The Retreat Of Napoleon's Grand Army
In the spring of 1812 Napoleon reached the frontiers of Russia at the
head of the greatest army that had ever been under his command, it
embracing half a million of men. It was not an army of Frenchmen,
however, since much more than half the total force was made up of
Germans and soldiers of other nationalities. In addition to the soldiery
was a multitude of non-combatants and other incumbrances, which
Napoleon, deviat
ng from his usual custom, allowed to follow the troops.
These were made up of useless aids to the pomp and luxury of the emperor
and his officers, and an incredible number of private vehicles, women,
servants, and others, who served but to create confusion, and to consume
the army stores, of which provision had been made for only a short
campaign.
Thus, dragging its slow length along, the army, on June 24, 1812,
crossed the Niemen River and entered upon Russian soil. From emperor to
private, all were inspired with exaggerated hopes of victory, and looked
soon to see the mighty empire of the north prostrate before the genius
of all-conquering France. Had the vision of that army, as it was to
recross the Niemen within six months, risen upon their minds, it would
have been dismissed as a nightmare of false and monstrous mien.
Onward into Russia wound the vast and hopeful mass, without a battle and
without sight of a foe. The Russians were retreating and drawing their
foes deeper and deeper into the heart of their desolate land. Battles
were not necessary; the country itself fought for Russia. Food was not
to be had from the land, which was devastated in their track. Burning
cities and villages lit up their path. The carriages and wagons, even
many of the cannon, had to be left behind. The forced marches which
Napoleon made in the hope of overtaking the Russians forced him to
abandon much of his supplies, while men and horses sank from fatigue and
hunger. The decaying carcasses of ten thousand horses already poisoned
the air.
At length Moscow was approached. Here the Russian leaders were forced by
the sentiment of the army and the people to strike one blow in defence
of their ancient capital. A desperate encounter took place at Borodino,
two days' march from the city, in which Napoleon triumphed, but at a
fearful price. Forty thousand men had fallen, of whom the wounded nearly
all died through want and neglect. When Moscow was reached, it proved to
be deserted. Napoleon had won the empty shell of a city, and was as far
as ever from the conquest of Russia.
It is not our purpose here to give the startling story of the burning of
Moscow, the sacrifice of a city to the god of war. Though this is one of
the most thrilling events in the history of Russia, it has already been
told in this series.[1] We are concerned at present solely with the
retreat of the grand army from the ashes of the Muscovite capital, the
most dreadful retreat in the annals of war.
Napoleon lingered amid the ruins of the ancient city until winter was
near at hand, hoping still that the emperor Alexander would sue for
peace. No suit came. He offered terms himself, and they were not even
honored with a reply. A deeply disappointed man, the autocrat of Europe
marched out of Moscow on October 19 and began his frightful homeward
march. He had waited much too long. The Russian armies, largely
increased in numbers, shut him out from every path but the wasted one by
which he had come, a highway marked by the ashes of burnt towns and the
decaying corpses of men and animals.
On November 6, winter suddenly set in. The supplies had largely been
consumed, the land was empty of food, famine alternated with cold to
crush the retreating host, and death in frightful forms hovered over
their path. The horses, half fed and worn out, died by thousands. Most
of the cavalry had to go afoot; the booty brought from Moscow was
abandoned as valueless; even much of the artillery was left behind. The
cold grew more intense. A deep snow covered the plain, through whose
white peril they had to drag their weary feet. Arms were flung away as
useless weights, flight was the only thought, and but a tithe of the
army remained in condition to defend the rest.
The retreat of the grand army became one of incredible distress and
suffering. Over the seemingly endless Russian steppes, from whose
snow-clad level only rose here and there the ruins of a deserted
village, the freezing and starving soldiers made their miserable way.
Wan, hollow-eyed, gaunt, clad in garments through which the biting cold
pierced their flesh, they dragged wearily onward, fighting with one
another for the flesh of a dead horse, ready to commit murder for the
shadow of food, and finally sinking in death in the snows of that
interminable plain. Each morning, some of those who had stretched their
limbs round the bivouac fires failed to rise. The victims of the night
were often revealed only by the small mounds of fallen snow which had
buried them as they slept.
That this picture may not be thought overdrawn, we shall relate an
anecdote told of Prince Emilius of Darmstadt. He had fallen asleep in
the snow, and in order to protect him from the keen north wind four of
his Hessian dragoons screened him during the night with their cloaks.
The prince arose from his cold couch in the morning to find his faithful
guardians still in the position they had occupied during the
night,--frozen to death.
Maddened with famine and frost, men were seen to spring, with wildly
exulting cries, into the flames of burning houses. Of those that fell
into the hands of the Russian boors, many were stripped of their
clothing and chased to death through the snow. Smolensk, which the army
had passed in its glory, it now reached in its gloom. The city was
deserted and half burned. Most of the cannon had been abandoned, food
and ammunition were lacking, and no halt was possible. The despairing
army pushed on.
Death followed the fugitives in other forms than those of frost and
hunger. The Russians, who had avoided the army in its advance, harassed
it continually in its retreat. From all directions Russian troops
marched upon the worn-out fugitives, grimly determined that not a man of
them should leave Russia if they could prevent. The intrepid Ney, with
the men still capable of fight, formed the rear-guard, and kept at bay
their foes. This service was one of imminent peril. Cut off at Smolensk
from the main body, only Ney's vigilance saved his men from destruction.
During the night he led them rapidly along the banks of the Dnieper,
repulsing the Russian corps that sought to cut off his retreat, and
joined the army again.
The Beresina at length was reached. This river must be crossed. But the
frightful chill, which hitherto had pursued the fleeing host, now
inopportunely decreased, a thaw broke the frozen surface of the stream,
and the fugitives gazed with horror on masses of floating ice where they
had dreamed of a solid pathway for their feet. The slippery state of the
banks added to the difficulty, while on the opposite side a Russian army
commanded the passage with its artillery, and in the rear the roar of
cannon signalled the approach of another army. All seemed lost, and
only the good fortune which had so often befriended him now saved
Napoleon and his host.
For at this critical moment a fresh army corps, which had been left
behind in his advance, came to the emperor's aid, and the Russian
general who disputed the passage, deceived by the French movements,
withdrew to another point on the stream. Taking instant advantage of the
opportunity, Napoleon threw two bridges across the river, over which the
able-bodied men of the army safely made their way.
After them came the vast host of non-combatants that formed the rear,
choking the bridges with their multitude. As they struggled to cross,
the pursuing Russian army appeared and opened with artillery upon the
helpless mass, ploughing long red lanes of carnage through its midst.
One bridge broke down, and all rushed to the other. Multitudes were
forced into the stream, while the Russian cannon played remorselessly
upon the struggling and drowning mass. For two days the passage had
continued, and on the morning of the third a considerable number of sick
and wounded soldiers, sutlers, women, and children still remained
behind, when word reached them that the bridges were to be burned. A
fearful rush now took place. Some succeeded in crossing, but the fire
ran rapidly along the timbers, and the despairing multitude leaped into
the icy river or sought to plunge through the mounting flames. When the
ice thawed in the spring twelve thousand dead bodies were found on the
shores of the stream. Sixteen thousand of the fugitives remained
prisoners in Russian hands.
This day of disaster was the climax of the frightful retreat. But as
the army pressed onward the temperature again fell, until it reached
twenty-seven degrees below zero, and the old story of "frozen to death"
was resumed. Napoleon, fearing to be taken prisoner in Germany if the
truth should become known, left his army on December 5, and hurried
towards Paris with all speed, leaving the news of the disaster behind in
his flight. Wilna was soon after reached by the army, but could not be
held by the exhausted troops, and, with its crowded magazines and the
wealth in its treasury, fell into the hands of the Russians.
During this season of disaster the Austrian and Prussian commanders left
behind to guard the route contrived to spare their troops.
Schwarzenberg, the Austrian commander, retreated towards Warsaw and left
the Russian armies free to act against the French. The Prussians, who
had been engaged in the siege of Riga, might have covered the fleeing
host; but York, their commander, entered into a truce with the Russians
and remained stationary. They had been forced to join the French, and
took the first opportunity to abandon their hated allies.
A place of safety was at length reached, but the grand army was
represented by a miserable fragment of its mighty host. Of the
half-million who crossed the Russian frontier, but eighty thousand
returned. Of those who had reached Moscow, the meagre remnant numbered
scarcely twenty thousand in all.