Diary of a Napoleonic Footsoldier Read online

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Walter, Jakob, 1788–1864.

  [Denkwurdige Geschichtschreibung über die erlebte

  Millitäridienstzeit des Verfassers dieses Schreibens. English]

  The diary of a Napoleonic foot soldier / Jakob Walter; edited and

  with an introduction by Marc Raeff. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Translation of: Denkwurdige Geschichtschreibung über die erlebte

  Millitäridienstzeit des Verfassers dieses Schreibens.

  1. Walter, Jakob, 1788–1864. 2. Napoleonic Wars, 1800–1815—

  Personal narratives, German. 3. Napoleonic Wars, 1800–1815—

  Campaigns—Soviet Union. 4. Soldiers—Germany—Biography.

  5. Germany. Heer—Biography. I. Raeff, Marc. II. Title.

  DC226.5.W3513 1991

  940.2’7—dc20 90-26735

  eISBN: 978-0-307-81756-3

  Copyright © 1991 by Doubleday

  This edition was edited and prepared for publication by Marc Raeff

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  v3.1

  THE EDITOR WISHES TO THANK

  VARTAN GREGORIAN, WHO, AS PRESIDENT OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY,

  BROUGHT THIS MANUSCRIPT TO OUR ATTENTION.

  GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT IS MADE

  TO EDWARD KASINEC,

  CHIEF OF THE SLAVIC AND BALTIC DIVISION

  OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY,

  FOR HIS INVALUABLE GUIDANCE.

  Contents

  Cover

  Map

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Introuction

  The Diary of a Napoleonic Foot Soldier

  Campaign of 1806 and 1807

  Campaign of 1809

  Campaign of 1812 and 1813

  Historical Appraisal of Walter’s Chronicle

  by Frank E. Melvin

  Notes to the Diary

  Writing Home: Six Letters

  Notes to the Letters

  About the Illustrations

  Chronology

  Place Names

  Reading Suggestions

  Introduction

  And us, the men, the mean, the rank and file?

  Us, tramping broken, wounded, muddy, dying?

  Having no hope of duchies and endowments.…

  (ADAPTED INTO ENGLISH BY L. N. PARKER, NEW YORK 1900)

  Et nous, les petits, les obscurs, les sans-grades,

  Nous qui marchions fourbus, blessés, crottés malades,

  Sans espoir de duchés ni de dotations …

  EDMOND ROSTAND,

  L’AIGLON, ACTE II, SCÈNE 9

  THE FRENCH REVOLUTION of 1789 seemed to many the dawn of a new era—of a new world order based on individual political and economic freedoms. On the other hand, Napoleon’s rule (1799–1815), which emerged from the Revolution, struck his subjects like a conquering whirlwind which came near to establishing France as the sole great power in the Western world. True, Napoleon’s reign was not only one of war and conquest, it also helped to disseminate and to root the “Rights of Man and of the Citizen” in many parts of Europe, initiating a process of liberalization and democratization that is the foundation of our own times. All this we see now, in retrospect—to contemporaries it must have appeared differently. As we all know, profound social and political transformations exact a heavy price from those who benefit as well as from those who suffer from them, while military conquests are bought with “blood, sweat, and tears.” The heroic saga of Napoleon’s wars, and the many victories won by his armies, reaped a bountiful harvest of pride and glory for France; they are celebrated by monuments, sung by poets, exalted by historians and national myths. Even while the legacy of Napoleon recedes farther and farther from today’s reality, France and the world are about to celebrate the bicentennial of his deeds—witness the new Dictionnaire Napoléon, the refurbishing of monuments and museums to his glory, the staging of Edmond Rostand’s paean, L’Aiglon, the exhibitions of the arts and artifacts of his times.

  While we may recall Napoleon’s glory and his genuinely lasting accomplishments in law, education, and administration—both in France and in vassal regions of Western and Central Europe—we cannot forget the price paid by his contemporaries, especially the little folk, the ordinary soldiers whose blood, sweat, and toil won his battles and brought him glory. The sad truth, however, is that the common people leave few historical records, whether written or material. We are particularly fortunate when ordinary fighting men, soldiers and noncommissioned officers, leave memoirs and autobiographies recounting their part in the Napoleonic epic. There are not many of them and we should be particularly keen to preserve the few we have and to make them widely known. This is the reason for republishing an English translation of one of the very rare autobiographies by an ordinary conscript soldier, and a German at that, who had the misfortune of participating in the disastrous campaign Napoleon undertook in the vain belief that he could defeat Russia. In addition we are fortunate to publish, for the first time in English, six letters written home by soldiers in the course of the campaign itself.

  For over twenty years France was at war, involving at one time or another virtually all European states. Unlike all previous European wars, even those that had lasted for decades, the revolutionary and Napoleonic campaigns were fought by conscripts drawn from the general population; in a true sense they were the first “national wars” that involved practically the whole people. It has been estimated that in the course of fifteen years (1800–15) Napoleon raised about 2 million conscripts in France alone—about 7 percent of the total population. Little wonder that population growth in France fell dramatically, resulting in a relative decline of its population throughout the nineteenth century, at a time when England, Germany, and Prussia were having their largest population explosion ever.

  Originally, “the nation in arms” had risen to defend the Revolution against the threat of a royalist restoration and of the elimination of the social and civic rights secured in 1789. It did not matter that, in point of fact, it was the revolutionary government that had declared war to forestall the coalition of Austria, Prussia, Russia, and England. The very success of France in driving back the armies of the monarchical alliance from its soil, and in pursuing them beyond the borders, created the conditions for a messianic drive to carry the message of liberation from the old order beyond what—since Richelieu’s times—had been claimed as the “natural frontiers” of France, and the installation of “sister republics”—Batavian, in today’s Belgium, Helvetian, Cisalpine in northern Italy, etc. Although it defeated its Continental enemies, republican France could not subdue England, whose implacable enmity (under the leadership of Pitt the Younger) precluded the recognition and security of the changes, both domestic and foreign, wrought by the Revolution since 1789. At least, this is the way it was seen and interpreted at the time by both sides. England would not acquiesce to French control of the estuary of the Rhine and of the Belgian coast, and continued to organize and subsidize Continental coalitions against France. In addition, Pitt and his government believed that a reinvigorated France might pose a threat to England’s colonial empire and trade routes, especially in the eastern Mediterranean. Their belief seemed to be confirmed in 17
98 by General Bonaparte’s attempt to conquer Egypt and the coast of what is today Syria and Lebanon and to disrupt England’s Eastern trade. Bonaparte’s rhetoric (and aborted negotiations with Emperor Paul I of Russia) about striking at England in India did not contribute to making English policy more accommodating and pacific. As a result, all treaties of peace concluded between France and the other powers in the last decade of the eighteenth and the first years of the nineteenth centuries proved to be only truces to be broken at the first opportunity.

  Napoleon had seized power to extricate France from the domestic difficulties that had been brought about by the mismanagement of the Directory, to consolidate the gains of the Revolution, and to enhance its—as well as his own—glory, by securing, and if possible expanding, the territorial acquisitions of the new French social and political order. Such a double goal could not but bring about a self-fulfilling prophecy of ever renewed coalitions and wars, and new territorial conquests stubbornly rejected by England. Napoleon succeeded in defeating Austria, Prussia, and Russia—but Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar precluded any serious French naval challenge and ensured that England would fight on and subsidize Continental allies, so that Napoleon never achieved the military and diplomatic security he craved. Napoleon’s military genius brought victory and ever new conquests on the Continent, and war lasted, with short-term breathing spells, from 1799 to his failure in Russia in 1812 and final defeat in 1814–15.

  In 1806, following the defeat of the Third Coalition at Austerlitz, the Holy German Empire of the Germanic Nation—in existence since the tenth century—was dissolved by its Emperor, Francis II, who was also ruler of the Habsburg lands. In its stead Napoleon created the Confederation of the Rhine, which in fact was a French satellite, encompassing the German states, with the exclusion of Austria and Prussia. The major states of the Confederation, Württemberg and Westphalia, were promoted to kingdoms—Württemberg keeping its ruler, while Westphalia, a new creation carved out from former sovereign principalities and Prussian lands, received as king Napoleon’s younger brother Jérôme. Most important in our context, the various states of the Confederation had to furnish troops to be raised through a system of conscription similar to that of France. In the war of 1807–9 against Austria, Prussia, and Russia, contingents from these newly created kingdoms—promised significant territorial benefits after victory—fought on the side of the French. The author of our autobiography, Jakob Walter, had his first military experiences during that war.

  Since he could not beat England by naval and military means, Napoleon tried to strangle it economically. He proclaimed the Continental Blockade (Decree of Berlin, 21 November 1806) that prohibited all his satellites and allies from trading with England. After practically dismembering Prussia in 1807, Napoleon forced Alexander I, Emperor of Russia, to accept peace (treaty of Tilsit, 8 July 1807) and to join the Continental Blockade. Disagreements about the implementation of the blockade regulations constituted a major element of friction between Napoleon and Russia. This was exacerbated by serious discord over Poland. Emperor Alexander I considered control over neighboring Poland an essential element of his empire’s security. On the other hand, Napoleon expected to use Poland as a friendly satellite to keep Prussia and Russia in check. He set up the Grand Duchy of Warsaw as an autonomous state, broadly hinting that it would serve as the nucleus of a revived Polish state under French tutelage. However, it was dawning on Napoleon that his domination over Continental Europe would never be secure as long as Russia, with its vast manpower resources and territory, was not cowed into submission. Only then, Napoleon fancied, could he force England, barred from all trade with Europe, to accept his peace terms.

  Alexander I understood the situation just as well. Moreover, Russian court circles and economic interests found membership in the Continental Blockade highly onerous. Alexander I also realized that for all his promises, Napoleon would not give him a free hand against Turkey (with whom he was at war). When Napoleon came to the conviction that he had not obtained Alexander’s genuine acceptance of his new order in Europe, he began preparing for a war against Russia. But he was quite aware that in order to defeat Russia decisively he would need an overwhelming force. He started to build up the Grande Armée in 1811 in preparation for the campaign against Russia. He hoped that, as had always been the case, a decisive victory at the start would compel Alexander I to sue for peace. His strategic plans, as well as the logistic preparation of the campaign, were predicated on the notion that war was but another instrument to achieve political ends. But, as is well known, the decisive battle eluded Napoleon. He was forced to push on into Russia’s heartland, occupy Moscow, overextend his supply lines, and exhaust his troops. Yet, the Russian army remained at full strength and no peace offer was forthcoming from Alexander I. The burning of Moscow (whose true causes have still not been fully elucidated) proved to be the last straw and forced Napoleon to order the retreat. His exhausted troops, incapable of breaking through to the south (battle of Maloiaroslavets, 24 October 1812) to seek rest and supplies in the Ukraine, had to retrek on the road of invasion through a devastated countryside, prey to partisan attacks, and decimated by the hardships of a Russian winter, compounded by demoralization and famine. The star of Napoleon’s power and glory was setting.

  The revolutionary armies had been manned practically by Frenchmen only. But as Napoleon’s empire expanded, and embroiled him into more and more wars, he came to call upon the populations of annexed and “allied” countries to contribute to the manpower needs of his army. Before 1812 he had called upon Italians and Germans to fight in campaigns near their own homeland, as our author documents in the first chapters of his autobiography. For the invasion of Russia, Napoleon again ordered conscription in all the states directly under his control. His Grande Armée in 1812 numbered about 600,000 men, of whom only about one half were French conscripts, while the remainder were made up of soldiers from Poland (the largest number, since the Poles hoped to regain their independence after a French victory), Italy, Holland, Austria, Prussia, and the states of the Confederation of the Rhine, more particularly Württemberg and Westphalia.

  Following the French example, the German states, too, had introduced conscription. In Württemberg men between the ages of eighteen and forty were subject to conscription, active service being for eight years in the infantry and ten years in the cavalry and artillery. Thus, our hero Jakob Walter was first conscripted in 1806 and then recalled to duty twice, in 1809 and 1812. When Napoleon decided on the campaign against Russia he demanded that his German “allies,” in fact satellites, mobilize too. In a letter, dated 27 January 1812, to Frederick, whom he had made king of Württemberg in 1806, he ordered that the Württemberg contingent be ready to march on 15 February 1812. The king had no alternative but to execute this order. Likewise, Napoleon’s brother, King Jérôme of Westphalia, was ordered to furnish 27,000 men. Württemberg mobilized nine infantry regiments, as well as some artillery and cavalry units. The troops, 12,000 men in all, were placed under the nominal command of the Crown Prince William and were part of the corps commanded by Marshal Ney.

  Napoleon’s motives and policies are well documented and have been thoroughly analyzed, even though historians continue to disagree on a final assessment. But what made all his numerous conscripts fight on and on? First of all, naturally, compulsion and fear of retribution in case of disobedience and desertion. Although, as the years of war dragged on, and the burden of monetary contributions and conscription became increasingly heavy, the number of desertions and self-mutilations, to escape army service, grew by leaps and bounds. Nevertheless, in the case of the Frenchmen, revolutionary fervor and the magic of Napoleon’s name, pride in the victories and the glory that rebounded on them—all served to sustain their energies in the hope of final victory and final reward. These attitudes are well documented in the memoirs of such French veteran soldiers as Sergeant Bourgogne and Captain Coignet, although one should make allowance for retrospective embellishme
nts and anachronistic perspectives.

  Unfortunately, there seem to be no equivalent sources for the Russian side. Although there is a vast documentation on the invasion of Russia and the subsequent campaigns of 1813–15, and an extensive historiography of this period of Russian history, there is practically nothing on and by the common soldier, as illustrated by most recent bibliographies of memoirs, letters, and autobiographies published in the Soviet Union. What there is comes in the form of some eyewitness accounts by merchants and artisans of the French occupation of Moscow and of its burning; as well as descriptions, collected by someone else, of a few peasants’ and soldiers’ experiences as members of the militia and partisan groups in 1812. This state of affairs is witness, on the one hand, to the comparatively low level of literacy of the Russian population (as compared with that of the ordinary peasant, town dweller, and soldier in France or the Germanies). On the other hand, it may also illustrate the greater reluctance of the Establishment and of the elites (in spite of their alleged populism) to let the common man speak for himself and the constrictive censorship instituted by Alexander I at the end of the war and reinforced, after 1825, by his successor Nicholas I. The relaxation of censorship after 1861 came too late to permit collecting materials that would not be overly distorted by a great chronological gap.

  As in the case of the Poles, the Russians conceived of the campaign of 1812 as a war of liberation. For the former it held out the promise of liberation from foreign rule and the restoration of an independent Polish state—no wonder that Prince Poniatowski’s corps performed particularly well until his death in battle at Leipzig in 1813. As for the latter, it was a truly defensive and allegedly patriotic war to safeguard the Orthodox faith and the integrity of the national way of life and territory. At the start of the war there had been concern in high places about the loyalty of the peasant-serfs in the western provinces and near Moscow. This concern, as well as stategic considerations, led the Russian command to adopt a policy of mass evacuation and scorched earth. Napoleon’s failure to manifest any intention of freeing the serfs and to improve their lot (the same mistake Hitler was to repeat a century and a quarter later), and the ruthless pillage by his troops, turned even the most wretched Russian serf against the invader. Difficult as it is to accept the hagiographic clichés of popular enthusiasm in defense of the fatherland, there is no question that the Russian peasant did resist the invaders, and contributed his share to the French Emperor’s defeat. The militia raised by the government and by private landowners surely took active part in exhausting and pursuing the Grande Armée.