JOACHIM MURAT, KING OF NAPLES
Commander of the French Cavalry
From the painting by Gérard at Versailles
He at once made his dispositions for retreat. A little east of Krasnoï the Lossmina river flows to the Dnieper through a gully over which the high-road passed by the usual wooden bridge. Neverovski ordered the 50th Chasseurs with 2 guns to march with all speed to Korythnia, nearly half-way to Smolensk, to form a sustaining force in case of a grave defeat, and began to withdraw. When Murat and Ney arrived they found him with 9 battalions, his cavalry and 8 guns, behind the ravine, with 1 battalion and 2 guns in Krasnoï.
The general order of the French advance is a little uncertain, but Grouchy, with Chastel’s light horse and De la Houssaye’s dragoons, appears to have been on the left, the light cavalry of the 1st and 3rd Corps with the 24th Léger, personally led by Ney, in the centre; Montbrun’s two Cuirassier divisions on the right, with Nansouty in support. The 24th Léger attacked and carried Krasnoï about 3 p.m., capturing the two guns and driving the remains of the garrison over the ravine. The 9th Polish Cavalry followed them over the bridge, but, throwing themselves rashly upon the supporting infantry, were repulsed. The Kharkov dragoons pursued, but declined to charge in face of the masses behind, and Neverovski, seeing the French numbers, sent his cavalry off to the rear, and began to withdraw, with his ten battalions ranged in two dense columns.
The hostile horsemen were now crowding over the Lossmina ravine. Murat, having got some squadrons together, flung himself at the Russian rear-guard, threw it into disorder and captured five or six guns more. Neverovski rallied the broken troops, and then, apparently doubting the steadiness of his young recruits, supported now by the fire of only two guns, united his force into a single great square. As the battalions were formed, in Continental fashion, six deep, and as the number of men was about 5000, each face was probably 130 yards long.
As the French and allied cavalry crossed the ravine each regiment hurried up to the front and singly and apparently haphazard charged the retiring square. To all appearance Murat exercised no general control, but acted like a mere regimental commander, riding furiously about, leading isolated charges which were futile against steady infantry. The artillery was mostly blocked at the Lossmina, and only three Württemberg guns succeeded in coming into action; while Ney’s infantry, which might have held the Russians until the guns could do their work, could not force its way up through the impeding hosts of cavalry. The country was much broken and cut up by small hollows and gullies; while the road was generally bordered by trees. Over this country, eastward of Krasnoï, on the way to Korythnia, was moving the host of French, Polish and German horsemen, while in its midst the great square of the 27th Division lumbered solemnly along, with the attacks of the cavalry breaking upon it like waves upon a rock, firing and stabbing doggedly at everything that troubled it, and making its way steadily to Korythnia in spite of what its assailants could do. The firing of the Russian recruits appears to have often been wild, but their steadiness was exemplary. Even when the three Württemberg guns at last worked their way up and opened fire there was no shattering them. A Württemberg regiment did succeed, at one moment, in breaking into the square, but was forced out again, and the 27th Division steadied its ranks and went on its dogged way. The charges grew more and more ineffective owing to the fatigue of men and horses; and about 8 p.m. Neverovski arrived in safety at Korythnia. There he rallied his cavalry and rear-guard, and next day retreated on Smolensk. He had lost about 1500 men in all, of whom half were prisoners, with 8 guns. The French losses do not appear to have exceeded 800.
The action was extremely creditable to the young Russian troops, though it is only fair to say that they owed much to Murat’s mismanagement. Ney, in the midst of the action, went to the King and endeavoured to induce him to allow the infantry to pass to the front, but without avail. He was furious, and wrote a memorandum to Napoleon begging him to have a regular advance-guard of infantry. Cavalry, as he pointed out, were powerless to prevent the retreat of infantry.
Raievski reached Smolensk at dawn on the 15th. In the town was General Bennigsen, who was accompanying the army apparently in the hope of succeeding to the chief command. To him the anxious commander of the 7th Corps went for advice, but Bennigsen was not the man to assist juniors in difficulties, much less to allow himself to become associated with what might be a great disaster. He put Raievski off with a few meaningless words, merely counselling him to save his artillery. Raievski, as he says, felt that when the fate of Russia hung in the balance it was no time to think of a few guns. He took up a position about 2 miles in advance of the town, and awaited Neverovski, who arrived at 2 p.m. From him Raievski learned that probably the whole French army was advancing upon Smolensk, and hurried off a despatch to Barclay. At 5 p.m. he heard artillery fire at his outposts, and, hurrying to the front, saw the masses of Murat’s cavalry coming up from Korythnia.
Raievski did not falter. As he saw it his duty was plain. He and his men must die, if necessary, in defence of the city, for if it fell Napoleon could take Barclay and Bagration in rear, cutting their line of communication with Moscow and the south. He was supported by Paskievich, to whom, according to his biographer, the main credit of the resolution was due. This assertion may be taken for what it is worth, though there is no reason to doubt that Paskievich cordially supported his chief’s resolution.
Smolensk, in 1812, lay chiefly upon the southern bank of the river. It had formerly been a great frontier fortress, but since the advent of artillery its importance had dwindled, owing to the fact that it was more or less commanded by low heights. Its nucleus consisted of the ancient fortified city, whose massive brick walls formed an irregular pentagon of nearly four miles in circumference. These walls were generally about 30 feet high and from 15 to 20 in thickness. At the top were galleries open to the sky, too narrow to admit of guns being placed in position. At intervals were 32 towers, in which staircases gave access to the walls. It was only on the platforms of these towers that artillery could be placed, and they were in general less solidly constructed than the walls. Inside the walls were backed by ancient earthen ramparts. At the south-west angle was a small regular fort of earth, in so neglected a condition that its ramparts could easily be scaled by infantry. This so-called “Royal Citadel,” dating from the days of the Polish occupation, constituted in reality perhaps the weakest point in the line of defence. Close to the southern or Malakova Gate a breach, made during the siege by Sigismund III of Poland in 1611, was covered by an earthen redan. The walls were encircled by a ditch and covered way, also in a neglected condition. Along the east side a considerable gully gave further protection, and at the west side was another but shallower depression. All round the city were extensive suburbs, mostly consisting of wooden buildings. Among them were many dismantled earthworks. These suburbs extended almost up to the walls of the inner city, and, since they afforded cover to assailants, the defenders were practically forced to take up position either in or in advance of them. They were generally called after the town the road to which passed through them.