drive off the enemy forces guarding Napoleon’s communications. In Chichagov’s case this meant Prince’s Schwarzenberg’s Austrians and General Reynier’s Saxon corps, which were to be thrust back into the Duchy of Warsaw. Alexander wrote to Kutuzov that ‘as you will see from this plan, it is proposed that the main operations will be carried out by Admiral Chichagov’s army’, which would be reinforced both by Tormasov’s Third Army and by a small corps commanded by Lieutenant-General Friedrich Oertel, currently guarding the supply base at Mozyr.
Nevertheless, Peter Wittgenstein’s role was also crucial. Aided by Count Steinhel, he was to advance southwards, take Polotsk, and drive the defeated corps of Oudinot and Saint-Cyr north-westwards into Lithuania and away from Napoleon’s line of retreat across Belorussia. As a result, the combined forces of Chichagov and Wittgenstein would control the whole area through which Napoleon’s main army would have to retreat, with Kutuzov’s forces in close pursuit. The enemy was already ‘exhausted’, having been drawn deep into Russia and having suffered heavy losses. It now faced still heavier losses and a very difficult retreat. If the plan was properly executed, ‘not even the smallest part of the main enemy army…can escape over our borders without defeat and ultimately total annihilation’.2
The key figure behind the plan was Alexander himself, though no doubt he discussed it with young Colonel Chernyshev and other more senior military figures in his entourage, including Petr Mikhailovich Volkonsky. To some extent this new plan inherited aspects of pre-war thinking about military operations. Drawn forward deep into Russia and then blocked by the main Russian army, Napoleon was to be defeated by other Russian armies thrusting far into his flanks and rear. In broad outline Alexander’s plan made sense and was the best way to deploy Russian forces in this theatre of operations and exploit Napoleon’s mistakes.
The emperor’s plan was, however, very ambitious. A number of armies initially hundreds of kilometres apart were expected to coordinate their operations and arrive simultaneously in central Belorussia. Communications between these armies would be difficult. To the mud, snow and cold which impeded all movements in a Russian autumn and winter one needed to add the fact that Wittgenstein and Chichagov were separated by a swath of land in which no less than five full enemy corps and a number of smaller detachments were operating. At the very moment when Alexander was sending Chernyshev to Kutuzov, an additional 36,000 French reinforcements under Marshal Victor were entering Belorussia from the west. They reached Minsk on 15 September and Smolensk twelve days later.
Alexander’s plan assumed that his armies would defeat all these enemy forces and drive them out of Belorussia, though at the time he was concocting his plan the Russians were not yet numerically superior to their foes. Advancing into Belorussia in the middle of winter the Russian columns would certainly suffer heavy losses from sickness and exhaustion. Alexander instructed Wittgenstein and Chichagov to fortify the defiles and obstacles through which Napoleon’s army would have to retreat, but would they have the time or the manpower to do this? As the emperor himself acknowledged, the enemy could head for Minsk or Vilna and had the choice of at least three highways down which to make his escape. In the event, Alexander’s plan about two-thirds succeeded, which was more than one might have expected in the circumstances. In the second half of November, however, as Napoleon approached the river Berezina it appeared briefly as if the plan might succeed completely and might result in the total destruction of the French army and even in the capture of Napoleon himself. Because this did not happen, Russian accounts of the autumn campaign have always tended to combine triumph at the French debacle with regret that it was not even more complete.
Chernyshev himself had to do a big detour to the east of Moscow before finally reaching Kutuzov’s headquarters south of the city on 20 September. There he had discussions with Kutuzov and Bennigsen which showed his intimate knowledge of Alexander’s thinking and filled in many of the gaps in the emperor’s written proposals. On 22 September Chernyshev reported to Alexander that he had shown the necessary tact in urging the emperor’s ideas on the commander-in-chief and that both Kutuzov and Bennigsen had warmly endorsed the plan. He added that the fall of Moscow had not fundamentally changed ‘the enemy’s poor situation’ and that Napoleon would not be able to sustain himself in the Moscow region for long. There was every chance of destroying him ‘so long as the people here don’t again make serious mistakes before our armies have united in his rear’.3
Immediately afterwards Chernyshev set off for Chichagov’s headquarters in north-west Ukraine in order to inform the admiral of Alexander’s plan. In the autumn and winter of 1812 the dashing young colonel was to add to the laurels he had won in Paris and fully to justify Alexander’s confidence. In mid-October he led a large partisan raiding party of seven regular light cavalry squadrons, three Cossack regiments and one Kalmyk unit deep into the Duchy of Warsaw, destroying magazines, disrupting conscription and forcing Schwarzenberg to divert much of the Austrian cavalry back to the Duchy in order to track him down. Subsequently, Chernyshev took a Cossack regiment right through the French rear and linked up with Wittgenstein, bringing the latter his first clear sense of Chichagov’s movements and intentions. By happy accident, during this journey Chernyshev liberated Ferdinand Winzengerode and his aide-de-camp, Captain Lev Naryshkin, who had been captured in Moscow and were en route back to France. Since Winzengerode was one of Alexander’s favourite generals and Naryshkin was the son of the emperor’s mistress this was a great coup for Chernyshev. Wittgenstein praised Chernyshev’s achievements in glowing terms and Alexander promoted his 26-year-old aide-de-camp to the rank of major-general.4
While Chernyshev was carrying Alexander’s plans for a counter-offensive first to Kutuzov and then to Chichagov, a vicious ‘people’s war’, reminiscent of events in Spain, had spread across the Moscow region. Eugen of Wurttemberg wrote that the Russian peasants, usually so friendly, hospitable and patient, had been turned into ‘veritable tigers’ by the depredations of French foraging parties and marauders. Sir Robert Wilson recalls that enemy soldiers who fell into the peasants’ hands suffered ‘every imaginable previous mode of torture’. The narratives of torture, mutilation and burial alive might be put down to foreign prejudice, were they not confirmed by many Russian sources too. In military terms the main significance of this ‘people’s war’ was that it made it even more difficult for the French to forage. Any large and static army had trouble feeding its horses in this era. Napoleon’s cavalry had suffered badly at Borodino, but it was the weeks spent in Moscow with ever-diminishing supplies of forage that destroyed most of his mounted regiments and devastated his artillery horses. Foraging expeditions had to travel ever greater distances with larger and larger escorts. Even so they often returned empty-handed, having lost men to ambushes and exhausted their horses without reward.5
In the classic style of guerrilla war, the peasants and the army’s partisan units helped each other. The partisan commanders often distributed arms to the peasantry and came to their assistance when large enemy requisition parties were spotted. The peasants in turn provided the intelligence, local guides and extra manpower which enabled the cavalry to track down and ambush enemy detachments and to evade capture by superior forces. Partisan units operated along all the roads leading out from Moscow. Already by mid-October they were willing to take on quite large enemy detachments. On 20 October, for example, Denis Davydov’s partisans attacked an enemy transport column near Viazma which was escorted by no less than three regiments, capturing most of the wagons and five hundred men. During the weeks that Napoleon spent in Moscow his communications with Smolensk and Paris were harried but never cut. Had he chosen to spend the winter in the city, however, it would have been a very different matter.6
Denis Davydov was one of the first partisans, having persuaded a doubtful Kutuzov on the eve of Borodino to detach him with a small band of cavalry and Cossacks to raid enemy communications. Davydov’s success in the following weeks won him reinforcements and helped to legitimize the whole idea of partisan warfare, which was new to Russian generals. Karl von Toll in particular urged this new form of war on Kutuzov and the commander-in- chief quickly grasped its potential. Davydov captured or destroyed enemy supply columns, routed detachments sent to gather food, liberated many hundreds of Russian prisoners of war and gathered useful intelligence. He also punished traitors and collaborators, whom he describes as a very small minority. Davydov’s weapons were speed, surprise, daring and excellent local sources of information. His bands struck out of nowhere, dispersed and then regrouped secretly for further attacks.
Davydov was not only one of the most successful of the partisans but also the most famous and romantic. A well-known poet, he was immortalized by his friend Aleksandr Pushkin thus: ‘Hussar-poet, you’ve sung of bivouacs / Of the licence of devil-may-care carousals / Of the fearful charm of battle / And of the curls of your moustache.’ Well after his death, Davydov became more famous than ever as the figure on whom Tolstoy based his character Denisov, the charming and generous hussar who loses his heart to Natasha Rostov and in whose band of partisans her brother Petia loses his life in the autumn of 1812.7
The most notorious partisan commander was Captain Alexander Figner, who commanded an artillery battery at the battle of Borodino. The fall of Moscow left Figner lost in gloom and determined to revenge himself on the
