Napoleon had left the ruins of Moscow, like a funeral pyre, smouldering, behind him, and taken up the line of march for Kalouga. He had with him a hundred thousand effective men—troops in whom he still could place the deepest confidence. But the first snow had fallen! The ghostly terror of a Russian winter hovered over the army, and vexed the dreams of the Emperor. In a weaver’s hut, where he passed the night of the 24th of October, he heard that Kutusoff had anticipated him, and had taken up a position upon the road to Kalouga, which could not be assailed; that Prince Eugene, with only eighteen thousand troops had fought a bloody battle with fifty thousand Russians, and gained a dear but glorious victory. In the early part of the night, when the faithful troops were shivering round their fires, and the Emperor was seated in a comfortless hovel, divided into two apartments by a tattered cloth, came the intrepid Marshal Bessieres, with the terrible intelligence. The Emperor looked pale and worn with anxiety.

“Did you see rightly?” he exclaimed. “Are you sure? Will you vouch for what you say?”

“All that I have told you, sire, is truth,” replied the marshal, calmly.

Napoleon crossed his arms upon his breast, his head fell, and for a few moments he seemed lost in thought. Bessieres respectfully retired. The Emperor seemed greatly agitated, but nothing except restless actions betrayed his feverish state of mind. He lay down and arose incessantly, called for his attendants, and when they came, had nothing to say to them. About four o’clock in the morning, while the camp-fires were still burning, the Prince D’Aremberg came into the hovel, and informed him that a horde of Cossacks, under cover of the night, and the woods, were gliding between him and the advanced posts. The Emperor, however, seemed to pay no attention to the intelligence, and as soon as the sun was above the horizon, mounted his horse and proceeded towards Malo-Yaroslavetz.

In crossing the plain, a confused clamor startled the imperial party, and suddenly the Cossack Murat, Platoff, led his wild horsemen among the baggage and fires of the army, and overturning every thing in their course, they pressed onward with wild hourras. Rapp seized the Emperor’s bridle, and exclaimed,—

“It is they! turn back!”

Napoleon’s pride would not stoop to a retreat. His hand moved to his sword. Berthier and the grand equerry followed his example, and placing themselves on the left of the wood, the little party awaited the approach of the Cossacks. They came on rapidly, and were within forty paces of the Emperor. Rapp was wounded by one of their spears. About twenty horsemen and chasseurs then attacked the horde, and by their desperate bravery saved the Emperor. The cavalry of the guard then came up, and drove the Cossacks across the plain. The Emperor halted until the plain was cleared, and then rode forward to Malo-YaroslavetzMalo-Yaroslavetz, in the neighborhood of which the main body of the army encamped. The Emperor occupied the afternoon in reconnoitering the position of Kutusoff, and as the shades of a sombre evening fell, returned to his head-quarters, the wretched hovel of an artisan. There he was joined by Murat, Berthier, Davoust, Bessieres, and the heroic Prince Eugene, who came to give Napoleon an account of the action of the day before. A cheerful fire was kindled on the hearth of the lowly hut, and an emperor, two kings, and three marshals sat down to the rough table. Without, the camp-fires of the soldiers were blazing; but the fierce wind was already blowing the requiem of the army. The Emperor sat, with his head resting in his hands, which concealed his features. Eugene was the first to speak.

“It is to be hoped that we shall not have many such conflicts as that of yesterday, sire, or however glorious the results, we shall only have a miserable remnant of the grand army to lead back to France.”

“But it was a glorious battle, Prince; was it not? Tell me of it yourself,” said the Emperor, without removing his hands from his face.

“Sire, it was briefly thus,” replied Eugene. “On the night of the 23d, Delzons and his division were in possession of this place. At four in the morning, his bivouacs were surprised by Kutusoff. I heard the firing at three leagues distance, and hastened to his relief. As I drew near, a vast amphitheatre rose before me. The river Lonja marked its foot; from the opposite height, a cloud of Russian sharp-shooters and their artillery poured down their fire on Delzons. On the plain beyond, Kutusoff’s whole army advanced rapidly by the Lectazowo road. A severe and desperate conflict ensued. Delzons and his brother were killed. We were enabled to maintain our ground by the wise manoeuvres of Guilleminot, who threw a hundred grenadiers into a churchyard, in the walls of which they made holes for their muskets. Five times the Russians attempted to pass, and five times they were thrown into disorder and repulsed by a well-directed and murderous fire. The whole day the struggle wavered, and many times, I thought our troops could not be kept to the ground. But the fourteenth and fifteenth divisions held the Russians at bay, and maintained the bridge which was our road to retreat, against all assault. At length, being reduced to my last reserve, I came into battle myself, and by exerting myself to the utmost, rallied the troops and once more carried them up the heights. The Russians, wearied out, fell back, and concentrated themselves on the Kalouga road, between the woods and this place. We gained the victory, but we have lost many brave men, whom, in our present situation, we cannot with safety spare.”

During this recital, Napoleon’s eyes kindled with enthusiasm, and when Eugene had finished, he exclaimed,—

“Then you, Prince, with eighteen thousand men, huddled together in the bottom of a ravine, defeated fifty thousand Russians, posted above your heads, and seconded by every advantage which a town built on a steep acclivity could present! I have been over the ground, and know your difficulties, and appreciate the nature of your triumphs. Prince, the glory of this victory belongs entirely to you.”

The Prince shook his head,—

“Sire, the French troops are brave—courage alone won this field. But leaving that affair, the question is, whether we shall march upon Smolensk by way of Kalouga, Medyn or Mojaisk.”

“That is easily settled,” said Murat, quickly. “The Russians are nothing. Let us pursue the route to Kalouga, and cut our way through them.”

“Tut—tut! King of Naples, you speak rashly!” said Napoleon, quickly. “The course you counsel is the violent impulse of your heart.”

“Entirely unwise!” said Bessieres. “The King of Naples is governed by his all-daring temper.”

“With deference, Sire,” said the stern Davoust, “I would recommend that we proceed to Medwysick. We can reach that point without loss; and permit me to remark, sire, that our present circumstances, every man is of almost indispensable value.”

“But,” interrupted Murat, “it is certain that we shall have to lose men; and it is better to lose them now, in beating the Russians, than to drop them upon a march, without having effected any thing. Marshal Davoust is ever recommending timid, half-way measures.”

A quarrel between Murat and Davoust had occurred some time previous, and it was only by the interposition of the Emperor himself, that bloodshed had been prevented. They were always ready to renew the contest.

“Timid and half-way measures!” exclaimed the harsh voice of Davoust. “I recommend the measures of a general who cares for the safety of his army, as well as victory. The King of Naples counsels like a mere hot-headed, inexperienced conscript.”

Here Napoleon, raising his head, extinguished all this fire by saying that “we had exhibited temerity enough, already; that we had done but too much for glory, and it was now high time to give up thinking of any thing but how to save the rest of the army.”

Bessieres, either because his pride revolted at the idea of being put under the command of the King of Naples, or from a desire to preserve uninjured the cavalry of the guard, which he had formed, and for which he was answerable to Napoleon, and which he exclusively commanded, then ventured to add, that “neither the army nor even the guard had sufficient spirit left for such efforts. It was already said in both, that, as the means of conveyance were wholly inadequate, henceforth the victor, if overtaken, would fall a prey to the vanquished; that of course every wound would be mortal. Murat would therefore be but feebly seconded. And in what a position! its strength had just been but too well demonstrated. Against what enemies! had they not remarked the field of the previous day’s battle, and with what fury the Russian recruits, only just armed and clothed, there fought and fell!” The marshal concluded by giving his opinion in favor of retreat, which the Emperor approved by his silence.

The Prince of Eckmuhl then immediately said that, “as a retreat had been decided upon, he proposed that it should be by Medyn and Smolensk.” But Murat here interrupted him; and, whether from enmity, or from that discouragement which usually succeeds the rejection of a rash measure, he declared himself astonished “that any one should dare propose so imprudent a step to the Emperor. Had Davoust sworn the destruction of the army? Would he have so long and so heavy a column trail along in utter uncertainty, without guides, and on an unknown track, within reach of Kutusoff, presenting its flank to all the attacks of the enemy? Would he, Davoust, defend it? When in our rear Borowsk and Vereria would lead us without danger to Mojaisk, why reject that safe route? There provisions must have been already collected, there everything was known to us, and we could not be misled by any traitor.”

At these words, Davoust, burning with a rage which he could scarcely repress, replied that “he proposed a retreat through a fertile country, by an untouched, plentiful, and well-supplied route, where the villages were still standing, and by the shortest road, that the enemy might not be able to cut us off, as on the route by Mojaisk to Smolensk, recommended by Murat. And what a route! a desert of sand and ashes, where convoys of wounded would increase our embarrassment, where we should meet with nothing but ruins, traces of blood, skeletons, and famine!

“Moreover, though he deemed it his duty to give his opinion when it was asked, he was ready to obey orders contrary to it, with the same zeal as if they were consonant with his suggestions; but that the Emperor alone had a right to impose silence on him, and not Murat, who was not his sovereign, and never should be!”

The quarrel growing warm, Bessieres and Berthier interposed. As for the Emperor, still absorbed and in the same attitude, he appeared insensible to what was passing. At length he broke up the council with the words, “Well, gentlemen, I will decide.”

“Enough, it is well, sirs. I will decide,” said Napoleon calmly, and the King of Naples resumed his seat, biting his lips from the effects of passion. “Sirs,” continued the Emperor, “I decide to retreat.” Here he paused, as if such a decision was costing him a dreadful effort. “I decide to retreat by way of Mojaisk. We cannot afford to fight, and that is the road which will lead us most speedily from the enemy.” This decision was extremely distasteful to Murat; but not more so than it was to the Emperor, who, after he had announced it, looked as though he wished that it had not been uttered. However, the resolution, fatal as it proved, was taken, and nothing could induce the Emperor to revoke it. Had he but known, that at the moment when this decision was made, Kutusoff, stunned by the defeat at Malo-Yaroslavetz, was retiring with his forces by the bridge over the Oka, offering a fair mark for the French, he might have changed his design, and delivered such a crushing blow to the enemy, as would have secured his retreat unmolested. But this knowledge came not to the Emperor’s mind; and as he stretched himself for repose amid his faithful generals, and by the side of the blazing fire, he had nothing to relieve the prospect of a disastrous retreat.