The Burning of Moscow
Page 36
Napoleon’s conversations with Tutolmin and Yakovlev and his letters to Emperor Alexander reveal that he had profoundly misunderstood both his circumstances and the Russian attitudes towards war. He dismissed the burning of Moscow as the irrational, barbaric act of a lunatic governor but failed to comprehend that Russian society perceived it in a different light. For the Russians, the destruction of Moscow was the work of French ‘monsters’, who could no longer be shown any quarter. The city’s smouldering ruins served as a powerful symbol that united Russian society and turned the war into a popular conflict that sought, in the words of one contemporary, to have Napoleon ‘drowned in the tears he has caused to be shed’.25 Negotiating peace with the French ‘barbarians’ had effectively become impossible. Meanwhile, Napoleon clung to Moscow as his trump card, waiting for his foe to deal. He hinted that he was willing to embark on a long war and spoke of new Polish levies and reinforcements. Yet, the reality was that the army could not remain a fighting force for much longer. Although the army had some supplies, many essentials were lacking and, most importantly, there was only a limited supply of fodder for the horses, whose well-being was crucial to the French war effort. The Russian army, on the other hand, continued mobilizing reinforcements and its flying detachments, together with peasant partisans, had already begun to threaten the Grande Armée’s lines of communication. On 24 September Napoleon informed General Raymond-Gaspard de Bonardi de Saint Sulpice, commanding the Guard dragoons, that he attached ‘great importance’ to ensuring that the routes to Mozhaisk remained open and urged him to dispatch strong patrols to guard against any Russian threat to French communications.26
The situation in the rear was not encouraging. While Polish troops remained steadfast in their support of Napoleon, contingents from other parts of Europe were less inclined to do so. General van Hogendorp, the Governor General of Lithuania, complained that ‘the Bavarian soldiers left the colours in their hundreds and came to Vilna, pretending to be ill, in order to get into the hospitals’.27 The Austrians continued to drag their feet in the southwest, while the Prussians stalled in the north.28 Worst of all, the condition of the troops along the Grande Armée’s lines of communication left much to be desired. As early as August Jean Rapp was appalled to see unmotivated and exhausted troops slowly trudging along the roads.29 A month later Prince Wilhelm of Baden lamented that ‘from the moment of our leaving Vilna, in every village, in every farm, we found isolated soldiers who were abandoning the army under various pretexts’.30 Writing to the emperor in late September, Lieutenant J. de Merville complained that his convoy of over 100 transports found it difficult to keep its military escort. ‘After three days all our escorts disappeared, with men dispersing on both sides of the road. I demanded and received a new escort, which stayed with me for a longer time but soldiers disappeared with each passing day despite the best efforts of their officers.’31 The countryside was awash with thousands of stragglers and deserters, who ransacked nearby villages and alienated the peasantry, and thereby contributed to the intensifying ‘little war’. Napoleon might well have known, as Rapp asserts, ‘to the last man how many men he had stationed between the Rhine and Moscow’, and he might have believed that he was still in a position to dictate to the Russians. But the reality was dramatically different. His forces were slowly disintegrating and with each passing week it was becoming a more difficult task to turn the war in his favour.
And yet Napoleon persevered in Moscow, still believing that the Russian leaders ‘do not know the effect that the fall of the capital will have on them’.32 He expected Alexander to cave in and was willing to make the first move to nudge the Russian sovereign towards peace. ‘Like everyone else, the emperor realized that his repeated messages would, by showing up the difficulty of his position, only confirm the enemy in his hostile dispositions,’ Caulaincourt pondered. ‘Yet he kept sending him new ones! For a man who was so politic, such a good calculator, this reveals an extraordinary blind faith in his own star, and one might almost say in the blindness or the weakness of his adversaries! How, with his eagle’s eye and his superior judgement could he delude himself to such a degree?’33 Maybe he still entertained thoughts of the grand campaign that he had confided to his trusted aide-de-camp a month before the war began. ‘Imagine Moscow taken, Russia overthrown, [and] the tsar reconciled or murdered by a palace plot … and tell me that it is impossible for a large army of Frenchmen and auxiliaries starting from Tiflis to reach the Ganges, where the mere touch of a French sword would be sufficient to bring down the framework of [Britain’s] mercantile grandeur throughout India.’34 Indeed, there were even rumours that he took the insignia of imperial dignity – robe, sceptre and crown – with him on the journey to Russia, in order that after he had dictated peace he might be proclaimed in the Kremlin ‘the emperor of the West, Supreme Head of the European Confederation, Defender of the Christian Religion’. There was just too much at stake for Napoleon to admit defeat, turn round and leave Moscow. He seems to have forgotten his own earlier premonition: ‘How can you believe that the same people who had burned Moscow today would accept peace just a few days later? If those responsible for this decision [to burn Moscow] continue to wield power in Alexander’s cabinet, all expectations that you are flattering yourself with are in vain.’
Like many of his contemporaries, Napoleon also misread Alexander’s character. The British historian Dominic Lieven has justly pointed out that ‘most European statesmen and much of the Russian elite shared some of the doubts on Alexander’s strength of will’.35 Napoleon believed that Alexander would not hesitate to make peace if he had but received a letter offering it. He ‘nourished his hopes [for peace] with the recollections of Tilsit and Erfurt’,36 and hoped that the Francophiles in the Russian court would push Alexander in that direction. Napoleon thus failed both to understand Alexander’s character and to perceive how profoundly his relationship with Alexander, as well as the sentiments of Russian society, had changed since 1807. The Russian emperor was well aware of the widespread displeasure prevailing in Russia over the Franco-Russian peace. ‘The spirit of patriotism burst out forcefully without any particular efforts on the part of the government,’ remarked one contemporary. ‘Hatred of the French and foreigners spread vehemently among the Russians and left deep seeds inside the hearts of contemporaries; many of those, who have survived to the present day, still feel loathing towards foreigners and especially the French … Everyone wanted to avenge Austerlitz, Friedland and other setbacks from previous wars that had humiliated us so much.’37 Prince Sergei Volkonskii remembered how on the eve of the war ‘the peace of Tilsit [and] the meekness of Emperor Alexander to the policies of Napoleon left deep wounds in the heart of every Russian. Vengeance – and vengeance once more – was the unshakeable feeling with which all hearts were burning.’38 Such sentiments only further intensified in the wake of the continued withdrawal by the Russian armies and the loss of Russian provinces. Just days after the fall of Moscow, the Grand Duchess Catherine confronted her august brother:
The taking of Moscow has put the finishing touches to people’s exasperation. Discontent is at its highest and your person is far from being spared. If such news reaches me, you can imagine the rest. You are openly accused of having brought disaster upon your empire, of having caused general ruin and the ruin of private individuals, lastly, of having lost the honour of the country and your own personal honour. I leave it to you to judge the state of affairs in a country whose leader is despised.39
Even if he had wanted to, against this backdrop Alexander could not afford to come to terms with the man who had invaded and despoiled his realm. Public opinion was against it and any sign of weakness on Alexander’s part might have led to tragic consequences. A second Tilsit would have sealed the condemnation of his reign and Alexander knew only too well what happened to unpopular monarchs in Russia: the preceding eighty years had witnessed a number of palace coups and murders of reigning sovereigns, including Alexander’s own father.
Alexander consistently demonstrated his refusal to compromise with Napoleon. During their final audience, he warned Caulaincourt that in case of war he was ready to retreat as far as Kamchatka in Siberia’s frigid borderland before he would give up any provinces or sign any treaties. Napoleon brushed this statement off as mere posturing but Alexander meant every word of it. Now, in late September, the Tsar remained resolute in his determination to resist the invader. ‘Once war begins,’ he had said to Caulaincourt, ‘one of us – either he, Napoleon, or I, Alexander – must lose his crown.’ In mid-September the Grand Duchess urged Alexander to remain steadfast in his struggle: ‘Do not abandon your resolution: no peace and you still have the hope of recovering your honour … My dear friend, no peace, even if you were at Kazan, no peace!’ Responding to his sister’s appeals, he assured her that ‘my resolve to struggle is more unshakeable than ever. I should rather cease to be what I am than compromise with the monster who is the curse of the world.’40 On 20 September Colonel Michaud, one of his aides-decamp, visited him in the Winter Palace at St Petersburg to deliver a verbal report of the abandonment of Moscow and the fire. Alexander was visibly shaken but once again he reassured Michaud that under no conditions would he make peace with Napoleon. He instructed the colonel to transmit a special statement to the army:
Tell all my good subjects, wherever you go, that when I have not one soldier left, placing myself at the head of my dear nobles, of my good peasants, I shall use up the last resources of my empire. But if ever it is written in the decrees of Divine Providence that my dynasty is to cease to reign on the throne of my ancestors, after having exhausted all the means at my disposal, I shall let my beard grow down to here and go and eat potatoes with the least of my peasants in the furthest confines of Siberia, rather than sign away my beloved country, whose sacrifices I fully appreciate. Colonel Michaud, do not forget what I say to you here: Napoleon or I, he or I; now we can no longer reign together. I have learned to know him, he will not deceive me again.41
This speech, even if Michaud embellished it as he recounted it years later, reveals that Alexander was profoundly affected by the events in Moscow. He later confided to Baroness von Krüdener that ‘the burning of Moscow has illuminated my soul!’ The great fire did not weaken his resolve; on the contrary, it made him more determined to pursue the war to the end. Admittedly, there were few, if any, viable alternatives. He was well aware of the disgruntlement in Russian society over the Treaty of Tilsit, and knew that another compromise with Napoleon could lead to dire consequences. The annual commemoration of his imperial coronation on 27 September only further underscored how gloomy the public mood was. Countess Edling, lady-in-waiting to Empress Elisabeth, described how, on its way to the Holy Mother of Kazan Cathedral, the emperor’s glassed-in carriage slowly travelled through ‘a huge crowd, whose ominous silence and irritated faces contrasted with the festival that was being celebrated. Never in my life will I forget the instant when we walked up the steps of the cathedral, between two hedgerows of people who did not utter a sound of acclamation. One could have distinguished the sound of our footsteps, and I have never doubted that a spark at this moment could have set off a general conflagration. A glance at the emperor told me what was going on in his soul, and I felt my own knees sagging beneath me.’42
Alexander had to fight on. It was becoming perfectly clear to him that Napoleon had overplayed his hand and feared the prospect of wintering in Moscow’s ruins, where the climate, the lack of resources and the relaxation of discipline might succeed where the Russian armies had failed. As one modern scholar aptly put it, Alexander understood that ‘Napoleon could stay in Moscow all he liked, but Russia still had more armies, more beasts of burden to haul the ordnance through the inhospitable terrain, more carts on which to load the stores, and indeed a ready store of arms in the arms factory to the south of Moscow’.43 On 29 September Alexander acted to calm public opinion and shore up support from any allies who might question the Russian determination to continue the war now that their great city had fallen. He had Kutuzov’s lengthy report of 16 September published in the official Sankt-Peterburgskie vedomosti, along with a proclamation informing Russian society that Moscow had been abandoned. ‘But the great Russian people should not feel dejected,’ the emperor appealed to his subjects. ‘To the contrary, let us swear to be guided by a new spirit of valour and determination and hope that by fighting for a just cause we shall hurl back on the enemy all the misfortunes he wants to heap on us.’ Alexander spoke of the resilience of the Russian nation and the valour of Russian troops, while also describing the difficult conditions the enemy experienced in Moscow. He beseeched the Almighty to ‘preserve the courage and constancy of the [Russian] people! May it triumph over its and Thy adversary! May it be in Thy hands the instrument of his destruction and, by delivering itself, redeem the liberty and independence of nations and kings!’44
This proclamation was the response to Napoleon’s peace overtures. It made it abundantly clear that Alexander not only refused to negotiate peace terms but would from now on fight to reclaim Russian soil and ‘redeem the liberty and independence’ of the rest of Europe. Napoleon failed to grasp this and waited for an answer that never came. ‘At the Kremlin,’ recalled Constant, ‘the days were long and tedious.’ Napoleon rode almost daily through the city,45 mounted on one of his Arab stallions and accompanied by a few generals and aides-de-camp. He rarely spoke to anybody in the street. Among other things his spirits were depressed by the flocks of crows and jackdaws that appeared in the city. ‘Mon Dieu!’ he cried. ‘Do they mean to follow us everywhere?’ It was at this period that his valets noticed that Napoleon usually had on his night table Voltaire’s history of Charles XII’s disastrous campaign in Russia in 1709.46 The Emperor probably endured some very painful reflections every time he turned the pages of that book.
Lauriston’s Mission
By early October, two weeks after Yakovlev had taken Napoleon’s letter, it was becoming plain that Alexander would not condescend even to reply. Napoleon was naturally disappointed. On 3 October, ‘after a night of restlessness and anger’, he summoned his marshals. As soon as they appeared, he had Eugène read out his new plan.47 Over the next few minutes the marshals listened as the proposals that Napoleon had first elaborated at the Petrovskii Palace surfaced once more. Napoleon envisioned burning the remains of Moscow, marching via Tver to St Petersburg, where he would be joined by Macdonald. Murat and Davout would form the rear-guard. ‘The Emperor, all animation, fixed his sparkling eyes on his generals, whose frigid and silent countenances expressed nothing but astonishment. Then, exalting himself in order to rouse them, “What!” said he. “Are you not inspired by this idea? Was there ever so great a military achievement? Henceforth this conquest is the only one that is worthy of us! With what glory we shall be covered, and what will the whole world say, when it learns that in three months we have conquered the two great capitals of the North!”’48 But the marshals thought otherwise. Davout and Daru tried to dampen Napoleon’s enthusiasm by pointing out the lateness of the season, the scarcity of provisions, the bare and exposed nature of the road from Tver to St Petersburg. Why, they urged, go north, when winter was already at their very doors? And what about the thousands of wounded and sick in Moscow? Most importantly, what about the Russian army? It would certainly pursue them and the Grande Armée would then have to fight on two fronts. The time, they added, had come to end the campaign, not to prolong it. The question was not that of securing another superfluous victory, but of getting as quickly as possible into winter quarters. The marshals clearly saw not just the dangers of advancing in to the north through the fast-approaching winter, but also the precarious condition of the army. Irate at their lack of enthusiasm, Napoleon did not ask any further questions and ended the meeting abruptly.
The marshals’ obstinacy prompted Napoleon to pursue peace once more: Emperor Alexander must be persuaded to take the hand which Napoleon had proffered so late in the
game. It is possible, as Popov argues, that Napoleon believed Alexander’s silence was the result of Yakovlev’s failure to deliver the letter – it was not impossible that Yakovlev, who had been very reluctant to undertake this mission, simply accepted it to get his family out of the city and never intended to deliver the letter to the addressee.49 Therefore Napoleon decided to make a third attempt to contact Alexander, and this time he chose a trusted man to accomplish the mission. Napoleon initially considered sending one of his most capable diplomats, Caulaincourt, who had served as the French ambassador to Russia and established good relations with Emperor Alexander. Well informed and honest, Caulaincourt was a vigorous and outspoken critic of the war against Russia, and on at least one occasion Napoleon had accused him of Russian partisanship; in fact, for the past few weeks he had kept him at arm’s length. On 3 October Napoleon summoned Caulaincourt to discuss his decision to send him to negotiate peace with Russia. Caulaincourt, however, could not see the point in this and smartly observed that ‘the man does not burn his capital to sign a peace treaty on its ashes’.50 This was not what the emperor wanted to hear and he tried a change of tactics. Ségur tells us that Napoleon suddenly informed Caulaincourt that he planned to attack St Petersburg, knowing full well that ‘the destruction of that city would no doubt give pain to his grand-equerry’. With its capital sacked, Russia would then turn against the emperor Alexander, Napoleon argued. There would be a conspiracy against that monarch and he would be assassinated, which would be ‘a most unfortunate circumstance for us’. Alexander’s character, Napoleon added, was suitable to French interests and ‘no prince could replace him with such advantage to us’. He thought therefore of sending Caulaincourt to him, to prevent such a catastrophe. ‘Will you go to St Petersburg? You will see Emperor Alexander. I shall entrust you with a letter and you will make a peace.’ But Caulaincourt was unfazed and assured Napoleon that no one would receive him in St Petersburg. Napoleon countered that ‘Alexander will be all the more eager to seize this opportunity because his nobility, ruined by this war and the fire, desires peace.’ But Caulaincourt reminded him of Alexander’s earlier pledge not to listen to any proposals as long as a single French soldier remained in Russia. He warned that making a peaceful overture might actually be detrimental to the Allies, inasmuch as it would demonstrate Napoleon’s need for peace, and betray all the difficulties of his current situation. Thinking that he detected a personal motive behind Caulaincourt’s refusal to go to St Petersburg, where he had been popular and welcomed just a year and half ago, Napoleon suggested a compromise: he could travel instead to the headquarters of Field Marshal Kutuzov. But Caulaincourt refused again; he saw no point in meeting the Russian commander-in-chief, who would be unable to make any decisions without imperial consent. Irritated by Caulaincourt’s remarks, the emperor abruptly ended the conversation. ‘Very well, then, I will send Lauriston. He shall have the honour of having made peace and saving the crown of your friend Alexander.’51