The Burning of Moscow

by Alexander Mikaberidze

  We found ourselves amongst a great number of carts and wagons, driven by men of every nationality, three or four in a line, and stretching for the length of a league. We heard all round us French, German, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese and other languages also, for there were Muscovite peasants among them, and a great number of Jews. This crowd of people, with their varied costumes and languages, the canteen masters with their wives and crying children, hurried forward in the most unheard-of noise, tumult and disorder. Some had got their carts all smashed, and in consequence yelled and swore enough to drive one mad.102

  ‘It was ridiculous to see what was being taken,’ recalled one participant. ‘Couches, armchairs, mirrors, etc. In a word, everything was being hauled along … This slowed the army’s march and during that first day we only made four hours of progress.’103 The army, burdened with its vast train and stragglers, struggled along roads cluttered with carriages, people and animals, with gridlock setting in whenever streams and gorges were encountered. Many carriages struggled to advance over the sandy terrain, frequently either getting stuck, losing a wheel or breaking an axle. And to make matters worse, heavy rains on 22 October turned the roads into rivers of mud. More and more vehicles were abandoned by the side of the road while the army’s line of march grew longer and longer as stragglers failed to keep up.

  A detailed study of the Grande Armée’s retreat through the snowy expanse of Russia is beyond the remit of this book, but suffice it to say that Napoleon’s attempt to break through to Kaluga and the still intact southern provinces was thwarted by the Russian army at Maloyaroslavets on 23–24 October. As a result, the Grande Armée was compelled to return to the old route to Smolensk, pursued by the Russian army that now had a unique chance of trapping it on the Berezina river. As Kutuzov pursued Napoleon from the east, Wittgenstein’s 1st Corps converged from the northeast and Chichagov’s Army of the Danube from the southwest. However, due to Russian indecision and mismanagement, as well as the skill and heroism of the Allied troops, Napoleon managed to extricate most of his army from the trap and get them across the Berezina. Nevertheless, by December the Grande Armée, suffering vast casualties from the weather, exhaustion and constant attacks, had in effect ceased to exist as an organized military force. On 5 December Napoleon put Murat in charge of the army and left for Paris. By the end of the month the last remnants of the Grande Armée crossed the Niemen river. The Russian campaign was over.

  The Second Fire of Moscow

  The day the enemy departed from Moscow was ‘one of the most horrible’ for the Muscovites, recalled one eyewitness. ‘We took every possible precaution and no one even thought of sleep that night.’ 104

  The term ‘Moscow fire’ is usually associated with the initial Allied occupation of the city on 14–18 September. But there was also another major conflagration in the city, this time deliberately caused by the retreating Grande Armée. These fires broke out for two main reasons. On the one hand, the Allies’ departure from Moscow was not well coordinated or organized. Napoleon made his decision hurriedly and this accelerated departure compounded the work of quartermasters, who for weeks had been gathering supplies in accordance with imperial directives, only to be told to abandon them. Many units chose to destroy whatever victuals and possessions they could not take. Montesquiou-Fezensac, whose regiment lacked many basic provisions, was infuriated at the sight of another regiment setting fire to a store of flour and fodder because it had no means to transport them. By the evening of 18 October some monasteries in the suburbs were already burning.105 The conflagration further intensified as the Allied troops began destroying the remaining ammunition and supplies in the city. Christian Christiani recalled that the departing enemy troops set fire to a large warehouse with spirits and then began burning other buildings as well.106

  But there was also a more deliberate effort under way to destroy what was left of Moscow. On the 19th, before leaving Moscow, the emperor wrote to Maret that ‘it has been decided to blow up the Kremlin’. Just one day after leaving Moscow Napoleon sent a remarkable set of instructions to his chief of staff. ‘On the 22nd or 23rd,’ he wrote, ‘Marshal Mortier will arrange for setting fire to the warehouses containing spirits, the barracks, and to the public establishments, with the exception of the Foundlings Hospital. He must set fire to the palace of the Kremlin. He must take care to have the muskets broken in pieces, and powder placed under the towers of the Kremlin … Having accomplished these things, and when fire has been set to the Kremlin in several places, Marshal Mortier must leave it and take the road to Mojaisk… .’ At the end of the letter Napoleon again stressed that Mortier ‘must take care to remain in Moscow until he has personally seen the Kremlin blow up’.107

  Mortier remained in Moscow for the next four days, concentrating his troops in the Kremlin for protection against the encroaching Cossacks and the revitalizing animosity of the people. To mine the Kremlin his troops impressed many Muscovites to dig trenches and mine towers. ‘The French took me there,’ recalled a Russian eyewitness, ‘and there were many other Russians forced to work there. The French made us dig under the walls of the Kremlin, under the cathedral and the palace, and they dug trenches themselves as well. We tried to resist – if everything was destined to perish, we would at least have no role in it. But, alas, it was not up to us to decide and, no matter how bitter it was, we had to dig. Those accursed [French] stood nearby and mercilessly beat with the butts of their muskets anyone whom they saw not working properly.’

  Ordered to retreat in the evening of 22 October, Mortier complied with the imperial wish to see the Kremlin destroyed. Shortly after midnight on 23 October he gave the order to light the fuses.108 ‘Around half past one we saw fire in the Kremlin and … part of the Kremlin blew up with a terrifying roar,’ recalled an eyewitness. ‘Four more explosions took place over the next hour.’109 The powerful blasts shook the ground, causing frightened Muscovites to flee in all directions. Among them was Apollon Sysoev’s family: ‘beside themselves with fear’, they stood in panic in the middle of the yard when another blast completely terrified them. ‘We thought this was indeed the last moment of our lives and began to bid farewell to each other.’110 Half-naked, injured by fragments of glass, stone and metal, many other Muscovites fled in terror into streets still shrouded in darkness as cold autumn rain drizzled down on them. ‘Everyone one could hear screams, shrieks, groans … Many called for help but there was no one to assist them. The Kremlin was ominously illuminated by flames. One explosion followed another and the earth itself was trembling. It looked like Judgement Day had come at last.’111

  These explosions were powerful enough to inflict serious damage on the Kremlin complex and neighbouring buildings. They destroyed part of the arsenal, both belfries of the Ivan the Great Bell Tower, and the Nikolskaya, Borovitskaya, 1st Bezymyannaya and Petrovskaya Towers, while a stretch of the Kremlin wall completely collapsed; the corner Arsenalnaya Tower suffered extensive damage but remained standing. Fortunately for the Russians, the drizzling rain had dampened some of the fuses, while the actions of some quick-thinking Muscovites and the arrival of Russian troops prevented the majority of the planned explosions.112 Thus the Spasskaya and Troitskaya Towers escaped unscathed, while the Kremlin Palace, the Facet Palace, the Senate and the Commandant’s Quarters suffered limited damage.113 It is indeed incredible that Napoleon, who just one month before had condemned the Russians for being ‘vandals’ and uncivilized ‘Scythians’, had now turned into one himself. Georges Chambray was correct when he observed that this act was ‘not justified by any military consideration, and was nothing but an act of senseless revenge on the part of Napoleon, who was furious that he could not subdue Alexander to his will. Such an act could benefit only his enemies, fanning their hatred and further embittering the Russian people against the French, while prompting Alexander to conduct a war of extermination against the French army.’114

  With the departure of the Grande Armée, Moscow was plunged into anarchy as o
nce again the city’s riff-raff sought enrichment. ‘Instead of being excited by the departure of the enemy,’ recalled one Muscovite, ‘we were terrified by the explosions in the Kremlin and expected the worst.’ At dawn numerous Muscovite poor and peasants came out into the streets to plunder and seek vengeance against the remaining enemy troops. ‘We heard the shouts of peasants, armed with weapons that they had plundered in Moscow or captured from the French. These brigands immediately rushed to the [municipal] treasury building and plundered the remaining copper coins left there. They were joined by the city’s rabble. But a different scene caused even greater indignation. At Petrovka a priest, with a sword in his hand, called upon the mob to loot the homes of foreigners.’115 There are many eyewitness accounts describing the Russian rabble despoiling the city before Russian troops restored order. The foreigners, who had already endured the hardships of the past month, now became the targets of another wave of violence.116 Major Gelman, who was among the first to reach the city, was astonished by the ‘most terrible sight’ of ‘thousands of pillagers roaming the streets’.117 Fedor Toll admitted that ‘Moscow was devastated not just by the French but also by peasants from nearby villages, servants and other rabble; getting drunk, they all plundered the houses that survived the fires. All around Moscow villages are filled with stolen items and furniture.’118 A. Shakhovskii described how the Moscow peasants, who ‘are among the shrewdest and most perceptive but also the most depraved and ravenous peasants in all of Russia’, sought to exploit the moment to enrich themselves and ‘once they ascertained that the enemy had departed, they rushed on carts to the city to seize what had been left behind’.119 The pillaging only further intensified with the appearance of the Cossacks, who were the first to enter the city and used the opportunity to pillage it. They made no distinction between fellow Russians or foreigners, robbing both mercilessly; at the Foundlings Home, which had been converted into a hospital, these marauders robbed both the French wounded and the Russian officials living in the building.120 At other hospitals the Allied and Russian wounded and service personnel joined the efforts to protect their institutions from marauders.121

  The first regular Russian troops, from Ferdinand Wintzingerode’s detachment,122 entered the city at noon on 23 October. ‘This ancient capital was still smouldering,’ recalled Alexander Benckendorf, who led these men. ‘We could barely find our way through the bodies of men and beasts, the debris and the ashes that obstructed all the streets. The churches, pillaged and blackened by smoke, served as gloomy markers for finding one’s bearings amidst the immense devastation.’123 Benckendorf first led his troops to the Kremlin, where ‘an enormous crowd was trying to get inside’. The appearance of the Guard Cossack Regiment forced the mob back and the troops formed a perimeter around the Kremlin. Entering the great Uspenskii Cathedral, officers were ‘seized with horror at seeing this revered church, which even the flames had spared, desecrated by the unrestrained soldiery … The relics of the saints were defaced, their tombs filled up with filth, the ornaments of the tombs were pulled off, the images which decorated the cathedral were defiled, torn up … the altar was thrown down, casks of wine had flooded these sacred floors and the bodies of men and horses tainted these vaults.’ Benckendorf and his officers agreed that, because of the state it was in, the cathedral must be hidden from the eyes of the people. So the cathedral doors were sealed and a large patrol deployed to guard the place.

  Noticing the vast building of the Foundlings Home, Benckendorf hastened to see the fate of its orphans, only to discover that several hundred children and a quantity of women and Russian wounded had shared their meagre residences with hundreds of Allied sick and wounded who had been abandoned by the Grande Armée.124 ‘All asked for bread, but the devastation in and around Moscow did not allow me to provide immediately for a need so pressing. The hallways and the courtyard of this enormous building were filled with dead, the victims of destitution, sickness and terror.’125

  Despite securing the Kremlin, the Russian detachment was not large enough to safeguard the rest of the city and mobs of peasants and urban riff-raff continued their rampaging for the next few days. ‘Lost in the vastness of Moscow, my detachment could barely contain the rabble armed with weapons it had seized from the enemy,’ Benckendorf later recalled. In the first two days his men arrested more than 200 people who had been robbing, looting and igniting fires throughout the city. Benckendorf responded with harsh measures, shooting criminals if they resisted and holding the general public responsible for any damage done to their property. ‘He ordered the inhabitants of houses to protect them day and night, and warned them that if their houses caught fire or were robbed, they would be held accountable as criminals.’126 Such measures seem to have had some effect in restoring a semblance of order in the city and the process only accelerated with the arrival of further reinforcements, including the Moscow Police, led by Ivashkin, on 28 October.127

  Rostopchin was still in Vladimir when he received the good news of the liberation of Moscow. He returned to the city on 5 November and was stunned by the ‘horrifying sight’ it presented. ‘I fear, Your Majesty,’ he wrote gloomily to Emperor Alexander, ‘that Moscow will never rise up again. Nobles may not return because they no longer have their social order, while merchants may not find sufficient profit here. Besides, they would be concerned that Bonaparte might return the following year, especially if he is allowed to winter in Vilna.’128 Settling in his governor’s palace, which had survived intact despite Napoleon’s orders to blow it up, Rostopchin began feverishly working on reviving the city. It was an enormous task: the brigandage had to be ended, order fully restored and criminals as well as those who had collaborated with the enemy detained and punished. The city was in ruins and littered with numerous corpses that had to be disposed of as soon as possible to prevent the spread of pestilence. Thousands of Muscovites were homeless and required sustenance, as did the numerous Russian and Allied wounded and sick, who cluttered up the few surviving hospitals. The winter of 1813 proved to be rather cold for people huddled amidst the ruins of the burned city. Broken street lights and long winter nights kept many in the literal darkness and Dmitri Zavalishin recalled that in much of Moscow ‘there was no glimmer from even the smallest flame’. Life in the ruined city was quite dangerous, recalled Anna Khomutova: ‘we did not hear the rumble of carriages or for that matter, any noise at all. It was the silence of a burial vault. In the evenings, all of a sudden, a pistol shot would ring out, but no one knew if it was an accident or a crime.’129

  Over the next months, as Russia continued to fight Napoleon on the battlefields of Germany and France, the Muscovites slowly cleared the ruins, repaired and replastered their surviving buildings, reopened markets and rebuilt shops and taverns. The Kremlin and its environs were carefully inspected and cleared of any remaining mines.130 The wounded were moved from their shelters to a handful of military hospitals and provided with care and sustenance.131 Soon there was a general return of Muscovite refugees, who flooded the governor’s office with countless claims for lost property.132

  ‘There is no end to the complaints on stolen items,’ the governor wrote in mid-November. ‘Those who are in possession of these items claim right of possession because they argue that the city was under the control of the French, who had the authority to give whatever they wanted to whoever they liked.’133 Already overwhelmed by numerous urgent problems, Rostopchin now faced growing criticism of his leadership. Instead of hailing him as a hero, as Rostopchin had expected, Muscovite landowners and proprietors held him responsible for the destruction of their property. In 1815, while travelling in Germany, Rostopchin lamented the fact that ‘in German lands, they show me all the marks of esteem and consideration’, while the Muscovite society poured scorn on him. ‘Back home everyone talks about their burned houses and property but no one thinks beyond that.’134 The most pressing issue was clearing the city of the thousands of decomposing carcasses that might cause outbreaks of disease. Th
us, Ivan Tutolmin described how at the Foundlings Home between twenty and fifty men died every day and had to be buried in shallow graves next to the building. He estimated that some 1,500 men were buried around the Foundlings Home, but other witnesses claimed the figure was as high as 2,500.135 Thousands of putrid horse carcasses lay throughout the city.136 Over the next five months the Muscovites, supported by three battalions of the Moscow garrison and the militiamen of the Vladimir and Tver opolchenyes,137 scoured every building, street and garden looking for corpses. ‘We burn 200 to 300 human bodies and 100 horse carcasses every day,’ reported Rostopchin in December.138 By April city officials could report that 11,955 human bodies and 12,360 animal carcasses had been removed and burned.139 An eyewitness recalled how ‘rotting horse and human corpses lay everywhere. The police were trying to get rid of them long after the enemy was gone. These corpses were piled in enormous heaps and burnt on the banks of the [Moscow] river or in the fields beyond the city barriers. I once saw a pile of human corpses near the Lefortovo barrier and decided to approach it to get a better view. The sight terrified me so much that I could not eat meat for almost a month.’140

  At the same time Rostopchin faced another urgent issue. Thousands of commoners had acquired weapons as the result of the events in Moscow and it was paramount to have them disarmed. This proved to be a long and arduous process that lasted for over two years.141 All Muscovites who remained in the city during the occupation were placed on special rosters and supervised by the police. Those who collaborated with the enemy began to be arrested almost immediately after the city was liberated and dozens of them were detained by 30 October.142 These individuals were then investigated by a special commission of inquiry that was established on 21 November. This commission, whose task was to ‘look into the affairs of employees and persons of all classes having held employment under the enemy’, investigated numerous suspected cases for the next three months. It ultimately charged 103 individuals (six of them members of the Smolensk municipality) with collaborating with the enemy and, dividing them into five categories depending on the severity of the charges, transferred their cases to the imperial Senate for final judgment. The Senate finished its work by the summer of 1814. Foreigners accused of collaborating with the enemy were expelled from the realm. Naturalized foreigners and Russian subjects received punishments of varying severity, ranging from whipping and denial of state employment to loss of property and hard labour in Siberia. However, in nearly all cases these sentences were not carried out: on 11 September 1814 Alexander pardoned all except two of the condemned143 to celebrate the re-establishment of peace in Europe.