The Camp-fires of Napoleon

THE CAMP-FIRE OF BORODINO

Napoleon esteemed the battle of Borodino, or Moskwa, his “greatest feat of arms.” But his conduct during the conflict has been the subject of much animadversion, and many critics agree with Segur that he did not display upon that field his usual splendor and power of genius.—But to the incidents of Borodino.

The Russian army halted at Borodino, and intelligence was brought to the Emperor of the French that they were breaking up the whole plain and forming intrenchments in every part. Napoleon then announced to his troops the approaching battle, and allowed them two days rest to prepare their arms and collect their provision.

Napoleon was leading his army onwards farther and farther, through pathless deserts, or over ruined fields, or towns laid in ashes; fatigue, famine, and war, were reducing his numbers, and he was at every step increasing his distance from his resources, while his enemies were in the heart of their own country. Even at Wilna, a deficiency had been discovered in the hospital department; the evil increased at Witepsk. At Smolensko, there was no want of hospitals; fifteen large brick buildings, saved from the flames, had been set apart for this purpose, and there was plenty of wine, brandy, and medicines, but there was a dearth of dressings for the appalling number of wounds. The surgeons had already used all that could be procured—had torn up their own linen, and at length were obliged to substitute the paper found in the city archives. One hospital, containing a hundred wounded men, was forgotten, in the stress of difficulties, for the space of three whole days. The state of its wretched inmates when it was accidentally discovered by Rapp, none of the chroniclers of these events have ever attempted to describe, and the imagination recoils with horror from the attempt to realise it. Napoleon sent them his own stock of wine, and many pecuniary gratuities. The alarming decrease of numbers noticed at Witepsk was still more perceptible now. The army at Smolensko might be computed at about one hundred and fifty-seven thousand men, part of the deficiency being caused by the occupation of additional territory; the rest by desertion, wounds, sickness, or death. With such a force, however, Napoleon had no reason for apprehension, if he could bring his enemies to a battle; but it was evident that Barclay had discovered and resolutely pursued a more efficient plan. It seems certain, therefore, that Napoleon did entertain thoughts of establishing winter-quarters at Smolensko; of intrenching himself strongly, bringing up his reinforcements and supplies, and in this central point commanding the roads to both the capitals of Russia; waiting proposals of peace, or preparing for a fresh campaign in the spring. The danger of so long an absence from France; the difficulty of holding together an army composed of many different nations; the news of fresh successes achieved by his various leaders in different directions; above all, the impetuosity of his own temperament, decided the point. The only doubt which long existed was on which of the two capitals to advance. By the 24th of August, all was decided, and the French army was in full march towards Moscow.

Sixteen thousand recruits, and a vast multitude of peasants, joined the ranks of Kutusoff. On the 4th of September, the French left Gjatz. The heads of their columns were now more than ever annoyed by troops of Cossacks, and the frequent necessity of making his cavalry deploy against so temporary and random an obstacle, provoked Murat to such a degree that he once clapped spurs to his horse, and dashing alone to the front of their line, halted within a few paces, and waving his sabre with the most indignant and menacing authority, signified his command for them to withdraw. The sudden apparition of this splendid figure in front of their ranks, with the air of one who possessed the power of annihilating them with a blow, so took these barbarians by surprise that they instantly withdrew in vague astonishment. They shortly, however, returned, and received the charge of the Italian chasseurs. Platoff has since related that in this affair, a Russian officer, who had brought a sorcerer with him, was wounded; whereupon he ordered the sorcerer to be soundly drubbed, as he had expressly directed him to turn aside all the balls by his conjurations.

Napoleon now surveyed the whole country from an eminence, and displayed marvellous sagacity in the conclusions he drew as to the positions and intentions of the enemy. Vast numbers of troops were posted in front of their left, and he concluded that this must be the point where their ground was most accessible, and that they had there constructed a formidable redoubt. It was, therefore, necessary to carry this. The attack was general, and the Russian rear-guards were driven back upon Borodino. This curtain being removed, the first Russian redoubt was discovered. The division of Compans attacked it, and the 61st regiment took it at the point of the bayonet. Bagration sent reinforcements, and it was retaken. It was again taken by the 61st, and this occurred three times, till finally, with the loss of half the regiment, it remained in possession of the French. But a neighboring wood was swarming with Russian riflemen, and it required the efforts of Morand, Poniatowski, and Murat, to complete the conquest. Firing, nevertheless, continued till nightfall.

Not a single prisoner had been taken. When Napoleon heard this, he asked many questions impatiently. Were the Russians determined to conquer or die? He was answered, that their priests and chiefs had wrought them up to a state of fanaticism in their love for their country and their abhorrence of their invaders. The Emperor at this fell into meditation, and concluded that a battle of artillery would be the only efficient mode to adopt. On that night, a thin, cold rain, began to fall, and autumn proclaimed its approach by violent gusts of wind. The French slept without fires.

On the morning of the 6th of September, the two armies were again visible to each other, in the same position as the preceding day had left them. This excited a general joy among the French. At last, this desultory, vagrant, and irritating war, in which so many brave men had perished, to so little advantage, seemed about to come to a satisfactory issue. The Emperor rode forth at the earliest dawn, and surveyed the whole front of the enemy’s army, by passing along a succession of eminences that rose between the two antagonist powers.

The Russians were in possession of all the heights, on a semi-circle of two leagues extent from the Mosqua to the old Moscow road. Their centre, commanded by Barclay, formed the salient part of their line; it was protected by the Kalogha, by a ravine, and by two strong redoubts at its extremities. Their right and left receded. Their right rested on the precipitous and rocky bank of the Kalogha, and was defended by deep and muddy ravines. A strong redoubt also crowned the height, which was lined with eighty pieces of cannon. Bagration commanded the left; it was stationed on a less elevated crest than the centre, and having lost the protection of its great redoubt was the most accessible point of their army. Two small hills crowned with redoubts protected its front. It was flanked by a wood, beyond which, on the extreme left, was a corps commanded by Tutchkoff, but stationed at so great a distance as to permit the possibility of manœuvring on the intervening ground without previously overwhelming this detached corps.

Having concluded his observation, Napoleon made his plan. “Eugene,” he said, “should be the pivot; the battle must be begun by the right. As soon as the right, advancing under the protection of the wood, shall have carried the redoubts of the Russian left wing, it must turn to the left, march on the Russian flank, overthrowing and driving back their whole army upon their right wing, and into the Kalogha.” Napoleon was still on the heights, taking a last view of the ground, and considering the details of the grand plan he had formed, when Davoust hastily approached him. The marshal had a proposal of his own to make, by which he expected to turn the enemy’s left in the night, and by surprise. The Emperor listened to him with great attention, but after silently considering the proposition for a few minutes, rejected it, and persisted in his rejection, notwithstanding the confidence with which it was urged by Davoust. He then re-entered his tent, when Murat pertinaciously strove to persuade him that the Russians would again retreat before he commenced his attack. The Emperor in some agitation returned to the heights of Borodino, where, however, every indication of an intention to remain and fight was observable among the Russians. He had taken very few attendants, to avoid being recognized by the enemy’s batteries; but at the moment he was pointing out the signs he had observed to Murat, the discharge of one of their cannon broke the silence of the day;—“for it is frequently the case,” observes Segur, “that nothing is so calm as the day which precedes a great battle.”

The Emperor now returned to his tent to dictate the order of battle. The two armies were nearly equal,—about a hundred and twenty thousand men, and six hundred pieces of cannon on each side. The Russians had the best position, and the additional advantages of speaking the same language, wearing the same uniform, and fighting for a common cause; and of being near, their resources, and in their own country; but they had too many raw recruits in their ranks. The army of Napoleon had just completed a long and harassing march; was made up of many nations, and in the midst of a hostile people; but it was entirely composed of tried soldiers, who had fought their way through many a desperate battle, and held their ranks through every hardship. The proclamation issued by Napoleon was suited to the men and the circumstances. It was grave, simple, and energetic. “Soldiers,” said he, “you have now before you the battle which you have so long desired. From this moment, the victory depends upon yourselves. It is necessary for us; it will bring us abundance, good winter quarters, and a speedy return to our country.” It happened that the Emperor had that day received the portrait of his son from Paris. He himself exhibited the picture in front of his tent.

Kutusoff, on his part, had worked upon the feelings of the Russians by means suited to their condition. He had induced the chief priests or popes of the Greek church, dressed in their richest robes, to walk in splendid procession before his army. They carried the symbols of their religion, and foremost of all a sacred image of the Virgin, withdrawn from Smolensko by a miracle. He then addressed the soldiers on the subject of heaven, “the only country which slaves have left to them,”—and incited the serfs to defend their master’s property in the name of the Great Teacher of universal brotherhood. The whole ceremony worked the effect which he intended, and roused his hearers to the highest pitch of courage and fanaticism.

During the night, the whole French army was stationed in order of battle, and three batteries, of sixty pieces each, were opposed to the Russian redoubts. Poniatowski commanded the right wing, which was destined to commence the attack on the Russian left. The whole of the artillery were to support his attack. Davoust and Ney, supported by Junot, with the Westphalians, and Murat with the cavalry, were in the centre, and ready to precipitate themselves upon the Russians after the opening of the battle by Poniatowski. Prince Eugene, with the army of Italy, and the Bavarian cavalry, formed the left. The Emperor held his guard in reserve. He appeared very unwell, depressed in spirits, and unable to sleep. He was oppressed with fever and excessive thirst, probably the result of over fatigue and anxiety. The news of the defeat of his troops at Salamanca, had just been brought to him by Fabvier, an aid-de-camp of Marmont; but he received the account with great firmness and temper. Present events only seemed to weigh on his mind. He repeatedly called to ascertain the hour, and to inquire whether any sounds indicative of a retreat had been heard in the opposite army. On one occasion his aid-de-camp found him resting his head on his hands, and the few words he said indicated that his thoughts were dwelling on the vanity of human glory. He asked Rapp, whether he thought they should gain the victory? “Undoubtedly,” answered Rapp, “but it will be a bloody one!” On which Napoleon replied, “I know it; but I have eighty thousand men. I shall lose twenty thousand of them, and with sixty thousand shall enter Moscow. The stragglers will there rejoin us, and afterwards the battalions of recruits now on their march, and we shall be stronger than before the battle.” He seemed neither to comprehend the guard nor the cavalry in this calculation. Before daybreak, one of Ney’s officers announced the Russians still in view, and asked leave to begin the attack. These words restored the Emperor. He rose; summoned his officers; and leaving his tent exclaimed, “At last we have them! March!—We will to-day open for ourselves the gates of Moscow!”

It was half-past five in the morning, when Napoleon took his station near the great redoubt which had been taken on the 5th. As the sun rose, he pointed to the east, saying, “There is the sun of Austerlitz!” The artillery were employed in pushing forward the batteries which had been placed too far back. The Russians made no opposition; they seemed fearful of being the first to break the awful silence. While waiting for the sound of Poniatowski’s fire on the right, Napoleon ordered Eugene to take the Tillage of Borodino, on the left. The 106th regiment accordingly opened the attack; gained the village; rushed across the bridge, in the ardor of success, and would have been cut off had not the 92d come up to their relief. During this action, sounds on the right announced that Poniatowski had commenced his attack, and Napoleon immediately gave the signal of battle. “Then, suddenly,” says Segur, “from the previously peaceful plain and silent hills, burst forth flashes of fire and clouds of smoke, which were instantly followed by a multitude of explosions and the whizzing of innumerable bullets which rent the air on every side. In the midst of this thunder, Davoust, with the divisions of Compans and Desaix, and thirty cannon, advanced rapidly upon the first redoubt of the enemy.” The fusillade of the Russians now commenced, and was answered by the French cannon. The French infantry advanced at a quick pace, without firing; but General Compans, who headed the column, fell wounded with the foremost of his men, and the rest halted under the storm of balls. Rapp instantly took the post of Compans, and urged the troops forward at a running pace with charged bayonets, when he also fell. It was the twenty-second wound that he had received. He was conveyed to the Emperor, who exclaimed, “What! Rapp! always wounded! but how are they going on above there?” The aid-de-camp replied, that the guard was wanted to finish the business. “No,” said Napoleon, “I will take good care of that; I will not have that destroyed. I will gain the battle without it.” A third general, who succeeded Rapp, likewise fell; and Davoust himself was struck. At this moment, Ney, with his three divisions of ten thousand men, threw himself into the plain to support Davoust, and the Russian fire was thus diverted. Ney rushed on; Davoust’s columns continued their advance with renewed confidence; and almost at the same time both of the French divisions scaled the heights; overthrew or killed their defenders, and obtained possession of both the redoubts of the Russian left. Napoleon then ordered Murat to charge and complete the victory. The king was on the heights in an instant; but the Russians, reinforced by their second line, now advanced with rapidity to regain their redoubts. The French were taken by surprise in the first disorder of their success, and retreated. Murat, endeavoring in vain to rally the troops, found himself nearly surrounded, and alone amidst the enemy’s cavalry. They were even stretching out their arms to take him prisoner, when he escaped by throwing himself into one of the redoubts. There he found only a few soldiers in utter disorder. They were running backwards and forwards upon the parapet in consternation; but he seized the first weapon he could find, and fought with one hand, while he waved his plumed hat in the air with the other. His presence and his rallying calls to duty soon restored the courage of the men. Ney quickly reformed his divisions; his fire threw the Russians into disorder; Murat was extricated; and the heights reconquered. Murat was no sooner freed from this danger than he furiously and repeatedly charged the enemy at the head of the French cavalry, and in another hour the Russian left wing was entirely defeated.

In the meantime, a dreadful conflict had raged unceasingly on the French left. After Eugene had taken the village of Borodino, he had passed the Kalogha, in front of the great Russian redoubt, which was lined with eighty pieces of cannon, and protected by a ravine. General Bonnamy, at the head of eighteen hundred men of the 30th regiment, carried this strong position by one sudden charge, at six o’clock in the morning. But the Russians recovered from their first panic; and, rallying before their assailants could be supported, they were headed by Kutusoff and Yermdof in person, and made an attack in their turn. Bonnamy’s regiment was surrounded, overwhelmed, and driven from the redoubt, with the loss of its commander and one-third of its numbers. Eugene, however, maintained his station on the sloping sides of the heights for four hours, under a terrific fire, and, until he was relieved by the turn of the battle, when Kutusoff was obliged to defend the left of his centre, now exposed in consequence of the defeat of his left wing by the divisions of Ney, Davoust, and Murat as already detailed. The defence of Kutusoff was then carried on at two points. He poured a tremendous fire, with devastating effect, upon the troops of Ney and Murat, from the heights of the ruined village of Semenowska. It became necessary to carry that position. Maubourg swept the front of it with his cavalry; Friand and Dufour, with their infantry, mounted the acclivity, dislodged the Russians, and secured the position. The Russians had now lost every one off their intrenchments except the great redoubt, on which Prince Eugene was preparing for a decisive attack. He had already sent to Napoleon for assistance, but received the reply, that “he could give him no relief; it depended on him alone to conquer; that the battle was concentrated on that point.” Murat and Ney, exhausted with their efforts, also sent for reinforcements; but Napoleon concluded that the presence of Friand and Maubourg on the heights would maintain them, and he saw that the battle was not yet won. Amidst all the excitement of these repeated and most urgent messages, he steadily refused to compromise his reserve.

The Russians now rallied en masse. Kutusoff commanded all his reserves, and even the Russian guard, to the assistance of his uncovered left. Infantry, artillery, and cavalry, all advanced for one grand and mighty effort. Ney and Murat, with intrepidity and firmness, sustained the rushing tempest. It was no time for them to think of following up their previous successes; all their strength was required to maintain their position. Friand’s soldiers, ranged in front of the armed heights of Semenowska, were swept off in whole ranks by a storm of grape-shot. The survivors were dismayed, and one of their brave commanders ordered a retreat; when Murat suddenly rode up to him, and catching hold of his collar, exclaimed,—“What are you doing?” The colonel, pointing to the ground on which half of his men lay dead or wounded, replied—“You see we can stay here no longer!” Murat hastily rejoined—“I can stay here very well myself!” The colonel looked steadily at him, and calmly replied—“It is right. Soldiers! let us advance to be slain!”

Murat had again sent to Napoleon for assistance, and he now gave it promptly and efficiently. The artillery of the guard were ordered to advance. Eighty pieces of cannon quickly crowned the heights, and discharged their contents at once. The Russian cavalry first charged against this tremendous barrier, but retired in confusion to escape destruction. The infantry exhibited a spectacle of stolid indifference to death, or devotion to their country and their leaders, perhaps unparalleled in the history of war,—affording a picture of the inherent powers of human nature, worthy of study, while most horrible to contemplate in their present misapplication. “The infantry,” says Segur, “advanced in thick masses, in which our balls from the first made wide and deep openings; yet they constantly came on nearer and nearer, when the French batteries redoubling the rapidity of their fire, absolutely mowed them down with grape-shot. Whole platoons fell at once. Their soldiers struggled to preserve their compactness under this terrible fire; and, divided every instant by death, they still closed their ranks over it, trampling it with defiance under their feet. At last they halted, not daring to advance any farther, and yet resolved not to go back; whether they were appalled, and as it were petrified with horror in this tremendous gulph of destruction; or whether it was owing to Bagration being at that time mortally wounded; or whether it might be that a first arrangement being attended with failure, their generals felt incompetent to change it,—not possessing, like Napoleon, the art of moving such vast bodies at once, with unity, harmony, and order. In short, these heavy and stationary masses stood to be crushed and destroyed in detail for two entire hours, without any other movement than that of the falling of the men. It was in truth a deplorable and frightful massacre; and the intelligent valor of the French artillerymen admired the firm, resigned, but infatuated courage of their enemies.” Scott describes the scene to the same effect. “Regiments of peasants, who till that day had never seen war, and who still had no other uniform than their grey jackets, formed with the steadiness of veterans, crossed their brows, and having uttered their national exclamation ‘Gospodee pomiloui nas!’ (God have mercy upon us,) rushed into the thickest of the battle, where the survivors, without feeling fear or astonishment, closed their ranks over their comrades as they fell.”

The problem, of whether that mass of men would have stood to be utterly destroyed to the last individual, was never worked out; for a fresh movement in the French army, bringing upon them a new form of peril, at last restored them to a sense of their human conditions, and put them to flight. Ney extended his right, pushed it rapidly forward, and, seconded by Davoust and Murat, turned the left of the Russian centre, and dispersed them. The battle still raged on the Russian right,—where Barclay, intrenched in the great redoubt, obstinately struggled with Prince Eugene,—and on their extreme left, where Poniatowski had as yet failed to make himself master of the great Moscow road. When another pressing demand for the guard, to complete the destruction of the Russian army, was brought to Napoleon from Ney and Murat, who burned to follow up the retreat of the defeated infantry, he pointed in silence to those two conflicting bodies. The Emperor’s words ought to be satisfactory as to the cause of his refusal to send his reserve, which has occasioned so many animadversions. “The case,” he said, “was not sufficiently extricated and conclusive to induce him yet to part with his reserves; and that he must see more clearly the state of his chess-board.” When Count Daru, at the pressing solicitation of Berthier, repeated the request, and said in a low tone “that on all sides the cry now was that the moment for the guard to act was come,” Napoleon replied, “And if there should be a second battle on the morrow, what shall I have to carry it on with?”