CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Evacuation of Moscow.[43]
The Reasons for Napoleon's Advance — The Importance of Moscow — The Burning of the City — The French Occupation — The Military Situation — Alexander's Steadfastness — Napoleon's Impatience — The Strategic Problem — The Exaggeration of the Factors — The Plan of Retreat — Malojaroslavetz — Napoleon's Vacillation.
Some insight into the state of Napoleon's mind may be secured by contemplating his conduct during and after the battle of Borodino. That conflict was, on the whole, the bloodiest and most fiercely contested of all so far fought by him. The French losses were computed by the Emperor at twenty thousand men, those of the Russians were not less than double the number. Yet the day was not decisive. Napoleon, suffering from a severe cold and loss of voice, displayed an unwonted lassitude. Setting a high value on his personal safety, he did not intervene at crucial moments, as he was wont to do and as he asserted was essential in the new science of war, for the purpose of electrifying officers and men. His scheme of rolling up Kutusoff's line by a double attack on left and center consequently failed, in the opinion of the greatest experts, because he did not throw in the guard on the center at the decisive moment. This failure was due to a disregard of his own maxim that "generals who save troops for the next day are always beaten"; not divining a complete cessation of hostilities by Kutusoff, he thought his reserve might be required on the morrow. It seems, too, as if he were gradually becoming aware of the dangers attendant on the prolongation of his base to Moscow. At Mozhaisk he halted three days, doubtless with the hope that Alexander would open negotiations to prevent the sack of his sacred capital. During this pause careful orders were issued for the concentration of a strong French reserve at Smolensk. Victor was summoned to bring in his thirty thousand men from the Niemen so as to be ready in an emergency to advance even as far as Moscow. It seems like a case of wilful self-deception that on the tenth Napoleon wrote to Maret as if convinced that the exposure of his flanks would escape Kutusoff's notice, saying that the enemy struck in the heart was occupied only with the heart, and not with the extremities. This would have been a justifiable confidence had Borodino been decisive. But it was not decisive, since the Russian army, far from being annihilated, drew off with its files, companies, and regiments so far intact as to be easily available for the quick incorporation of new recruits. This it was which gave verisimilitude to Kutusoff's boast and made the French occupation of Moscow a matter of doubtful expediency.
Yet the temptation was irresistible. Mother Moscow, as runs the caressing Russian phrase, is indeed the source of all Muscovite inspiration. Watered by the winding stream of the same name, its heart is the Kremlin, its citadel of Russian architecture, Russian orthodoxy, Russian authority, and Russian learning. From its churches are promulgated the authoritative utterances of the Greek Metropolitan, within its triangular walls is found the most characteristic Muscovite architecture, behind its portals stand the largest bell ever cast and the largest cannon ever founded until the most recent times; statues of Russian heroes adorn its open spaces, the splendors of its palaces are lavished with Muscovite profuseness, the edicts of the White Czar thunder over his many million subjects from its walls. Clustered about the Kremlin are the various quarters of the town, which cover a space equal to the area of Paris, and contain about one fourth as many inhabitants. The epithet of "holy city" is amply justified by the sanctuary-citadel, but its aptness is further sustained by the three hundred and sixty churches, each with its tower and onion-shaped cupola, which are scattered through all the districts. In the beginning of this century Moscow from within appeared like a congeries of villages surrounded with groves and gardens, each with its manor-house and parochial church. Around the whole was a girdle of country-seats, and the beauty of the scene as viewed by the approaching traveler was such as to kindle enthusiasm in the coldest breast. The inhabitants had hoped that the "victory" of Borodino would spare their home the shame of foreign occupation. When the governor announced that in a council of war it had been decided to abandon the city, there was first dismay, then fury, then despair. The long trains of departing citizens wailed their church hymns with sullen mien and joyless voices.
The surrender was marked by barbarous conduct on the part of the civil authorities. It has been recounted that by a military convention the Russian rear-guard had been permitted to withdraw unmolested after Borodino, in return for a promise not to destroy Moscow. Yet on September fourteenth, the day of the French occupation, as has also been told, fires had been kindled in the suburbs, whether by accident or design cannot be determined. Besides this, on receipt of the notice to evacuate, such stores as in the short interval could be reached were destroyed; the prison doors were opened, and a horde of maddened criminals was set free in the streets. Nevertheless, there was fair order throughout the fifteenth. Next day a raging conflagration burst forth. At the time, and long afterwards, this was attributed as a deed of dastardly incendiarism to the invaders; with the growth of modern ideas about ruthlessness in warfare, Russian historians have begun to attribute it to the inhabitants as a heroic measure. It is now asserted that the governor cast the first brand into his own country-seat. More probably, the fanaticism of the populace, heightened by the criminal rage of the escaped prisoners, led to the almost simultaneous firing of many buildings in various quarters. A possibility of method in the destruction of the city begins to dawn, however, when it is remembered that the devastation of the surrounding country by the fleeing Russians was equally thorough, and was carried out according to a carefully devised plan.
The entry of the French into Moscow has been compared to the appearance of great actors before an empty house. When the conflagration broke out, every effort was made to stop it, and eight hundred fire fiends were summarily punished. But as the burning walls of the storehouses fell, the rabble seized the barrels of spirits thus revealed, and drank themselves into blind fury; the French soldiery pillaged with little restraint, not sparing even the Kremlin. Finally, the flames were checked and order was restored, but not until three quarters of the city proper were destroyed; the Kremlin and the remaining fourth were saved. On the evening of the fourth day the French army was disposed in rude comfort within or about the site of Moscow, and Murat's riders began to bring in reports concerning Kutusoff's army. To soothe the peasantry of the neighboring districts, one of the old insidious proclamations was issued, appealing to their manhood against the tyranny of their rulers. "Die for your faith and the Czar!" was the answering cry, as they seized the French stragglers, surprised the garrison of Wereja, and beset the Smolensk road. Day by day the people labored, the townsfolk helping to gather the peasants' goods, both classes waylaying the French supply-trains, and hiding every article of use in vast underground chambers constructed for the purpose. Consternation filled the invaders, and their plight became desperate when they learned of the Russian military dispositions, and understood how Kutusoff already menaced their safety.
Instigated by Castlereagh, Bernadotte had released the Russian corps placed at his disposal for conquering Norway, and Wittgenstein, on the Russian right, thus suddenly acquired a force of forty thousand wherewith to menace Napoleon's outlying left on the north. By English mediation, also, a peace was arranged between Turkey and Russia, thus releasing Tchitchagoff, who promptly joined Tormassoff, and opposed Schwarzenberg on the extreme French right with nearly two to one. Meanwhile Kutusoff had taken a position at Tarutino, where he commanded the left flank of the main French army, and daily received new recruits, who flocked to fill his depleted ranks. Napoleon had, since Borodino, been in daily expectation of some communication from the Czar. His critical situation made him impatient, and on the twentieth he wrote, informing his strangely silent foe that Moscow was burned, a misfortune which might have been averted had negotiations been opened after Borodino. There was no response. On October fifth Lauriston was despatched to Kutusoff's camp, nominally to secure an exchange of prisoners. The latter said that the affair must be referred to St. Petersburg; but the French general learned that the Russians had extended their line south toward Kaluga to secure the fertile base behind, and further threaten the long, weak French flank.
Alexander's silent steadfastness was, indeed, remarkable. Hitherto in every crisis—as, for example, after Austerlitz and Friedland—he had yielded. Why was he now so firm? Stein, the Prussian patriot, was at his side; but so was the trusted Rumianzoff, leader of the French party, which was for peace. The Old Russian party, demoralized by Napoleon's advance to the heart of the empire, was also clamorous for peace negotiations. An English embassy, composed of Lord Cathcart and the body of English officers under Sir Robert Wilson sent to reorganize the Russian army, had so far been able to accomplish little, for by all accounts their influence was slight. The improved military situation no doubt accounts for much, but the best information goes to show that Alexander moved and talked like one dazed, feeling himself to be a storm-tossed child of fate. Destitute of self-reliance, he appears to have been drawn toward Galitzin, whose piety was eminent, and verged upon mysticism. It is certain that in those days the Czar for the first time became an ardent Bible reader, and frequently exclaimed, "The hand of God hath done this!" On leaving St. Petersburg at last for the seat of war, his parting act was to found the Russian Bible Society. It was with but small reliance on the military situation, and with a feeling of providential guidance, that he determined to renew the conflict.
Thus passed five weeks. Interminable they seemed to the anxious conqueror at Moscow, who yawned even at the theater; who forgot the stern abstemiousness of his table habits, and, like a gourmet, spent hours at his meals merely to kill time; who threw himself into vicious ways, and contracted a loathsome disease; who lost all interest even in his troops, and finally, unkempt, preoccupied, and feverish, seemed indifferent to everything. The crown, scepter, and robe wherewith he had hoped to be invested as Emperor of the West were not unpacked from the camp chests. The pompous ceremonies of military occupation were scrupulously performed; drills, parades, and concerts followed in due succession; but the Emperor's interest was languid. At last the dreary waiting became intolerable, the season, although neither early nor severe, was rapidly advancing, the predatory excursions of the soldiers into the surrounding country were growing longer, more difficult, and less fruitful of results with every day. The elements of danger were hourly increasing in an appalling ratio. Daru advised turning Moscow into an armed camp and wintering there. "A lion's advice," said Napoleon, but he put it aside. The question of retreat would soon be imperative, and that he sometimes discussed, but only languidly, until, on October eighteenth, without warning, a truce made by Murat was broken, and his command driven in. Then at last the captain in Napoleon awakened, the emperor vanished, the retreat was ordered, and universal empire, a dependent Czar, the march from Tiflis to the Ganges, England humiliated, and the ocean liberated—all were forgotten in the presence of reality. Robe, scepter, and crown were never seen again.