CHAPTER V
BORODINO
THE Russian army marched in good order, without undue haste, like men intent on abandoning nothing and prepared in case of necessity to stand their ground. The King of Naples believed that their good marching order showed their intention of giving battle. He even had the idea—it is not known why—that Barclay de Tolly had taken up his position behind the Ouja, and that he was establishing entrenchments in front of Dorogobouje in preparation for this battle.
The King thought this might be the battle for which the Emperor had expressed so many hopes, and that if we gained it the army could be ensured of a long rest in billets without being forced to leave its base too far behind. Our numerical superiority and our habit of success justified us in believing that we should gain a victory. The King of Naples poured forth his dreams and hopes to the Emperor. I call them dreams, for Miloradovitch’s reinforcements had not come up, and the Russians were in no position to give battle.
But these hopes were too sanguine, and accorded too well with the Emperor’s own views, not to sweep him off his feet. He left Smolensk in all haste [one A.M., August 25]. The Guard moved ahead in echelon to support the King of Naples if necessary, and was ordered to press forward; and once again the Emperor was running a blind risk, to some degree against his will. Reaching Dorogobouje on the twenty-fifth, he stayed there through the twenty-sixth.
Once more the gauntlet was flung down, and the Emperor was not the man to turn back. The sight of his troops and all the warlike bustle exalted him. As soon as he found himself amidst these elements, the wise thoughts he had entertained in Smolensk yielded to the enticements of Glory. It was said that we should overtake the enemy forces on the morrow; they were hard-pressed; they could not always escape, at the rate they were being driven. It was useless to expect real rest until a battle had been fought; otherwise we should be kept constantly anxious. In short, as many good reasons were found for pushing forward as had been discovered, forty-eight hours earlier, for staying at Smolensk; and once again we set off in pursuit of the glory, or rather the fatality, which relentlessly prevented the Emperor from holding to his good intentions and wiser. projects.
The news of a success obtained by Prince Schwarzenberg [Austrian] over the Russians revived the Emperor’s hopes.
“This gives colour to the alliance,” he said. “That gunshot will re-echo in Petersburg, in my brother Alexander’s throne-room. It is a good example for the Prussians. Maybe it will put them on their mettle.”
He asked me if Prince Schwarzenberg was well-known at Petersburg, and whether his connections were with the most exalted personages of the Court. He granted him a second sum of five hundred thousand francs on account of secret expenses, and instructed the Prince of Neuchatel to send him the bond.
Several corps received bread at Dorogobouje—an unusual occurrence.
Confirmation was had there of details about the Tsar’s arrival at Moscow on July 24, of which we had known little and had not even heard until after our arrival in Smolensk. We learned that he had convoked the nobility and townsfolk; that he had not concealed the true condition of the State, and had asked the various governments for aid. Moscow had offered eighty thousand men, and the others in proportion. Little Russia had given him eighteen thousand Cossacks; and private individuals had supplied battalions, squadrons, and companies all fully equipped. To give this armament a national and religious character, Archbishop Platow had offered the Tsar the miracle-working ikon of St. Sergius, which His Majesty in turn had given to the Moscow Militia. In short, a crusade was being preached against the French.
From Dorogobouje the army marched almost in line, the King’s cavalry, the Guard, the First Corps and Marshal Ney’s corps on the road, the Poles on the right, the Viceroy [Prince Eugène] on the left. We found ourselves on the highest plateau in Russia, the watershed from which the Volga flows into the Caspian Sea, the Dnieper into the Black Sea, and the Dwina into the Baltic. Since crossing the Dnieper the troops and the artillery had become exhausted by the sand; but Barclay’s supposed readiness to give battle made us hold to what semblance we could of mass formation.
Some believed that the burning of the cities and market-towns which we entered was due as much to the disorders of our vanguard as to the Cossack rear-guard, who cared little for Russia. I confess that at first I shared this opinion, not comprehending what object the Russians could have in destroying all their public buildings of a non-military character, and even private houses, which could not, after all, be of great service to us. Several persons spoke to the Emperor about these fires. He ordered my brother21 to take a strong detachment of the Guard [August 29] near Wiasma and press the enemy so closely as to enter the town on the heels of their rear-guard, thus finding out at first hand what really happened and whether the Russians actually started any fires. The Emperor instructed my brother to keep order in the town, and not let a single straggler remain there.
These orders were obeyed to the letter. The enemy rear-guard was in position, but evacuated the town after a hot engagement. My brother entered Wiasma in hot haste with some sharpshooters. The town was already on fire in several places. He saw Cossacks set light to inflammable material, some of which he discovered in various quarters where fire broke out later, before the last Cossacks had to flee. He set our troops to subdue the fire; everyone worked his hardest and some houses were saved, together with supplies of grain, flour and brandy. At first everything was saved from pillage, but that did not last long.
It was ascertained, from particulars supplied by some of the inhabitants who had stayed in their houses, that complete arrangements had been made by a detachment of Cossack rear-guard long before our arrival, and that the place had been set on fire as soon as we came in sight. Everyone was taken aback, the Emperor as well as his men—though he affected to turn this novel method of warfare into matter for ridicule. He often spoke to us jokingly about what he called “A people who burn their houses to prevent our sleeping in them for a night.”
In spite of these fires, after leaving Dorogobouje those who were first on the spot found plenty of food, brandy, and even wine. The horrible spectacle of this dreadful destruction was therefore less staggering to men who found something to put into their stomachs—not to mention their knapsacks and canteens. There had been such desperate want and privation, such exhaustion, and Russia had appeared at first such a forbidding country, that for most men the belly had become the sole barometer of feeling, belief and judgment.
In Poland everything had been lacking; at Witepsk, by dint of infinite pain and care, we had fared meagrely; at Smolensk, by searching the countryside, we had found standing crops, grain, flour, cattle, and even forage, but no brandy or wine. After Dorogobouje all was in flames, but the shops and cellars were well stocked, even to the point of luxury. The houses were soon found to contain hiding-places where abundance of everything was discovered. The soldiers pillaged; nor could this be stopped, since there was no issue of rations, nor, as we were marching without transports and living from hand to mouth, could there be any such distribution.
Most of the men fared well, even very well. It was the officers alone who sometimes suffered privation, for they did not enter houses until after the ransacking, and so could not share in the plunder. Thus the general or senior officer would be eating a piece of black bread at some soldier’s camp-fire where fowls were roasting alongside sheep, where ham was sizzling among hundreds of eggs. The luxury, frequency and size of the houses—all signs showed that a great capital was near. Once again the soldiers became indefatigable.
The King of Naples, who was in command of the advance-guard, often covered ten or a dozen leagues a day. The men were in the saddle from three o’clock in the morning until ten at night. As the sun never sank beneath the horizon, the Emperor forgot that the day contained no more than four-and-twenty hours.
The roads were littered with dead horses, but every day and every moment the Emperor flattered himself that he was about to make contact with the enemy. He needed prisoners at any price; they were the only source of information about the Russian army, for spies had become useless from the moment we crossed on to Russian soil. The prospect of Siberia or the knout cooled the zeal of the cleverest and most intrepid spy; besides, it was extremely difficult to penetrate into the country and even more so into the army. The only information received was by way of Wilna; nothing came to us direct.
By the end of the day our horses were so weary that a mere skirmish would cost us several brave fellows, their horses not being able to stand the pace. When our squadrons were recalled we saw troopers on foot, in the midst of the fray, dragging their horses by the bridle, and others obliged to abandon them altogether and escape on foot.
The Prince of Neuchâtel, Counts Durosnel and Lobau, and some other brave men in the Emperor’s entourage, were continually presenting him with a picture of what was going on, and urging him to husband what resources he had left, if, as he said, he desired to meet the enemy in battle or to push forward to Moscow. The Emperor listened to us; but, since he always hoped to have on the morrow what escaped him that day, he was led on and on despite himself, and was forced to cover a dozen leagues when he had intended to make only five.
While we were following the Russian army, powerless to obtain the least information about it, great changes were taking place in its formation. General Kutusof, who had been summoned to the command in deference to the opinion of the nobles, joined it at Tsarewo, between Ghjat and Wiasma., on the twenty-ninth, without the Emperor Napoleon being aware of the fact. We were threatening the capital city; the Holy City was burnt down and occupied by the French; we were at the gates of Ghjat; and the Tsar, who had sent M. Balachof to Wilna, now vouchsafed no answer to overtures.
At last, about two leagues in front of Ghjat, the advance-guard captured a Cossack whose horse had been killed, and shortly afterwards a negro who called himself the Hetman Platow’s cook.22 This latter fellow was taken as he was leaving a village where he had been pillaging. The King of Naples sent them both to the Emperor, who plied them with questions. Their replies struck me as so pointed that I made rather full notes.
The negro gave us particulars of the mode of life of his general, upon whom he always waited at table. He thus heard the conversation that went on, and was able to recount the rivalries of some of the generals, who were jealous of one another; but he knew nothing of the army’s marching movements. He kept on asking to whom he was talking—before whom he had been brought—and at the same time making the most comical grimaces and contortions. He and the Cossack had to be told again and again that it was the Emperor himself who was interrogating them. Neither would believe that it could be the Emperor Napoleon marching with the vanguard and so near their Cossack friends; for they could not believe that the Tsar would be so near the enemy.
“Platow sometimes comes to the vanguard,” said the negro, “but he does not march with them like this; nor does he stay with them. As for the Russian generals, they never go with the Cossacks, nor even with the Russian troops. If the Russians were to be in the van with the Cossacks, the French would not be at the gates of Ghjat, for there are many more Russians and Cossacks than there are French, and the Cossacks are not afraid of the French.”
When told once again that it was the Emperor he was speaking to, he bowed, prostrated himself several times, and then began to dance, sing, and make every imaginable contortion. This negro had assured the King of Naples, who had no guide, that he knew the entire countryside, so His Majesty ordered the man to be sent back to him; and this was done.
THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON
Sketched from life by Girodet in 1812 at Saint-Cloud
Property of the Museum of Chateauroux
The Emperor then had the Cossack brought before him. He had been kept to one side while the negro was being questioned; he was a man between thirty and thirty-six years of age, dark, five feet tall, with quick eyes, an open and intelligent face and a serious air; and he was apparently much distressed at finding himself a prisoner. He was especially troubled at having lost his horse, his money, and what he called his little package—that is to say the effects he had taken or stolen, which he carried on his saddle and used for padding out his seat. The Emperor told me to give him some gold pieces and lend him a horse from the stables; this consoled him, and his confidence was soon restored; he then talked as much as was wanted.
Attached to the rear-guard, he had seen nothing of the main army since Smolensk; it had suffered greatly in what he called the battle, that is to say at Smolensk. It would fight another battle in front of Moscow. The Russians complained bitterly of Barclay, who, they said, had prevented them from fighting at Wilna or Smolensk by shutting them up in the town. Kutusof had reached the army to replace Barclay two days previously. The Cossack had not seen him, but a young staff-officer had come on the previous day to speak to the Cossack officer and had disclosed this news, adding that the nobles had forced the Tsar to make this change, and that it was warmly welcomed by the army.
This news, which seemed highly probable to the Emperor, afforded him the greatest pleasure, and he repeated it to everyone. Barclay’s temporizing nature was wearing him out. This retreat, in which nothing was abandoned despite the inconceivable activity of the pursuers, gave no hopes of obtaining from such an adversary the result he so much desired.
(“This plan of theirs,” the Emperor would sometimes remark, “will give me Moscow. But a good battle would finish the war sooner and lead us to peace—and that is how we are bound to finish it, anyway.”)
On learning of Kutusof’s arrival, he immediately observed with an air of satisfaction that the Russian general could not have come for the purpose of continuing the retreat. He would certainly give battle; he would as certainly lose it, and deliver Moscow to us, for he was too near the capital to save it. Thanks were due to the Tsar for having made this change at such a moment, which could not have been more propitious. The Emperor commended Marshal Kutusof on the score of his intelligence, but spoke of his ineptitude at Austerlitz and of his manœuvres there and in Turkey, adding that, with the finest army the Russians had ever had on the Danube, he had not been able to make peace at the gates of Constantinople, or to seize Wallachia. With an enfeebled and demoralized army he would certainly not prevent the French from reaching Moscow.
Kutusof would have to give battle in order to please the nobles, and in a fortnight the Tsar would have neither a capital nor an army. True, this army would have had the honour of not yielding the ancient capital without a struggle, and this was probably the Tsar’s intention in making this change in the command, as he could then make peace without incurring the reproaches and censure of the high nobles who had chosen Kutusof, and upon whom, in consequence, could be imputed the effects of any reverses they might encounter. Undoubtedly, this had been his motive in yielding to his nobles.
The Emperor continued to question the Cossack, whose answers were all given with spirit, and showed a degree of intelligence remarkable in a common soldier.
“If Alexander’s Russian soldiers, especially his generals, were like the Cossacks, you and your Frenchmen would not be in Russia,” he told the Emperor. “If Napoleon had had Cossacks in his army he would have been Emperor of China long ago. It is the Cossacks who do all the fighting; it is always their turn. While the Russians sleep the Cossacks keep watch. The Cossacks will defend Moscow because of Alexander, who is a good prince, though his ministers and generals are deceiving him. His generals only fight when they have to; they have given up Smolensk the Holy and that is a bad sign. If Moscow is taken and the French enter the Cossack country, Russia is lost. Cossacks are good soldiers; they will do their duty to the very last, and then they will side with Napoleon.
“Napoleon is a great general; Alexander is a good Tsar. If he liked, Alexander would be the best general in Russia. Russian generals are too fond of their ease; they sleep too much; they must have cushions and every comfort; they only think of themselves, not of their soldiers’ needs. The French fight well, but they do not keep a good look-out. They like to pillage; they slip away from their units to hunt through houses, and the Cossacks profit by this and capture large numbers every day, and recover their booty from them. Had it not been for the Cossacks the French would have been in Moscow, in Petersburg, even in Kazan. It is the Cossacks who hold them up every day.
“The Cossacks like the King of Naples, who makes a fine show, for he is a brave fellow and always the first to come under fire. Word has gone round that he is not to be killed, but they do want to take him prisoner.”
We found Ghjat [September 1] partly burned and still smoking. They had been caught at work sooner than at Wiasma. Attempts were made to stop the fire. The Emperor made an extended reconnaissance in front of the city and all round it; he visited the hospital, which lay at the town gate and had not been burned. He speeded up the rebuilding of the bridges and the crossing of the troops. He did not return until very late, The time had come at last for the battle he so ardently desired. He went over with relish all he had heard, adding the following reflections: “The new general cannot continue this plan of retreat, which is condemned by national opinion. He has been summoned to command the army on condition that he fights; therefore, the system of warfare pursued hitherto must be changed.”
These considerations decided the Emperor to prepare likewise for action. He spent the second and third at Ghjat in order to collect his troops and give the cavalry and artillery a little rest.
Feeling it needful to bring some order among the convoys that were blocking the roads, and thus give the artillery a chance of getting to the front in time for the battle which he deemed imminent, the Emperor ordered the burning of all vehicles that were jammed in front of the convoys. “I will even have my own carriage burned,” he said to me next day, “if it is out of its proper place.”
While proceeding on horseback, the Emperor came across a number of carriages that were being driven out of column, alongside an artillery train. He made the chasseurs of his bodyguard stop them, leaped from his horse, and ordered the leading one to be burned. There were objections; and M. Narbonne [whose carriage it was] pointed out that this might leave some officer stranded, should he lose his leg on the morrow.
“It will lose me a lot more than that if I have no artillery tomorrow,” answered the Emperor.
Straw and wood had to be fetched to start the fire. While this was going on he had the calèche dismantled, and a light van following it was consigned to the same fate. As soon as the fire was lit the Emperor galloped off, and the drivers, I think, salvaged their somewhat singed vehicles.
“I wish it had been your carriage,” said the Emperor to the Prince of Neuchâtel. “That would create more effect; and you deserve to lose it—I’m always running into it.”
“Behind Your Majesty’s carriage,” answered the Prince.
“That is Caulaincourt’s fault,” rejoined the Emperor. “Anyhow, I have promised him I’ll burn it if I come upon it. Do not be put out at my threat, for I will show no more mercy to my own carriage than to anyone else’s. I am commander-in-chief, and I must set an example.” 23
On the fourth, headquarters were in bivouac near Prokofewo, and on the fifth near Borodino. The Emperor stayed only a moment in his tent, which was pitched, as usual, in the middle of the Guards’ square, but set off at once towards the attack which our right was making against two redoubts supporting the enemy’s left.
This attack was carried out with such vigour that we were masters of the forts in less than an hour. The troops were ordered to remain in position and the infantry in square. This was a wise act of foresight on the part of the Emperor, because half-an-hour after dusk, and long after the action had taken place, Russian cuirassiers supported by infantry charged on our squares with great vigour, making for the redoubts, which they hoped to force us to evacuate and allow them to occupy during the confusion of a night attack.
The first square, taken unawares, lost its artillery and some men; the others, put on their guard by the firing, held firm, and the Russian cuirassiers, badly mauled by our guns and musket-fire and ill-supported in their attack, were obliged to retire and leave us these redoubts, which were the key of their position. Our troops even gained a little ground when they pursued them in the dark, and we established ourselves at the edge of a wood which it was of the utmost importance for the enemy to retain, if only to delay our attack and afford a post from which to observe our movements.
During the night the Emperor went through our encampment, inspected the captured redoubts, rode several times up and down the line to judge with his own eyes as to the enemy positions and their strength at each point. At the same time he visited his troops, as was his custom on the eve of battle.
At daybreak [September 6] the Emperor went once more to the principal redoubt; and under cover of the wood, the whole of which had been occupied during the night, he and the Prince of Neuchâtel and I approached very close to the enemy position. His Majesty then traversed the whole extent of the line, more particularly the centre and the left, which he reconnoitred as far as the outposts. He returned once again to the centre accompanied by the King of Naples, so that he could explain all his dispositions on the spot.
He then visited the extreme right, which was under the command of Prince Poniatowski, who had fought a brilliant engagement at the head of his Poles on the previous day and had gained much ground. The resistance of the Russians at this point was not what it ought to have been, nor what it had been elsewhere. The Emperor hesitated whether he should make a large movement on his right to turn the enemy position and partly avoid his redoubts, or whether he should simply take advantage of the two redoubts he had captured and engage their centre from the front and flank by launching an attack with our right. He was apprehensive lest the first of these plans, which would have threatened the enemy from the rear, would decide the Russians to make another retreat, especially as the loss of the redoubts which had been captured the previous day had greatly weakened their position. These considerations determined him to adopt the latter plan.
Seeing the enemy at ease in their positions, the Emperor decided to let the army rest during that day. This would also give him an opportunity of bringing into line the artillery reserves, and whatever had got slightly to the rear. He also thought—and this last consideration determined him—that the enemy, who had come at nightfall to retake the redoubts essential to the support of their left, would make some efforts during the day to recapture that position, or at least make some efforts to recover the ground gained by the Poles. If they did this, the Emperor hoped for an engagement which would produce exceedingly advantageous results for himself; but the day was spent on both sides in observing one another, except on the part of the Poles, who gained a little more ground, thus allowing us a very advantageous deployment on the enemy’s flank for the morrow’s attack.
Seeing that the Russians had not stirred, the Emperor came to the conclusion that they had constructed new fieldworks to replace those they had lost the previous day. About three o’clock it was even thought that they were retiring, and the Emperor, who was constantly watching them, was on the point of launching an attack; but upon a closer inspection from places which permitted the movements of the Russians to be better understood, it was ascertained that they were in their same positions. That evening the Emperor returned to his tent.
M. Bausset [Prefect of the Palace] had arrived during the afternoon. He brought letters from the Empress, whom he had accompanied as far as Prague on the way from Dresden, and he was also the bearer of a fine portrait of the King of Rome, by Gérard. The Emperor found this portrait hung in his tent when he returned from reconnoitring the enemy posts. The aide-de-camp of the Duke of Ragusa had arrived at the same time with reports of the bad state of affairs in Spain. The courier from Paris had brought the Emperor advance news of this some days previously. But Russian matters were too serious at the moment for him to pay much attention to the Duke of Ragusa’s reverses in the Peninsula.
“The English have their hands full there. They cannot leave Spain and go to make trouble for me in France and Germany. That is all that matters,” he said to me next day.
On the seventh, before daybreak, the Emperor was at the redoubt by our right, and, together with the Prince of Eckmühl, Berthier, and myself, went to the edge of the wood in front. As soon as daylight came, the Emperor’s order of the day was read to the troops. It was brief but forcible, like all those written by himself on great occasions.24
The Poles, the King of Naples with his cavalry, who were on the left, and the Prince of Eckmühl’s troops, were in motion before daybreak. Their attack was impetuous, and the defence stubborn. Prince Bagration, facing them, resisted vigorously and tenaciously, but our troops were so full of enthusiasm that nothing could stop them. General Compans, who was wounded in these first attacks, was replaced by General Rapp, who shared a like fate at the head of the same brave fellows. Generals who were killed or wounded were replaced without the least sensation being caused, without the action being in the least delayed, even when the Prince of Eckmühl himself was hit.
Marshal Ney overwhelmed and broke up the advance corps of the centre with his usual boldness. At seven o’clock there
At the Imperial camp on the heights of Borodino.
September 7, 1812, two o’clock in the morning.
Soldiers!—this is the battle that you have longed for. Victory now depends on you: it must be ours. It will bring us abundance, good winter-quarters and a quick return home.
Do as you did at Austerlitz, at Friedland, at Witepsk, at Smolensk; and may your conduct to-day be spoken of with pride by all generations to come. May it be said of you: He was at that great battle beneath the walls of Moscow!
was at this point a cannonade and a roar of musket-fire such as has not often been heard. In the meanwhile, the King of Naples backed up with his cavalry the impetuous attack of the infantry on the right, and of the Prince of Eckmühl’s corps; and the two remaining fieldworks on the Russian left were taken.
At eight o’clock the Emperor was informed that Montbrun, general of division and commanding the First Cavalry Corps, composed of three divisions, had been killed. He recalled my brother, whom he had sent to the attack on the right, and who came up a moment later to announce the taking of the two redoubts and the subsequent successes.
“Go and take command of the First Cavalry Corps,” the Emperor said to him. “Do as you did at Arzobispo.”
The Prince of Neuchâtel drew him up a written order to show to the generals of division. My brother seized my hand, saying, “With things this hot, I don’t suppose I shall see you again. We shall win, or I shall get myself killed.”
His chronic sufferings often made him desire death; did they now conjure up in him this mournful presentiment? Or was it possibly the heat of the action? I do not know, but I could not rid my mind of this ominous farewell until an even more fatal event occurred to confirm the foreboding which had overtaken me.
Supported by part of the Viceroy’s corps, Marshal Ney was backing up the right, and by ten o’clock the enemy had lost all the ground in front of the Great Redoubt at their centre. They had consequently lost the position on the left and the village that supported their centre [Borodino] ; but their reserves were coming up. For a moment success hovered between the two sides towards our right, and we even had to draw in our advance-troops to the main body while falling back on the captured redoubts.
A formidable array of guns spat forth death in every direction; the Russian infantry made fresh efforts to regain their lost ground. The Great Redoubt belched out a veritable hell on our centre. In vain did Marshal Ney and the Viceroy combine their forces to attack it; they were repulsed. Returning to the attack a second time, they were no more fortunate, and Ney even lost a little ground. A section of the Guard, who had followed by echelons the movement of the corps which united the centre to the right, took up a position from which, if necessary, they could support this corps if the momentary forced retirement should become more serious. But our artillery checked the dash of the enemy, who for a long time stood firm under the fire of a devastating bombardment. Finally they were forced to yield the ground which we had previously taken from them.
All this time the Emperor was watching the movements at the centre; he had stationed himself opposite the last redoubt we had taken, and he gave a general order to halt for the moment and hold the positions we occupied, so as to give the artillery time, he said, to demolish those masses of infantry which stood motionless. It was then nearly eleven o’clock. Shortly before this, Lieutenant-General Likatcheff and some fifteen prisoners taken in the redoubt were brought to him. The officer in charge of them told the Emperor that they had put up a gallant defence. The Emperor received the general well. Seeing that his prisoner was without a sword, he expressed regret that he had been disarmed.
“I respect the courage of the unfortunate too much, sir,” he said, “not to give myself the pleasure of returning his arms to a brave man.”
With that he handed the general his sword, and asked him some questions. He then gave orders that the other prisoners should be questioned, taken care of, and treated, as the general had been, with the utmost respect.
This capture gave the Emperor great pleasure; but it seemed inconceivable to him that so few prisoners had been taken, when these redoubts had been captured in such a rush and entirely surrounded by the King of Naples’s cavalry. He complained bitterly and asked a great number of questions about it, not concealing the fact that he had desired and hoped for other results.
“We shall win the battle,” he said. “The Russians will be crushed, but it will not be conclusive if I do not take prisoners.”
He showed signs of anxiety. Between noon and one o’clock the Emperor ordered the Viceroy to resume the offensive and support the left of Marshal Ney, who was already supporting General Junot. The right, reinforced by the Young Guard, likewise had orders to push forward. The enemy, smashed by the guns and pressed simultaneously on all points, massed their troops and held firm despite the ravages made in their ranks by the guns. The Emperor then climbed into the redoubt to follow with his own eyes and direct the general movement he had ordered all along the line.
Our troops redoubled their efforts without gaining ground. The fire increased to greater intensity; we were at grips at all points. It was at this moment that my brother, having put in motion two of his divisions supported by two battalions of infantry, placed himself at the head of the Fifth Cuirassiers to lead the troops under his command on the Great Redoubt and thus ensure the success of this attack, already attempted in vain several times. He drove out the enemy, and from that moment the battle was won, as the Emperor himself said, for the Russians at once began a general retreat.
I think it was about three o’clock when an aide-de-camp arrived in hot haste to tell the Emperor that the Great Redoubt had been taken by my brother and that the enemy was retiring at all points. An instant later M. Wolbert, my unfortunate brother’s aide-de-camp, who had not quitted his side, brought the Emperor the details of this affair, and told him that my brother had been killed by a bullet below the heart, just as he was coming out of the Redoubt to pursue the enemy who had rallied at some distance and were advancing to retake it. I was at the Emperor’s side when this report was brought.25 I need not attempt to describe my feelings.
“He has died as a brave man should,” said the Emperor, “and that is in deciding the battle. France loses one of her best officers.”
His Majesty immediately set off at a gallop in front of the cavalry, to join the King of Naples and make such dispositions as he considered necessary to assure and follow up this success. Marshal Ney and the Viceroy had supported the decisive movement of General Caulaincourt. The enemy’s counter-attack on the Great Redoubt was in vain, and the Russians were forced to retreat along the whole of their front.
One redoubt still remained to them, as well as a little fieldwork that commanded the Moscow road; and it seemed as though they wished to hold them. A thin wood covered their march and concealed their movements from us at this point. The Emperor flattered himself that the Russians were going to hasten their retreat, and he reckoned on hurling his cavalry on them in an attempt to break them. The Young Guard and the Poles were already on the march towards these outworks which the Russians held. In order to make out their movements the Emperor went with the sharpshooters. Bullets whistled around him; but he had made his escort stay behind. Seeing me at his side, the Emperor told me to go back.
“It is over,” he said. “Go and wait for me at headquarters.”
I thanked him but remained with him. The Emperor was certainly running a great risk, as the fusillade became so lively that the King of Naples and several generals hurried up to urge him to retire.
The Emperor then went in front of the columns that were coming up. The Old Guard followed them; the carabineers and the cavalry marched in echelon. The Emperor seemed determined to carry these last Russian fieldworks, but the Prince of Neuchâtel and the King of Naples pointed out to him that the troops were marching thither without any commander; that nearly all the divisions in the army had likewise been deprived of their commanding officers through death or wounds; that the regiments of cavalry and infantry were, as he could see, greatly reduced in strength. They added that it was growing late; and that though the enemy were certainly retreating, they were doing so in good order and showing an inclination to dispute every inch of the ground tenaciously, whatever the havoc wrought in their ranks by our guns.
They also urged that the only chance of success was to use the Old Guard for the attack, and that in the existing circumstances success at such a price would really be a check—while failure would be a reverse that would counterbalance the entire success of the battle. Finally they urged him not to engage the only corps in the whole army which remained intact and ought to be kept so for future occasions.26 Te Emperor hesi- tated; he went forward once more to observe for himself the enemy’s movements.
Meanwhile the King of Naples and the Prince of Neuchatel had, in different directions, reached the walls of these redoubts. They rejoined the Emperor, whom they assured that the Russians were in position and far from retreating—that several corps were massing, with the look of men determined to retreat no longer. All the successive reports represented our losses as very considerable. The Emperor came to a decision. He suspended the order for an attack and contented himself with sending up supports for the corps still engaged, in case the enemy should be planning a counter-attack. This was unlikely, for their own losses were also immense.
Nightfall put an end to the fighting. Both sides were so weary that in several places firing ceased without orders having been given. At night the Emperor established his headquarters at the spot where he had taken up his stand at the beginning of the battle, on this side of the redoubts.
Never had a battle cost so many generals and officers.27 Success was hardly won, and the fire was so murderous that generals, like their subordinate officers, had to pay in person for victory. We did all we could for the wounded whilst the battle was raging and during the night that followed, but most of the houses in the vicinity of the battlefield had been burned during the day, and in consequence many casualty stations passed the night without shelter.
There were very few prisoners. The Russians showed the utmost tenacity; their fieldworks, and the ground they were forced to yield, were given up without disorder. Their ranks did not break; pounded by the artillery, sabred by the cavalry, forced back at the bayonet-point by our infantry, their somewhat immobile masses met death bravely, and only gave way slowly before the fury of our attacks. Several times the Emperor repeated that it was quite inexplicable to him that redoubts and positions so audaciously captured and so doggedly defended should yield us so few prisoners. Several times he asked, of the officers who came with reports of our successes, where the prisoners were who ought to have been captured. He even sent orderlies to the various positions to make sure that more had not been taken. These successes, yielding neither prisoners nor trophies, made him discontented. Several times he said to the Prince of Neuchâtel and me:
“These Russians let themselves be killed like automatons; they are not taken alive. This does not help us at all. These citadels should be demolished with cannon.”
That night the enemy began their retreat in plain view. Orders were given for the army to follow their movements. At dawn on the following day [September 8] there were only Cossacks in sight, and they were five miles away from the battlefield. The enemy had taken with them the great part of their wounded; and we had only the few prisoners I have mentioned, twelve guns from the Redoubt captured by my unfortunate brother, and three or four other pieces taken in the line by our troops during their first attack.
From early morning the Emperor was out in all parts of the battlefield, supervising with the utmost care the collection and removal of the wounded, Russian as well as French. Never was a battlefield so thickly strewn with dead. In the village round which the attack had centred, the Russian dead lay in heaps. On the plateau behind it the ground was covered with the corpses of Litowski’s and Ismaelowski’s Guards, slaughtered by our guns. The Emperor carefully examined every portion of this battlefield, the positions of each corps, the movements they had made, the difficulties they had had to overcome. At each point he demanded minute details of everything that had happened, dealt out praise and encouragement, and was greeted by his troops with all their wonted enthusiasm.
The Emperor took stock in detail of all the works thrown up by the Russians. I cannot describe my feelings as I passed over the ground which had been dyed by my brother’s blood. If the eulogies and the justice rendered by an entire army to the memory of a brave man could have consoled me, I ought to have had peace in my heart....
After completing his reconnaissance, the Emperor galloped off to the advance-guard. According to reports which he had received that morning from the King of Naples, there were none but Cossacks to be seen. A very small number of stragglers were rounded up; the enemy had not abandoned so much as a cart. The King counted on passing Mojaisk, and made the Emperor agree to establish headquarters there that evening; but when he arrived before the town he found it strongly held by enemy infantry and a large body of cavalry. A late start had been made, and the day was declining. Not being able to reconnoitre the position, we were obliged to come to a halt. The Emperor established himself in the village in front of Mojaisk; the enemy evacuated the town during the night, and our troops entered it the next day at dawn.
The Emperor went into the town towards noon. He was very much preoccupied, for affairs in Spain were weighing him down just when those in Russia, despite this victorious battle, were far from satisfactory. The state of the various corps which he had seen was deplorable. All were sadly reduced in strength. His victory had cost him dear. When he had come to a halt on the previous evening, he had felt convinced that this bloody battle, fought with an enemy who had abandoned nothing in their retreat, would have no result beyond allowing him to gain further ground. The prospect of entering Moscow still enticed him, however; but even that success would be inconclusive so long as the Russian army remained unbroken. Everyone noticed that the Emperor was very thoughtful and worried, although he frequently repeated:
“Peace lies in Moscow. When the great nobles of Russia see us masters of the capital, they will think twice about fighting on. If I liberated the serfs it would smash all those great fortunes. The battle will open the eyes of my brother Alexander, and the capture of Moscow will open the eyes of his nobles.”