The Burning of Moscow Read online

  It was shortly after 6pm when Bourgogne, who was bivouacked with his comrades near the governor’s mansion, saw ‘on our right, a thick smoke, then a whirl of flames, not knowing whence it came. We were told the fire was in the Bazaar [Merchant Court], the merchants’ quarter. “They are probably freebooters,” we were told, “who have carelessly set fire to the shops in searching for provisions.”’ By 7pm, however, the fire had spread to the Place du Gouvernement, prompting a Guard officer to order that a small patrol of men should leave at once. Bourgogne was among those who ‘went in the direction of the fire, but we had hardly gone three hundred steps before we heard some firing on our right’. The shots came from a blind alley and claimed a few wounded among the Allies, who advanced to the house where the firing came from, beat in the door, and came face to face with nine Russians armed with lances and muskets. The two groups plunged into a fierce hand-to-hand combat but it was an unequal struggle, with the nineteen Allies against nine Russians, who ‘were drunk with the brandy they had found in quantities, so that they were like madmen’. Attempting to return to the Place du Gouvernement, Bourgogne was surprised ‘to find this impossible, the fire having spread to such an enormous extent! To right and left was one wreath of flames, the wind was blowing hard, and the roofs were falling in.’ Taking another course, this small group found shelter at a ‘magnificent palace’, where they wandered about in vast and beautiful rooms for more than an hour before hearing a terrible explosion. ‘The shock was so great that we felt certain of being crushed under the ruins of the palace,’ Bourgogne recalled. After a quick search they discovered that ‘a bomb had been concealed in an earthenware stove’, which caused significant damage to the palace and set it on fire. ‘The smoke was bursting out in several places thick and black, then it became red, and finally the whole building was in flames. At the end of a quarter of an hour the roof, made of coloured and varnished iron, fell in with a frightful noise, bringing with it three-quarters of the entire building.’

  At the Solyanka the fires threatened the nearby Foundlings Home that was established in 1763 on the initiative of I. Betskii ‘to receive and take care of foundlings and homeless children’. The Home, operating under the exalted patronage of the Dowager Empress Maria Fedorovna, occupied a massive building on the bank of the Moscow river. The director of this institution, State Councillor Ivan Tutolmin, had appealed several times to Governor Rostopchin to make arrangements for the evacuation of the remaining orphans but his requests had been effectively ignored; on the eve of the Allied occupation it housed 586 children, including 275 toddlers, and had a staff of over 500 people.26 Tutolmin, tasked with protecting hundreds of children, many of whom had not turned 11 years old yet, struggled valiantly to protect his institution amidst the disorder and pillaging. In the evening the fires erupting in the neighbouring districts threatened the Foundlings Home, prompting Tutolmin to seek help from the Allied forces, whom he saw busy mastering the blazes. He managed to get to the Kremlin and contacted General Durosnel, who immediately ordered a safeguarding picket of twelve gendarmes and an officer to be posted at the Home.27 Throughout the night Tutolmin and the gendarmes, assisted by the Foundlings Home’s remaining officials and even children, fought to protect the building from fire. Their efforts were considerably facilitated by the presence of the institution’s fire equipment, which had not been removed despite Rostopchin’s orders.28

  Sometime after 7pm a colossal explosion rocked the Yauza river area, east of the Kremlin. Climbing on to the roof of her house, Madame Fusil, an actress attached to the French company in Moscow, saw ‘a strange object resembling a flaming sword’, while Abbé Adrien Surugue, who had been in charge of the Church of St-Louis des Français since 1808, recorded in his diary that, just as the Russian evacuation of the city was completed, ‘a fiery ball appeared near the Yauza river, serving as an ominous sign to those remaining … Near the Petrovskii bridge, a large house filled with alcohol, which belonged to the Wine Merchants’ Court [Vinnyi dvor], was also consumed by fire, which spread to the neighbouring storehouse, completely destroying it.’29 Ségur also recalled that ‘the very first night, a fireball had settled on the palace of Trubetskoi and consumed it’, while General Dedem der Gelder described hearing ‘a violent detonation’ from the direction of the Kaluzhskaya barrier and thought ‘it was a powder magazine the enemy was blowing up. It seems to have been an agreed signal, for a moment afterwards I saw several rockets going up, and half an hour later fire broke out in various quarters of the town, notably in the Vladimirskii suburb.’30 It was probably these ‘rockets’ that Charles de Quaij, the Dutch captain of the grenadiers in the Imperial Guard, described in his letter to his parents, noting, ‘as we reached the city barrier, we saw fireworks in the city. We thought that the French inhabitants were welcoming His Majesty [Napoleon], but we were mistaken.’31 The explosion was so powerful that Sergei Glinka, miles away from the city, heard a ‘crash like thunder and [saw] a flame shooting up into the sky’. Heinrich von Roos and his Württemberg comrades, who had bivouacked in the eastern suburbs of Moscow, beside the road leading to Vladimir and Kazan, also heard ‘a sudden and terrible explosion’ and thought it was either ‘an ammunition magazine or the so-called infernal machine of a large size’. It seemed to them that the explosion occurred in the centre of the town, ‘though it is hard to be sure of one’s sense of direction at night’. It was an explosion of veritable strength, causing ‘an enormous jet of flames’ from which balls of fire were coming out in various trajectories as if a mass of bombs and shells had been simultaneously thrown up.

  The explosion lasted three or four minutes and spread fear and terror among us. It seemed that this was a signal for starting fires to destroy the city. At first, the fire was restricted to the area where [the explosion] had occurred but a few minutes later we saw flames rising in various parts of the city. Soon we could count eighteen seats of fire, then more. We were all stricken dumb with amazement, looking at each other and seemingly sharing the same thought. Staff Captain V. Reinhardt finally gave voice to this general feeling, ‘This is an ominous sign, one that puts an end to our hope of peace, the peace we all need so much!’32

  These explosions resulted from Russian efforts to destroy any remaining military ammunition and other resources, a process that both Kutuzov and Rostopchin encouraged. A month after the conflagration Kutuzov told Napoleon’s envoy that he had ‘ordered the destruction of some magazines’, while the subsequent investigation into the loss of state property noted that ‘the remaining barges that were to sail in the wake of artillery barges but had been delayed by them and therefore could not be saved from the enemy, had been burnt and sunk on the orders of the late Prince Kutuzov’.33 Rostopchin’s orders required police officials, led by Constable P. Voronenko, to destroy any remaining artillery and commissariat supplies that had been loaded on to barges but not removed in time. Voronenko’s report reveals that ‘at 5am on 14 September Rostopchin ordered me to go to the Wine Merchants’ Court [Vinnyi dvor] and Customs Office [Mytnyi dvor] and evacuate the state and private barges located near the Krasnyi hill and the Simonov Monastery; in the event of the enemy’s prompt entry into the city, I was instructed to destroy everything with fire, which I did in various places until 10 o’clock in the evening.’ Voronenko’s reference to the instructions ‘to destroy everything with fire’ is often cited out of context, creating the impression that he was directly ordered to destroy the city as a whole. But in fact the report refers to Rostopchin’s instructions to destroy military equipment and supplies so as to prevent their falling into enemy hands. Similarly, P. Kaptsevich, who commanded the 7th Infantry Division, reported that ‘two ammunition magazines were blown up on the orders of General Miloradovich, causing a horrendous explosion’.34 Sergei Glinka concurs that the explosions, at least those near the Simonov Monastery, were caused by Russian efforts to destroy barges loaded with commissariat supplies. This monastery alone contained over 8,500 puds of lead and almost 6,000 puds of
gunpowder, which could not be simply abandoned to the enemy.35

  Late at night the wind rose, carrying burning wreckage across the city and scattering it through the wood-built suburbs, where the conflagration began and rapidly spread. The young F. Becker, whose family resided near the Nikitskie Gates, was awoken late at night by his father, who ordered the family members to get dressed and leave the house at once. As he came out into the street, Becker was stunned by the ‘hellish vision of the entire right side of the Arbat consumed by flames … Trees on the boulevard were swaying from the powerful wind and it was impossible to see where the fire ended.’ The family chose to move northwards, away from the flames, and walked for most of the night before resting near the Red Gates. ‘We beheld a stunning view – the entire horizon, as far as the eye could see, had turned into a bright and fiery sea! The cupolas of the nearby churches appeared like some shadowy giants rising against this blazing background.’36

  Earlier that evening (14 September) Baron de Bausset and General Count Phillippe de Ségur had been sent to inspect the Kremlin.37 They reached the Kremlin at around 10pm, accompanied by employees of all the services so as to settle them in and prepare everything for Napoleon’s reception. ‘As on all these missions we had been unable to fetch our servants and carriages,’ Bausset recalled. ‘Ségur and I were obliged to spend the night fully clothed and stretched out on chairs or armchairs … Between midnight and one o’clock I noticed fairly bright glows, though they were some distance away. I went to the windows and saw flames leaping up in whichever direction I looked from the eminence of the Kremlin.’38 By then Paymaster B.-T. Duverger of the 1st Corps, resting in the western part of the city, had been abruptly awakened by ‘some lamentable cries’; running out of his quarters, he was stunned to see ‘the horizon entirely crimson, and the fire, moving in all directions, sounding like distant torrents’.39 Nearby Boulart’s artillery crew was surprised to see

  a fire, then a second one, then a third, closer and closer, followed by a new one. These diverse fires, whose propagation nothing arrested, spread so rapidly and prodigiously that even though they began in the part of the city furthest away from us, it was easy to read by their light. Before daybreak, the fire seemed to have consumed at least half a league from right to left … and burned in different shades of colour, from red to blue, depending on the materials it consumed. Black clouds of smoke rose above them, creating a horrific picture [and] reminding us of the fires of Troy and Rome. I was deeply affected by this sight, as was everyone else around me.40

  Anatole de Montesquiou-Fezensac was awakened late at night by the French painter with whom he had found lodgings, who informed him about the fires. ‘Just what I feared,’ the painter told him, pointing at the illuminated windowpanes. Looking out of the window, Montesquiou saw flames rising some distance away but tried to downplay their significance. ‘It is a misfortune common to warfare,’ he calmly commented, ‘Our soldiers are often careless.’41 Similarly, Fain recalled that, despite receiving reports of the initial fires, ‘we had attributed them to the carelessness of our soldiers’.42

  Despite Napoleon’s efforts, the Allied occupation of Moscow was almost immediately marred by plundering and abuses. Peter Chudimov, the archivist of the Mining Department, reported that almost as soon as the ‘French’ arrived at the Kremlin, they ‘came to my apartments with swords unsheathed and began breaking cabinets, drawer chests and coffers, taking clothing and money … depriving us of everything except for undershirts’. The soldiers broke down the doors of the archive rooms and tore through the leather-bound folios, scattering them all across the building; in the Proofing Section, which was responsible for the quality of items made of precious metals, all ‘state and factory coffers were broken into and their contents completely looted’.43

  The pillaging seems to have been an inevitable consequence: the municipal authorities were gone, a proper military administration had not yet been set up and the exasperated troops thirsted for loot. As one participant rightly noted, in these early hours ‘no precautions of any kind had been taken to curb the disorders’ unfolding in the city.44 Durosnel, whose ‘gendarmes were quite insufficient to cope’ with the disorder that began to break out, ‘asked the emperor for more troops, informing him that all the houses were full of stragglers and deserters’. Napoleon instructed him to direct his requests to Mortier, who was already concerned about losses and the fatigue of his troops, and saw no need to send them out so soon into a still unsecured town. By nightfall he had sent only ‘a meagre and insufficient number of troops to Durosnel’.45

  Despite orders to the contrary, the Allied soldiers began scouring nearby buildings for food and drink almost as soon as they reached the city. ‘We were told that no one, on any pretence whatever, was to absent himself,’ remembered Bourgogne. ‘An hour afterwards, however, the whole place was filled with everything we could want – wines of all kinds, liqueurs, preserved fruits and an enormous quantity of sweet cakes and flour, but no bread. We went into the houses on the Place asking for food and drink, but as we found no one in them we helped ourselves.’46 Similarly, Baron de Bourgoing, whose division was halted on the outskirts of the city, saw how ‘soldiers penetrated into every building in the neighbourhood and brought back boards, furniture, carpets, creating a makeshift camp’. Among the items the soldiers brought were large wooden crates from a soap factory, which they arranged to create small shelters for the night.47 Sergeant Scheltens, who had been billeted with twelve Guard Fusiliers-Grenadiers and two corporals under his command ‘at a Frenchman’s house in the Kaluga suburb’, had no qualms about letting his men ‘go out marauding and bringing back all kinds of foodstuffs, lots of wine and Champagne, a great deal of flour and sugar, and, above all, excellent beer. They wanted for nothing, they even had mattresses to sleep on, true luxury for men who over the years had come to appreciate the value of a good bed.’48 A mile away from them, Pion des Loches, in charge of an artillery company that was unable to find any lodgings near the Kremlin, decided to occupy an open place on ‘the road from the Kremlin to the Petrovskii palace’, probably on Tverskaya street near the Strastnoi Monastery. He formed up his unit in a square, with guns at the corners and men and horses in the centre. ‘I forbade the troops to separate and, having dismounted, I dispatched my lieutenants with some cannoneers into the neighbouring streets in search of provisions …’ However, they found ‘doors shut and barricaded everywhere. It was necessary to break them down. In an instant the pillage began, and it was doubtless the same throughout the rest of the city.’49

  In the late afternoon of 14 September Kicheyev’s family, hoping to escape from the city, encountered two Allied soldiers, who were probably among the first men from Eugène’s 4th Corps to enter the city from the northwest. The soldiers – one of them a ‘young man of dashing appearance, holding no weapons but a sabre and looking like a cavalry officer’ – stopped the family and searched both the dray and the people to see if they had any useful items. Compelled to return home, Kicheyev’s family was disturbed at midnight by a group of German soldiers demanding to be fed; they carried with them silverware plundered from nearby churches.

  And the disorder only intensified as night shrouded the city.50 With so many buildings left empty, there was nobody to guard them against plunder and fire, whether set deliberately or accidental. As the fires broke out, many Allied officers and soldiers encamped outside the city became convinced that Moscow was lost and it was vitally necessary to replenish their nearly empty supplies while they could. Thus officers often permitted, or simply ignored, the entry of their own men into the city. ‘All entry into the city had been forbidden,’ recalled Colonel Montesquiou-Fezensac of the 4th Line, ‘but as the pillage of the city had commenced, and with [our own resources running out] it was clear that those who came last would die of hunger. I agreed then, with the Colonel [Pelleport] of the 18th Line, that we would tacitly allow our men to take their part in the plunder. After all, it was only with great difficult
y that they succeeded in procuring anything.’51 Similarly, General Bruyères, who encountered a couple of soldiers inside the city in defiance of the imperial order, simply ignored their transgression and told them ‘to go and have some fun in Moscow, if you can’.52

  The night saw such widespread pillaging that some Allied participants thought the city was being sacked, and rumours of what was transpiring in the city prompted many of the troops deployed outside the city to enter Moscow in search of prizes. Some heard about it from ‘Polish lancers who had just come through the city and informed us that it was being put to the sack. This news was confirmed by some of our men who had been sent in to collect food and had come back well stocked with tea, rum, sugar, wines and precious objects of all kinds. From then on there was no restraining the soldiers. All who were not actually on duty, disappeared … Men sent to collect wood or straw, and even men sent out on patrol, never came back.’53 Artillery Colonel Michel Combe was among those who chose to defy the imperial orders, and, accompanied by a friend, he ventured into the city. After wandering in the desolate streets, he finally approached ‘a beautiful house where loud voices and laughter could be heard’. The door into the house was broken down and the cellar windows were brightly lit. Entering the cellar, Combe found himself inside a vaulted edifice, brightly lit by torches, where French ‘artillerymen, who had already consumed copious libations, were singing loudly’. They had cause to cheer since they had hit upon a veritable treasure: a vast cellar with wines from the ‘best French vineyards that thrilled us and vividly reminded us of our homeland’.54 Less cheerful were the men of the 4th Line, who had been bivouacked outside Moscow and had to sneak into the city to procure victuals. ‘In returning, they had to cross the camp of the 1st Corps, which was pitched immediately in front of our own, and could only keep their booty by a fight with these, or with the Imperial Guard, who wanted to carry off everything.’55