Political considerations prompted a movement of withdrawal toward the northwest, as if against St. Petersburg, but military considerations prevailed, and between the two alternatives—a direct retreat to Smolensk through a devastated land, or a circuit south-westward, through fertile districts, toward Kaluga, as if to attack Kutusoff—the choice fell on the latter. The reason is clear. The seat of war was within a triangle marked by Riga, Brest-Litovski, and Moscow; from Riga to Moscow, the left flank, is five hundred and fifty miles; from Riga to Brest, the base, is three hundred and seventy-five miles; from Brest to Moscow, the right flank, is six hundred and fifty miles; the perpendicular from Moscow to the base, which was the shortest line of retreat, is therefore about five hundred and seventy-five miles. These distances are all enormous; on the left were only forty-two thousand men, on the right, about thirty-four thousand; along the line, forty-two thousand. The diagram, if drawn, will display all the peculiarities of Napoleonic formation in mass, abstractly considered, but it will likewise display the fact that with the highest and most perfect army organization then known, it would have been well-nigh impossible to work the combination. Neither of the monstrous flanks could be held by the comparatively scanty forces available; the line of operation was equally weak. What safety was there for the army in retreat? None.
There will never be complete agreement as to the causes of Napoleon's disaster in Russia. A comparison of the relative values of mass-formation, tactics, and organization in modern warfare, which uses railroads and telegraphs, with the distances practicable in present-day operations, must nevertheless reveal the chief cause—that the Napoleonic organization had not kept pace with the development of Napoleonic strategy. The emperor had overweighted the general, the former having soared into an ether which would not sustain the pinions of the latter. The well-used plea of an "act of God" will not stand. The autumn of 1812 was mild, the winter late in opening. Neither cheerless steppes, nor phenomenal cold, nor unheard-of snows, nor any reversal of nature's laws,—not even the motley nationalities of the grand army, or an unhistoric migration from south to north,—none of these was the chief cause of failure, which is to be found in the attempt monstrously to exaggerate the factors of a strategic system evolved for national, but not for continental, proportions.
The first and natural thought of a direct retreat to Smolensk was momentarily entertained; but it had to be abandoned because, with weak flanks and a bare country, the distance was too far. The same was true in regard to the move toward St. Petersburg—the distance was too great for the conditions. The circuit toward Kaluga was first considered as a feint to throw the Russians off the scent; it became a necessity when they assumed the offensive in the unforeseen and unexpected attack on Murat. The Emperor did not dare to expose his flank and rear to an advancing foe, and accordingly his army was assembled on the road toward Kaluga. Should he advance or await a further movement of the enemy? Evidently the former, otherwise the entire moral effect of the first offensive would be lost. A long march had to be extended still farther, partly for strategic reasons, but chiefly in order to secure an additional advantage of the first importance; to wit, sustenance from the country when the distances were too great for the workings of any feasible commissariat department. If the Russians should even momentarily be deceived into believing that the French had resumed the offensive, a line from Kaluga direct to Smolensk would still be open for retreat while the enemy was preparing for action.
The report was spread in Moscow that Napoleon was going out to overwhelm Kutusoff and then return. Mortier, with eight thousand of the young guard, remained behind, his orders being to blow up the Kremlin before leaving. The main army advanced across the river Pachra and moved toward the Lusha. There was as yet no word of the enemy; possibly he had been misled and was advancing directly on Moscow. Napoleon, therefore, turned westward in the hope that he might reach Kaluga without opposition. On the twenty-fourth the Russian van appeared. Had Kutusoff acted on his correct information and thrown forward his whole army, a decisive battle might have ended the invasion. As it was, Eugène, after a bloody conflict at Malojaroslavetz, remained master of the field, and the timid Kutusoff drew back his force. Meantime the truth leaked out in Moscow. Suspicion was excited, as the resident French observed not merely the immense booty packed in the officers' baggage, but also the loads of Muscovite art treasures under which the government wagons groaned. They were quick to act, and soon, accompanied by women and children, they joined the march with all the paraphernalia of their household goods. From the first this throng, uniting with the usual horde of stragglers and camp-followers, prevented all rapid movements by the army; in fact, but for them the half-senile Kutusoff would not have been able to show even his van to the French line. Mortier's effort to destroy the Kremlin failed, and served no purpose except to exhibit the thirst for revenge of a savage nature brought to bay.
In short, every plan of Napoleon's seemed ineffectual, and indecision marked his every act. Eugène's terrible struggle had resulted in a list of wounded numbering four thousand. The old Napoleon would have abandoned them and then have attacked Kutusoff even in the forest defiles where he was ensconced; or else he would have pressed on past Kaluga, or would have swiftly wheeled to regain the northern road toward Smolensk. The harried, sick, exhausted man of 1812 did none of these things, but called a council of war, and weighed the arguments there presented for nearly a week, when, finally, he decided, and with forced marches drove his columns toward the northern road to Smolensk. He wrote to Junot that his motive for delay was to provide for the suffering from his depot at Mozhaisk, but, in fact, he had not waited long enough materially to assist the wounded, and had secured no advantage from the bloody battle. In the absence of trustworthy information he took (when once he did move) a long, circuitous road. As yet there was no cold except the usual sharpness of autumn nights; but the summer uniforms of the troops were tattered and their shoes worn. Germans, Italians, and Illyrians began to straggle, and the horrors of the approaching cold, as depicted by Russian prisoners, sank deep into the minds of the dispirited French, so far away from their pleasant homes.[Back to Contents]
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Retreat from Russia.[44]
State of Napoleon's Mind — Destruction Imminent — The Affair at Wiazma — Kutusoff's Timidity — Napoleon's Despair — Arrival at Smolensk — The Army Reorganized — Napoleon's Daring at Krasnoi — Ney's Great Feat — Sufferings of the Army — The Russian Plan — Tchitchagoff's Capture of Borrissoff.
For nine days the retreat went steadily on. Mortier came in on October twenty-seventh; Davout was assigned to keep the rear. Napoleon was no longer seen on horseback; sometimes he drove, but generally he trudged among the men, to all outward appearance as spiritless as any one. To Junot he wrote that he had taken his decision in consequence of the cold and in order to provide for his wounded from the depot at Mozhaisk. There was as yet no severe cold, and there was a far shorter road to Smolensk. The writer's mind was chaotic, confusing what he knew soon would be with present realities. His maps were worthless, and clinging to experience, he showed none of his accustomed venturesomeness. The well-worn summer uniforms of his men were no protection even against the coolness of autumn nights. What a prospect when winter's cold should come! It was enough to stun even a Napoleon.
But the present was bad enough, and momentarily grew worse. The road was lined with charred ruins and devastated fields, and the waysides were dotted with groups of listless, desperate soldiers who fell out and sank on the ground as the straggling ranks of their comrades tramped on. Skirting the battle-field of Borodino, the marching battalions looked askance on the ghastly heaps of unburied corpses; but the wounded survivors were dragged from field hospitals and other cavernous shelters to be carried onward with the departing army. They were a sight which in some cases turned melancholy into madness. In order to transport them the wagons were lightened by throwing the spoils of Moscow into the pond at Semlino. On the thirtieth despatches of grave import reached the Emperor informing him that Schwarzenberg had retreated behind the Bug, leaving an open road from Brest for Tchitchagoff's veterans to attack the right flank of the columns flying from Moscow. Victor, learning of Napoleon's straits, had left fifteen thousand men in Smolensk, and was advancing to join Saint-Cyr on the Dwina in order to assure the safety of the main army from that side. To him came the dismal news that Wittgenstein had resumed the offensive against Saint-Cyr, and that the line of attack on the French left was as open from the north as was that on the other side from the south. Davout's rear-guard was steadily disintegrating under hardships and before the harassing attacks of the Russian riders under Platoff. Partizan warfare was assuming alarming dimensions. In a single swoop two thousand French recruits under Baraguey d'Hilliers had been made prisoners, and similar events were growing all too frequent. In consequence of these crushing discouragements the whole army was rearrayed. "We must march as we did in Egypt," ran the order: "the baggage in the middle, as densely surrounded as the road will permit, with a half battalion in front, a half battalion behind, battalions right and left, so that when we face we can fire in every direction." Ney's corps was then assigned to the place of danger in the rear—a place he kept with desperate gallantry until he earned the title "bravest of the brave."