Book: History of the Expedition to Russia

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Murat was for a moment tempted to believe that in these officers he
should find a new Mazeppa, or that he himself should become one: he
imagined that he had gained them over. This momentary armistice, under
the actual circumstances, sustained the hopes of Napoleon, such need had
he to delude himself. He was thus amused for two hours.

Meanwhile the day was declining, and Moscow continued dull, silent, and
as it were inanimate. The anxiety of the emperor increased; the
impatience of the soldiers became more difficult to be repressed. Some
officers ventured within the walls of the city. "Moscow is deserted!"

At this intelligence, which he angrily refused to credit, Napoleon
descended the Hill of Salvation, and approached the Moskwa and the
Dorogomilow gate. He paused once more, but in vain, at the entry of that
barrier. Murat urged him. "Well!" replied he, "enter then, since they
wish it!" He recommended the strictest discipline; he still indulged
hopes. "Perhaps these inhabitants do not even know how to surrender: for
here every thing is new; they to us, and we to them."

Reports now began to succeed each other: they all agreed. Some
Frenchmen, inhabitants of Moscow, ventured to quit the hiding-place
which for some days had concealed them from the fury of the populace,
and confirmed the fatal tidings. The emperor called Daru. "Moscow
deserted!" exclaimed he: "what an improbable story! We must know the
truth of it. Go and bring me the boyars." He imagined that those men,
stiff with pride, or paralysed with terror, were fixed motionless in
their houses: and he, who had hitherto been always met by the submission
of the vanquished, provoked their confidence, and anticipated their
prayers.

How, indeed, was it possible for him to persuade himself, that so many
magnificent palaces, so many splendid temples, so many rich mercantile
establishments, were forsaken by their owners, like the paltry hamlets
through which he had recently passed. Daru's mission however was
fruitless. Not a Muscovite was to be seen; not the least smoke rose from
a single chimney; not the slightest noise issued from this immense and
populous city; its three hundred thousand inhabitants seemed to be
struck dumb and motionless by enchantment: it was the silence of the
desert!

But such was the incredulity of Napoleon, that he was not yet convinced,
and waited for farther information. At length, an officer, determined to
gratify him, or persuaded that whatever the Emperor willed must
necessarily be accomplished, entered the city, seized five or six
vagabonds, drove them before his horse to the Emperor, and imagined that
he had brought him a deputation. From the first words they uttered,
Napoleon discovered that the persons before him were only indigent
labourers.

It was not till then that he ceased to doubt the entire evacuation of
Moscow, and lost all the hopes that he had built upon it. He shrugged
his shoulders, and with that contemptuous look with which he met every
thing that crossed his wishes, he exclaimed, "Ah! the Russians know not
yet the effect which the taking of their capital will produce upon
them!"




CHAP. V.


It was now an hour since Murat, and the long and close column of his
cavalry, had entered Moscow; they penetrated into that gigantic body, as
yet untouched, but inanimate. Struck with profound astonishment at the
sight of this complete solitude, they replied to the taciturnity of this
modern Thebes, by a silence equally solemn. These warriors listened,
with a secret shuddering, to the steps of their horses resounding alone,
amid these deserted palaces. They were astonished to hear nothing but
themselves amid such numerous habitations. No-one thought of stopping or
of plundering, either from prudence, or because great civilized nations
respect themselves in enemies' capitals, in the presence of those great
centers of civilization.

Meanwhile they were silently observing that mighty city, which would
have been truly remarkable had they met with it in a flourishing and
populous country, but which was still more astonishing in these deserts.
It was like a rich and brilliant oasis. They had at first been struck by
the sudden view of so many magnificent palaces; but they now perceived
that they were intermingled with mean cottages; a circumstance which
indicated the want of gradation between the classes, and that luxury was
not generated there, as in other countries, by industry, but preceded
it; whereas, in the natural order, it ought to be its more or less
necessary consequence.

Here more especially prevailed inequality--that bane of all human
society, which produces pride in some, debasement in others, corruption
in all. And yet such a generous abandonment of every thing demonstrated
that this excessive luxury, as yet however entirely borrowed, had not
rendered these nobles effeminate.

They thus advanced, sometimes agitated by surprise, at others by pity,
and more frequently by a noble enthusiasm. Several cited events of the
great conquests which history has handed down to us; but it was for the
purpose of indulging their pride, not to draw lessons from them; for
they thought themselves too lofty and beyond all comparison: they had
left behind them all the conquerors of antiquity. They were exalted by
that which is second to virtue only, by glory. Then succeeded
melancholy; either from the exhaustion consequent on so many sensations,
or the effect of the operation produced by such an immeasurable
elevation, and of the seclusion in which we were wandering on that
height, whence we beheld immensity, infinity, in which our weakness was
lost: for the higher we ascend, the more the horizon expands, and the
more conscious we become of our own insignificance.

Amid these reflexions, which were favoured by a slow pace, the report of
fire-arms was all at once heard: the column halted. Its last horses
still covered the fields; its centre was in one of the longest streets
of the city; its head had reached the Kremlin. The gates of that citadel
appeared to be closed. Ferocious cries issued from within it: men and
women, of savage and disgusting aspect, appeared fully armed on its
walls. In a state of filthy inebriety, they uttered the most horrible
imprecations. Murat sent them an amicable message, but to no purpose. It
was found necessary to employ cannon to break open the gate.

We penetrated partly without opposition, partly by force, among these
wretches. One of them rushed close to the king, and endeavoured to kill
one of his officers. It was thought sufficient to disarm him, but he
again fell upon his victim, rolled him on the ground, and attempted to
suffocate him; and even after his arms were seized and held, he still
strove to tear him with his teeth. These were the only Muscovites who
had waited our coming, and who seemed to have been left behind as a
savage and barbarous token of the national hatred.

It was easy to perceive, however, that there was no unison in this
patriotic fury. Five hundred recruits, who had been forgotten in the
Kremlin, beheld this scene without stirring. At the first summons they
dispersed. Farther on, we overtook a convoy of provisions, the escort of
which immediately threw down its arms. Several thousand stragglers and
deserters from the enemy, voluntarily remained in the power of our
advanced guard. The latter left to the corps which followed the task of
picking them up; and these to others, and so on: hence they remained at
liberty in the midst of us, till the conflagration and pillage of the
city having reminded them of their duty, and rallied them all in one
general feeling of antipathy, they went and rejoined Kutusoff.

Murat, who had been stopped but a few moments by the Kremlin, dispersed
this crew which he despised. Ardent and indefatigable as in Italy and
Egypt, after a march of nine hundred leagues, and sixty battles fought
to reach Moscow, he traversed that proud city without deigning to halt
in it, and pursuing the Russian rear-guard, he boldly, and without
hesitation, took the road for Wladimir and Asia.

Several thousand Cossacks, with four pieces of cannon, were retreating
in that direction. The armistice was at an end. Murat, tired of this
peace of half a day, immediately ordered it to be broken by a discharge
of carbines. But our cavalry considered the war as finished; Moscow
appeared to them to be the term of it, and the advanced posts of the two
empires were unwilling to renew hostilities. A fresh order arrived, and
the same hesitation prevailed. At length Murat, irritated at this
disobedience, gave his orders in person; and the firing, with which he
seemed to threaten Asia, but which was not destined to cease till we
reached the banks of the Seine, was renewed.




CHAP. VI.


Napoleon did not enter Moscow till after dark. He stopped in one of the
first houses of the Dorogomilow suburb. There he appointed Marshal
Mortimer governor of that capital. "Above all," said he to him, "no
pillage? For this you shall be answerable to me with your life. Defend
Moscow against all, whether friend or foe."

That night was a gloomy one: sinister reports followed one upon the
heels of another. Some Frenchmen, resident in the country, and even a
Russian officer of police, came to denounce the conflagration. He gave
all the particulars of the preparations for it. The Emperor, alarmed by
these accounts, strove in vain to take some rest. He called every
moment, and had the fatal tidings repeated to him. He nevertheless
entrenched himself in his incredulity, till about two in the morning,
when he was informed that the fire had actually broken out.

It was at the exchange, in the centre of the city, in its richest
quarter. He instantly issued orders upon orders. As soon as it was
light, he himself hastened to the spot, and threatened the young guard
and Mortimer. The Marshal pointed out to him some houses covered with
iron; they were closely shut up, still untouched and uninjured without,
and yet a black smoke was already issuing from them. Napoleon pensively
entered the Kremlin.

At the sight of this half Gothic and half modern palace of the Ruriks
and the Romanofs, of their throne still standing, of the cross of the
great Ivan, and of the finest part of the city, which is overlooked by
the Kremlin, and which the flames, as yet confined to the bazaar, seemed
disposed to spare, his former hopes revived. His ambition was flattered
by this conquest. "At length then," he exclaimed, "I am in Moscow, in
the ancient palace of the Czars, in the Kremlin!" He examined every part
of it with pride, curiosity, and gratification.

He required a statement of the resources afforded by the city; and in
this brief moment given to hope, he sent proposals of peace to the
Emperor Alexander. A superior officer of the enemy's had just been found
in the great hospital; he was charged with the delivery of this letter.
It was by the baleful light of the flames of the bazaar that Napoleon
finished it, and the Russian departed. He was to be the bearer of the
news of this disaster to his sovereign, whose only answer was this
conflagration.

Daylight favoured the efforts of the Duke of Treviso, to subdue the
fire. The incendiaries kept themselves concealed. Doubts were
entertained of their existence. At length, strict injunctions being
issued, order restored, and alarm suspended, each took possession of a
commodious house, or sumptuous palace, under the idea of there finding
comforts that had been dearly purchased by long and excessive
privations.

Two officers had taken up their quarters in one of the buildings of the
Kremlin. The view hence embraced the north and west of the city. About
midnight they were awakened by an extraordinary light. They looked and
beheld palaces filled with flames, which at first merely illuminated,
but presently consumed these elegant and noble structures. They observed
that the north wind drove these flames directly towards the Kremlin, and
became alarmed for the safety of that fortress in which the flower of
their army and its commander reposed. They were apprehensive also for
the surrounding houses, where our soldiers, attendants and horses, weary
and exhausted, were doubtless buried in profound sleep. Sparks and
burning fragments were already flying over the roofs of the Kremlin,
when the wind, shifting from north to west, blew them in another
direction.

One of these officers, relieved from apprehension respecting his corps,
then composed himself again to sleep, exclaiming, "Let others look to it
now; 'tis no affair of ours." For such was the unconcern produced by the
multiplicity of events and misfortunes, and such the selfishness arising
from excessive suffering and fatigue, that they left to each only just
strength and feeling sufficient for his personal service and
preservation.

It was not long before fresh and vivid lights again awoke them. They
beheld other flames rising precisely in the new direction which the wind
had taken towards the Kremlin, and they cursed French imprudence and
want of discipline, to which they imputed this disaster. But three times
did the wind thus change from north to west, and three times did these
hostile fires, as if obstinately bent on the destruction of the imperial
quarters, appear eager to follow this new direction.

At this sight a strong suspicion seized their minds. Can the Muscovites,
aware of our rash and thoughtless negligence, have conceived the hope of
burning with Moscow our soldiers, heavy with wine, fatigue and sleep; or
rather, have they dared to imagine that they should involve Napoleon in
this catastrophe; that the loss of such a man would be fully equivalent
to that of their capital; that it was a result sufficiently important to
justify the sacrifice of all Moscow to obtain it; that perhaps Heaven,
in order to grant them so signal a victory, had decreed so great a
sacrifice; and lastly, that so immense a colossus required a not less
immense funeral pile?

Whether this was their plan we cannot tell, but nothing less than the
Emperor's good fortune was required to prevent its being realized. In
fact, not only did the Kremlin contain, unknown to us, a magazine of
gunpowder; but that very night, the guards, asleep and carelessly
posted, suffered a whole park of artillery to enter and draw up under
the windows of Napoleon.

It was at this moment that the furious flames were driven from all
quarters with the greatest violence towards the Kremlin; for the wind,
attracted no doubt by this vast combustion, increased every moment in
strength. The flower of the army and the Emperor would have been
destroyed, if but one of the brands that flew over our heads had
alighted on one of the powder-waggons. Thus upon each of the sparks that
were for several hours floating in the air, depended the fate of the
whole army.

At length the day, a gloomy day, appeared: it came to add to the horrors
of the scene, and to deprive it of its brilliancy. Many of the officers
sought refuge in the halls of the palace. The chiefs, and Mortimer
himself, overcome by the fire with which, for thirty six hours, they had
been contending, there dropped down from fatigue and despair.

They said nothing and we accused ourselves. Most of us imagined that
want of discipline in our troops and intoxication had begun the
disaster, and that the high wind had completed it. We viewed ourselves
with a sort of disgust. The cry of horror which all Europe would not
fail to set up terrified us. Filled with consternation by so tremendous
a catastrophe, we accosted each other with downcast looks: it sullied
our glory; it deprived us of the fruits of it; it threatened our present
and our future existence; we were now but an army of criminals, whom
Heaven and the civilized world would severely judge. From these
overwhelming thoughts and paroxysms of rage against the incendiaries, we
were roused only by an eagerness to obtain intelligence; and all the
accounts began to accuse the Russians alone of this disaster.

In fact, officers arrived from all quarters, and they all agreed. The
very first night, that of the 14th, a fire-balloon had settled on the
palace of Prince Trubetskoi, and consumed it: this was a signal. Fire
had been immediately set to the Exchange: Russian police soldiers had
been seen stirring it up with tarred lances. Here howitzer shells,
perfidiously placed, had discharged themselves in the stoves of several
houses, and wounded the military who crowded round them. Retiring to
other quarters which were still standing, they sought fresh retreats;
but when they were on the point of entering houses closely shut up and
uninhabited, they had heard faint explosions within; these were
succeeded by a light smoke, which immediately became thick and black,
then reddish, and lastly the colour of fire, and presently the whole
edifice was involved in flames.

All had seen hideous-looking men, covered with rags, and women
resembling furies, wandering among these flames, and completing a
frightful image of the infernal regions. These wretches, intoxicated
with wine and the success of their crimes, no longer took any pains to
conceal themselves: they proceeded in triumph through the blazing
streets; they were caught, armed with torches, assiduously striving to
spread the conflagration: it was necessary to strike down their hands
with sabres to oblige them to loose their hold. It was said that these
banditti had been released from prison by the Russian generals for the
purpose of burning Moscow; and that in fact so grand, so extreme a
resolution could have been adopted only by patriotism and executed only
by guilt.

Orders were immediately issued to shoot all the incendiaries on the
spot. The army was on foot. The old guard which exclusively occupied one
part of the Kremlin, was under arms: the baggage, and the horses ready
loaded, filled the courts; we were struck dumb with astonishment,
fatigue and disappointment, on witnessing the destruction of such
excellent quarters. Though masters of Moscow, we were forced to go and
bivouac without provisions outside its gates.

While our troops were yet struggling with the conflagration, and the
army was disputing their prey with the flames, Napoleon, whose sleep
none had dared to disturb during the night, was awoke by the two-fold
light of day and of the fire. His first feeling was that of irritation,
and he would have commanded the devouring element; but he soon paused
and yielded to impossibility. Surprised that when he had struck at the
heart of an empire, he should find there any other sentiment than
submission and terror, he felt himself vanquished, and surpassed in
determination.

This conquest, for which he had sacrificed every thing, was like a
phantom which he had pursued, and which at the moment when he imagined
he had grasped it, vanished in a mingled mass of smoke and flame. He was
then seized with extreme agitation; he seemed to be consumed by the
fires which surrounded him. He rose every moment, paced to and fro, and
again sat down abruptly. He traversed his apartments with quick steps:
his sudden and vehement gestures betrayed painful uneasiness: he
quitted, resumed, and again quitted, an urgent occupation, to hasten to
the windows and watch the progress of the conflagration. Short and
incoherent exclamations burst from his labouring bosom. "What a
tremendous spectacle!--It is their own work!--So many palaces!--What
extraordinary resolution!--What men!--These are Scythians indeed!"

Between the fire and him there was an extensive vacant space, then the
Moskwa and its two quays; and yet the panes of the windows against which
he leaned felt already burning to the touch, and the constant exertions
of sweepers, placed on the iron roofs of the palace, were not sufficient
to keep them clear of the numerous flakes of fire which alighted upon
them.

At this moment a rumour was spread that the Kremlin was undermined: this
was confirmed, it was said, by Russians, and by written documents. Some
of his attendants were beside themselves with fear; while the military
awaited unmoved what the orders of the Emperor and fate should decree:
And to this alarm the Emperor replied only with a smile of incredulity.

But he still walked convulsively; he stopped at every window, and beheld
the terrible, the victorious element furiously consuming his brilliant
conquest; seizing all the bridges, all the avenues to his fortress,
inclosing, and as it were besieging him in it; spreading every moment
among the neighbouring houses; and, reducing him within narrower and
narrower limits, confining him at length to the site of the Kremlin
alone.

We already breathed nothing but smoke and ashes. Night approached, and
was about to add darkness to our dangers: the equinoxial gales, in
alliance with the Russians, increased in violence. The King of Naples
and Prince Eugene hastened to the spot: in company with the Prince of
Neufchatel they made their way to the Emperor, and urged him by their
entreaties, their gestures, and on their knees, and insisted on removing
him from this scene of desolation. All was in vain.

Napoleon, in possession of the palace of the Czars, was bent on not
yielding that conquest even to the conflagration, when all at once the
shout of "the Kremlin is on fire!" passed from mouth to mouth, and
roused us from the contemplative stupor with which we had been seized.
The Emperor went out to ascertain the danger. Twice had the fire
communicated to the building in which he was, and twice had it been
extinguished; but the tower of the arsenal was still burning. A soldier
of the police had been found in it. He was brought in, and Napoleon
caused him to be interrogated in his presence. This man was the
incendiary: he had executed his commission at the signal given by his
chief. It was evident that every thing was devoted to destruction, the
ancient and sacred Kremlin itself not excepted.

The gestures of the Emperor betokened disdain and vexation: the wretch
was hurried into the first court, where the enraged grenadiers
dispatched him with their bayonets.

[Illustration: Conflagration of Moscow]




CHAP. VII.


This incident had decided Napoleon. He hastily descended the northern
staircase, famous for the massacre of the Strelitzes, and desired to be
conducted out of the city, to the distance of a league on the road to
Petersburgh, toward the imperial palace of Petrowsky.

But we were encircled by a sea of fire, which blocked up all the gates
of the citadel, and frustrated the first attempts that were made to
depart. After some search, we discovered a postern gate leading between
the rocks to the Moskwa. It was by this narrow passage that Napoleon,
his officers and guard escaped from the Kremlin. But what had they
gained by this movement? They had approached nearer to the fire, and
could neither retreat nor remain where they were; and how were they to
advance? how force a passage through the waves of this ocean of flame?
Those who had traversed the city, stunned by the tempest, and blinded by
the ashes, could not find their way, since the streets themselves were
no longer distinguishable amidst smoke and ruins.

There was no time to be lost. The roaring of the flames around us became
every moment more violent. A single narrow winding street completely on
fire, appeared to be rather the entrance than the outlet to this hell.
The Emperor rushed on foot and without hesitation into this narrow
passage. He advanced amid the crackling of the flames, the crash of
floors, and the fall of burning timbers, and of the red-hot iron roofs
which tumbled around him. These ruins impeded his progress. The flames
which, with impetuous roar, consumed the edifices between which we were
proceeding spreading beyond the walls, were blown about by the wind, and
formed an arch over our heads. We walked on a ground of fire, beneath a
fiery sky, and between two walls of fire. The intense heat burned our
eyes, which we were nevertheless obliged to keep open and fixed on the
danger. A consuming atmosphere, glowing ashes, detached flames, parched
our throats, and rendered our respiration short and dry; and we were
already almost suffocated by the smoke. Our hands were burned, either in
endeavouring to protect our faces from the insupportable heat, or in
brushing off the sparks which every moment covered and penetrated our
garments.

In this inexpressible distress, and when a rapid advance seemed to be
our only mean of safety, our guide stopped in uncertainty and agitation.
Here would probably have terminated our adventurous career, had not some
pillagers of the first corps recognised the Emperor amidst the whirling
flames: they ran up and guided him towards the smoking ruins of a
quarter which had been reduced to ashes in the morning.

It was then that we met the Prince of Eckmuehl. This marshal, who had
been wounded at the Moskwa, had desired to be carried back among the
flames to rescue Napoleon, or to perish with him. He threw himself into
his arms with transport; the emperor received him kindly, but with that
composure which in danger he never lost for a moment.

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