On October 5, therefore, an official Imperial delegation was sent off from Moscow to reopen direct negotiations with both Kutusov (for an immediate armistice) and the Tsar (for a permanent settlement). Kutusov received Napoleon’s representatives with every civility and deliberately encouraged the impression that the Russian soldiers wanted peace, but the wily field-marshal refused to permit Lauriston to proceed to St. Petersburg in person. Instead, he detained the envoy at Russian headquarters and sent on his letters to the Tsar by courier, together with another missive in which Kutusov strongly advised the Tsar to avoid negotiation at all costs. Alexander accepted this advice, and consequently the plenipotentiaries eventually returned to Napoleon emptyhanded.
The Emperor would not believe that this was the Tsar’s true answer, and accordingly sent off a second delegation on October 14. Only after the failure of this embassy in its turn did Napoleon begin to realize that he had entirely misjudged the Tsar’s character. Yet he still chose to pretend that Alexander would see reason. It came as a distinct blow to his amour propre when the Tsar formally forbade his generals to receive any further communications from the French headquarters. As Caulaincourt incisively described Napoleon’s dilemma: “He could not admit to himself that Fortune, which had so often smiled upon him, had quite abandoned his cause just when he required miracles of her.”2 Consequently he resorted to self-delusion, stifling his growing doubts in a wave of overoptimism, choosing to ignore the hard facts of his situation. “He prolonged his meals,” noted de Ségur, “which had hitherto been so simple and short. He seemed desirous of stifling thought by repletion. He would pass whole hours half reclined, as if torpid and awaiting, with a novel in his hand, the catastrophe of his terrible history.”3 At times it appeared to his loyal but exasperated staff that his mind was completely shut to reality. Warned that the men would need warm clothing to face the coming winter, he merely ordered that fleece-lined coats, thick boots and special capes should be issued, heedless of the representations of his officers who pointed out that there were no materials available for their manufacture. Advised that the artillery was desperately short of horses, he authorized the purchase of 20,000 locally when there was not in fact a horse to be had for a hundred miles. Unreality appeared to be closing in on his mind and clouding his judgment.
It might be supposed that the disaster that befell the city of Moscow between 15th and 17th of September would at least have convinced him of Russian determination to continue the struggle. Instead he chose to regard it as the work of cranks and released criminals. Militarily, the catastrophe was of little significance. True, the fire did lead to a temporary breakdown in French discipline; while the Emperor retired to the comparative safety of the Petrowskoie Palace outside the city, his men broke bounds and engaged in an orgy of looting which resulted in the wanton destruction of considerable quantities of food and other important material. In other respects, however, the fire was of little military importance. A quarter of the city survived the conflagration, including the Kremlin, and consequently there was plenty of shelter for Napoleon’s remaining 95,000 troops. The greater part of such supplies as Moscow contained (mostly luxury goods) also remained intact in the city’s cellars. The true significance of the incendiaries’ work lay in their motive rather than in what they actually achieved. Their desperate action, which had been ordered by the Civil Governor Count Rostopchin, and not Kutusov, was really symbolic of the atmosphere of vendetta and grim determination that was beginning to pervade all strata of Russian society from the Tsar to the moujiks. This implication, which was appreciated by many of the more observant French officers, remained beyond the Emperor’s willing comprehension. Moreover, from the French point of view, it was paradoxically a tragedy that the work of the incendiaries was incomplete. Had the whole of Moscow been reduced to a heap of ashes (as was Rostopchin’s intention), Napoleon would have been compelled to leave its vicinity. The fact that it remained inhabitable proved fatal to the Grande Armée, for the Emperor was encouraged to linger week after week in an exposed position, hoping that Alexander would come to his senses and seek a settlement; the continued occupation of what remained of Holy Moscow would form an important factor in his negotiating position, or so the Emperor thought. And so day after day of fine autumn weather was allowed to slip away while the Emperor pursued the chimera of a successful peace treaty with his onetime boon companion of Tilsit.
Every day that passed was allowing the advantage of the strategical situation to move more decidedly in the Tsar’s favor. Kutusov appreciated this and did all in his power to protract Napoleon’s stay in Moscow, deliberately playing on his opponent’s desire for peace. The Tsar, meantime, subjected to heavy pressure by his advisers, remained intractably aloof. No idea of coming to terms with Napoleon now entered his thoughts. Not only was time playing into the hands of the Russians by bringing “General Winter” ever closer, but it was also permitting the size of their forces to be rapidly augmented. By October 4, the Russian generals could at last claim numerical superiority on almost every sector of the huge front. South of Moscow, Kutusov’s army numbered at least 110,000 men, while Napoleon commanded only 95,000; even if the VIIIth Corps, situated near Borodino, was added to this number, the Emperor could dispose of few more than 100,000 men. On the extended flanks, the overall situation was even more favorable for the Tsar’s warriors. On the northern sector, General Wittgenstein (40,000) was facing Oudinot and St. Cyr (17,000) near Poltosk. On the extreme right, General Essen’s garrison at Riga (14,000) had recently been supplemented by the arrival of General Steinheil with 10,000 men from the Army of Finland, while Marshal Macdonald was attempting to continue the siege of Riga and at the same time control some 80 miles of the Dvina down to Dünaburg with only 25,000 men, and of these at least half the Prussian contingent were of increasingly dubious loyalty. On the southern flank, the army of Admiral Tshitshagov from the Danube had newly combined with Tormassov’s Third Army to create a joint force of 65,000 men, more than enough to outfight Schwarzenberg’s and Reynier’s 34,000. It was true that the 37,000 men of the French IXth Corps in the vicinity of Smolensk were presently unopposed by any regular Russian force, but the increasing number of raids by Cossacks and peasantry against isolated detachments along Napoleon’s long lines of communication made its presence there vital if even a tenuous link with Poland was to be maintained. Similarly, Marshal Augereau was holding some 26,000 conscripts at far-away Stettin and General Loison had a further 10,000 near Konigsberg, but the worsening relations between France and Prussia made it impracticable for these troops to be moved up to the front. The remainder of the starving survivors of the once 600,000 strong Grande Armée were dead, lying in the inadequate hospitals, straggling hopelessly over the countryside, or strung out in numerous small detachments along the overextended communications. In other words, Napoleon had shot his bolt, and was left with a huge arrow-shaped salient to defend, extending over 360 miles wide at its broadest part and running for no less than 550 miles into the seemingly fathomless depths of Russia to its apex at Moscow. The Russian armies on his flanks were in excellent positions for driving great salients into French-held territory, and might, in due course, isolate Napoleon’s main body from its bases. Small wonder, therefore, that the Tsar rebuffed Napoleon’s peace feelers and is reputed to have remarked, “This is the moment when my campaign begins.”
Certain events should have demonstrated to Napoleon the peril and exposure of his position. He had hardly been settled in the Kremlin for a week when news arrived that a force of Russian cavalry and Cossacks had cut the main westbound road near Mojaisk on September 24. Now Napoleon was becoming increasingly anxious about the trend of events in the distant heart to his Empire, for “Paris and France were the object of all his thoughts, and couriers were constantly setting off with decrees dated from Moscow.”4 He was consequently considerably annoyed when he learned of this interruption of his lifeline, and immediately ordered off a force of Chasseurs and Dragoons of the Guard t
o send the Russians about their business. But worse tidings were to follow; not only did these élite cavalrymen fail to execute their mission, but every man of them was captured by the Russians in a well-laid ambush.
This news caused an unparalleled sensation in the ranks of the Moscow army; its effect on morale was out of all proportion to its true military importance. A further force under General St. Sulpice soon reopened the communications, but the memory of the original breakdown and the ensuing disaster to the Guard cavalry lingered in the minds of both officers and men and increased their growing impression of perilous isolation far from home; even the Emperor, with his head in the clouds, was unable to ignore either the incidents or their decidedly unpleasant implications. On October 3, the troops in the vicinity of Moscow were at last ordered to concentrate in preparation for a possible move, but 16 more days were to pass before this long-overdue decision was implemented after the failure of the attempts at negotiation already recounted.
A further reason why Napoleon lingered so long at Moscow was the difficulty he experienced in making up his mind concerning the best course of action. He had never envisaged the need for any moves beyond Moscow, so convinced had he been that the Tsar would admit defeat before the French came even within sight of the golden domes of the Kremlin. However, with the Tsar rejecting all overtures and the position of the French army becoming daily more precarious, strategically and logistically, it was time for a full reconsideration of the future strategy.
Six possibilities were open to Napoleon. First, he might choose to hold his ground and winter in the vicinity of Moscow, converting it into a vast encampment. Staff experts reported that this was possible logistically; the salvaged resources of the Russian capital might just suffice to feed the men for six more months. However, there were grave disadvantages inherent in this scheme. For one thing, Moscow was too far from Paris for convenience or safety; for another it was barely militarily defensible. To halt at all would be an admission of defeat, and the Russians would indubitably use the winter months to grow stronger and might well launch a large-scale counteroffensive under climatic conditions which would work solely to their advantage; memories of the Eylau campaign died hard—and Napoleon had little wish for a repetition of the horrors and difficulties of 1806-07 if they could possibly be avoided. Moreover, the formations holding the extended flanks would by no means be so well provided for as their comrades in the vicinity of Moscow. Real starvation and bitter cold could thus well destroy the greater part of the French army before spring brought some relief. Secondly, Napoleon might retire from Moscow with the greater part of his men and head for the fertile and unravaged areas around Kiev. The major objections to this course were as follows. Such a southward move would remove his army from the Russian seats of power, and this would in all probability make the Tsar more intractable than ever; secondly, his columns would have to fight their way past Kutusov’s large army in the Kaluga area, and this could involve further heavy losses in men and equipment. Next, if neither of these courses of action appeared advisable, Napoleon could consider a local withdrawal to Smolensk, sweeping southwest from Moscow through the unspoiled countryside around Yelna. However, once again, a march along this route would probably involve a costly brush with Kutusov. Fourthly, in the hope of still achieving final victory in 1812, the French might drive northward toward the Tsar’s administrative capital of St. Petersburg. Against this possibility had to be weighed the late season of the year, the weariness and reduced numbers of the French forces, and the poor available maps of the intervening terrain. Fifthly, Napoleon might try a general concentration to the northwest around Velikye-Luki, hoping thereby to counteract the growing strategic consumption of his forces by shortening his communications and at the same time continue to pose a threat to St. Petersburg. Such a move, however, would only lead to even greater supply problems, and the Russians might not take the danger seriously in view of the unfavorable season. Lastly, the French could attempt to retrace their steps to Smolensk along their original route through Borodino and Viasma, and thereafter continue the retreat toward Poland if the situation made this advisable. Such a course of action would be tantamount to admitting complete failure in addition to being extremely hazardous, for the army would be traversing countryside already laid waste earlier in the year. Nor was the Emperor cheered by the estimate of Matthieu Dumas, chief commissary of the Grande Armée, that it would take the army at least fifty days to reach the Niemen.
As every course presented great potential difficulties and disadvantages, there is small wonder that Napoleon hesitated to make a firm decision, and preferred to pin his hopes on a last-minute change of heart by the Tsar. Doubtless he drew encouragement from the knowledge that the French army had been in tight spots before and yet survived to win victory. However, Napoleon slowly came to accept the fact that the Tsar would not come to terms, knowing as he did the weaknesses of the French position and the impossibility of a further effective French offensive that year. To advance was to die; to stay put was to rot; the only course open was to retreat, in the hope of saving the greater part of the army. After the failure of his second mission to the Tsar (it returned to Moscow on October 17), the Emperor at last made up his mind. The Grande Armée would retire and make for the well-provisioned depots of Smolensk by the southern route, crushing Kutusov at Kaluga on its way west if this proved necessary. On the 18th, the corps commanders were ordered to be ready to leave Moscow on the 20th. The days of lingering uncertainty were over. Napoleon accepted that Alexander had called his bluff.
Then, as often occurs in war, the unexpected happened. The same day that Napoleon decided to retreat, Kutusov took it into his head to advance and attack the nearest formations of Murat’s somnolescent cavalry reserve. The King of Naples had never anticipated that the “friendly” Russians to his front would break the unofficial armistice, and so he and his lieutenants were taken completely by surprise. General Sebastiani, now commanding the Second Corps of the reserve cavalry, who “spent his days in slippers, reading Italian poetry,”5 according to one critic, bore the brunt of the attack near Vinkovo and received a sharp defeat at the hands of Denisov’s cavalry, losing six guns. Meanwhile, Baggavout’s infantry advanced to attack Murat’s center, separated by some two miles from Sebastiani. Kutusov evidently hoped to encircle the King of Naples’ entire command. “The enemy infantry then set out to seize a defile in the King of Naples’ rear,” Napoleon wrote to his Foreign Minister, Maret. “The King [Murat] however, fell on this infantry at the head of his carabineers and cuirassiers, and scattered them.”6 By the end of the 18th, Murat had successfully fought his way out of danger, falling back to Voronovo, but the day’s events had been a decided scare. With a little more drive and the commitment of his reserves, Kutusov might have pulled off a considerable victory; under the circumstances, however, the Russians made no attempt to follow up their limited success, but contented themselves with concentrating in the vicinity of Tarutino where a fortified camp was being prepared.
News of the day’s fighting galvanized Napoleon into activity. Believing that 10,000 fresh cavalry had recently joined Kutusov from Wallachia, he felt that not a moment was to be lost in getting his army onto the road. He was also determined to avenge Murat’s defeat and to make it clear that the army’s impending retreat was not caused by Kutusov’s minor success. Accordingly, he brought forward the movement order by twenty-four hours, and early on the morning of the 19th Napoleon and his staff passed through the gates of Moscow after a stay of thirty-five days, at the head of 95,000 men, 500 cannon, and, according to Marbot, as many as 40,000 wagons and other conveyances (even wheelbarrows) piled high with loot, supplies, large numbers of wounded and camp followers. “A few Russian girls, voluntary captives, also followed,” recorded de Ségur. “It looked like a caravan, a wandering nation, or rather one of those armies of antiquity returning with slaves and spoil after a great devastation.”7
Napoleon went to considerable pains to conceal the fac
t that he was retreating from both his own men and the enemy. To disguise his full intention from Kutusov, the Emperor sent off negotiators with new offers of an armistice. For the information of his own men, he announced that he was marching to attack Kutusov’s left flank and thus reopen the French offensive. Napoleon knew this information would eventually reach the Russian commander, and he hoped that it might induce him to draw off his men to the east, thereby leaving open the good road to Smolensk through Kaluga. The French main body accordingly set off from Moscow down the old Kaluga road through Desna, then swung west through Troitskoye to reach the new road, heading for Maloyaroslavets. At this place there was an important road junction which would afford Napoleon with the choice of two routes leading toward Smolensk (i.e., via Medyn or Kaluga). To cover these initial moves, Mortier was ordered to remain in Moscow until the 23rd, guarding the rear. On that date he was to blow up the Kremlin and make for Vereya, where he would serve as the link between the westbound main army and Junot’s VIIIth Corps, presently at Mojaisk on the Borodino road. At the same time as the initial movement of the main army, Ney’s IIIrd Corps was to advance to the River Motsha to serve as a screen and thereafter assume the duties of rear guard.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 100
