other, those remnants of corps
thus extended and parcelled out.

Sec. 17. Napoleon leaves Smolensk; battle of Krasnoe.

It was on the 14th of November, about five in the morning, that the
imperial column at last quitted Smolensk. Its march was still firm, but
gloomy and silent as night, like the mute and sombre aspect of the
country through which it was advancing.

This stillness was only interrupted by the cracking of the whips applied
to the horses, and by short and violent imprecations when they met with
ravines, and when down these icy declivities, men, horses, and artillery
were rolling in the darkness one over the other. The first day they
advanced five leagues, and the artillery of the guard took twenty-two
hours to get over that distance.

Kutusoff, at the same time, with the bulk of his army, moved forward,
and took a position in the rear of these advanced corps, within reach of
them all, felicitating himself on the success of his manoeuvres, which,
after all, would inevitably have failed, owing to his tardiness, had it
not been for our want of foresight; for this was a contest of errors, in
which, ours being the greatest, we narrowly escaped total destruction.
Having made these dispositions, the Russian commander must have believed
that the French army was entirely in his power; but this belief saved
us. Kutusoff was wanting to himself at the moment of action; his old age
executed only half, and that badly, the plans which it had wisely
combined.

During the time that all these masses were arranging themselves round
Napoleon, he remained perfectly tranquil in a miserable hut, the only
one left standing in Korythnia, apparently quite unconscious of all
these movements of infantry, artillery, and cavalry, which were
surrounding him in all directions; at least he sent no orders to the
three corps which had halted at Smolensk, to expedite their march, and
he himself waited for daylight to proceed.

His column was advancing without precaution, preceded by a crowd of
stragglers, all eager to reach Krasnoe, when, at two leagues from that
place, a line of Cossacks, extending from the heights on our left across
the great road, appeared before them. Seized with astonishment, these
stragglers instantly halted: they had looked for nothing of the kind,
and with their first impressions were led to believe that relentless
fate had traced upon the snow between them and Europe that long, black,
and motionless line as