Apart from some superficial appearances and a few inflammatory incidents, there was, however, little truth in French assertions that Alexander was deliberately courting war. If the opinions of the able and largely unbiased Armand de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, Napoleon’s Master of the Horse and French ambassador to St. Petersburg from November 1807 to May 1811, are to be credited, nothing was further from the Tsar’s wishes. His desire was for peaceful and independent coexistence and negotiated settlement of outstanding issues. Nevertheless, if it came to a test of strength, Alexander indicated that he was not entirely unprepared. In a conversation with Caulaincourt shortly before his recall to Paris, the Tsar said: “If the Emperor Napoleon decides to make war, it is possible, even probable, that we shall be defeated, assuming that we fight. But that will not mean that he can dictate a peace. The Spaniards have frequently been defeated; and they are not beaten, nor have they surrendered. Moreover, they are not so far away from Paris as we are, and have neither our climate nor our resources to help them. We shall take no risks. We have plenty of space; and our standing army is well organized…. Your Frenchman is brave, but long sufferings and a hard climate wear down his resistance. Our climate, our winter, will fight on our side.”3 This statement proved amazingly prophetic.
For his part, Napoleon professed to be certain that Alexander intended to make war on France. Not even the repeated denials of his former ambassador Caulaincourt or his successor Lauriston would make him change his mind. “He spoke of the ukase prohibiting foreign imports,” recalled Caulaincourt of his first interview with the Emperor after returning to Paris, “and of the admission of neutral and American shipping into Russian ports, which, he said, was an infringement of the Continental System. He went on to say that the Tsar was treacherous, that he was arming to make war on France…. The Emperor repeated all the fantastic stories which, to please him, were being fabricated in Danzig, in the Duchy of Warsaw, and even in the North of Germany, stories, the accuracy of which had been disproved time and again….”4
Although spasmodic negotiations and attempts to find an amicable solution continued up to the very outbreak of war the following year, Napoleon was convinced from at least August 1811 that an eventual test of strength was inevitable. New dreams of eastern conquest, that perennial theme, reinforced Napoleon’s obduracy, but above all he was determined that Russia should be brought back into line in the economic struggle against Great Britain, come what might. The Emperor typically discounted warnings of the size of the problem. “Bah! a battle will dispose of the fine resolutions of your friend Alexander and his fortifications of sand. He is false and feeble,”5 Napoleon asserted, blithely assuming that his genius would enable the Empire to maintain wars on two widely separated fronts at one and the same time.
Napoleon’s position was still not completely secure, even after the birth of the King of Rome on March 20, 1811. Several of his ablest subordinates were no longer at his side. Talleyrand could never be trusted with his master’s full confidence after the incidents of 1807; Fouché had to be removed from the key Ministry of Police in 1810 for intrigue and the unbearable liberty of making policy decisions without consulting the Emperor. As a result there were now few men left in the Imperial entourage with sufficient integrity to speak their true minds—Savary, Duke of Rovigo, and Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza being possible exceptions. For the main part Napoleon was now surrounded by claquers and sycophants. Typical of these sinuous advisers were the new Minister of Foreign Affairs, Champagny, and the new Secretary of State, the sycophantic Daru, and in consequence the Emperor only heard or believed what suited his mood. Delusion and irrationality increasingly clouded his powerful mind. Outside Court circles his unpopularity was growing fast, for discontent was rife throughout his dominions as the economic and military sanctions caused increasing suffering. More and more young men were hiding in the hills and forests to avoid conscription for service in Spain.
In the Peninsula, the war was dragging on from year to year with no sign of ultimate victory, and Napoleon’s most trusted subordinates, even Massena and Soult, were proving incapable of destroying either Wellington’s army or the spirit of Spanish resistance. Napoleon never returned to Spain in person, believing against all the evidence that the task was not worthy of his attention, and convinced, in addition, that the British army was more conveniently placed in the Peninsula than back in England, whence it might descend on some other, less convenient sector of European coastline. To keep Britain apprehensive, the hoary old plan for invasion was brought forward yet again, and renewed attacks against British overseas interests were prepared. Throughout 1810 plans were being made for a new invasion of Egypt and for an onslaught through the Orient toward India, but these were little more than wild dreams. And so, almost by default, the Spanish war was allowed to continue to drain its 50,000 French lives each year, while the master remained in Paris dreaming of world conquest.
There were other signs of decay and impending trouble. The Pope remained uncowed and unrepentant under arrest in the South of France, refusing either to remove his excommunication from the Emperor or to approve the appointment of new bishops to vacant sees. At the same time, the Emperor’s attempts to cow the provincial French clergy into submission were proving only partially successful. Thus his religious policy was on the brink of failure, and his cavalier treatment of the Pope was undoubtedly one factor which steeled Spanish popular resistance.
With so many problems all about him, it is quite possible that Napoleon welcomed the prospect of a new war as a means of distracting attention from internal difficulties. Accordingly, on August 15, 1811, the Emperor deliberately made a bitter verbal attack on the Tsar at a diplomatic reception in the Tuileries. This was a carefully calculated act of provocation, but Alexander, still hoping for a peaceful settlement, declined to accept the challenge when it was reported to him.
Nevertheless, tension continued to increase as both sides carried out diplomatic maneuvers in search of allies, and patience on both sides began to wear thin. On January 27, 1812, Napoleon issued a list of his grievances against Russia to his German allies, stating that “the territory of the Confederation is endangered” and ordering Jerome, King of Westphalia, to have his men mobilized by February 15.6 Demands were also dispatched to the Austrian and Prussian Courts calling for contingents of 40,000 and 20,000 respectively.
On the whole, however, Russia came off best in the hunt for support, and Alexander’s confidence grew steadily. In April 1812, the Russian ambassador, Kurakin, presented Napoleon with a virtual ultimatum. If the French would agree to evacuate Prussia, compensate the Duke of Oldenburg and create a neutral zone between the two power blocks, Alexander might be prepared to attend to Napoleon’s economic grievances. This effrontery (as Napoleon considered it) was soon followed by a series of Russian diplomatic successes; in April, Crown Prince Bernadotte of Sweden, finally deserting his old master, cautiously threw in his lot with Alexander, adopting an attitude of friendly neutrality for the time being (in return for the promise of having Norway added to his possessions). The one-time marshal of the Empire was goaded into this fateful action by the economic collapse threatening his adopted country, the last straw being Napoleon’s cavalier seizure of Swedish Pomerania (March). Continuing the list of Russian diplomatic coups, in May the Peace of Bucharest was concluded between Russia and Turkey, freeing large numbers of the Tsar’s troops for transfer from the Balkans to his Polish frontiers. This was followed (after the opening of hostilities on the Niemen front) by the conclusion of a treaty of alliance with Great Britain in July. Thus Russia was able to clear her hands of all outstanding commitments and proved notably successful in her search for new allies.
Moldavia and Wallachia. See pp. 527, 624
68
WAR PLANS AND PREPARATIONS
Both sides had been carrying out military preparations for some considerable time prior to this last-minute burst of diplomatic activity. In some respects, Alexander can be said to
have been continuously preparing for war since 1810. In that year the experienced soldier Barclay de Tolly was appointed minister of war, and on the Tsar’s order started to carry through a considerable reorganization of the Russian forces. A few strategic roads were improved, new forts built at important points, surveys carried out, and a close watch maintained on Napoleon’s military moves in Poland and North Germany. Even more important were the increases and administrative changes Barclay introduced into the Russian army. The results of the endeavor were that, by 1812, the Tsar disposed of the following infantry formations: 6 regiments of Imperial Guards, 14 of grenadiers, 50 of light infantry and 96 more of the line. With the exception of the Guards regiments, which had 3 service battalions apiece, Tolly ensured that every unit had 2 front-line battalions and a third, weaker depot battalion. These last-named were either grouped together into reserve divisions or allocated to the 36 centers newly set up for the training of drafts. Most of the infantry were also issued with a better type of musket. In the case of the Russian cavalry, reputedly the best-mounted in Europe, the 6 assorted mounted regiments of the Guards were brought up to a strength of 4 first-line and one depot squadron (each holding 159 troopers), and the 8 cuirassier and 36 dragoon regiments of the line cavalry were given similar establishments. In the case of the 11 hussar and 5 uhlan regiments of the light cavalry, the number of service squadrons per regiment was increased to 8, with a further 2 in the training centers. In addition to these regular horsemen, a large force of “irregular” cavalry, the famous Cossacks (really Kazaks or “freebooters”) amounted to a further 15,000 by June 1812, and in due course were increased to twice that number. Besides the 80 cannon attached to the Guards, the Tsarist artillery arm now consisted of 44 heavy batteries (armed with 18-pounder howitzers and 12-pounder cannon), 58 light (9- and 6-pounders) and 22 horse (6-pounder) batteries. These were organised into 27 “foot” and 10 “reserve” brigades. Many cavalry regiments were provided with horse batteries of their own. The artillery’s mobility and efficiency were brought to a high standard, and all in all the Russian gunners formed a redoubtable portion of the Tsar’s forces. In overall numbers, therefore, by 1812 the Russian army (all fronts) probably comprised 409,000 regular soldiers of whom 211,000 were serving in frontline armies, a further 45,000 in the second line, and the remaining 153,000 in distant garrisons and reserve formations.
Another reform of considerable importance was that Barclay, abandoning the ancient and unwieldy “mixed divisions” of earlier wars, reorganized the regiments of the First and Second Armies into an army corps system that closely resembled the French model. Each of these new corps consisted of two infantry divisions, a single division (sometimes only a brigade) of cavalry, two brigades of artillery and one battery of horse artillery.
However, although the Russian army was undoubtedly assuming a new and more modern appearance, the improvements did not extend to every branch of the service. The staff remained untrained and inefficient, submerged in minutiae and red tape. The important administrative departments were generally neglected; the transport and commissariat services were still rudimentary, and the medical branch only crudely organized. Although the sturdy peasants of the Steppes made good soldiers, and the Cossacks could hardly be bettered in individual and collective skill at wearing down their opponents with elusive tactics, the quality of the average Russian regimental officer was still far from good. Except in the Guards and cavalry regiments, the greater number of officers were indolent, illiterate, inefficient and over-addicted to drink and gambling. However, personal bravery was a characteristic commonly found at all levels.
Taken as a whole, the Russian generals commanding corps or higher formations were of good quality, having been carefully selected by the Tsar in person. Initially, the most important soldier was Mikhail Bogdanovitch, Baron Barclay de Tolly, who combined the responsibilities of minister of war with those of commander in chief of First Army. He was by birth a Livonian, but there was some Scottish blood in his ancestry. In 1812, he was fifty-one years old. His promotion to his present position had been slow by the standards of the time, but his distinguished record as an old-style divisional commander in 1807 (Poland) and 1809 (against the Turks) brought him to the notice of the Tsar and resulted in his sudden appointment to the Ministry of War in 1810. Although he was largely responsible for the effective modernization of the Russian army, he was to show decided shortcomings in the handling of large bodies of men in the field, and he evinced little interest or trust in his colleagues and subordinates. Refusing to delegate even the most trivial tasks, he was inevitably overtaxed by the paperwork of his two responsible posts, and suffered a great deal from the blatant insubordination of some of his junior colleagues. Despite the fact that he was superseded by Kutusov in August 1812, he retained the Tsar’s trust throughout the remainder of the Napoleonic wars, and was restored to the highest command in 1815.
General Prince Goleniscbev-Kutusov
The next most important soldier, General Prince Peter Ivanovich Bagration, was of Armenian extraction. Belonging to the royal line, he enjoyed rapid promotion to his present post as commander of Second Army. Although he was a good fighter of wide experience, which included service under Suvorov, he was excessively reckless and impatient by nature, characteristics which frequently brought him into conflict with the methodical Barclay. Nevertheless, he was very popular with his subordinates and the rank and file.
Next in the military hierarchy, destined to command the Third (or “reserve”) Army, came General Count Alexander Petrovich Tormazov, a soldier of reasonable capacity who was also something of a martinet, but with the distressing martial habit of persistently overextending his formations.
Behind the scenes at the opening of the campaign but destined to play a vital role before its end was General Prince Mikhail Hilarionovich Golenischev-Kutusov, a veteran of vast experience accumulated over sixty-seven summers, fifty-two of which had been spent as a soldier. He had been formal commander in chief of the Austro-Russian armies in 1805, and was generally regarded as the “grand old man” of the Russian forces in spite of the near-catastrophic defeat at Austerlitz. Although some commentators believe that his military talents have been overestimated, his experience in both the political and military spheres was probably unparalleled. By 1812, of course, Kutusov was really too old for active campaigning, but before the year was out he was to have earned the rank of field-marshal and the title of Prince of Smolensk for his stalwart endeavors following his appointment as supreme commander on August 20.
On a somewhat subordinate plain to these “giants” come the following three. General Baron Levin Bennigsen, the commander at Eylau and Friedland, a soldier of Hanoverian extraction, currently in disgrace. He was an able but selfish man. In command of the Cossack irregulars was the dashing figure of General Matvi Ivanovich Platov, Atman of the Don Cossacks, a brilliant light cavalry commander, whose troops regarded him with something akin to mystical reverence. Last on the list in terms of both seniority and ability comes General Phull, a Prussian officer who unfortunately enjoyed the particular favor of the Tsar at this time and served him as confidential advisor. A member of the unmourned Prussian staff of 1806, his ability was not particularly notable, but his influence as the Tsar’s military éminence grise gave him undue and undeserved importance, and he played a large part in forming Russian strategy in 1812.
These, then, were the men destined to pit their wits against Napoleon, his marshals and the legions of the French Empire.
On the French side, the preparations for the great undertaking were made with the greatest possible forethought and attention to detail. Napoleon did not wholly underestimate the problem he was facing. He knew he would meet large Russian armies operating over a vast theater, where the roads were at best poor, the food resources practically nonexistent, and the climate prone to extremes of heat and cold, but he probably miscalculated the scale of the difficulties to be faced. By way of preparation, however, every available bo
ok on Eastern Europe was carefully read and digested; every published map pored over and memorized. Histories of Charles XII’s ill-fated campaign in 1709 received particular attention. From the basis of this profound study, Napoleon calculated that he would need almost half a million men in the front line with further large supporting formations to the rear. Hitherto the forces he commanded in the field had rarely risen far above 200,000 at any one time; now, in 1812, he conceived of an army more than three times that size. A new phase of Napoleonic warfare was dawning, and with it came a new formation, the army group. The attendant problems of control and supply were to prove daunting.
The preliminary moves were taken as far back as 1810, when the Emperor ordered the arming and supplying of numbers of key German and Polish fortresses, ostensibly as precautions against the supposed threat of Russian attack against the Grand Duchy. Next year, once Napoleon had made up his mind that war with Russia was inevitable, the tentative preparations for an invasion of England and an onslaught in the Levant were indefinitely postponed, clearing Napoleon’s hands (with the exception of the ever-festering “Spanish ulcer”) for the greater task ahead. Indeed, peace feelers were again put out toward the British Government through the medium of the great international banking houses, but it was to nobody’s real surprise when they were sharply rebuffed. Over the same period three corps of observation were built up along the eastern limits of the French Empire, totaling 200,000 men, and the Emperor made it clear to his minions and allies that in the event of a crisis he would require 50,000 men from Italy, 130,000 from the Confederation and Westphalia, a further 50,000 from the Poles, and contingents of Prussians and Austrians, over and above this already imposing armament. The speed of preparation noticeably increased in the early months of 1812, as Commissary General de Pradt hastened the completion of administrative arrangements at Warsaw, and a French expedition was dispatched to occupy Swedish Pomerania on the Baltic coast in order to protect the left rear of the Grande Armée once operations began.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 92
