THE LAST CAMP-FIRES IN RUSSIA.
At Malodeczno, Napoleon suddenly determined to leave the wretched remnant of his army, and, accompanied by a few faithful officers, to return to France. Murat was left to command the army, and the greatest hopes of speedy relief and fresh triumph were excited by the Emperor before he departed. He journeyed very rapidly, and reached Paris on the 19th of December, two days after his memorable twenty-ninth bulletin hadtold France the disasters of the campaign. But the remains of the grand army—what was their fate?
On the 6th of December, the very day after Napoleon’s departure, the sky exhibited a more dreadful appearance. Icy particles were seen floating in the air, and the birds fell stiff and frozen to the earth. The atmosphere was motionless and silent; it seemed as if every thing in nature which possessed life and movement, even the wind itself, had been seized, chained, and, as it were, congealed by a universal death. Not a word or a murmur was then heard; there was nothing but the gloomy silence of despair, and the tears which proclaimed it.
“We flitted along,” says Segur, “in the midst of this empire of death like doomed spirits. The dull and monotonous sound of our steps, the crackling of the frost and the feeble groans of the dying, were the only interruptions to this doleful and universal silence. Anger and imprecations there were none, nor any thing which indicated a remnant of warmth; scarcely was strength enough left to utter a prayer; and most of them even fell without complaining, either from weakness or resignation, or because people complain only when they look for kindness, and fancy they are pitied.
“Such of our soldiers as had hitherto been the most persevering here lost heart entirely. Some times the snow sunk beneath their feet, but more frequently, its glassy surface refusing them support, they slipped at every step, and tottered along from one fall to another. It seemed as though this hostile soil were leagued against them; that it treacherously escaped from undertheir efforts; that it was constantly leading them into snares, as if to embarrass and retard their march, and to deliver them up to the Russians in pursuit of them, or to their terrible climate.”
And, in truth, whenever, for a moment, they halted from exhaustion, the winter, laying his icy hand upon them, was ready to seize his victims. In vain did these unhappy creatures, feeling themselves benumbed, raise themselves up, and, already deprived of the power of speech, and plunged into a stupor, proceed a few steps like automatons; their blood froze in their veins, like water in the current of rivulets, congealing the heart, and then flying back to the head; and these dying men staggered as if they had been intoxicated. From their eyes, reddened and inflamed by the constant glare of the snow, by the want of sleep, and the smoke of the bivouacs, there flowed real tears of blood; their bosoms heaved with deep and heavy sighs; they looked towards heaven and on the earth, with an eye dismayed, fixed, and wild, as expressive of their farewell, and, it might be, of their reproaches against the barbarous nature which was tormenting them. It was not long before they fell upon their knees, and then upon their hands; their heads still slowly moved for a few minutes alternately to the right and left, and from their open mouth some sounds of agony escaped; at last, in its turn, it fell upon the snow, which it reddened with livid blood, and their sufferings were at an end.
Their comrades passed by them without moving a step out of their way, that they might not, by theslightest curve, prolong their journey, and without even turning their heads; for their beards and hair were so stiffened with ice that every movement was painful. Nor did they even pity them; for, in fact, what had they lost by dying? who had they left behind them? They suffered so much, they were still so far from France, so much divested of all feelings of country by the surrounding prospect and by misery, that every dear illusion was broken, and hope almost destroyed. The greater number, therefore, had become careless of dying, from necessity, from the habit of seeing death constantly around them, and from fashion, sometimes even treating it with contempt; but more frequently, on seeing these unfortunates stretched upon the snow, and instantly stiffened, contenting themselves with the thought that they had no more wants, that they were at rest, that their sufferings were over. And, indeed, death, in a situation quiet, certain, and uniform, may be felt as a strange event, a frightful contrast, a terrible change; but in this tumult, this violent and ceaseless movement of a life of action, danger, and suffering, it appeared nothing more than a transition, a slight alteration, an additional removal, which excited little alarm.
Such were the last days of the grand army: its last nights were still more frightful. Those whom they surprised marching together, far from every habitation, halted on the borders of the woods: there they lighted their fires, before which they remained the whole night, erect and motionless, like spectres. They seemed as if they could not possibly have enough of the heat;they kept so close to it as to burn their clothes, as well as the frozen parts of their body, which the fire decomposed. The most dreadful pain then compelled them to stretch themselves on the ground, and the next day they attempted in vain to rise.
In the meantime, such as the winter had almost wholly spared, and who still retained some portion of courage, prepared their melancholy meal. It had consisted, ever since they left Smolensk, of some slices of horseflesh broiled, and a little rye meal made into a sort of gruel with snow water, or kneaded into paste, which they seasoned, for want of salt, with the powder of their cartridges.
The sight of these fires was constantly attracting fresh spectres, who were driven back by the first comers. Many of them, destitute of the means and the strength necessary to cut down the lofty fir trees, made vain attempts to set fire to them as they were standing; but death speedily surprised them, and they might be seen in every sort of attitude, stiff and lifeless about their trunks.
Under the vast pent-houses erected by the sides of the high road in some parts of the way, scenes of still greater horror were witnessed. Officers and soldiers all rushed precipitately into them, and crowded together in heaps. There, like so many cattle, they pressed upon each other around the fires, and as the living could not remove the dead from the circle, they laid themselves down upon them, there to expire in their turn, and serve as a bed of death to some fresh victims. In a short time additional crowds of stragglers presentedthemselves, and, being unable to penetrate into these asylums of suffering, they completely besieged them.
It frequently happened that they demolished their walls, which were formed of dry wood, in order to feed their fires; at other times, repulsed and disheartened, they were contented to use them as shelters to their bivouacs, the flames of which very soon communicated to the buildings, and the soldiers who were within them, already half dead with the cold, perished in the conflagration.
At Youpranoui, the same village where the Emperor only missed by an hour being taken by the Russian partisan Seslawin, the soldiers burned the houses as they stood, merely to warm themselves for a few minutes. The light of these fires attracted some of those miserable wretches, whom the excessive severity of the cold and their sufferings had rendered delirious; they ran to them like madmen, they threw themselves into these furnaces, where they perished in horrible convulsions. Their famished companions looked on unmoved; and there were some who drew out these bodies, blackened and broiled by the flames, and, shocking to relate, they ventured to pollute their mouths with this dreadful food!
This was the same army which had been formed from the most civilized nation of Europe; that army, formerly so brilliant, which was victorious over men to its last moment, and whose name still reigned in so many conquered capitals. Its strongest and bravest warriors, who had recently been proudly traversing so many scenes of their victories, had lost their noble bearing;covered with rags, their feet naked and torn, and supporting themselves with branches of fir, they dragged themselves painfully along; and the strength and perseverance which they had hitherto put forth in order to conquer, they now made use of only to flee.
In this state of physical and moral distress, the remnant of the grand army reached the city of Wilna, the Mecca of their hopes. There food and shelter were obtained; but the Russians soon came up and told, in the thunder of their artillery, that Wilna was not a place of rest for the French. They were driven from the town, and Ney, with a handful of men, could scarcely protect their flight. Who can ever do sufficient honor to the lion-hearted marshal? This was the order of retreat which he adopted:
Every day, at five o’clock in the evening, he took his position, stopped the Russians, allowed his soldiers to eat and take some rest, and resumed his march at ten o’clock. During the whole of the night, he pushed the mass of the stragglers before him, by dint of cries, of entreaties, and of blows. At daybreak, which was about seven o’clock, he halted, again took position, and rested under arms and on guard until ten o’clock; the enemy then usually made his appearance, and he was compelled to fight until the evening, gaining as much ground in the rear as possible. This depended at first on the general order of march, and at a later period upon circumstances.
For a long time this rear guard did not consist of more than two thousand, then of one thousand, afterward of about five hundred, and finally it was reducedto sixty men; and yet Berthier, either designedly, or from mere routine, made no change in his instructions. These were always addressed to the commander of a corps of thirty-five thousand men; in them he coolly detailed all the different positions which were to be taken up and guarded until the next day, by divisions and regiments which no longer existed. And every night, when pressed by Ney’s urgent warnings, he was obliged to go and awake the King of Naples, and compel him to resume his march, he testified the same astonishment.
In this manner did Ney support the retreat from Wiazma to Eve, and a few wersts beyond it. He attempted in vain to rally a few of them; and he who had hitherto been almost the only one whose commands had been obeyed, was now compelled to follow it.
He arrived along with it at Kowno, which was the last town of the Prussian empire. Finally, on the 13th of December, after marching forty-six days under the most terrible sufferings, they once more came in sight of a friendly country. Instantly, without halting or looking behind them, the greater part plunged into, and dispersed themselves in, the forests of Prussian Poland. Some there were, however, who, on their arrival on the friendly bank of the Niemen, turned round, and there, when they cast a last look on that land of horrors from which they were escaping, and found themselves on the same spot whence, five months before, their countless legions had taken their victorious flight, tears gushed from their eyes, and they broke out into exclamations of the most poignant sorrow.
Two kings, one prince, eight marshals, followed by a few officers, generals on foot, dispersed, and without attendants; finally, a few hundred men of the old guard, still armed—these were its remains—these alone represented the grand army.
The camp-fires of the invaders in Russia were at an end. From Moscow to the Niemen they could be traced in circles of death. Every bivouac had its throng of victims, conquered more by the climate than the troops of Russia. Like a vast stream, which gradually disappears in the ground as it flows, the grand army of four hundred thousand men had vanished amid the snows of Russia. Upon the banks of the Niemen, it lived only in Marshal Ney.
THE CAMP-FIRE AT LUTZEN.
We have seen Napoleon, with the wreck of an army, a fugitive amid the frozen plains of Russia. A few months have scarcely elapsed. It is April, 1813; and the Emperor of the French has taken the field at the head of three hundred and fifty thousand men, to beat back the enemies who havearisen against him in the hour of his adversity. Once more, in spite of the retreat from Moscow, Europe trembles at his name.
The allies have posted themselves between Leipsic and Dresden. Napoleon, with a hundred and fifteen thousand men under his immediate command, advances to the attack with his customary confidence and decision. Skirmishes took place at Weissenfels and Posen on the 29th of April, and the first of May. On the last day, the French approached the town of Lutzen, where Gustavus Adolphus had gained his final victory. The foremost column came upon the advanced guard of the allies, posted on the heights of Posen, and commanding a defile through which it was necessary to pass. Marshal Bessieres, the commander of the Old Guard—the companion of Napoleon in so much glory—dashed forward to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, when a cannon ball struck one of his aids, and killed him upon the spot. The marshal reined in his fiery charger.
“Inter that brave man,” said he, coolly; but scarcely had the words passed his lips, when he was struck by a spent cannon ball, and he fell from his horse, a corpse. A white sheet was thrown over him to conceal his features from the soldiers whom he had so often led to glory. The body was conveyed to a neighboring house, and there it lay during the battle of the next day, when the Guard looked in vain for the manly form of their commander. Napoleon deeply regretted Bessieres. He ordered the body to be embalmed and sent to the Hotel des Invalides, whence he designed tohave it interred with great honors; but his fall prevented the execution of his intention.
On the night of the first of May, the army under Napoleon encamped in order of battle, within sight of the camp-fires of the allies, near Lutzen. The centre was at a village called Kaya, under the command of Ney. It consisted of the young conscripts, supported by the Imperial Guard, with its new parks of artillery drawn up before the well known town of Lutzen. Marmont commanded the right. The left reached from Kaya to the Elster. The silence of night settled down upon the camp of the French. But the allies, encouraged by the presence of the Czar and the King of Prussia, had determined to take the offensive—a very unusual course for any enemy in the face of Napoleon. While the French were reposing around their camp-fires, the Prussian general, Blucher, crossed the Elster. At daybreak, before Napoleon was stirring in his quarters, the French, in the centre, were startled by the furious assault of the enemy, who pushed their way through all obstacles, and were on the point of gaining possession of Kaya. The crisis was imminent. Napoleon, roused from slumber by intelligence of the attack, hurried in person to bring up the Guard to sustain the centre, while he moved forward the two wings, commanded by Macdonald and Bertrand, and supported by the tremendous batteries, so as to outflank and surround the main body of the allies. Thus began the battle of Lutzen. The struggle was fierce, and it endured for several hours. The village of Kaya was taken and retaken a number of times, but at length itremained in the hands of General Gerard. The students who were in the ranks of the allies, fought with desperate courage, and fell in great numbers. Schavnhort, a noted Prussian general, was killed, and Blucher was wounded. The artillery of the French carried immense destruction into the ranks of the enemy, and, at length, fearing from Napoleon’s manœuvres, that they would be taken in flank, they beat a retreat, which they effected safely, but with much difficulty. They left twenty thousand dead upon the field. The loss of the French was not more than ten or twelve thousand men. The victory was not decisive, but it was glorious, and once more Napoleon’s star shone with brilliant lustre, free from the shadow of defeat.
The French army was ordered to encamp on the field of battle in squares, by divisions, in order to provide against any sudden return of the enemy. Couriers were immediately sent off with the news of the victory to every friendly court in Europe. That night there was rejoicing around the camp-fires of the French. Napoleon once more received the congratulations of his generals upon a victory, and he began to dream of a peaceful occupation of his imperial throne.
THE CAMP-FIRE AT BAUTZEN.
After the victory of Lutzen, Napoleon proposed a cessation of hostilities. But those allies who continually accused him of being always for war, rejected his conciliatory proposals, and resolved to try the sword again. They entrenched their camps at Bautzen, and far from attempting the offensive, whichthey had found so perilous, they anxiously awaited reinforcements. In the meantime, Napoleon had entered Dresden in triumph. There he remained a week. Finding that all attempts at conciliation were fruitless, he then determined to prosecute the campaign vigorously. On the 18th of May, he commenced the march upon Bautzen, and on the 21st, he reached the position of the allies. They were posted in the rear of Bautzen, with the river Spree in front; a chain of wooded hills and various fortified eminences to the right and left were occupied.
The action at this place commenced by the movement of a column of Italians, who were intended to turn the Prussian flank. This body, however, was attacked and dispersed before Marshal Ney could support them. The remainder of the day was spent by the French in passing the Spree, which was effected without molestation. The Emperor bivouacked in the town of Bautzen for the night. While the camp-fires of the French and their adversaries blazed near each other beyond the Spree, Napoleon called a council of his principal marshals, and after much deliberation, it was resolved to turn the camp of the enemy, instead of storming it. Day had just peeped in the east, and the fires had died out, when the dauntless Ney made a wide circuit to the right of the Russians, while Oudinot engaged their left, and Soult and the Emperor attacked the centre. The battle was fiercely fought. The Prussians, under the lead of the bold and pertinacious Blucher, kept their ground for four hours against the repeated charges of Soult. The slaughter was dreadful on both sides. At length,the Prussians were driven back, and the French were left in undisputed possession of the heights. Ney had now gained the rear of the allies, and he poured in murderous volleys of shot on their dispirited ranks. Panic stricken at this furious assault, they commenced their retreat, with such celerity as to gain time to rally on the roads leading to Bohemia. As night descended, the French shouted lustily for another victory. And there was revelry around the camp-fires of Napoleon’s army. But the Emperor’s heart was sorely touched.
General Bruyeres, a gallant officer, had been stricken down in the joyous moment of victory, at the head of the Imperial Guard. But it was not for him that the Emperor wept. About seven in the evening, the grand marshal of the palace—the devoted Duroc—he who was dearer to Napoleon than even Lannes or Bessieres—was mortally wounded. He was standing on a slight eminence, and at a considerable distance from the firing, conversing with Marshal Mortier and General Kirgener, all three on foot, when a cannon ball, aimed at the group, ploughed up the ground near Mortier, ripped open Duroc’s abdomen, and killed General Kirgener. The grand marshal was conveyed to a lowly house as the victors encamped for the night. Napoleon was deeply affected when informed of the mournful event. He hastened to Duroc, who still breathed, and exhibited wonderful self-possession. Duroc seized the Emperor’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “All my life,” he said, “has been devoted to your service, and I only regret its loss for the use which it might still have been to you.”
“Duroc,” replied the Emperor, “there is another life. It is there that you will await me, and that we will one day meet.”
“Yes, sire; but that will be in thirty years, when you shall have triumphed over your enemies, and realized the hopes of our country. I have lived an honest man; and have nothing to reproach myself with. I leave a daughter; your majesty will be a father to her.”
Napoleon was deeply affected. He felt that the time was coming when he should need friends like Duroc. He took the right hand of the grand marshal in his own, and remained for a quarter of an hour with his head resting on the left hand of his old comrade, without being able to proffer a word.
Duroc was the first to break the silence. He did so, in order to spare Napoleon any further laceration of mind. “Ah, sire,” said he, “go hence! This spectacle pains you!”
Napoleon paused a moment, and then rose and said:
“Adieu, then, my friend!” and he required to support himself on Marshal Soult and Caulaincourt, in order to regain his tent, where he would receive no person the whole night. He was again victorious. But he had lost his most faithful friends. His enemies were every day increasing in numbers, while he was only growing weaker by the gradual diminution of his forces; but some of the generals, upon whom he was most accustomed to rely, were of doubtful fidelity. Victorious or not, he saw that the struggle was to be continued against fearful odds, and a cloud approached his star.
NAPOLEON AT MONTEREAU.Page 421.
NAPOLEON AT MONTEREAU.Page 421.
NAPOLEON AT MONTEREAU.Page 421.
THE CAMP-FIRE AT MONTEREAU.
A distinguished historian, (Alison,) expresses the opinion that the greatest displays of Napoleon’s genius were made during his first campaign in Italy, and the next to the last in his career, in France. In spite of his triumphs at Lutzen, Bautzen and Leipsic, he was compelled to retreat upon France, into which he was followed by the overwhelming forces ofthe allies. His throne was threatened on all sides. His army was but a handful compared with that of his enemies. Yet by his lightning movements, masterly combinations and indomitable resolution, he gained a succession of dazzling victories, and for a time seemed likely to drive his foes from France. We can only show this astonishing man during one portion of this unparalleled campaign.
It was the 16th of February, 1814. Having conquered the Russians at Montmirail, Napoleon had left the Duke of Ragusa—the Judas of the Emperor—in command of that portion of the army, and flown to the army of the Seine, commanded by the Dukes of Belluno and Reggio. He proceeded to Guignes by way of Crecy and Fontenay.
The inhabitants lined the road with carts, by the help of which the soldiers doubled their distances; and the firing of cannon being heard, the artillery drove on at full speed. An engagement had been obstinately maintained since noon by the Dukes of Belluno and Reggio, in the hope to keep possession of the road by which Napoleon was expected; an hour later the junction of the forces would have been difficult. The arrival of the Emperor restored full confidence to the army of the Seine. That evening he contented himself with checking the allies before Guignes; and the next morning the troops were seasonably reinforced by General Treilhard’s dragoons, who had been detached from the army in Spain. Couriers dispatched to Paris entered the suburbs escorted by crowds of people who had anxiously assembled at Charenton. On the 17th the troopsquitted Guignes and marched forward. The allies instantly knew that Napoleon was returned. General Gerard’s infantry, General Drouet’s artillery, and the cavalry of the army of Spain did wonders. The enemy’s columns were driven back in every direction, and left the road between Mormars and Provins covered with the slain. The Duke of Belluno had orders to carry the bridge of Montereau that same evening; and the imperial guard lit their camp-fires round Nangis, the Emperor sleeping at the castle.
In the course of the evening, one of those lures by which he was too often inveigled arrived in the shape of a demand for a suspension of hostilities, brought by Count Parr from the Austrians. He availed himself of this opportunity of transmitting a letter from the Empress to her father, and of writing one himself. Napoleon at the same time, however, had spirit to write to Caulaincourt to revoke hiscarte blanche, saying it was to save the capital, but the capital was now saved; that it was to avoid a battle, but that the battle had been fought, and that the negotiations must return to the ordinary course. The allies had the assurance to reproach Buonaparte with this, as a receding from his word according to circumstances, when they themselves encroached upon him with every new advantage and every hour, as fast as the drawing aside the veil of hypocrisy would let them.
In the meantime, the Duke of Belluno was encamped at the bridge of Montereau. Early on the morning of the 18th, Napoleon was vexed to hear that the bridge was not yet captured; but that the camp-fires of theduke were burning amidst troops at rest, when great efforts were demanded of them. The Emperor hurried to that point. But the Wurtemberg troops had established themselves there during the night.
Napoleon ordered forward the Bretagne national guard and General Pajol’s cavalry. General Gerard came up in time to support the attack, and Napoleon himself arrived to decide the victory. The troops took possession of the heights of Surville, which command the confluence of the Seine and the Yonne; and batteries were mounted which dealt destruction on the Wurtemberg force in Montereau. Napoleon himself pointed the guns. The enemy’s balls hissed like the wind over the heights of Surville. The troops were fearful lest Napoleon, giving way to the habits of his early life, should expose himself to danger; but he only said, “Come on, my brave fellows, fear nothing; the ball that is to kill me is not yet cast.” The firing redoubled; and under its shelter the Bretagne guards established themselves in the suburbs, while General Pajol carried the bridge by so vigorous a charge of cavalry, that there was not time to blow up a single arch. The Wurtemberg troops, inclosed and cut to pieces in Montereau, vainly summoned the Austrians to their aid. This engagement was one of the most brilliant of the campaign. Their success encouraged the troops, roused the country people, and stimulated the ardor of the young officers; but nothing could revive the spirits of the veteran chiefs. Hope does not return twice to the human breast. Several of the most distinguished officers were deeply depressed.
Napoleon could no longer repress his dissatisfaction. He reproached General Guyot in the presence of the troops, with having suffered the enemy to surprise some pieces of artillery the preceding evening. He ordered General Digeon to be tried by a council of war for a failure of ammunition on the batteries: but afterwards tore the order. He sent the Duke of Belluno, who had suffered the Wurtembergers to surprise the bridge of Montereau before him, permission to retire; and gave the command of his corps to General Gerard, who had greatly exerted himself during the campaign. The Duke repaired to Surville to appeal against this decision; but Napoleon overwhelmed him with reproaches for neglect and reluctance in the discharge of his duties. The conduct of the Duchess was also made a subject of complaint; she was Lady of the Palace, and yet had withdrawn herself from the Empress, who, indeed, seemed to be quite forsaken by the new court. The Duke could not for some time obtain a hearing; the recollections of Italy were appealed to in vain; but, mentioning the fatal wound which his son-in-law had received in consequence of his delay, the Emperor was deeply affected at hearing the name of General Chateau, and sympathized sincerely in the grief of the marshal. The Duke of Belluno resuming confidence, again protested that he would never quit the army. “I can shoulder a musket,” said he: “I have not forgotten the business of a soldier. Victor will range himself in the ranks of the Guard.” These last words completely subdued Napoleon. “Well, Victor,” he said, stretching out his hand to him, “remain with me. I cannot restorethe command of your corps, because I have appointed General Gerard to succeed you; but I give you the command of two divisions of the Guard; and now let every thing be forgotten between us.”
The Emperor was victorious. But victory only served to fill him with false hopes. He triumphed again and again. But it was of no avail. The forces of the enemy were overwhelming; and at the moment when it seemed most likely that he could save France, the disgusting treachery of Marmont and Augereau, two men whom he had raised from the dust, as it were, brought about his ruin. He found, like many other great characters of history, in their hour of adversity, that the men who were most indebted to him were the men upon whom it were most unsafe to rely.
THE CAMP-FIRE AT ARCIS.
While the allies held anxious councils, and were filled with apprehensions at almost every movement of Napoleon in his mighty struggle for his throne, he continued to strike vigorous blows at his thronging enemies. He triumphed at Craonne, and took possession of Rheims. The Austrians, under Schwartzenberg,were compelled to retreat. On the 17th of March, Napoleon broke up his head-quarters at Rheims, and advanced by Epernay to attack the rear of the Austrian army. On the 20th, his advanced guard encountered an Austrian division at Arcis-sur-Aube. The conflict became fierce. The Austrians brought up fresh battalions, supported by cannon; and Napoleon found that instead of attacking a rear guard in retreat, he was in front of the whole of the grand army in its advance on Paris.
This was unfortunate for the Emperor’s calculations. He conceived himself to be acting upon the retreat of the allies, and expected only to find a rear guard at Arcis; he was even talking jocularly of making his father-in-law prisoner during his retreat. If, contrary to his expectation, he should find the enemy, or any considerable part of them, still upon the Aube, it was, from all he had heard, to be supposed his appearance would precipitate their retreat towards the frontier. It has also been asserted, that he expected Marshal Macdonald to make a corresponding advance from the banks of the Seine to those of the Aube; but the orders had been received too late to admit of the necessary space being traversed so as to arrive on the morning of the day of battle.
Napoleon easily drove before him such bodies of light cavalry, and sharp-shooters, as had been left by the allies, rather for the purpose of reconnoitring than of making any serious opposition. He crossed the Aube at Plancey, and moved upwards, along the left bank of the river, with Ney’s corps, and his whole cavalry, whilethe infantry of the guard advanced upon the right; his army being thus, according to the French military phrase,a-cheval, upon the Aube. The town of Arcis had been evacuated by the allies upon his approach, and was occupied by the French on the morning of the 20th March. That town forms the outlet of a sort of defile, where a succession of narrow bridges cross a number of drains, brooks, and streamlets, the feeders of the river Aube, and a bridge in the town crosses the river itself. On the other side of Arcis is a plain, in which some few squadrons of cavalry, resembling a reconnoitring party, were observed manœuvring.
Behind these horses, at a place called Clermont, the Prince Royal of Wurtemberg, whose name has been so often honorably mentioned, was posted with his division, while the elite of the allied army was drawn up on a chain of heights still farther in the rear, called Mesnil la Comptesse. But these corps were not apparent to the vanguard of Napoleon’s army. The French cavalry had orders to attack the light troops of the allies; but these were instantly supported by whole regiments, and by cannon, so that the attack was unsuccessful; and the squadrons of the French were repulsed and driven back on Arcis at a moment, when, from the impediments in the town and its environs, the infantry could with difficulty debouch from the town to support them. Napoleon showed, as he always did in extremity, the same heroic courage which he had exhibited at Lodi and Brienne. He drew his sword, threw himself among the broken cavalry, called on them to remember their former victories, and checked the enemy by an impetuouscharge, in which he and his staff officers fought hand to hand with their opponents, so that he was in personal danger from the lance of a Cossack, the thrust of which was averted by his aid-de-camp, Girardin. His Mameluke, Rustan, fought stoutly by his side, and received a gratuity for his bravery. These desperate exertions afforded time for the infantry to debouch from the town. The Imperial Guards came up, and the combat waxed very warm. The superior numbers of the allies rendered them the assailants on all points. A strongly situated village in front, and somewhat to the left of Arcis, called Grand Torcy, had been occupied by the French. This place was repeatedly and desperately attacked by the allies, but the French made good their position. Arcis itself was set on fire by the shells of the assailants; and night alone separated the combatants by inducing the allies to desist from the attack.
The French remained masters of the field, which they had maintained against nearly treble their number. They had not gained a victory, but they had fought one of their most glorious battles, and Napoleon had displayed not only the full blaze of his genius, but had shown the allies that he was still the valorous hero of Arcola. Many of the houses of Arcis were blazing when the wearied heroes kindled their camp-fires along the Aube. Upon the distant heights of Mesnil la Comptesse, the watch-fires of the enemy were to be seen, and the sky was redly illumined as far as the eye could penetrate. Napoleon had retired to his head-quarters, to rest his weary body, but not to sleep. He had but twenty-seven thousand men, and he wasbefore a strong position, occupied by eighty thousand troops. He was busy in examining his maps, when an aid, Girardin, entered and announced the arrival of Marshals Macdonald and Oudinot, and General Gerard, with their detachments. A few moments afterwards, those brave commanders entered. Napoleon received them with much apparent gratification. Others of his generals also arrived, and a council was held to determine upon the course to be pursued. Macdonald was the most influential of the Emperor’s advisers at this time. His great good sense, cool, steady courage, and honest heart, had won upon Napoleon’s favor, and he listened to his counsel with much attention and consideration. In a former part of his career, he had treated Macdonald very unjustly. In his darker hours, he found the marshal’s great worth, and ever afterwards spoke of him in the highest terms.
The character of Macdonald could be read in his broad, Scotch countenance. His expression was honest, penetrating and determined. He was above all meanness. He lacked enthusiasm; but he had a mind that could calmly work in the midst of the most terrible excitement. He never appeared to be ruffled. The tone of his voice was always dry, even, and steady, as if it was out of the power of the ordinary human emotions to gain an influence over him. Napoleon eagerly asked the advice of the renowned marshal, and received a prompt reply—that retreat was necessary; and it would be well if it could be effected in the face of an overwhelming enemy. Oudinot and Gerard concurred in Macdonald’s opinion; indeed, there seemed to be a prevailingidea, that immediate retreat was necessary, and Napoleon acquiesced. But the manner of it was not so easy to determine. The army was in a difficult position. The line of retreat on either side of the Aube was rendered dangerous by the numerous defiles, where an enemy might attack with advantage. Finally, it was decided to retreat on both sides of the Aube, as a method of presenting a smaller mark to an enemy in pursuit, and of hurrying through the dangerous defiles. The council then dissolved into a conversational party, but the spirits of the generals seemed under the shadow of a cloud. There was scarcely one of them who did not apprehend a speedy termination of the fearful struggle in which they were engaged. To all Napoleon’s expressions of his grand designs, for which he had no means, they gave the reply of a shake of the head, or indicated the obstacles. Napoleon could see that their enthusiasm and confidence had been dissipated by the disasters which their glorious efforts had been unable to avert from the French arms. The demeanor of the Emperor was calm and dignified. He was Emperor of France and at the head of an army still. He was even victorious. But there was no lightness in his look or speech.
At daybreak the camp-fires of the army were extinguished, and the order of retreat given. It was a masterly exploit. With his small army, the Emperor retreated through the difficult defiles, in the face of a whole Austrian army; and though pursued and annoyed, sustained but little loss.
But what availed these miracles of generalship? Thestruggle was quickly decided, by irresistible numbers and sickening treachery.
Paris was surrendered by Marmont, while still capable of defence, and the enemy gained possession of Lyons by the same means. All hope was lost, and the Emperor was advised by Macdonald and others of his most faithful friends, to comply with the terms of the allies and abdicate his throne. He resisted as long as there was a shadow of hope, and then obeyed stern necessity. The enemies of France were supreme. The sovereign of her choice was consigned to the little island of Elba, and the detested Bourbons were restored in the person of Louis XVIII.
We will not dwell upon the leave-taking of the Emperor—how he kissed the eagles, and embraced the veterans of Fontainebleau. It is not within our scope. It is enough to know, that such victories as Montereau, Arcis and Montmirail, won in the last hours of his imperial power, sustained the glory of Napoleon’s genius, and proved that no treason, “coming like a blight over the councils of the brave,” could annihilate his title to immortal remembrance.
THE CAMP-FIRE AT WATERLOO.
Napoleon had returned to France. He had landed at Cannes with but a few soldiers as a guard; but he had been swept up to the imperial throne of Paris upon a mighty wave of popular enthusiasm. All Europe had arisen in arms against the choice of the nation. The campaign of the Hundred Days had commenced. At the head of a hundred and twentythousand men, the Emperor had advanced to attack Wellington and Blucher, with two hundred and fifty thousand.
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.Page 434.
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.Page 434.
BATTLE OF WATERLOO.Page 434.
In order to escape from the danger which might result from too great an inferiority of numbers, Napoleon strove, from the commencement of the campaign, to separate the English from the Prussians, and manœuvred actively to throw himself between them. His plan was strikingly successful on the 16th at the battle of Ligny; Blucher, being attacked alone, was completely beaten, and left twenty-five thousand men on the field of battle. But this enormous loss did not materially enfeeble an army which had such masses of soldiers in line, and behind, still more numerous reserves. In the position in which the Emperor found himself, he required a more decisive advantage, a victory which should annihilate the army of Blucher, and allow him to fall upon Wellington next, in order to crush him in his turn. This successive defeat of the English and Prussians had been most skilfully prepared by the orders and instructions he dispatched on all sides. But, we cannot too often repeat it, his destiny was accomplished; and fatal misunderstandings deceived the calculations of his genius. Moreover, he had himself a presentiment that some unforeseen incident would disarrange his combinations, and that fortune had more disasters in store for him. “It is certain that in these circumstances,” he said to his suite, “I had no longer in myself that definitive feeling; there was nothing of former confidence.” His presentiments were too soon realized.
At daybreak on the 17th, Grouchy, at the head ofthirty-four thousand men, was dispatched in pursuit of the enemy, who had fled in two columns by way of Tilly and Gembloux, with orders to proceed to Wavres. About seven in the morning, the Emperor galloped forward with Count Lobau’s cavalry towards Quatre-Bras, which place he expected to find in possession of Ney; the latter, however, had not been able to retrieve his error of the 16th, and remained facing the position of the British, although now occupied only by their rear-guard, which made off as soon as its commander perceived the approach of Lobau’s horsemen. Pursuit was immediately given, Napoleon hoping that he might yet be able to overtake and defeat the English. In consequence of the state of the roads, from the heavy rains, it was near four o’clock before the retreating column reached the plain of Waterloo, and nearly seven before the troops were in position on the rising ground in front of Mount St. Jean.
That night the English bivouacked on the field they were to maintain in the battle of the morrow. Between six and seven, Napoleon reached Planchenois; and perceiving the enemy established in position, fixed his head-quarters at the farm of Cailloux, and posted his followers on the heights around La Belle Alliance. The reinforcements received by the Duke of Wellington during the 16th and 17th, had raised his army to seventy-five thousand men, who were supported by two hundred and fifty pieces of cannon. Napoleon’s forces have been estimated at seventy thousand men, and about two hundred and forty pieces of cannon; it must, however, be borne in mind, that the Duke couldnot depend on the Belgian, Nassau, and Hanoverian troops.
“Never,” says Alison, “was a more melancholy night passed by soldiers than that which followed the halt of the two armies in their respective positions on the night of the 17th of June, 1815.
“The whole of that day had been wet and cloudy; but towards evening the rain fell in torrents, insomuch that, in traversing the road from Quartre-Bras to Waterloo, the soldiers were often ankle deep in water. When the troops arrived at their ground, the passage of the artillery, horse, and wagons over the drenched surface had so completely cut it up, that it was almost every where reduced to a state of mud, interspersed in every hollow with large pools of water. Cheerless and dripping as was the condition of the soldiers, who had to lie down for the night in such a situation, it was preferable to that of those battalions who were stationed in the rye-fields, where the grain was for the most part three or four feet high, and soaking wet from top to bottom. The ground occupied by the French soldiers was not less drenched and uncomfortable. But how melancholy soever may have been their physical situation, not one feeling of despondency pervaded the breasts either of the British or French soldiers. Such was the interest of the moment, the magnitude of the stake at issue, and the intensity of the feelings in either army, that the soldiers were almost insensible to physical suffering. Every man in both armies was aware that the retreat was stopped, and that a decisive battle would be fought on the following day. The greatcontest of two-and-twenty years’ duration was now to be brought to a final issue: retreat after disaster would be difficult, if not impossible, to the British army, through the narrow defile of the forest of Soignies: overthrow was ruin to the French. The two great commanders, who had severally overthrown every antagonist, were now for the first time to be brought into collision; the conqueror of Europe was to measure swords with the deliverer of Spain. Nor were sanguine hopes and the grounds of well-founded confidence wanting to the troops of either army. The French relied with reason on the extraordinary military talents of their chief, on his long and glorious career, and on the unbroken series of triumphs which had carried their standards to every capital in Europe. Nor had recent disasters weakened this undoubting trust, for the men who now stood side by side were almost all veterans tried in a hundred combats: the English prisons had restored the conquerors of Continental Europe to his standard, and for the first time since the Russian retreat, the soldiers of Austerlitz and Wagram were again assembled round his eagles. The British soldiers had not all the same mutual dependence from tried experience, for a large part of them had never seen a shot fired in battle. But they were not on that account the less confident. They relied on the talent and firmness of their chief, who they knew, had never been conquered, and whose resources the veterans in their ranks told them would prove equal to any emergency. They looked back with animated pride to the unbroken career of victory which had attended the British armssince they first landed in Portugal, and anticipated the keystone to their arch of fame from the approaching conflict with Napoleon in person. They were sanguine as to the result; but, come what may, they were resolute not to be conquered. Never were two armies of such fame, under leaders of such renown, and animated by such heroic feelings, brought into contact in modern Europe, and never were interests so momentous at issue in the strife.”
The field of Waterloo, rendered immortal by the battle which was fought on the following day, extends about two miles in length from the old chateau, walled garden, and inclosures of Hougoumont on the right, to the extremity of the hedge of La Haye Sainte on the left. The greatchausseefrom Brussels to Charleroi runs through the centre of the position, which is situated somewhat less than three quarters of a mile to the south of the village of Waterloo, and three hundred yards in front of the farm-house of Mount St. Jean. This road, after passing through the centre of the British line, goes through La Belle Alliance and the hamlet of Rossomme, where Napoleon spent the night. The position occupied by the British army, followed very nearly the crest of a range of gentle eminences, cutting the high road at right angles, two hundred yards behind the farm-house of La Haye Sainte, which adjoins the highway, and formed the centre of the position. An unpaved country road ran along this great summit, forming nearly the line occupied by the British troops, and which proved of great use in the course of the battle. Their position had this great advantage, that theinfantry could rest on the reverse of the crest of the ridge, in a situation in great measure screened from the fire of the French artillery; while their own guns on the crest swept the whole slope, or natural glacis, which descended to the valley in their front. The French army occupied a corresponding line of ridges, nearly parallel, on the opposite side of the valley, stretching on either side of the hamlet of La Belle Alliance. The summit of these ridges afforded a splendid position for the French artillery to fire upon the English guns; but their attacking columns, in descending the one hill and mounting the other, would of necessity he exposed to a very severe cannonade from the opposite batteries. The French army had an open country to retreat over in case of disaster; while the British, if defeated, would in all probability lose their whole artillery in the defiles of the forest of Soignies, although the intricacies of that wood afforded an admirable defensive position for a broken array of foot soldiers. The French right rested on the village of Planchenois, which is of considerable extent, and afforded a very strong defensive position to resist the Prussians, in case they should so far recover from the disaster of the preceding day as to be able to assume offensive operations and menace the extreme French right.
This is an admirable picture of the position and condition of the respective armies which were to decide the fate of Europe. It could not be improved.
The farm-house of Cailloux, in which the Emperor was busy with his maps and plans, and surrounded by his celebrated marshals, was surrounded with the meagrefires which the guard had kindled; but the rain frequently extinguished them and drove many of the veterans to seek the shelter of sheds.
Napoleon displayed all his usual activity and dispatch. He dictated orders to be conveyed to the different commanders of columns with the rapidity of lightning. Every body near him was kept in a state of feverish excitement, except the calm and steady Soult, whom it seemed impossible to move. There, too, was the stalwart Ney, whom the storms of battle could not even scar—ready for any duty, no matter how hopeless the performance. There also was the brave but reckless Jerome, who was destined to earn a high fame on the morrow. Berthier, who had so long been a fixture by the side of Napoleon, was not there, he had deserted the man from whose glory he had borrowed beams. But there was Maret, Bertrand, the steady Drouot, of the Old Guard, Gorgaud and Labedoyere—a galaxy of bravery and talent—such as was wont to surround the Emperor. All were busy noting down instructions, and replying to the swift questions of the tireless man whom they obeyed. Without, the rain was heard dripping incessantly. Drouot let fall an expression of opinion that, in consequence of the deluge, the ground would be impracticable for artillery.
“We shall see, it is not yet morning,” replied the Emperor. Then he leaned his head upon his hand, and thought—perhaps in the way of presentiment of disaster—but no expression of apprehension escaped his lips. Grouchy would keep Blucher in check, and Wellington would be crushed. Fortune might yet befavorable. But the heavens had quenched the last camp-fire of Napoleon.
About ten o’clock at night, Napoleon sent a dispatch to Grouchy, to announce that the Anglo-Belgian army had taken post in advance of the forest of Soignes, with its left resting on the hamlets of La Haye and Ohain, where Wellington seemed determined on the next day to give battle; Grouchy was, therefore, required to detach from his corps, about two hours before daybreak, a division of seven thousand men, and sixteen pieces of artillery, with orders to proceed to St. Lambert; and, after putting themselves in communication with the right of the grand army, to operate on the left of the British.
Meanwhile, the Duke of Wellington being in communication with Blucher, was promised by him that the Prussian army should advance to support the British on the morning of the 18th.
The rain, which had not ceased during the night, cleared off about five o’clock in the morning; and at eight it was reported by the officers who had been sent to inspect the field, that the ground was practicable for artillery. The Emperor instantly mounted his horse, and rode forward towards La Haye Sainte, to reconnoitre the British fine.
By half-past ten o’clock the two armies were arrayed, and impatient for orders to commence the battle. The Emperor proceeded to the heights of Rosomme, where he dismounted to obtain a clear view of the whole field; and there stationed his guard, as a reserve, to act where emergency might require. Meanwhile, the Englishremained silent and steady, waiting the commands of their chief; who, with telescope in hand, stood beneath a tree, near the cross-road, in front of his position, watching the movements of his opponents.
The village clock of Nivelles was striking eleven when the first gun was fired from the French centre. Then followed a tremendous rattle of musketry, as the brave Jerome led the column on the left to the attack on Hougomont, and drove the Nassau troops before him. The chateau and gardens, however, were bravely defended by a division of English guards, who were not to be dislodged. The fight, raged here more or less during the day, till at length the chateau was set on fire by the shells of the French, and it was found necessary to abandon it.
Napoleon, who was anxiously watching the first movement of his troops, was interrupted by an aid-de-camp, sent by Ney, who had been charged to attack the enemy’s centre, arriving at full gallop to announce that every thing was in readiness, and the marshal only waiting the signal to attack. For a moment the Emperor glanced round the field, and perceived in the direction of St. Lambert, a moving cloud advancing on the left of the English: pointing it out to Soult, he asked whether he conceived it to be Grouchy or Blucher? The marshal being in doubt, Generals Domont and Subervie were dispatched with their divisions of light cavalry, with orders to clear the way in the event of its being Grouchy, and if Blucher, to keep him in check.
Ney was then ordered to march to the attack of La Haye Sainte; after taking that post with the bayonet,and leaving a division of infantry, he was to proceed to the farms of Papelotte and La Haye, and place his troops between those of Wellington and Bulow. With his usual promptitude, the Prince of the Moskowa had in a few moments opened a battery of eighty cannon upon the left centre of the English line. The havoc occasioned by this deadly fire was so immense, that Wellington was obliged to draw back his men to the reverse slope of the hill on which they had stood, in order to screen them from its effects. The Count d’Erlon, under cover of the fire, advanced along the Genappe road; but as they ascended the position of La Haye Sainte, the Duke of Wellington directed against them a charge of cavalry, which speedily drove one column back into the hollow.
The English guards were in turn repulsed by a brigade of Milhaud’s cuirassiers, and galloping onwards, attacked the infantry; the horsemen not being able to make an impression on the squares formed for their reception, while they were themselves exposed to an incessant fire of musketry. One of D’Erlon’s unbroken columns pushed forward, meanwhile, beyond La Haye Sainte, upon which it made no attack, and charging one Belgian and three Dutch regiments, drove them from their posts in disorder, and took possession of the heights. Sir Thomas Picton was now sent to dislodge the enemy, and being supported by a brigade of heavy cavalry, the French, after firing a volley, paused, wheeled, and fled in confusion. Many were cut down by the guards; while seven guns, two eagles, and about two thousand prisoners were taken. The British, however,pursued their success too far; and becoming involved among the infantry, were attacked by a body of cuirassiers, in their turn broken, and forced to retire with great loss.