Winter freeze that saw out Napoleon

IT WAS cold in Russia, that November of 1812. So cold that as the remnants of Napoleon's Grand Army began their desperate retreat from Moscow, the weather was their greatest foe - far more deadly than the three Russian armies in their pursuit.

General Count Philippe-Paul de Segur was an aide-de-camp in Napoleon's army - and even today, his account of the Grand Army's last days makes for harrowing reading.

"The storm drove into their faces both the snow that was falling from the sky and that which it raised from the ground," de Segur wrote. "The Russian winter... attacked them on all sides: it penetrated their light garments and their torn shoes and boots; their wet clothes froze upon their bodies; an icy envelope encased them and stiffened their limbs; a keen and violent wind broke their breathing.

"The unfortunate creatures still crawled on, shivering, till the snow... or the fragment of some broken article - a branch of a tree or the bodies of one of their comrades - caused them to stumble and fall. There they groaned in vain. The snow soon covered them. Small heaps marked the spot where they lay. The road was studded with these mounds."

It's a description that will be oddly familiar to anyone who has ever read Leo Tolstoy's epic novel, War And Peace. And there's probably a good reason for that, says York historian Chris Summerville. "It is more than likely that he read de Segur," he says. "A lot of the passages in Tolstoy bear more than a passing resemblance to the descriptions in de Segur - even the tone."

Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812 remains one of the greatest military and humanitarian disasters of all time. In six months, a million men lost their lives. Half were the men of Napoleon's Grand Army, the greatest ever assembled. Of the 500,000 men who marched into Russia in June anticipating an easy victory, 20,000 straggled to safety six months later. Half a million Russians also died.

The calamity marked the beginning of the end for Napoleon himself. In the space of a few short months, he went from being master of a continent to a fugitive.

No one was better placed than de Segur to tell the story of the catastrophe, says Chris. As aide-de-camp to Napoleon, he was right at the centre of things.

On publication in 1824, his book became an instant sensation. It was translated into every European language and even endorsed by Napoleon's great enemy, the Duke of Wellington.

Now Chris - one of those behind the popular The York Book - has distilled the two volumes of the original book into a single volume, and added his own introduction to each chapter, to bring the almost-forgotten work to a new audience.

The picture of Napoleon that emerges, he says, is one of a flawed genius - an enlightened dictator whose presence on a battlefield was, in Wellington's words, worth 10,000 men, but who was blinded to the calamity unfolding around him by the sycophancy of those closest to him.

When he set out for Russia in 1812 with his great army around him, he was at the height of his power, Chris says, like some "ageing rock star embarking on a farewell tour: overweight and out of condition; prone to tantrums and surrounded by sycophants; his self-belief bloated by sixteen years of success".

The invasion of Russia was intended to be Napoleon's last war, Chris says - an easy victory in which the Russians would cave in almost before it had begun.

But Napoleon, he says, made a fatal mistake by underestimating the Tsar, Alexander. "In the past, he had overawed Alexander," he says. "He even joked to Josephine that if Alexander were a woman, he would make him his mistress.

"What he didn't bargain with was the complete change in Alexander's personality. Alexander had had a conversion - he felt almost that he had a mission to rid the world of this dictator."

The result was that when they marched into Russia, the Grand Army became engaged in a long war of attrition for which they were simply not prepared.

The problems began swiftly: but the sycophants in Napoleon's entourage were too scared to alert him to the danger.

"Quite early on in the campaign, Napoleon heard a rumour that the troops were starving, and he could not believe it," Chris says. "The general in charge of supplies was too scared to tell the truth, and said the casualties were due to drunkenness."

So the bloated, ill-prepared army continued its march. With every town it took, Chris says, Napoleon expected the Russians to crumble. They never did - and the Emperor's army was gradually drawn all the way to Moscow.

It was a sickeningly hot summer, leading to disease which, combined with malnutrition, took a heavy toll on Napoleon's troops. Then came that long retreat through the bitter winter. The climate, lack of food, suicides, drowning as the exhausted troops crossed river after river, and butchery by vengeful Russian peasants all took their toll: more so than Alexander's pursuing armies, who were suffering equally from the harsh weather.

Napoleon, Chris says, has been criticised for sleepwalking his way through the horrors of the retreat, unaware of the sufferings of his soldiers.

But the reality may have been different. De Segur offers a glimpse into the dictator's private anguish. "He describes Napoleon in private, weeping for his men, asking, 'How can I support these men, find them food, find them shelter?'," says Chris.

He believes the Emperor had to remain confident in public for the sake of his men, who clung to him all the more the more desperate their situation became.

"Even if Napoleon did know the suffering of his men, what good would it have done for him to break down in public?" Chris asks. "It wouldn't have done any good at all. They would only have lost faith. He could never afford to show how much of a mistake he had made. He had to tough it out to the end."

Updated: 08:42 Wednesday, March 12, 2003