原帖由 iron duke 于 2007-5-6 01:40 发表 
斯戴芬尼在违纪找到了，是欧仁的表妹。
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Napoleon_I_of_France#Marriag ...
厉害！读过欧仁的传记都不知道他有个叫斯戴芬尼的表妹，真是惭愧。
圣西尔在1812年在8月17-18日普罗图斯之战，在负伤情况下精细算出两支优势俄军位置并连破之。，获元帅。
回答完全正确。圣西尔精于计算，作战计划极有条理，这里有普罗图斯的较详细叙述：
http://www.napoleonic-literature.com/Book_15/V1C5.htm
In the first battle of Polotsk, in the advance to Moscow, Oudinot, with his corps, was assaulted by Wittgenstein, and the French marshal was wounded. St. Cyr immediately succeeded him as commander-in-chief of the army, composes of thirty thousand men. This was what he had long desired. Disliking to serve under any other officer, the moment his actions were unfettered he exhibited his great qualities as a military leader. He immediately adopted his own plan of operations, and with that clearness of perception and grasp of knowledge which distinguished him proceeded to put it in execution. For a whole day after the engagement in which Oudinot was wounded, he kept the Russian general quiet by sending proposals respecting the removal of the wounded, and by making demonstrations of a retreat. But as soon as darkness closed over the armies he began in silence to rally his men, and, arranging them in three columns, by five in the morning was ready for battle. The signal was given—the artillery opened its destructive fire, rousing up the Russian bear ere the morning broke, and his three columns poured in resistless strength on the enemy, carrying everything before them. But, even in the moment of victory, St. Cyr came very near being killed. A French battery, suddenly charged by a company of Russian horse, was carried, and the brigade sent to support it being overthrown and borne back over the cannon, that dared not open lest they should sweep down their own troops, spread disorder in their flight. The cannoneers were sabred at their pieces, and the French horse, overwhelmed in the general confusion, also fled, overturning the commander-in-chief and his staff, and sending terror and dismay through the ranks. St. Cyr was compelled to flee on foot, and finally threw himself into a ravine to prevent being trampled under the hoofs of the charging horse. The French cuirassiers, however, soon put an end to this sudden irruption, and drove the daring dragoons into the woods. The victory was complete, and a thousand prisoners remained in the hands of St. Cyr, and the marshal's baton was given him as a reward for his bravery.
Here he remained for two months, while Wittgenstein kept at a respectful distance. In the mean time Moscow had blazed over the army of the empire, and the disheartened and diminished host was about to turn its back on the smoldering capital and flee from the fury of a northern winter. Wittgenstein, who had not been idle, though he dared not to attack St. Cyr, had by constant reinforcements more than doubled his army. The French commander, on the other hand, had carried on a partisan warfare for two months, which, together with sickness and suffering, had reduced his army one-half; so that in the middle of October he had but seventeen thousand men, while the Russian army amounted to fifty-two thousand. To add to the peril of his position, another Russian army, under Steingell, was rapidly moving down to hem him in while Napoleon, three hundred miles in the rear, was sealing his fate by tarrying around Moscow. Macdonald was the only person from whom he could hope for succor, and he sent pressing requests to him for reinforcements. But that brave commander had already discovered signs of defection in his Prussian allies and dared not weaken his force. St. Cyr, therefore, was left to meet his fate alone. As of on purpose to insure lis ruin, he was without intrenchments, not having received orders from the Emperor to erect them. Secure of his prey, the Russian general, on the 18th of October, bore down with his overwhelming force on the French lines.
The battle at once became furious. St. Cyr was one of the first struck. Smitten by a musket-ball, he could neither ride his horse nor keep his feet—still he would not retire. Everything depended on his presence and personal supervision; for the struggle against such fearful odds was to be a stern one. Pale and feeble, yet self-collected and clear-minded as ever, he was borne about by his officers amid the storm of battle, cheering on his men again and again to the desperate charge. Seven times did the Russian thousands sweep like a resistless flood over the partial redoubts, and seven times did St. Cyr steadily hurl them back, till night closed the scene, and fourteen thousand men slept on the field of victory they had wrung from the grasp of fifth thousand. When the morning dawned, the Russian general seemed in no hurry to renew the attack. St Cyr arose from his feverish couch, where the pain from his wound and his intense anxiety had kept him tossing the long night, and was borne again to the field of battle. He perceived at once that the hesitation of the enemy did not arise from fear of a repulse, but from some expected maneuver which was to be the signal of assault; and so he stood in suspense, hour after hour, firmly awaiting the approach of the dense masses that darkened the woods before him, till, at ten o'clock, an aid-de-camp was seen spurring at a furious gallop over the bridge, the hoofs of his horse striking fire on the pavements as he dashed through the village toward the commander-in-chief, Steingell, with thirteen thousand Russians, had come, and was rapidly marching along the other side of the river to assail him in rear. Hemmed in between these two armies, St. Cyr must inevitably be crushed. Imagine for a moment, his desperate condition. Polotsk stands on the left side of the Dwina, as you ascend it, with only one bridge crossing the river to the right bank. Behind this wooden town St. Cyr had drawn up his forces in order of battle, with the formidable masses of the Russian army in front, threatening every moment to overwhelm him. In the mean time, word was brought that thirteen thousand fresh troops were approaching the bridge on the other side, cutting off all hopes of retreat. Here were two armies, numbering together more than sixty thousand men, drawing every moment nearer together to crush between them fourteen thousand French soldiers commanded by a wounded general. But St. Cyr, forgetting his wound, summoned all his energies to meet the crisis that was approaching. He gave his orders in that quiet, determined tone which indicates the settled purpose of a stern and powerful mind. Unseen by Wittgenstein he despatched three regiments across the river to check the progress of Steingell, while he, with his weakened forces, should withstand the shock of the Russian army before him as best he could. Thus the two armies stood watching each other, while the roar of artillery on the farther side approached nearer and nearer every moment, showing that the enemy was sweeping before him the few regiments that had been sent to retard him. At length the French batteries which had been planted on the farther bank of the Dwina to protect the camp were wheeled round, ready to fire on the new enemy, which was expected every moment to emerge into view. At this sight a loud shout of joy rolled along the Russian lines, for they now deemed their prey secure. But the Russian general still delayed the signal of attack till he should see the head of Steingell's columns.
In consternation the French generals gathered around St. Cyr, urging him to retreat; but he steadily refused all their counsel and urgent appeals, declaring that with his first retrograde movement the Russian army would descend upon him, and that his only hope was in delay. If Steingell did not make his appearance before dark, he could retreat under the cover of night; but to fall back now was to precipitate an attack that was most unaccountably delayed. For three mortal hours he stood and listened to the roar of the enemy's cannon, shaking the banks of the river as it mowed its way toward the bridge; now gazing on the opposite shore, now on the fifty thousand Russians before him in order of battle, and now on his own band of heroes, till his agitation became agony. Minutes seemed lengthened into hours, and he kept incessantly pulling out his watch, looking at it, and then at the tardy sun, which his eager gaze seemed almost to push down the sky.
The blazing fire-ball, as it stooped to the western horizon, sending its flashing beams over the battle array on the shores of the Dwina, never before seemed so slow in its motions. St. Cyr afterward declared that he never in his life was so agitated as in the three hours of suspense he then endured. The shock and the overthrow can be borne by a brave heart; but, in a state of utter uncertainty, to stand and watch the dial's face, on whose slow-moving shadow rests everything, is too much for the calmest heart. At length, when within a half-hour's march of the bridge, Steingell halted. Had he kept on a few minutes longer, the head of his columns would have appeared in sight, which would have been the signal of a general attack. Nothing could have been more favorable to St. Cyr than this unexpected halt; and a dense fog soon after spreading over the river, wrapping the three armies in its folds, hastened on the night and relieved his anxious heart. The artillery was immediately sent over the bridge, and his divisions were pressing noiselessly as possible after it, when Legrand foolishly set fire to his camp, so as not to let it fall into the hands of the enemy. The other divisions followed his example, and in a moment the whole line was in a blaze. This rash act immediately revealed to the enemy the whole movements. Its batteries opened at once, the roused columns came hurrying onward, while blazing bombs, hissing through the fog in every direction, fell on the town, which blazed up in the darkness, making a red and lurid light, by which the two armies fought—the one for existence, the other for victory. Amid the burning dwellings the wounded marshal stood, and contested every inch of ground with the energy of despair; and slowly retiring over the blazing timbers, by the light of the conflagration, brought off his army in perfect order, though bleeding at every step. It was three o'clock in the morning before the Russians got possession of the town. In the mean time St. Cyr had gained the farther bank, and destroyed the bridge in the face of the enemy, and stood ready for Steingell, who had soundly slept amid all the uproar and strife of that wild night. The latter seemed under the influence of some unaccountable spell, and could not have acted worse had he been bribed by the French. In the morning, when he aroused himself for battle, St. Cyr was upon him, and, after relieving him of one-sixth of his army, drove him into the wood several miles from the place of action. Ten thousand Russians had fallen in these three days of glory to St. Cyr.
This brave marshal, though wounded, was compelled, on account of dissensions among the generals, to keep command of his troops and commence his retreat. Reversing Napoleon's mode of retreat from Moscow, he, with ten thousand men, kept nearly fifty thousand at bay; so that they did not make more than three marches in eight days. After eleven days of toil and combat and suffering, in which he, though wounded, had exhibited a skill, courage, and tenacity seldom surpassed, he at length effected a junction with Victor, who had marched from Smolensko to meet him.
After the termination of that disastrous campaign he is seen next year at Dresden, struggling to uphold the tottering throne of Napoleon. With twenty thousand men he was operating round the city, and, fearing that the allies would make a demonstration upon it, wrote to that effect to Napoleon, who was combating Blucher in Silesia. But the latter did not agree with him, and kept pushing his projects in the quarter where he then was, when the astounding intelligence was brought him that the allied forces were marching on Dresden. St. Cyr saw at once his danger, and prepared, as well as his means permitted, to meet it. But after some fierce fighting with Wittgenstein's advanced guard—his old foe of Polotsk, in Russia—he retired within the redoubts of Dresden and patiently waited the result.
先以做出撤退假像迷惑敌人，然后一夜之内收拢全军组织进攻，早上5点全部准备完毕，以强兵突击俄军侧翼，亲临前线，真是有勇有谋的将军。
10月份维特根斯坦指挥大军卷土重来，圣西尔率领法军血战，打退俄军7次正面进攻。虽然最后寡不敌众而撤退，但撤退前指挥巴伐利亚人击败斯泰恩格尔军，很不容易。
按皇帝的评语，圣西尔从来不上前线，这是不真实的，不过不爱与士兵接触倒是真的。
另附上圣西尔年轻时的样子和描写那次战役的版画 |
楼主: tntxhy
发表于 2007-5-6 02:53:48
