THE Emperor came up with the Prince of Eckmühl’s headquarters at a spot two miles and a half from the Niemen and from Kowno. Day was breaking [June 23, 1812]. He immediately made a reconnaissance of the river banks and the whole terrain. He did not return till evening, when he spent two hours dictating orders. He then took horse again and made a reconnaissance by moonlight, nearer the bank, to decide on a place for the crossing. The whole lot of us were left some way behind, so as not to draw the attention of any Russian scouts who might be on the farther side. The Emperor went up and down the bank, accompanied by General Haxo of the Engineers. Even that morning he had been obliged to wear a Polish soldier’s cloak, in order to attract less attention.
When the reconnaissance was finished he rejoined his staff officers, and once more examined the different points to be occupied by the troops. As he galloped through the wheat, a hare started out between the legs of the Emperor’s horse—Friedland—and made him swerve slightly. The Emperor, whose seat was poor, rolled to the ground but got up so quickly that he was on his feet before I could reach him to give him a hand. He mounted again without saying a word. The ground was very soft and he was only slightly bruised on the hip. It struck me then that here was a bad omen; nor was I the only one to think so, for the Prince of Neuchâtel instantly seized my hand and said:
“We should do better not to cross the Niemen. That fall is a bad sign.”
The Emperor, who at first had kept a complete silence, though his private thoughts were doubtless no more cheerful than our own, presently began to joke with the Prince of Neuchatel and myself about his fall; but his bad temper and forebodings were obvious despite his efforts at concealment. In other circumstances he would have complained about the charger which had caused this foolish accident, and would not have spared the Master of Horse. Now, however, he affected the utmost serenity, and did all he could to dispel the misgivings which he sensed that everyone must have felt—for men are superstitious despite themselves, in such serious moments and on the eve of such great events.
Talk about his fall was general: some of the headquarters staff observed that the Romans, who believed in portents, would not have undertaken the crossing of the Niemen. During the whole of that day the Emperor, usually so cheerful and active when his troops were carrying out extensive operations, was very serious and preoccupied.
There was no news from the other side of the river; communications had been interrupted for some days.
The only sign of life on the opposite bank was an occasional Cossack patrol. During the day the Emperor inspected his troops and continued to reconnoitre the neighbourhood. The corps on our right knew no more than we did of the enemy’s movements. They had no news whatever of the Russians. Everyone was complaining that no spies came back, a fact which put the Emperor in bad humour. We only heard from Mariampol that a Jew, coming from the interior, reported that the Russian army was in retreat, and that we were faced only by Cossacks. The Emperor believed that the Russians were massing about Troki for the defence of Wilna.
The Emperor sent for me after dinner and asked what had caused him to be thrown; he said he was scarcely hurt but had got up so quickly that probably in the darkness no one would have noticed the accident. He asked if it was being talked about at headquarters. He then renewed several inquiries about Russia, the mode of life of the inhabitants, the resources offered by the towns and villages, the state of the roads. He asked if the peasants had any energy, if they were the sort of people to arm themselves and form bands like the Spaniards, and finally if I thought that the army had retreated and thus delivered Wilna to him without giving battle. He seemed to be very anxious that this should be so, but he argued to convince me that the Russian army could not have retreated from Mariampol, as had been reported, and thus given up the capital of Lithuania [Wilna]—and in consequence the whole of Russian Poland—without fighting, if only not to dishonour itself in the eyes of the Poles. He urged me to give him my opinion of this retreat.
I answered that I did not anticipate any pitched battles; that I thought, as I had always told him, that the terrain was so ample that they might yield a great deal, if only to lead him a long distance from his base and oblige him to divide his forces.
“Then I have got Poland,” answered the Emperor briskly. “And in the eyes of the Poles Alexander has the undying shame of having lost it without fighting. To give me Wilna is to lose Poland.”
He dwelt at some length on this point, on the deployment of his forces and their rapid movement; and he drew the conclusion that it was impossible for the Russians to save their stores and artillery. He even believed that some of them would be destroyed through their inability to escape the speed of his movements. He counted and reckoned up the hours it would take him to reach Wilna, and plied me with questions as if I had done the journey—as if it were only a question of travelling there in a post-chaise.
“In less than two months’ time,” the Emperor said to me, “Russia will be suing for peace. The great landowners will be terrified, some of them ruined. The Tsar Alexander will be in a very awkward position, for at heart the Russians care nothing for the Poles, certainly not enough to face ruin for their sakes.”
To avoid being contradicted, the Emperor delivered a rapid fire of questions and of the answers that he wished to hear, preserving meanwhile the appearance of urging me to reply, and continually asking me—without giving me the chance to get in a word—whether I did not think as he did.
When he had done speaking, my silence angered him. He wanted a response that would strengthen his preconceptions....
The Niemen was crossed by Morand’s division during the night [June 23-24, 1812]. The others followed; the pontoon detachments had been brought down ahead of time within reach of the stream. This operation was carried out in a few hours without the slightest difficulty, and without any opposition, even from the Cossacks, small numbers of whom were on the farther bank and who only replied to our shots when our troops entered the first village on the other side, some distance from the river.
The Emperor crossed during the morning, as soon as the First Division was established; and he seemed greatly astonished to learn that the Russian army, which had been at Wilna, had retreated three days previously. Several reports had to be made, and various people who had come from there had to be brought to him, before he would believe the news. He followed the movements of the advance-guard for more than two leagues, hurried the whole army forward, and questioned all the countryfolk whom he could find, but obtained no positive news; Poles were sent out in all directions to gather information.
The Emperor returned to Kowno, visited the town and its environs, and was occupied until nightfall in hastening the crossing of the Wilia, which was undertaken by some swimmers, and by erecting a bridge for the passage of an army corps which was to operate on the other side of that river.
It was M. Guéheneuc who led a couple of hundred determined swimmers across the river. He turned back from his regiment of light infantry and leaped fully clothed into the stream to save a lancer who was being carried away by the current. The Emperor considered that this deed, praiseworthy enough in a civilian, was not appropriate to a colonel at the head of his regiment in the face of the enemy. He told him so.
The Emperor spent the night at a Russian convent a quarter of a league from Kowno. There he stayed until the twenty-sixth to work out his plans, speed up the passage of the Niemen, and accelerate the movement of the troops in every direction. He learned that the Russian army was in full retreat; but that as it covered too extended a front, the left, under Bagration, was so far away that it would have difficulty in keeping communication with the centre.
“I will take a hand in it,” said the Emperor, “if the Russians will not fight before Wilna.”
The Emperor would gladly have given wings to the entire army. On the twenty-seventh he slept at Owzianiskai, and on the twenty-eighth arrived at Wilna at nine o’clock in the morning. This rapid movement without stores exhausted and destroyed all the resources and houses which lay on the way. The vanguard lived quite well, but the rest of the army was dying of hunger. Exhaustion, added to want and the piercing cold rains at night, killed off ten thousand horses. Many of the Young Guard died on the road of fatigue, cold and hunger. The leaders wanted these young men to rival the veterans who had survived so many toils, perils and privations; and the youth of the army was thus the victim of misplaced zeal.
The Prince of Eckmühl, who supported the advance-guard of the King of Naples, had announced that Lieutenant-General Balachof, chief aide-de-camp to the Tsar, had arrived at his headquarters with a letter for the Emperor. The Prince was ordered to invent some pretext to detain him. It was not until two or three days after his arrival that he was given leave to come to Wilna. Our advance-guard had had a lively engagement some leagues from the city, and another quite close to it. Our cavalry had not come off best, and M. Ségur, captain of light cavalry, had been taken prisoner.
The Emperor had definite information of the retreating movement of the enemy. He was amazed that they had yielded Wilna without a struggle, and had taken their decision in time to escape him.
It was truly heart-breaking for him to have to give up all hope of a great battle before Wilna.... He flattered himself that the Prince of Eckmühl would be more fortunate in his movements against Bagration, and that the corps which were to march on the Dwina would get into touch with the left flank of the Russians.15 His first question to any officer coming to headquarters from the various army corps was, “How many prisoners have been taken?” He was anxious for trophies, so as to encourage the Poles; and no one sent him any.
The Duke of Bassano and Prince Sapiéha undertook to organize the country and raise the Poles in arms; but the inhabitants seemed little disposed to respond to the appeals made to their patriotism. The pillage and the irregularities of all kinds in which the army had indulged had put the whole countryside to flight. In the towns the more respectable people kept within doors. Whatever the zeal of those Poles who had come with the army, the Emperor had to send for any of the responsible persons of Wilna whom he might require; for not a soul presented himself or offered his services.
The Emperor decided to summon M. Balachof to Wilna. The way in which His Majesty spoke of M. Balachof’s mission made it seem a veritable trophy presented to the Poles, for he interpreted it as a proof of the Russian government’s embarrassment, and a source of encouragement. I only learned of his arrival from the Prince of Neuchâtel, who told me what he knew of this mission, from which we augured nothing likely to favour peace. The Emperor Napoleon said:
“My brother Alexander, who showed himself so haughty with Narbonne, already wants a settlement. He is afraid. My manoeuvres have disconcerted the Russians; before a month is over they will be on their knees to me.”
M. Balachof brought a letter from the Tsar Alexander, and also instructions in keeping with its contents, to demand the reasons for this invasion in peacetime and without any declaration of war. He was also to propose, in the absence of any known grievance caused by misunderstanding between the two States, to exchange explanations and to avoid war if the Emperor Napoleon would retire to his positions behind the Niemen, pending negotiations.
It seemed, to the few who were initiated into the secret of this proposal, that the rapidity of our movements had from the outset disconcerted and upset the military dispositions of the Russians; and that now, embarrassed and doubtful whether he could rally Bagration’s corps in front of the Dwina, the Tsar Alexander was trying to delay our advance by any kind of palaver whatsoever. I am repeating what I heard said, for at the time I had no personal knowledge of the matter. I do know, however, that in the presence of the Prince of Neuchâtel, the Duke of Istria, myself and, I think, Duroc, the Emperor Napoleon said in a loud voice:
“Alexander is laughing at me. Does he imagine that I have come to Wilna to discuss trade treaties? I have come to finish off, once and for all, the Colossus of Northern Barbarism. The sword is drawn. They must be thrust back into their snow and ice, so that for a quarter of a century at least they will not be able to interfere with civilized Europe.
“Even in the days of Catherine,” he went on, “the Russians counted for little or nothing in the politics of Europe. It was the partition of Poland which gave them contact with civilization. The time has come when Poland, in her turn, must drive them home again. Do the battles of Austerlitz, of Friedland, or the Peace of Tilsit give ground for the claims of my brother Alexander? We must seize this chance to cure the Russians of their curiosity about what goes on in Germany. I consent to their admitting the English to Archangel, but the Baltic should be closed to them. Why did not Alexander explain himself to Narbonne or to Lauriston, who was at Petersburg and whom he would not receive at Wilna?
“Up to the very last, Rumiantsof has refused to believe in the possibility of war. He has persuaded Alexander that our movements were merely threats—that the maintenance of the alliance was too much in my own interest for me to be determined on war. He thought that he fathomed me; that he was more subtle than I am diplomatic. Now that the Tsar sees it is a serious matter, and that his army has been cut in two, he is afraid and wants to come to terms; but I will sign the peace at Moscow.... Since Erfurt Alexander has become too haughty. The acquisition of Finland has turned his head. If he must have victories, let him defeat the Persians, but don’t let him meddle in the affairs of Europe. Civilization rejects these people of the North; Europe must settle its own affairs without them.”
M. Balachof was well received by the Emperor, who invited him to dinner [July 1], together with the Prince of Neuchatel, the Duke of Istria, and myself. I was more than astounded at this compliment, but it could not have been paid me on my own account, the Emperor having long since accustomed me not to expect any favours which he could possibly refrain from granting to those in his entourage.
The Emperor treated M. Balachof perfectly and spoke freely to him. In the conversation after dinner His Majesty remarked, apostrophizing me:
“The Tsar Alexander treats ambassadors handsomely. He imagines that he can conduct diplomacy with blandishments. He made a Russian out of Caulaincourt.”
It was the customary reproach. Since he could not harm me in the eyes of my countrymen, who knew me well enough to discount this kind of reproach as I did myself, I paid no heed to it. But when it was repeated with the obvious intention of commending me to the good graces of the Emperor Alexander, the words grated on me, and I could not refrain from answering the Emperor with some warmth:
“It is doubtless because my freedom of speech has too successfully proved to Your Majesty that I am a very good Frenchman that you can pretend to doubt it. The marks of kindness with which the Tsar Alexander so often honoured me were in reality addressed to Your Majesty. As your faithful servant, Sire, I shall never forget them.”
The Emperor, observing my irritation, changed the subject, and shortly afterwards dismissed M. Balachof.
M. Balachof having left the Emperor’s presence, His Majesty said to me jokingly that I was wrong to be incensed at his remarks about my having turned Russian; it was only a trick on his part to prove to the Tsar that I had not forgotten his tokens of goodwill.
“You torment yourself,” added the Emperor, “by considering the harm I shall do your friend. His armies dare not await us; they will no more save the honour of his arms than they will that of his cabinet. Before two months are out the Russian nobility will force Alexander to sue me for peace.”
To his usual grievances he added many other matters to prove to the Prince of Neuchâtel, the Duke of Istria, Duroc, and (I think) one or two of his aides-de-camp who were present, that I opposed this war and condemned his System.
So outraged was I at the reproach, “You are a Russian,” that I could not contain myself. I answered the Emperor that I was a better Frenchman than those who extolled this war; that I had always told him the truth when others, in the hope of pleasing him, merely told him tales to excite his feelings. I added that, knowing the respect I owed to my sovereign, I took his pleasantries in good part when only my countrymen were present, for I already possessed their esteem; but that it was an outrage to doubt my fidelity and patriotism before a foreigner. Since the Emperor had published the fact, I said, I was proud to be against this war—to have done all I could to prevent it—and I even felt honoured at the discomfort and vexation which my attitude had brought me. I concluded by saying that, having for a long time seen that my services were no longer acceptable to him, I begged permission to retire; but as I could not honourably go into private life while the war lasted, I begged him to give me a command in Spain and permission to start on the morrow.
The Emperor answered me very quietly:
“Who is doubting your fidelity? I know well enough that you are an honest man. I was only joking. You are too touchy; you know perfectly well that I hold you in esteem. Just now you are talking at random. I shall not reply to what you are saying.”
I was, I confess, so beside myself that, far from growing calmer, I was on the verge of saying the most unbecoming things to the Emperor.
The Duke of Istria pulled one tail of my coat, the Prince of Neuchâtel the other, and between them they drew me aside and begged me to retort no more. The Emperor—who kept his patience and spoke, I am bound to admit, with the same kindness—seeing that I was beyond listening to reason, retired to his study and left me to those gentlemen, who tried vainly to lead me away and calm me. I had lost my head completely. At last I reached my quarters, firmly resolved to go. I did not retire to bed until I had put all my affairs in order and left everything arranged for my departure.
Very early the next morning I asked Duroc to take over my duties and receive the Emperor’s orders. In vain did he remonstrate with me. A little later the Prince of Neuchatel and Duroc came in succession from the Emperor, who, not seeing me in the bedchamber at his rising, charged them to tell me that he did not want to hear any more about my going. But I persisted in my desire to be gone. Not seeing me when he mounted his horse, the Emperor sent for me twice; but I was not to be found. I wished to avoid the embarrassment of answering people with whom it was unfitting that I should enter into explanations of my refusal to attend His Majesty.
Seeing that I did not appear, the Emperor, having taken some turns about the town and stopped by the bridge, gave orders that I should be found and told that his orders were for me to come speak with him. I could not refuse obedience, and I joined him whilst he was inspecting the outworks in front of Wilna.
As soon as I presented myself he pinched my ear.
“Are you mad to want to leave me?” he said. “I esteem you, as you know, and have no desire to hurt your feelings.”
Whereupon he galloped off, pulled up soon afterwards, and began to speak of many other matters. Neither Duroc nor I could come to any other decision or say anything else, except that it was impossible to leave him.
The Diet of Warsaw, which met on June 24 as a general Confederation, had called the Poles to arms and summoned them to desert the standards of the oppressors whom they were serving. It sent a deputation to Wilna to lay its wishes and desires before the Emperor, and also to stir up the Lithuanians. The Emperor’s reply to their address [July 11, 1812] treated Galicia as no part of Poland, and was so evasive that it chilled and dissatisfied the most zealous.
The Emperor showed incredible activity during his stay at Wilna. Twenty-four hours did not give him a long enough day. Aides-de-camp, orderly officers, staff officers, were constantly on the roads. He waited with growing impatience for reports from the corps on the march. His first words to all who arrived were invariably, “How many prisoners have been taken?”
The Emperor’s plans were taking shape, and late at night on July 16 he left Wilna to join his Guard at Swenziany. There the Emperor received despatches from the King of Naples giving details of a check to his cavalry. At the same time the King announced the evacuation by the Russians of the entrenched camp at Drissa, and the general retreat of the Russian army, which had abandoned all its positions and the works upon which it had been labouring for two years. This was inevitable, for Bagration would have been cut off from Barclay and the Southern provinces if he had not hastened to take this step. The Emperor had long predicted it, and it augured well; the news went to his head, and at the same time kindled the enthusiasm of those who were coldest towards the Polish Cause, as it was called at headquarters.
His Majesty at once decided to go to Gloubokoje, and the Guard was immediately despatched towards that place. The Emperor spent twelve hours at Swenziany to dictate orders, and marched the whole of that night in the hope that, by the rapidity of this movement, he could make contact with the Russian army. In the morning he arrived at Gloubokoje, a fine monastery in a very fertile stretch of country. This astounding march from Wilna to Gloubokoje proved that horses well ridden can cover a surprising distance, for the mounted chargers and the animals laden with heavy packs left Wilna at six o‘clock in the morning, reached Swenziany at eight o’clock in the evening, and by noon of the following day were at Gloubokoje, having thus covered forty-eight leagues. The saddle-horses made the journey of thirty-four leagues from Swenziany to Gloubokoje in eighteen hours without one falling sick.
The King of Naples, who commanded the advance-guard, was on the Dwina. Various cavalry skirmishes with mixed success had followed that ill-performed reconnaissance which had cost us General Saint-Genies and many officers. The Russian army, having concealed its line of retreat, was able to effect it without being harassed; but the Marshal-Prince of Eckmühl, by his rapid march on Mohilew, had cut off the retreat of Prince Bagration, who engaged in a lively battle with the advance-guard at Salta-Nowka in a vain attempt to reopen his communications.
Having failed to do this, after futile efforts in which he lost from four to five thousand men, he decided to attempt a new detour to get into touch with the main army, but was not able to rejoin it until they reached Smolensk. This affair was very costly in men, principally to the Russians—though very few prisoners were taken.
It was ascertained at the same time that the Tsar Alexander had left Polotsk on July 18, and his army some days previously; also that he had gone on to Moscow to call the nation to arms.16 It was thought that he had left the army in order to escape the responsibility of subsequent military reverses—since its earlier movements had been unfortunate, in that the forces had been separated and obliged to evacuate the great entrenched camp at Drissa, which was looked upon in Russia as an invincible barrier if held by sufficient troops. Everything seemed to indicate that the corps were far from being up to strength, as was supposed, and as they might easily have been if, as the Emperor said, the Russian chiefs and commissariat had not put a quarter of the army into their own pockets.
It was also learned that a ukase had been issued for calling to the colours one man in every hundred, as well as two proclamations by the Tsar Alexander, one to the Russian nation and the other to the people of the city of Moscow, which could leave no manner of doubt as to the desire to make the war a national one. Printed notices, signed by Barclay and tossed to our outposts, proved that he was not even scrupulous as to the means he would employ, for the French and Germans were asked to desert their standards and settle in Russia.
The Emperor appeared amazed at this.
“My brother Alexander stops at nothing,” he said. “If I liked, I could promise his peasants freedom. He has been deceived as to the strength of his army, he does not know how to employ it and he does not want to make peace; he is not consistent. A man who is not the strongest should be the most politic; and his policy should be to make an end.”
The Emperor was overjoyed when he learned of the evacuation of the camp at Drissa which the Russians had taken two years to fortify. Alexander’s departure thence seemed to him a great achievement. He rightly attributed it to his own rapid movements, which had prevented the joining up of the various corps of the whole army, and had obliged it to evacuate the camp without a battle in order to seek a rallying-point further away. Now, he said, he could choose between Moscow and Petersburg, if Russia did not sue for peace.
By rapid manœuvres he hoped to force the Russian army to give battle as he desired, or else to demoralize and undermine them by continual retreat without fighting. He added that Bagration’s corps would not join the main army, that it would be captured, or anyhow be partially destroyed, and that this would cause a great sensation in Russia, as that general was one of Suvarof’s old comrades in arms. The Emperor had quickly decided to move against Witepsk, in the hope of forcing the Russian army to fight in defence of that town and await Bagration, whom the Prince of Eckmühl continued to press so closely.
His Majesty left Gloubokoje on the twenty-first, and slept at Kamen on the twenty-third. The hussars of the Russian Guard suffered severely in an affair with our advance-guard near Beschenkowitschi [July 25]. It was on reaching that small town that the Emperor noticed what we had already observed for days past—that all the inhabitants had fled, leaving their houses absolutely deserted, and that everything went to prove that this migration was in accordance with a definite plan carried out under orders recently issued by the government.
From Beschenkowitschi to beyond Witepsk we were always in bivouac or under canvas.
The Emperor was so anxious for a battle that he drove the army forward with all his energy and all the brilliance of his genius. The battle of Ostrowno [July 26], after Beschenkowitschi, was quite costly but sufficiently advantageous. It was nevertheless only a rear-guard action in which the enemy really obtained the result he desired, for he hindered our movement, forced us to make fresh dispositions, and in consequence delayed us several hours.
The army again began to advance, and on the morrow we found ourselves in presence of the enemy, who was occupying the heights crowning a great plateau in front of Witepsk. The Emperor was on horseback before daybreak [July 27], and the reconnaissances pushed as far as the Lutchiesa River found a strong body of enemy cavalry in position. Our infantry arrived. Two regiments had already crossed the bridge but were waiting on a plateau, a little in advance and to the right, until the artillery and the remainder of the cavalry should join them. The enemy deployed considerable masses of cavalry, which bore down on the weak regiments of light troops that composed our advance-guard, who were formed in two lines, to the left of the road and in front of the gully. Our cavalry regiments reached them, but could not form up quickly enough to make headway against the masses of men already engaged with our advance-guard, over which the enemy gained at the outset an easy success.
During this time a company of light infantry, detached from our left to support the small force of our cavalry, proved what the resolution of this admirable branch of infantry can do, even when it is cut off. Placed along the stream and in some bushes and houses in front of the gully, these brave fellows were surrounded by a cloud of cavalry against which they fired at will in support of our feeble squadrons. They kept up a continuous fire, and emptied many saddles among the enemy, doing such damage that by degrees they forced him off the flank of our squadrons, which would have been seriously threatened from the onset of the attack had it not been for this valuable help.
Several times we saw five or six of these light infantrymen assemble some fifty paces from the enemy squadrons, when a knot of horsemen was bearing down on them, and stand back to back, holding their fire and waiting till they had them at point-blank range. They even took some prisoners. This company played a great part in the events of the day. The Emperor said to several of them, who brought him prisoners and asked for the cross: “You are all brave lads, and you all deserve it.”
The day was spent in manœuvring, bombarding, and minor attacks to test and adjust our respective positions in preparation for the great battle for which the Emperor and the majority of the French were hoping on the morrow. The Emperor was cheerful and already beaming with pride, so confident was he of measuring his strength with the enemy and obtaining a result that should give some colour to his expedition, already too far-flung. He spent the day in the saddle, reconnoitred the terrain in every direction, even at a considerable distance, and returned to his tent very late, having actually seen and checked everything for himself.
It is impossible to give any idea of the general disappointment—especially the Emperor’s disappointment—when at daybreak [July 28] the certainty was borne in upon us that the Russian army had vanished and abandoned Witepsk. Not a soul was to be found, not even a peasant, who could indicate the direction taken by the enemy [Barclay], for he had not passed through the town.
For some hours we had to act like huntsmen and follow up in every direction the track he had taken. What was the use? What route had his masses of men and artillery followed? No one knew, and for some hours no one could know, for there were signs of them on all sides.
Moreover, the Emperor at first only sent out his advance-guards. He passed rapidly through the streets and outside the town, and then rejoined his Guard, which, like the rest of the troops, was already on the march along the road to Smolensk. The troops were constantly harassed. Many of the horses were unable to stand up through the charges the vanguard made; and so their riders were lost. The Emperor bivouacked at Lochesna with the Guard, and remained there through part of the following day [July 29], waiting for news.
But there were no inhabitants to be found, no prisoners to be taken, not a single straggler to be picked up. There were no spies. We were in the heart of inhabited Russia and yet, if I may be permitted the comparison, we were like a vessel without a compass in the midst of a vast ocean, knowing nothing of what was happening around us. At last it was learned from two peasants who were caught that the Russian army was far ahead of us, and that it had been on the move for four days.
For more than an hour the Emperor remained undecided.
“Perhaps the Russians want to give battle at Smolensk,” he said. “Bagration has not yet joined up with them; we must attack them.”