The Southland Times PUBLISHED EVERY MORNING. Luceo Non Uro. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1912. 1812.

Southland Times, Issue 17230, 28 December 1912, Page 5

The Southland Times PUBLISHED EVERY MORNING. Luceo Non Uro. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1912. 1812.

On June 22, 1812, Napoleon declared war on Russia ; on December IS, 1812, Napoleon re-entered Paris, while the straggling remnants of the Grand Army still fought winter and the Cossacks on the frozen plains of Lithuania. Between these dates lies the grimmest tragedy of modern warfare. Tschaikowsky has embodied the Russian view of the Moscow «ampaigu in his ‘1812” overture. Verestchagln and Meissonier have painted Napoleon in his hour of realisation of failure, of utter defeat. In recent literature we have Tolstoi's "War and Peace.” and in more popular form, Merrlman’s "Borlasch of the Guard.” But the personal records of men who struggled through to the end. men who tasted the sweets of victory in the streets of deserted Moscow, who drank to the dregs the bitter cup of failure and disaster, in the stern conflict with the weather, famine, and the Russian hosts, appeal to us witii particular force in this centenary year and pride of place among such memoirs is usually given to the vivid narrative of General de oegur, who acted as aide-de-camp to Napoleon throughout the Russian campaign. Nelsons have made it accessible to the general public in their admirable Collection Nelson. The Whitecliffs of “perfidious Albion” had a natural enough fascination for Napoleon. 11 is ambition could never cry "enough,” while the British flag waved defiance. Britain had swept the European navies off the seas. Britain had aggravated the Spanish ulcer kept it open, in fact, to Napoleon’s exceeding discomfort. To strike at Britain, he had organised the Continental system. Europe combined to shut every door to British merchandise. If French valour could not prevail on the field of battle, French diplomacy would win

a bloodless and more profitable victory on the field of trade. But alas for his hopes, he soon discovered that Europe was not so completely brought to heel as his optimism had anticipated. Russia opened her ports to British trade, Napoleon's clear instructions notwithstanding. The Emperor saw at once the danger to his supremacy in Europe. If Russia defied him, other subject nations might follow suit. “The Emperor,” writes de Segm, “forced by circumstances and impelled by his enterprising character, was dominated by this one idea—he alone must be master of Europe.” Russia stood in the way—Russia must be crushed. So the Grand Army was summoned to the Emperor’s standards. The host numbered half a million when it began its Eastward march. Practically every state in Europe was represented. The leaders were worthy of great occasion and the mighty army. All the great marshals were there, save those feeing Wellington in the Peninsula—Murat, Junot, Victor, Oudinot, Davoust, and Ney. The triumphant procession began in Dresden, continued by way of Dantzlg. The Grand Army crossed the Niemen on June 24; foul - days later Napoleon entered Wilna. the Lithuanian capital, evacuated by the Russians on the 26th.

The Russians under Barclay, a descendant of a Scots Jacobite exile, adopted Fabian tactics. They steadfastly refused to give battle. They retreated in good order into the heart of Russia, leaving desolate all the country through which the French army must pass. Napoleon finally decided to take the road to Moscow in preference to a St. Petersburg campaign. It was close to Moscow that the Russians turned to bay and at Borodino fought one of the bloodiest battles in history—without advantage to either army.

De Segur Is able to adorn his narrative of events with intimate details drawn from his own experience of the Emperor and his Marshals. Thus we see Napoleon’s spirit of conimanderie. He mingles with his men, calls then by name. “He knows in which wars each regiment has fought. He stops before the oldest soldiers. To one he recalls the battle of the Pyramids, to another, Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, always with a familiar caress. And the veteran who thinks the Emperor has recognised him takes pride of place among his younger companions.” And so with younger men. “They all declare that this great Emperor, who gives the law to all the nations, ye: cares for them even to the smallest detail of their comfort: they are his true family. It is thus he inspires in them love of war, love of glory, love of himself. By the end of the campaign, as de Segur abundantly shows the remnant had lost all love of war; but the love of ‘gloire’ so characteristically French, and the personal loyalty to Napoleon were only written deeper into their hearts by the grim tragedy of the retreat

' De Segur also reports that Napoleon showed throughout signs of weakness that tended to demoralise officers who had come to regard him as infallible. The swift Intuition became laboured self-argument, the quick resolve was smothered in doubts and fear. The titanic will seemed to have lost Its power to act, as the massive intellect had lost its power to point a way. The giant found that the doors no longer opened to his thunderous knock. Segur assigns this amazing declension in power and insight to Impaired physical health. But Napoleon at his best could not have carried to a successful issue the Moscow campaign. He might crush the Russian armies; the Russian winter is an enemy of another sort. The officers of his staff note also an unwonted agitation that is followed by a period of inertness or Inactivity. Either the energy of the man is storming needlessly through narrow channels—or it sinks out of sigh: in some sluggish backwash. At Borodino only his inexplicable lack of interest in the issue of the day saved the Russians from utter disaster. At the same time the old nature constantly asserts Itself. H« faces the new facts with his customary optimism. “He was never loth to believe what he wanted to believe.” Segur’s picture of the army in sight of Moscow, his narrative of the occupation, of the surprise* when the city is found deserted, of the joyous pillaging by the soldiers, of the sudden change to premonition of evil where the incendiaries got to work, the graphic description of the burning city,'and of the beginning of the retreat —all are given with a wealth of detail that mark the careful eye-witness. On October 19 Napoleon left Moscow. He had entered with 90,000 combatants, and 20,000 sick and wounded. He left with an army of over 100,000 ; 1200 wounded were still in Moscow. Behind the combatants came the baggage trains, with 40,000 men and women in charge. "They looked like a horde of Tartars after a successful raid,” writes Segur. "it was a strange mixture of powder wagons, richly adorned carriages, chariots of every kind. Here Russian flags and the gigantic cross of Ivan torn from the Kremlin. There, Russian peasants, long-bearded, carrying our booty, of which they themselves were a part, And above all, an immense crowd of men of all nations, without uniforms, without arms, valets swearing in every tongue, and driving with cries and blows, elegant carriages drawn by ponies harnessed with cords. It seemed like a caravan, a nomad nation, or rather one of those armies of antiquity, returning burdened with slaves and spoil alter a successful invasion.” Noy, the bravest of the brave, acted rearguard, and with the remnants of -Murat’s cavalry effectively screened the movement. But very soon the scene changed. In spite of Ney the Russians, strong, reliant, moving rapidly, drew past, the flank of the Grand Army and formed in its front. It was no longer a question of leisurely retreat along the easiest road. it. became a matter of finding any road past the enemy. Then the weather took a hand —the winter came down, the cold became unbearable, and the snow marked off thousands of victims. Provisions had been exhausted. They strove on to reach Smolensk, when, they were told, unlimited sup-

plies of food awaited them. Daily the numbers grew less. Every day they had to fight the Russians who practically surrounded them on all their march. A disorganised rabble, thinking nothing of booty, without suitable clothing, most of them plodding heavily through snow and ice without covering for their feet, drew at last into Smolensk—to find all the promises in vain. The vaunted supplies existed only in Napoleon's imagination or his hopes.

Segm* tells of a French soldier who had been left for dead at Borodino, and who was found alive when they crossed the field of battle fifty days later. He reports that the man fully recovered. At one part of the journey, the rearguard found in heaps Russian prisoners that the vanguard had butchered in cold blood. Ney was the hero of the retreat. Throughout the whole retreat he guarded the rear. Often he was deserted by bis dispirited troops—on one occasion he turned to face the Russian army alone—and carried the piece of folly to a successful issue. Nothing wearied him, nothing daunted him. The straggling army lost touch with him again and again. He seemed swallowed up in the white wilderness behind them. But Ney always fought his way through. “His was the temperament of true greatness —a soul unyielding in a powerful body, united j with perfect physical health.” Alas! that the end of it all for him should be the wall, the firing party, and the death of a traitor. Murat, King of Naples, the greatest cavalry leader of the clay found no scope for his clash ; and daring. Scarce is he mentioned in Segur’s narrative of the retreat. Napoleon left Murat in full command when he deserted the Army on December 5. But Murat could not fight a losing battle and his period of command marks the most inglorious stages of the whole inglorious cam-

paign. The losses of the French side, were astounding. In 4 days during the last stages of the retreat 40,000 men perished —hunger, cold, and the enemy each claiming a share. The Grand Army numbered in the beginning half a million—l2s,ooo fell in battle; 132,000 fell victims to the vigorous winter and the inadequacy of supplies; nearly 20.0,000 remained in Russia, as prisoners. The total loss was 450,000, and of the 40,000 that survived the retreat only 10,000 were French. Yet even the tragedy of it cannot dim the splendour of that tremendous battle against apparently hopeless odds. The wonder Is that any man came out of it all alive. 1812 bears splendid testimony to the influence of a dominant personality, and its power to communicate its own enthusiasm and strength to those under its influence. Napoleon’s ambition lies hopeless—shattered in the Russian snows, but in the cataclysm there stands revealed humanity’s capacity to do and to endure.