dnieper, but that it was not fordable there, and could
not yet be frozen over. "It will be so," was the marshal's remark; but
when it was observed to him that the thaw had just commenced, he added
"that it did not signify, we must pass, as there was no other resource."

At last, about eight o'clock, after passing through a village, the
ravine terminated, and the lame Russian, who walked first, halted and
pointed to the river. They imagined that this must have been between
Syrokorenia and Gusinoe. Ney, and those immediately behind him, ran up
to it. They found the river sufficiently frozen to bear their weight,
the course of the flakes which it bore along to that point, being
counteracted by a sudden turn in its banks, was there suspended; the
winter had completely frozen it over only in that single spot; both
above and below it, its surface was still moveable.

This observation was sufficient to make their first sensation of joy
give way to uneasiness. This hostile river might only offer them a
treacherous appearance. One officer devoted himself for the rest; he
crossed to the other side with great difficulty. He returned and
reported, that the men, and perhaps some of the horses might pass over,
but that the rest must be abandoned, and there was no time to lose, as
the ice was beginning to give way in consequence of the thaw.

But in this nocturnal and silent march across fields, of a column
composed of weakened and wounded men, and women with their children,
they had been unable to keep close enough, to prevent their extending,
separating, and losing the traces of each other in the darkness. Ney
perceived that only a part of his people had come up; nevertheless, he
might have always surmounted the obstacle, thereby secured his own
safety, and waited on the other side. The idea never once entered his
mind; some one proposed it to him, but he rejected it instantly. He
allowed three hours for the rallying; and without suffering himself to
be agitated by impatience, or the danger of waiting so long, he wrapped
himself up in his cloak, and passed these three dangerous hours in a
profound sleep on the bank of the river. So much did he possess of the
temperament of great men, a strong mind in a robust body, and that
vigorous health, without which no man can ever expect to be a hero.




CHAP. IX.


At last, about midnight, the passage began; but the first persons who
ventured on the ice, called out that the ice was bending under them,
that it was sinking, that they were up to their knees in water;
immediately after which that frail support was heard splitting with
frightful cracks, which were prolonged in the distance, as in the
breaking up of a frost. All halted in consternation.

Ney ordered them to pass only one at a time; they proceeded with
caution, not knowing sometimes in the darkness if they were putting
their feet on the flakes or into a chasm; for there were places where
they were obliged to clear large crevices, and jump from one piece of
ice to another, at the risk of falling between them and disappearing for
ever. The first hesitated, but those who were behind kept calling to
them to make haste.

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