Russia Against Napoleon: The True Story of the Campaigns of War and Peace

by Dominic Lieven

  Above all, this was because of the intervention of the Russian army in Finland. In the last week of August Alexander travelled to Åbo in Finland to meet the Swedish crown prince, Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte. The two leaders confirmed their alliance as well as arrangements for future military collaboration in northern Germany and Denmark. Of more immediate importance was the fact that Bernadotte released Alexander from his promise to use the Russian troops in Finland for a joint Russo-Swedish landing in Denmark in 1812 and urged him to send them to Riga instead. As a result, the Russian navy transported the bulk of the 21,000-strong Finland Corps to the Baltic provinces. Commanded by Count Fabian von Steinhel, these were mostly battle-hardened troops. By the second half of September their arrival in Riga was promising to end the stalemate on the northern front.1

  Though Riga was Marshal MacDonald’s main preoccupation, he was also forced to keep one eye over his right shoulder towards Dünaburg and Polotsk. This was the area in which Lieutenant-General Count Peter von Wittgenstein’s First Russian Corps was operating. When Barclay’s army abandoned the camp at Drissa and headed for Vitebsk Wittgenstein’s corps was detached to block the roads leading north-westwards to Pskov, Novgorod and ultimately Petersburg. Wittgenstein’s main opponent was Marshal Oudinot, whose orders were to advance over the river Dvina and drive the Russians back on Pskov. In principle, this task should not have been beyond Oudinot, whose corps was more than 40,000-strong when it entered Russian territory. By contrast, Wittgenstein had only 23,000 men in First Corps and, though his forces were reinforced by two other small detachments, he was also responsible for containing any attempt by MacDonald’s right-wing division to advance from Dünaburg.2

  In fact, however, Oudinot was to prove a complete failure as the commander of an independent force, allowing himself to be dominated and overawed by Wittgenstein. Russian light cavalry raided constantly over the Dvina, disrupting French communications and supplies. When Oudinot advanced on Wittgenstein’s army in late July he allowed himself to be surprised and routed by the Russians in three days of battle at Kliastitsy and Golovshchina between 30 July and 1 August. One reason for his defeat was his failure to concentrate all his forces on the battlefield. According to the Russian account, he had more than 8,000 men in the neighbourhood of Kliastitsy who never got into action.

  In addition, however, the Russian troops fought exceptionally well. The core of Wittgenstein’s little army had recent experience of fighting in Finland’s forests during the war of 1808–9. Not only Wittgenstein’s jaegers but also some of his infantry proved very adept at skirmishing in the similar terrain of north-western Russia. Perhaps it was their example that inspired the many reserve battalions and new regiments formed from garrison troops in Wittgenstein’s divisions to perform much better than anyone had the right to expect right from the start of the campaign. Wittgenstein immediately took the offensive, won battles and imposed his will on the enemy; as a result, his soldiers’ morale was high and no one carped at his German origins.3

  It probably helped Wittgenstein that, unlike Barclay de Tolly, he came from an aristocratic, albeit rather impoverished, family. Born in Russia and the son of a general in Russian service, he moved much more assuredly in Russian aristocratic circles than was the case with the awkward Barclay. In addition, Peter Wittgenstein was a cavalryman and something of a beau sabreur. A fine horseman, bold, generous and often chivalrous, Wittgenstein’s values were very much those of the Russian military aristocracy. In addition, he was personally modest and kindly, as well as very generous in recognizing and reporting his subordinates’ achievements. Combined with a string of victories, these qualities ensured that great harmony reigned at Wittgenstein’s headquarters in 1812.4

  Harmony at headquarters was combined with professional skill. Wittgenstein’s chief of staff was Friedrich d’Auvray, an intelligent, loyal and excellently educated staff officer of French origin who was born in Dresden and began his military career in the Polish army. The commander of First Corps’s artillery was the Georgian, Prince Lev Iashvili. His deputy was the 24-year-old Ivan Sukhozhanet, the son of a Polish officer. Both men had performed well in the East Prussian campaign of 1806–7.5

  The pick of the bunch, however, was the 27-year-old quartermaster-general of Wittgenstein’s corps, Colonel Johann von Diebitsch. He was the son of a senior Prussian staff officer who had transferred to the Russian service in 1798. The young Diebitsch had begun his military service in the Semenovsky Guards regiment, from which Petr Mikhailovich Volkonsky – another former Semenovsky officer – had plucked him for the general staff. Diminutive, pop-eyed and ugly, Diebitsch’s appearance had so appalled the Semenovskys’ colonel that he had tried to keep the young officer away from service at court and on the parade ground. Diebitsch was known by his many friends as ‘the samovar’ because when he became excited he boiled over, with words spilling out in almost incomprehensible fashion. For all his oddities, Diebitsch was probably the ablest staff officer in the Russian army in 1812–14. He also showed energy, initiative and judgement on the occasions when called upon to command detachments. Though ambitious and determined, Diebitsch was also very loyal to the army and the cause which he served. By 1814, aged only 28, he was a lieutenant-general, having skyrocketed past his former peers in the Semenovskys. Nevertheless, to his credit and theirs, he remained on good terms with his old comrades.6

  After Kliastitsy Oudinot complained to Napoleon that he was faced by far superior Russian numbers. Often in 1812–14 the emperor was to torment his subordinates by underestimating the size of the enemy forces they faced. On this occasion, however, his sour response to Oudinot was accurate and justified:

  You are not pursuing Wittgenstein…and you are allowing this general the freedom to attack the Duke of Tarento [i.e. MacDonald] or to cross the Dvina to raid our rear. You have the most exaggerated notions of Wittgenstein’s strength: he has only two or at most three divisions of the line, six reserve battalions under Prince Repnin and some militia who aren’t worth counting. You must not allow yourself to be hoodwinked so easily. The Russians are announcing everywhere that they have scored a great victory over you.7

  Despite this criticism, Napoleon reinforced Oudinot by all the infantry and artillery of Gouvion Saint-Cyr’s Sixth (Bavarian) Corps. Marching in the wake of the first echelon of Napoleon’s army, Sixth Corps was 25,000-strong when it crossed the Neman but had only 13,000 men left by the time they joined Oudinot at Polotsk just five weeks later. It is true that the Bavarian cavalry had been detached to join Napoleon’s main body, but most of the losses were due to sickness, straggling and desertion. During this period the Bavarians had not fired a shot in anger.

  Although Wittgenstein knew that with the arrival of Saint-Cyr’s corps he was heavily outnumbered, he was determined to retain the initiative and impose his will on the enemy. With this goal in mind he attacked the joint forces of Oudinot and Saint-Cyr at Polotsk on 17 August. Unfortunately for Wittgenstein, although on the battle’s first day he succeeded in pushing the French back into the town of Polotsk, Oudinot himself was wounded and command passed to the far more competent Saint-Cyr. The next day the new French commander concentrated much of his artillery and two fresh infantry divisions for a counter-attack on the Russian centre. With a sleight of hand rather familiar in descriptions of battles at this time, Saint-Cyr claimed that his army was substantially outnumbered. He wrote in his memoirs that one-quarter of the 31,000-strong French force was absent ‘foraging’, whereas Wittgenstein had more than 30,000 soldiers to hand. In reality, as Wittgenstein reported to Alexander, constant battles, combined with the need to need to keep an eye on MacDonald, meant that his available strike force was reduced to barely 18,000 men.8

  Surprise combined with overwhelming numbers meant that the Russians were forced to retreat but they did so with great steadiness and courage. The Estland Regiment, for example, had been formed in 1811 from the soldiers of garrison units. The battle of Polotsk was its first serious action. As part
of Major-General Gothard Helfreich’s 14th Division, the men of the Estland Regiment stood right in the path of the French counter-attack. Despite this and despite losing fourteen officers and more than 400 men, the Estland Regiment held off repeated enemy attacks during 18 August, skirmished effectively in the woods, and finally won their way to safety. The regiment’s commanding officer, Colonel Karl Ulrikhin, was wounded twice and subsequently forced to retire from the army as a result. But he stayed with his men throughout the retreat, leading a number of counter-attacks to keep the enemy at a safe distance. Forty-three men of the Estland Regiment won military medals for their performance on 18 July and the regiment itself was awarded a standard to mark its exploits.9

  One might perhaps take a regimental history’s account of its own soldiers’ courage with a pinch of salt, but in this case the Russian story is supported by Saint-Cyr himself, who wrote that

  the Russians showed in this battle a sustained courage and an individual boldness of which one finds very few equivalents in the armies of other nations. Surprised, fragmented, with their battalions isolated as much as actually attacked (for we had penetrated through their lines), they nevertheless were not disconcerted and continued to fight as they retreated, which they did very slowly, facing about in all directions with a courage and a steadiness which is, I repeat, particular to the soldiers of this nation. They performed prodigies of valour but they could not beat back the simultaneous attack of four concentrated and ordered divisions.10

  Technically the battle of Polotsk was a defeat for Wittgenstein but in fact it helped him to achieve his strategic goal, which was so to weaken and impress the enemy that they would refrain from advancing down the roads to Pskov, Novgorod and Petersburg. After the battle, Wittgenstein fell back roughly 40 kilometres to a fortified position near Sivoshin, where the French left him in peace for the next two months. During that time stalemate reigned in the north-west, with the war degenerating into raids and a competition between the two armies to feed themselves and rebuild their strength. To an extent, what happened next was precisely what Pfühl had planned at Drissa. Weakened by the advance across the western borderlands, Saint-Cyr lacked the numbers either to attack Wittgenstein behind his entrenchments or to move past his flank. Pinned down in a static position in a poor and devastated countryside, sickness and hunger melted away the French army.

  Meanwhile Wittgenstein’s corps was abundantly supplied by the Russian administration and population in its rear, which in this case meant the province of Pskov. As Wittgenstein recognized with his customary generosity, the true hero here was Pskov’s governor, Prince Petr Shakhovskoy. In mid-August Wittgenstein wrote to Alexander that ‘from the first moment when First Corps stood on the river Dvina, it received all its victuals from Pskov province. Thanks to the untiring efforts, the efficiency and the care of the governor, Prince Shakhovskoy, these victuals were supplied all the time and with excellent efficiency so that the troops were provided with everything they needed and suffered not the slightest lack of anything.’ Shakhovskoy mobilized thousands of carts from his province to transport food to Wittgenstein. The governor’s efforts continued throughout the 1812 campaign, by the end of which it was reckoned that Pskov province alone had voluntarily contributed 14 million rubles to the war effort. This voluntary contribution from just one (out of more than fifty) provinces, amounted to one-third of the war ministry’s total budget for feeding the entire army in 1811.11

  By September Napoleon was facing growing danger on his northern flank as Steinhel’s men approached Riga and the hungry and exhausted corps of Oudinot and Saint-Cyr melted away in front of Wittgenstein. Meanwhile an even greater danger was looming to the south where Admiral Chichagov’s Army of the Danube was about to link up with Tormasov’s Third Army near Lutsk in north-west Ukraine.

  In the first weeks of his campaign Napoleon had underestimated the size of Tormasov’s army. Though Tormasov’s 45,000 men had to be quite widely dispersed to guard Ukraine’s northern border, nevertheless they far outmatched the 19,000 Saxons of General Reynier’s corps who were initially given the task of protecting Napoleon’s southern flank. Urged on by Alexander and Bagration, Tormasov advanced northwards and on 27 July destroyed a Saxon detachment at Kobrin, taking more than 2,000 prisoners. Tormasov was more a military administrator and diplomat than an aggressive commander in the field. He was widely criticized after Kobrin for failing to press his advantage and destroy the rest of Reynier’s corps. Napoleon was given time to send Prince Schwarzenberg southwards with the whole of the Austrian corps to rescue Reynier. In the face of overwhelming numbers, Tormasov was forced to move back to a strong defensive position on the river Styr.

  Though this seemed at the time to be a disappointing aftermath to the victory at Kobrin, in fact Tormasov had achieved his main objective. It was premature in July 1812 to think that one or other of the Russian flanking armies could drive deep into Napoleon’s rear. Meanwhile, however, the victory at Kobrin had not only boosted Russian morale but had also drawn 30,000 Austrian troops out of the main theatre of operations and well to the south.

  So long as the Russo-Austrian border remained neutralized and his left flank was thereby secured, Tormasov could hold his position behind the fast-flowing river Styr without difficulty. The south bank of the river where the Russians stood was wooded and was higher than the north bank. The Russians could hide their own forces and see exactly what their enemies were doing. With fertile Volhynia at their back, they could feed themselves more easily than was the case with their enemies. The Austrians and Saxons were much better off than Oudinot and Saint-Cyr’s corps in the barren Russian north-west. Even so they suffered from hunger and from raids by Third Army’s light cavalry. Meanwhile Tormasov’s men enjoyed a good rest.12

  The stalemate on the river Styr could only be ended by the arrival of Chichagov’s Army of the Danube. Though in all circumstances Chichagov would have to leave part of his army behind to guard the Ottoman frontier, potentially he could bring more than 50,000 troops northwards to join Tormasov. These tough, battle-hardened soldiers were among the best in the Russian army.13

  Chichagov’s army could not move northwards until peace was sealed with the Turks. The peace treaty was signed on 28 May by Kutuzov before Chichagov arrived to take over command of the Army of the Danube. Seven nervous weeks then passed before Alexander received news that the sultan had finally ratified the treaty. During this time, fearing that the Ottomans would refuse to ratify, Chichagov floated a plan to advance on Constantinople, incite insurrection among the sultan’s Christian subjects, and resurrect a great Byzantino-Slav empire. Such plans were doubly dangerous: it was difficult to control a viceroy so far from Petersburg and Alexander himself could be carried away by grandiose dreams. Fortunately, the Ottomans did in the end ratify the treaty and sanity returned to Russian planning.14

  After hearing that the Turks had ratified the peace, Alexander wrote to Chichagov: ‘Let us adjourn our projects aimed at the Porte and employ all our forces against the great enemy by whom we are faced.’ Thoughts of Constantinople would merely draw Chichagov away from ‘the true centre of action – which is Napoleon’s rear’. Nevertheless these thoughts were being postponed, not abandoned: ‘Once our war against Napoleon goes well, we can return to your plan against the Turks immediately, and then proclaim either the empire of the Slavs or that of the Greeks. But to occupy ourselves with this at a moment when we already face such difficulties and so numerous an enemy seems to me risky and unwise.’ Alexander knew that this risked alienating Russia’s Balkan clients but in present circumstances they must be told that Russia’s survival had to be the top priority for all Slavs: ‘You can tell them secretly that all this is only temporary, and that as soon as we have finished with Napoleon we will retrace our steps and will then create the Slav empire.’ Meanwhile Chichagov’s thirst for glory was assuaged by the promise of supreme command over both his own and Tormasov’s armies.15

  Throughout the spring and ear
ly summer of 1812 all plans to use Chichagov’s army were greatly affected by fear and uncertainty as to what role Austria would play in the war. As we have seen, it was news of the Franco-Austrian treaty which ended Russian thoughts about a pre-emptive strike into the Duchy of Warsaw. In the very same letter of 19 April in which he informed Barclay of the Franco-Austrian alliance and told him that this ruled out a Russian offensive, the emperor also outlined his plans for neutralizing the Austrian threat:

  We must adopt a great plan capable of paralysing the efforts of the Austrians against us. We must give assistance to the Slav nations and launch them against the Austrians, while seeking to link them to discontented elements in Hungary. We need a man of intelligence (un homme de tête) to direct this important operation and I have chosen Admiral Chichagov, who supports this plan enthusiastically. His ability and energy make me hope that he will succeed in this crucial commission. I am preparing all the necessary instructions for him.16

  These instructions were issued on 21 April. They started by warning Chichagov that ‘the treacherous behaviour of Austria, which has allied with France, forces Russia to use all available means to defeat the harmful plans of these two powers’. Chichagov must use his army to incite and support a massive Slav insurrection in the Balkans which would threaten Austria, undermine her strength, and also destroy Napoleon’s position on the Adriatic. Believing that revolt could break out all the way to Illyria and Dalmatia, Alexander instructed Chichagov to link up with British naval and financial power in the Adriatic in order to support and subsidize insurrection as far afield as the Tyrol and Switzerland. Encouraging revolt in Napoleon’s rear was a key part of Alexander’s grand strategy in 1812–14. In the end it was to score important successes by mobilizing opposition to Napoleon in Germany and in France itself. The plan for a great Slav insurrection was one of this grand strategy’s earliest, most spectacular and least realistic elements.17