Napoleon halted two weeks at Witepsk. He felt that if he could not find the Russian army, it was necessary to make a conquest that would end the campaign with substantial glory. Now, more than ever the idea of capturing the ancient Moscow entered his head, and he quickly decided to advance. Already full of the plan, which was to crown him with success, he ran to his maps. There he saw nothing but Smolensko and Moscow.

“At the sight of them,” says Hazlitt, “he appeared inflamed by the genius of war. His voice became harsh; his glance fiery, and his whole air stern and fierce. His attendants retired from his presence, through fear as well as respect; but at length his mind was fixed, his determination taken, and his line of march traced out. Immediately after, the tempest was calmed, and having given consistency and utterance to his great conceptions, his features resumed their wonted character of placidity and cheerfulness.” He did all in his power to gain over his officers to his purposes, and redoubled his attentions to his soldiers. The latter soon displayed a spirit of heroic devotion to his person.

The column of advance consisted of one hundred and eighty-five thousand men; not one half of the complement of the vast army which had entered Russia on the 23d of June.

It must be remembered that the great tract of country already passed was now occupied by his army, and necessarily expended a force, amounting perhaps to nearly eighty thousand men; but it is computed that in addition to this diminution of his army engaged in actual service, he had lost one-third of his original numbers by desertion, wounds, or death, either from fatigue or disease, or in the field of battle. Numbers of his hospital wagons, pontoons, and provision wagons, also, were far in the rear. Still, all these considerations gave way before his ardent desire to hurry the war to a termination, and the exertions he made at Witepsk were all with a view to an advance. Several actions, occurred between his generals and the different divisions of the Russian army during the period in which he held his head-quarters at Witepsk. Schwartzenberg conquered Tormazoff at Gorodeczna; Barclay retreated before Ney at Krasnoi; and Oudinot defeated Witgenstein near Polotsk, in a second combat,—the first in which they encountered was indecisive. It was at this moment that Napoleon received news of the conclusion of peace between Russia and Turkey, an event which much more than counterbalanced these successes.

During the first week of August, intelligence reached Witepsk, that the advanced guard, led by Prince Eugene, had obtained some advantages near Suraij; but that, in the centre, at Tukowo, near the Dnieper, Sebastiani had been surprised, and conquered by superior numbers. This information, together with the march of Barclay upon Rudnia, decided Napoleon. He conjectured that the whole Russian army was united between the Dwina and the Dnieper, and was marching against his cantonments. His conjecture proved to be perfectly correct. The Russian commander-in-chief conceiving that the French army at Witepsk lay considerably more dispersed than his own, had resolved to attempt a surprise. The utmost activity now pervaded head-quarters. On the 10th of August, Napoleon was observed to write eight letters to Davoust, and nearly as many to each of his commanders. “If the enemy defends Smolensko,” he said, in one of his letters to Davoust, “as I am tempted to believe he will, we shall have a decisive engagement there, and we cannot have too large a force. Orcha will become the central point of the army. Every thing induces me to believe that there will be a great battle at Smolensko.” Barclay having laid a plan for the surprise of Napoleon, the latter by a daring manoeuvre avoided it, and almost succeeded in an attempt to turn the very same plan of surprise upon his enemy. Allowing the skirmishing to continue on the advanced posts, he changed his line of operations, and turning the left of the Russians instead of their right, which was expected by Barclay, he gained the rear of their army, and endeavored to occupy Smolensko, and act upon their lines of communication with Moscow. To effect this, he had withdrawn his forces from Witepsk and the line of the Dwina, with equal skill and rapidity, and throwing four bridges across the Dnieper, made a passage for Ney, Eugene Beauharnais, and Davoust, with Murat at the head of two large bodies of cavalry. They were supported by Poniatowski and Junot, who advanced in different routes. The attack was led by Ney and Murat, who bore down all opposition till they reached Krasnoi, where a battle was fought on the 14th of August. He had thus suddenly changed his line of operations from the Dwina to the Dnieper, and the manoeuvre has been the subject of much admiration and criticism among French and Russian tacticians.

The Russian general, Newerowskoi, who commanded at Krasnoi, finding himself attacked by a body of infantry stronger than his own, and two large bodies of cavalry besides, retreated upon the road to Smolensko. This road being favorable for the action of cavalry, he was hotly pressed by Murat, who led the pursuit in full splendor of attire, and with all the reckless valor which characterised him. He also dispatched some of his light squadrons to alarm if not attack the front of the retreating corps, while he made furious onsets upon their flank and rear. Newerowskoi, however, effected a skilful and gallantly-conducted retreat, availing himself of a double row of trees on the high road to Smolensko, by which he evaded the charges of the cavalry, and was enabled to pour in a heavy fire. He made good his retreat into Smolensko, with the loss of four hundred men.

The day on which the combat at Krasnoi was fought, happened to be the Emperor’s birth-day. There was no intention of keeping it in these immense solitudes, and under the present circumstances of peril and anxiety. There could be no heartfelt festival without a complete victory. Murat and Ney, however, on giving in the report of their recent success, could not refrain from complimenting the Emperor on the anniversary of his nativity. A salute from a hundred pieces of artillery was now heard, fired according to their orders. Napoleon, with a look of displeasure, observed, that in Russia it was important to be economical of French powder. But he was informed in reply, that it was Russian powder, and had been taken the night before. The idea of having his birth-day celebrated at the expense of the Russians made Napoleon smile. Prince Eugene also paid his compliments to the Emperor on this occasion; but was cut short by Napoleon saying, “Every thing is preparing for a battle. I will gain that, and then we will see Moscow.”

While Newerowskoi was intrenched in Smolensko, the generals, Barclay and Bagration, who were stationed towards Inkowo, between the Dnieper and Lake Kasplia, hesitated whether to attack the French army, which they believed to be still in their front. But when they heard of the situation of Newerowskoi, the question of forcing the French lines was superseded by the necessity of hurrying to the rescue of Smolensko. Murat had already commenced an attack on the city. Ney had attempted to carry the citadel by a coup de main, but was repulsed with the loss of two or three hundred men, and was himself slightly wounded. He withdrew to an eminence on the river’s bank, to examine the various positions, when on the other side of the Dnieper he thought he could discern some large masses of troops in motion. He hastened to inform the Emperor. Napoleon was presently on the spot, and distinguished, amidst clouds of dust, long dark columns which seemed electric with the intermittent glancing of innumerable arms. These masses were advancing with rapidity. It was Barclay and Bagration at the head of a hundred and twenty thousand men. At this sight, Napoleon clapped his hands for joy, exclaiming,—“At last I have them!” The moment that was to decide the fate of Russia or the French army, had apparently arrived.

Napoleon passed along the line, and assigned to each commander his station, leaving an extensive plain unoccupied in front, between himself and the Dnieper. This he offered to the enemy as a field of battle. The French army in this position was backed by defiles and precipices; but Napoleon had no anxiety about retreat, so certain felt he of victory.

Instead, however, of accepting the challenge to a decisive battle, Barclay and Bagration were seen next morning in full retreat towards Elnia; a movement which was so bitterly disappointing to Napoleon that he for some time refused to credit the fact. Various plans were contemplated by the Emperor for partially cutting off their retreat, but could not be brought into operation. He instantly ordered the storming of Smolensko, inferring that it should be considered as a mere passage through which he would force his way to Moscow. It appears that Murat was very anxious to dissuade him from this attempt, but finding his efforts in vain, the King of Naples was so exasperated that he rode in front of the most formidable of the Russian batteries while it was in full play upon the French; and having dismounted, remained standing immoveable, while the balls were cutting down men on all sides. The storming proceeded with success, except in the attack made by Ney upon the citadel, which repulsed him with loss. One battalion happening to present itself in flank before the Russian batteries, lost the entire row of a company by a single ball, which thus killed twenty-two men at the same instant. In the mean time, the main army, on an amphitheatre of hills, surveyed in anxiety the struggles of their comrades in arms, and occasionally applauded them with loud clapping hands as in a theatre, while they made good any fresh onset, dashing through a maze of balls and grape-shot which shadowed the air.

The troops were drawn off as night came on, and Napoleon retired to his tent. Count Lobau, having obtained possession of the ditch, ordered some shells to be thrown into the city, to dislodge the enemy. Almost immediately were seen rising thick and black columns of smoke, with occasional gleams of light; then sparks and burning flakes; and at length pyramids of flame, which ascended from every part. These distinct and distant fires soon became united in one vast conflagration, which rose in whirling and destructive grandeur,—hung over nearly the whole of Smolensko, and consumed it amidst ominous and awful crashes. This disaster, which Count Lobau very naturally attributed to his shells, though it was the work of the Russians, threw him into great consternation. Napoleon, seated in front of his tent, viewed the terrific spectacle in silence. Neither the cause nor the result could as yet be ascertained, and the night was passed under arms. About three in the morning, a subaltern officer, belonging to Davoust, had ventured to the foot of the wall, and scaled it, without giving the least alarm. Emboldened by the silence which reigned around him, he made his way into the city, when suddenly hearing a number of voices speaking with the Sclavonian accent, he gave himself up for lost. But at this instant, the level rays of the sun discovered these supposed enemies to be the Poles of Poniatowski. They had been the first to penetrate the city, which Barclay had just abandoned to the flames. Smolensko having been reconnoitred, the army entered within its walls. The remarks of Segur on this occasion are very fine:—“They passed over the smoking and bloody ruins in martial order, and with all the pomp of military music and displayed banners; triumphant over deserted ruins, and the solitary witness of their own glory. A spectacle without spectators; a victory scarcely better than fruitless; a glory steeped in blood; and of which the smoke that surrounded them, and that seemed indeed to be the only conquest, was the best and most characteristic emblem.”

Here Napoleon found, as at the Niemen, at Wilna, and at Witepsk, that phantom of victory which had decoyed him onward, had again eluded his grasp; and with mute and gloomy rage he walked along the city over heaps of smoking ruins and the naked bodies of the slain. He sat down in front of the citadel, on a mat at the door of a cottage, and here he held forth for an hour on the cowardice of Barclay, while bullets from the citadel walls were whizzing about his head. He dwelt upon the fine field for action he had offered him, the disgrace it was to have delivered up the keys of Old Russia without a struggle; the advantages he had given him in a strong city to support his efforts or to receive him in case of need. Without taking the slightest notice of the bullets from the Russian riflemen in the citadel, he thus continued to sit and vent his passionate disappointment, uttering the most bitter sarcasms upon the Russian general and army. “He was not yet in the secret,” laconically observes Hazlitt, “of the new Scythian tactics of defending a country by burning its capitals.” At length, he remounted his horse. One of his marshals remarked, as soon as he was out of hearing, that “if Barclay had been so very wrong in refusing battle, the Emperor would not have taken so much time to convince us of it.” The truth was, he had no patience with the Russians for not staying—to be beaten.

The Russians still retained the suburbs of Smolensko, on the right bank of the Dnieper. During the night, Napoleon caused the bridges to be repaired, and a heavy cannonade to be kept up; and by the morning, the suburb had been deserted after being first set on fire. Ney and Junot immediately pressed forward through the burning labyrinth, and halted on the spot at which the roads to Petersburg and Moscow diverge, uncertain in which direction to continue the pursuit. At length, the French scouts brought information that Barclay had retreated in the direction of Moscow, taking at first a circuitous route through marshy and woody defiles. Ney came up with the rear guard at Stubna, where he dislodged them from a strong position, without difficulty; and next at Valoutina, where a desperate conflict took place, in which thirty thousand men were successively engaged on either side. Encumbered as he was by a long line of artillery and baggage, and hard pressed by Ney, Barclay was in extreme danger of losing his whole army, but he was saved by the unaccountable remissness of Junot, who had absolutely got into his rear, yet suspended his attack. Junot was a favorite with Napoleon, but he lost his command for this indecision. It was transferred to Rapp, who had just joined the army. The action had been sanguinary, and among other severe losses, the French general Gudin was mortally wounded. Napoleon visited the field of battle, which would probably have been a decisive one had he been present to direct the manoeuvres. The soldiers were ranged round the dead bodies of French and Russians which covered the ground; the ghastly nature of their wounds, and the wrenched and twisted bayonets scattered about, bearing witness to the violence of the conflict. Napoleon felt that the time was come when his men required the support both of praise and rewards. Accordingly, he suppressed his chagrin at the indecisive result of the victory. His looks were never more impressive and affectionate. He declared this battle was the most brilliant exploit in their military history. In his rewards, he was munificent. The division of Gudin alone received eighty-seven decorations and promotions. He watched over and secured the care of the wounded, and left the field amidst the enthusiastic acclamations of his soldiers. He then returned to Smolensko. His carriage jolted over the grisly ruins of the fight, and his eyes were met on every side by all that is odious and horrible in fields of battle. Long lines of wounded were dragging themselves, or being borne along, and retarded his progress; when he entered the ruined city, carts were conveying out of sight the streaming heap of amputated limbs. Smolensko seemed one vast hospital, and its groans of anguish prevailed over and obliterated the glories and acclamations of Valoutina.

The situation of the French army had now become grave and critical. There could no longer be a doubt of the plan which Barclay was pursuing, and disastrous apprehensions crowded upon Napoleon’s mind. The burning of Smolensko was evidently one result of a deep laid design; it could not be attributed to accident.

What must have been his reflections on the evening of this disastrous day, when, with a burning city for a camp-fire, he at length discovered the settled policy of his enemy—the policy, namely, by which Robert Bruce, in his last will, directed his countrymen how to conquer the ever-invading English—the policy by which Francis the First baffled his great rival, Charles the Fifth, in his attempt to conquer France—the policy of laying waste the country, burning the cities, retreating without a pitched battle and leaving famine, cold and disease to destroy the invading force?

Whatever misfortune awaited him, the Emperor was resolved to meet it without delay. He really dared fate to do its worst.

NAPOLEON AT WIAZMA. Page 317.