The Camp-fires of Napoleon

Two kings, one prince, eight marshals, followed by a few officers, generals on foot, dispersed, and without attendants; finally, a few hundred men of the old guard, still armed—these were its remains—these alone represented the grand army.

The camp-fires of the invaders in Russia were at an end. From Moscow to the Niemen they could be traced in circles of death. Every bivouac had its throng of victims, conquered more by the climate than the troops of Russia. Like a vast stream, which gradually disappears in the ground as it flows, the grand army of four hundred thousand men had vanished amid the snows of Russia. Upon the banks of the Niemen, it lived only in Marshal Ney.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT LUTZEN

We have seen Napoleon, with the wreck of an army, a fugitive amid the frozen plains of Russia. A few months have scarcely elapsed. It is April, 1813; and the Emperor of the French has taken the field at the head of three hundred and fifty thousand men, to beat back the enemies who have arisen against him in the hour of his adversity. Once more, in spite of the retreat from Moscow, Europe trembles at his name.

The allies have posted themselves between Leipsic and Dresden. Napoleon, with a hundred and fifteen thousand men under his immediate command, advances to the attack with his customary confidence and decision. Skirmishes took place at Weissenfels and Posen on the 29th of April, and the first of May. On the last day, the French approached the town of Lutzen, where Gustavus Adolphus had gained his final victory. The foremost column came upon the advanced guard of the allies, posted on the heights of Posen, and commanding a defile through which it was necessary to pass. Marshal Bessieres, the commander of the Old Guard—the companion of Napoleon in so much glory—dashed forward to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, when a cannon ball struck one of his aids, and killed him upon the spot. The marshal reined in his fiery charger.

“Inter that brave man,” said he, coolly; but scarcely had the words passed his lips, when he was struck by a spent cannon ball, and he fell from his horse, a corpse. A white sheet was thrown over him to conceal his features from the soldiers whom he had so often led to glory. The body was conveyed to a neighboring house, and there it lay during the battle of the next day, when the Guard looked in vain for the manly form of their commander. Napoleon deeply regretted Bessieres. He ordered the body to be embalmed and sent to the Hotel des Invalides, whence he designed to have it interred with great honors; but his fall prevented the execution of his intention.

On the night of the first of May, the army under Napoleon encamped in order of battle, within sight of the camp-fires of the allies, near Lutzen. The centre was at a village called Kaya, under the command of Ney. It consisted of the young conscripts, supported by the Imperial Guard, with its new parks of artillery drawn up before the well known town of Lutzen. Marmont commanded the right. The left reached from Kaya to the Elster. The silence of night settled down upon the camp of the French. But the allies, encouraged by the presence of the Czar and the King of Prussia, had determined to take the offensive—a very unusual course for any enemy in the face of Napoleon. While the French were reposing around their camp-fires, the Prussian general, Blucher, crossed the Elster. At daybreak, before Napoleon was stirring in his quarters, the French, in the centre, were startled by the furious assault of the enemy, who pushed their way through all obstacles, and were on the point of gaining possession of Kaya. The crisis was imminent. Napoleon, roused from slumber by intelligence of the attack, hurried in person to bring up the Guard to sustain the centre, while he moved forward the two wings, commanded by Macdonald and Bertrand, and supported by the tremendous batteries, so as to outflank and surround the main body of the allies. Thus began the battle of Lutzen. The struggle was fierce, and it endured for several hours. The village of Kaya was taken and retaken a number of times, but at length it remained in the hands of General Gerard. The students who were in the ranks of the allies, fought with desperate courage, and fell in great numbers. Schavnhort, a noted Prussian general, was killed, and Blucher was wounded. The artillery of the French carried immense destruction into the ranks of the enemy, and, at length, fearing from Napoleon’s manœuvres, that they would be taken in flank, they beat a retreat, which they effected safely, but with much difficulty. They left twenty thousand dead upon the field. The loss of the French was not more than ten or twelve thousand men. The victory was not decisive, but it was glorious, and once more Napoleon’s star shone with brilliant lustre, free from the shadow of defeat.

The French army was ordered to encamp on the field of battle in squares, by divisions, in order to provide against any sudden return of the enemy. Couriers were immediately sent off with the news of the victory to every friendly court in Europe. That night there was rejoicing around the camp-fires of the French. Napoleon once more received the congratulations of his generals upon a victory, and he began to dream of a peaceful occupation of his imperial throne.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT BAUTZEN

After the victory of Lutzen, Napoleon proposed a cessation of hostilities. But those allies who continually accused him of being always for war, rejected his conciliatory proposals, and resolved to try the sword again. They entrenched their camps at Bautzen, and far from attempting the offensive, which they had found so perilous, they anxiously awaited reinforcements. In the meantime, Napoleon had entered Dresden in triumph. There he remained a week. Finding that all attempts at conciliation were fruitless, he then determined to prosecute the campaign vigorously. On the 18th of May, he commenced the march upon Bautzen, and on the 21st, he reached the position of the allies. They were posted in the rear of Bautzen, with the river Spree in front; a chain of wooded hills and various fortified eminences to the right and left were occupied.

The action at this place commenced by the movement of a column of Italians, who were intended to turn the Prussian flank. This body, however, was attacked and dispersed before Marshal Ney could support them. The remainder of the day was spent by the French in passing the Spree, which was effected without molestation. The Emperor bivouacked in the town of Bautzen for the night. While the camp-fires of the French and their adversaries blazed near each other beyond the Spree, Napoleon called a council of his principal marshals, and after much deliberation, it was resolved to turn the camp of the enemy, instead of storming it. Day had just peeped in the east, and the fires had died out, when the dauntless Ney made a wide circuit to the right of the Russians, while Oudinot engaged their left, and Soult and the Emperor attacked the centre. The battle was fiercely fought. The Prussians, under the lead of the bold and pertinacious Blucher, kept their ground for four hours against the repeated charges of Soult. The slaughter was dreadful on both sides. At length, the Prussians were driven back, and the French were left in undisputed possession of the heights. Ney had now gained the rear of the allies, and he poured in murderous volleys of shot on their dispirited ranks. Panic stricken at this furious assault, they commenced their retreat, with such celerity as to gain time to rally on the roads leading to Bohemia. As night descended, the French shouted lustily for another victory. And there was revelry around the camp-fires of Napoleon’s army. But the Emperor’s heart was sorely touched.

General Bruyeres, a gallant officer, had been stricken down in the joyous moment of victory, at the head of the Imperial Guard. But it was not for him that the Emperor wept. About seven in the evening, the grand marshal of the palace—the devoted Duroc—he who was dearer to Napoleon than even Lannes or Bessieres—was mortally wounded. He was standing on a slight eminence, and at a considerable distance from the firing, conversing with Marshal Mortier and General Kirgener, all three on foot, when a cannon ball, aimed at the group, ploughed up the ground near Mortier, ripped open Duroc’s abdomen, and killed General Kirgener. The grand marshal was conveyed to a lowly house as the victors encamped for the night. Napoleon was deeply affected when informed of the mournful event. He hastened to Duroc, who still breathed, and exhibited wonderful self-possession. Duroc seized the Emperor’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “All my life,” he said, “has been devoted to your service, and I only regret its loss for the use which it might still have been to you.”

“Duroc,” replied the Emperor, “there is another life. It is there that you will await me, and that we will one day meet.”

“Yes, sire; but that will be in thirty years, when you shall have triumphed over your enemies, and realized the hopes of our country. I have lived an honest man; and have nothing to reproach myself with. I leave a daughter; your majesty will be a father to her.”

Napoleon was deeply affected. He felt that the time was coming when he should need friends like Duroc. He took the right hand of the grand marshal in his own, and remained for a quarter of an hour with his head resting on the left hand of his old comrade, without being able to proffer a word.

Duroc was the first to break the silence. He did so, in order to spare Napoleon any further laceration of mind. “Ah, sire,” said he, “go hence! This spectacle pains you!”

Napoleon paused a moment, and then rose and said:

“Adieu, then, my friend!” and he required to support himself on Marshal Soult and Caulaincourt, in order to regain his tent, where he would receive no person the whole night. He was again victorious. But he had lost his most faithful friends. His enemies were every day increasing in numbers, while he was only growing weaker by the gradual diminution of his forces; but some of the generals, upon whom he was most accustomed to rely, were of doubtful fidelity. Victorious or not, he saw that the struggle was to be continued against fearful odds, and a cloud approached his star.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT MONTEREAU

A distinguished historian, (Alison,) expresses the opinion that the greatest displays of Napoleon’s genius were made during his first campaign in Italy, and the next to the last in his career, in France. In spite of his triumphs at Lutzen, Bautzen and Leipsic, he was compelled to retreat upon France, into which he was followed by the overwhelming forces of the allies. His throne was threatened on all sides. His army was but a handful compared with that of his enemies. Yet by his lightning movements, masterly combinations and indomitable resolution, he gained a succession of dazzling victories, and for a time seemed likely to drive his foes from France. We can only show this astonishing man during one portion of this unparalleled campaign.

It was the 16th of February, 1814. Having conquered the Russians at Montmirail, Napoleon had left the Duke of Ragusa—the Judas of the Emperor—in command of that portion of the army, and flown to the army of the Seine, commanded by the Dukes of Belluno and Reggio. He proceeded to Guignes by way of Crecy and Fontenay.

The inhabitants lined the road with carts, by the help of which the soldiers doubled their distances; and the firing of cannon being heard, the artillery drove on at full speed. An engagement had been obstinately maintained since noon by the Dukes of Belluno and Reggio, in the hope to keep possession of the road by which Napoleon was expected; an hour later the junction of the forces would have been difficult. The arrival of the Emperor restored full confidence to the army of the Seine. That evening he contented himself with checking the allies before Guignes; and the next morning the troops were seasonably reinforced by General Treilhard’s dragoons, who had been detached from the army in Spain. Couriers dispatched to Paris entered the suburbs escorted by crowds of people who had anxiously assembled at Charenton. On the 17th the troops quitted Guignes and marched forward. The allies instantly knew that Napoleon was returned. General Gerard’s infantry, General Drouet’s artillery, and the cavalry of the army of Spain did wonders. The enemy’s columns were driven back in every direction, and left the road between Mormars and Provins covered with the slain. The Duke of Belluno had orders to carry the bridge of Montereau that same evening; and the imperial guard lit their camp-fires round Nangis, the Emperor sleeping at the castle.

In the course of the evening, one of those lures by which he was too often inveigled arrived in the shape of a demand for a suspension of hostilities, brought by Count Parr from the Austrians. He availed himself of this opportunity of transmitting a letter from the Empress to her father, and of writing one himself. Napoleon at the same time, however, had spirit to write to Caulaincourt to revoke his carte blanche, saying it was to save the capital, but the capital was now saved; that it was to avoid a battle, but that the battle had been fought, and that the negotiations must return to the ordinary course. The allies had the assurance to reproach Buonaparte with this, as a receding from his word according to circumstances, when they themselves encroached upon him with every new advantage and every hour, as fast as the drawing aside the veil of hypocrisy would let them.

In the meantime, the Duke of Belluno was encamped at the bridge of Montereau. Early on the morning of the 18th, Napoleon was vexed to hear that the bridge was not yet captured; but that the camp-fires of the duke were burning amidst troops at rest, when great efforts were demanded of them. The Emperor hurried to that point. But the Wurtemberg troops had established themselves there during the night.

Napoleon ordered forward the Bretagne national guard and General Pajol’s cavalry. General Gerard came up in time to support the attack, and Napoleon himself arrived to decide the victory. The troops took possession of the heights of Surville, which command the confluence of the Seine and the Yonne; and batteries were mounted which dealt destruction on the Wurtemberg force in Montereau. Napoleon himself pointed the guns. The enemy’s balls hissed like the wind over the heights of Surville. The troops were fearful lest Napoleon, giving way to the habits of his early life, should expose himself to danger; but he only said, “Come on, my brave fellows, fear nothing; the ball that is to kill me is not yet cast.” The firing redoubled; and under its shelter the Bretagne guards established themselves in the suburbs, while General Pajol carried the bridge by so vigorous a charge of cavalry, that there was not time to blow up a single arch. The Wurtemberg troops, inclosed and cut to pieces in Montereau, vainly summoned the Austrians to their aid. This engagement was one of the most brilliant of the campaign. Their success encouraged the troops, roused the country people, and stimulated the ardor of the young officers; but nothing could revive the spirits of the veteran chiefs. Hope does not return twice to the human breast. Several of the most distinguished officers were deeply depressed.

Napoleon could no longer repress his dissatisfaction. He reproached General Guyot in the presence of the troops, with having suffered the enemy to surprise some pieces of artillery the preceding evening. He ordered General Digeon to be tried by a council of war for a failure of ammunition on the batteries: but afterwards tore the order. He sent the Duke of Belluno, who had suffered the Wurtembergers to surprise the bridge of Montereau before him, permission to retire; and gave the command of his corps to General Gerard, who had greatly exerted himself during the campaign. The Duke repaired to Surville to appeal against this decision; but Napoleon overwhelmed him with reproaches for neglect and reluctance in the discharge of his duties. The conduct of the Duchess was also made a subject of complaint; she was Lady of the Palace, and yet had withdrawn herself from the Empress, who, indeed, seemed to be quite forsaken by the new court. The Duke could not for some time obtain a hearing; the recollections of Italy were appealed to in vain; but, mentioning the fatal wound which his son-in-law had received in consequence of his delay, the Emperor was deeply affected at hearing the name of General Chateau, and sympathized sincerely in the grief of the marshal. The Duke of Belluno resuming confidence, again protested that he would never quit the army. “I can shoulder a musket,” said he: “I have not forgotten the business of a soldier. Victor will range himself in the ranks of the Guard.” These last words completely subdued Napoleon. “Well, Victor,” he said, stretching out his hand to him, “remain with me. I cannot restore the command of your corps, because I have appointed General Gerard to succeed you; but I give you the command of two divisions of the Guard; and now let every thing be forgotten between us.”

The Emperor was victorious. But victory only served to fill him with false hopes. He triumphed again and again. But it was of no avail. The forces of the enemy were overwhelming; and at the moment when it seemed most likely that he could save France, the disgusting treachery of Marmont and Augereau, two men whom he had raised from the dust, as it were, brought about his ruin. He found, like many other great characters of history, in their hour of adversity, that the men who were most indebted to him were the men upon whom it were most unsafe to rely.

THE CAMP-FIRE AT ARCIS

While the allies held anxious councils, and were filled with apprehensions at almost every movement of Napoleon in his mighty struggle for his throne, he continued to strike vigorous blows at his thronging enemies. He triumphed at Craonne, and took possession of Rheims. The Austrians, under Schwartzenberg, were compelled to retreat. On the 17th of March, Napoleon broke up his head-quarters at Rheims, and advanced by Epernay to attack the rear of the Austrian army. On the 20th, his advanced guard encountered an Austrian division at Arcis-sur-Aube. The conflict became fierce. The Austrians brought up fresh battalions, supported by cannon; and Napoleon found that instead of attacking a rear guard in retreat, he was in front of the whole of the grand army in its advance on Paris.

This was unfortunate for the Emperor’s calculations. He conceived himself to be acting upon the retreat of the allies, and expected only to find a rear guard at Arcis; he was even talking jocularly of making his father-in-law prisoner during his retreat. If, contrary to his expectation, he should find the enemy, or any considerable part of them, still upon the Aube, it was, from all he had heard, to be supposed his appearance would precipitate their retreat towards the frontier. It has also been asserted, that he expected Marshal Macdonald to make a corresponding advance from the banks of the Seine to those of the Aube; but the orders had been received too late to admit of the necessary space being traversed so as to arrive on the morning of the day of battle.

Napoleon easily drove before him such bodies of light cavalry, and sharp-shooters, as had been left by the allies, rather for the purpose of reconnoitring than of making any serious opposition. He crossed the Aube at Plancey, and moved upwards, along the left bank of the river, with Ney’s corps, and his whole cavalry, while the infantry of the guard advanced upon the right; his army being thus, according to the French military phrase, a-cheval, upon the Aube. The town of Arcis had been evacuated by the allies upon his approach, and was occupied by the French on the morning of the 20th March. That town forms the outlet of a sort of defile, where a succession of narrow bridges cross a number of drains, brooks, and streamlets, the feeders of the river Aube, and a bridge in the town crosses the river itself. On the other side of Arcis is a plain, in which some few squadrons of cavalry, resembling a reconnoitring party, were observed manœuvring.

Behind these horses, at a place called Clermont, the Prince Royal of Wurtemberg, whose name has been so often honorably mentioned, was posted with his division, while the elite of the allied army was drawn up on a chain of heights still farther in the rear, called Mesnil la Comptesse. But these corps were not apparent to the vanguard of Napoleon’s army. The French cavalry had orders to attack the light troops of the allies; but these were instantly supported by whole regiments, and by cannon, so that the attack was unsuccessful; and the squadrons of the French were repulsed and driven back on Arcis at a moment, when, from the impediments in the town and its environs, the infantry could with difficulty debouch from the town to support them. Napoleon showed, as he always did in extremity, the same heroic courage which he had exhibited at Lodi and Brienne. He drew his sword, threw himself among the broken cavalry, called on them to remember their former victories, and checked the enemy by an impetuous charge, in which he and his staff officers fought hand to hand with their opponents, so that he was in personal danger from the lance of a Cossack, the thrust of which was averted by his aid-de-camp, Girardin. His Mameluke, Rustan, fought stoutly by his side, and received a gratuity for his bravery. These desperate exertions afforded time for the infantry to debouch from the town. The Imperial Guards came up, and the combat waxed very warm. The superior numbers of the allies rendered them the assailants on all points. A strongly situated village in front, and somewhat to the left of Arcis, called Grand Torcy, had been occupied by the French. This place was repeatedly and desperately attacked by the allies, but the French made good their position. Arcis itself was set on fire by the shells of the assailants; and night alone separated the combatants by inducing the allies to desist from the attack.

The French remained masters of the field, which they had maintained against nearly treble their number. They had not gained a victory, but they had fought one of their most glorious battles, and Napoleon had displayed not only the full blaze of his genius, but had shown the allies that he was still the valorous hero of Arcola. Many of the houses of Arcis were blazing when the wearied heroes kindled their camp-fires along the Aube. Upon the distant heights of Mesnil la Comptesse, the watch-fires of the enemy were to be seen, and the sky was redly illumined as far as the eye could penetrate. Napoleon had retired to his head-quarters, to rest his weary body, but not to sleep. He had but twenty-seven thousand men, and he was before a strong position, occupied by eighty thousand troops. He was busy in examining his maps, when an aid, Girardin, entered and announced the arrival of Marshals Macdonald and Oudinot, and General Gerard, with their detachments. A few moments afterwards, those brave commanders entered. Napoleon received them with much apparent gratification. Others of his generals also arrived, and a council was held to determine upon the course to be pursued. Macdonald was the most influential of the Emperor’s advisers at this time. His great good sense, cool, steady courage, and honest heart, had won upon Napoleon’s favor, and he listened to his counsel with much attention and consideration. In a former part of his career, he had treated Macdonald very unjustly. In his darker hours, he found the marshal’s great worth, and ever afterwards spoke of him in the highest terms.

The character of Macdonald could be read in his broad, Scotch countenance. His expression was honest, penetrating and determined. He was above all meanness. He lacked enthusiasm; but he had a mind that could calmly work in the midst of the most terrible excitement. He never appeared to be ruffled. The tone of his voice was always dry, even, and steady, as if it was out of the power of the ordinary human emotions to gain an influence over him. Napoleon eagerly asked the advice of the renowned marshal, and received a prompt reply—that retreat was necessary; and it would be well if it could be effected in the face of an overwhelming enemy. Oudinot and Gerard concurred in Macdonald’s opinion; indeed, there seemed to be a prevailing idea, that immediate retreat was necessary, and Napoleon acquiesced. But the manner of it was not so easy to determine. The army was in a difficult position. The line of retreat on either side of the Aube was rendered dangerous by the numerous defiles, where an enemy might attack with advantage. Finally, it was decided to retreat on both sides of the Aube, as a method of presenting a smaller mark to an enemy in pursuit, and of hurrying through the dangerous defiles. The council then dissolved into a conversational party, but the spirits of the generals seemed under the shadow of a cloud. There was scarcely one of them who did not apprehend a speedy termination of the fearful struggle in which they were engaged. To all Napoleon’s expressions of his grand designs, for which he had no means, they gave the reply of a shake of the head, or indicated the obstacles. Napoleon could see that their enthusiasm and confidence had been dissipated by the disasters which their glorious efforts had been unable to avert from the French arms. The demeanor of the Emperor was calm and dignified. He was Emperor of France and at the head of an army still. He was even victorious. But there was no lightness in his look or speech.