The Burning of Moscow

by Alexander Mikaberidze

  This resulted in many ‘outlandish and deplorable scenes’, recalled Ysarn, who had visited the money exchange at Nikolskaya street, where for silver money one could ‘have as many bags of copper coins as he wanted. The challenge was carrying the money away, first, because of its heavy weight and second, due to the crowd that gathered there.’ Great was the competition to obtain a sack. There was shoving and shouting, blows from the flat end of the sword, and outright robbing. ‘I saw, for example, women desperately trying to carry away bags on each shoulder but just as they were about to leave looters attacked and robbed them,’ recalled Ysarn. ‘Shouts, insults, blows, confusion all around; soldiers, swords in hand, came to put an end to the disorder and delivered blows right and left to disperse the crowd … Imagine this spectacle in the crowded Nikolskaya street, where numerous sellers and buyers congregated. Having gone to see this crowd, I was obliged to inch along the wall out of fear of becoming more than a spectator.’ The next morning the French, having learnt their lesson the previous day, kept the crowd outside the walls and forbade entry to the lowly people. Some soldiers took a stand at the windows of the courts of justice, and set up an office for the exchange of money. After receiving the payment for a sack of 25 rubles, they would throw the bag out of the window. The crowd would then surround the buyers and make a rush for the sacks, facing even musket-shots in their delirium of greed.228 The buyers, excited by their acquisitions, however, were ‘frequently stopped and robbed by passing enemy soldiers’.229

  Once the fires had subsided, markets began to spring up all across the city. Despite the measures taken to end the pillaging, soldiers had already accumulated plenty of booty that they were now keen to trade and exchange. ‘The streets looked like a veritable fair, all of whose participants, both sellers and buyers, were military men … Driven by the lust for plunder as well as shortages of necessities, soldiers of all ranks and from all corps left their camps and flocked to Moscow … They had all turned merchant and it was to them that officers of every rank came to provision themselves.’230 The Imperial Guard seems to have been particularly active in this regard, and Thirion accused the Guardsmen of particularly obnoxious behaviour. They set up numerous ‘shops’ and sold everything at high profit to the rest of the army. Because of this, the army thereafter called them ‘the merchants or Jews of Moscow’.231 The Guard paid little heed to its commanders’ orders and even senior officers of the Guard were keen on procuring and trading their emplettes or ‘little purchases’.232 But the trade in plunder went even further up the chain of command. Many generals were busy buying silver ingots or silverware, jewels and precious stones. With winter expected to set in soon, furs were particularly popular among both officers and the rank-and-file soldiers. Upset that he could not find a ‘really pretty or rare’ fur coat, Peyrusse was finally able to get a pretty one from Roustam, Napoleon’s mamluk, for 250 francs.233 Lieutenant J.L. Henckens of the 6th Chasseurs à Cheval remembered many of his men returning to their lodgings at the ‘Grand Theatre’ with numerous items, including ‘a sack full of gold watches’ and numerous ‘long shawls of very striking colours’. He was particularly pleased when one of his patrols stumbled on a store of furs, since cold weather was expected at any time and these furs would come in very handy then. In what soon proved to be a prudent move, Henckens and his comrades, including one man who had trained as a tailor, sat down to sew waistcoats.234 Less practical was Paul de Bourgoing who, ‘with youthful light-headedness and lack of foresight’, ignored ‘the amplest and warmest fur coats’ and instead went for the ‘most elegant in shape and colour’. He bought a ‘very pretty Polish-style coat in dark blue cloth, richly adorned with silken fringes and lined with black astrakhan. At that moment I thought much more of my own pleasure, walking about in my general’s suite with an elegant garment in the presence of [pretty actresses], than of arming myself against the icy winds.’235

  Chapter 8

  ‘By Accident or Malice?’ Who Burned Moscow?

  Count Rostopchin is widely believed to have caused the destruction of Moscow. Both his contemporaries and later generations almost universally accepted that the governor’s plan of action was to burn the city and that he carried it out with the help of numerous ‘gaunt and bearded prisoners and madmen’1 whom he had set free on the eve of the occupation. ‘The Russian army retreated through Moscow, which Rostopchin burned,’ noted Heinrich Friedrich Karl Reichsfreiherr vom und zum Stein, the famed Prussian statesman living in exile in Russia, in his diary on 23 September.2 ‘Responsibility for the fire, which destroyed three-quarters of the wooden town, lay with its governor, Rostopchin,’ proclaims one modern historian,3 while another refers to the fire as the ‘act of a man driven insane’, who ‘had ordered that Moscow should burn to the ground rather than be possessed by the French’.4 Writing in 1985, the British historian Nigel Nicolson assured his readers that ‘today when we can sift all the evidence, there can remain little doubt that the conflagration was started deliberately by Rostopchin’s order’. In his new history of Moscow, American historian Alexander M. Martin also directly points the finger at Rostopchin, who ‘ordered the city to be burned’ to deny Napoleon winter quarters.5

  To support their accusations, historians usually point to the governor’s orders to remove the fire-engines and to his repeated proclamations indicating his willingness to destroy the city rather than see it in enemy hands. Yet they fail to elucidate any of the contradictions surrounding many aspects of the Moscow fire. Thus there is no written evidence confirming direct orders to prepare or distribute fuses or any other incendiary materials, or instructing saboteurs to destroy the city. Rostopchin himself had made numerous conflicting statements that both support and exclude his involvement in the burning of Moscow. Interestingly, many historians claim that Rostopchin had embraced the infamy that the destruction of Moscow bestowed on him initially, ignoring both his letters written between 1812 and 1815 that reflect his frustration with the public perception and his memoirs, which were produced with the sole purpose of rejecting responsibility for the fire. His later denials are usually branded as an attempt to evade notoriety. Yet, in doing so these critics conveniently ignore the possibility that his earlier acceptance of responsibility for the fire may have been driven by his desire for fame and/or social advancement. One could argue that Rostopchin had initially claimed the credit in the belief that the burning of Moscow would be regarded as an heroic action, and subsequently disowned complicity when he found that posterity generally considered it shameful.

  Rostopchin’s letters are often cited as evidence for claims that the governor had a clear plan to destroy Moscow. But as the German historian Hans Schmidt correctly observed, the governor’s letters ‘amounted to nothing more than a warning to military leaders not to abandon Moscow, otherwise they would have had to bear responsibility for the destruction of the holy city in front of the tsar’.6 An intelligent, silver-tongued and well mannered man, Rostopchin was also a man of passionate character who often allowed his emotions free rein. As early as late August, just days after the fall of Smolensk, he was already warning of the potential destruction of Moscow. He clearly exaggerated the public sentiment when he wrote to Prince Bagration that ‘the local residents, out of their loyalty to the Tsar and the love of the Motherland, have all decided to perish by the walls of Moscow and, if the Lord turns away from them, to turn the city into ashes so that instead of bountiful spoils Napoleon finds only smoke and ashes’. A day later Rostopchin repeated the same warning (almost verbatim) in a letter to Balashev: ‘The local populace’s attitude is to follow the rule “Do not leave it to the enemy!” So if Providence decides, to the eternal shame of Russia, to let the enemy enter Moscow, I am almost certain that the people themselves will set the city on fire and deprive Napoleon of his rich prize and means of rewarding his thugs through pillage.’ On 2 September another of Rostopchin’s missives claimed that he was ready to lead 100,000 armed local residents to support the Russian army. At the end of t
he letter the governor did note, however, that in case of a setback, he could ensure ‘that the villains find only ashes in Moscow’. On 8 September, just as the news of the battle of Borodino was trickling in, Rostopchin was busy writing another letter to Balashev, assuring him that ‘if, due to unfortunate circumstance, it would not be possible to save the capital, I will set it on fire’.7 Bagration seems to have become the most ardent supporter of Rostopchin’s pronouncements. After reading the governor’s letter, he replied, ‘I must admit, as I read your letter, I cried at seeing the nobility of your spirit and honour. Indeed, we must act this way: it is better to burn than to surrender to the enemy.’8 Bagration also discussed Rostopchin’s claims with other officers; thus he confided to a small circle of senior officers in Vyazma that he did not think that ‘the French would ever reach Moscow, but if they do, they will find nothing but ruins and ashes’.9 Some of these officers later repeated this same claim, with Colonel Zakrevskii telling a fellow officer on the eve of Borodino that ‘Even if we do not win the battle, another Pozharskii10 will help us.’11

  The governor had carefully chosen his addressees – Bagration and Balashev – knowing full well that they would either agree with his sentiments or share and discuss the content of his letters with the army. He certainly wanted to convey to these leaders that the fall of Moscow was unthinkable and that both the army and the Muscovites should be ready to make their best effort to prevail over the enemy. None of his letters to Barclay de Tolly, Kutuzov or other senior army and government officials mentions anything about the deliberate destruction of the empire’s greatest city. Partially this was due to the fact that the governor did not know them well enough to confide such audacious claims. He disliked Barclay de Tolly and was apprehensive of Kutuzov, whose intentions he had already begun to suspect by early September. Rostopchin’s letters do betray the governor’s ‘long-thought-out intention’ to bring devastation upon the city rather than see it in enemy hands. Andrei Tartakovskii believes that ‘it is not important whether there were indeed any “fiery” popular sentiments in Moscow in the summer of 1812 or whether Rostopchin simply invented them. More important is the very fact that he was greatly preoccupied by the idea of the possibility of burning Moscow and had clearly formulated it …’ Tartakovskii argues that Rostopchin’s silence on this matter in his correspondence with Emperor Alexander further underscores his cunning calculation. ‘If Alexander I expressed his disapproval, Rostopchin’s hands would have been tied and the very possibility of attempting such an enterprise would have been impossible.’ 12

  It is difficult to agree with Tartakovskii’s claim that Rostopchin was planning Moscow’s destruction by late August, and ‘was careful enough to present it not as his own enterprise but rather as a manifestation of spontaneous resoluteness among the local populace’, or that by keeping silent on this matter in his correspondence with Emperor Alexander and other senior military and political figures, Rostopchin was able to make progress on his plan while nurturing the claim of popular reaction as a possible ‘alibi’ in case of ‘negative reaction from the army command or the governing elites’. Rostopchin’s excessive rhetoric, however, should not be misconstrued as actual preparations to destroy the city. As one historian commented, ‘there was a big difference between what he desired and what he could do’.13

  It is quite clear that Rostopchin could have taken no measures to set fire to the town before 14 September. Kutuzov assured him throughout late August and early September that he would not allow Moscow to fall. After Borodino, the old field marshal became aware of the governor’s comments about burning the city and found them contrary to his own intention to turn Moscow into a ‘sponge’ that would absorb the ‘stormy torrent’. This is perhaps why he effectively ignored the governor’s inquiries and kept his plans secret until the very last minute. Somewhat dubiously, Rostopchin believed Kutuzov’s reassurances and urged people to stay in the city, proudly declaring that ‘I will stake my life on it that the enemy will not enter Moscow.’14 Even while sending his letters threatening to set fire to Moscow, the governor continued publishing broadsheets ridiculing those who fled the city and appealing to the patriotism of those who remained. These publications surely cast doubt on the claims that Rostopchin had a long-conceived plan to destroy Moscow, unless he intended to burn the city down with the residents still inside it. Nor could Rostopchin foresee the decision of the Council of War at Fili – if he ignited the city and the council decided in favour of fighting, the Russian army might have fought the battle with the city already on fire and the reward of their victory would have been its ashes; worse, in the case of defeat, a burning city behind the lines could only have produced catastrophic results. No man in his right mind would have run such a risk and Rostopchin, perculiar as he was, was no madman. In fact, he clearly expected the Russian army to fight on the outskirts of Moscow and on 13 September he mobilized tens of thousands of Muscovites on the Three Hills to support the army. Had Rostopchin indeed had any fixed plan for the city’s destruction, it seems odd that he made no actual preparations for it in the weeks preceding the fall of Moscow. He must surely have had to make an attempt to mine the vast ammunition and supply magazines that dotted the city, or to sabotage major buildings that might become useful to the enemy? Yet we lack any direct evidence that such preparations were carried out. Undertaking such a vast enterprise would certainly have produced a considerable paper trail, if not in official communications, at least in the private correspondence of the persons involved. Yet aside from Rostopchin’s fervent missives, there are no other letters, instructions or reports mentioning the planning or preparations for the destruction of Moscow, either before or after 14 September. If it was indeed a carefully planned event, one would expect at the very least to find a ‘mission accomplished’ letter written by one of the municipal or police officials, or even Rostopchin himself, but none was written either after the Grande Armée’s expulsion from Russia or after Napoleon’s downfall. Prince A. Shakovskoi was among the first to greet Rostopchin upon his return to Moscow, and they spoke at length about the events that had befallen the city. Yet throughout the conversation Rostopchin made no remarks indicative of deliberate preparations or intentions to burn the city, though he was clearly content with what had happened.15 Finally, the lack of deliberate planning and preparations for burning the city can be seen in the fact that the Allied troops actually contained many early fires – the Imperial Guardsmen were, for example, able to extinguish fires in the Kitai-gorod by the morning of 15 September, and the French theatre director Armand Domergues observed that ‘through swift and energetic measures [the French] were able to completely quench the fires near the Kuznetskii bridge’.16 The great conflagration did not start until the evening of 15 September, when the Allied troops were already inside the city, many of them industriously pillaging homes.

  This is not to say that Rostopchin bore no responsibility for the fire. There is no denying the fact that he thought about the possible destruction of Moscow. Rostopchin, a man of fiercely nationalist temperament, believed that the fall of Moscow, the heart of the Russian Empire, the symbol of Russian imperial might, could have unforeseen political, social and cultural ramifications for the entire realm.17 He believed that the French presence would facilitate the spread of free-thinking and radical ideas into Russia and undermine the very foundations of Russian society. ‘With [Moscow’s] fall, the fetter that binds together popular opinion and strengthens the throne of our Sovereign, would be broken … What obedience and commitment can we expect in the provinces when the villain [Napoleon] begins publishing his manifestoes from Moscow? What dangers would this pose to the emperor himself?’18 Therefore Rostopchin refused to accept the possibility that the enemy would take ‘his’ city and was clearly willing to see it destroyed but not conquered, as he had mentioned in some of his letters and conversations. On the eve of his departure from Moscow he told his wife, ‘If we do not burn the city, we will at least ransack it. Napoleon would d
o it later anyway, and this is a triumph that I am not willing to grant him.’19 Writing to Emperor Alexander in late October, he admitted that ‘if Kutuzov had told me about his decision [to abandon Moscow] two days earlier, I would have evacuated all the inhabitants and burned it myself’.20 This (and other similar) pronouncements, however, must be treated cautiously since Rostopchin made them after the event when it became clear how decisive the Moscow Fire proved in defeating the enemy invasion and Rostopchin could argue that burning the city denied the enemy a political and military victory and rallied the people to the national cause.21