Defeat:: Napoleon's Russian Campaign (New York Review Books Classics) [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

I came across this book by chance. I am not a historian nor am I a student of the Napoleonic era, so I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this text. De Segur does seem to put the French in a more positive light and the Russians in a more negative, but that is to be expected since he was a French officer. What I can say is that his descriptions go right to the heart. The anticipation of the advance, the ghostly uneasiness of the occupation, and then of course the retreat ... the retreat ... the long, cold, bitter, humiliating retreat. If you must read this book, read this book for the retreat. You will see humanity stripped to its very bones, both literally and figuratively. Without giving away any of the details, I will just say that you will not be unmoved. Guaranteed. Read it.

I am very pleased to see this book back in print: it is a genuinely classic war narrative. Before this re-issue, the last edition I know of was in the all-to-short-lived, "Time Reading Program" text of 1965, translated by J. David Townsend.

The original text was published in 1824 and served as the primary source for most subsequent novels and histories of the Russian Campaign. The NYRB and the Time edition are abridged versions (as edited by the Count's grandson) of the 10 volume original, omitting many of the tedious military details, focusing instead on the motive force behind it all: Napoleon himself.

The author began his military career as an aide-de-camp on Napoleon's staff. He remained there through many of the Emperor's campaigns. As a result, he had intimate exposure to the great man and was a first-hand witness to history. The Russian invasion lead to the destruction of the Grande Armee and, therafter, to the eventual defeat of the Empire and this book spells out the reasons for the debacle in clear and fascinating detail.

Napoleon vastly underestimated the resilience of Russian defenders, the vast spaces to traverse (with their extended lines of supply), the difficulty of the terrain and, most especially, the Russian weather. He was also physically ill during periods of the campaign, further complicating matters.

Despite deprivations that rivaled those experienced by Napoleon's epigone, Adolf Hitler, his troops remained loyal throughout the protracted campaign. For example, "From now on there existed no fraternity of arms, no society, no human ties. An excess of hardship had made brutes of our men and hunder, ravenous, devouring hunger, had killed everything in those unfortunate beings but the instinct of self-preservation, sole driving force of the fiercest animals, to which everything else is sacrificed."

The book is outstanding military history and a genuinely gripping account of battle. The soldiers, their leaders, the battlegrounds, strategy and tactics are all vividly depicted and lucidly conveyed. Napoleon's charisma and skillful generalship are evident throughout, although the author is not an uncritical observer.

Napoleon was one of the last great soldier-conquerors and statesman. Along with the French Revolution, Napoleon has left an indelible imprint not only on France, but on Europe and the rest of the world. As we know, the Russian Campaign ended in a resounding defeat, one whose implications echoed into the 20th century. It is fitting that an historian of the skill of Count Philippe-Paul de Segur was a witness to the man and his army. As the Count wrote, "Theirs was only the ghost of an army: but, it was the Grand Army! They felt like they had been defeated by Nature, and the sight of the Emperor restored their courage."

I've heard of authors appearing in court to defend their literary art, but Count Philippe-Paul de Segur risked his life twice: first, during the deadly Russian Campaign itself when, as personal aide to Napoleon, he wrote down his observations while men dropped dead all around him; then, the second time, after the resulting memoir was published in 1824, an intimate friend of Napoleon thought Segur was too critical of the fallen emperor and challenged him to a duel, during which the author was wounded. While Segur had been loyal to Napoleon right up to Waterloo, apparently for some readers, he should not have acknowledged the good qualities of the Russians, nor should he have drawn such a detailed portrait of Napoleon under pressure.

While you can read for yourself how the French emperor and his most brilliant Marshals and officers were drawn deep into Russia, then defeated by the winter and harried out of the vast country by an steady flow of Russian troops and resources, there are three things that stand out to me. First of all, Segur was familiar with the craft of writing, how to take the facts and shape them concisely for a purpose. He knew how to use the actual battle scenes, the entry into Moscow, and Napoleon's temperament to develop his plot, to turn each scene lyrically. Obviously, Segur began his memoir with the end in mind, namely, to illustrate one of history's greatest lessons about one nation attacking another. People loved Napoleon, but Segur concludes, ". . . this great man in those great circumstances was unable to subdue nature . . . . certain mistakes were made, which were punished by abysmal suffering," Segur continues. "On this ocean of disaster, I have erected a melancholy beacon with a lurid beam; and if my weak hand has not been equal to the painful task, I have at least attempted to give this warning, that those who came after us may see the peril and avoid it" (289). Segur wrote with a coherent, carefully gauged purpose which he sustained throughout, thereby, making this military memoir a classic.

Secondly, Segur shows why men were willing to follow Napoleon to the ends of the earth. I won't go into detail, but the Emperor must have had a seductive personality, charming manners, and a cult of celebrity built around him. Throughout the book, Segur shows us Napoleon's fine qualities as a person--yes, he had them--and many wise sayings were attributed to him. After riding through the Borodino battlefield littered with corpses, a dying soldier groaned; someone said that it is only a Russian, to which Napoleon replied, "There are no enemies after a victory, but only men!" (81).

Thirdly, Segur acknowledges the fine qualities of the Russians. Previously, the French had defeated the them in Western Europe in 1805 and again in 1807, but on their own soil, in 1812, they did not crush the French when they could have--they let the winter do its horrible work. I've never heard ice on a river described to feel so cold in the reading, nor have I heard what it looks like when men living or dead slip beneath the ice to freeze in the grip of the frigid water. But--winter or not--in other scenes, the Russian troops often seemed to hold back. At one point, Segur claims that once the commanding officers noticed that the weather was defeating the French, they refrained from attacking. "Comrades, we must do them justice," Segur writes of the Russian enemy after Moscow. In burning their own capital, "Their sacrifice was complete, without reservation or tardy regrets; and since that time they have never made any demands on us, even in our capital [Paris], which they left unharmed" (118). Yes, two years later, in 1814, the Russians occupied Paris (with other nations) but did not take the revenge they could have. "Their reputation has remained high and spotless," Segur concluded. Of course, he was French and he believed the Russians as a whole had not developed culturally.

This astonishing account of the disintegration of an army of over half a-million men, mostly French, but from anyone willing to follow the charismatic Napoleon, is a must read for background on 19th-century literature. Of course, Tolstoy's War and Peace comes to mind, but so does Stendhal's The Charterhouse of Parma. The Pierre-Antoine Daru mentioned frequently as Napoleon's Minister of War was an older cousin of the writer-to-be (who was merely Henri Beyle then). Daru was a close relation of Beyle's mother and got Beyle/Stendhal his first serious government career-track job, which alas would have been fatal if the 29-year-old Beyle hadn't learned some survival skills. After I finished Segur's account, I read Beyle/Stendhal's letters which he managed to send out to friends and family during the retreat from Moscow; Beyle claims he managed to keep his sang-froid during the disaster--once you're far into the mess there's no point in whining--but lost his carriage, money, journals, everything but the clothes he wore. How one survives such military disasters is a mystery to me, but the fact that certain men still order others into battle is--if not hubris--an insane pursuit after empire.