The Burning of Moscow

by Alexander Mikaberidze

  Both soldiers and the unfortunate civilians who had stayed behind desperately sought shelter amidst this ocean of flames. The fires forced Napoleon’s aide-de-camp Jean Rapp, who was seriously wounded at Borodino, to change residences almost half a dozen times before he managed to find a secure place to rest.9 Many Muscovites, however, were less fortunate and their lamentable cries could be heard in the streets. Forced to flee their burning houses, they wandered through the middle of their city, carrying bundles with their most precious possessions and seeking refuge.

  Chased by the fires, the men of the lower classes went howling from house to house. Eager to save what they valued most, they loaded themselves with large bales that they struggled to carry and we often saw them abandon their possessions to escape the flames. Women, driven by their natural feeling of humanity, carried one or two children on their shoulders, dragging others by the hand and, to escape the death that threatened on all sides, ran with their skirts rolled up to seek refuge in the corners of streets and squares, but the intense fires soon forced them to abandon these shelters as well, and they fled precipitately in all directions, sometimes without being able to find their way through the maze of streets, where many of them found an unhappy ending. I saw old men, their long beards caught by the flames, laying on small carts dragged by their own children who hastened to escape from this veritable Hell.10

  Many headed towards the stone-built churches and cathedrals, but even these centuries-old and seemingly unyielding structures were no match for the fires. In one church the residents sheltering inside it ‘became increasingly frantic as they observed the approaching fires: loud sobbing, wailing and moaning could be heard all around. Frightened senseless, everyone began to run and scurry around, grabbing various items and unconsciously dropping them moments later; everyone spoke but no one listened; everyone sought advice and gave instructions. In short, complete chaos and misunderstanding reigned everywhere.’11

  In this already deplorable situation, the civilians were exposed to the violence of soldiers who ‘seeing [their] hopes dashed, thought only of enjoying the present, knew no brake, and gave themselves up to the greatest excesses’.12 Eugène Labaume blamed the lack of proper oversight from the Allied commanders for the plundering escalating into ‘the frenzy of madness’. The troops, no longer restrained by the presence of their leaders, committed the wildest excesses. ‘No retreat was safe, no place sufficiently sacred to ensure protection from their bestial passions.’13 Many Muscovites had been killed for the slightest transgressions against the soldiers: one Allied soldier murdered a young Russian maid after she washed his trousers, in the process destroying the paper banknotes that he had previously sewn inside them; he had evidently forgotten about them when he asked the unfortunate woman to wash his clothes. An eyewitness also described how a Russian man, walking near the Presnenskii Lakes, opened a silver snuffbox without noticing that a mounted lancer was passing by. The lancer demanded the snuffbox and, when the man refused, he simply ran his lance through the Russian’s breast and calmly picked up the item dropped by the dying man. ‘From the lancer’s thrust, the poor man’s body fell onto a bench, with the head suspended over it and the feet touching the ground. It remained in this position for over a week.’14

  For days the soldiers pillaged the city, breaking in doors and windows, forcing entry to cellars and storehouses. ‘Soldiers, vivandiers, convicts, prostitutes thronged the streets, entered the deserted palaces, and dragged out everything that excited their cupidity. Some covered themselves with cloth of gold or rich silks; others threw over their shoulders priceless furs; many decked themselves with women’s and children’s pelisses, and even the escaped convicts hid their rags under court robes! The remainder, rushing in a mob to the cellars, forced the doors, and, after getting drunk on the most costly wines, staggered off with their immense booty.’15 Despite the Russians’ efforts to hide their possessions, the soldiers demonstrated remarkable ingenuity and skill in finding the hiding-places, both insides homes and outdoors. Planat de la Faye was pleased when his artillerymen demonstrated ‘the instinct and intelligence of veteran soldiers’ in finding a hiding-place behind a wall that contained much of Prince Baratinskii’s furniture.16 ‘As for our soldiers,’ noted Dominique Larrey, ‘tormented by hunger and thirst, they braved any danger to partake in the delights of the burning cellars and shops that contained various provisions, wines, liqueurs, and other more or less useful objects. They could be seen running through the streets pell-mell with the desperate inhabitants, taking all they could save from the ravages of this terrible fire.’17

  Having plundered to their fill, the soldiers often forced the Muscovites themselves to carry the goods to their camps. ‘Our main torment was carrying the plunder,’ complained one Russian. ‘The enemy sometimes forced us to carry burdens that were beyond human capacity and they beat mercilessly those who refused to carry them.’18 After delivering the loot during the day, some Russians were kept under guard throughout the night so they could continue assisting the marauders the following morning.19 In many of the houses, which the fire had damaged sufficiently to make their pillage excusable but without actually destroying them, the Allied troops found exquisite articles of luxury – furs, jewellery, porcelain, silverware and numerous other items – that they, in their improvidence, initially preferred to either food or clothing. It was a grotesque spectacle as the crowd of troops and the inhabitants of the city thronged the smoking embers of the once-splendid city. ‘The looting and burning were walking abreast. All looted or bought cheaply the products of looting, and the interest brought together more than once in the same place the embroidered coat of a general and the humble garb of a soldier.’20 Césare de Laugier could see the numerous Italian soldiers, who had initially followed their superior’s orders in trying to ‘master the fire and save pieces of cloth, jewellery, cottons, fine materials and Europe’s and Asia’s most precious items’, were now excited by the ‘example of the local populace pillaging under their eyes, and let themselves be carried away, putting everything to the sack. First and foremost the stores of flour, brandy and wine were ravaged.’ What else they were supposed to do when the city was being destroyed by fires – stay outside and watch?, he wondered years later in his memoirs.21

  And so pillage they did. Some felt ashamed to be involved in this process and wondered whether it was worth ‘compromising the dignity of the uniform’. But like Michel Combe, many faced the dilemma of ‘on the one hand, returning empty-handed to the camp and being taunted by your comrades; on the other hand, we were driven by the anger that arose upon seeing our hopes broken by the abandonment of the city; and finally, there was hunger that was devouring us. So all these factors led us to commit actions that we not only would have resisted if the inhabitants had remained, but would have even repressed with all our might.’22 More practically, many found it wrong to allow precious supplies (and objects) to be destroyed by fire or claimed by others. Thus Albrecht Adam initially refused an invitation to partake in the plunder of an art collection in one of the princely estates but later could not resist claiming a portrait of the Madonna, which would otherwise have been destroyed by fire.23 At one of the city barriers Pion des Loches found the officer in charge of patrolling, who was ‘unable to partake in the pillaging and instead was levying a tax on all soldiers coming out with booty. He thought he was doing himself an honour in showing me his guardhouse filled with bottles of wine and baskets of eggs. All his men were dead drunk and he himself, thinking it his duty to set an example, could not stand upright.’24 At the Kremlin a ‘much more revolting brigandage’ was committed as the Imperial Guard robbed not just the civilians but also fellow soldiers returning with booty. ‘Each soldier, on coming out of the interior courtyard, was obliged to pay over five franks to the Guard Grenadiers or to abandon his booty; then, when he presented himself at the interior gate, he was called a brigand and a scoundrel, despoiled and chased off.’25

  Alcohol was among the most sou
ght-after items in the city and, fortunately for the soldiers, there was plenty of it. Most Russian estates possessed large wine cellars with a wide selection of wines, ports and other liquors. Even though the fires destroyed the buildings above ground, most cellars survived intact and were ransacked by Allied soldiers, Russian stragglers and local residents alike. Colonel Griois saw a large number of soldiers lying drunk and nearly dead amid the debris of bottles that covered the streets. In one place he saw a crowd of soldiers fighting bitterly in a deep cellar amidst the shells of burned-out buildings. A ladder that had been lowered into the cellar was the only way out and one could hear the ‘terrible racket of dispute or rather fist-fights between the looters. They were slaughtering each other in the dark!’ One dragoon managed to climb up to the surface, clutching several bottles in his hand, but he collapsed after taking just a few steps and Griois could see that in the fight a sabre had run through his body. Unexpectedly, the scene turned rather comical when Count Mathieu Dumas, the Intendant-Général of the Grande Armée, passed by the cellar; noticing the disorder, he rushed there with his sword drawn, striking the looters right and left. Reaching the ladder, he seized by the hair the first head to present itself – before recognizing that it was his own cook, half-drunk, his white waistcoat spattered with wine and blood, and clutching several bottles in his hand. ‘It would be hard to imagine anything more comical than the general’s astonishment, anger and exasperation at seeing his servant emerge among the soldiers’ laughter. He did not take his sword to the unfortunate man, but kicked him and went away in despair at seeing that the disorder could not be mastered and that everyone was involved in it.’26 Naturally Dumas made no mention of this incident in his memoirs, although he did acknowledge the widespread ‘pillage of cellars that contained plenty of wines and strong liquors’.27

  Threatened by flames, many Russian residents tried to get out to safety. Maxim Nevzorov, the head of Moscow University’s typography service, who found shelter at Senator Ivan Lopukhin’s house several blocks away from the walls of Kitai-gorod, remembered how he and some domestics convened a council and decided to abandon the house, which was threatened by the fires, and ‘seek salvation in the fields beyond the city’. They left ‘as we were, without taking any possessions, since it was said that those who carried anything were likely to be robbed and exposed to other dangers’. This decision proved to be a prudent one, since Nevzorov’s group successfully navigated their way through the enemy outposts and suffered only minimal abuse. Near the Red Gates they encountered ‘a small enemy patrol that let us through but, just as we passed, one of the soldiers, a German, ran after us and robbed our companion of a flannelette bonnet’.28 Much less fortunate was a group of Muscovites in Zamoskvorechye, south of the Kremlin, where about a hundred men and women had found temporary shelter inside a church. They spent the afternoon praying for salvation but, with the fires intensifying, they finally decided to seek another refuge. Receiving the priest’s blessing, they ventured out into the burning streets, only to be ‘astonished by the darkness of whirling smoke, and deafened by loud rumbling and the howling and hissing of the wind’. Nevertheless, they pushed ahead against ‘an almost impenetrable wall of hot ashes that was carried by the winds, blinding eyes and burning faces’. At last they reached Polyanka, where further misfortune befell them. As they entered a square, they were surrounded by the Allied marauders:

  [We] fell to our knees and, raising our trembling hands to the heavens, begged for mercy and grace. But the concept of humanity was foreign to these barbarians who ignored the pleas and supplications of the vulnerable and rushed with swords unsheathed like wild beasts at a flock of sheep. With frenzied shouts and raging fury they began to pillage and beat everyone … They tore open bundles in search of precious items and scattered everything else. From men they removed clothing and boots that they desperately needed since theirs were completely worn out. They snatched scarves and shawls from women’s heads, angrily tore their dresses, emptied pockets of watches, snuff-boxes, gold and silver coins, pulled earrings straight out of ears and pinched rings off fingers … I let the reader envision this scene – a square surrounded and illuminated by raging fires, filled with smoke, stench and hot ash and pierced by howling winds, and amidst such chaos, the enemy soldiers, with beastly expressions and unsheathed swords, ransacking through scattered items and among the pitiable Muscovites, crouched in various positions with faces distorted by fear …29

  Similar scenes unfolded in other parts of Moscow. ‘It was impossible to tell night from day,’ recalled Andrei Karfachevskii.

  All that time the pillage continued: the [enemy] entered houses and, committing gross acts of violence, took from their owners not only money, gold and silver, but even boots, linen and, most ludicrous of all, cassocks, women’s furs and cloaks, in which they stood on guard and rode on horseback. It was not uncommon for people walking in the street to be stripped to their shirt, and many were robbed of boots, overcoats, frock-coats. Anybody who resisted was beaten savagely, often to death; and in particular many priests of the churches here endured severe torture at the hands of the enemy seeking to extract from them information on where their church treasure was hidden.30

  On 21 September Christian Christiani, an employee at the Foundlings Home, decided to travel to the Moscow stockyard, hoping to procure a few provisions for the orphans. He was stunned by the sight that greeted him there:

  All the fruits and vegetables were plundered, fences broken, wooden buildings destroyed and burned. The stone building, the yard and nearby fields and coppices were all full with the wounded and prisoners of all walks of life who were gathered together there. You could see here priests, merchants, servants and peasants and, excluding the French guards, they must have numbered up to 6,000 men. All around lay the unburied corpses of unfortunates of both genders who had perished at the hands of the villains. There must have been as many as 400 of them, and the manure pit was topped off with a pile of corpses. In addition, the fields were strewn with numerous dead horses, cows and sheep.’31

  Abbé Surrugues recalled that ‘the wretched inhabitants of Sloboda, pursued from place to place by the flames, were obliged to take refuge in the cemeteries… . These unfortunate beings, with terror stamped on their faces, seen fitfully by the light of the burning dwellings flitting among the tombs, might have been taken for so many ghosts that had left their graves.’ In the Church of St Louis, ‘everything was in the greatest consternation. All the unfortunate refugees who gathered in this place, bundles in hand, were resigned to their fate.’ They asked Surrugues to give them the last absolution but he begged them to wait, hoping for the best. Then, amidst the carnage and pillage, a grenadier company arrived with buckets and water; courageously entering the burning buildings, the soldiers managed to contain the fires and save the local residents.32

  Madame Fusil has left an interesting account of these lugubrious days. On 17 September, frightened by the widespread looting, she decided to travel to the Petrovskii Palace to seek help at Napoleon’s headquarters. She and her companions had to make numerous detours amidst the fires:

  We initially tried to take the usual road to the boulevards, but found it impossible to pass, the way being blocked by a wall of flame. So we turned to the Tverskoi Boulevard but the fires were even greater there. Reaching the Grand Theatre, we encountered a genuine inferno – words are simply insufficient to describe this sight … We turned right where the fires seemed to have been subsiding but just as we stood in the middle of the street, the flames, fanned by the wind, formed an arch of fire over the thoroughfare. This may seem to be an exaggeration, but it is genuine truth. We could neither advance nor make a detour. Putting our horses to the gallop, we managed to regain the boulevard …

  Returning to their house, Fusil and her companion saw, to their horror, that it was already burning. They rushed to save their personal belongings, assisted by a group of Allied officers. Unable to stay there any longer, Fusil and her friends decided
to follow a group of soldiers that happened to pass by. ‘We went from street to street, from house to house. All bore the marks of devastation. This city, so rich and resplendent only a short time ago, was now nothing but a pile of ashes and ruins, where we wandered like ghosts …’ Desperate and exhausted, Fusil finally found refuge in her former apartment, which had been ransacked but not burned. ‘We had scarcely eaten anything since the previous day. A table and some chairs were still intact. These were carried down into the street, and a sort of dinner was prepared and dished up in the middle of the road. Imagine a table in the middle of the street, houses in flames or smoking ruins on all sides, the wind driving dust and smoke into our faces, incendiaries shot down near us, drunken soldiers carrying away the booty which they had just pillaged.’33

  More fortunate was the merchant Grigorii Kolchugin, who lived with his large family near the Pokrovskaya Gates in the southeastern district of Moscow. Realizing that the safety of his family, house and goods would depend on the enemy’s benevolence, he made sure that the Allied troops billeted at his house were always well fed and well treated. The soldiers could always find ‘a table with food, vodka, wine and beer’ in exchange for promises of protection. Such an approach seems to have worked well for Kolchugin’s family in the first five days of the occupation. The soldiers were pleased with their treatment and protected the family from looters. However, the fires soon reached Kolchugin’s neighbourhood and destroyed nearby houses, forcing the family to seek shelter elsewhere. In the process, they were ‘robbed of not only clothing, but shoes and even undergarments as well.’ Returning home the following day, Kolchugin was thrilled to find his house partially pillaged but still standing, after being protected by firewalls and changing winds. To prevent any further looting, Kolchugin took on ‘a wounded French captain with a medal of distinction’, who protected the family for the next two weeks.34