Beyond institutional support, I was fortunate to enjoy the friendship and support of many people. As always, I have greatly benefited from the help I received from the wonderful people at the Napoleon Series (www.napoleon-series.org) and the Russian Military Historical Forum (http://www.reenactor.ru/). Sarah Cook’s careful copyediting has greatly enhanced the text, while Jonathan North and Michael Hopper looked at parts of this manuscript and shared their precious comments with me. Bart Funnekotter, who is researching the Dutch participants of the Russian campaign, turned my attention to a number of Dutch memoirs and kindly supplied translations of select passages. I was fortunate to get in contact with Tone Borren, whose ancestor Aart Kool served as a young Dutch engineer in Davout’s 1st Corps and survived the campaign to write insightful memoirs. Mr Borren kindly shared his English translation of Kool’s fascinating memoir. I am very grateful to my Muscovite friends Pavel and Natalya Khoretonenko, who assisted me in acquiring recent publications in Russia, while Mikhail Khoretonenko and Dmitri Ostanin helped me peruse vast maps of Moscow laid out on the floor of my living room. I am also thankful to my colleagues Gary D. Joiner, Helen Wise and Cheryl White at LSUS, Michael V. Leggiere at the University of North Texas, and John H. Gill at the National Defence University, who have cheered me on throughout these years and offered precious advice. Vladimir Zemtsov, a great scholar whose works have taught me a lot, kindly shared with me his research into the Moscow fire, while Dmitri Gorchkoff allowed me to peek into materials from his recent two-volume compilation of archival documents on Moscow during the Patriotic War of 1812. In no case, however, do any of these individuals have any share in any of the faults that may be found in these pages.
I am grateful to my family for tolerating heaps of books and papers scattered around our house for the past few years. My wife Anna endured many lonely evenings as I explored the travails of soldiers and civilians, while my sons Luka and Sergi oftentimes played underneath the desk waiting for their father to finish writing another page. This book would not have been possible without their love, patience and support.
Alexander Mikaberidze
Shreveport, Louisiana
April 2013
Chapter 1
The Road to Moscow
On a clear June day, standing on a hill overlooking the Niemen river, Emperor Napoleon watched as his Grande Armée crossed the river and invaded Russia. ‘Soldiers, the Second Polish War has commenced,’ he exhorted his troops in a bulletin. ‘Russia is swept away by her fate; her destinies must be accomplished. She places us between dishonour and war: the choice cannot be in doubt. Let us, then, march forward! Let us cross the Niemen!’1 Hours after the French invasion commenced, the Russian Emperor Alexander responded with his own proclamation:
We had long observed on the part of the emperor of the French the most hostile proceedings towards Russia, but we had always hoped to avert hostilities by conciliatory and pacific measures … We flattered ourselves that reconciliation might be effected … alas, all these conciliatory and pacific measures could not preserve the tranquillity which we so desired [and] we are left with no other choice but to turn to arms and appeal to the Almighty, the Witness and the Defender of the truth. The ancient blood of the valiant Slavs flows in their veins. Warriors! You defend your Faith, your Country, and your Liberty! I shall be with you and the Lord will be against the aggressor!2
The war between Russia and France was long in the making. In the summer of 1807, after suffering a major defeat at the hands of Napoleon, Russia was compelled to sign the Peace Treaty of Tilsit, which bound her in alliance with France. However, Emperor Alexander I of Russia did not forget the painful lessons of the preceding two years when his armies were repeatedly defeated by Napoleon. He was well aware of the widespread displeasure prevailing in Russia over the Franco-Russian peace. Although Napoleon and Alexander seemed to have reconciled again in 1808, the fissures became evident the following year, when Russia was reluctant actively to support France against Austria. The Continental Blockade, which Napoleon initiated in response to the British blockade of 1806, had a profound effect on Russia, leading to a sharp decrease in Russian foreign trade. Napoleon’s protective tariff system sought to safeguard French manufacturers and industry, limiting Russian imports while boosting French exports. With its trade with Britain restricted, Russia looked to France for trade but the French could provide neither the volume nor the quality of products required in Russia; neither could they replace British spending power when it came to buying raw materials. The financial strains created by the Continental System soon turned into a profound economic problem, distressing merchants and nobles and affecting the imperial treasury, which struggled to deal with an increasing deficit. Such economic tribulations forced the Russian government gradually to relax the enforcement of the blockade, initially allowing neutral shipping into Russian ports. By 1810 American ships – many of them English ships with false papers – freely docked in Russian harbours. As English goods found their way from the Russian ports into Eastern and Central Europe, Napoleon realized that the new Russian policy constituted a heavy blow to his Continental Blockade, and St Petersburg’s cooperation in this system could only be enforced by war. ‘The sole cause [for the war]’, opined a contemporary English political observer in August 1812, ‘is a refusal on the part of the Czar to shut English commerce out of his dominions.’3
But the Continental System was not the sole bone of contention, as France and Russia also disagreed on several other political issues. Russia, which historically maintained close ties with the Germanic states, was concerned by Napoleon’s aggressive foreign policy in Germany, especially after the annexation of Holland and the Duchy of Oldenburg, whose ruler was Emperor Alexander’s brother-in-law. Even more important to Russia was the fate of Poland. Russia was the prime beneficiary of the eighteenth-century partitions of Poland, extending its territory deep into north-east Europe. Napoleon’s establishment of the Duchy of Warsaw in 1808 naturally threatened Russian geopolitical interests in the region. Napoleon’s interest in consolidating his control over the Poles was further revealed when, after the defeat of Austria in 1809, he expanded the Polish principality. Polish demands for eventual restoration of their former kingdom only increased Russia’s concerns that she would be obliged to cede territory. Despite Napoleon’s assurances that he had no intention of restoring Poland – ‘I have no desire to become the Don Quixote of Poland,’ Napoleon declared4 – Alexander remained profoundly concerned by the existence of the Polish state and tried to convince Napoleon to give up on the Poles. Both emperors spent three years (1809–1811) wrangling over this issue and by 1812 the discussions had reached deadlock, with neither side willing to concede. Another aspect of Franco-Russian enmity lay in the Balkans, where Russia supported the local Slavic population against the Ottomans. In the eighteenth century alone Russia and the Ottoman Empire were engaged in four wars, and a fifth had been under way since 1806. At Tilsit Napoleon had agreed to give Russia a free hand in the Balkans, but Alexander gradually became convinced that France was far from willing to allow Russian expansion into the Balkans.
Thus, by late 1811 both sides were preparing for ‘the Second Polish Campaign’, as Napoleon described it, and the emperor’s Grande Armée of some 600,000 troops (including reserves) began assembling along Russia’s western frontier. Its forces were largely furnished by Napoleon’s European allies, with contingents from Austria, Prussia, Saxony, Poland and Italy. By the spring of 1812 Napoleon’s army was deployed in three groups – under Eugène de Beauharnais, Napoleon himself and Jérôme Bonaparte, King of Westphalia – along the Vistula river, stretching from Warsaw to Königsberg. Meanwhile, Marshal Jacques-Etienne Macdonald’s X Corps (with a Prussian contingent) guarded the northern flank of the Grande Armée, close to the Baltic coastline, while Austrian troops under Karl Philip Schwarzenberg covered the southern flank.
Russia fielded about 650,000 men in 1812, but they were dispersed throughout Moldavia, the Crimea,
the Caucasus, Finland and other regions, leaving some 250,000 men (organized in three major armies and a few separate corps) in the western provinces to fend off Napoleon’s invasion. The 1st Western Army of Mikhail Barclay de Tolly deployed in the vicinity of Vilna, while the 2nd Western Army under Peter Bagration assembled in the area of Volkovysk and Belostock (Białystok) in the south. Alexander Tormasov commanded the 3rd Reserve Army of Observation around Lutsk, covering the route to the Ukraine. In addition to the three main armies, Lieutenant General Baron Faddei Steinheill’s Finland Corps in the north and Admiral Pavel (Paul) Chichagov’s Army of the Danube in the south covered the extreme flanks of the Russian army. These forces were further supported by the three reserves corps of Peter Essen, Egor Muller-Zakomelsky and Fedor Ertel.
After a year of intensive preparations, Napoleon crossed the Niemen on 23–24 June, advancing to engage the armies of Barclay de Tolly and Bagration. The Russians retreated to Smolensk, the Grande Armée following them in the hope of forcing a decisive battle. Tormasov was more successful in the south, where he pinned down Schwarzenberg in the Volhynia region. At the same time Chichagov’s Army of the Danube received orders to move from Moldavia to support Tormasov. In the north Marshal Nicolas Charles Oudinot attacked General Peter Wittgenstein’s 1st Corps (tasked with protecting the route to St Petersburg) and seized Polotsk on 26 July. But in subsequent combats the Russians prevailed, forcing Napoleon to divert Gouvion St Cyr’s corps to support Oudinot. In the Baltic provinces MacDonald became bogged down near Riga. Thus, by August 1812 Napoleon’s initial plan to destroy the Russian armies in a decisive border battle had been frustrated. Instead, his army suffered considerable losses from strategic consumption and desertion, as well as the usual combat casualties. The hot weather was, according to Baron Lejeune, ‘a veritable disaster to our troops’. There was a lack of fresh water and no forage for the horses. To cap it all, the supply system struggled to operate effectively, with the wagons laden with provisions bottlenecked near bridges or battling road conditions. These carts could not hope to keep pace with the troops that were constantly pushed forward by forced marches for a battle that forever remained on the horizon.
As the armies of Barclay de Tolly and Bagration united at Smolensk, the Russians faced a crisis of command. The constant retreat had been a subject of great consternation in the Russian army and society. In towns and at court there were angry murmurs about the Russian leadership and questions about the military strategy. What was the point of this constant retreating, and why were so many prosperous towns and villages abandoned to the enemy? The word ‘treason’ went from mouth to mouth and some even pointed to specific individuals. Such grievances were further exacerbated by a discord between the Russian aristocratic officers and the ‘foreigners’ who had gained influence at court and in army headquarters. There were two main factions that differed in their views regarding strategy. Barclay de Tolly, the Minister of War and the nominal commander-in-chief, was surrounded by a group of officers (most of them of German extraction) who supported his defensive strategy. Opposing them was the much larger ‘Russian faction’, led by Prince Peter Bagration (ironically a Georgian), which urged an immediate counter-offensive. Anti-Barclay sentiments were so strong among the senior officers that they openly loathed the commander-in-chief and intrigued for the appointment of Bagration to supreme command; some even suggested replacing Barclay de Tolly by force.
Bending to such pressure, Barclay de Tolly agreed to an offensive at Smolensk. But due to differences among the commanders – made worse by Barclay’s vacillation – precious time was lost in futile manoeuvring, which allowed Napoleon to recognize Russian intentions and seize the initiative. He crossed the Dnieper river and rapidly advanced on Smolensk. A resolute rearguard action at Krasnyi on 14 August enabled the Russians to prepare Smolensk for defence, while Bagration and Barclay de Tolly rushed their commands back to the city. On 15–16 August the Russians repulsed the Allied assaults on Smolensk but nonetheless were forced to abandon the city. As the Russians withdrew towards Moscow, Napoleon attempted to cut their line of retreat, but Barclay’s army succeeded in clearing its way to Dorogobuzh following the indecisive Battle of Valutina Gora on 19 August.
The surrender of Smolensk further stoked up the general discontent in the army and society at large. To keep up the troops’ morale, they had been told over and over again that once the Russian armies linked up at Smolensk, this strategic retreat would lead to a decisive battle. But now Smolensk was left in enemy hands and vast territories were abandoned. The army and society clamoured for change and the general outcry was ‘Out with Barclay! Down with foreign generals! A single command in the hands of a true Russian!’ Emperor Alexander had to act. In late August he appointed General Mikhail Kutuzov as the commander-in-chief of the Russian armies. After joining the army on 29 August, Kutuzov withdrew the troops still further to the east, deploying them for battle near the village of Borodino. After receiving reinforcements, Kutuzov commanded some 155,000 troops, of whom 115,000 were regulars, supported by 636 guns. Arriving at Borodino on 5 September, Napoleon fielded some 135,000 men with 587 guns. The decisive battle took place on 7 September, with Napoleon opting for frontal attacks on fortified Russian positions instead of flanking manoeuvres that might have prompted another Russian withdrawal. In a savage and bloody fight both sides displayed great bravery and steadfastness, but suffered tremendous losses; the Grande Armée lost some 35,000 men, including forty-nine generals, while Russian losses exceeded 45,000 men, including twenty-nine generals.
Neither side was willing to concede defeat in this bloody battle. The French considered themselves victorious since the Russians eventually retreated from the battlefield. After the battle Napoleon wrote to his wife Marie Louise: ‘My dear, I write to you from the battlefield of Borodino. Yesterday, I beat the Russians, their whole army […] the battle was hot […] and I had many killed and wounded.’ His 18th Bulletin proudly proclaimed the French triumph on the field of Borodino and noted that ‘the victory was never uncertain’. Yet the Russians, proud of their steadfast resistance and the fact they retained part of the battlefield under their control, had a different view on this. The battle was not even completely over when Kutuzov drafted letters with the news of the Russian victory at Borodino. His report reached the Russian capital on the night of 10/11 September, when it was presented to Emperor Alexander and his close advisers. Alexander certainly saw through Kutuzov’s claims of victory, since he ordered the report to be edited and any reference to the Russian withdrawal excluded. As Joseph de Maistre described, the following day Kutuzov’s courier, with the revised report in his hand, ‘triumphantly arrived’ at St Petersburg, which was celebrating the emperor’s saint’s day. The imperial family was attending a mass at the Alexander of Neva Monastery and, after the liturgy, Kutuzov’s report was announced to a joyous public. The edited version was then released for publication in the newspapers.
News of the victory was rapturously celebrated throughout St Petersburg, where church bells pealed forth and trumpets blared. The American envoy to Russia, John Quincy Adams, wrote that ‘St Petersburg was illuminated’, while the English traveller Ker Porter described how ‘with the victory being publicly declared, the Te Deum was chanted, every voice united in the strain which gave glory to the God who had fought, and covered her people with immortal honours’. In Moscow Governor Fedor Rostopchin, who had been publishing overly positive and patriotic proclamations for the past few weeks, issued more bulletins proclaiming that ‘the accursed one [Napoleon] and his accomplices will perish through famine, fire and sword’. A Te Deum service was held at the Uspensky Cathedral and the air over the city reverberated with the constant pealing of church bells. The news spread to other towns and provinces and in the process became embellished. Thus Joseph de Maistre informed the Sardinian foreign minister that he had heard that ‘by the end of the battle the French had completely run out of ammunition and were throwing stones’. To commemorate the Russi
an victory, Emperor Alexander announced that Kutuzov was to be promoted to the rank of field marshal general and every participating soldier was granted five roubles. The officer corps was not forgotten either, and dozens of generals were given promotions, various awards and golden swords for gallantry.
The Russian army spent the night after the battle at its positions, with many troops eager to resume the fight in the morning. Barclay de Tolly spent the early hours preparing defences for a new round of fighting and was enraged to receive Kutuzov’s order to retreat. The officer who delivered it described the ‘deep silence’ reigning at the village of Gorki where he had found the peasant cottage in which Barclay de Tolly was quartered. Approaching the cottage, he ‘obtained a candle with much difficulty and entered the parlour where the general [Barclay de Tolly] was asleep on the floor, side by side with his aides-de-camp and orderlies’. He gently woke him, gave him the note which he had brought with him, and explained his mission. Barclay de Tolly ‘leapt to his feet, and, probably for the first time in his life, there burst from his lips, generally so mild and gentle, a torrent of the most bitter invective against Bennigsen, who, for some reason or other, he took to be the principal author of the decision to retreat’.5 In his memoirs Barclay de Tolly lamented the ‘greatest disorder’ that spread through the army and believed this was ‘a natural consequence of the incompetence of the people in charge’.6 Deeply wounded by the lack of consideration shown to him, he certainly had an axe to grind against both Bennigsen and Kutuzov, and he highlighted the widespread disorders in the army and described the ‘troops without guides oftentimes stopping for several hours upon encountering destroyed bridges or when passing through defiles and villages; oftentimes [engineers] tasked with repairing roads instead created obstacles with their pontoons, wagons with instruments and the opolchenye carts … the troops, unaware where they should stop for the night, had to wander round until, exhausted, they threw themselves into the mud to spend the night …’.7 Barclay de Tolly’s criticism was condemned by some Russian contemporaries and historians as unpatriotic but a few did acknowledge ‘its truthfulness, even if such representation was hardly unprejudiced’. As the great nineteenth-century Russian historian Modest Bogdanovich noted, ‘If the widespread disorders described by Barclay de Tolly actually existed, the Russian army, pursued by the resolute Murat, would hardly have been able to conduct an orderly retreat without leaving behind its trains and stragglers.’8 Indeed, Carl Clausewitz, the great Prussian military thinker who served in the Russian army at the time, observed that he ‘can also attest that there was no symptom of that dissolution which has been attributed to the army’.9 On 8 September the Russian army left its positions and marched towards the village of Zhukovo, leaving a rearguard, under the Cossack Ataman Matvei Platov,10 to cover its movement; the main army retreated in two columns, with the right wing and centre proceeding along the road leading from Borodino to Mozhaisk, while the left wing (formerly the 2nd Western Army) marched along the old Smolensk road.
The Burning of Moscow Page 3
