Through Russian Snows

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Authors: G. A. Henty

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Title: Through Russian Snows
A Story of Napoleon's Retreat from Moscow
Author: G. A Henty
Illustrator: W. H. Overend
Release Date: November 12, 2009 [EBook #30457]
Language: English
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SERGEANT JULIAN WYATT RECEIVES THE CROSS OF THE LEGION OF
HONOUR.

THROUGH RUSSIAN SNOWS
A STORY OF
NAPOLEON'S RETREAT FROM MOSCOW
BY
G.A. HENTY

Author of "Beric the Briton," "One of the 28th," "Condemned as a Nihilist,"
"For Name and Fame," "In the Heart of the Rockies," etc.

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY W.H. OVEREND
AND THREE MAPS

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1902

COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
THE CAXTON PRESS
NEW YORK.

PREFACE

There are few campaigns that, either in point of the immense scale upon
which it was undertaken, the completeness of its failure, or the
enormous loss of life entailed, appeal to the imagination in so great a
degree as that of Napoleon against Russia. Fortunately, we have in the
narratives of Sir Robert Wilson, British commissioner with the Russian
army, and of Count Segur, who was upon Napoleon's staff, minute
descriptions of the events as seen by eye-witnesses, and besides these
the campaign has been treated fully by various military writers. I have
as usual avoided going into details of horrors and of acts of cruelty
and ferocity on both sides, surpassing anything in modern warfare, and
have given a mere outline of the operations, with a full account of the
stern fight at Smolensk and the terrible struggle at Borodino. I would
warn those of my readers who may turn to any of the military works for a
further history of the campaign, that the spelling of Russian places and
names varies so greatly in the accounts of different writers, that
sometimes it is difficult to believe that the same person or town is
meant, and even in the narratives by Sir Robert Wilson, and by Lord
Cathcart, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, who was in constant
communication with him, scarcely a name will be found similarly spelt. I
mention this, as otherwise much confusion might be caused by those who
may compare my story with some of these recognized authorities, or
follow the incidents of the campaign upon maps of Russia.

Yours sincerely,

G.A. HENTY.

CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS

Sergeant Julian Wyatt receives the Cross of the Legion
of Honour,
"
Mark my words, you young scoundrel, I will be even
with you yet,
"
Julian finds himself a Prisoner among the Smugglers,
"
Captain Marshall's pistol fell to the ground, and he
staggered back a pace,
"
"
On the march little Stephanie often chose to be carried
on Julian's shoulder,
"
"
I am the Countess Stephanie Woronski. I am glad to
see you,
"
The Last of a Veteran of Napoleon's
Grande Armée,
Julian introduces Stephanie to his Brother Frank,

Map showing the Route of Napoleon's March to Moscow,
Plan of the Battle of Smolensk,
Plan of the Battle of Borodino,

THROUGH RUSSIAN SNOWS
CHAPTER I

TWO BROTHERS

W
hen Colonel Wyatt died, all Weymouth agreed that it was a most
unfortunate thing for his sons Julian and Frank. The loss of a father is
always a misfortune to lads, but it was more than usually so in this
case. They had lost their mother years before, and Colonel Wyatt's
sister had since kept house for him. As a housekeeper she was an
efficient substitute, as a mother to the boys she was a complete
failure. How she ever came to be Colonel Wyatt's sister was a puzzle to
all their acquaintances. The Colonel was quick and alert, sharp and
decisive in speech, strong in his opinions, peremptory in his manner,
kindly at heart, but irascible in temper. Mrs. Troutbeck was gentle and
almost timid in manner; report said that she had had a hard time of it
in her married life, and that Troutbeck had frightened out of her any
vestige of spirit that she had ever possessed. Mrs. Troutbeck never
argued, and was always in perfect agreement with any opinion expressed,
a habit that was constantly exciting the wrath and indignation of her
brother.

The idea of controlling the boys never once entered her mind. So long
as the Colonel was alive there was no occasion for such control, and in
this respect she did not attempt after his death to fill his place. It
seemed, indeed, that she simply transferred her allegiance from the
Colonel to them. Whatever they did was right in her eyes, and they were
allowed to do practically whatever they pleased. There was a difference
in age of three years and a half between the brothers; Julian at the
time of his father's death being sixteen, while Frank was still a few
months short of thirteen. Casual acquaintances often remarked that there
was a great likeness between them; and, indeed, both were
pleasant-looking lads with somewhat fair complexions, their brown hair
having a tendency to stand up in a tuft on the forehead, while both had
grey eyes, and square foreheads. Mrs. Troutbeck was always ready to
assent to the remark as to their likeness, but would gently qualify it
by saying that it did not strike her so much as it did other people.

"Their dispositions are quite different," she said, "and knowing them as
I do, I see the same differences in their faces."

Any close observer would, indeed, have recognized it at once. Both faces
were pleasant, but while Julian's wore an expression of easy good
temper, and a willingness to please and to be pleased, there was a lack
of power and will in the lower part of the face; there was neither
firmness in the mouth nor determination in the chin. Upon the other
hand, except when smiling or talking, Frank's lips were closely pressed
together, and his square chin and jaw clearly indicated firmness of will
and tenacity of purpose. Julian was his aunt's favourite, and was one of
the most popular boys at his school. He liked being popular, and as long
as it did not put him to any great personal trouble was always ready to
fall in with any proposal, to take part in every prank, to lend or give
money if he had it in his pocket, to sympathize with any one in
trouble.

"He has the most generous disposition of any boy I ever saw!" his aunt
would frequently declare. "He's always ready to oblige. No matter what
he is doing, he will throw it aside in a moment if I want anything done,
or ask him to go on an errand into the town. Frank is very nice, he is
very kind and all that sort of thing, but he goes his own way more, and
I don't find him quite so willing to oblige as Julian; but then, of
course, he is much younger, and one can't expect a boy of twelve to be
as thoughtful to an old woman as a young fellow of nearly seventeen."

As time went on the difference in their characters became still more
marked. Julian had left school a year after his father's death, and had
since been doing nothing in particular. He had talked vaguely of going
into the army, and his father's long services would have given him a
claim for a commission had he decided upon writing to ask for one, but
Julian could never bring himself to decide upon anything. Had there been
an old friend of his father's at hand ready to settle the matter for him
he would have made no opposition whatever, but his aunt was altogether
opposed to the idea, and so far from urging him to move in the matter
she was always ready to say, whenever it happened to be mentioned,
"There is no hurry, my dear Julian. We hear terrible stories of the
hardships that the soldiers suffer in Spain; and although, if you decide
upon going, of course I can't say no, still there can be no hurry about
it."

This was quite Julian's own opinion. He was very comfortable where he
was. He was his own master, and could do as he liked. He was amply
supplied with pocket-money by his aunt; he was fond of sailing, fishing,
and shooting; and as he was a general favourite among the boatmen and
fishermen he was able to indulge in his fondness for the sea to as large
an extent as he pleased, though it was but seldom that he had a chance
of a day's shooting. Julian had other tastes of a less healthy
character; he was fond of billiards and of society, he had a fine voice
and a taste for music, and the society he chose was not that most
calculated to do him good. He spent less and less of his time at home,
and rarely returned of an evening until the other members of the
household were in bed. Whatever his aunt thought of the matter she never
remonstrated with him, and was always ready to make the excuse to
herself, "I can't expect a fine young fellow like that to be tied to an
old woman's apron-strings. Young men will be young men, and it is only
natural that he should find it dull at home."

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