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 walls, and at length to offer us that battle which was so ardently desired.  The moment that was to decide the fate of Russia had at last arrived.

The emperor immediately went through the whole line, and allotted to each his place.  Davoust, and next to him Count Lobau, were to deploy on the right of Ney:  the guard in the centre, as a reserve, and farther off the army of Italy.  The place of Junot and the Westphalians was indicated; but a false movement had carried them out of the way.  Murat and Poniatowski formed the right of the army; those two chiefs already threatened the city:  he made them draw back to the margin of a coppice, and leave vacant before them a spacious plain, extending from this wood as far as the Dnieper.  It was a field of battle which he offered to the enemy.  The French army, thus posted, had defiles and precipices at its back; but Napoleon concerned himself little about retreat; he thought only of victory.

Bagration and Barclay were meanwhile returning at full speed towards Smolensk; the first to save it by a battle, the other to cover the flight of its inhabitants and the evacuation of its magazines:  he was determined to leave us nothing but its ashes.  The two Russian generals arrived panting on the heights on the right bank; nor did they again take breath till they saw that they were still masters of the bridges which connect the two towns.