Moscow: A Story of the French Invasion of 1812

During these first few days of the French occupation Moscow became a very pandemonium of pillage and violence, of smoke and fire, of orgies and of cruelties too horrible to relate. The churches and cathedrals were robbed and desecrated without distinction. Marshal Davoust could find no more appropriate place for his bedroom than the sanctuary, the very "Holy of Holies" of a cathedral, wherein he slept, guarded by a sentinel at each of the two royal doors which gave entrance to this hallowed spot. Horses were stabled in the churches. Furnaces and melting-pots were to be seen outside each of Moscow's most venerable cathedrals, where gold and silver vessels, the frames of costly ikons, ornaments, even the golden decorations of the vestments of the priests were melted down and fought over.

Soldiers on "leave of absence," which meant that they had received, each in turn, licence for a season of plundering, spent every hour of their leisure in pillage and violence, declaring—if interfered with—that the Emperor had promised them the treasures of Moscow.

The fires, meanwhile, raged on almost unnoticed. They broke out first close to the Foundling Hospital, then the Gostinnoy Dvor, the great market of the city, blazed up, and smoke rose almost simultaneously from a dozen different quarters. After two or three days a marshal was told off by Napoleon to quell the conflagration, but it was a week before Mortier's efforts produced any effect upon the flames. The Kitai Gorod was a sea of flames and the Kremlin itself was in danger; the Church of the Trinity caught fire and had to be destroyed by Napoleon's guard. The Emperor fled to the Palace of Petrofsky, accompanied by his staff, by the King of Naples and several marshals.

Napoleon at this time grew nervous and irritable. He sent repeated messages to the Tsar Alexander professing the warmest personal regard and his willingness to conclude terms of peace, but the Tsar treated his overtures with silent contempt.

Many of the inhabitants of Moscow, those who had remained behind at the general exodus, preferring to live in the suburban quarters or to hide in cellars rather than abandon altogether their beloved city, by this time scarcely dared venture into the streets; for Napoleon's soldiers, having finished looting the houses and churches, had now turned their particular attention to robbery of the person. Men and women were held up and robbed in the open streets.

Vera, engaged from time to time upon the work of the patriotic league to which she belonged, was obliged to walk hither and thither, even in the streets most infested by French soldiers. For the first few days she had not been actually interfered with, a circumstance for which she was indebted partly to her aristocratic appearance and partly to her knowledge of the French language.

But there arrived a day when her immunity came to an end. During the morning her cousin D'Estreville called. He had overtaken his regiment at the gates of Moscow, following the main army as soon as he was able to ride. He was looking pale and worn, a shadow of his former self, and having discovered Vera's address he lost no time in paying her a visit, though he scarcely expected to find her in Moscow.

Vera was overjoyed to see him alive.

"I thought I saw your regiment march in, and even fancied that I made you out among the rest," she said, "though you were scarcely recognisable. You have been wounded or ill—which?"

Henri gave an account of his mishap. Then he asked why Vera had remained in the deserted city—a question to which she gave an evasive answer. Lastly he inquired whether she had seen Paul. Vera blushed.

"Oblige me, dear Henri, by mentioning his name no more," she said; "I have seen him, yes. He came to our portion of the town in search of some lady friends attached to the French theatrical company which existed here before the occupation. I—I think I was mistaken in Monsieur de Tourelle, Henri. At any rate I do not wish to see him or to speak to him again."

Henri whistled. "If your dislike to him is patriotic," he laughed, "I suppose I too am not a welcome visitor."

"Well, to be truthful, now I am assured of your safety, I would rather forget we are cousins until after the war," said Vera. Henri laughed.

"You don't know what the occupation of Moscow means for us Russians," she added. "Your people have defiled and robbed our holy places, destroyed our homes, ruined and wasted our country at the whim of a vile man who will reap no benefit from his wickedness. What does he propose to do, think you, mon ami? Because Moscow is occupied, do you suppose we Russians are done with?"

"It is only the beginning of our advance, ma cousine; do not flatter yourself with false hopes. If Moscow grows too hot for us, we shall march to St. Petersburg and Napoleon shall be crowned Tsar at St. Isaac's."

"We shall not agree, my friend. For the rest, do not visit me here—it is better not. If we were to argue constantly, I should soon forget that the same blood flows in our veins and I should learn to hate you as at this moment I hate every Frenchman."

Nevertheless the cousins parted friends, though Henri quite agreed that at present it would be better if they did not meet.

Vera walked in the outskirts of the city one afternoon, glad of the calls of some duty which justified the risk of venturing into the fresh air, when she observed a notable episode. An old Russian priest, one of the staff of the Cathedral of the Assumption, driven out of his senses by the persecutions and desecrations which he had witnessed in his beloved city and church, marched alone through the streets carrying a large ikon in his arms and shouting aloud denunciations and menaces against the disturbers of the peace of Holy Russia.

"Thy Holy Temple," he raved, "have they defiled and made Jerusalem a heap of stones—slay them, oh Lord, and scatter them! Shall Thy enemies triumph for ever?" And again:—

"The time shall come when every man who slayeth one of them shall believe that he doeth God service!"

Up the road came half a dozen rowdy French soldiers "on leave of absence". They stood and listened to the priest's raving for a moment, understanding nothing; then one knocked the old man down with a buffet, rolling him in the mud, while the ikon fell to the ground. Instantly there was a rowdy battle for possession of the image, which was quickly pulled in pieces, each piece being carefully scrutinised for precious stones or metal.

"Bah! we might have spared ourselves the trouble—it is brass—the whole thing is not worth fifty centimes!" exclaimed one man, looking angrily at the old priest, sitting dazed and bruised in the mud, mumbling and holding his head.

"How dare you carry a brass ikon, deluding honest persons into the belief that it is a thing of value?" asked another soldier; he kicked the old man viciously; the priest gave a howl of pain. This was more than Vera could stand.

"Miserables!" she exclaimed, "are you not ashamed of attacking an old man, and a priest? A curse will fall upon such as you."

"Let it fall, ma mie; see, mes enfants," the fellow continued, "what I have found—a French woman and a pretty one—are you one of the French actresses, chérie?" The soldier leered and tried to put his arm about her waist. Vera angrily pushed him away.

"Come, come, come!" said the fellow, who was half drunk, "you must not look crossly upon your compatriots—you and I are both good French people, let us be happy together."

"Thank God I am a Russian," said Vera. "If you touch me again you shall find that I can sting!"

"A Russian? Oho! Listen, mes enfants, she is a Russian! Then, chérie, you shall give us each six roubles and six kisses—see, I have spoken, it is an edict! Is it not so, my friends?"

The men crowded round Vera, whose heart sank a little. She placed her back against the wall of the house, however, close to which she stood, and felt within the folds of her mantle for the pistol, without which and a sharp dagger she never left the house at this time.

"See," she cried, "I said that I could sting—who will offer to touch me now. I swear that I will shoot if–"

One of the men by a sudden movement knocked the pistol from her hand; a second later he had his arms about her neck and was in the act of drawing the girl close to him. Suddenly he recoiled with an oath, pale, scowling, grabbing at the upper part of his left arm. Vera laughed.

"I told you I should sting!" she said.

"The little devil has stabbed me!" exclaimed the man, whose sleeve was covered with blood where it had touched his shoulder. "You little serpent, for this–" The laughter of his comrades drowned the rest of his threat.

Two French sub-officers now suddenly appeared upon the scene, one of them knocked the threatener aside.

"Stop it, canaille!" he cried. "Have you not read the placards of the Emperor? The inhabitants are no longer to be robbed and ravaged; they have suffered enough."

"Placards or no placards, Emperor or no Emperor, and corporals or no corporals," shouted the principal offender, "I shall not bear this affront, my friend! Brothers, we will have our roubles and our kisses. Hold this little fool while I exact my own share; then each shall have his turn!"

But the two sergeants placed themselves between Vera and her persecutors. One picked up her pistol and handed it to her. The young Frenchman who had first spoken drew his sword.

"Mes enfants," he said, "I recommend you to disappear. Three of you I know by name—let them go first—Rénet, Judic and Meyer; go, my friends, if you are wise. These others I shall deal with."

The three men named quickly disappeared. It was true that the Emperor had—none too soon—placarded the city with stringent orders that the reign of bloodshed and violence should cease, under severe penalties. The other three men, after preserving their threatening attitude for a few moments, began to look over their shoulders in the direction taken by their retreating comrades; presently with a muttered curse or two and many scowls they turned and followed them.

CHAPTER XXI

Vera now had leisure to examine her protectors more closely; one was a dapper little corporal who made eyes at her as she looked at him. She quickly withdrew her gaze and fixed it upon the other, a handsome, dark-eyed and eyelashed sergeant of a line regiment. This man had been the spokesman. Vera started slightly as she looked at him.

"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed, "what an extraordinary likeness! I beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur; it is very rude of me; my first expression should have been one of grateful thanks. You have preserved me, Monsieur, from persecution, I am indeed grateful."

The young sergeant bowed.

"Mademoiselle does us too much honour," he replied. "Rochefort, mon cher, if you will excuse me, I will see this lady to her home, it is not right that you should walk alone in the city, Mademoiselle, at present." The little corporal made a grimace.

"Rascal!" he whispered, "you always come in for the good things!" He took his departure, however, after bestowing upon Vera his most fascinating smile together with a low bow and a ferocious wink of the left eye.

Vera gazed at her companion, examining him from head to foot as he watched his comrade depart. The sergeant turned when he had seen the other safely to the end of the street.

"I see," said Vera, "that it is to an old acquaintance that I am indebted for this great service. I thank you heartily. But is the French Emperor so badly off for men to march against our poor Russia that he must needs enrol women as soldiers, Mademoiselle Louise?"

The sergeant blushed scarlet. "For God's sake be careful of your words, Mademoiselle," he said. "Of course it is unknown that I am I. You are the first who has guessed it. I entreat you to keep my secret."

"That of course. In Heaven's name, why have you done it? May I know this?"

"It is easily told, Mademoiselle, to you, who I do not doubt will appreciate my motives and forgive me." Louise narrated to her companion the story of the conscription, of young Havet's trouble and her sister Marie's; "therefore I became his substitute," she ended, "et voilà tout!"

"Is it really all, Mademoiselle Louise?" said Vera. "I confess that I fancied there might be another motive for your conduct." Louise walked silently for a little while.

"It is true that I love him," she murmured at length; "yes, Mademoiselle, with all my heart of hearts. I could not bear to be so far from him."

Vera laughed. "Mon Dieu, Louise, you are a wonderful person! It is sad, however, that you should have staked your happiness upon my cousin, who is–"

"Not dead, Mademoiselle—for God's sake dare not to tell me he is dead?"

"Dead? Oh no, not that, I saw him but yesterday and spoke to him."

"You did, Mademoiselle—here, in Moscow? Oh, thank God—thank God! Mademoiselle, I have been in terror and tribulation about him; I left him near Smolensk, badly wounded in the shoulder, I was driven from him to join the colours and knew not whether he lived or died."

"Yes, he lives and is well, though he looks like a dead man or near it. So he knows you are with the army. Beware, Louise, you are playing a dangerous game. My cousin will not respect one who thus follows him and avows her love. Moreover, your conduct–"

"Mademoiselle—pardon—he does not know it. Thank God, I am more modest than you suppose! Also he has avowed his love for me—he did so before leaving Paris; still, I have not revealed myself, lest he should disapprove of my action. I am not—not the kind that Mademoiselle supposes."

"Forgive me, Louise; I meant my warning to be very friendly. I am rejoiced to hear what you have said. As to his vows of love, however, do not trust him too much. I know my cousin so well. He has loved many times."

"Mademoiselle, I also know this, and more besides. At Smolensk, as he lay tossing in fever, a wonderful thing happened; not knowing that I was I, the Baron narrated to me many of his past love affairs, declaring at the last that he remembered only one of those for whom he had felt affection, and that one was, said he, the daughter of Pierre Dupré, maître d'armes; imagine, Mademoiselle, my happiness to hear this from him, and to receive a message from his lips to be carried to this Louise Dupré in case of his death."

Louise was flushed and her eyes were bright with love-light. Vera looked at her companion and laughed merrily.

"I certainly think it the most promising of Henri's love affairs that I have yet heard of," she said; "if I see Henri again–"

"Oh, Mademoiselle, for Heaven's sake keep my secret; what would he think—he might say angry words—he might–"

"No, no, your secret is safe; I was going to say—I will ask him to tell me of his sickness at Smolensk; perhaps he will confide to me the tale you have just told me; that would prove that he did not suspect you to be yourself."

"Oh, Mademoiselle, I am sure he did not, or he would not have told me all that he did of—of other matters," Louise blushed; and Vera laughed and said that perhaps that was so.

"At any rate I should keep your secret," she added, "even if I saw my cousin again, which is unlikely. I cannot associate, you see, with Russia's enemies, even though they be personal friends or near relations. There are those who would blame me much for walking with yourself in this way, if they were to see us together. We must not meet again in Moscow. I see you have had promotion; you wear a sergeant's stripes; doubtless for some service done to your Emperor at the expense of my poor country."

"At Borodino; the service was small enough and not worth narrating. I have learnt, Mademoiselle, that war is detestable, and the taking of life a most terrible thing; I shall shed no more blood, if I can help it."

"This is the most unjust and infernal of wars," said Vera; "all wars are abominable, but this is the worst and wickedest. Farewell, Louise, and thank you for your timely service; this is my street and that is my house. I hope that some day, if happier times should come, we may perhaps be cousins."

"Oh, Mademoiselle, may that day dawn indeed—and soon!" Louise raised Vera's hand to her lips and departed with a salute.

Unfortunately Sasha Maximof, looking out from a window for Vera's return, saw this little demonstration, and the sight depressed and angered him.

"I see," he said, as Vera entered, "that you have discovered another acquaintance among the French, and, as it seems, another admirer."

"Ah, in this case the admiration is truly mutual," Vera replied gravely, though with a twinkle in her eye. "Do you know, Sasha, mon ami, that though, speaking generally, I hate all French soldiers, at this time, I am so greatly indebted to this one and love him so well–"

"Love him?" Sasha echoed miserably. "Oh! then this is the one."

"Yes, this is the one; our friendship is great, but perhaps one day it will be greater; he has this day avowed to me–" Vera paused. Sasha continued her sentence—"His passion, I suppose. You have not accepted him, Vera—a Frenchman? Did you not tell me you would only marry a Russian?"

"Did I? I had forgotten. Well, we shall see. What was I saying?—Oh, this dear, adorable soldier. He has avowed to me, mon ami, that he hopes one day to become a near relation."

"Vera!" gasped Sasha, "are you mocking me?"

"On the contrary, I am confiding to you a great secret which I forbid you to disclose to any living soul. This dear Frenchman, who has this day done me a great service of which I will tell you presently and for which I should like to show my gratitude in a fervent kiss–"

"Vera!" Sasha gasped.

"Do not interrupt me, mon ami; this dear Frenchman is, in fact, not a Frenchman nor a Russian; he is not, indeed, a man of any nationality whatever—but a woman masquerading as a man, and all for love of my cousin Henri d'Estreville. Think of it!"

Vera exploded in a fit of merry laughter, to which the expression in Sasha's face soon added an extra note of mirth. The laughing did her good, for indeed there had been little of late to promote mirth in this unhappy city of Moscow.

Afterwards there were explanations and apologies, and if Sasha Maximof contrived to gather another grain of encouragement for his hopes, this was not more, perhaps, than was intended.

CHAPTER XXII

Destiny soon made it impossible that Vera Demidof should meet again either her cousin D'Estreville or Louise Dupré, for both presently left Moscow with their regiments in order to engage the armies of Kootoozof without the city walls, for the doings of the Russian Commander-in-Chief rendered Napoleon anxious and disquieted.

Moscow was becoming uninhabitable, for food was scarce and the Russian forces were so strategically disposed as to cut off the city from communication with the grain- and meat-producing provinces. Moreover, though the weather was still moderately warm, the frost would begin in a month or so, and under wintry conditions life in this latitude would become unpleasant if not impossible.

Napoleon's state of mind at this time, as evidenced by his appearance and conduct, has been described by a Russian eye-witness as unnerved and anxious. He walked with a quick, uneven tread, having abandoned his usual calm and regular movements. He looked constantly about him, fidgetted continually, frowned, tweaked his nose and stood to think, dragged his gloves on and off again, or took one out of his pocket and rolled it into a ball and, still in deep thought, put it into the other pocket, repeating the process many times. Meanwhile the generals standing behind him stood like statues, not daring to move. He grew irritable and performed many acts of needless and wanton cruelty. He issued numerous "bulletins" to his army, full of elusive promises and rose-coloured announcements of his "intentions". He made foolish speeches upon the subject of Peter the Great, courted the Tartars, but failed to convince them, issued proclamations to the Russian people, pointing out the advantages of rebellion, to all of which the sturdy Russians remained blind, and up to the last moment concealed his intention of abandoning Moscow.

This abandonment of the old city took place, as all the world knows, in October, and was preceded by an abortive attempt to blow up the Kremlin. The attempt was entrusted to Marshal Mortier, who—whether designedly or by miscalculation—entirely failed in his object, though he used nearly one hundred tons of explosives in mining the palaces and cathedrals and outer walls of the historic fortress.

The French soldiers indulged in a final and universal campaign of outrage and robbery just before quitting the city, and this time Vera was obliged to abandon her house, which was pillaged like the rest, and to fly for her life. Sasha Maximof had before this been recalled to his duties with his regiment, and had left Vera with a sore heart, having failed to persuade her to leave Moscow and go to St. Petersburg where she would find most of her friends and relatives.

"I shall wait to see the end of the drama," Vera said, "unless I am menaced with serious danger. So far, I have run but little risk."

The behaviour of the French troops at the end of their month in Moscow seems to have been almost more ruffianly than at the beginning. Houses and property of all sorts were ruthlessly destroyed, both within the city and in the suburbs. Occasionally they would come upon notices nailed to the outer gates of some boyar's residence, setting forth that rather than abandon his property to be desecrated by French hands the owner had himself destroyed every atom that he had been unable to remove. Here is an example: a letter affixed to the gate of his palace by no less a person than Rostopchin, Governor of Moscow, who thus addressed those who approached his home, intent upon looting and destruction:—

"For eight years I found my pleasure in embellishing this country retreat. I lived here in perfect happiness, within the bosom of my family; and those around me largely partook of my felicity. But you approach and lo! the peasantry of this domain, to the number of 1,720 human beings, have fled far away. As for my house, it is burnt to the ground! We abandon all, we consume all, that neither ourselves nor our habitations may be polluted by your presence.

"Frenchmen, I left at the mercy of your avarice two of my houses in Moscow full of furniture and valuables to the amount of half a million of roubles. Here, you will find nothing but ashes.

"(Signed) Fedor, Count Rostopchin."

No sooner did the news reach the Russian Commander-in-Chief, old Kootoozof, that Moscow had been abandoned by the invaders, than he issued the following address to his army and the Empire generally:—

"Order Issued to the Armies, 31st October

"The following Declaration is given for the Instruction of all the Troops under my Command:—

"At the moment in which the enemy entered Moscow he beheld the destruction of those preposterous hopes by which he had been flattered; he expected to find there Plenty and Peace, and on the contrary he saw himself devoid of every necessary of life. Harassed by the fatigue of continued marches; exhausted for want of provisions; wearied and tormented by ever active soldiers who intercept his slender reinforcements; losing, without the honour of battle, thousands of his troops, cut off by our provincial detachments, he found no prospect before him but the vengeance of an armed nation, threatening annihilation to the whole of his army. In every Russian he beheld a hero, equally disdainful and abhorrent of his deceitful promises; in every state of the empire he met an additional and insurmountable rampart opposed to his strongest efforts. After sustaining incalculable losses by the attacks of our brave troops, he recognised at last the madness of his expectations, that the foundations of the empire would be shaken by his occupation of Moscow. Nothing remained for him but a precipitate flight; the resolution was no sooner taken than it was executed; he has departed, abandoning nearly the whole of his sick to the mercy of an outraged people, and leaving Moscow on the 11th of this month completely evacuated.

"The horrible excesses which he committed while in that city are already well known, and have left an inexhaustible sentiment of vengeance in the depths of every Russian heart; but I have to add, that his impotent rage exercised itself in the savage attempt to destroy a part of the Kremlin, where, however, by a signal interposition of Divine Providence, the sacred temples and cathedrals have been saved.