rumor of the destruction of half his army was almost immediately
propagated in that city, from the singular commotion produced by
extraordinary events, which is known frequently to spread almost
instantaneously to prodigious distances. Still, however, the language of
the chiefs, the only persons who dared to speak, continued haughty and
threatening: many of the inhabitants, trusting to it, remained; but they
were every day more and more tormented by a painful anxiety. At nearly
one and the same moment, they were transported with rage, elevated by
hope, and overwhelmed with fear.
During one of these periods of dejection and dismay, while, prostrate
before the altars, or in their own houses before the images of their
saints, they had abandoned all hope but in Heaven, shouts of joy were
suddenly heard: the people instantly thronged the streets and the public
places to learn the cause. Intoxicated with delight, their eyes were
fixed on the cross of the principal church. A vulture had entangled
himself in the chains which supported it, and was held suspended by
them. This was a certain presage to minds whose natural superstition was
heightened by extraordinary anxiety: it was thus that their God would
seize and deliver Napoleon into their power.
Rostopchin took advantage of all these movements, which he excited or
checked according as they were favorable to him or otherwise. He caused
the most diminutive to be selected from the prisoners taken from the
French, and exhibited them to the people, that the latter might derive
courage from the sight of their weakness; and yet he emptied Moscow of
every kind of supplies, in order to feed the vanquished and to famish
the conquerors. This measure was easily carried into effect, as Moscow
was provisioned in spring and autumn by water only, and in winter by
sledges.
He was still attempting to preserve, with a remnant of hope, the order
that was necessary, especially in such a flight, when the effects of the
disaster at Borodino were fully manifested. The long train of wounded,
their groans, their garments and linen dyed with blood; their most
powerful nobles struck and overthrown like the rest: all this was a
novel and alarming sight to a city which had for such a length of time
been exempt from the horrors of war. The police redoubled their
activity; but the terror which they excited could not long make head
against a still greater terror.
Rostopchin once more addressed the people. He declared that "he would
defend Moscow to the last extremity; that the courts were already
closed, but that was of no consequence; that there was no occasion for
tribunals to try the guilty": he added that "in two days he would give
the signal." He recommended to the people to "arm themselves with
hatchets, and especially with three-pronged forks, as the French were
not heavier than a sheaf of wheat." As for the wounded, he said he
should cause "masses to be said, and the water to be blessed, in order
to their speedy recovery. The next day," he added, "he should repair to
Kutusoff, to take final measures for exterminating the enemy."
The Russian army, in their position in front of Moscow, numbered
ninety-one thousand men, six thousand of whom were Cossacks,[139]
sixty-five thousand veteran troops (the remnant of one hundred and
twenty-one thousand engaged at the Moskwa),[140] and twenty thousand
recruits, armed half with muskets and half with pikes.
The French army, one hundred and thirty thousand strong the day before
the great battle, had lost about forty thousand men at Borodino, and
still consisted of ninety thousand. Some regiments on the march, and the
divisions of Laborde and Pino, had just joined it: so that, on its
arrival before Moscow, it still amounted to nearly one hundred thousand
men. Its march was retarded by six hundred and seven pieces of cannon,
two thousand five hundred artillery carriages, and five thousand
baggage-wagons: it had no more ammunition than would suffice for one
engagement. Kutusoff perhaps calculated the disproportion between his
effective force and ours. On this point, however, nothing but conjecture
can be advanced, for he assigned purely military motives for his
retreat.
Thus much is certain, that Kutusoff deceived Rostopchin to the very last
moment. He even swore to him "by his gray hair that he would perish with
him before Moscow," when all at once the governor was informed that, in
a council of war held at night in the camp, it had been determined to
abandon the capital without a battle.
Rostopchin was incensed at this intelligence, but his resolution
remained unshaken. There was now no time to be lost; no farther pains
were taken to conceal from Moscow the fate that was destined for it;
indeed it was not worth while to dissemble for the sake of the few
inhabitants who were left; and, besides, it was necessary to induce them
to seek their safety in flight.
At night, therefore, emissaries went round, knocking at every door and
announcing the conflagration. Fuses were introduced at every favorable
aperture, especially into the shops covered with iron, in the
tradesmen's quarter, and the fire-engines were carried off. The
desolation had now attained its highest pitch, and each individual,
according to his disposition, was either overwhelmed with despair or
urged to a decision. Most of those who were left formed groups in the
public places; they crowded together, questioned each other, and asked
each other's advice; while many wandered about at random, some depressed
by terror, others in a frightful state of exasperation. At length the
army, their last hope, deserted them: the troops began to traverse the
city, and in their retreat they hurried along with them the still
considerable remnant of its population.
They departed by the Kolomna gate,[141] surrounded by a multitude of
women, children, and aged persons, in the deepest affliction. The fields
were covered with them. They fled in all directions, by every path,
across the country, without provisions, and laden with such of their
effects as, in their agitation, they had first laid their hands on.
Some, for want of horses, had harnessed themselves to carts, and in this
manner dragged along their infant children, a sick wife, or an infirm
father; in short, whatever they held most dear. The woods afforded them
shelter, and they subsisted on the charity of their countrymen.
On that day a terrific scene terminated this melancholy drama. This, the
last day of Moscow, having arrived, Rostopchin collected together all
whom he had been able to retain and arm. The prisons were thrown open. A
squalid and disgusting crew tumultuously issued from them. These
wretches rushed into the streets with ferocious joy. Two men, a Russian
and a Frenchman, the one accused of treason, the other of political
indiscretion, were selected from among this horde, and dragged before
Rostopchin, who fiercely reproached the Russian with his crime. He was
the son of a tradesman, and had been apprehended while exciting the
people to insurrection. A circumstance which occasioned alarm was the
discovery that he belonged to a sect of German religious and political
fanatics. His audacity had never failed him in prison. It was imagined,
for a moment, that the spirit of equality had penetrated into Russia. He
did not, however, disclose any accomplices.
At this crisis his father arrived. It was expected that he would
intercede for his son; but, on the contrary, he insisted on his death.
The governor granted him a few moments, that he might once more speak to
and bless him. "What, I! I bless a traitor!" exclaimed the enraged
Russian, and, turning to his son, with a horrid voice and gesture he
pronounced a curse upon him.
This was the signal for his execution. The poor wretch was struck down
by an ill-directed blow of a sabre. He fell, but wounded only, and
perhaps the arrival of the French might have saved him, had not the
people perceived that he was yet alive. They forced the barrier, fell
upon him, and tore him to pieces.
The Frenchman, during this scene, was petrified with terror. "As for
thee," said Rostopchin, turning towards him, "being a Frenchman, thou
canst not but wish for the arrival of the French army: be free, then,
and go and tell thy countrymen that Russia had but one traitor, and that
he has been punished." Then, addressing himself to the wretches who
surrounded him, he called them sons of Russia, and exhorted them to make
atonement for their crimes by serving their country. He was the last to
quit the doomed city, and he then rejoined the Russian army.
From that moment the mighty Moscow belonged neither to the Russians nor
to the French, but to that guilty horde whose fury was directed by a few
officers and soldiers of the police. They were organized, and each had
his post allotted to him, in order that pillage, fire, and devastation
might commence everywhere at once.
Sec. 4. Napoleon's first view of Moscow; the French enter the city.
That very day (September the 14th), Napoleon, being at length satisfied
that Kutusoff had not thrown himself on his right flank, rejoined his
advanced guard. He mounted his horse a few leagues from Moscow. He
marched slowly and cautiously, sending scouts before him to examine the
woods and the ravines, and to ascend all the eminences to look out for
the enemy's army. A battle was expected, and the ground favored the
opinion: works also had been begun, but they had all been abandoned, and
we experienced not the slightest resistance.
At length the last eminence only remained to be passed: it is contiguous
to Moscow, which it commands. It is called _The Hill of Salvation_,
because on its summit the inhabitants, at sight of their holy city,
cross and prostrate themselves. Our scouts soon gained the top of this
hill. It was two o'clock: the sun caused this great city to glisten with
a thousand colors. Struck with astonishment at the sight, they paused,
exclaiming, "Moscow! Moscow!" Every one quickened his pace; the troops
hurried on in disorder; and the whole army, clapping their hands,
repeated with transport, "Moscow! Moscow!" just as sailors shout "Land!
land!" at the conclusion of a long and toilsome voyage.
At the sight of this gilded city, of this splendid capital, uniting
Europe and Asia, of this magnificent emporium of the luxury and arts of
the two fairest divisions of the globe, we stood still, in proud
contemplation. What a glorious day had now arrived! It would furnish the
grandest, the most brilliant recollection of our whole lives. We felt at
this moment that all our actions would engage the attention of the
astonished world, and that every movement we made, however trivial,
would be recorded by history.
At that moment dangers and sufferings were all forgotten: was it
possible to purchase too dearly the proud felicity of being able to say
during the rest of life, "I belonged to the army of Moscow!"
Napoleon himself hastened up. He paused in transport: an exclamation of
delight escaped his lips. Ever since the great battle, the discontented
marshals had shunned him; but at the sight of captive Moscow, at the
intelligence of the arrival of a flag of truce, struck with so important
a result, and intoxicated with all the enthusiasm of glory, they forgot
their grievances. They pressed around the emperor, paying homage to his
good fortune, and already tempted to attribute to the foresight of his
genius the little pains he had taken on the 7th to complete his victory.
But in Napoleon, first emotions were of short duration. He had too much
to think of to indulge his sensations for any length of time. His first
exclamation was, "There at last is that famous city!" and the second,
"It was high time!"
His eyes fixed on this capital, already expressed nothing but
impatience: in it he beheld in imagination the whole Russian empire. Its
walls enclosed all his hopes, peace, the expenses of the war, immortal
glory: his eager looks, therefore, intently watched all its outlets.
When would its gates at length open? When should he see that deputation
come forth, which would place its wealth, its population, its senate,
and the principal of the Russian nobility at his disposal? Henceforth
that enterprise in which he had so rashly engaged, brought to a
successful termination by dint of boldness, would pass for the result of
a deep combination; his imprudence for greatness: henceforth his victory
at the Moskwa, incomplete as it was, would be deemed his greatest
achievement. Thus all that might have turned to his ruin would begin to
decide whether he was the greatest man in the world, or the most rash;
in short, whether he had raised himself an altar or dug for himself a
grave.
Anxiety, however, soon began to take possession of his mind. On his left
and right he beheld Prince Eugene and Poniatowski approaching the
hostile city; Murat, with his scouts, had already reached the entrance
of the suburbs, and yet no deputation appeared: an officer sent by
Miloradovitch[142] merely came to declare that his general would set
fire to the city if his rear was not allowed time to evacuate it.
Napoleon granted every demand. The troops of the two armies were for a
short time intermingled. Murat was recognized by the Cossacks, who, with
the familiarity of the wandering tribes, and curious and ardent as the
people of the south, thronged around him: then by their gestures and
exclamations they extolled his valor and intoxicated him with their
admiration. Murat took the watches of his officers, and distributed them
among these barbarous warriors. One of them called him his chief.
Murat was tempted to believe that among them he should find a new
Mazeppa,[143] or that he himself might become one: he imagined that he
had completely gained them over. This momentary armistice, under the
actual circumstances, sustained the hopes of Napoleon, such need had he
of self-delusion. He was amused in this way for two hours.
Meanwhile the day was declining, and Moscow continued dull, silent, and
seemingly inanimate. The anxiety of the emperor increased, and the
impatience of the soldiers could scarcely be repressed. Some officers
ventured within the walls of the city. Moscow was deserted!
At this intelligence, which he angrily refused to credit, Napoleon
ascended the Hill of Salvation, and approached the Moskwa and the
Dorogomilow gate.[144] He paused once more, but in vain, at the entrance
of that barrier. Murat pressed him to permit his soldiers to occupy the
city. "Well!" he replied, "let them enter, then, since they wish it!" He
recommended the strictest discipline: he still indulged hopes. "Perhaps
these inhabitants," he said, "do not even know how to surrender, for
here everything is new; they to us, and we to them."
Reports now began rapidly to succeed each other: they all agreed. Some
Frenchmen, residents of Moscow, ventured to quit the hiding-places which
for some days had concealed them from the fury of the populace, and
confirmed the fatal tidings. The emperor called Daru.[145] "Moscow
deserted!" he exclaimed: "what an improbable story! We must know the
truth of it. Go and bring me the boyars."[146] He imagined that those
men, stiff with pride or paralyzed by terror, remained motionless in
their houses; and he, who had hitherto been always met by the submission
of the vanquished, would encourage their confidence and anticipate 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, had been 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 a particle of smoke
arose from a single chimney; not the slightest noise issued from this
vast 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 further information. At length an officer, wishing to
gratify him, or persuaded that whatever he willed must necessarily be
accomplished, entered the city, seized five or six vagabonds, drove them
before his horse to the emperor, and presented them to him as a
deputation. From the first words they uttered, however, Napoleon
detected the imposture, and perceived that they were only poor laborers.
It was not till then that he ceased to doubt the entire evacuation of
Moscow, and gave up all the hopes that he had built upon it. He shrugged
his shoulders, and with that contemptuous look with which he met
everything that crossed his wishes, he exclaimed, "Ah! the Russians do
not know yet the effect which the taking of their capital will produce
upon them!"
It was now an hour since Murat and the long and close column of his
cavalry had entered Moscow: they penetrated to the centre of that
gigantic body, as yet untouched, but inanimate. Struck with profound
astonishment at finding a solitude so complete, they replied to the
stillness of this modern Thebes by a silence equally solemn. These
warriors listened, with a secret shuddering, to the sound of their
horses' steps among these deserted palaces. They were amazed to hear
nothing but the noise they themselves made amid such numerous
habitations. No one thought of stopping or of plundering, either from
prudence, or because highly civilized nations respect themselves in
enemies' capitals.
Meanwhile they were silently observing this mighty city, which would
have been truly remarkable had they met with it in a flourishing and
populous country, but which was here in these deserts still more
astonishing. It was like a rich and beautiful 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 among the classes,
and that luxury had not been generated there, as in other countries, by
industry, but had preceded it; whereas, in the natural order, it ought
to be more or less its proper consequence.
Amid these reflections, which were favored by the slowness of our march,
the report of firearms was all at once heard: the column halted. Its
last horses were still crossing 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 upon its walls. In a state of drunken fury, they uttered the
most horrible imprecations. Murat sent them amicable proposals, 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 Murat and endeavored to kill one
of his officers. It was thought sufficient to disarm him; but he again
fell upon his victim, threw him to the ground, and attempted to
suffocate him; and even after his arms were seized and held, he 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 frightful emblem 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, took no part in this scene: at the first summons they
dispersed; and 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
advance guard. The latter left to the corps which followed the task of
picking them up; these, again, to others, and so on; and thus they
remained at liberty in the midst of us, till the conflagration and
pillage of the city reminding them of their duty, and rallying in them
one general feeling of antipathy, they went and rejoined Kutusoff.
Murat, who had been stopped but a few moments by the Kremlin, dispersed
this despicable crew. Ardent and indefatigable as in Italy and Egypt,
after a march of twenty-seven hundred miles, 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 Vladimir and Asia.
Several thousand Cossacks, with four pieces of cannon, were retreating
in that direction: the armistice was at an end; and 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 goal of it; and the advanced posts of the two
empires seemed unwilling to renew hostilities. A fresh order arrived,
but the same hesitation prevailed. At length Murat, incensed at this
disobedience, gave his commands in person; and the firing, with which he
seemed to threaten Asia, but which was not destined to cease till we had
retreated to the banks of the Seine, was renewed.
Sec. 5. Napoleon takes up his quarters in the Kremlin; the city discovered
to be on fire.
Napoleon did not enter Moscow till after dark. He stopped in one of the
first houses of the Dorogomilow suburb. There he appointed Marshal
Mortier governor of that capital. "Above all," he said to him, "no
pillage. For this you shall be answerable to me with your life. Defend
Moscow against all, whether friend or foe."
That was a gloomy night: sinister reports rapidly followed each other.
Some Frenchmen, resident in the country, and even a Russian officer of
police, came to give intelligence respecting the conflagration. He
related all the particulars of the preparations that had been made for
it. The emperor, alarmed by these accounts, strove in vain to compose
himself to rest. He called every moment, and fatal tidings were repeated
to him. Still he persisted in his incredulity till about two in the
morning, when news was brought to him that the fire had actually broken
out.
It was at the Exchange, in the centre of the city, in its richest
quarter. Instantly he issued orders upon orders. As soon as it was
light, he himself hastened to the spot and threatened the Young Guard
and Mortier. 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 dejectedly
entered the Kremlin.
At the sight of this half-Gothic, half-modern palace of the Ruricks and
the Romanoffs, 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 great 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 of the city; and, in this brief
moment given to hope, sent proposals of peace to the Emperor Alexander.
A superior officer of the enemy 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 the
disaster to his sovereign, whose only answer was the conflagration of
his capital.
Daylight favored the efforts of the Duke of Treviso to subdue the
flames. The incendiaries kept themselves concealed. Doubts even were
entertained of their existence. At length, strict injunctions being
issued, order restored, and alarm for a moment suspended, each took
possession of a commodious house or sumptuous palace, under the idea of
finding comforts that had been dearly purchased by long and excessive
privations.