The oppressive continental policy of Napoleon caused the rupture of the peace of Tilsit, and led to the grand, but disastrous invasion of Russia. Alexander gave the first offence by not fulfilling the condition of his treaty with Napoleon. The French Emperor then began to see the error of that treaty. It should have secured the independence of Poland. The czar pressed Napoleon for a declaration that Poland should never be re-established, but the Emperor refused to make this concession. Both rulers then prepared for a struggle on a gigantic scale. Napoleon determined to invade, and Alexander was resolved to make a resolute defence.
Napoleon determined to concentrate an army of four hundred thousand men upon the banks of the Niemen. He was thoroughly informed of the vast resources of France and of the condition of the country through which he would be compelled to march. As far as human calculation could reach, his views were clear and accurate.
It was from the bosom of that France, of which he had made a “citadel,” which appeared impregnable, and across that Germany whose sovereigns were at his feet, that Napoleon wended his way towards the frontier of the Russian empire, in order to place himself at the head of the most formidable army which the genius of conquest had ever led. Fouche, Cardinal Fesch, and other noted councillors strove to dissuade Napoleon from the impending war; but the Emperor was confident, and seems to have entertained no doubt of his success. “The war,” he said, “is a wise measure, called for by the true interests of France and the general welfare. The great power I have already attained, compels me to assume an universal dictatorship. My views are not ambitious. I desire to obtain no further acquisition; and reserve to myself only the glory of doing good, and the blessings of posterity. There must be but one European code; one court of appeal; one system of money, weights and measures; equal justice and uniform laws throughout the continent. Europe must constitute but one great nation, and Paris must be the capital of the world.” Grand but premature conception!
The signal for the advance of the Grand Army was now sounded. It moved forward in thirteen divisions, besides the Imperial Guard, and certain chosen troops. The first division was headed by the stern and intrepid Davoust; the second, by Oudinot; the third, by the indomitable Ney; the fourth, by the skilful Prince Eugene; the fifth, by the devoted Poniatowski; the sixth, by that cool and skilful general, Gouvion St. Cyr; the seventh, by the veteran Regnier; the eighth, by the brave but reckless Jerome Bonaparte; the ninth, by the resolute Victor; the tenth, by the hero of Wagram, Macdonald; the eleventh, by the old veteran of Italy, Augereau; the twelfth, by the bold and brilliant Murat; and the thirteenth by Prince Schwartzenberg. The Old Guard—that solid and impenetrable phalanx—was commanded by Bessieres, Le Febre and Mortier.
Long before daybreak, on the 23d of June, the French army approached the Niemen. It was only two o’clock in the morning, when the Emperor, accompanied only by General Hays, rode forward to reconnoitre. He wore a Polish dress and bonnet, and thus escaped observation. After a close scrutiny, he discovered a spot near the village of Poineven, above Kowno, favorable to the passage of the troops, and gave orders for three bridges to be thrown across, at nightfall. The whole day was occupied in preparing facilities for the passage of the river, the line which separated them from the Russian soil.
The first who crossed the river were a few sappers in a boat. The day had been very warm, and the night was welcomed by the weary soldiers, who knew they had yet a difficult task to perform. Napoleon, who had been somewhat depressed all day, now seemed to regain his cheerful spirits. He posted himself upon a slight eminence, where he could superintend operations. The sappers found all silent on the Russian soil, and no enemy appeared to oppose them, with the exception of a single Cossack officer on patrole, who asked, with an air of surprise, who they were, and what they wanted. The sappers quickly replied, “Frenchmen!” and one of them briskly added, “Come to make war upon you; to take Wilna, and deliver Poland.” The Cossack fled into the wood, and three French soldiers discharged their pieces at him without effect. These three shots were the signals for the opening of this ever-memorable campaign. Their echoes roused Napoleon from the lethargy into which he had fallen, and he immediately planned the most active measures.
Three hundred voltigeurs were sent across to protect the erection of the bridges. At the same time, the dark masses of the French columns began to issue from the valleys and forests, and to approach the river, in order to cross it at dawn of day.
All fires were forbidden, and perfect silence was enjoined. The men slept with their arms in their hands, on the green corn, heavily moistened with dew, which served them for beds, and their horses for provender. Those on watch, passed the hours in reading over the Emperor’s proclamation, and speculating on the prospect which the daylight would disclose. The night was keen, and pitch dark. The silence maintained amidst such a prodigious mass of life—felt to be there, whilst nothing could be seen—rendered the hours unspeakably solemn.