Through Russian Snows (36 page)

Julian was too exhausted to talk, and every moment of rest was precious.
Therefore, after smoking for a short time, he lay down to sleep. At
daybreak the next morning the march through the forest continued. When
from time to time they approached its edge, the Cossacks could be seen
hovering thickly on the plain; but they dared not venture into the wood,
which was so close that their horses would be worse than useless to
them. At three o'clock, when within twenty miles of Orsza, two Polish
officers volunteered to push ahead to that town on some peasant's horses
that had been brought from the village where they had slept to acquaint
the commander of any French force that might be there with their
situation, and to pray for assistance. After a halt of an hour the
column pushed on again. When they had marched another twelve miles the
forest ceased. Night had long since fallen, and a thick fog hung over
the ground. This served to hide their movements, but rendered it
difficult in the extreme for them to maintain the right direction.

Their way led over a steep hill, which was climbed with great
difficulty by the exhausted troops; but on reaching the summit they saw
to their horror a long line of bivouac fires illuminating the plain in
front of them. Even the most sanguine felt despair for a moment. Ney
himself stood for a few minutes speechless, then he turned to his men.

"There is but one thing to do, comrades," he said. "It is death to stay
here. Better a thousand times meet it as soldiers. Let us advance in
absolute silence, and then rush upon our enemies and strive to burst our
way through. They cannot know that we are so near, and, aided by the
surprise, we may force a passage. If we fail, we will, before we die,
sell our lives so dearly that our enemies will long bear us in
remembrance."

In silence the column marched down the hill. No sound proclaimed that
the enemy had taken the alarm. When within charging distance, the line
levelled its bayonets and rushed forward to the fires. To their
stupefaction and relief, they found no foe to oppose them. The fires had
been lighted by order of the Cossack general to make them believe that
an army lay between them and Orsza, and so cause them to arrest their
march. Half an hour was given to the men to warm themselves by the
fires, then the march was resumed. Three miles further the sound of a
large body of men was heard, then came a challenge in French, "
Qui
vive!
" A hoarse shout of delight burst from the weary force, and a
minute later they were shaking hands with their comrades of Davoust's
division. The Polish messengers had, in spite of the numerous Cossacks
on the plains, succeeded in reaching Orsza safely. The most poignant
anxiety reigned there as to the safety of Ney's command; and Davoust, on
hearing the welcome news, instantly called his men under arms and
advanced to meet them.

The delight on both sides was extreme, and Ney's soldiers were supplied
with food that Davoust had ordered his men to put in their haversacks. A
halt of three or four hours was ordered, for the column had been
marching for eighteen hours, and could go no further. At daybreak they
completed the remaining eight miles into Orsza. Napoleon himself was
there. Here they rested for five days. Food was abundant, and arms were
distributed to those who needed them. Ammunition was served out, and
Napoleon employed himself with great energy in reorganizing his forces
and in distributing the stragglers,—who were almost as numerous as
those with the standards,—among them. Ney's corps was now too small for
separate service, and henceforth was united to that of Davoust. The halt
did wonders for the men. They were billeted among the houses of the
town, and warmth and abundant food revived their strength. They looked
forward with some confidence to reaching the spot where great magazines
had been prepared, and where they would take up their quarters until the
campaign recommenced in the spring.

Napoleon's plans, however, were all frustrated by the inconceivable
blunders and follies of the generals, to whom were entrusted the task of
carrying them out. Everywhere, in turn, they suffered themselves to be
deceived and caught napping. The important positions entrusted to them
were wrested from their hands. Minsk, where there were supplies for the
whole army for months, had been captured, and now Borizow, where the
passage of the Berezina was to be made, was captured almost without
resistance. Well might Napoleon when he heard the news exclaim in
despair:

"Will there never be an end to this blundering?"

Great as the cold had been before, it increased day by day in severity.
Happily for the French, Kutusow, with the main Russian army, was far in
their rear, and they might well hope, when joined by Victor, who was to
meet them near the Berezina with his division, to be able to defeat the
two Russian armies that barred their way, either force being inferior to
their own.

Stephanie had borne the march wonderfully well. Since leaving Smolensk,
she had had no walking to do. The cold was so great that she was glad to
remain during the day snuggled up beneath Julian's cloak. The marching
songs had ceased. Hunted as they were, silence was imperative, and
indeed the distances traversed and the hardships endured were so great
that even Julian felt that he had no longer strength to raise his voice.
Few words indeed were spoken on the march, for the bitter cold seemed to
render talking almost impossible.

Being in ignorance of the forces concentrating to cut him off, Napoleon
ordered Oudinot's corps to march forward to secure the passage at
Borizow, and Victor that at Studenski, but Tchichagow arrived at Borizow
before Oudinot, and began to cross the bridge there. Oudinot, however,
fell upon him fiercely before his whole army had passed over, and the
Russians drew back across the bridge, destroying it behind them.
Napoleon on his arrival found the Russian army of the Danube drawn up on
the opposite bank ready to dispute his passage. He at once sent bodies
of troops up and down the river to deceive the Russian admiral as to the
point at which he intended to force a passage. Victor had already come
in contact with Wittgenstein and had fought a drawn battle with him, and
now moved to join Napoleon at the spot decided upon for the passage of
the Berezina, near Studenski.

On the evening of the 25th of November Napoleon arrived there with
Oudinot's corps. The engineers immediately commenced the construction of
two bridges, and the cavalry and light infantry crossed the river to
reconnoitre the enemy, and some batteries were established to cover the
work. Materials were very scarce, and it was not until noon on the
following day that the bridges were reported practicable. Oudinot's
corps crossed at once, but the rest of the troops passed over in great
confusion, which was increased by the frequent breaking down of the
bridges. Victor took up a position to cover the rear, but one of his
divisions was cut off by Wittgenstein, and eight thousand men forced to
surrender. The main body of the French army, completely panic-stricken
by the thunder of guns in their rear, crowded down in a confused mass.
The passage was frequently arrested by fresh breakages in the bridges;
hundreds were pushed off into the river by the pressure from behind;
others attempted to swim across, but few of these succeeded in gaining
the opposite bank, the rest being overpowered by the cold or overwhelmed
by the floating masses of ice. Thousands perished by drowning. By the
28th the greater part of the French army had crossed, Victor's corps
covering the passage and repulsing the efforts of Wittgenstein up to
that time; then being unable to hold the Russians at bay any longer he
marched down to the bridge, forcing a way through the helpless crowd
that still blocked the approaches.

Altogether the loss of the French amounted to 28,000 men, of whom 16,000
were taken prisoners.

On the same day Tchichagow attacked in front with his army, but,
animated by Napoleon's presence, and by despair, the French fought so
fiercely that he was repulsed with much loss, and the way lay open to
Wilna. The intensity of the cold increased daily, and the sufferings of
the army were proportionately great. On the 5th of December Napoleon
handed over the wreck of the army, now reduced to 45,000 men, to Murat;
while the Viceroy was to have the chief command of the infantry.

By the time they reached the Berezina, Davoust's corps had been
diminished to a few thousand men, and on Victor taking the post of
rear-guard, they were relieved from that arduous task, and were among
the first who crossed the fatal bridge. From there to Wilna there was
comparatively little fighting. Kutusow's army was still far behind, and
although Wittgenstein and the Admiral hung on their rear, the French
army still inspired sufficient respect to deter them from attacking it
in force.

As the army approached the Berezina, scarce a hundred men of the
Grenadiers of the Rhone still hung together, and these were so feeble
that they staggered rather than marched along. Rations had ceased to be
issued, and the troops depended solely upon the flesh of the horses of
the waggons conveying the military chests, treasure, and artillery, and
from what they could gather in the deserted villages. So desperate were
they now that even the fear of falling into the hands of the peasants
was insufficient to deter them from turning off, whenever a village
appeared in sight, in the hope of finding food, or, if that failed, at
least a few hours' shelter. Not one of them was in such good condition
as Julian, who had been sustained not only by his naturally high
spirits, but by the prattle of the child, and by the added warmth of her
sleeping close to him at night.

She now, for the most part, trotted beside him, and it was only when
very tired that the child would allow him to take her up. She herself
had never been short of food, for however small the portion obtained,
enough for her was always set aside before it was touched. One day
Julian had, with some of his comrades, entered a village. The others had
insisted on lying down for a sleep, after devouring a little food they
were fortunate enough to find in one of the houses. Julian's efforts to
induce them to continue the march were in vain. They lighted a huge fire
on a hearth with wood obtained by breaking up some of the doors, and
declared that they would be warm for once, whatever came of it. The
column was already some distance off, and night was closing in. Julian
therefore started alone. He was carrying the child now, and for an hour
he kept on his way. Still there were no signs of a road, and he at last
became convinced that he must have gone in the wrong direction. He
walked for half an hour longer, and then coming upon a small hut, he at
once determined to pass the night there.

Laying the sleeping child down, he covered her over with his cloak. Then
he broke up some woodwork, cut a portion of it into small pieces, mixed
the contents of a cartridge with a little snow and placed it among them,
and then drew the charge from his musket, put a little powder into it,
and discharged it into the heap. In a few minutes a bright fire was
blazing, and taking the child in his arms, he lay down before it, and
was soon asleep. He was awakened some time afterwards by a strange
noise. He sprang up at once, threw some fresh wood on the embers, and,
grasping his musket, stood listening. In a minute the noise was renewed;
something was scratching at the door, and a moment later he heard a
pattering of feet overhead. Then came a low whimper and a snarl, and the
truth at once rushed upon him. He was surrounded by wolves.

For a long time the march of the army had been accompanied by these
creatures. Driven from the forest by cold and hunger, and scenting blood
from afar, they had hung upon the skirts of the army, feasting on the
bones of the horses and the bodies of the dead. Julian examined the
door. It was a strong one, and there was no fear of their making an
entry there. The roof, too, seemed solid; and the window, which was
without glass, had a heavy wooden shutter. Hoping that by morning the
wolves, finding that they could not enter, would make off, Julian lay
down by the fire again, and slept for some hours. When he woke daylight
was streaming in through a crack in the shutter. On looking through this
and through the chinks of the door, he saw to his dismay that the wolves
were still there. Some were sitting watching the house; others were
prowling about. It was clear that they had no intention whatever of
leaving. The child had been roused by his movements.

"Stephanie wants breakfast," she said decidedly, as he broke up some
more wood and rekindled the fire.

"I am afraid, dear, you will have to wait," he said. "I have not got any
to give you."

"Let us go and get some," she said, standing up.

"I would, Stephanie; but there are some wolves outside, and we can't go
until they move."

"Wolves are bad beasts. Stephanie was out riding in the sleigh with
papa, when they came out from a wood and ran after us, and they would
have killed us if the horses had not been very fast. Papa shot some of
them, but the others did not seem to mind, and were close behind when we
got home, where the men came out with forks and axes, and then they ran
away. Stephanie will wait for her breakfast."

Julian thought for some time, and, then going to the window, opened the
shutters and began to fire at the wolves. Several were killed. They were
at once torn to pieces by their companions, who then withdrew to a safe
distance, and sat down to watch. Julian had not even hoped that it would
be otherwise. Had he waited, it was possible that they would at last
leave the hut and go off in the track of the army; but even in that
case, he would not, he felt, be able to overtake it alone, for, weak as
he was, he felt unequal to any great exertion, and he and his charge
might be devoured by these or other wolves, long before he came up with
the column, or they might be killed by Cossacks or by peasants. The last
were the most merciless enemies, for death at their hands would be
slower and more painful than at the hands of the wolves, but at least
the child might be saved, and it was in hopes of attracting attention
that he opened fire. He continued therefore to discharge his gun at
intervals, and to his great satisfaction saw in the afternoon a number
of peasants approaching. The wolves at once made off.