This post is a part of the 2023 Selected Papers of the Consortium on the Revolutionary Era, which were edited and compiled by members of the CRE’s board alongside editors at Age of Revolutions.

By Alex Belovsky

As war ravaged Europe in the wake of the French Revolution, the expanding scale of the conflict confronted European armies with new humanitarian and logistical challenges. In response, both the French and their enemies attempted to find ways to mitigate the worst excesses of this “modern” war as well as make some moral sense of its unsettling realities. Although these efforts are usually overshadowed by the drama of combat and debates of strategy, post-battle activities such as the burying the dead, treating the wounded and clearing debris from the battlefield all helped determine not only the extent of a victory but also the moral meaning ascribed to a battle. Far from being inconsequential afterthoughts, the execution and observation of these activities provided experiences that helped shape military culture, war memory, and the conception of national identity. 

As one might expect, soldiers’ first experiences of battle have long been a focal point of discussions of war memory; of particular note is how actual combat could contradict the expectations fostered by the eighteenth and nineteenth century’s often romanticized notions of warfare. However, a soldier’s “‘”baptism of fire” was not always the most disillusioning experience which a Napoleonic soldier encountered on a battlefield. Although traumatic and chaotic, the action of combat remained an area where soldiers and their comrades retained some agency over the events occurring around them. In contrast, what soldiers witnessed and experienced after combat often left them with feelings of powerlessness, exhaustion and unpreparedness. These were episodes where logistical preparations and the willingness to prioritize post-battle work over continued combat were often the defining factors. Despite the horrors of battle, even veteran soldiers of Napoleon’s Grande Armée could long believe that their army was mostly living up to the expectations cultivated by popular culture, official reports and their leaders’ humanitarian rhetoric. Yet when circumstances forced soldiers to actually observe the results of post-battle arrangements, they were often shocked by how the military systems in place failed to cope with the demands of ever-larger battles.

Although much can be learned from a more far-reaching examination of this topic, this paper focuses specifically on the experiences of members of the Grande Armée in the aftermath of the battles of Eylau and Borodino, actions which severely tested the French Army’s ability to meet its post-battle obligations. Moreover, these two episodes also saw armies retraversing former battlefields in the weeks and months following the end of combat. This resulted in opportunities for soldiers to encounter the realities of post-battle work and evaluate the work of their armies’ institutions in accomplishing the tasks of clearing the field, evacuating wounded and burying the dead. For these reasons, Eylau and Borodino generated particularly insightful commentary in which soldiers critiqued contemporary military practices and reflected upon the meaning of humanity, military community and national identity when surrounded with aftermath of battle.

Changes in War and Battlefield Experiences

Over time, Revolutionary and Napoleonic changes in how war was being waged caused eighteenth-century precedents concerning post-battle tasks to be reassessed. Although the weapons employed did not change drastically, a multitude of tactical and operational changes altered the priorities for post-battle activities. In particular, the emphasis placed on operational-level mobility made prolonged occupation of a battlefield after combat less likely while the combination of larger conscript armies, an emphasis on decisive field battles and the operational goal of exploiting victories through vigorous pursuit resulted in larger numbers of dead, wounded and captured men. At the same time, cultural and ideological shifts put war’s aftermath into a new context. The uprooting of social hierarchies, the empathetic rhetoric of human rights and the growth of proto-nationalist feeling were developments that affected far more than domestic politics; they also altered military behavior. Particularly, in the French military between 1792 and 1815, nationalist attachments, war-time propaganda and organizational changes within the army combined to provide a basis for soldiers to develop more modern post-battle standards to which they would hold military authorities responsible.

Changes in Support Services

The aforementioned changes in war’s conduct and scale necessitated institutional changes within the French military. Unlike earlier eighteenth-century campaigns which could be adequately addressed by relatively informal methods, the fighting after 1792 revealed a need for more formalized post-battle support systems. One area which changed was military medicine; although still crude by modern standards, the wartime changes to the organization and dispensing of care to battlefield wounded was significant enough to become an enduring point of pride for the French. Prior to these reforms, the typical standard of care often had soldiers waiting at least “twenty-four to thirty-six hours” for medical units to arrive on the scene.^[1] Tireless champions of soldiers’ well-being like Larrey, Desgenettes, Heurteloup and Percy helped change this state of affairs through the introduction of a well-ordered and more professionally trained military health service (Service de Santé de l’Armée), mobile ambulances (ambulances volantes) and the prioritization of wounded by medical criteria (triage).^[2] Although being wounded remained a harrowing experience, these innovations provided some solace and confidence to soldiers going into battle.^[3] On the eve of Eylau in 1807, these changes were well underway and were providing combatants with faster and more equitable care; aware of these benefits, French soldiers expected more than the pre-revolutionary standard of care.

Additional changes affecting post-battle conditions attempted to address the problem of military logistics and transportation. Napoleonic warfare’s emphasis on rapid maneuver and large conscript armies quickly exceeded the capabilities of traditional supply trains leading the French army to rely on foraging. The shortcomings of this solution became clear during the 1807 campaign after which the transport and logistical side of the army was the subject of critique and reform. After Eylau, civilian contractors (fourniseurs), accused of being too unwilling to risk their lives and equipment, were replaced by military crews just as artillery trains were militarized seven years prior.^[4]  Army transport had been transformed not only in form but also in scale with the number of military crews quadrupling between 1807 and 1812.^[5] Although improved, the system still struggled particularly in sparsely-populated regions, difficult roads and poor weather; however, the formalized structure and professionalism of the army’s logistical support provided better organization to post-battle efforts and seemed to justify higher post-battle expectations. These changes to medical care and logistics not only had practical effects on post-battle work but also altered where the moral responsibility for the dead and wounded fell. As post-battle activities were better organized and increasingly incorporated specialized support personnel, they came to reflect communal identities, institutional reputations and military leadership more than the charity of individuals.^[6]

Eylau: Politically Constructive Use of War’s Destruction

February 8th, 1807 concluded the startlingly bloody battle of Eylau; although not a clear victory for the French, the battle at least provided an opportunity to reflect on war’s brutality, a process which clarified soldiers’ post-battle expectations and affected domestic discourse back in France. In this way, Eylau’s aftermath shaped the French public’s imaginings of war as well as their understanding of their army’s priorities and behaviors. Far from compromising the battle’s political utility, Eylau’s brutality formed the basis of Napoleonic propaganda. By calling particular attention to the enemy’s losses, the burial of the dead, and the treatment of the wounded, the slaughter was framed as both a minor military victory and a major moral victory. The Bulletin of the Grande Armée of March 2nd depicted the sobering number of casualties as a logistical challenge which tested the French Army’s professionalism and humanity. It was immediately made clear to the reader that “[i]t took a lot of work to bury all the dead” and treat the thousands of wounded.^[7] Moreover, the accomplishment of these tasks was shown to be a result of the French Emperor’s personal supervision following the battle. Overall, it turns into a self-laudatory report detailing how well-executed French post-battle efforts had been; swiftly evacuating their own wounded as well as treating enemy wounded humanely providing them with “brandy and bread” as they waited for transport.^[8] The ultimate result of the official narrative was that the horrors of a battlefield crowded with dead and dying were mollified by a celebration of the French military’s (and by extension, the French nation’s) moral fortitude and new assurances of French humanitarianism. This pride in French conduct also implicitly suggested that France’s enemies were either not capable or not interested in acting in such a humane fashion. Truthful or not, the French were not alone in this harsh assessment of their Russian foe; even Russian allies at the time conceded that “the Russians never have the means of taking care of the wounded, nor indeed give themselves much trouble about them.”^[9]  In the months that followed, this narrative of superior French humanity was reinforced through an art commission which ultimately resulted in Gros’s famous painting of the battle (Napoléon sur le champ de bataille d’Eylau), a work which depicted not the climax of the battle but the French Emperor’s surveying its aftermath. This emphasis on war’s destruction was state-sanctioned, artists had been provided with a precise description of the desired scene in physical and emotional terms which combined to present Napoleon as personifying humane sentimentality.^[10]In reality, French efforts to bury the dead and treat the wounded at Eylau may have been earnest but they were not quite as all-encompassing as claimed. According to allied sources, when the Russians reoccupied Eylau, it was still “a revolting spectacle to the senses.”^[11]  Despite the eight days the French had spent burying dead, so many corpses remained that hundreds of peasants had to be brought from Köningsberg to help complete the work and it required several further weeks for Eylau to become livable again.^[12] However, when the French saw Eylau the following summer, it had become an orderly resting place where respects could be paid.^[13] As far as French veterans could tell, Eylau’s battlefield demonstrated the post-battle thoroughness claimed by propaganda. Expectations were being set during the 1807 campaign and, to its soldiers, the Grande Armée appeared capable of treating battlefield dead and wounded humanely even under adverse conditions.

Borodino: Not Meeting Expectations

While revisiting Eylau mostly validated post-battle expectations, the same could not be said of Borodino five years later. Creating some 70,000 dead and wounded in a single day, Borodino’s horrific results were recognized as extraordinary even by hardened veterans; its fields were so covered in men and debris that soldiers described it as a “kingdom of the dead” and a “chaotic arsenal.”^[14] In the days that followed, the unenviable task of reclaiming this “kingdom of the dead” for the world of the living mostly fell upon Junot’s VIII Corps of Westphalians while the rest of the Grande Armée continued its advance towards Moscow. Placed in charge of saving wounded men, burying fallen heroes and salvaging equipment, it might seem that Napoleon was entrusting Junot’s men with an important duty.^[15]However, it was just as likely seen as a punitive task reflecting Junot’s failure to cut off the Russian retreat after Smolensk denying Junot and his men a place in the army’s triumphal entry into Moscow.^[16] Regardless of reasoning, we must consider if these men were capable of adequately addressing the battle’s aftermath. It would be plausible had the VIII Corps been at full strength, but that was not the case after Borodino. In fact, taking into account killed, wounded, missing and detached units, as few as 1,500 men might have been on hand immediately following the battle.^[17] As a result, addressing post-battle tasks in a timely manner was going to be extraordinarily difficult.^[18] Moreover, surrounded by tormenting cries, “unbearable” smells, and hostile Cossacks, the former battlefield was anything but a pleasant post-battle rest.^[19] Besides the physical discomforts, there were also tasks that were ethically uncomfortable such as numerous mercy killings, “a duty of compassion” encouraged by officers.^[20]  The sight of overwhelmed surgeons, wounded without bandages and treated without transport, made the army’s support services seem “neglected.”^[21] The final deficiency came from the truncated time allotted to post-battle duties since the VIII Corps only remained five miserable days on the field before dispersing to guard the army’s rear.^[22] The result was a few “unfortunate ones” left behind were still to be seen as the Westphalians prepared to depart.^[23]

Fifty-Two Days After: Returning to Borodino 

When the retreating soldiers of the Grande Armée returned seven weeks later, former battlefields were not at the forefront of their minds. According to Ségur, the recognition of Borodino was not instantaneous, it was only after a confused moment that “the cry ‘This is the field of the great battle!’ formed a long and sad murmur” along the column.^[24] This scene did more than surprise soldiers, it invalidated assumptions about the army’s treatment of the wounded and dead after battle. Far from recognizing any large-scale burial efforts, to many the field seemed to be unchanged aside from its “vast solitude” and decay.^[25] The “gloomy thoughts” which pervaded the retreating army during this momentrevealed not only horror but also outlined soldiers’ expectations of care, sense of military community, and nationalist feelings.^[26] One common post-battle expectation, expressed through a repeated emphasis on the exact number of days since the battle, suggested that soldiers assumed that far from being abandoned after a week’s time, post-battle tasks could be completed over a much longer time frame if needed.^[27] Faced with a disillusioning panorama, soldiers’ reflections also reaffirmed their beliefs in the ideals of military comradeship and the nation. In this vein, Fain used the mournful scene to express a nationalist connection to the dead, suggesting that the unfulfilled aspirations of the fallen caused the self-conscious living to feel shame. Having not achieved victory, soldiers now “passed their graves walking carefully, fearing that the earth would become burdensome for them under the steps of our retreat.”^[28] Echoing Fain’s sentiment, Ségur described the battlefield as a “vast tomb” which the living were now compelled to abandon having failed to bring meaning to the dead’s sacrifice.^[29] Seemingly, the only comfort left to those viewing this scarred battleground was that they did not dwell there for long. This was a time for passing reflection but not visitation; Ségur noted that “[n]obody stopped: the cold, the hunger, the enemy were pressing; we only turned our heads as we marched, to throw a sad and final look.”^[30] There were relatively few men who actually left the column to explore the battlefield at this time ^[31]  Dismay at the state of the battlefield was a feeling shared by the army’s highest ranking officers as well as the rank and file. After groaning at the field’s disarray, Napoleon and his entourage reportedly made a mournful salute to the dead as passing soldiers paraded in closed ranks while struggling not trip on half-buried corpses.^[32]  It was an emotionally charged scene which left witnesses pondering “the feelings that flowed through the Emperor’s soul at that moment!” and if they could be that different from those of the common soldier.

The Suffering of the Wounded and Abandoned Survivors

At Borodino, it was not only the corpses which revealed the shortcomings of post-battle work, the suffering of the wounded also exemplified unmet expectations. Despite all the pre-campaign preparations, it was apparent that Borodino’s wounded were left in a horrific predicament. In its immediate aftermath the fortunate few crowded dressing stations, some managed to drag themselves to cover, and the immobilized simply risked being trampled.^[33]  Almost two months later, conditions for the wounded were still far from adequate and soldiers became less forgiving about what they observed. The army’s capacity for medical care being overwhelmed in the immediate aftermath of battle was understandable, but the sordid state of affairs weeks later was less so. Although many wounded had been evacuated to a nearby abbey that place appeared “more terrifying than the battlefield.”^[34] There, Fezensac found “nothing more than a vast cemetery” where the wounded had “been left without medicines, without food, and without any help.”^[35] Ségur is just as damning, seeing it as a purgatory and a “spectacle even more dreadful than that of the battlefield,” where “death seemed to pursue these victims.”^[36]  At this moment, any mistreatment of the wounded appeared plausible, even including “a terrible rumor” which said the hospital was to be blown up along with all its patients.^[37]  However, the most popular tales concerning Borodino’s wounded came not from its crowded hospitals but instead concerned abandoned wounded left to survive unaided in the desolate wilderness of the battlefield. Rumors of these unfortunates varied in their details but included men devolving into “wild animals” or dramatic scenes of men confronting the returning army or even reproaching Napoleon personally.^[38]  Certainly, many remained skeptical of these rumors which so starkly contrasted with the post-battle attentiveness propagandized during prior campaigns and unsurprisingly, official communiques omitted the return visit to the battlefield of Borodino leaving soldiers to relay their observations to the public themselves.^[39]

Assigning Blame: Critiquing Remembrances and Defending French Military Authorities

The discrepancy between expectations and the realities observed at Borodino and who was responsible was a post-war controversy. Ségur suggested that French military authorities mostly provided “inexecutable orders…given from too high up and too far away” during the campaign.^[40] However, criticism of the army did not go unanswered. After the war, Gaspard Gourgaud vigorously defended the army’s reputation by contradicting the worst reports other memoirists which he attributed to romantic imagination.^[41]  Instead, he asserted that “all the wounded had been recovered” in the days following Borodino and that “everything that was on the battlefield had been picked up” before the army’s return.^[42]  Additionally, the horrific hospital conditions that others described were deemed an unwarranted “charge against the military administration” which had issued detailed orders organizing the treatment of the wounded.^[43]  Overall, Gourgaud would have preferred tales of Frenchmen’s “active humanity” instead of narratives focused on repugnant sights and distasteful acts.^[44] Eventually, a duel between Gourgaud and Ségur proved that these disagreements were capable of spilling blood as well as ink. Beyond discrepancies in individual recollections, post-battle acts had a continued political significance long after the wars ended reflecting how the potent force of militarism in nineteenth-century politics had elevated the importance of the army’s reputation and soldiers’ conduct.

Conclusions

All this is to suggest that despite our fascination with the passions of combat, it was the aftermath of fighting with its disillusioning visuals and time for reflections which brought into focus soldiers’ perspectives on the nature of war, death, comradeship, and the nation. Clearly, a set of expectations for post-battle care – idealized or not, realistic or not, consciously understood or not – existed during the Coalition Wars; at the same time, as the scale of war increased, the labor and organization required to fulfill these expectations increased proportionally. In this post-battle narrative, 1812 stood out not just as a moment of defeat for the Grande Armée but an event which shook confidence in its military administration, support services and its moral superiority so strongly asserted in preceding years. Ultimately, while the action of combat provides an enthralling narrative, it was always a fleeting experience; in contrast, the post-battle scenes soldiers encountered disappeared more slowly and soldiers had the time to study and reflect upon what they observed. The battlefield after battle was when “[t]he imagination [had] cooled, personal danger no longer constrain[ed] compassion and the [humanity of the enemy] reappear[ed]” leaving the soldier to ponder ethics and identity.^[45]  As such, overlooking post-battle experiences or using them only to underline the brutality of a particular battle risks missing an integral part of war’s long-term effect on soldiers and society.

---

Alex Belovsky is a fifth year Ph.D. student studying the history of early modern Europe.  He is primarily interested in the domestic history of France during the Revolutionary and Napoleonic eras.  Specifically, his work has focused on the French state’s changing relationship with provincial France during the Napoleonic period. 

Title Image: “Dead Soldiers of the Grande Armée” by Christian Wilhelm von Faber du Faur. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Endnotes:

[1] Dominique Jean Larrey, Memoirs of Military Surgery, and Campaigns of the French Armies, on the Rhine, in Corsica, Catalonia, Egypt, and Syria; at Boulogne, Ulm, and Austerlitz; in Saxony, Prussia, Poland, Spain, and Austria, vol. 1 (Baltimore: Joseph Cushing, 1814), 23–24.

[2] While Larrey’s criteria for triage only began being implemented during the 1806 campaign, an earlier version of ‘Napoleonic triage’ had seen use since 1797. The earlier version of triaging prioritized the interests of the army over those of individual soldiers, the goal being saving officers and those soldiers who could return to service soon.

[3]  James W. Wengert, “Jean Dominique Larrey (1766–1842): Surgeon of the Guard,” Military Medicine 144, no. 6 (June 1, 1979): 414.

[4]  Étienne Girardon, Organisation Et Service Du Train: Fonctionnement Des Services Auxiliaires de L’armée, Conformément Au Programme D’enseignement Des Élèves-officiers de la Division Du Train À L’École Militaire de Versailles (Nancy: Berger-Levrault, 1895), 3-4.

[5] Between 1807 and 1812, military crews for the French supply system grew from around 2,500 to around 10,000 men. Including other specialized trains such as artillery, there were some 21,500 men serving in a support capacity on the eve of the Russian Campaign.  Girardon, Organisation Et Service Du Train. ; Richard K. Riehn, 1812: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign (New York : McGraw-Hill, 1990), 149–50.

[6] This is to say that prior to the nineteenth century, praise of post-battle acts tended to be centered on the acts of individuals but during the Coalition Wars praiseworthy post-battle actions were increasingly interpreted in collective terms.

[7] Adrien Pascal, Les bulletins de la Grande Armée: précédés des rapports sur l’armée française depuis Toulon jusqu’à Waterloo, extraits textuellement du Moniteur et des Annales de l’Empire, histoire militaire du général Bonaparte et de l’empereur Napoléon, avec des notes historiques et biographiques sur chaque officier, vol. 3–4 (Paris: M. Lesage, 1841), 119–20.

[8] Pascal, 3–4:120.

[9] Robert Thomas Wilson, Life of General Sir Robert Wilson, ed. H. Randolph, vol. 2 (London: John Murray, 1862), 89.

[10] Dominique-Vivant Denon, “Nouvelles Étrangères: Prusse. Thorn, 17 mars,” Le Journal de Paris, April 2, 1807, 559.

[11] Wilson, Life of General Sir Robert Wilson, 2:115.

[12] Wilson, 2:114.

[13] Jean-Roch Coignet, Les Cahiers du capitaine Coignet 1799 – 1815 publiés d’après le manuscrit original par Lorédan Larchey(Hachette, 1889), 218.

[14]  Jakob Walter, The Diary of a Napoleonic Foot Soldier, ed. Marc Raeff (New York: Penguin Books, 1993), 54–55.; Louis Joseph Vionnet, With Napoleon’s Guard in Russia: The Memoirs of Major Vionnet, 1812, trans. Johnathan North (Casemate Publishers, 2013).

[15] See Napoleon’s order of September 12^th, 1812 (19202) – Napoleon Bonaparte, Correspondance de Napoléon Ier, vol. 24 (Imprimerie Impériale, 1868), 251.

[16] This pessimistic take on post-battle duties was more apparent when the VIII Corps was given the same responsibilities after the Battle of Smolensk.  See Sam Mustafa, Napoleon’s Paper Kingdom: The Life and Death of Westphalia, 1807–1813. (New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2017), 254.

[17] Johann Friedrich Ernst von Borcke, Kriegerleben des Johann von Borcke: weiland kgl. preuss. oberstlieutenants. 1806-1815 (E.S. Mittler und sohn, 1888), 188.

[18] This was not the only time during the 1812 Campaign that manpower shortages seemed to delay post-battle work.  Requests were made to employ Russian prisoners to assist in burying the dead after the Battle of Smolensk due to too few men having been allocated to the task.  See Agathon-Jean-François baron Fain, “(No. 5) Lettre du Major-général A l’empereur,” in Manuscrit de mil huit cent douze: contenant le précis des événemens de cette année, pour servir à l’histoire de l’empereur Napoléon, vol. 1 (Paris: Delaunay, 1827), 416.

[19] Förster Fleck, Förster Flecks Kriegsfahrt und Gefangenschaft in Russland, 1812-1814 (Gebr. Gerstenberg, 1911), 12.

[20] Borcke, Kriegerleben des Johann von Borcke, 189.

[21] Borcke, 188–89.

[22] Mustafa, Napoleon’s Paper Kingdom, 257–58.

[23] Borcke, Kriegerleben des Johann von Borcke, 189.

[24] Philippe-Paul comte de Ségur, Un aide de camp de Napoléon: La campagne de Russie (Firmin-Dicot et cie, 1894), 242.

[25] Paul Britten Austen, 1812: The Great Retreat (Barnsley, South Yorkshire: Frontline Books, 2012), p.45.

[26] Bavarian lieutenant von Muraldt as quoted in Austen, p.44-45.

[27] Eugène Labaume, Relation Circonstanciés de la Campagne de Russie, en 1812, 4th ed. (Paris: C. L. F. Panckoucke, 1815), 276.; Adrien Bourgogne, Mémoires du sergent Bourgogne (1812-1813), ed. Paul Cottin and Maurice Hénault (Paris: Librairie Hachette, 1905), 49.

[28] Agathon-Jean-François baron Fain, Manuscrit de mil huit cent douze: contenant le précis des événemens de cette année, pour servir à l’histoire de l’empereur Napoléon, vol. 2 (Delaunay, 1827), 258.

[29] Ségur, Un aide de camp de Napoléon, 242.

[30] Ibid.

[31] Raimond-Emery-Philippe-Josephe de Fezensac, The Russian Campaign, 1812, trans. Lee B. Kennett (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009), 55.

[32] Fleck, Förster Flecks Kriegsfahrt und Gefangenschaft in Russland, 1812-1814, 18.

[33] Vionnet, With Napoleon’s Guard in Russia.

[34] Fleck, Förster Flecks Kriegsfahrt und Gefangenschaft in Russland, 1812-1814, 18.

[35] Fezensac, The Russian Campaign, 1812, 56.

[36] Ségur, Un aide de camp de Napoléon, 244.

[37] Fleck, Förster Flecks Kriegsfahrt und Gefangenschaft in Russland, 1812-1814, 18.

[38] Heinrich von Roos, 1812. Souvenirs d’un Médecin de La Grande Armée, 1913, 115.; Austen, 1812, p.45.

[39] Gaspard Gourgaud, Napoléon et la grande armée en Russie ou Examen critique de l’ouvrage de M. le Comte Ph. de Ségur, vol. 2 (Société typographique, 1825), 107.; Fezensac, The Russian Campaign, 1812, 55.

[40] Ségur, Un aide de camp de Napoléon, 244.

[41] Gourgaud, Napoléon et la grande armée en Russie ou Examen critique de l’ouvrage de M. le Comte Ph. de Ségur, 2:106–7.

[42] Ibid., 2:108–9.

[43] Ibid., 2:107.

[44] Ibid., 2:109–10.

[45] Louis Florimond Fantin des Odoards, Journal du général Fantin des Odoards (E. Plon, Nourrit et Cie, 1895), 328.