War and Peace

he movements of the Russian and French armies during the campaign
from Moscow back to the Niemen were like those in a game of Russian
blindman’s buff, in which two players are blindfolded and one of
them occasionally rings a little bell to inform the catcher of his
whereabouts. First he rings his bell fearlessly, but when he gets into
a tight place he runs away as quietly as he can, and often thinking to
escape runs straight into his opponent’s arms.

At first while they were still moving along the Kalúga road, Napoleon’s
armies made their presence known, but later when they reached the
Smolénsk road they ran holding the clapper of their bell tight—and often
thinking they were escaping ran right into the Russians.

Owing to the rapidity of the French flight and the Russian pursuit
and the consequent exhaustion of the horses, the chief means of
approximately ascertaining the enemy’s position—by cavalry scouting—was
not available. Besides, as a result of the frequent and rapid change of
position by each army, even what information was obtained could not be
delivered in time. If news was received one day that the enemy had been
in a certain position the day before, by the third day when something
could have been done, that army was already two days’ march farther on
and in quite another position.

One army fled and the other pursued. Beyond Smolénsk there were several
different roads available for the French, and one would have thought
that during their stay of four days they might have learned where
the enemy was, might have arranged some more advantageous plan and
undertaken something new. But after a four days’ halt the mob, with no
maneuvers or plans, again began running along the beaten track, neither
to the right nor to the left but along the old—the worst—road, through
Krásnoe and Orshá.

Expecting the enemy from behind and not in front, the French separated
in their flight and spread out over a distance of twenty-four hours. In
front of them all fled the Emperor, then the kings, then the dukes. The
Russian army, expecting Napoleon to take the road to the right beyond
the Dnieper—which was the only reasonable thing for him to do—themselves
turned to the right and came out onto the highroad at Krásnoe. And here
as in a game of blindman’s buff the French ran into our vanguard. Seeing
their enemy unexpectedly the French fell into confusion and stopped
short from the sudden fright, but then they resumed their flight,
abandoning their comrades who were farther behind. Then for three days
separate portions of the French army—first Murat’s (the vice-king’s),
then Davout’s, and then Ney’s—ran, as it were, the gauntlet of the
Russian army. They abandoned one another, abandoned all their heavy
baggage, their artillery, and half their men, and fled, getting past the
Russians by night by making semicircles to the right.

Ney, who came last, had been busying himself blowing up the walls of
Smolénsk which were in nobody’s way, because despite the unfortunate
plight of the French or because of it, they wished to punish the floor
against which they had hurt themselves. Ney, who had had a corps of ten
thousand men, reached Napoleon at Orshá with only one thousand men left,
having abandoned all the rest and all his cannon, and having crossed the
Dnieper at night by stealth at a wooded spot.

From Orshá they fled farther along the road to Vílna, still playing
at blindman’s buff with the pursuing army. At the Berëzina they again
became disorganized, many were drowned and many surrendered, but those
who got across the river fled farther. Their supreme chief donned a
fur coat and, having seated himself in a sleigh, galloped on alone,
abandoning his companions. The others who could do so drove away too,
leaving those who could not to surrender or die.