The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware (40 page)

All day the Emperor lay on a bearskin, only occasionally getting up to observe that part of the battle he could see through his spy glass. He gave no orders of importance, only nominating junior Generals to replace senior Generals when A.D.C.s galloped up to report that their commanders had been killed or grievously wounded. About him, covering acres of the grassy slope, sat or lay his grand reserve—the twenty thousand men of the Imperial Guard.

Late in the afternoon Ney believed that if he received reinforcements he was in a position to break right through the Russian centre. He sent an urgent appeal to the Emperor, begging him to launch the Guard. Roger was standing nearby. He had had one horse shot under him and had the bridle of his second horse over his arm. He had been slightly wounded by a small fragment of cannon ball in the left shoulder, a bullet had carried away his hat and grazed his scalp. His face was blackened by powder and his coat had been ripped down the side by the lance of a Cossack. More than half his fellow A.D.C.s had been killed or laid low, and of the few remaining he was the next for duty. He strained his ears to catch Napoleon's reply, dreading that he would be despatched back once
more through the fog of blinding smoke stabbed by the flashes of bursting cannon shells, over the heaps of wounded and between the overturned guns and limbers, to carry to Ney the longed-for message that the Guard was on its way.

The Emperor hesitated, Bessières was beside him. Leaning forward, he said, ‘Sire, we are eighteen hundred miles from Paris.' Feebly, Napoleon nodded. Ney's plea remained unanswered. The Guard sat on where they were, dozing, smoking their long pipes or playing cards.

As evening fell, the battle petered out, both armies having become utterly exhausted. The Russians still held most of their positions, what was left of the Grand Army withdrew. It had been the most bloody battle in history, and the carnage was almost incredible. The Russians had lost fifty-eight thousand men and the Grand Army over fifty thousand, including fifty-seven Generals. Over one hundred thousand troops lay dead or dying on the field, and the gallant General Prince Bagration was among the dead.

Both Napoleon and Kutuzov had intended to renew the battle on the following day; but the latter considered his losses to be so serious that he would not risk it, and withdrew his army during the night. Thus, although in fact the armies had fought each other to a standstill, the Emperor was able to claim a victory. As usual, in his bulletin he greatly increased the Russian losses and minimised his own. Next day, when walking over the battlefield, he remarked that there were five Russian dead for every one of his. The cynical Rapp said, in an aside to Roger, ‘He is mistaking Germans and Poles for Russians.'

The number of the dead was so enormous that no attempt was made to bury them, but the still-living were gradually collected and the overworked surgeons did what they could for them. In the next few days, by cannabilising units, the Grand Army reassumed the appearance of
a well-organised, formidable force of approximately seventy-five thousand men. The advance was then continued and, on the 14th, the main body marched up the western slopes of the Mont du Salut. Spread out below was Russia's old capital, ‘the Holy City'. It was a lovely day, the spires and domes of Moscow's three hundred and seventy churches glinted in the sunshine and had the appearance of an array of fairy palaces. The Emperor was still far from well, but greatly relieved to have Moscow in his grasp at last, as he felt certain that Alexander would now sue for peace.

Murat had been sent on ahead. Kutuzov had withdrawn his main force to Fili, but left General Miloradovitch behind with a strong rearguard. When Murat reached the gates of the city, a Russian officer came out to present what almost amounted to an ultimatum. Miloradovitch requested a temporary armistice while he evacuated Moscow, or he would fight to the last man defending it. Murat agreed his terms and then an extraordinary scene of fraternisation took place.

The Cossacks had never seen such a resplendent leader of cavalry as the King of Naples. He was wearing a green, fur-trimmed jacket, pink riding breeches and bright yellow boots. His hat sprouted not only ostrich plumes but also a heron's feather aigret rising from a diamond clasp the size of a pigeon's egg. His belt and spurs were gold, and in his hand he carried a golden wand with which, instead of a sword, he directed his troops in battle. The hilt of his sabre was encrusted with jewels, and a dozen decorations blazed on his chest. While he gracefully cavorted on his splendid mount, the Cossacks cheered him to the echo, then danced the
czardas
for him.

In due course, the Emperor arrived before the gates. In his time he had accepted the surrender of a score of great cities. The Governor had come out with a depressed-looking staff, surrendered his sword, offered the keys of
the city on a velvet cushion and begged that mercy should be shown to the inhabitants. Naturally, Napoleon expected this ritual to be performed. Having fumed for a while at the rude Russians for keeping him waiting, he sent Murat in to find out why they delayed. Murat returned with the disconcerting news that the Governor, General Rostopchin had, even more rudely, ridden off with Miloradovitch and that the greater part of the population had gone with them.

Grumpily, Napoleon allowed himself to be installed in the Kremlin; but he was by no means depressed. He had remarked that a capital that is occupied by an enemy is like a woman who has been taken prisoner and is being dishonoured. Surely Alexander would not submit to Moscow continuing to suffer such an indignity? Balashov would undoubtedly soon be turning up and this time be ready to accept practically any terms as the price of peace. It was now only a matter of waiting a week or so, then the Czar would have become as much of a puppet monarch as the King of Prussia. French garrisons would occupy all his principal fortresses and the Grand Army would march home in triumph.

On the evening that the French entered Moscow, a few fires started. No-one was surprised at that, as the troops had lost no time in starting to loot the city and many of them were already drunk; so such accidents were to be expected.

After their many weeks of privation, Moscow was a bonanza. Not only were there big stores of flour and grain, but all the palaces and four-fifths of the houses had been abandoned by their owners. The cellars of many of them were well stocked with wine and brandy, there were frozen meat, fish and game in the ice pits, cakes, sweets and preserved fruit in the larders. There was hardly a soldier in Moscow that night not glutted with food, and drunk.

Next day there were many more fires and, under the pretext of saving things from the flames, the troops got down to looting on a grand scale. They ransacked every building, carrying off fine clothes, weapons, jewelled icons, brocade curtains, furniture and even chandeliers. To show their contempt for religion, they stalled their horses in the churches, chopped up for firewood the beautifully-carved panels and stalls and used the altars as dinner tables. The sacred vessels of gold and silver were melted down and the relics of saints thrown out into the street.

But the fires soon became a serious menace, and it was realised that few of them were the result of accident. Among the people left in the city there was a considerable number of shaggy, bearded men dressed in a sort of uniform that consisted of a dirty, belted sheepskin kaftan. It transpired that they were convicts, who had been released from prison by Count Rostopchin before he left the city. Whether he had given them their freedom on condition that they became incendiaries, or whether they were inspired by a fanatical patriotism, was never satisfactorily determined. But they were setting fire to houses all over the place, and not even bothering to conceal what they were doing from the French.

Mortier, whom the Emperor had made Governor of the city, set about rounding them up. But by then it was too late. By the night of the 15th, three-quarters of Moscow was blazing, and the lurid glare of the flames was such that, three miles outside the city, one could read a book by their light.

Next day fire threatened the Kremlin. Berthier went up one of the towers to assess the danger of the situation, and nearly fell off the battlements which, had he done so, would have caused many of his compatriots to rejoice. His report was so alarming that Napoleon was persuaded to leave and move to the Petrovsky Palace outside the walls. It was too small to accommodate all his staff in comfort,
so they suffered much inconvenience. On the fourth day they were able to return to the Kremlin. It had been saved and, by then, most of the fires had been put out; but the greater part of Moscow was a smoking ruin.

The looting and carousing continued. Some fifteen thousand of the poorer people had remained in the city, so there was a considerable number of girls and not too elderly women who, willing or unwilling, were available to the troops, who then settled down to enjoy themselves. But the Emperor's staff were far from enjoying themselves in the Kremlin, for daily he became more ill-tempered and difficult to please.

No plenipotentiary had arrived from the Czar to beg him to state the terms on which he would go home. Greatly worried, he decided to write to Alexander and point out to him that he was very wrong to inflict such misery on his people when all he had to do was to enter into a mutually satisfactory arrangement, and their sufferings would cease. Two letters were despatched by Russian officers who had been taken prisoner. Whether either of them reached his destination he never knew, but he received no answer.

His next move was to send one of his own officers, General Lauriston, to Kutuzov who by then had moved his main force down to Tula, with the object of attempting to cut the Grand Army's communications. Lauriston returned to report that all Kutuzov would say was that his master had declared that he ‘would sooner grow a beard and live off potatoes than make peace as long as a single French soldier remained on Russian soil'.

It now seemed that there was no alternative for the Grand Army but to winter in Moscow, call up all the reinforcements possible and launch a new campaign in the spring to take St. Petersburg. Berthier was ordered to produce his ‘Bible', as the staff called the roster of the strength of every unit in the Army that he kept with such
meticulous care. Together they went into the figures. It emerged that if the Emperor called up Macdonald's corps and the Prussians from the Baltic coast, that of St Cyr, which had been left in the neighbourhood of Vitebsk, and Victor's from Smolensk, both employed in guarding the army's line of communications, Schwarzenberg's thirty thousand Austrians who had so far fired hardly a shot, and drew on the garrisons of the fortresses in Poland, Prussia and Germany, he could again have at his disposal an army of half a million troops. But how was he to feed them?

Murat's cavalry had already been despatched far and wide to seize every head of cattle, bag of flour and bale of hay they could lay their hands on, but it seemed to the French, who were used to the highly-populated areas of western and southern Europe that Moscow had been set down in a vast, almost uninhabited plain. Still worse, Murat reported that the Cossacks were becoming more daring. Only a few days before they had encountered one of his regiments, killed its Colonel and cut a great part of it to pieces. They appeared to be closing in on every side.

So, all through September and into October the scene darkened for Napoleon.

It was on the morning of the 7th that Roger, as A.D.C. on first duty, reported to him and, after an abrupt nod, the Emperor snapped:

‘Breuc, you are a friend of the Czar?'

Roger hesitated only a moment. He could not guess what was coming, but knew the Emperor's fabulous memory too well to lie about such a matter. He could only pray that it had not somehow come to Napoleon's ears that he had spent a good part of the spring in St. Petersburg. Bowing, he replied:

‘I have the honour to be acquainted with His Imperial Majesty, Sire.' Then he held his breath.

Napoleon regarded him glumly. ‘Yes, I recall that after
you were taken prisoner at Eylau he arranged for you to be exchanged; and one day at Erfurt I noticed in my police report that you had had a private audience with him.'

‘That is so, Sire.'

‘Then you must go to him for me. Either he fails to receive my letters or he ignores them. I am convinced the former is the case. He is eccentric and at times has idiotic dreams of bringing in dangerous reforms which would hamstring his own authority; but he is by no means a fool. He must be made to realise that things cannot continue like this. Our people have already cut a great swathe a hundred miles wide, from Kovno to Moscow, through his country, and brought ruin to Vilna, Vitebsk and Smolensk, not to mention scores of smaller places. And Moscow! Just think what has befallen this once splendid city! Does he want me to winter here, then march on St. Petersburg in the spring and cause it also to be destroyed? Surely not!

‘Tell him that I will not be unreasonable. I will withdraw my support from the Poles, so that he can do what he likes in Poland. He can have eastern Prussia too, as compensation for the damage done to Russia. You can even promise that he can have Constantinople when, together, we have defeated the Turk. Later I can think again about that. But peace we must make, and soon. He cannot know it, but our situation here is becoming desperate. Get us out of it and that will be as great a service to me as winning a major battle. I cannot give you a Marshal's baton, but I will make you a Duke. You will, of course, go under a flag of truce. Take any escort you require. Go now, Breuc, and for God's sake persuade him to see reason.'

Using the sort of
Gasconerie
that Napoleon liked about him Roger, instead of bowing himself out, sprang
to attention, threw up his head, cried, ‘To hear is to obey, Sire!' turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

He could not have been more pleased at being chosen for this mission, as to find a means of communicating with the Czar had been on his conscience for some time. He could, as Alexander had suggested, have let himself be taken prisoner; but in this campaign, that would have entailed a very considerable risk. Few Russians were allowing themselves to be captured. They seemed to prefer fighting to the death, and this disregard for life frequently led them to kill off any prisoners they took. Roger would have liked to honour his bond, but was not prepared to make what might prove a futile attempt, and possibly throw away his life for nothing. As there seemed no other way in which he could convey information about the state to which the Grand Army had been reduced, he had let matters slide. Now he could report to Alexander with little risk; but he decided against taking an escort, as when he did reach St. Petersburg it would have proved a great embarrassment. Three-quarters of an hour later, he was on his way to the northern capital.