It was not just the cold or the dogged spirit of the Russian people that forced Napoleon and his army to retreat

Russia Against Napoleon: The True Story of the Campaigns of War and Peace. By Dominic Lieven. Viking; 618 pages; $35.95. Allen Lane; £30. Buy from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk

FEW wars in modern history produced national myths more durable than the Napoleonic wars in Europe. The battles of Waterloo and Borodino, at the dawn of European nationalism, are part of British and Russian culture. In Russia's case, the impact is amplified by Leo Tolstoy's “War and Peace”, which portrays the campaign as a true people's war that owed its success to the elemental patriotism of the Russian nation and the wisdom and intuition of Mikhail Kutuzov, its great general. Tolstoy, writes Dominic Lieven, was not only a wonderful novelist. He was also the mythmaker who shaped the perception of Russia's role for years to come.

Like any other country Russia prides itself on its military victories. In Mr Lieven's view, the strange thing about Tolstoy's version of history is not that it exaggerates Russia's role in that era but that it plays it down. Tolstoy ends his novel's war narrative in December 1812 with the remnants of the French army forced to retreat across the Russian border. Russia's subsequent two-year-long campaign in the heart of Europe, which included the battle of Leipzig and ended in Paris, was of little interest to Tolstoy whose concern was national consciousness not imperial glory.

But it is of great interest to Mr Lieven, one of the ablest historians of imperial Russia. He dedicates half of “Russia Against Napoleon” (which was published this week in America though it came out in Britain a few months ago) to those events. Conducted outside Russia's borders by commanders with distinctly foreign names, the 1813-14 campaign does not fit with national mythology. But it demonstrates the strength of Russia's multi-ethnic empire and the depth of its integration in European affairs and security.

As he pursued his empire's geopolitical interests, Alexander I managed to rally support from Prussia and Austria, presenting Russia's invasion of Europe as liberation. In creating this favourable impression of the campaign, the tsar was helped not only by propaganda but by the remarkably disciplined behaviour of his troops who neither stole nor marauded as they advanced through Europe.

The central point made by Mr Lieven's witty and impeccably scholarly book is that Russia owed its victory not to the courage of its national spirit or to the coldness of the 1812 winter, as some French sources have argued, but to its military excellence, superior cavalry, the high standards of Russia's diplomatic and intelligence services and the quality of its European elite. Thanks to the intelligence he obtained, Alexander was able to outwit Napoleon, anticipating his invasion.

Napoleon's intention was not to occupy Russia or overthrow Alexander by stirring a domestic revolt against him. He was counting on his superior force and his own military genius to destroy the Russian army swiftly and force the tsar to accept his peace terms. Alexander's intention, on the other hand, was to destroy Napoleon and break his Grand Armée. Mikhail Barclay de Tolly, his war minister, devised and implemented the strategy of drawing Napoleon deep inside Russia, away from his supply base, exhausting his army by defensive war and then attacking.

Mr Lieven is no less gripping when he writes about the crucial issue of logistics. Vast financial and diplomatic resources were mobilised to feed the Russian soldiers and their horses thousands of kilometres from Russia's borders. He zooms in and out of battlefields, examines the quality of uniforms and the conditions of weapons, creating an historic canvas that is both overwhelming and meticulous.

The irony is that although Mr Lieven contests Tolstoy's artistic version of history, his book also revels in it, as its subtitle suggests. After all, at least in the first part of the book, he is writing about people and events brought to life by Tolstoy's genius. He even has a personal connection to the story. An ancestor of his was Christoph von Lieven, a bright young general in Alexander's entourage. Christoph's mother was confidante and friend to Empress Marie, Alexander's mother, and a prototype for Tolstoy's Anna Scherer whose St Petersburg soirée opens the novel.

Although Mr Lieven does not popularise history, he inevitably touches the nerve points of modern power politics. His book is a timely reminder of Russia's deep-rooted interest in European security and its past ability to pursue these interests with grace, honour, discipline and professionalism—virtues that are harder to reconstruct than any battle.