¹ Generally called by English historians the battle of Borodino. – Trans.

² A village seventy miles from Moscow, on the Kaluga, a tributary of the Moskwa, after which river the French name the battle. – Trans.

The enemy perceiving this movement sent considerable forces to defend the approaches to the redoubt. General Compans began his attack by ordering all his artillery to bombard the redoubt with a view to breaking down as far as possible the earthworks and palisades of the entrenchment; and when he thought them sufficiently injured for an assault to be practicable, he ordered that assault to be made by the 57th Regiment,¹ led by Colonel Charrière, and sent two other regiments to its support. The first attack was repulsed, and General Compans was himself wounded in the left arm. He had, however, scarcely had his wound dressed, before he ordered a second assault. This too was repulsed, and Compans, irritated at his second failure and determined to succeed, now ordered a vigorous onslaught to be made on the rear of the redoubt, whilst he and Colonel Charrière at the head of the 57th Regiment scaled the breach side by side. This time the redoubt was won, and at nine o’clock the enemy’s firing ceased, leaving the French in possession of the outwork. It had already been dark for two hours, and we had all been very anxious as to the result of the attack, the fury of the combatants seeming to increase with the difficulties to be surmounted, but at last we knew that all was well for our side. That same night Colonel Charrière was made a General. He had taken seven guns, but his fine regiment had lost many men, whilst the 61st lost an entire battalion. The next day the Emperor, who wished to reward all the brave fellows who had taken part in the assault, asked the Colonel of the 61st, ‘But where is your third battalion?’ ‘Sire,’ was the melancholy reply, ‘it is in the redoubt.’

¹ This regiment was surnamed ‘The Terrible’ in the Italian campaign. – Trans.

The tents of the Emperor and Major-General Prince Berthier had been pitched on the plateau from which we had looked down on the struggle, and we passed the night there in the centre of the square formed by the encampment of the Imperial Guard.

At the first gleam of dawn on the 6th the Emperor started on horseback with Prince Berthier, Prince Eugène, and myself, but without further escort, to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, and we rode all along the front lines, drawn up on high ground at right angles with the Moscow road and separated from us only by the winding stream of the Kaluga, with its muddy banks, which flows into the Moskwa at Borodino. Everywhere our vedettes were barely a pistol-shot distance from those of the enemy, but neither fired on the other, both sides being probably too exhausted by the struggle of the evening before to feel any further irritation against each other. The Emperor availed himself of this fact to examine in detail the best way of getting at the Russians, and I was not without anxiety on account of his exposing himself as he did, for he might easily have been carried off by a few men hiding at the entrance to a ravine at the base of some fortified height, or even by some of the pickets of the centre of the enemy’s line. Once, indeed, Napoleon, who was marching in front, came suddenly upon a patrol of twenty Cossacks some four paces only from our party. Thinking themselves surprised, they were already turning their horses to escape, when seeing our small numbers galloping away from them they pursued us for some hundred yards. Fortunately the fleetness of our horses and the protection of some fences saved us from the embarrassing predicament. Before returning to camp after this reconnaissance, the Emperor ordered me to ride carefully along the enemy’s lines once more, to make a sketch of them, and to bring him also a few views of the ground occupied. I passed the rest of the day in performing this honourable task, which led to my making a very exact study of the locality. The Emperor duly received my sketches, examined them, and seemed satisfied with them. When he got back to headquarters he had told Bacler d’Albe, chief of the topographical engineers, to do the same thing as I had done, and his survey of the Russian positions was made before the evening.

The enemy’s line was protected by well-chosen and formidable positions, supplemented by redoubts and redans, the firing from which would cross each other. The village of Gorka above the mill of Borodino was entrenched throughout, and immense abattis of forest trees, presenting their sharp points to the cavalry, stretched far beyond Gorka along the Moscow road. This strongly fortified position must have greatly encouraged the Russians; but what added yet more to their confidence, and gave them an immense moral advantage over us, was the fact that they had plenty of provisions and fodder, and neither men nor horses had suffered from famine. Moreover, as they were always falling back upon their reserves, their numbers daily increased. Only twenty-six leagues from Moscow, they were sure of reinforcements and help of every kind, and their General, knowing the superstitious piety of his soldiers, took care to rouse their fanaticism by making the war appear to be one in defence of their religion. He had the image of a certain canonised bishop, which it was said had been miraculously rescued from the impious hands of the French, carried through the ranks with all the pomp due to some sacred relic. It excited the greatest enthusiasm wherever it appeared, and we could hear the shouts of joy with which its passage was greeted by the 160,000 Russians making up the army.

Very different were the sentiments of the French. Not nearly so numerous as the Russians,¹ they were yet full of confidence in the genius of the great man commanding them, and thought of nothing but the joy of entering as conquerors the ancient city of the Czars, where their labours were to end and they were to reap the reward of all their toil. Imbued with this idea, they one and all donned their best uniforms to take part in the battle which was to be the crown of their glory.

¹ The Russians numbered altogether 162,000, and the French 140,000, at Borodino. – Trans.
 

About seven o’clock on the morning of the 7th the signal for the attack was at last given, and immediately 300 pieces of cannon on our side opened fire on an equal number of Russian howitzers and guns, the projectiles from which ploughed through our ranks with a hissing noise such as it is impossible to describe. As ill luck would have it, our reserves at the beginning of the struggle, even those of the cavalry, were rather too near the fighting, and, either from vainglory or more likely from fear of giving a false impression to the enemy, they would not retire the few hundred paces needed to place them in a position less exposed to useless danger, so that we had the grief of seeing thousands of gallant cavaliers and fine horses struck down, though it was of the utmost importance to us to preserve them.

The Emperor had announced that he would establish his head-quarters on the redoubt taken the evening before, and as a matter of fact he passed a great part of the day on that elevated position, sitting on the steep bank of the exterior slope, and following all the movements of the troops with the glass he kept in his hand. His Guard was posted behind him on the amphitheatre formed by the redoubt and its surroundings, and all these picked men, curbing with difficulty their eager desire to take part in the fighting and help to secure the victory, presented a most imposing appearance.

General Compans had the honour of being the first to lead his infantry to exchange fire with the Russians. He was ordered to attack the enemy’s centre on the left of the Passavero wood, and to reach it he had to scale the heights and take the redoubts which barred his passage. The 57th Regiment led the way with a dash, carrying all before it, the battalions charging the first redoubt at the double, where a hand-to-hand conflict lasted for nearly an hour. The rest of the division supported the movement, and the enemy returning with considerable reinforcements to try to retake the redoubt, the ditches were in a few minutes choked up with thousands of killed or wounded Russians. The Gérard and Friant divisions, meanwhile, supported by the cavalry, had attacked other redoubts on the right of that assailed by General Compans.

All this time the formidable artillery of the redoubts in the centre of the enemy’s line was working such fearful havoc in our ranks, that it became of the utmost importance to take the largest of these redoubts and spike its guns. The sappers of the engineers, therefore, beneath a hail of grapeshot, flung several little trestle bridges across the Kaluga stream protecting the base of the ridge, and the Morand division crossed the ravine with their aid and managed to get at the enemy. The first brigade of this division, led by General Bonamy, scaled the height and the entrenchments, deployed successfully in the redoubt, and killed the artillerymen at their guns. But the Russians came to the rescue in great force, and General Bonamy, after receiving seventeen bayonet wounds, fell disabled, and as he was taken prisoner he had the grief of seeing all his men either killed or driven back. The remainder of the Morand division was only able to protect the retreat of the few who escaped in disorder.

The Delzons division, belonging to the Viceroy’s corps, which was on our left, meanwhile vigorously attacked and took possession of the fortified village of Borodino. Prince Eugène, who had, of course, not foreseen that this attack would succeed beyond his hopes, had ordered nothing more than the taking of Borodino; but the 106th Regiment, carried away by success, was able to cross the Kaluga by the mill bridge as the Russians had done before it, and pursued the enemy to the heights beyond, scaling them as rapidly as did the retreating forces.

General Plauzonne, however, seeing that the intrepid soldiers of the 106th Regiment were allowing themselves to be separated and were not waiting for the rear of their column to come up, ordered them to halt so as to offer a combined resistance to a Russian column which was corning down to crush them. At that very moment, however, General Plauzonne was killed, and in the momentary confusion into which his death threw his men, the Russians swept down on them and very few of the brave fellows escaped. The 92nd Regiment hastened up to their aid, and in spite of our great loss and of every effort made by the Russians to retake Borodino, it remained in our hands.

Marshal Ney, meanwhile, was gaining ground on the heights above the village, bristling though they were with redoubts and batteries, the artillery fire from which mowed down our ranks. It was grand to see Marshal Ney standing quietly on the parapet of one of these redoubts directing the combatants who were hurrying up below him, and never losing sight of them except when he was enveloped in clouds of smoke. A few paces from where Marshal Ney was standing, the gallant General Montbrun, of the cavalry, was carried off by a ball.

Marshal Davout, Prince of Eckmühl, continued to defend the redoubts which he had taken, and which the enemy never ceased to try to regain. I was ordered to take the distressing news to him that Prince Poniatowski, who was manœuvring on the right, had met with such terrible obstacles in the form of dense woods and swampy marshes that he could not, as arranged, fall upon the rear of the Russian left, and so harass it as to aid the first French corps by a powerful diversion. At this moment, in fact, the Marshal’s position was most critical; for although the cavalry under King Murat occupied the whole of the plain before him, and made a series of charges on that of the enemy with the happiest results, the fire from the Russian artillery was making Davout’s post all but untenable. He had just been wounded in the arm, but he remained in command of his division. His chief of the staff, General Romœuf, was pierced by a ball as he was speaking to us. The Marshal, greatly put out at having to make an isolated assault in front on a position which he thought ought to be attacked simultaneously on three sides, said to me angrily, ‘It’s a confounded shame to make me take the bull by the horns.’ I hastened to go and tell King Murat of the critical position of Davout, and he at once ordered several masses of cavalry to unite for the support of General Friant, to whom I carried the order to take Seminskoë. All of a sudden I now saw the plain covered with masses of cavalry, Russian, Cossack, French, and that of our allies, engaged in a desperate mêlée, and after half an hour’s struggle our side remained masters of the ground.

It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when I took this good news to the Emperor.

The Russian artillery from the big central redoubt ¹ continued, however, to work terrible havoc in our ranks, which had advanced so boldly within range of it, and the Emperor saw the great importance of getting possession of it. Orders were therefore sent to General Gérard, whose infantry was at the base of the height on which was the redoubt, to take it by assault, whilst King Murat was instructed to support Gérard’s attack with a numerous body of cavalry. The manœuvre was admirably executed, and our infantry, supported by Caulaincourt’s cuirassiers and pontonniers, penetrated into the entrenchments.

¹ What Lejeune calls the grand redoubt was a loopholed fort, armed with eighty guns, and its capture by a cavalry column was a feat such as had never before been achieved. – Trans.
 

General Kutusoff, however, who looked upon this redoubt as the key of his position, immediately pointed 100 pieces of cannon upon us, hoping by that means to drive us back, whilst a considerable column of picked Russian grenadiers, who had been hidden at the bottom of a ravine behind the redoubt, advanced to attack us. In the struggle the wind, which was blowing strongly, raised clouds of dust, which mingled with the smoke from the guns was whirled up in dense masses, enveloping and almost suffocating men and horses. When at last the thick clouds, augmented every moment by the fury of the combat raging on every side, rolled away, we found that the column of Russian grenadiers had been driven back into the ravine, and that we were masters of the redoubt, where the artillerymen had been cut down at their guns. Thirty pieces of cannon also remained in our hands, the violence and rapidity of our cavalry charge having been such that the enemy had not had time to drag them away. Our victory had, however, been dearly bought, for Caulaincourt had been killed at the gorge of the redoubt, as he led the charge.¹

¹ Caulaincourt had taken the place of General Montbrun, who was killed just as the assault was about to commence. – Trans.

The Emperor, satisfied with all that had already been accomplished by General Friant and the other divisions under Davout, now thought the right moment had come to send his whole Guard to complete the victory, as yet only begun, when a timid counsellor remarked to him, ‘Allow me to point out that your Majesty is at the present moment 700 leagues from Paris, and at the gates of Moscow.’² The reflection that he was so near Moscow seems to have greatly cheered the Emperor by calling up a picture in his mind of his entry into that town with all the pomp of a conqueror,³ and, turning to me, he said, ‘Go and find Sorbier, and tell him to take all the artillery of my Guard to the position occupied by General Friant, to which you will guide him. He is to extend sixty guns at right angles with the enemy’s line, so as to crush him by a flank lire; Murat will support him.’

² This remark is said by Marbot and others to have been made by Marshal Bessières, but without the words and at the gates of Moscow. – Trans.

³ The Emperor’s change of purpose with regard to his Guard is quite differently explained by other eye-witnesses of the battle, who attribute his unwillingness to send them into action to the fact that he would need them all to make good his retreat from Russia, should that retreat become necessary. – Trans.

I galloped off to General Sorbier, who was a very hasty man, and he, incredulous of my message, did not give me time to explain it, but broke in on what I was saying impatiently with the words, ‘We ought to have done that an hour ago!’ He then ordered the artillery to follow him at a trot. The imposing mass of the artillery at once rolled away with a resounding clank of chains into the valley, crossed it, and ascended the gentle slope covered with the entrenchments we had taken from the enemy, where they broke into a gallop to gain the space necessary for extension by the left flank. In the distance I could see King Murat caracoling about in the midst of the mounted skirmishers well in advance of his own cavalry, and paying far less attention to them than to the numerous Cossacks who, recognising him by his bravado, as well as by his plumed helmet, and a short Cossack mantle made of a goat’s skin with long hair resembling their own, surrounded him in the hope of taking him prisoner, shouting, ‘Houra! houra! Murat!’ But none of them dared even venture within lance’s length of him, for they all knew that the King’s sword would skilfully turn aside every weapon, and with the speed of lightning pierce to the heart the boldest amongst his enemies. I galloped up to Murat to give him the Emperor’s instructions, and he left the skirmishers to make his dispositions for supporting General Sorbier. The Cossacks took his withdrawal for retreat or flight, and followed us. My horse, which was not so fleet as that of the King, for he was mounted on a beautiful fawn-coloured Arab, caught its feet in the drag-rope of a gun which was making its wheel of a quarter circle at a gallop. The animal, though hurt and shaken by the shock and fall, struggled up again at once without throwing me, and galloped furiously to where General Sorbier was standing in the centre of the terrible battery, now beginning to pour out volleys of grapeshot, shells, and balls on the enemy’s lines, which it enfiladed, every discharge telling.

The enemy’s cavalry made many useless efforts to destroy our line of guns. We remained masters of the fortified position, which the Russians had looked upon as impregnable, and I went to the Emperor to report on what had taken place.

The day was already far advanced. We had dearly bought the advantages we had gained, nor was there as yet anything to indicate that the struggle would not be renewed on the morrow. When I got back to the Emperor he had already been able to judge of the good results achieved by the artillery of his Guard, and he was still hesitating whether, as many amongst us wished, he should follow up this success with a grand charge from the whole of the brilliant cavalry of the Guard. Just at this moment a Russian lieutenant-general who had been taken prisoner was brought to the Emperor. After having talked to him very politely for a few minutes, the Emperor said to some one standing by, ‘Give me his sword.’ A Russian sword was at once brought, and the Emperor, taking it, graciously offered it to the Russian general with the words, ‘I return your sword.’ It so happened, however, that it was not the prisoner’s own sword, and, not understanding the honour the Emperor meant to do him, the Russian general refused to receive the weapon. Napoleon, astonished at this want of tact in a general, shrugged his shoulders, and turning to us said, loud enough for the General to hear him, ‘Take the fool away!’

The battle now seemed to be approaching its close. The noise of the firing was diminishing, and the sun was setting. The Viceroy had posted a large body of his troops on our left beyond the Kaluga stream, at the foot of the height on which was the big redoubt taken by our cavalry. The Prince was going about amongst his battalions, when the enemy, who had probably recognised him, ordered a considerable body of Cossacks to charge and try to carry him off. Fortunately the Prince noticed the masses of cavalry threatening our left, and in anticipation of their attack he at once formed his divisions in squares by regiments. The Viceroy had only just time to fling himself into the 84th Regiment, beside Colonel Pegot, and to order the Italian regiment to repulse the thousands of Cossacks advancing upon us with lowered spears, before the shock came. But the point-blank discharge from our infantry drove the mass of riders, always so clever at turning tail, back upon themselves. Our cavalry pursued them for a short distance, and then returned to the ranks. The night fell, and put an end to the exhausting struggle all along the lines of the rival hosts.

The tents of the Emperor and of Major-General Prince Berthier were pitched on the verge of the battle field, which in itself was doubtless a token of victory, but the enemy’s army was still within gunshot of us; the Russians, too, were rejoicing over a victory, and on our side the leaders were all making preparations for the resumption of the struggle the next day. The night was very dark, and gradually the fires on both sides, all too numerous, warned us what we might expect on the morrow.

Whilst waiting for the frugal repast which was to restore our exhausted forces, I jotted down notes of what I had seen during the day, and compared this battle with those of Wagram, Essling, Eylau, and Friedland. I was surprised that the Emperor had shown so little of the eager activity which had before so often ensured success. On the present occasion he had not mounted except to reach the battle field, and had remained seated below his Guard on a sloping mound, from which he could see everything. Several balls had passed over his head. Whenever I returned from the numerous errands on which I was sent, I found him still seated in the same attitude, following every movement with the aid of his pocket field-glass, and giving his orders with imperturbable composure. But we did not see him now, as so often before, galloping from point to point, and with his presence inspiring our troops wherever the struggle was prolonged and the issue seemed doubtful. We all agreed in wondering what had become of the eager, active commander of Marengo, Austerlitz, and elsewhere. We none of us knew that Napoleon was ill and suffering, quite unable to take a personal part in the great drama unfolded before his eyes, the sole aim of which was to add to his glory. In this terrible drama had been engaged Tartars from the confines of Asia, with the élite of the troops of some hundred European nations, for from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, men had flocked to fight with desperate courage for or against Napoleon. The blood of some 80,000 Russians and Frenchmen had been shed to consolidate or to overturn his power, and he looked on with an appearance of absolute sang-froid at the awful vicissitudes of the terrible tragedy. We were all anything but satisfied with the way in which our leader had behaved, and passed very severe strictures on his conduct. Supper interrupted our discussion, and after it we were soon all wrapped in heavy slumber, whilst the chief, whom we had been accusing so severely, was watching and studying how best to resume the conflict the next morning.1 Three hours before daybreak he sent for me and said, ‘Go and find the Viceroy, and make a reconnaissance with him of the Russian line opposite to him; then come and tell me what is going on.’ It was now September 8.

1 Many historians accuse Napoleon of inactivity at Borodino, and there is no doubt that he was suffering severely; but by remaining as he did in one spot, he was able to receive reports from every part of the widely extended battle field. –  Trans.

A few minutes later I was riding stealthily along side by side with Prince Eugène at the base of the heights of Borodino, trying to find out something about the enemy’s intentions. The darkness of the night protected us, and we reached the entrenchments of Borodino, still occupied by the Russians. Seen from below, the fortifications stood out black against a sky of a less sombre hue, and we were able to ascertain that the weapons of the sentinels pacing to and fro were lances, not muskets with fixed bayonets. Having made quite sure on this point, we concluded that the enemy was in retreat, for otherwise the defence of the fortifications would not have been left to Cossacks, and I hastened back with this news to the Emperor. The reports brought in from other reconnaissances tallied with mine, and he ordered that the enemy should be pursued without loss of time. It was only now that we were able to feel quite sure that the victory was ours.²

² The Russians claim to have won the battle of Borodino, and Kutusoff, as commander-in-chief, reported it to the Emperor Alexander as a great victory, and was promoted in consequence. There is no doubt, however, that the French were the victors, though the Russians retreated in excellent order. – Trans.

The terrible struggle, so hotly contested, had won no results at all commensurate with the great losses sustained on both sides. The French had to mourn two generals of division, Montbrun and Caulaincourt, and eight other generals killed, thirty-eight generals wounded, ten colonels killed, and some 40,000 men killed or wounded. The Russians had lost sixty pieces of cannon, and had had thirty-five generals killed, wounded, or taken prisoners, with 45,000 men killed or disabled, and 5,000 taken prisoners.

After all our fatigues the pursuit was slack, and the Russians retired in perhaps even more admirable order than on the day preceding the battle. For several leagues their route was dotted with the wooden crosses they had hastily set up over the graves of the wounded officers who had died by the way. The numerous graves and crosses amongst their lines of abattis, in the rear of Gorka, made them look like a regular cemetery. We too spent a short time over the sacred duty of interring our dead, and when I climbed up into the big redoubt to examine the condition of the fortification which had given us so much trouble the day before, I found our troops digging graves for their many comrades and officers who had fallen. Caulaincourt was placed in the centre of the entrenchment, and I had the gallant Vasserot laid beside him. One side of that officer’s face had been carried away, but without altering the expression of what remained, and he seemed to be still saying in accents of command, ‘Follow me, my friends; we shall conquer!’ As in the case of General Gudin, I made the men cover over these two bodies with quantities of broken armour and weapons.

Nothing could have been more melancholy than the appearance of the battle field covered with groups occupied in carrying away the thousands of wounded, and in taking from the dead the few provisions remaining in their haversacks. Some of the wounded dragged themselves towards Kolotskoy, where Baron Larrey had set up an ambulance, whilst others were carried thither by their comrades in one way or another. Very soon an immense number were waiting attention, but, alas! everything needed for them was wanting, and hundreds perished of hunger, envying the happier lot of those who had been killed on the spot.

Our cavalry under Murat pursued the Russians with sufficient vigour to compel them to take up a position at Mojaisk, and I was sent to urge the Viceroy to second the efforts of the King of Naples. We came up with the Russians at Mojaisk, and had to give them battle to drive them out of it. They withdrew, leaving the place encumbered with dead and wounded. All the Russian horses which had been hurt in the battle of Borodino seemed to have come to Mojaisk to die. The action was well sustained, and General Belliard was seriously wounded.

It was on September 9 at Mojaisk that I first saw our troops use horseflesh as food. The court of a house I occupied, and the street it was in, were alike piled up with unfortunate horses, many still breathing, though too severely wounded to be able to rise. A report I had to draw up occupied me an hour, and when I came out with it, what was my surprise to find all the horses cut to pieces and the best part of the flesh carried away by our men! I was not yet reduced to eating the tough, yellow, tasteless meat, but ere long it was to be all we were to have to save us from the torments of famine!

It was here that the Prince of Wagram (Marshal Berthier) told me that the Prince of Eckmühl (Marshal Davout) wished to make me chief of his staff. This news, which would have flattered and delighted every one else, afflicted me greatly, and I begged Marshal Berliner not to take any notice of the request. That same evening, however, the Emperor sent me the appointment, signed by himself, and there was nothing for it but to submit.

This change to the position lately held by General Compans, which had contributed so greatly to his advancement and added so much to his wealth, filled me with the most lively regret. I had served so long under Prince Berthier, and my greatest desire was to remain with him. I went at once to the Prince of Eckmühl and begged him to make another choice, but he insisted on having me, and it was with tears in my eyes that I returned to bid farewell to the Prince of Wagram before I went to receive my instructions from my new chief, who was in his tent on the road to Moscow.

On the 12th and 13th we followed the Russians, and a little before nightfall on the 14th we came in sight of Moscow. King Murat’s cavalry was in advance of us, and had not only already entered the town, but had penetrated at the same time as the infantry under Marshal Ney as far as the Kremlin.

The troops of the first corps, to which I now belonged, were posted to cover the occupation of the heights overlooking the town, and we spent the night with them. It was here that we discovered that the Russians had just set fire to the town to prevent us front deriving any benefit from the resources it contained.

Many amongst us thought our advance on Moscow most imprudent, and General Haxo said to me, ‘This will lead to our having to defend Paris before long.’

When King Murat entered the town on the 14th at the head of his cavalry, he advanced with considerable caution, fearing that the ease with which he was allowed to advance meant that some trap had been laid for us. It was not until he reached the foot of the Kremlin that he met with any resistance at all. This resistance was easily overcome, and he entered the Kremlin or citadel itself, that lofty fortress within which are the palaces of the Czars.

The Emperor entered Moscow on the 15th, and took up his quarters in the Kremlin. On the 16th the spread of the fire drove him to take refuge in the Château of Peterskoe, but he returned to the citadel on the 18th, when the conflagration was beginning to subside.

The first corps from its post of observation outside the town was able to watch the immediate results of the fire, which appeared to us to have begun near the Kremlin. The reports of our foragers who went to look for provisions in the houses of Moscow all confirmed our idea that the fire was the prearranged work of incendiaries, for the breaking open of a door often fired a train of gunpowder, which set light to piles of tow shavings or faggots, so that the house was soon in flames. Many doors were also found armed with gunlocks, the triggers of which fell at the first shock, setting fire to the inside of the house, so that our men had hard work to snatch from the flames the few sacks of flour, sugar, loaves, and other provisions which the owners had stored up against the approaching winter. The wind fanned the conflagration, and it soon embraced the whole city, which resembled the crater of some huge volcano, over which hung dense masses of smoke, dashed here and there at times by silvery light from the moon. The Emperor’s first care was to prevent pillage, but presently he ordered it to be encouraged, so as to save as much as possible from destruction and snatch from the flames the provisions which were being reduced to ashes.

The first corps did not leave its position outside the town till the 19th, when it went to take up its quarters in a suburb which had escaped the fire. To reach it we had to pass through the burning streets, and march beneath a perfect vault of flames, which made the passage of the artillery very dangerous. We reached the suburb, however, without accident, and found there some twenty palatial residences. One of these was set apart for Marshal Davout and another for me, but we had scarcely installed ourselves in them when they were found to be on fire, though how it came about we could not tell. We had to go elsewhere, and I entered a very handsome building, which appeared to have belonged to a merchant, for the rooms were all encumbered with quantities of bottles of scent labelled in French, medicines, rolls of opodeldoc, &c., probably sold for the amelioration of the chronic rheumatism of the Russians. I had scarcely written a page of the orders I had to give, when I was nearly suffocated by smoke, and had once more to beat a retreat. Three times in that one morning did a similar accident happen, and it was not until I had told my men to fire on every one who looked at all like a Russian that I succeeded in getting a house I could stop in. Marshals Davout and Mortier had experienced similar difficulties. My sister, who had been living in Russia for twenty years, and now joined me, told me all about what happened to Marshal Mortier. I must, however, explain my sister’s presence in Moscow. She had suffered much from an affection of the eyes, and had come to that city to consult a great oculist, under whose treatment her sight was restored. She had been about to return to St. Petersburg when the French army arrived at the gates of Moscow. Hearing from some French officers who had teen taken prisoners that I was with the army, she was most anxious to find me, more especially as the evacuation of Moscow by the Russians left her in a very terrible position. Marshal Mortier was the first person to whom she applied for news of me; he received her kindly, and she remained with him till she found me. She was, therefore, amongst those who had to flee with the Marshal from the houses in which he endeavoured to establish himself. Five times they were driven out by the flames before they finally settled down in a building from which the incendiaries had been ousted without being able to complete their work. Many of these wretches passed themselves off as patients from the hospitals, who had come to beg us to aid then.¹ The sentinels in the quarter we now occupied having, as already stated, received orders to fire on all the Russians loitering about in the streets, the conflagration gradually burnt itself out. At the end of nine days it was practically extinct, though the incendiaries, anxious to prevent us from being able to build barracks in which to spend the winter at Moscow, had begun to set fire to a huge timber yard containing some thirty million beams for building. I sent the guard to put out the beginnings of what would have been another great conflagration, and a few well-aimed shots brought down the Russians at their evil work. By this apparently cruel order to our sentinels I was fortunate enough to save for the unlucky people of Moscow the materials for erecting, when they returned, shelters above the ashes of their homes in which to take refuge from the rigours of the winter so fatal to ourselves. But for this charitable precaution, which I rejoice at having taken, they would have had to withdraw to distant forests, and would have suffered far more than they did, whilst I should not have had the consolation of knowing that I had done at least a little to mitigate the horrors of war.

¹ The greater number of the incendiaries were released prisoners, to each of whom a special post was assigned by the police. – Trans.

Like every one else who had stopped in Moscow with a view to separating himself from the Russians, my sister had been robbed of everything belonging to her, and she remained some days at Marshal Mortier’s before she was able to join me. Even when we did at last find ourselves under the same roof, and one which was not on fire, I had little time to spare for her, or to talk over family affairs, for I was very much occupied. To keep her company, however, she had two young Russian prisoners, Colonel Sokoreff and Colonel Desapour by name, who both spoke French like Parisians, the latter an Indian prince, both of whom had been brought to me some days before, and shared my meals. The exchange of courtesies between my guests under circumstances so extraordinary, and in the midst of the barbarous surroundings of such a war as this, was certainly most interesting.

As chief of the staff, I had from twenty to twenty-five people to provide for and superintend every day. These included five or six secretaries, several aides-de-camp on various missions, and ten or twelve assistant officers. The men told off to supply our needs had no means of doing so but by pillage. Every day their task became more difficult and dangerous, as they had to go further and further afield. Often they did not return, for they had been taken prisoners or killed. Our position was, indeed, all but unbearable, and we could not maintain it many days longer. Our one hope was that the enemy would sue for peace. The Russians took pains to encourage this hope, and the leaders of the advanced guard, ready to believe what they so ardently wished, were far too easily deceived. The reports they sent to the Emperor confirmed him in his error, and he shared with them the hope of extricating his army from its critical position by a favourable treaty of peace. Hoping to smooth away difficulties, he even wrote to the Emperor Alexander to the effect that he was willing to grant generous terms in such a treaty. Of course this was a positive proof to the Russians of the great difficulty of our position, and an additional reason for prolonging our uncertainty until the time of year when the climate would become their most powerful ally against the French.

Our outposts extended scarcely two days’ journey beyond Moscow, and the Emperor found it extremely difficult to get any certain information as to the position of the Russian army. The Russians, on the other hand, were fully au courant of all our movements, and few days passed without our receiving the melancholy news that this or that battalion or squadron, sent to protect our foragers in their search for food, had fallen into the hands of the enemy.¹

¹ Marbot, who in his Memoirs gives an admirable account of the Russian campaign, says of this critical juncture: ‘Napoleon, misconceiving Alexander’s position, was always in hope of his coming to terms. . . . Meanwhile the Russian army was being reorganised, and its commander sent officers to bring back stragglers, who were estimated at 15,000. These men . . . went about freely among our bivouacs, sitting at our soldiers’ fires, and eating with them, without its occurring to any one to make them prisoners. This was a mistake, for they gradually rejoined their army, whilst ours was growing daily weaker.’ – Memoirs of Baron de Marbot, vol. ii. p. 278. – Trans.

At one time the bold project was even discussed of getting out of our painful situation by making a dash for St. Petersburg, but to do this we should have to abandon our wounded and our lines of communication, to go and make war as mere isolated bodies of adventurers, cut off from their supporting points. This new invasion might lead to the rising en masse of the whole population of Russia, whom the proclamations of the Emperor Alexander were already calling to arms. Hitherto the peasants had shown great patience with us; but now they too were beginning to be hostile, and simple as the march on St. Petersburg might appear, it would probably launch us on an enterprise far beyond our strength in the cold and rainy season about to commence. For all that we were eager for it, and we had already begun to withdraw our prisoners, such of the wounded as could be moved, and much of the impedimenta of the army towards Smolensk. I took advantage of this chance of starting my sister for France, installing her in one of my carriages drawn by three good horses under a first-rate driver. I took care to pack the carriage with plenty of provisions and furs, commending her to the care of several of our wounded generals, and, better still, to the protection of Providence.

The army, thus to a certain extent relieved of the noncombatants, who left Moscow on the 13th and 14th, was now far more manageable and awaited with impatience the decision of Napoleon. These last few days were very trying. Our purveyors were no longer able to bring back anything either for the men or for the horses. The accounts they gave of the dangers they had incurred were appalling, and, according to them, we were hemmed in by a perfect network of Cossacks and armed peasants, who would kill any isolated parties of French, and from whom we ourselves might find it difficult to escape.

All this, of course, added greatly to our perplexities, and the generals in command and their chief staff officers found the task of the reorganisation of the army most arduous. The days and nights were all too short to overcome the many obstacles in our way, and I had scarcely time to see anything of Moscow except the long street leading from our suburb to the Kremlin, which passed the tower for which a bell had been cast some two centuries before, so big that as yet no means had been found for hoisting it to its place.¹ In our dreams of glory – for in dreams all things seem possible – we fancied ourselves carrying off this huge bell as a trophy to Paris. Other treasures, including the big cross from Ivan’s Tower, were already packed on carriages for removal, and in placing them there a vision rose up before us of Paris as the capital of the whole world, with her museums, other public buildings and squares already so full of objects of value, yet further enriched with the spoils of foreign countries.

¹ The reason why it was never hung was that it was broken by the fall of some timber in 1737, having, it is said, been weakened in the first instance by the quantity of jewels flung into the molten metal by Russian ladies. – Trans.

The weather was still fairly fine, and there was yet no hint of the bitter winter approaching, so that, in spite of the evident change for the worse in the health of the Emperor, and the consequent decrease in his activity, in spite of our uncertainty as to the future, and the many privations we had to endure, we cherished the most delightful illusions, and all sorts of grand things seemed possible, when on October 18 we were roughly awakened from our dreams by the noise of a brisk cannonade in the distance. The news soon reached us that our outposts had been suddenly attacked at Vinkowo, and, being taken by surprise, had been routed. General Kutusoff had turned the delays skilfully to account to repair the losses he had sustained, to receive new levies of troops, and in a word to get his army into first-rate condition.² On October 18 he ordered considerable forces to make sudden simultaneous attacks all along our lines of outposts.

² General Kutusoff misled Napoleon by sending him letters to read addressed to the Emperor Alexander. The contents of these letters were contradicted in private despatches, which fell into the hands of the French too late to be of use. – Trans.

General Sebastiani lost in this attack, which took him completely by surprise, no fewer than thirty pieces of cannon and all his baggage, whilst 5,000 of his men were killed and many others taken prisoners. King Murat himself was all but carried off, only escaping by charging and overturning at the head of his carabineers a whole Russian corps which attempted to bar his passage.

From this day our position was completely changed. Our flag had been torn down from the proud position won by our many victories, and Napoleon, disappointed in his hopes of peace, had to hasten his retreat, lest the enemy should render escape impossible. Fortunately the Russians still stood to some extent in awe of the well-known energy of the French, and their fear that we might resume the offensive if we were rendered desperate made them cautious, preventing them from securing the full success which their position and the superiority of their numbers could not have failed to win.

On October 18 we received orders to leave Moscow, and to march by way of the Kalouga road on the 19th. Thus, after a month’s delay at Moscow, which had been of no special advantage to us, during which our army had received few reinforcements and our troops had been worn out hunting for provisions, we left that city and sadly began our retreat towards France. We were fortunate in having beautiful autumn weather, and the first few days’ march was peaceful enough, for we only had to drive off a few Cossacks who hovered on the flank of our columns. But, as on our advance, we were everywhere harassed by the Russian plan of burning everything on our approach, and we could do nothing to prevent it. About ten leagues from Moscow the first corps halted at the base of a fine castle, the foundations and first floor of which were of hewn stone. I had several orders to write, and I went up a grand staircase into a suite of rooms which seemed to have been but recently deserted, for they still contained a piano, a harp, and a good many chairs, on which lay a guitar, several violins, some music, drawings, embroideries, and lady’s unfinished needlework. I had scarcely been writing ten minutes, when we all noticed a smell of smoke. This smoke quickly filled the place, becoming so dense that we were obliged to give up work to try and find out whence it came. It seemed to issue chiefly from the wooden framework of one door. I had it broken in, and thick smoke at once poured through the aperture. I then went down into the cellars to see if the fire originated there, but I could discover nothing. I tried having a few buckets of water flung into the opening we had made, but even as my orders were obeyed such masses of flames rushed out upon us that we had only just time to collect our papers and escape. We had scarcely got downstairs when we heard the windows breaking with a crash, and as we looked back on our way to join the bivouac of our corps we saw volumes of flames issuing from all the windows of the castle, which fell at last, bearing witness by its destruction to the patriotic fury with which the Russians, torch in hand, were determined to pursue us.

Of course other fires occurred accidentally, with which the Russians had nothing to do. The little grain or flour found by our soldiers was made into cakes and put in the ovens with which all the peasants’ huts were provided. Scarcely was one batch of cakes done before other troops came up, and the oven was heated again till the chimney would suddenly catch fire. This was how most of the fires which were to light up our passage from Moscow to the Niemen came about.

My courage almost fails me when I try to relate the horrors of those awful days and nights of suffering. But in spite of that, I shall put down here all that I find in my notes, for I think that the lessons taught by the past should be brought forcibly before the eyes of those whose genius leads to their being called to command armies.

Kutusoff justly felt that the best way to make war on us was to cut off our communications, so as to isolate us in the midst of a hostile population to whom our loss would be gain. He therefore took up a position at Vinkowo commanding the Kalouga road, by which he thought it probable that we should retire. The success he had achieved on the 18th confirmed his belief that the course he had adopted was the best, and the aim of his later manœuvres was to bar our passage.

Under these circumstances it was important that we should push on as rapidly as possible during the first days of our retreat, so as to gain a couple of days’ march on the enemy and get possession, without fighting, of the principal passes. But, alas! this was just what we did not do. Although much of the impedimenta of the French army had been sent on some days before, we were still encumbered with a great number of wagons and carriages laden with provisions for the prisoners, and with the booty we had taken, which included warm garments to protect us from the cold we should have to encounter. The amount of baggage was really enormous, and to give some idea of it I will just mention what I, an officer, who realised as much as any one the importance of getting rid of encumbrances, was trying to take with me. I still had 1. Five saddle horses; 2. a barouche, drawn by three horses, containing my personal effects and the furs in which I meant to wrap myself when bivouacking in the open; 3. the wagon, drawn by four horses, in which were all the papers of the staff, the maps, and the cooking utensils for the officers and their servants; 4. three smaller wagons, each drawn by three little Russian horses, in which rode our servants and the cook, under whose care were the stores of oats, a few precious trusses of hay, with the sugar, coffee, and flour belonging to the staff; 5. my secretary’s horse; 6. the three horses I had lent to my sister, which had gone on in front, making altogether six carriages and twenty-five horses, to take along little more than bare necessaries. The traces of the carriages were constantly breaking, the march was retarded whilst they were mended, there were perpetual blocks in the sand, the marshes, or in the passes, and it often took our troops twelve hours to do a distance which a single carriage could have accomplished in two.¹

¹ Marbot says that the army in retreat was followed by 40,000 vehicles. – Trans.

The Emperor, who was very much concerned at these delays, ordered that all the carriages not absolutely necessary for the transport of the few provisions we had with us were to be burnt and the horses used to help drag the artillery. So many were, however, interested in eluding this stern but wise sentence, that it was very insufficiently carried out. To set an example the Emperor had one of his own carriages burnt, but no one felt drawn towards imitating him, and the army, which still numbered between 105,000 and 106,000 combatants, and had 500 pieces of cannon, took six days to cover some thirty leagues. Further precious time was lost in getting across country by difficult roads, from the main Kalouga route, which was very bad, to a better one, and the Emperor leaving only Murat’s cavalry and Marshal Ney’s infantry on the old road to cover us from the attacks of the army under Kutusoff.

The Viceroy’s corps marched at the head of the column on the new road, whilst the Delzons division, as advanced guard, occupied Malo-Jaroslavitz, the passage through which was extremely difficult.

Malo-Jaroslavitz was a little town of wooden houses, with tortuous streets, built on the steep sides of a lofty hill, at the base of which wound the little river Luya in a deep valley it had hollowed out for itself. A narrow bridge spanned the river below the only road by which the town could be reached from Moscow, and this road was here bounded on either side by impassable ravines, down which flowed the rapid torrents of such frequent occurrence in Russia during the rainy season. On the evening of the 23rd the town was occupied without resistance by the first of our battalions to arrive, the inhabitants having all fled at their approach.

That same evening the Emperor halted at the post-house of Malo-Jaroslavitz, a mere peasant’s hut, where he passed the night after having sent out officers bearing his orders to the corps écheloned on the road from Moscow to Smolensk, telling them to meet him at the latter town.

On October 24 the Emperor was riding with the first corps and his Guard, as he thought, in perfect security, when a considerable body of cavalry appeared on the right, which we all took at first to be Murat’s troops. We were not long left in our error. It appeared that a certain Platoff, a celebrated Cossack hetman or general, had promised Kutusoff to carry off Napoleon, and now with several thousands of his men he suddenly flung himself upon that part of the French army which he fancied included the Imperial staff. He had guessed rightly, and in the twinkling of an eye Napoleon was surrounded by Cossacks and compelled to draw his sword in his own defence. Fortunately, however, his escort was made up of men devoted to his person, and they pressed round him, breaking the shock of the barbarian charge. General Rapp, as he was engaged in trying to get the Emperor away, was overthrown in the mêlée, whilst his horse was pierced by a lance. Several officers near the Emperor were wounded. The mounted grenadiers and chasseurs of the Guard, however, recovering from the momentary surprise caused by the bold attack and wild cries of the hordes of Cossacks, dashed into their midst and put them to rout. In this struggle Emmanuel Lecouteulx, one of Prince Berthier’s aides-de-camp, having broken his sword in the body of a Cossack, seized his lance and brandishing it above his head pursued his other enemies with it. A green furred pelisse, rather like those often worn by Russian officers, hid his uniform, and a French grenadier, taking him for a Cossack, plunged his long sabre into his shoulder, the point coming out through his breast. We all thought this terrible wound would lose us a favourite comrade, but God preserved him, and he is still alive.¹ After being thus quickly dispersed, the Cossacks, leaving many of their numbers behind, dashed away, but they were stopped in their flight by a Dutch battalion, which flung itself upon them and greeted them with volleys of musketry.

¹ The Emperor took him back to France in his own carriage – Trans.

Soon after this skirmish news was brought to the Emperor that our advanced guard had been vigorously attacked at Malo-Jaroslavitz, and the army quickened its march to go to the rescue. General Kutusoff, informed of our change of route, had at once sent a body of infantry and artillery more than 60,000 strong, under command of General Doctoroff, with orders to take possession of Malo-Jaroslavitz. These troops easily turned out the few French battalions under General Delzons, and occupied the town in their place. General Delzons, it is true, drove the Russians back to the centre of the town, but a ball fractured his skull, killing him and his brother, who was beside him, on the spot. The French began to give way, and the Russians recovered the ground they had lost. General Guilleminot was sent to replace Delzons, and Prince Eugène supported him with the Broussier division. Again and again Guilleminot drove the Russians beyond the principal square, but fresh efforts on the part of the enemy forced him in his turn to retreat. The formidable Russian artillery placed on the heights overlooking the town and in its gardens poured a murderous fire down upon the road on which the French were coming up, whilst we were unable to reply with an effective fire from below, as we could only get our guns into position in the meadows by the Luya. Everything had therefore to be done by us with the bayonet in a space so limited that any flank manœuvres were impossible. The enemy had all the advantages alike of the ground and of superiority of numbers. During the thick of the struggle, Prince Eugène had a second bridge flung across the river beside the first, so as to facilitate the passage of his troops.

Ten times at least we drove the Russians back, only in our turn to lose the ground we had gained; but at last the united efforts of Guilleminot and Broussier, supplemented later by the gallant charge of the Italian grenadiers under Pino, compelled the enemy to retire, leaving us masters of the town, which was now in flames. Our artillery was at last able to scale the hill so as to debouch in the plain, and dashing through the burning streets, crushing the wounded, the burnt, and the dead as they went, they succeeded in getting through the town and taking up their position on the hills, to pour down in their turn a hot cannonade upon the Russian troops posted within range across and behind the road to Kalouga.

The first corps seconded this operation, and spent the evening actually amongst the bodies of the dead all kneaded up by the wheels of the guns. A dark night fortunately shrouded the horrors from our sight, and we were able in the end to take up our position on the plain beyond the mangled remains of our comrades.

In this battle, in which our numbers were but one to four of our adversaries, we lost many men, and we were threatened with a similar struggle at every pass.

The Emperor went over the scene of the awful combat, overwhelmed Prince Eugène and his generals with praise, and then withdrew to a distant hut, where he passed the night. I was told afterwards that he held a council of war with several of the Marshals and King Murat, and that, after having the maps spread out and discussing them, he seemed to be for some time plunged in the greatest uncertainty. He finally dismissed every one at midnight without having come to any decision. This must have been indeed a cruel night for the great man, who now saw his star beginning to set, his power crumbling away, and who must already have begun to wonder if he could ever re-establish it, or even if he would get back to France.

On the morning of the 25th, Marshal Davout, Colonel Kobilinski, and I went the round of our outposts and saw with regret that the Russian army was drawn up in good order not far off, completely blocking the road to Kalouga, which we hoped to take. We made our dispositions for forcing a passage, and as we stood in a close group, bending over our maps, we offered an excellent mark for a Russian artilleryman. A ball from a twelve-pounder passed between the Marshal and me, and carried away one of Colonel Kobilinski’s legs. The unfortunate officer fell against me, and we thought he was killed, but he recovered miraculously, and I shall speak of him again later.

The Marshal and I, with hearts torn by this catastrophe, impatiently awaited the signal to advance, when a very different order filled us with surprise and dismay.

I must explain that Kalouga, whither we thought we were bound, was a town of great importance to the Russians, as it was their emporium of provisions and weapons. Built as it was beside a river divided into several branches, it could easily be fortified, and afforded an admirably defended position for the Russian army, which had arrived before us. The Emperor doubted whether we were strong enough to force a passage through it, and he had lost so much time hesitating that he was now reduced to the necessity of ordering the army to abandon the Kalouga road for the one leading to Mojaisk, by which we had come. This was to fling us back upon the desert without provisions, to make us tramp once more over the ashes we had left behind us on our way to Moscow; in a word, it was to deprive us of all hope of finding a scrap of food. Needless to say that this decision afflicted us all most cruelly. The Emperor with his Guard went first, followed by the various corps of the army with all their terrible encumbrances, whilst henceforth Marshal Davout’s corps, which of course was also my own, formed the rear-guard.