The German Liberation War of 1813: The Memoirs of a Russian Artilleryman

By Alexander Mikaberidze and Peter G A Phillips

First English translation of Ilya Timofeyevich Radozhitskii's memoirs, a Russian artillery officer who served with distinction during the wars against Napoleon.

The second of three volumes, this book represents the first English translation of the memoirs that rank among the best in the vast Napoleonic memoir literature. The author, Ilya Timofeyevich Radozhitskii, served with distinction during the wars against Napoleon and wrote down his reminisces shortly after the war based on the notes that he kept while campaigning. Born in 1788, Radozhitskii studied at the Imperial Orphanage, enlisted in the artillery unit in 1806, and steadily rose through the ranks, earning a reputation of a capable officer.

Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812 changed his life. Serving as an artillery lieutenant, he saw action in virtually every major battle of that historic campaign. In 1813-1814, Radozhitskii took part in the War of the German Liberation and the invasion of France, serving with distinction at Bischofswerde, Bautzen, Katzbach, and Leipzig before finishing the war as a staff captain in Paris in 1814. Upon Napoleon’s return in 1815, Radozhitskii was assigned to the Russian Expeditionary Corps that was dispatched to France but arrived too late to confront Napoleon.

Radozhitskii offers fresh insight into the life and daily experiences of Russian officers during the Napoleonic Wars. This volume follows Radozhitskii across Germany as the Russian army, buoyed by the victory over Napoleon in 1812, marched on to liberate German states. Radozhitskii’s narrative contains striking descriptions of the wartime experiences of soldiers and officers, vivid accounts of the battles, and heartrending stories from the French retreat. When published in Russia, these memoirs garnered considerable public attention and Leo Tolstoy consulted them extensively while writing his famous “War and Peace”.

The first volume, entitled The Russian Campaign of 1812, was published by Pen & Sword in 2023. Volume 3, The Invasion of France 1814, will follow in 2024.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pen and Sword
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781399042178

Alexander Mikaberidze

Alexander Mikaberidze is an assistant professor of history at Mississippi State University. He holds a law degree from the Republic of Georgia and a Ph.D. in history from Florida State University, where he worked at the Institute on Napoleon and the French Revolution. He serves as president of the Napoleonic Society of Georgia.

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Preface

Human life is short and fleeting, and many millions of individuals, who share in it, are swallowed by that monster of oblivion which is waiting for them with ever-open jaws. It is thus a very thankworthy task to try to rescue something – the memory of interesting and important events, or the leading features and personages of some epoch – from the general shipwreck of the world.

Arthur Schopenhauer,

‘Art der Literatur’

Much has been written about Europe’s struggle against Napoleon at the start of the nineteenth century, but many important aspects in this vast landscape of human experience remain only dimly explored. The shelves of any decent library groan under the weight of works on the British and French involvement in the Napoleonic Wars, but Russia’s long involvement in these conflicts attracted little attention in non-Russian languages. Moreover, due to political and ideological rivalries, linguistic difficulties, and administrative hurdles, only a handful of Russian memoirs have been translated into English; consequently, Russian voices remain largely absent from the pages of historical narrative. Russian perspective, however, is essential to understanding this complex era. There is much new to learn from the vast Russian literature memoir, whose pages abound with insights and fresh perspectives. This gap has been partially filled with the publication of a handful of Russian memoirs – such as those of Denis Davydov, Nadezhda Durova, Moritz von Kotzebue, Boris Uxkull, Aleksey Yermolov, Eduard von Löwenstern, and more recently a three-volume anthology Russian Eyewitness Accounts – but there still remain dozens of interesting memoirs and diaries awaiting their turn.

The lengthy reminiscences of Ilya Timofeyevich Radozhitskii deserve to be ranked among the finest of the Napoleonic memoirs. Its author, the future major general, was born on 17/28 July 1788 but little is known about his childhood. Radozhitskii studied at the Imperial Orphanage (Imperatorskii voenno-sirotskii dom) just as Napoleon was destroying the Third and Fourth Coalitions and forging his mighty empire. In late 1806, with Russia still at war with France, the 18-year-old Radozhitskii enlisted as a sub lieutenant in the Khersonskii Artillery Garrison where he served for two years. In the autumn of 1808, he transferred to the 2 Field Artillery Brigade, where, through much persistence and meritorious service, he rose to the rank of lieutenant in January 1810. Two years later he found himself in the Third Light Company of the 11 Artillery Brigade of the VI Infantry Corps.

Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812 marked a turning point in his life. Radozhitskii was involved in the fighting from the first days of the war. He distinguished himself during the fighting at Ostrovno (25 July) where he was wounded and decorated with the Order of St. Anna (fourth class) for gallantry. He then witnessed the battles of Smolensk (16–18 August), Lubino (Valutino Gora, 19 August) and Borodino (7 September); he lamented the surrender of Moscow on 14 September and celebrated the Russian victories at Vyazma and Krasnyi two months later. From November to December 1812, he was an eyewitness to the catastrophe that engulfed the Grande Armée, which he vividly describes in his memoirs.

In 1813-1814, Radozhitskii took part in the War of the Sixth Coalition and celebrated the end of the war on the Champs-Élysées in Paris in March 1814. Promoted to staff captain a year later, he barely had time to rest from the long return march from France when he was assigned to the Russian Expeditionary Corps that was dispatched to fight Napoleon upon his escape from Elba. Yet, the Russian corps arrived too late to contribute to Napoleon’s final defeat and Radozhitskii saw no combat. Instead, he took pleasure in the French and German landscapes and indulged in theatre and arts.

After the end of the war, Radozhitskii remained in the military and enjoyed a successful career. He was first assigned to His Imperial Majesty’s Suite on Quartermaster Service (the precursor to the Russian General Staff) and was promoted to captain in 1817. Two years later he was already a lieutenant colonel. After a brief retirement, he returned to active service in 1823 and was given command of the 1 Battery Company of the 22 Artillery Brigade. In 1824–1828 he commanded the 4 Battery Company of the 21 Artillery Brigade and the Caucasian Mobile Reserve Park. In 1828, he was deployed in the Caucasus and took part in the Russo-Ottoman War; during the fighting at Erzurum, he was introduced to the great Russian poet Alexander Pushkin, with whom he struck a friendship.

In later years Radozhitskii served in the artillery department of the Ministry of War but did not stay there for long as he was soon chosen to direct the main Russian armament factory at Tula. Promoted to colonel in December 1835, he was recognized with the Order of St. George (fouth class) for twenty-five years of unblemished service in the officer ranks. After a second retirement in 1838–1839, he once again returned to active duty and commanded artillery garrisons in Georgia, taking part in the battles against the Caucasian mountaineers during the Caucasian War in the 1840s. His performance was noticed and recognized with the promotion to the rank of major general in 1850 when he retired for the final time. He spent the remaining eleven years of his life in the city of Voronezh, where he passed away in April 1861 and was buried at the local Pokrovskii Monastery.

Aside from his military career, Radozhitskii also enjoyed literary success. He corresponded with many leading literary figures and published his articles in prominent contemporary newspapers and journals such as Severnaya pchela, Otechestvennye zapiski, etc. He was a prolific author, producing a four-volume memoir on the Napoleonic Wars, a multivolume reminiscence on his experiences during the Russo-Ottoman War and the Caucasian War, as well as numerous ethnographic essays that provide fascinating insights into the lives of the North Caucasian mountaineers. An active member of the Moscow Society of Gardeners, Radozhitskii spent years collecting and studying plants, introducing new species, and building one of the largest private botanical libraries in Russia. He poured his heart and soul into an illustrated fifteen-volume encyclopaedia of world flora that he spent most of his life writing but was never published.

Radozhitskii kept notes while campaigning and rewrote them into memoirs shortly after the war ended; excerpts from his writings began to appear in Russian literary journals and newspapers already in the early 1820s. Each of his four volumes of reminiscences on the Napoleonic Wars is dedicated to a specific campaign. The present volume opens with the dramatic moment of Napoleon’s defeat in Russia in 1812. War-weary after a brutal winter campaign, Radozhitskii, like many of his comrades, longed for rest but was instead ordered to proceed westward as the Russian army crossed the imperial borders in pursuit of the vanquished enemy. The start of the spring campaign proved woeful for the Russians and their Prussian allies. Napoleon miraculously, as Radozhitskii put it, created a new army in just a few months and confronted the allies at Lützen and Bautzen, both French victories. The Pläswitz Armistice allowed the allies to recover from these setbacks and resume the campaign stronger than before; Austria joined the coalition and declared war on Napoleon. Serving in an artillery company, Radozhitskii took part in the decisive battles of the war, serving with distinction at Katzbach (26 August, received the Order of St. Vladimir fourth class with ribbon for gallantry) and Leipzig (16–19 October, received the Order of St. Vladimir third class for gallantry). His memoir offers insights not only into the harsh reality of combat during the Napoleonic Wars but also, more interestingly, into the daily life of soldiers and officers, full as it was with long marches, changing orders, the constant search for food and forage, and hardship of bivouac life. At one point Radozhitskii ruefully notes that the time had come for him to leave my urban distractions behind and hurry back to the smoky bivouacs; to go from abundance to poverty; to plunge myself into grief after experiencing so many pleasures – that is, to surrender myself to the fickle fate of a soldier. Our life is like a light feather carried by the wind of circumstance over valleys of joys and across the abysses of disasters. His narrative is curious and amusing in its preoccupation with women, theatre, and entertainment, but also instructive in its latent antisemitism and prejudice.

Written with flair and an eye for a memorable scene, these reminiscences rival historical novels of the period, painting a grand panorama of Russia’s struggle against Napoleon with a lowly artillery officer caught in the middle of it all, inured to the horrors of war but still retaining his humanity.

Alexander Mikaberidze

Shreveport Louisiana

September 9, 2023

Chapter I

From the Russian Border to the Oder

Russia, the vanquisher of the enemy within her own frontiers, seeking no rest and in the wake of bloody battles, went on to liberate Germany¹ from the yoke of the conqueror [Napoleon]. She stretched a hand of friendship to the subjugated prisoner [Germany], offered her faithful alliance and selfless support to break the heavy shackles of bondage, and, invoking the spirit of the fallen descendants of the ancient Norsemen and Teutons, revived the German hopes of regaining their lost freedoms. Astounded by what had transpired presently² and called upon to rise up by Russia, who so many thought would be subjugated, like themselves, in the unequal struggle with the mighty foe [France], Germans now beheld her [Russia] in awe as she menacingly approached their frontiers. They observed her blood-soaked hair and deep wounds close to her heart, but they could also see her menacing gaze and vengeful weapons that she was holding, weapons that she intended to use to obliterate her enemy. Seeing the splendid example of her patriotic sacrifice in the burning of her ancient capital [Moscow], in the steady efforts of the Czar to rally his realm, in the fervour of her people, the Germans themselves felt ashamed of having been lulled to sleep.

But Russia’s mighty foe [Napoleon] was still standing, his strength only half diminished and still terrifying for the subjugated Germans. The efforts of Russia alone were scarcely sufficient to offer substantial assistance to these subdued souls. Yet the spirit of the national freedom began slowly awakening amongst this inveterate servitude. And the first signs were already visible – Prussia entered into an alliance of friendship with Russia,³ an honour to the Prussian Monarch⁴ and his people. Their action struck a chord in the hearts of other Germanic peoples too. Only Austria vacillated for a long time, unsure as she was in her own political intentions; on the one hand, the ties of kinship bound her to the conqueror⁵ while certain feeling of distrust of the sincerity of Russia mingled in her heart; on the other hand, she still nurtured the humiliated pride at being still subservient to the one who had just experienced such a severe defeat and seemed teetering on the verge of downfall. The vast resources that Napoleon still possessed complicated Austria’s choice. But time was of essence as we could neither allow Napoleon’s new efforts to be fulfilled, nor grant him time to re-establish himself amongst his conquered allies. And so it was that Russia hastened to invade Germany. Her valiant stance, in the face of the mighty enemy, could arouse the spirit of the national revival among the peoples [of Germany], for the eloquence of diplomats cannot accomplish much without the force of arms. Germany, yearning for freedom but still groaning under the yoke of Napoleon’s rule, might have chosen to show humility and sacrifice herself for him. But the Russian troops advanced, and all the enemy strategies proved futile, for he merely hastened the means of his own destruction.

At the start of the new year, 1813, the main Russian army, under the leadership of Field Marshal Prince Kutuzov-Smolenskii,⁶ had crossed the border in several places. Our Sovereign Emperor [Alexander], along with the field marshal and the troops stationed near Vilna [Vilnius], crossed the Nieman River near the town of Mericz [Merkinė], on the first day of the new year [13 January 1813],⁷ and had directed the main army towards West Prussia; this force counted some 46,000 troops. In Admiral Chichagov’s⁸ Army of the West, stationed at Marienburg [Malbork], had some 16,000 men remaining and was adjacent to the right flank of the main army, which had its own quarters in Johannisburg [Pisz]. To the right of Chichagov, Wittgenstein’s⁹ 40,000 man-strong corps stretched all the way to the mouth of the Vistula River, having its headquarters in Elbing [Elbląg].

Before crossing the imperial frontiers, General Miloradovich’s¹⁰ corps had consisted of regiments from the 8 and 11 Divisions, with their artillery, and combined battalions.¹¹ In the vanguard were six Cossack and Bashkir regiments, one uhlan regiment, two of hussars, and six of dragoons, under the command of General Korff.¹² In total, this corps was said to have listed some 11,600 men and its corps headquarters was located in Grodno.

On the first day of the new year [13 January], we set out from our quarters and proceeded through the Bialystok region to Goniądz. In this region the inhabitants were as poor as in Lithuania, although they had cottages with chimney stoves and fireplaces. We stayed in Goniądz for three days, and received replacements of men and horses.

We were followed by General Dokhturov’s¹³ corps, about 8,000 men strong, while, to our left was Baron Osten-Sacken’s¹⁴ corps of 6,000 men.

On January 7[19], we left Goniądz and, crossing the Bóbr [Biebrza] River, entered the Duchy of Warsaw. For an officer to be outside the borders of his homeland for the first time was as thrilling as for a cadet to receive the rank of an ensign. Everything abroad attracted my attention; certain pleasant emotions flattered one’s pride. We are abroad at last, I kept thinking to myself; now the old comrades will not boast that they are the only ones who have seen the world, foreign lands, and peoples. Every little thing fascinated me. I had already begun to examine the differences between the present and the past; everything seemed better to me. Despite the fact that the inhabitants of the Duchy of Warsaw had been devastated by the exorbitant demands of the French, they seemed in better conditions compared to the Lithuanians [on the Russian side of the border]: their cottages were cleaner and their estates more prosperous. In the villages, near stone-built churches, Polish peasants appeared, half-shaven, like the Little Russians,¹⁵ in blue caftans; the people were well-built, good looking, and healthy. They welcomed us into quarters with dumb fear, but seeing the meekness of their imagined enemies, they willingly served us with the last morsels they still possessed. We found everywhere sufficient food, for which no payment was demanded from us.

Thus, in favourable weather, we approached the Vistula River, leaving behind the main road from Bialystok to Warsaw. On 15 [27] January, we entered Przasnysz. The troops marched through the town in parade order in front of our corps commander, General Miloradovich.

The objective of our advance was the capture of Warsaw, defended by a 35,000 strong Austrian Corps under the command of Prince Schwarzenberg,¹⁶ and an 8,000-man-strong Polish Corps. The Austrians still held the right bank of the Vistula, but as the Russians approached, they gave way before them, with all the courtesy of enemies ready to make peace; in the vanguard, Austrian officers greeted ours amicably, and left us their magazines intact.

On 19 [31] January, we entered the town of Sochoczyn [Sochocin]. My comrades and I were directed to quarters with the priest, who, willingly or unwillingly, treated us to whatever he could, and was very indignant about Napoleon, who had caused him such unease. We were halted here for several days. In the evenings, musicians would gather at Colonel Maleev’s, our brigade commander; and I had the pleasure of hearing a Polish virtuoso playing the cello. Being satisfied with everything during the continuation of the campaign, and without meeting any enemy anywhere, we passed the time in our company merrily.

General Miloradovich’s corps headquarters was in the town of Płońsk. Deputations from Warsaw came to this general, in whose presence our troops paraded. Prince Schwarzenberg, with 45,000 men, could have defended Warsaw and the entire line of fortresses along the Vistula for quite some time, but he apparently did not intend to sacrifice the armed forces of Austria in order to maintain the declining greatness of Napoleon, who was hated by the entire Austrian nation. Schwarzenberg instead entered negotiations with General Miloradovich about his retreat from the ancient capital of Poland; to that end, an armistice was concluded between the Russians and the Austrians. During negotiations, French officials, members of the Confederation, Ministers, and every patriot, the government of the duchy, withdrew to the town of Częstochowa, on the border of Silesia, having abandoned the fate of their fatherland to the forces of circumstance. By virtue of the treaty, Prince Schwarzenberg withdrew to Galicia with the Austrians, the Poles fled to Petrikau [Piotrków Trybunalski] with Prince Poniatowski¹⁷ while General Reynier¹⁸ went to Kalisz with the Saxons. After that, on 16 [28] January, our vanguard entered the deserted capital of the Duchy of Warsaw.

A stubborn garrison still remained in the fortress of Modlin [Twierdza Modlin]. Lieutenant General Markov¹⁹ was instructed to besiege the fortress. On 24 January [5 February], we crossed the Vistula, near the village of Smoszewo. Beyond the Vistula, near the outskirts of the capital [Warsaw], we could see more signs of the once prosperous [Polish] kingdom: the villages were more frequent and more affluent, the inhabitants were more well-off, and the dialect of the language was more correct. The banks of the Vistula were covered with good oak woods; it was not yet spring, but the location presented lovely views.

We approached the Wola suburb of the city [Warsaw], where there had once been noisy Sejm²⁰ for the election of the Polish kings; thereafter we were directed along the route to Modlin, and, having completed a stage of more than 40 verstas [27 miles], at midnight we stood in front of the fortress, on the left bank of the Vistula, where, for the first time since the border, we again entered basic bivouacs.

The Modlin Fortress was built in 1811, on the right bank of the Vistula, at the confluence with the river Bobra²¹; there remained a garrison of about 5,000 Poles, Saxons and French, under the command of the invalid commandant, General Daendels.²² The fortress had been supplied with sufficient food and military supplies; despite the earthen rampart not being capable of withstanding a proper siege, however, the besieged could still offer a long, stubborn resistance. Although we had surrounded the fortress from all sides and cut off its external communications, the foolhardy commandant greeted any approach by our troops with round shot.

There was a heavy snowfall during the night of 26 January [7 February]: so, along with the outbreak of hostilities, the Polish winter took revenge on us for the cruelty of the Russian one. The Vistula was still under a crust of ice.

Taking advantage of a rest day, I decided to make an excursion, to ride a horse along the bank, and inspect the fortress lying on the other side of the river. Our bivouacs were hidden behind a tree line, and in anticipation of a formal siege, the troops were resting. I invited Lieutenant Bodisko as a companion for the reconnaissance. Throwing on our greatcoats, we rode without any weapons along the bank towards the fortress, through the woods, not expecting to encounter the enemy at all. Imagine our amazement when, having ridden out from the forest, we suddenly found ourselves within musket range of a fortification, or bridgehead, on this side of the river! In front of the gate of the fortification stood two large wagons with hay, and with them the enemy foragers; sentries were patrolling on the ramparts. Upon seeing us, they stopped and stared. But as we were unarmed and rode at walking pace, we threw them into doubt, so that they did not know whether to identify us as their own men or as their enemies. My comrade wanted to turn his horse about to gallop away, but I stopped him, and advised him to continue on closer to the fortification, in order to keep the enemy in doubt; otherwise, they would shoot at us with muskets, and we, having caused alarm among our own men, would be held culpable. Thus, without changing our behaviour, we continued to move towards the fortification, past the foragers, who, not considering us dangerous to themselves, went their own way to transport fodder across the ice to the fortress; The sentries all stared at us, but remained undecided. We had only to ride past the curtain wall and the face of the bastion, on which cannon were positioned; being at half musket range from the walls, we feared, not without reason, that any one of the marksmen might take it into their heads to aim at us and test their accuracy. But as soon as we had ridden around the angle of the bastion, we suddenly spurred the horses, set off at full speed, and only then came to ourselves. Having galloped a hundred sazhen [213 m]²³, we almost got into trouble again, this time with our Cossacks. Seeing us galloping from the fortress, they took us for the enemy, and, lowering their lance points, began to manoeuvre to engage; but we, waving our hats, let them know that we were not in the least dangerous to them; when they came up, one bearded man said: What malevolent forces have brought you here!? Because you could have been lost for no money. Such are youths! - Burning desire is worse than fire,²⁴ I replied and we returned to our bivouacs, as if we had never been involved in anything.

At noon, the troops were ordered to withdraw from the camp and march towards Warsaw. This made us very happy, because we were worried about sitting outside Modlin on the blockade. All the infantry, deployed in divisional columns²⁵, with drums beating and music playing, marched on the ice past the fortress; the artillery was sent along the bank. The brave peg-legged commandant [Daendels] could not let the Russians to parade so courageously past him so he ordered several round shots to be fired from the fortress at our musicians but the power of harmony nudged these cannonballs aside, without causing any dissonance.²⁶ Those who later deserted from the fortress said that the commandant had been very angry with the Russians, and, jumping on one leg (the other had been shot away), raged at their courage to the point of exhaustion. Several regiments from the II Corps remained to blockade this fortress.

On 27 January [8 February], we spent the night about 15 verstas [10 miles] from Warsaw, in a small village. General Miloradovich had already taken the city, and General Dokhturov was left in it as the military governor with his corps. The city elders had greeted the victors with bread and salt, and presented the keys on a velvet pillow. Our troops entered in parade order, in the presence of a great crowd of people. Delicious meals awaited our men in their quarters, but this time they did not trust the hospitality of the [Polish] well-wishers: the soldiers were ordered to eat their Spartan gruel with hard tack biscuit, and leave the Polish spoils intact. One Armida,²⁷ a Warsaw noble, it was said had prepared a magnificent table in her charming garden, in her country house, decorated with coloured garlands, where her lovely nymphs were servants - in order to treat the generals and the field officers, the victors over Napoleon; however, such affability seemed suspicious and the Russians did not trust the sweet enticing of the crafty Polish patriots.

The next day we marched over to Grodzisk, in the direction of Kalisz, pursuing General Reynier, who deployed there with his troops. The further we moved away from Warsaw, the more clearly the well-being of the inhabitants was revealed, even though they had already sacrificed a lot to the French cause.

Beyond the town of Strzembowo, we encountered the Austrians. We were only to pass through villages, which they no longer occupied. Eager to be on our way forward, we got up from our accommodation too early, and therefore were forced to wait until our friendly enemies [druzhestvennye nepriyateli] had finished their breakfast and made way for us. A small stream in front of the village divided the belligerent forces. On the steep bank on our side stood the Chuguevskii uhlans, jägers, and artillery who made up the vanguard under the command of General Melissino.²⁸ On the opposite bank, behind a bridge, there was a tavern [korchma], and near it, an outpost of Austrian cuirassiers, in helmets without plumes. We could have started hostilities if the truce had not been in place; but now had no choice but to send a negotiator [parlementaire] to