The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware

by Dennis Wheatley

  Rapp was a blunt-spoken Alsatian and an old friend of Roger’s. In fact, Roger owed his life to Rapp and General Savary. They had both been A.D.C.s to the gallant Desaix and had, together with Roger, climbed the Great Pyramid when in Egypt. Later, Desaix and his two A.D.C.s had succeeded in getting back to Europe just in time to rejoin Napoleon before the battle of Marengo. In this battle Desaix had been killed and Roger seriously wounded. Both had been left on the field among the dead and dying. The two A.D.C.s had gone out with lanterns to search for their dead General, and chanced upon Roger, thus saving him from either dying there from loss of blood, or being murdered by the human hyenas who prowled the battlefields by night, robbing the dead and dying alike.

  Savary had become Napoleon’s Minister of Police. It was he who had lured the unfortunate young Duc d’Enghien back over the French frontier and then been responsible for his murder. He had also lored the King of Spain and his son over the frontier, to Bayonne so that Napoleon could force them to abdicate. Roger loathed the crafty, unscrupulous Minister of Police; but he was very fond of Rapp and it was from him that he obtained most of the information about the strength and dispositions of the Grand Army.

  The force that had crossed the Niemen consisted of one hundred and forty-five thousand French, forty-five thousand Italians, thirty thousand Austrians, thirty thousand Prussians, twenty-five thousand other Germans and seventy thousand troops of other nations. In addition to these there was an immense cavalry reserve and the Old and Young Guards; so they totalled something over four hundred thousand troops, besides which there were estimated to be roughly one hundred thousand camp-followers.

  The vast cavalry screen was commanded by Murat, the central corps by Davout, Ney, Eugene de Beauharnais and Prince Poniatowski, with a corps under Reynier in reserve and Victor’s corps, also in reserve, back on the Polish frontier. In the rear centre, too, were the Old Guard commanded by Bessières and the Young Guard by Mortier. Upon the left were Oudinot and St. Cyr’s corps with, beyond them, Macdonald’s corps and, still nearer the coast, the Prussians. Upon the right, slightly back, there was a corps under King Jerome of Westphalia and far out the Austrians under Prince Schwarzenberg. Another one hundred and fifty thousand men under Augereau, who had taken over from Davout, were still occupying Poland and north Germany.

  But, as Roger well knew, in spite of Napoleon’s famous doctrine that ‘God is on the side of the big battalions’, in war numbers are not everything. If Talleyrand and his friend Metternich had had anything to do with it, the Austrians would be under orders not to fire a shot except in their own defence. The Prussians were there under duress and, if things went badly for the Emperor, might even go over to their old allies, the Russians. That, too, was the case with many of the other foreign contingents. Only the Poles, Saxons, Bavarians, Danes and some of the troops from the Rhineland and Italy could be fully relied on.

  As for the French, apart from the Guards’ Corps, Oudinot’s Grenadiers and Murat’s cavalry, in Roger’s view to have had to lead them into battle would have turned any General’s hair grey. They bore no resemblance whatever to the magnificent Army of the Coasts of the Ocean, which had been assembled in 1804 to invade England, and which later covered itself with glory at Austerlitz and Wagram. Over half the men were little more than boys, or bitterly resentful deserters who had been dragged from their homes and forced to march again.

  The huge army’s only asset was that it was led by the most able, experienced and courageous warriors in the world. In addition to many of his foremost Corps Commanders, the Emperor had brought from Spain Junot, Lauriston, Montbrun, Vandamme, Hulin, Latour-Maubourg, Jomini, the younger Caulaincourt, Grouchy, Sebastiani and a score of other paladins.

  Yet against that had to be set off a consideration of great importance. Not only were Napoleon’s troops much inferior to those of his early days, but he, too, was by no means the man he had been. It was over two years since Roger had seen him, and he was shocked by his appearance. The bulging forehead and prognathous jaw stood out more than ever, but his hair had thinned, his shoulders were hunched and he was now pot-bellied.

  Yet more important, he had deteriorated mentally as well as physically. Every day he still got through as much work as would have exhausted six other men: reading dozens of reports, dictating scores of despatches, dealing with innumerable problems that were sent to him from all parts of his vast Empire; but he was much more irritable than of old, showed contempt for all opinions which did not coincide with his own, appeared to reach decisions without giving matters due thought and—a weakness he had never displayed before—he was at times subject to periods of lassitude during which he could not be brought to make up his mind.

  As the days went by, it was more and more borne in on Roger’s mind that the French High Command had great cause for worry. The heat was almost unbearable and even the march to Vilna had proved so great a strain on the troops that the size of the army had shrunk. Dysentery from drinking stagnant water, heat-stroke and partial suffocation after breathing in for hours on end the clouds of dust kicked up by endless columns of marching men, had caused hundreds a day to drop by the wayside. Still more serious was the loss from desertion and this was only the opening of the campaign.

  In the blazing heat the men could march only a few miles without becoming exhausted. Water was so scarce that they fought for it, and the supply trains were so far behind schedule in coming up that both men and horses were on half-rations.

  It was presumably for this reason—to rest his troops and better their condition—that Napoleon lingered for seventeen days at Vilna. In the old days he would have pushed on regardless, caught up with the Russians and probably inflicted a defeat on them that would have ended the war; but now he allowed the days to slip away as though time was of no importance.

  Meanwhile, Barclay de Tolly, and Alexander with him, had retired on to the great redoubt at Drissa. Within twenty-four hours they realised the folly of von Phull’s brilliant conception. Although Napoleon kept his main forces dallying in the neighbourhood of Vilna, he had allowed the corps forming his left wing to follow up the Russians. Oudinot bypassed the Drissa redoubt on one side, and St. Cyr on the other. On July 18th Barclay’s army fled from it. Narrowly escaping encirclement, it retreated along the north bank of the River Dvina to Polotsk.

  In the third week in July intelligence came in that the Czar had left the army and was on his way back to St. Petersburg. Having spent two months at his headquarters, Roger could guess the reason. As an autocrat who fancied himself as a strategist, he was a menace to his Generals. During his first campaign against Napoleon in Austria, he had shown himself to be a hopeless blunderer. Evidently all his people had combined to persuade him, with tactful flattery, that to govern his vast realms it was necessary for him to return to his capital in the north.

  Although the Grand Army remained comparatively inactive up to mid-July, the corps on the left flank continued to fight a series of bloody engagements. Oudinot had been ordered to link up with Macdonald, who was besieging Riga, but failed to do so and was attacked with the greatest ferocity by Wittgenstein’s army. His subordinate, General Kulnev, not only inflicted a severe defeat on the French, but captured their entire baggage train and nine hundred prisoners.

  Bagration, too, unlike Barclay, stood to fight when the main army did advance from Vilna. Greatly outnumbered, he soon found himself in serious difficulties. The brilliant Davout very nearly encircled him and would have annihilated his whole army had the lazy Jerome done what was expected of him. But he failed to bring up his Westphalians in time, so Bagration succeeded in fighting his way out of the trap. Davout complained bitterly to the Emperor who, furious with his useless brother, placed him under the Marshal. Jerome took such umbrage at this that he threw his hand in and, without even asking leave, rode away to his German kingdom.

  The advance to Vitebsk proved a terrible ordeal. Alternately the blazing sunshine drove the men frantic with thirst, or pouring rain
turned the roads into rivers of mud. This delayed further the coming up of the transports, so the army began to suffer from semi-starvation. The country was almost featureless, half covered with thickets of birch and elder, and the few villages consisted only of a score or so of small huts. Inside, as they had only slits for windows, they were almost pitch-dark and they stank to high heaven. Cartridges had to be burned in them to sweeten the atmosphere. Horse flies and cockroaches abounded in them, making sleep impossible.

  Few prisoners were taken, but from the interrogation of some of them it was learned that conditions in the Russian Army were still worse. Army contractors all over Europe had for years been making fortunes by giving short measure and supplying goods of inferior quality; but the Russians exceeded all others and the officers of their Commissariat were no better than criminals. It was common practice for them to sell a large percentage of the food for the troops and fodder for the horses; often they simply pocketed the money and did not bother to deliver any goods at all. Semi-starvation was therefore the lot of the troops but, being tougher than southern Europeans, their survival rate was much higher.

  On July 26th Napoleon arrived outside Vitebsk. It was strongly garrisoned and Barclay’s army lay behind it. Napoleon radiated optimism. Here, he was convinced, the Russians would make their big stand. He would storm the town, then inflict a crushing defeat on Barclay. His Grenadiers attacked, but not with the élan they had displayed in the old days when led by the great Lannes. It was the Russians who displayed the real fighting spirit. Wild with joy to have at last a chance to get at the hated French, their officers could not restrain them from dashing out from their defences and throwing away their lives for the pleasure of bayoneting an enemy.

  The bloody conflict went on all day, in clouds of choking dust and a stifling heat, the like of which the older French troops had previously endured only in their Egyptian campaign. Again and again the attackers were repulsed. When night fell, the French had failed to penetrate the city. But in spite of the terrible losses during the the past month, caused by sickness, desertion and casualties, Napoleon still had great masses of troops at his disposal. That night he declared gleefully that next day the tired garrison would be overwhelmed, and the strong, flanking columns he had sent out would encircle Barclay.

  When, at dawn, the first attack was launched, there was no opposition. Vitebsk was a city of the dead and dying. Beyond it, Barclay’s camp-fires were still burning; but he had slipped away in the night.

  This gave Roger much food for thought. Before the invasion and while in Vilna, the Czar’s advisers had been at sixes and sevens. The Generals had argued endlessly; but no plan, other than the creation of von Phull’s redoubt at Drissa, had been decided on. It was simply assumed that, if the Czar’s troops failed to hold the French, they would fall back on Drissa and make a stand there; but several of the more cautious commanders had urged the Czar to take the advice that Bernadotte had given him.

  This was to refrain from giving battle to Napoleon as long as he had superior numbers. To fight only a series of rearguard actions, while falling back all the time and rendering the ground over which Napoleon advanced incapable of supporting an army; just as Wellington had done in mid-Portugal before retiring behind the lines of Torres Vedras. Thus, Bernadotte had argued, Napoleon’s army could be reduced by wastage and starvation until he could be attacked with a good hope of victory, or forced to retreat without even fighting a battle.

  Barclay having got away, the general opinion was that no time should be lost in following him up and forcing him to give battle. But for miles round, the reddish, sandy soil had been so churned up by horses, wagons and men that it had formed a fog of dust, greatly limiting visibility and thus preventing Murat’s cavalry from determining in which direction the main Russian army had withdrawn. However, the Emperor appeared to be in no hurry, because he was convinced that, rather than allow the French to penetrate further into Russia, the Czar would again send Balashov to him—this time to ask for terms. But the days passed and the Minister of Police did not appear. Napoleon then began to talk of a three-year campaign and of spending the first winter in Vitebsk.

  Bad news then came in from the eastern front. Admiral Tormasov had inflicted a severe defeat on General Regnier’s corps, and three French regiments had been cut to pieces. Schwarzenberg had apparently been unable to come to his assistance and his Austrians were now the main bulwark against the army being outflanked from the right. Napoleon had intended to bring Schwarzenberg’s thirty thousand men into his main striking force, but decided that he must now leave them far out on the wing.

  By this time the sufferings of the army had caused it to become almost completely out of hand. The great herds of cattle collected in Prussia and Poland and supplies of flour and fodder were still many days’ march behind. In desperation the troops took to indiscriminate looting. Both in Vitebsk and ranging far over the countryside around, they tortured the unfortunate citizens and peasants, in the hope of inducing them to reveal hidden stores of food. Thousands of Russian men, women and children were murdered and their dwellings set on fire. Desertion continued at an alarming rate and, as the French troops were given priority in every way, there were furious quarrels between them and their allies. In one case, far behind the front, a French troop of horse was amazed to find itself being fired on by a body of infantry a hundred and thirty strong. It transpired that the attackers were Spaniards.

  The argument at headquarters, whether to remain in Vitebsk or to advance, continued to rage fiercely. Not for years had the Marshals and the Emperor’s entourage dared express their opinions to him so frankly. Murat and other firebrands were all for continuing the campaign, but the majority were against it, including Berthier, Besséres, Duroc and the outspoken Rapp who, having on one occasion been asked, ‘How far is it back to Paris?’ bluntly replied, ‘Too far.’

  Most impressive of all in advising against a further advance, was Count Daru, the Intendant General of the Army. Being responsible for supplies, he knew the position better than anyone else and chilled his hearers with the statement that, in the advance from Vilna to Vitebsk alone, out of the twenty-two thousand horses that had crossed the Niemen, eight thousand were dead. Never-the-less in the end, no offer to negotiate having come from the Czar, on August 12th Napoleon decided to march on Smolensk.

  The Russian 27th Division, under General Neverovsky, had been detached from their main forces to act as a rearguard. It behaved magnificently, turning again and again to attack the far superior numbers of the French. It was only with great difficulty that Ney fought his way into Krasnoye and opened the way to Smolensk, in front of which Napoleon arrived on the 16th.

  Early that morning the bombardment of the city began, and was shortly followed by the first assault. Again the Russian defence was heroic, and the French were beaten back. On the 17th the battle was resumed and for thirteen hours without a single pause the Emperor’s cannon hurled their shells into the city and its suburbs. By evening a score of big fires were blazing, and later their red glow lit up the country for miles round. In the middle of the night, the Russian guns suddenly ceased to reply, but a series of tremendous explosions were heard. Barclay had ordered the evacuation of the city, and was blowing up his magazines.

  Davout entered Smolensk at four o’clock in the morning. The chaos was indescribable. The Russian dead lay everywhere, often in piles. Groans and cries came from the wounded; blinded and legless men begged to be put out of their agony by a bullet. A few thousand civilians had fled with the army, but thousands remained. Driven from their houses by the flames, they ran about the streets, seeking relatives and friends, or wandered aimlessly, imploring God and the Holy Virgin to succour them.

  In earlier actions the Russians had sent all their wounded to Smolensk. Thousands of them had been concentrated in a group of warehouses in the oldest quarter of the city. There the few doctors available had done what they could for them, but the great majority had been unable to ris
e from the boards on which they lay. When the troops had evacuated the city, it had been impossible to take the wounded with them, and a fire had already been raging for hours in the old wooden buildings. Only a few score, scorched and blistered, had managed to stagger out alive. The roaring flames devoured all the rest.

  The stench from these many hundred charred bodies was abominable. That, and the pools of blood and excrement from the dead on the streets, together with the sight of grotesquely-twisted bodies and faces distorted by agony, made many of the French sick. But it did not prevent them, with the Germans, Italians, Poles and Dutch, from beginning to loot the still unburned houses, from garret to cellar. In this it was recognised that the Prussians were the worst offenders; for, in addition to robbing their victims, they delighted in inflicting every form of brutality upon them.

  With the fall of Smolensk, Napoleon had again expected to be able to launch his legions against Barclay in the open field. On the previous day he had despatched flying columns to encircle the Russians, and had joyfully exclaimed, ‘At last I have them in my hands!’ But again he suffered bitter disappointment. Barclay succeeded in getting his army away. A week earlier he had been joined by Bagration and the whole force retreated toward Vyazma.

  Meanwhile, on the left Wittgenstein had attacked the corps of Oudinot and St. Cyr with sixty thousand men, handled them very roughly and driven them back. Oudinot being a Marshal was in command of both corps. Leading his famous Grenadiers into battle, after the death of Lannes, he had no equal as an infantry General; but he was no strategist, so things were going very badly for the French. While the Marshal was riding out on a reconnaissance, a sniper put a bullet through his arm—it was the thirty-fourth wound he had received—and he was forced to leave the field.