The Burning of Moscow

by Alexander Mikaberidze

  Squabbling and shouting among the drunken men further disquieted the already nervous Muscovites; one of them kept hearing loud drunken brawls and shouts of ‘the French [are coming]’ throughout the night.173 In the evening the remaining residents were horrified to see ‘the Bacchus devotees’ running around in the streets ‘armed with knives, axes, knob-sticks, clubs and other weapons’ and shouting ‘beat, stab, cut and murder the damned Frenchmen and show no mercy to accursed foreigners!’ Such commotion continued throughout the night, one eyewitness testified, greatly frightening the remaining townsfolk.174 These petty criminals and drunkards were joined by the soldiers as well. ‘Our soldiers go pillaging under the very noses of their generals,’ Rostopchin complained in a letter to his wife. ‘I saw them break down the door of a house and remove all the contents … I believe the inhabitants are less afraid of the enemy than of their own protectors.’175 Large groups of ‘men, wounded soldiers, convicts, workmen and others’ wandered the empty streets ransacking taverns and shops.176 In the morning of 14 September a retired Guard captain witnessed ‘brawls and murders’ taking places in the once quiet streets of the city.177 Many merchants chose to give away their goods to soldiers and workmen, telling them ‘we prefer to see you have them instead of the French’. 178 At Polyanka Square a coffin maker was giving away his stock, saying that ‘there will be great demand for them soon’.179 But in many places the soldiers took what they wanted by force. Alexander Bulgakov, who arrived in Moscow at around 5pm on 14 September, was stunned to see ‘the scenes of fugitives, on foot and horse and carriage. I could not believe my eyes and continued on my way … I soon came across a ransacked tavern and saw convicts running away from the prison. It was unclear whether they were released or simply escaped … [As he travelled further into the city] I saw our soldiers murdering a shopkeeper. Proceeding on the Basmannaya street, I saw appalling scenes … the wounded [Russian] soldiers and marauders are plundering everything.’180 The city was left without any police supervision during the army’s passage through Moscow, derided another contemporary. ‘What a horror! This caused riots in the streets and houses … shouts, cursing, threats and all kinds of violence that exceeded all boundaries. Anyone who attempted to transport his possessions to a safer place was abused and robbed in the most impudent manner.’181

  Meanwhile, everywhere she looked Elena Pokhorskaya, the 17-year-old wife of the deacon at the Church of St Peter and Paul, saw ‘carriages stopped at the gates of houses or stretched along in the streets’. Approaching the Kaluzhskaya barrier, in the southern part of Moscow, she ‘was stunned to see an inestimable number of carriages and carts. The entire street was jammed with them. Those who travelled on government missions were let through but others waited for two and three hours before their turn came. Everyone was hurrying, fussing about, and jostling, horses frequently got frightened and trampled people on foot. Clamour, shouts and ruckus all around …’182 Another eyewitness remembered ‘wagons queued one after another, carriages moving on the road and crowds of people walking with bundles and bags in hand: they were saving whatever they could. Women held children by the hand and everyone was bitterly crying.’183 According to Nastasya Danilovna, the daughter of Baron Alexei Korf’s estate manager, ‘the streets were filled with noise, ruckus and bustle. Merchants were closing their stores and packing away their goods. A crowd stopped soldiers as they marched in the streets and asked them about the battle of Borodino; some cried bitterly, others cursed Napoleon … One officer teasingly told me that young and beautiful girls like me would have a fun time in Moscow when the French came. I simply turned my back to him and left …’184 A similar tone was directed towards Anna Kruglova, the wife of a wealthy merchant, when she came out of her house to inquire about the enemy: ‘Start setting the table with bread and salt for the dear guests,’ one of the Russian soldiers told her sarcastically.185

  The story of Prince Lobanov’s servant Dunyasha offers a good insight into the chaotic experiences of those days. On 13 September Prince Lobanov, having earlier dispatched his entire family to Vladimir, gave orders to harness the carriage for himself, ‘took out his last money and ordered [his servants] to buy a horse and ride out by the Tverskaya barrier to our country house near Moscow; if anybody was not afraid of staying at our Moscow house, then he was free to stay … We, the servants, began to consider where we should all go. Six or so remained at the house, the others left for the country estate.’ Her mother-in-law would not let the young and pretty Dunyasha go with them so far, nor would she allow her to stay in Moscow. Instead, Dunyasha was sent to her aunt, who lived about 17 miles from Moscow, travelling with a noble family heading for a village in the Orel province. ‘Somehow we dragged ourselves there safely. Had there not been such distress on the way, it would have been a pleasure and real joy. Some people were riding in carriages, some on horseback, some pulling their children in little carts. Here a cow was being led, there a goat was trying to escape. Hen-coops were attached to carts … Some people were making their way alone, others with their whole family, children clinging to their mothers, howling because they could not keep up or had grown hungry and were looking for something to eat.’186

  The city was full of contradictory information. ‘The Muscovites were confused by the gossip and numerous rumours, which often contradicted one another, as well as by Rostopchin’s broadsheets. They vacillated between fear and hope, unaware where to seek shelter from the impending danger.187 There were some who feared their fellow troops more than the enemy. Ivan Yakovlev, a retired Guard officer residing in Moscow, struggled to convince his brother Paul to leave the city; when he finally did, on 14 September, his brother received news that Cossacks had appeared on the road to his village estate. For him, the Cossacks’ appearance was not a good sign and meant the prospect of being mistreated and robbed. So the fearful Paul Yakovlev ‘stubbornly refused to leave Moscow and declared that he preferred to endure abuse from the French in the comforts of his home rather than from the Cossacks and [Russian] stragglers on the road’.188 Many people believed that the governor’s orders prohibited anyone from leaving Moscow, while others on the contrary said that everybody had to leave; in some cases police actually went from house to house telling the residents to leave and, in fact, warned residents that the city might be destroyed.189 To the city’s utter consternation, some rumours claimed that there had been another battle after Borodino at which the Grand Armée had been routed, while others reported that the Russian army had been destroyed. Some claimed that Sweden had joined the war and a Swedish army was marching to defend Moscow,190 while a few thought it was, in fact, British troops.191 Upon encountering an enemy soldier, one Muscovite’s initial reaction was to inquire whether he was ‘an Englishman or a Frenchman’.192

  This confusion was made worse by Rostopchin’s broadsheets and public assurances that convinced many people that Moscow would not be abandoned. Believing the governor’s pronouncements, retired Major General Sergei Mosolov abandoned his village estate and returned to Moscow only ‘to discover the lies that the broadsheets perpetuated’.193 In naming his reasons for staying in Moscow, merchant Grigorii Kolchugin, who was later persecuted by Rostopchin for living under the French occupation, listed ‘the assurances by our authorities that the enemy would never be allowed into Moscow’ at the very top of the list.194 His conviction was shared by Peter Kicheyev’s grandfather, who, despite having three small grandchildren under his care, rejected his family’s and friends’ entreaties to leave the city, ‘believing wholeheartedly in Count Rostopchin’s broadsheets and not tolerating even the thought of Moscow being surrendered to the French’.195 The young Alexandra Nazarova also remembered that at the Rozhdestvenskii Monastery ‘no one thought that the French would capture Moscow because Rostopchin’s broadsheets calmed everyone down. Our monastery had many members of the aristocracy … and through them we usually learned what was happening outside, and everyone was saying that there was nothing to be afraid of.’196 ‘There were many who
stayed because of their stubbornness and foolhardiness. They simply refused to believe that Moscow could be captured by the enemy,’ recalled Alexander Ryazanov, a student at the Slavic-Greek-Latin Academy; his own father belonged to this group, which was why the entire family stayed in Moscow.197

  One of those reluctant to believe that Napoleon had arrived in Moscow was the husband of Elena Pokhorskaya, a taciturn man who had complete faith in his God, his tsar and the governor. He ignored his wife’s urging to leave the city while they could, proudly proclaiming that ‘if there were a danger, our government would have known about it before us and would have certainly told us about it. The governor’s broadsheets state that everyone should stay in Moscow, so Bonaparte would not be allowed to get here.’ On 14 September the deacon and his wife were still at their home when the sacristan’s wife appeared with the stunning news that ‘the street boys are saying that Bonaparte has reached the Dorogomilovskaya and Kaluzhskaya barriers’. With his wife wailing, the deacon burst out laughing, commenting ‘What a fool of a woman you are! You believe the sacristan’s wife and you will not believe the governor. Here is the count’s broadsheet. I have read it to you, haven’t I? Well then. You would do better to prepare the samovar198 and leave me in peace, I am writing my sermon.’ Shortly afterwards shouts were heard in the streets. The deacon, sipping his tea, went to the window and looked outside. Then he slowly put his cup down on the table and turned to his wife, with his face ‘pale as if coated with flour’ and his hands shaking. ‘His tongue seemed to be stuck to his palate. He could only mutter, “The French!” and then sat down. I gave him some water to drink and began telling him that one must never despair and that God is merciful. He said nothing. Bit by bit he regained his composure, and colour returned to his face. Then he stood up, grabbed Rostopchin’s broadsheet, tore it to shreds, went back to the window and stayed there without moving, just as if he were dead.’199

  Chapter 4

  The Conqueror

  ‘As we approached the Russian capital,’ recalled Sergeant Chrétian-Henri Scheltens of the Imperial Guard’s Fusiliers-Grenadiers, ‘the villages seemed to be more opulent and there were more of them. The columns of flames destroying them were also more common. At night our camps were illuminated by these huge fires. The soldiers were quickening their pace, despite the heat which good weather had brought …’ On 14 September, on just such a pleasant morning, Napoleon and Berthier climbed into their carriage at the village of Malye Vyazemy and, accompanied by the rest of the staff, set out on the main road towards Moscow. ‘The road is beautifully arranged,’ remarked a cuirassier captain in a letter. ‘Ten transports can move on it side-by-side and two rows of tall trees enclose the road on each side.’1 Approaching the village of Yudino, Napoleon encountered a steep ravine, where the Russians had destroyed the bridge. While French engineers busily set about restoring it, the emperor chose to mount his horse l’Emir and continue his trip on horseback.2 About 8 miles from Moscow he encountered Murat, returning from the advanced guard. The two spent over an hour in discussion near the small church at Spasskoe as Murat reported his most recent findings on the approaches to Moscow. The Russian army was still withdrawing to the Ryazan road, having marched slowly and steadily through the winding streets of Moscow throughout the previous night. By the morning of 14 September only General Mikhail Miloradovich’s rearguard remained in the Dorogomilovskaya suburb, with the task of containing the enemy and gaining sufficient time for the army to withdraw through Moscow.

  General Miloradovich, though not especially well known in the West, was one of the most colourful personalities of the Napoleonic Wars. Known as the ‘Russian Bayard’ for his courage, Miloradovich was among the very few Russian officers to have received a higher education, having studied at the universities of Höttingen, Königsberg, Strasbourg and Metz. In 1799 he had distinguished himself under the legendary Field Marshal Alexander Suvorov in Italy and Switzerland, where he became famous for his heroics; in one of the battles, as the Russian line wavered under a French attack, Miloradovich rushed forward with a flag yelling, ‘Soldiers, watch how Russian generals die!’ and helped repulse the attack. His fame only increased during the War of the Third Coalition in 1805, earning him Kutuzov’s praise: ‘You are moving faster than angels can fly.’ In 1806–1811 he fought the Turks in the Danubian Principalities, and here he revealed a more sinister side to his character. Alexander Langeron described him as ‘devoured by ambition, blinded by excessive self-esteem [and] intoxicated by his initial successes … He never concealed his untamed aspiration to become the commander-in-chief.’ One of Miloradovich’s principal weaknesses was a gambling addiction, and Langeron claims that he had lost tens of thousands of rubles by the time he was forced to leave the army and become the governor of Kiev. Yet Miloradovich could also be an openhearted and joyful man, who was at ease with the rank-and-file and often shared his last piece of bread with a fellow officer. His vibrant character and flamboyant sense of style often led to comparisons with Marshal Murat. A fellow general described him as a ‘rare military phenomenon. He was a knight in the strictest sense of the word, unsurpassed in bravery. His calm indifference to danger was immense and so astounding that one hesitated to believe one’s eyes and ears. His wit remained unquenchable under the heaviest fire and even in the face of imminent death he could draw an involuntary smile from his audience.’3

  During the night of 14 September Miloradovich, commanding the Russian rearguard, halted his men about 6 miles from Moscow, near the porcelain factories, while Murat’s advanced guard passed through the village of Perkhushkovo, guardedly following in Russian footsteps. Napoleon did not expect the Russian command to abandon Moscow without a fight and he was quite perplexed by the fact that the Russians had neither attempted to begin negotiations nor undertaken preparations to defend the city.4 Writing to Murat, Napoleon complained that he lacked intelligence on the Russians, although he had already correctly anticipated Kutuzov’s moves: ‘If the enemy is not in front of you, we must verify if he has moved to the right, towards the Kaluga Road. In such a case, he might threaten our rear… . His Majesty eagerly awaits news on what is happening on your right wing, that is, the road from Kaluga to Moscow.’5 By the evening of 13 September Murat was already near Fili, where he observed Russian earthworks at the Sparrow Hills6 and concluded that the Russian army had chosen once more to avoid the battle and retreat to Moscow. To Napoleon, this information was quite revealing since it suggested a Russian weakness following the mauling at Borodino and raised the possibility of negotiations at the gates of Moscow. Pleased at the prospect, Napoleon had a quick lunch before resuming his journey with an escort of chasseurs à cheval and Polish lancers.7 He instructed Viceroy Eugène and General Jozef Poniatowski to coordinate their movements with Murat’s advanced guard so that the 4th Corps could approach Moscow from the northwest and the Polish forces from the southwest just as Murat threatened the Russians from the west. Labaume, serving in the 4th Corps, described seeing nothing but deserted villages as he marched towards Moscow. ‘Upon our left were to be seen on the banks of the Moskva several splendid chateaux, which the [Cossacks] had gutted, to deprive us of the supplies they contained; for the harvest, ready for the sickle, had been trodden down or eaten by the horses, and the hayricks which covered the country, having been delivered to the flames, filled the air with a dense smoke.’ On arriving at the village of Cherepkovo, Viceroy Eugène ascended a hill and for a long time endeavoured by careful examination of the surrounding country to catch a glimpse of Moscow. But he could see nothing but great clouds of dust, which, moving parallel with his corps’ route, indicated the march of the Grande Armée .8

  The converging Allied movement posed a serious threat to the Russian army. Although the evacuation of Moscow was begun during the night of 13/14 September, the streets and roads outside were choked with thousands of wounded and transports, not to mention fleeing civilians. Thus not much progress had been made by the next morning. The Russian rearguar
d, under Miloradovich, was still caught in a bottleneck at the gates just as the French advanced guard appeared on the city outskirts. To gain precious time, Miloradovich decided to negotiate with the enemy commander. Around noon he was informed by his headquarters that the Russian command had decided to leave some wounded men in the city, and instructed him to deliver a message to the French that ‘the wounded left behind in Moscow are entrusted to the compassion of the French forces’.9 Miloradovich ordered Staff-Rotmistr Fedor Akinfov of the Life Guard Hussar Regiment to deliver this message directly to Murat but also instructed him to offer the French commander a truce so that the Russians could complete their withdrawal. To drive home his point, Miloradovich warned Murat, in friendly fashion, that ‘if the French want to occupy Moscow intact, they should allow us to depart it peacefully with all our artillery and trains’. Otherwise, Miloradovich threatened ‘to fight to the last extremity even if he had to die beneath the ruins of Moscow’. One of Miloradovich’s adjutants was somewhat surprised by the tone of the offer, noting that ‘it is not brave [on ne brave pas] to talk in such a manner to the French army’. Miloradovich snapped back, ‘It is my business to be brave, yours – to die.’10