d town, occupying the plateau and slopes of the left bank, is
surrounded by a wall twenty-five feet high, eighteen thick, three
thousand fathoms in length, and defended by twenty-nine massive towers,
a miserable earthen citadel of five bastions, which commands the Orcha
road, and a wide ditch, which serves as a covered way. Some outworks and
the suburbs intercept the view of the approaches to the Mohilef and
Dnieper gates; they are defended by a ravine, which, after encompassing
a great part of the town, becomes deeper and steeper as it approaches
the Dnieper, on the side next to the citadel.

The deluded inhabitants were quitting the temples, where they had been
praising God for the victories of their troops, when they saw them
hastening up, bloody, vanquished, and flying before the victorious
French army. Their disaster was unexpected, and their consternation so
much the greater.

Meanwhile, the sight of Smolensk inflamed the impatient ardour of
Marshal Ney: we know not whether he unseasonably called to mind the
wonders of the Prussian war, when citadels fell before the sabres of our
cavalry, or whether he at first designed only to reconnoitre this first
Russian fortress: at any rate he approached too near; a ball struck him
on the neck; incensed, he despatched a battalion against the citadel,
through a shower of balls, which swept away two-thirds of his men; the
remainder proceeded; nothing could stop them but the Russian walls; a
few only returned. Little notice was taken of the heroic attempt which
they had made, because it was a fault of their general's, and useless
into the bargain.

Cooled by this check, Marshal Ney retired to a sandy and wooded height
bordering the river. He was surveying the city and its environs, when he
imagined that he could discern troops in motion on the other side of the
river: he ran to fetch the emperor, and conducted him through coppices
and dingles to avoid the fire of the place.

Napoleon, on reaching the height, beheld a cloud of dust enveloping long
black columns, glistening with a multitude of arms: these masses
approached so rapidly that they seemed to run. It was Barclay,
Bagration, nearly 120,000 men: in short, the whole Russian army.

Transported with joy at this sight, Napoleon clapped his hands,
exclaiming, "At last I have them!" There could be no doubt of it; this
surprised army was hastening up to throw itself into Smolensk, to pass
through it, to deploy under its wa