1812: Napoleon’s Fatal March on Moscow. Adam Zamoyski
us will grow tired first – I of making my army live at the expense of Russia, or Alexander of nourishing my army at the expense of his country. I may well myself go and spend the harshest months of the winter in Paris.’ And if Alexander did not sue for peace that year, Napoleon would mount another campaign in 1813 into the heart of the empire. ‘It is, as I have already told you, only a question of time,’ he assured Metternich.5
He seemed to produce a different plan for every interlocutor. ‘If I invade Russia, I will perhaps go as far as Moscow,’ he wrote in his instructions to one of his diplomats. ‘One or two battles will open the road for me. Moscow is the real capital of the empire. Having seized that, I will find peace there.’ He added that if the war were to drag on, he would leave the job to the Poles, reinforced by 50,000 French and a large subsidy.6
He still refused to see Alexander as an enemy to be defeated, thinking of him rather as a wayward ally. Had it not been so, he would have declared the restoration of the Kingdom of Poland with its 1772 frontiers, thereby launching a national insurrection in the rear of the Russian armies. He could also have proclaimed the liberation of the serfs in Russia, which would have ignited unrest all over the country. This would have reduced the Russian empire to such a state of chaos that Alexander would have been in no position to mount a serious defence and Napoleon could have marched his troops about the country as he chose. But he wanted to bring Alexander back to heel with as little unpleasantness as possible and a minimum of damage. ‘I will make war on Alexander in all courtesy, with two thousand guns and 500,000 soldiers, without starting an insurrection,’ he had said to Narbonne back in March.7
Narbonne and Maret repeatedly put the case for creating a strong Polish state which would become a French satellite and a bulwark against Russian expansion. Napoleon did not rule this out. He did have to keep the Poles on his side, and he needed to prime, even if he did not need to fire it, the weapon of Polish national insurrection in Russia. In a word, he had to manipulate and deceive the Poles. And in order to do this, he must send a clever man to Warsaw as an unofficial personal ambassador.8
He had originally selected Talleyrand for this purpose, but for a number of diplomatic reasons his choice now fell on the Abbé de Pradt, Archbishop of Malines, ‘a priest more ambitious than cunning, and more vain than ambitious’, as one contemporary described him. Pradt had made himself useful to Napoleon in the past, but he inspired neither confidence nor respect, and lacked the qualities necessary for the job in hand. He was described by one of the Poles with whom he would be working as ‘a nonentity, without a trace of dignity’ who loved intrigue and gave the impression that he despised Napoleon. But whether anyone else could have done a better job in the circumstances is another question. Napoleon made it clear that Pradt was to encourage the Poles to announce their intention of resurrecting a Polish state and to start a national insurrection, without committing himself or his imperial master to backing it up.9
Napoleon even gave some thought to the question of whom to put on the Polish throne if he did decide to restore the kingdom. It would be too important a place for the volatile Murat or the inexperienced Prince Eugène, both of whom believed themselves to be in line for the job. He did consider Marshal Davout, who was a good soldier and administrator, and popular with the Poles, but the example of Bernadotte raised questions as to his future loyalty. One of his brothers might be a better bet in the circumstances. ‘I’ll put Jérôme on it, I’ll create a fine kingdom for him,’ he told Caulaincourt, ‘but he must achieve something, for the Poles like glory.’ He duly put Jérôme in command of an army corps and directed him to Warsaw, where he was supposed to win the love of the Poles. Napoleon could hardly have made a worse choice.
Jérôme made a regal entry into the Polish capital and announced that he had come to spill his blood for the Polish cause in the spirit of the crusaders of old. The Poles found him overbearing and ridiculous, and it was not long before all sorts of malicious stories were circulating about him, including one that he took a bath in rum every morning and one in milk every evening. His army corps, composed of German troops, behaved abominably, as did its French commander General Vandamme, who demonstrated his contempt for the locals by, among other things, putting his muddy-booted and spurred feet up on fine silk upholstery as he lounged in Warsaw drawing rooms. The Poles longed to be rid of Jérôme and his unruly soldiers.
‘In truth, the king of Poland should have been Poniatowski,’ Napoleon admitted later, during his exile on St Helena. ‘He had every title to it and he had all the necessary talents.’ But at the time, the thought did not cross his mind, which was beset by more pressing considerations. 10
His armies were now reaching their prescribed positions, and he needed to take charge. So, after thirteen days in Dresden, where he had settled nothing, he climbed into his travelling carriage, a yellow coupé drawn by six horses. His mameluke Roustam climbed onto the box next to the coachman, and Berthier installed himself inside with Napoleon.
The vehicle was fashioned to suit his every need and fitted out to allow him to make the best use of his time. It could be turned into a makeshift study, with a tabletop equipped with inkwells, paper and quills, drawers for storing papers and maps, shelves for books, and a light by which he could read at night. It could also be turned into a couchette, with a mattress on which he could stretch out, a washbasin, mirrors and soap-holders so he could attend to his toilette and waste no time on arrival, and, naturally, a chamberpot.
One of the outriders from the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Guard noted that the Emperor took a long time over his farewells to Marie-Louise, and that there were tears in his eyes as he got into the carriage. But feelings of tenderness were quickly dispelled by unpleasant realities.11
Napoleon drove through Glogau in Silesia to the Polish city of Poznan, which he entered on horseback, riding under an arch inscribed with the words Heroi Invincibili. The whole town was illuminated and festooned with flags and garlands. He reviewed units of the Legion of the Vistula fresh from Spain, but was vexed at the sight of the recruits. ‘These people are too young,’ he complained to Marshal Mortier. ‘I want people capable of standing up to hardship; young people like this only fill up the hospitals.’ It was true. Teenagers made poor soldiers, not only because they were puny and prone to exhaustion and illness, but also because they could not stand up for themselves, and were easily bullied and pushed around, which led to demoralisation.12
After criticising the recruits he attended a ball in his honour at which he made a poor impression on the inhabitants, telling them he wanted to see them booted and spurred, not in dancing pumps. But it was not the attitude of the Poles that lay at the root of Napoleon’s displeasure. On his arrival in Poznan he had sat down with the head of the commissariat, Pierre Daru, to review the provisioning of his troops, only to discover severe shortcomings. Matters only got worse as he progressed on his journey. By the time he reached Torun, he was furious. He complained bitterly to General Mathieu Dumas, Intendant General in charge of supplies, that none of his orders had been carried out.13
The supply machine he had devoted so much time and thought to had never quite materialised. ‘The means of transport, whether supplied by the military teams belonging to the army or by auxiliary means, were almost everywhere insufficient,’ admitted Dumas. ‘This immense army, which crossed the Prussian lands like a torrent, consumed all the resources of the land, and supplies from the reserve could not follow it with enough speed.’ There was a shortage of draught horses from the outset, and the consequences grew serious as the army began massing in Poland.14
The troops had already been subjected to a rude awakening. For those who had not taken part in the 1807 campaign, there was an element of surprise at the exoticism and