path: root/14290-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14290 ***

  LONDON: G. BELL & SONS, LIMITED,
  PORTUGAL STREET, KINGSWAY, W.C.
  CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL & CO.
  NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
  BOMBAY: A.H. WHEELER & CO.





  THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I



  INCLUDING NEW MATERIALS FROM THE BRITISH OFFICIAL RECORDS




  BY

  JOHN HOLLAND ROSE, LITT.D. LATE SCHOLAR OF CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE




    "Let my son often read and reflect on history: this is the only
    true philosophy."--_Napoleon's last Instructions for the King of
    Rome_.





  VOL. II





  LONDON G. BELL AND SONS, LTD 1910
  POST 8VO EDITION,
  ILLUSTRATED



  First Published, December 1901.
  Second Edition, revised, March 1902.
  Third Edition, revised, January 1903.
  Fourth Edition, revised,September 1907.
  Reprinted, January 1910.


  CROWN 8VO EDITION
  First Published, September 1904.
  Reprinted, October 1907;
  July 1910.






  CONTENTS



  CHAPTER
     XXII. ULM AND TRAFALGAR
    XXIII. AUSTERLITZ
     XXIV. PRUSSIA AND THE NEW CHARLEMAGNE
      XXV. THE FALL OF PRUSSIA
     XXVI. THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM: FRIEDLAND
    XXVII. TILSIT
   XXVIII. THE SPANISH RISING
     XXIX. ERFURT
      XXX. NAPOLEON AND AUSTRIA
     XXXI. THE EMPIRE AT ITS HEIGHT
    XXXII. THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN
   XXXIII. THE FIRST SAXON CAMPAIGN
    XXXIV. VITTORIA AND THE ARMISTICE
     XXXV. DRESDEN AND LEIPZIG
    XXXVI. FROM THE RHINE TO THE SEINE
   XXXVII. THE FIRST ABDICATION
  XXXVIII. ELBA AND PARIS
    XXXIX. LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS
       XL. WATERLOO
      XLI. FROM THE ELYSÉE TO ST. HELENA
     XLII. CLOSING YEARS

           APPENDIX I: LIST OF THE CHIEF APPOINTMENTS
             AND DIGNITIES BESTOWED BY NAPOLEON

           APPENDIX II: THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO

           INDEX


MAPS AND PLANS

  BATTLE OF ULM
  BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ
  BATTLE OF JENA
  BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND
  BATTLE OF WAGRAM
  CENTRAL EUROPE AFTER 1810
  CAMPAIGN IN RUSSIA
  BATTLE OF VITTORIA
  THE CAMPAIGN OF 1813
  BATTLE OF DRESDEN
  BATTLE OF LEIPZIG
  THE CAMPAIGN OF 1814                              _to face_
  PLAN OF THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN
  BATTLE OF LIGNY
  BATTLE OF WATERLOO, about 11 o'clock a.m.    _to face_
  ST. HELENA









  THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXII

ULM AND TRAFALGAR


"Napoleon is the only man in Europe that knows the value of
time."--Czartoryski.


Before describing the Continental campaign which shattered the old
European system to its base, it will be well to take a brief glance at
the events which precipitated the war of the Third Coalition. Even at
the time of Napoleon's rupture with England, his highhanded conduct
towards the Italian Republic, Holland, Switzerland, and in regard to
the Secularizations in Germany, had exposed him to the hostility of
Russia, Sweden, and Austria; but as yet it took the form of secret
resentment. The last-named Power, under the Ministry of Count Cobenzl,
had relapsed into a tame and undignified policy, which the Swedish
Ambassador at Vienna described as "one of fear and hope--fear of the
power of France, and hope to obtain favours from her."[1] At Berlin,
Frederick William clung nervously to neutrality, even though the
French occupation of Hanover was a threat to Prussia's influence in
North Germany. The Czar Alexander was, at present, wrapt up in home
affairs; and the only monarch who as yet ventured to show his dislike
of the First Consul was the King of Sweden. In the autumn of 1803
Gustavus IV. defiantly refused Napoleon's proposals for a
Franco-Swedish alliance, baited though they were with the offer of
Norway as an eventual prize for Sweden, and a subsidy for every
Swedish warship serving against England. And it was not the dislike of
a proud nature to receive money which prompted his refusal; for
Gustavus, while in Germany, hinted to Drake that he desired to have
pecuniary help from England for the defence of his province of
Pomerania.[2]

But a doughtier champion of European independence was soon to enter
the field. The earlier feelings of respect and admiration which the
young Czar had cherished towards Napoleon were already overclouded,
when the news of the execution of the Duc d'Enghien at once roused a
storm of passion in his breast. The chivalrous protection which he
loved to extend to smaller States, the guarantee of the Germanic
system which the Treaty of Teschen had vested in him, above all, his
horror at the crime, led him to offer an emphatic protest. The Russian
Court at once went into mourning, and Alexander expressed both to the
German Diet and to the French Government his indignation at the
outrage. It was ever Napoleon's habit to return blow with blow; and he
now instructed Talleyrand to reply that in the D'Enghien affair he had
acted solely on the defensive, and that Russia's complaint "led him to
ask if, at the time when England was compassing the assassination of
Paul I., the authors of the plot had been known to be one league
beyond the [Russian] frontiers, every effort would not have been made
to have them seized?" Never has a poisoned dart been more deftly sped
at the weak spot of an enemy's armour. The Czar, ever haunted by the
thought of his complicity in a parricidal plot, was deeply wounded by
this malicious taunt, and all the more so because, as the death of
Paul had been officially ascribed to a fit, the insult could not be
flung back.[3] The only reply was to break off all diplomatic
relations with Napoleon; and this took place in the summer of 1804.[4]

Yet war was not to break out for more than a year. This delay was due
to several causes. Austria could not be moved from her posture of
timid neutrality. In fact, Francis II. and Cobenzl saw in Napoleon's
need of a recognition of his new imperial title a means of assuring a
corresponding change of title for the Hapsburg Dominions. Francis had
long been weary of the hollow dignity of Elective Emperor of the Holy
Roman Empire. The faded pageantry of Ratisbon and Frankfurt was all
that remained of the glories of the realm of Charlemagne: the medley
of States which owned him as elected lord cared not for the decrees of
this ghostly realm; and Goethe might well place in the mouth of his
jovial toper, in the cellar scene of "Faust," the words:

                    "Dankt Gott mit jedem Morgen
  Dass Ihr nicht braucht für's Röm'sche Reich zu sorgen!"

In that bargaining and burglarious age, was it not better to build a
more lasting habitation than this venerable ruin? Would not the
hereditary dominions form a more lasting shelter from the storm? Such
were doubtless the thoughts that prompted the assumption of the title
of Hereditary Emperor of Austria (August 11th, 1804). The
letter-patent, in which this change was announced, cited as parallels
"the example of the Imperial Court of Russia in the last century and
of the new sovereign of France." Both references gave umbrage to
Alexander, who saw no parallel between the assumption of the title of
Emperor by Peter the Great and the game of follow-the-leader played by
Francis to Napoleon.[5]

Prussian complaisance to the French Emperor was at this time to be
expected. Frederick William III. reigned over 10,000,000 subjects; he
could marshal 248,000 of the best trained troops in Europe, and his
revenue was more fruitful than that of the great Frederick. Yet the
effective power of Prussia had sadly waned; for her policy was now
marked by an enervating indecision. In the autumn of 1804, however,
the Prussian King was for a time spurred into action by the news that
Sir George Rumbold, British envoy at Hamburg, had been seized on the
night of October 24th, by French troops, and carried off to Paris.
This aggression upon the Circle of Lower Saxony, of which Frederick
William was Director, aroused lively indignation at Berlin; and the
King at once wrote to Napoleon a request for the envoy's liberation as
a proof of his "friendship and high consideration ...a seal on the past
and a pledge for the future."

To this appeal Napoleon returned a soothing answer that Sir George
would at once be released, though England was ever violating the
rights of neutrals, and her agents were conspiring against his life.
The Emperor, in fact, saw that he had taken a false step, which might
throw Prussia into the arms of England and Russia. For this latter
Power had already (May, 1804) offered her armed help to the Court of
Berlin in case the French should violate any other German
territory.[6] But the King was easily soothed; and when, in the
following spring, Napoleon sent seven Golden Eagles of the Legion of
Honour to the Court of Berlin, seven Black Eagles of the renowned
Prussian Order were sent in return--an occurrence which led Gustavus
IV. to return his Order of the Black Eagle with the remark that he
could not recognize "Napoleon and his like" as comrades in an Order of
Chivalry and Religion.[7] Napoleon's aim was achieved: Prussia was
sundered from any league in which Gustavus IV. was a prominent member.

Thus, the chief steps in the formation of the Third Coalition were
taken by Sweden, England, and Russia. Early in 1804 Gustavus proposed
a League of the Powers; and, on the advent of the Pitt Ministry to
office, overtures began to pass between St. Petersburg and London for
an alliance. Important proposals were made by Pitt and our Foreign
Minister, the Earl of Harrowby, in a note of June 26th, 1804, in which
hopes were expressed that Russia, England, Austria, Sweden, and if
possible Prussia, might be drawn together.[8] Alexander and
Czartoryski were already debating the advantages of an alliance with
England. Their aims were certainly noble. International law and the
rights of the weak States bordering on France were to be championed,
and it was suggested by Czartoryski that disputes should be settled,
not by force, but by arbitration.[9]

The statement of these exalted ideas was intrusted to a special envoy
to London, M. Novossiltzoff, who propounded to Pitt the scheme of a
European polity where the States should be independent and enjoy
institutions "founded on the sacred rights of humanity." With this aim
in view, the Czar desired to curb the power of Napoleon, bring back
France to her old limits, and assure the peace of Europe on a firm
basis, namely on the principle of the _balance of power_. Pitt and
Lord Harrowby having agreed to these proposals, details were discussed
at the close of 1804. None of the allies were, in any case, to make a
separate peace; and England (said M. Novossiltzoff) must not only use
her own troops, but grant subsidies to enable the Powers to set on
foot effective forces.

This last sentence claims special notice, as it disposes of the
well-worn phrase, that the Third Coalition was _built up_ by Pitt's
gold. On the contrary, Russia was the first to set forth the need of
English subsidies, which Pitt was by no means eager to supply. The
phrase used by French historians is doubtless correct in so far as
English gold enabled our allies to arm efficiently; but it is wholly
false if it implies that the Third Coalition was merely trumped up by
our money, and that the Russian, Austrian, and Swedish Governments
were so many automatic machines which, if jogged with coins, would
instantly supply armies to the ready money purchaser. This is
practically the notion still prevalent on the Continent; and it is
clearly traceable to the endless diatribes against Pitt's gold with
which Napoleon seasoned his bulletins, and to the caricatures which he
_ordered to be drawn_. The following was his direction to his Minister
of Police, Fouché: "Have caricatures made--an Englishman purse in
hand, _entreating the various Powers to take his money. This is the
real direction to give the whole business._" How well he knew mankind:
he rightly counted on its gullibility where pictures were concerned;
and the direction which he thus gave to public opinion bids fair to
persist, in spite of every exposure of the trickery.[10]

But, to return to the plans of the allies, Holland, Switzerland, and
Italy were to be liberated from their "enslavement to France," and
strengthened so as to provide barriers to future aggressions: the King
of Sardinia was to be restored to his mainland possessions, and
receive in addition the Ligurian, or Genoese, Republic.[11]

On all essential topics the British Government was in full accord with
the views of the Czar, and Pitt insisted on the need of a system of
international law which should guarantee the Continent against further
rapacious acts. But Europe was not destined to find peace on these
principles until after ten years of desolating war.

Various causes hindered the formation of this league. On January 2nd,
1805, Napoleon sent to George III. an offer of peace; and those
persons who did not see that this was a device for discovering the
course of negotiations believed that he ardently desired it. We now
know that the offer was despatched a week after he had ordered
Missiessy to ravage the British West Indies.[12] And, doubtless, his
object was attained when George III. replied in the speech from the
throne (January 15th) that he could not entertain the proposal without
reference to the Powers with whom he was then engaged in confidential
intercourse, and especially the Emperor of Russia. Yet the British
Government discussed with the Czar the basis for a future pacification
of Europe; and the mission of Novossiltzoff at midsummer to Berlin, on
his way to Paris, was the answer, albeit a belated one, to Napoleon's
New Year's pacific appeal. We shall now see why this delay occurred,
and what acts of the French Emperor finally dispelled all hopes of
peace.

The delay was due to differences between Russia and England respecting
Malta and our maritime code. The Czar insisted on our relinquishing
Malta and relaxing the rigours of the right of search for deserters
from our navy. To this the Pitt Ministry demurred, seeing that Malta
was our only means of protecting the Mediterranean States, and our
only security against French aggressions in the Levant, while the
right of searching neutral vessels was necessary to prevent the
enfeebling of our navy.[13] Negotiations were nearly broken off even
after a treaty between the two Powers had been brought to the final
stage on April 11th, 1805; but in July (after the Czar had recorded
his solemn protest against our keeping Malta) it was ratified, and
formed the basis for the Third Coalition. The aims of the allies were
to bring about the expulsion of French troops from North Germany; to
assure the independence of the Republics of Holland and Switzerland;
and to reinstate the King of Sardinia in Piedmont. Half a million of
men were to be set in motion, besides the forces of Great Britain; and
the latter Power, as a set-off to her lack of troops, agreed to
subsidize her allies to the extent of; £1,250,000 a year for every
100,000 men actually employed in the war. It was further stipulated
that a European Congress at the close of the war should endeavour to
fix more surely the principles of the Law of Nations and establish a
federative system. Above all, the allies bound themselves not to
hinder the popular wish in France respecting the form of government--a
clause which deprived the war of the Third Coalition of that
monarchical character which had pervaded the league of 1793 and, to a
less extent, that of 1799.[14]

What was the attitude of Napoleon towards this league? He certainly
took little pains to conciliate the Czar. In fact, his actions towards
Russia were almost openly provocative. Thus, while fully aware of the
interest which Alexander felt in the restoration of the King of
Sardinia, he sent the proposal that that unlucky King should receive
the Ionian Isles and Malta as indemnities for his losses, and that too
when Russia looked upon Corfu as her own. To this offer the Czar
deigned not a word in reply. Napoleon also sent an envoy to the Shah
of Persia with an offer of alliance, so as to check the advances of
Russia on the shores of the Caspian.[15]

On the other hand, he used every effort to allure Prussia, by secretly
offering her Hanover, and that too as early as the close of July.[16]
For a brief space, also, he took some pains to conciliate Austria.
This indeed was necessary: for the Court of Vienna had already
(November 6th, 1804) framed a secret agreement with Russia to make war
on Napoleon if he committed any new aggression in Italy or menaced any
part of the Turkish Empire.[17] Yet this act was really defensive.
Francis desired only to protect himself against Napoleon's ambition,
and, had he been treated with consideration, would doubtless have
clung to peace.

For a time Napoleon humoured that Court, even as regards the changes
now mooted in Italy. On January 1st, 1805, he wrote to Francis,
stating that he was about to proclaim Joseph Bonaparte King of Italy,
if the latter would renounce his claim to the crown of France, and so
keep the governments of France and Italy separate, as the Treaty of
Lunéville required; that this action would enfeeble his (Napoleon's)
power, but would carry its own recompense if it proved agreeable to
the Emperor Francis.

But it soon appeared that Joseph was by no means inclined to accept
the crown of Lombardy if it entailed the sacrifice of all hope of
succeeding to the French Empire. He had already demurred to _le vilain
titre de roi_, and on January 27th announced his final rejection of
the offer. Napoleon then proposed to Louis that he should hold that
crown in trust for his son; but the suggestion at once rekindled the
flames of jealousy which ever haunted Louis; and, after a violent
scene, the Emperor thrust his brother from the room.

Perhaps this anger was simulated. He once admitted that his rage only
mounted this high--pointing to his chin; and the refusals of his
brothers were certainly to be expected. However that may be, he now
resolved to assume that crown himself, appointing as Viceroy his
step-son, Eugène Beauharnais. True, he announced to the French Senate
that the realms of France and Italy would be kept separate: but
neither the Italian deputies, who had been summoned to Paris to vote
this dignity to their master, nor the servile Senate, nor the rulers
of Europe, were deceived. Thus, when in the early summer Napoleon
reviewed a large force that fought over again in mimic war the battle
of Marengo; when, amidst all the pomp and pageantry that art could
devise, he crowned himself in the cathedral of Milan with the iron
circlet of the old Lombard Kings, using the traditional formula: "God
gave it me, woe to him who touches it"; when, finally, he incorporated
the Ligurian Republic in the French Empire, Francis of Austria
reluctantly accepted the challenges thus threateningly cast down, and
began to arm.[18] The records of our Foreign Office show conclusively
that the Hapsburg ruler felt himself girt with difficulties: the
Austrian army was as yet ill organized: the reforms after which the
Archduke Charles had been striving were ill received by the military
clique; and the sole result had been to unsettle rather than
strengthen the army, and to break down the health of the Archduke.[19]
Yet the intention of Napoleon to treat Italy as a French province was
so insultingly paraded that Francis felt war to be inevitable, and
resolved to strike a blow while the French were still entangled in
their naval schemes. He knew well the dangers of war; he would have
eagerly welcomed any sign of really peaceful intentions at Paris; but
no signs were given; in fact, French agents were sent into Switzerland
to intrigue for a union of that land with France. Here again the pride
of the Hapsburgs was cut to the quick, and they disdained to submit to
humiliations such as were eating the heart out of the Prussian
monarchy.

The Czar, too, was far from eager for war. He had sent Novossiltzoff
to Berlin _en route_ for Paris, in the hope of coming to terms with
Napoleon, when the news of the annexation of Genoa ended the last
hopes of a compromise. "This man is insatiable," exclaimed Alexander;
"his ambition knows no bounds; he is a scourge of the world; he wants
war; well, he shall have it, and the sooner the better," The Czar at
once ordered all negotiations to be broken off. Novossiltzoff, on July
10th, declared to Baron Hardenberg, the successor of Haugwitz at the
Prussian Foreign Office, that Napoleon had now passed the utmost
limits of the Czar's patience; and he at once returned his French
passports. In forwarding them to the French ambassador at Berlin,
Hardenberg expressed the deep regret of the Prussian monarch at the
breakdown of this most salutary negotiation--a phrase which showed
that the patience of Berlin was nearly exhausted.[20]

Clearly, then, the Third Coalition was not cemented by English gold,
but by Napoleon's provocations. While England and Russia found great
difficulty in coming to an accord, and Austria was arming only from
fear, the least act of complaisance on his part would have unravelled
this ill-knit confederacy. But no such action was forthcoming. All his
letters written in North Italy after his coronation are puffed up with
incredible insolence. Along with hints to Eugène to base politics on
dissimulation and to seek only to be feared, we find letters to
Ministers at Paris scorning the idea that England and Russia can come
to terms, and asserting that the annexation of Genoa concerns England
alone; but if Austria wants to find a pretext for war, she may now
find it.

Then he hurries back to Fontainebleau, covering the distance from
Turin in eighty-five hours; and, after a brief sojourn at St. Cloud,
he reaches Boulogne. There, on August the 22nd, he hears that Austria
is continuing to arm: a few hours later comes the news that Villeneuve
has turned back to Cadiz. Fiercely and trenchantly he resolves this
fateful problem. He then sketches to Talleyrand the outlines of his
new policy. He will again press, and this time most earnestly, his
offer of Hanover to Prussia as the price of her effective alliance
against the new coalition. Perhaps this new alliance will strangle the
coalition at its birth; at any rate it will paralyze Austria.
Accordingly, he despatches to Berlin his favourite aide-de-camp,
General Duroc, to persuade the King that his alliance will save the
Continent from war.[21]

Meanwhile the Hapsburgs were completely deceived. They imagined
Napoleon to be wholly immersed in his naval enterprise, and
accordingly formed a plan of campaign, which, though admirable against
a weak and guileless foe, was fraught with danger if the python's
coils were ready for a spring. As a matter of fact, he was far better
prepared than Austria. As late as July 7th, the Court of Vienna had
informed the allies that its army would not be ready for four months;
yet the nervous anxiety of the Hapsburgs to be beforehand with
Napoleon led them to hurry on war: and on August 9th they secretly
gave their adhesion to the Russo-British alliance.

Then, too, by a strange fatuity, their move into Bavaria was to be
made with a force of only 59,000 men, while their chief masses, some
92,000 strong, were launched into Italy against the strongholds on the
Mincio. To guard the flanks of these armies, Austria had 34,000 men in
Tyrol; but, apart from raw recruits, there were fewer than 20,000
soldiers in the rest of that vast empire. In fact, the success of the
autumn campaign was known to depend on the help of the Russians, who
were expected to reach the banks of the Inn before the 20th of
October, while it was thought that the French could not possibly reach
the Danube till twenty days later.[22] It was intended, however, to
act most vigorously in Italy, and to wage a defensive campaign on the
Danube.

Such was the plan concocted at Vienna, mainly under the influence of
the Archduke Charles, who took the command of the army in Italy, while
that of the Danube was assigned to the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack,
the new Quarter-Master-General. This soldier had hitherto enjoyed a
great reputation in Austria, probably because he was the only general
who had suffered no great defeat. Amidst the disasters of 1797 he
seemed the only man able to retrieve the past, and to be shut out from
command by Thugut's insane jealousy of his "transcendent
abilities."[23] Brave he certainly was: but his mind was always swayed
by preconceived notions; he belonged to the school of "manoeuvre
strategists," of whom the Duke of Brunswick was the leader; and he now
began the campaign of 1805 with the fixed purpose of holding a
commanding military position. Such a position the Emperor Francis and
Mack had discovered in the weak fortress of Ulm and the line of the
River Iller. Towards these points of vantage the Austrians now began
to move.

The first thing was to gain over the Elector of Bavaria. The Court of
Vienna, seeking to persuade or compel that prince to join the
Coalition, made overtures (September 3rd to 6th) with which he dallied
for a day or two until an opportunity came of escaping to the fortress
of Würzburg. Mack thereupon crossed the River Inn and sought, but in
vain, to cut off the Bavarian troops from that stronghold.
Accordingly, the Austrian leader marched on to Ulm, where he arrived
in the middle of September; and, not satisfied with holding this
advanced position, he pushed on his outposts to the chief defiles of
the Black Forest, while other regiments held the valley of the River
Iller and strengthened the fortress of Memmingen. Doubtless this would
have been good strategy, had his forces been equal in numbers to those
of Napoleon. At that time the Black Forest was the only  physical barrier
between France and Southern Germany; the Rhine was then practically a
French river; and, only by holding the passes of that range could the
Austrians hope to screen Swabia from invasion on the side of Alsace.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF ULM]

But Mack forgot two essential facts. Until the Russians arrived, he
was too weak to hold so advanced a position in what was hostile
ground, now that Bavaria and the other South German States obeyed
Napoleon's summons to range themselves on his side. Further, he was
dangerously exposed on the north, as a glance at the map will show.
Ulm and the line of the Iller formed a strong defence against the
south-west: but on the north that position is singularly open: it can
be turned from the valleys of the Main, the Neckar, and the Altmühl,
all of which conduct an invader to the regions east of Ulm. Indeed, it
passes belief how even the Aulic Council could have ignored the
dangers of that position. Possibly the fact that Ulm had been stoutly
held by Kray in 1796 now induced them to overrate its present
importance; but at that time the fortified camp of Ulm was the central
knot of vast operations, whereas now it was but an advanced
outpost.[24] If Francis and his advisers were swayed by historical
reminiscences it is strange that they forgot the fate of Melas in
Piedmont. The real parallel had been provided, not by Kray, but by the
general who was cut off at Marengo. Indeed, in its broad outlines, the
campaign of Ulm resembles that of Marengo. Against foes who had thrust
their columns far from their base, Napoleon now, as in 1800,
determined to deal a crushing blow. On the part of the Austrians we
notice the same misplaced confidence, the same lack of timely news,
and the same inability to understand Napoleon's plan until his
dispositions are complete; while his strategy and tactics in 1805
recall to one's mind the masterly simplicity of design, the subtlety
and energy of execution, which led up to his triumph in the plains of
Piedmont.

Meanwhile the allies were dissipating their strength. A Russian corps,
acting from Corfu as a base, and an English expedition from Malta,
were jointly to attack St. Cyr in the south of Italy, raise the
country at his rear and compel him to surrender. This plan was left
helplessly flapping in the air by a convention which Napoleon imposed
on the Neapolitan ambassador. On September 21st Talleyrand induced
that envoy to guarantee the neutrality of the kingdom of Naples, all
belligerents being excluded from its domains. Consequently St. Cyr's
corps evacuated that land and brought a welcome reinforcement to
Masséna on the Mincio. Equally skilful was Napoleon's action as
regards Hanover. On that side also the allies planned a formidable
expedition. From the fortress of Stralsund in Swedish Pomerania, a
force of Russians and Swedes, which Gustavus burned to command, was to
march into Hanover, and, when strengthened by an Anglo-Hanoverian
corps, drive the French from the Low Countries. It is curious to
contrast the cumbrous negotiations concerning this expedition--the
quarrels about the command, the anxiety at the outset lest Villeneuve
should perhaps sail into the Baltic, the delays of the British War
Office, the remonstrances of the Czar, and the efforts to avert the
jealousy of Prussia--with the serene indifference of Napoleon as to
the whole affair. He knew full well that the war would not be decided
by diversions at the heel of Italy or on the banks of the Ems, but by
the shock of great masses of men on the Danube. He denuded Hanover of
French troops, except at its southern fortress of Hameln, so that he
could overwhelm the levies of Austria before the Russians came up. In
brief, while the Coalition sought, like a Briareus, to envelop him on
all sides, he prepared to deal a blow at its heart.

As the first part of the campaign depended almost entirely on problems
of time and space, it will be well to follow the chief movements of
the hostile forces somewhat closely. The Austrian plan aimed at
forestalling the French in the occupation of Swabia; and its apparent
success puffed up Mack with boundless confidence. At Ulm he threw up
extensive outworks to strengthen that obsolete fortress, extended his
lines to Memmingen far on the south, and trusted that the Muscovites
would come up long before the French eagles hovered above the sources
of the Danube. But at that time the Russian vanguard had not reached
Linz in Upper Austria, and not before October 10th did it appear on
the banks of the River Inn.[25]

Far from being the last to move, the French Emperor outstripped his
enemies in the speed of his preparations. Whereas the Austrians
believed he would not be able to reach the Danube in force before
November 10th, he intended to have 200,000 men in Germany by September
18th. But he knew not at first the full extent of his good fortune: it
did not occur to him that the Austrians would cross the Inn: all he
asks Talleyrand, on August 23rd, is that such news may appear in the
"Moniteur" as will gain him twenty days and give General Bertrand time
to win over Bavaria, while "I make my 200,000 men pirouette into
Germany." On August 29th the _Army of England_ became the _Grand
Army_, composed of seven corps, led by Bernadotte, Marmont, Davoust,
Soult, Lannes, Ney and Augereau. The cavalry was assigned to Murat;
while Bessières was in command of the Imperial Guard, now numbering
some 10,000 men.

Already the greater part of this vast array was beginning to move
inland; Davoust and Soult left some regiments, 30,000 strong, to guard
the flotilla, and Marmont detached 14,000 men to defend the coasts of
Holland; but the other corps on September 2nd began their march
Rhine-wards in almost their full strength. On that day Bernadotte
broke up his cantonments in Hanover, and began his march towards the
Main, on which so much was to turn. The Elector of Hesse-Cassel now
espoused Napoleon's cause. Thus, without meeting any opposition,
Bernadotte's columns reached Würzburg at the close of September; there
the Elector of Bavaria welcomed the Marshal and gave him the support
of his 20,000 troops; and at that stronghold he was also joined by
Marmont.

In order to mislead the Austrians, Napoleon remained up to September
23rd at St. Cloud or Paris; and during his stay appeared a _Senatus
Consultum_ ordering that, after January 1st, 1806, France should give
up its revolutionary calendar and revert to the Gregorian. He then set
out for Strassburg, as though the chief blows were to be dealt through
the passes of the Black Forest at the front of Mack's line of defence;
and, to encourage that general in this belief, Murat received orders
to show his horsemen in the passes held by Mack's outposts, but to
avoid any serious engagements. This would give time for the other
corps to creep up to the enemy's rear. Mack, meanwhile, had heard of
the forthcoming junction of the French and Bavarians at Würzburg, but
opined that it threatened Bohemia.[26]

Accordingly, he still clung to his lines, contenting himself with
sending a cavalry regiment to observe Bernadotte's movements; but
neither he nor his nominal chief, the Archduke Ferdinand, divined the
truth. Indeed, so far did they rely on the aid of the Russians as to
order back some regiments sent from Italy by the more sagacious
Archduke Charles; but 11,000 troops from Tyrol reached the Swabian
army. That force was now spread out so as to hold the bridges of the
Danube between Ingolstadt and Ulm; and on October 7th the Austrians
were disposed as follows: 18,000 men under Kienmayer were guarding
Ingolstadt, Neuburg, Donauwörth, Günzburg, and lesser points, while
Mack had about 35,000 men at Ulm and along the line of the Iller; the
arrival of other detachments brought the Austrian total to upwards of
70,000 men. Against this long scattered line Napoleon led greatly
superior forces.[27] The development of his plans proceeded apace.
Though Prussia had proclaimed her strict neutrality, he did not
scruple to violate it by sending Bernadotte's corps through her
principality of Ansbach, which lay in their path. He charged
Bernadotte to "offer many assurances favourable to Prussia, and
testify all possible affection and respect for her--and then rapidly
cross her land, asserting the impossibility of doing anything else."
Accordingly, that Marshal was lavish in his regrets and apologies, but
ordered his columns to defile past the battalions and squadrons of
Prussia, that were powerless to resent the outrage.[28]

The news of this trespass on Prussian territory reached the ears of
Frederick William at a critical time, when the Czar sent to Berlin a
kind of ultimatum, intimating that, even if Prussia deserted the cause
of European independence, Russian troops must nevertheless pass
through part of Prussian Poland. Stung by this note from his usually
passive demeanour, the King sent off an answer that such a step would
entail a Franco-Prussian alliance against the violators of his
territory, when the news came that Napoleon had actually done at
Ansbach what Alexander had announced his intention of doing in the
east. The revulsion of feeling was violent: for a short space the King
declared he would dismiss Duroc and make war on Napoleon for this
insult, but in the end he called a cabinet council and invited the
Czar to come to Berlin.[29]

While the Gallophil counsellors, Haugwitz and Lombard, were using all
their arts to hinder the Prusso-Russian understanding, the meshes were
being woven fast around Mack and the Archduke Ferdinand. Bernadotte's
corps, after making history in its march, was detached to the
south-east so as to hold in check the Russian vanguard, and to give
plenty of room to the troops that were to cut off Mack from Austria, a
move which may be compared with the march of Bonaparte to Milan before
he essayed the capture of Melas. Both steps bespeak his desire to have
ample space at his back before circling round his prey.

On October 6th the corps of Soult and Lannes, helped by Murat's
powerful cavalry, cut the Austrian lines on the Danube at Donauwörth,
and gained a firm footing on the right bank. Over the crossing thus
secured far in Mack's rear, the French poured in dense array, and
marched south and south-west towards the back of the Austrian
positions, while Ney's corps marched to seize the chief bridges over
the Danube.

A study of the processes of Mack's brain at this time is not without
interest. It shows the danger of intrusting the fate of an army to a
man who cannot weigh evidence. Mack was not ignorant of the course of
events, though his news generally came late. The mischief was that his
brain warped the news. On October 6th he wrote to Vienna that the
enemy seemed about to aim a blow at his communications: on October
7th, when he heard of the loss of Donauwörth, he described it as an
unfortunate event, which no one thought to be possible. The Archduke
now urged the need of an immediate retreat towards Munich, and marched
in an easterly direction on Günzburg: another Austrian division of
8,000 men moved on Wertingen, where, on October 8th, it was furiously
attacked by the troops of Murat and Lannes. At first the Imperialists
firmly kept their ranks; but the unequal contest closed with a hasty
flight, which left 2,000 men in the hands of the French Then Murat,
pressing on through the woods, cut off Mack's retreat to Augsburg. Yet
that general still took a cheerful view of his position. On that same
day he wrote from Günzburg that, as soon as the enemy had passed over
the Lech, he would cross the Danube and cut their communications at
Nördlingen. He wrote thus when Ney's corps was striving to seize the
Danube bridges below Ulm. If Mack were to march north-east against the
French communications it was of the utmost importance for him to hold
the chief of these bridges: but Ney speedily seized three of them, and
on the 9th was able to draw closer the toils around Ulm.

From his position at Augsburg the French Emperor now directed the
final operations; and, as before Marengo, he gave most heed to that
side by which he judged his enemy would strive to break through, in
this case towards Kempten and Tyrol. This would doubtless have been
Mack's safest course; for he was strong enough to brush aside Soult,
gain Tyrol, seal up its valleys against Napoleon, and carry
reinforcements to the Archduke Charles. But he was still intent on his
Nördlingen scheme, even after the loss of the Danube bridges exposed
his march thither to flank attacks from the four French corps now
south of the river. Nevertheless, Napoleon's miscalculation of Mack's
plans, or, as Thiers has striven to prove, a misunderstanding of his
orders by Murat, gave the Austrians a chance such as fortune rarely
bestows.[30]

In spite of Ney's protests, one of his divisions, that led by Dupont,
had been left alone to guard the northern bank of the Danube, a
position where it might have been overwhelmed by an enterprising foe.
What is more extraordinary, Dupont, with only 6,000 men, was charged
to advance on Ulm, and carry it by storm. On the 11th he accordingly
advanced against Mack's fortified camp north of that city. The
Austrians met him in force, and, despite the utmost heroism of his
troops, finally wrested the village of Hasslach from his grasp; later
in the day a cloud of their horsemen, swooping round his right wing,
cut up his tired troops, took 1,000 prisoners, and left 1,500 dead and
wounded on the field. Among the booty was found a despatch of Napoleon
ordering Dupont to carry Ulm by storm--which might have shown them
that the French Emperor believed that city to be all but deserted.[31]
In truth, Napoleon's miscalculation opened for Mack a path of safety;
and had he at once marched away to the north, the whole aspect of
affairs might have changed. The Russian vanguard was on the banks of
the Inn: all the French, except the relics of Dupont's division, were
south of the Danube, and a few vigorous blows at their communications
might have greatly embarrassed troops that had little artillery, light
stores of ammunition, and lived almost entirely on the produce of the
country. We may picture to ourselves the fierce blows that, in such a
case, Frederick the Great would have rained on his assailants as he
wheeled round on their rear and turned their turning movements. With
Frederick matched against Napoleon, the Lech and the Danube would have
witnessed a very cyclone of war.

But Mack was not Frederick: and he had to do with a foe who speedily
made good an error. On October 13th, when Mack seemed about to cut off
the French from the Main, he received news through Napoleon's spies
that the English had effected a landing at Boulogne, and a revolution
had broken out in France. The tidings found easy entrance into a brain
that had a strange bias towards pleasing falsities and rejected
disagreeable facts. At once he leaped to the conclusion that the moves
of Soult, Murat, Lannes, Marmont, and Ney round his rear were merely
desperate efforts to cut back a way to Alsace. He therefore held fast
to his lines, made only feeble efforts to clear the northern road, and
despatched reinforcements to Memmingen. The next day brought other
news; that Memmingen had been invested by Soult; that Ney by a
brilliant dash across the Danube at Elchingen had routed an Austrian
division there, and was threatening Ulm from the north-east; and that
the other French columns were advancing from the south-east. Yet Mack,
still viewing these facts in the twilight of his own fancies, pictured
them as the efforts of despair, not as the drawing in of the hunter's
toils.

He was now almost alone in his reading of events. The Archduke
Ferdinand, though nominally in supreme command, had hitherto deferred
to Mack's age and experience, as the Emperor Francis enjoined. But he
now urged the need of instantly marching away to the north with all
available forces. Still Mack clung to his notion that it was the
French who were in sore straits; and he forbade the evacuation of Ulm;
whereupon the Archduke, with Schwarzenberg, Kollowrath, Gyulai, and
all whose instincts or rank prompted and enabled them to defy the
madman's authority, assembled 1,500 horsemen and rode off by the
northern road. It was high time; for Ney, firmly established at
Elchingen, was pushing on his vanguard towards the doomed city: Murat
and Lannes were charged to support him on the north bank, while across
the river Marmont, and further south Soult, cut off the retreat on
Tyrol.

At last the scales fell from Mack's eyes. Even now he protested
against the mere mention of surrender. But again he was disappointed.
Ney stormed the Michaelsberg north of Ulm, a position on which the
Austrians had counted; and on October 17th the hapless commander
agreed to terms of capitulation, whereby his troops were to march out
and lay down their arms in six days' time, if an Austro-Russian army
able to raise the siege did not come on the scene. These conditions
were afterwards altered by the captor, who, wheedling his captive with
a few bland words, persuaded him to surrender on the 20th on condition
that Ney and his corps remained before Ulm until the 25th. This was
Mack's last offence against his country and his profession; his assent
to this wily compromise at once set free the other French corps for
offensive operations; and that too when every day was precious to
Austria, Russia, and Prussia.

On October 20th the French Emperor, with a brilliant staff, backed by
the solid wall of his Guard and flanked by eight columns of his
troops, received the homage of the vanquished. First came their
commander, who, bowed down by grief, handed his sword to the victor
with the words, "Here is the unfortunate Mack." Then there filed out
to the foot of the Michaelsberg 20,000 foot and 3,000 horse, who laid
down their arms before the Emperor, some with defiant rage, the most
part in stolid dejection, while others flung them away with every sign
of indecent joy.[32] As if the elements themselves conspired to
enhance the brilliance of Napoleon's triumph, the sun, which had been
obscured for days by storm-clouds and torrents of rain, now shone
brightly forth, bathing the scene in the mild radiance of autumn,
lighting up the French forces disposed on the slopes of that natural
amphitheatre, while it cast deep shadows from the long trail of the
vanquished beneath. The French were electrified by the sight: the
fatigues of their forced marches through the dusty heats of September,
and the slush, swamps, and torrents of the last few days were all
forgotten, and they hailed with jubilant shouts the chief whose
sagacity had planned and achieved a triumph hitherto unequalled in the
annals of war. "Our Emperor," said they, "has found out a new way of
making war: he no longer makes it with our arms, but with our
legs."[33]

Meanwhile the other Austrian detachments were being hunted down. Only
a few men escaped from Memmingen into Tyrol: the division, which, if
properly supported, might have cut a way through to Nördlingen three
days earlier, was now overwhelmed by the troops of Murat and Lannes;
out of 13,000 foot-soldiers very few escaped. Most of the horsemen
succeeded in joining the Archduke Ferdinand, on whose track Murat now
flung himself with untiring energy. The _beau sabreur_ swept through
part of Ansbach in pursuit, came up with Ferdinand near Nuremberg, and
defeated his squadrons, their chief, with about 1,700 horse and some
500 mounted artillerymen, finally reaching the shelter of the Bohemian
Mountains. All the rest of Mack's great array had been engulfed.

Thus closed the first scene of the War of the Third Coalition. Hasty
preparations, rash plans, and, above all, Mack's fatal ingenuity in
reading his notions into facts--these were the causes of a disaster
which ruined the chances of the allies. The Archduke Charles, who had
been foiled by Masséna's stubborn defence, was at once recalled from
Italy in order to cover Vienna; and, worst of all, the Court of Berlin
now delayed drawing the sword.

Yet, even amidst the unstinted boons that she showered on Napoleon by
land, Fortune rudely baffled him at sea. When he was hurrying from Ulm
towards the River Inn, to carry the war into Austria, he heard that
the French navy had been shattered. Trafalgar was fought the day after
Mack's army filed out of Ulm. The greatest sea-fight of the century
was the outcome of Napoleon's desire that his ships should carry
succour to his troops in Italy. For this voyage the Emperor was about
to substitute Admiral Rosily for Villeneuve: and the unfortunate
admiral, divining that resolve, sought by a bold stroke to retrieve
his fortunes. He put to sea, and Trafalgar was the result. It would be
superfluous to describe this last and most splendid of Nelson's
exploits; but a few words as to the bearing of this great victory on
the events of that time may not be out of place. It is certain that
Villeneuve at Trafalgar fought under more favourable conditions than
in the conflict of July 22nd. He had landed his very numerous sick,
his crews had been refreshed and reinforced, and, above all, the worst
of the Spanish ships had been replaced by seaworthy and serviceable
craft. Yet out of the thirty-three sail of the line, he lost eighteen
to an enemy that numbered only twenty-seven sail; and that fact alone
absolves him from the charge of cowardice in declining to face
Cornwallis and Calder in July with ships that were cumbered with sick
and badly needed refitting.

Then again: it is often stated that Trafalgar saved England from
invasion. To refute this error it is merely needful to remind the
reader that all immediate fear of invasion was over, when, at the
close of August, Napoleon wheeled the Grand Army against Austria. Not
until the Continent was conquered could the landing in Kent become
practicable. That opportunity occurred two years later, after Tilsit;
then, in truth, the United Kingdom was free from panic because
Trafalgar had practically destroyed the French navy. For these
islands, then, the benefits of Trafalgar were prospective. But, for
the British Empire, they were immediate. Every French, Dutch, and
Spanish colony that now fell into our hands was in great measure the
fruit of Nelson's victory, which heralded the second and vaster stage
of imperial growth.

Finally, the decisive advantage which Britain now gained over Napoleon
at sea compelled him, if he would realize the world-wide schemes ever
closest to his heart, to adopt the method of warfare against us which
he had all along contemplated as an effective alternative. As far back
as February, 1798, he pointed out that there were three ways of
attacking and ruining England, either a direct invasion, or a French
control of North Germany which would ruin British commerce, or an
expedition to the Indies. After Trafalgar the first of these
alternatives was impossible, and the last receded for a time into the
background. The second now took the first place in his thoughts; he
could only bring England to his feet and gain a world-empire by
shutting out her goods from the whole of the Continent, and thus
condemning her to industrial strangulation. In a word, Trafalgar
necessitated the adoption of the Continental System, which was built
up by the events now to be described.

    Note to the Third Edition.--An American critic has charged me with
    inconsistency in saying that the Third Coalition was not built up
    by English gold, because I state (p. 5) that the first advances
    were made by England to Russia. I ought to have used the phrase
    "the first _written_ proposals that I have found were made," etc.
    Czartoryski's "Memoirs" (vol. ii., chs. ii.-iii.), to which I
    referred my readers for details, show clearly that Alexander and
    his advisers looked on a rupture with France as inevitable, but
    wished to temporize for some three months or so, until certain
    matters were cleared up; they therefore cautiously sounded the
    position at Vienna and London. This passage from Czartoryski (vol.
    ii., ch. iii.) proves that Russia wanted the English alliance:

    "After the diplomatic rupture consequent upon the execution of the
    Duc d'Enghien, it became indispensable to come to an understanding
    with the only Power, except Russia, which thought herself strong
    enough to contend with France--to ascertain as thoroughly as
    possible what were her inclinations and designs, the principles of
    her policy, and those which she could be led to adopt in certain
    contingencies. It would have been a great advantage to obtain the
    concurrence in our views of so powerful a State as England, and to
    strive with her for the same objects; but for this it was
    necessary, not only to make sure of her present inclinations, but
    to weigh well the possibilities of the future after the death of
    George III. and the fall of the Pitt Ministry. We had to make
    England understand that the wish to fight Napoleon was not in
    itself sufficient to establish an indissoluble bond between her
    Government and that of St. Petersburg...."

    In "F.O.," Russia, No. 55, is a despatch of our ambassador at St.
    Petersburg, Admiral Warren, of June 30, 1804, in which he reports
    Czartoryski's concern at rumours of negotiations between England
    and France: "The prince [Czartoryski] remarked that he could not
    suppose, after what had passed between the two Courts, and the
    manner in which the Emperor [Alexander] had explained himself to
    England, and after the measures which Russia had since proposed,
    that Great Britain would make a peace at once by herself."

    Of these earlier negotiations I have found no trace; but obviously
    the first proposals for an alliance must have come from Russia.
    Sweden was the first to propose a monarchical league against
    Napoleon. (See my article in the "Revue Napoléonienne" for June,
    1902.)


       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIII

AUSTERLITZ


After the capitulation of Ulm, the French Emperor marched against the
Russian army, which, as he told his troops, _English gold had brought
from the ends of the earth._ As is generally the case with coalitions,
neither of the allies was ready in time or sent its full quota. In
place of the 54,000 which Alexander had covenanted to send to
Austria's support, he sent as yet only 46,000; and of these 8,000 were
detached into Podolia in order to watch the warlike moves of the
Turks, whom the French had stirred up against the Muscovite.

But Alexander had another and weightier excuse for not denuding his
realm of troops, namely, the ambiguous policy of Prussia. Up to the
middle of October this great military Power clung to her somewhat
threatening neutrality, an attitude not unlike that of the
Scandinavian States, which, in 1691, remained deaf to the entreaties
of William of Orange to take up the cause of European freedom against
Louis XIV., and were dubbed the Third Party. It would seem, however,
that the Prussian King had some grounds for his conduct: he feared the
Polish influence which Czartoryski wielded over the Czar, and saw in
the Russian request for a right of way through Prussian Poland a
deep-laid scheme for the seizure of that territory. Indeed, the
letters of Czartoryski prove that such a plan was pressed forward, and
found much favour with the Czar, though at the last moment he
prudently shelved it.[34]

For a time the hesitations of Prussia were ended by Napoleon's
violation of Ansbach, and by Alexander's frank explanations at
Potsdam; but meanwhile the delays caused by Prussia's suspicions had
marred the Austrian plans. A week's grace granted by Napoleon, or a
week gained by the Russians on their actual marching time, would have
altered the whole situation in Bavaria--and Prussia would have drawn
the sword against France to avenge the insult at Ansbach.

On October 10th Hardenberg informed the Austrian ambassador,
Metternich, that Frederick William was on the point of declaring for
the allies. Nothing, however, was done until Alexander reached
Potsdam, and the first news that he received on his arrival (October
25th) was of the surrender of Ulm. Nevertheless, the influence of the
Czar checkmated the efforts of Haugwitz and the French party, and kept
that Government to its resolve, which on November 3rd took the form of
the Treaty of Potsdam between Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Frederick
William pledged himself to offer the armed mediation of Prussia, and,
if it were refused by Napoleon, to join the allies. The Prussian
demands were as follows: indemnities for the King of Sardinia in
Lombardy, Liguria, and Parma; the independence of Naples, Holland,
Germany, and Switzerland; and the Mincio as Austria's boundary in
Italy.[35]

An envoy was to offer these terms to Napoleon, and to bring back a
definite answer within one month from the time of his departure, and
in the meantime 180,000 Prussians prepared to threaten his flank and
rear. Alexander also secretly pledged himself to use his influence
with George III. to gain Hanover for Frederick William at the close of
the war, England meanwhile subsidizing Prussia and her Saxon allies on
the usual scale. The Czar afterwards accompanied the King and Queen to
the crypt of the Great Frederick, kissed the tomb, and, as he took his
leave of their majesties, cast a significant look at the altar.[36]

Did he fear the peace-loving tendencies of the King, or the treachery
of Haugwitz? It is difficult to see good faith in every detail of the
treaty. Apart from the strange assumption that England would subsidize
Prussia and also give up Hanover, the manner in which the armed
mediation was to be offered left several loopholes for escape. After
the surrender of Ulm, speedy and vigorous action was needed to restore
the balance; yet a month's delay was bargained for. Then, too,
Haugwitz, who was charged with this most important mission, deferred
his departure for ten days on the plea that Prussia's forces could not
be ready before the middle of December. Such was the statement of the
leisurely Duke of Brunswick; but it can scarcely be reconciled with
Frederick William's threat, a month earlier, of immediate war against
the Russians if they entered his lands. Yet now that monarch approved
of the delay. Haugwitz therefore did not set out till November 14th,
and by that time Napoleon was master of Vienna, and the allies were
falling back into Moravia.

We now turn to the scene of war. For the first time in modern history
the Hapsburg capital had fallen into the hands of a foreign foe.
Napoleon now installed himself at the stately palace of Schönbrunn,
while Francis was fleeing to Olmütz and the Archdukes Charles and John
were struggling in the defiles of the Alps to disengage themselves
from the vanguard of Masséna. The march of the French on Vienna, and
thence northwards to Brünn, led to only one incident of general
interest, namely, the filching away from the Austrians of the bridge
over the Danube to the north of Vienna. As it nears the city, that
great river spreads out into several channels, the largest being on
the north. The wooden bridge further up the river having been burnt by
the Russian rearguard, there remained only the bridge or bridges,
opposite the city, on the possession of which Napoleon set much store.
He therefore charged Murat and Lannes to secure them if possible.

Murat was smarting under the Emperor's displeasure for a rash advance
on Vienna which had wellnigh cost the existence of Mortier's corps on
the other bank. Indeed, only by the most resolute bravery did the
remnant of that corps hew its way through overwhelming numbers. Murat,
who should have kept closely in touch with Mortier by a flotilla of
boats, was eager to retrieve his fault, and, with Lannes, Bertrand,
and an officer of engineers, he now approached the first part of the
bridge as if for a parley during an informal armistice which had just
been discussed but not concluded. The French Marshals had disposed the
grenadiers of General Oudinot, a body of men as renowned as their
leader for fighting qualities, behind some thickets that spread along
the southern bank and partly screened the approach. The plank
barricade at the southern end was now thrown down, and the four
Frenchmen advanced. An Austrian mounted sentinel fired his carbine and
galloped away to the main bridge; thereupon the four men advanced,
called to the officer there in command as if for a parley, and stopped
him in the act of firing the gunpowder stored beneath the bridge, with
the assurance that an armistice was, or was about to be, concluded.

Reaching the northern end they repeated their tale, and claimed to see
the commander. While the defenders were hesitating, Oudinot's
grenadiers were rapidly marching forward. As soon as they were seen,
the Austrians prepared once more to fire the bridge. Again they were
implored to desist, as peace was as good as signed. But when the
grenadiers had reached the northern bank, the mask was dropped: fresh
troops were hurrying up and the chance of saving the bridge from their
grasp was now lost. By these means did Murat and Lannes secure an
undisputed passage to the northern bank, for which four years later
the French had desperately to fight. Napoleon was delighted at Murat's
exploit, which greatly furthered his pursuit of the allies, and he at
once restored that Marshal to high favour. But those who placed
gentlemanly conduct above the glamour of a trickster's success were
not slow, even then, to express their disapproval of this act of
perfidy.[37]

The prolonged retreat into Moravia, the unexpected feebleness of the
Hapsburg arms, and the lack of supplies weighed heavily on Alexander's
spirits, as is shown in his letter from Olmütz to the King of Prussia
on November 19th: "Our position is more than critical: we stand almost
alone against the French, who are close on our heels. As for the
Austrian army, it does not exist.... If your armies advance, the whole
position will alter at once."[38] A few days later, however, when
27,000 more Russians were at hand, including his Imperial Guard, the
Czar passed from the depths of depression to the heights of
confidence. The caution of his wary commander, Kutusoff, who urged a
Fabian policy of delay and retreat, now began to weary him. To retire
into northern Hungary seemed ignominious. And though Frederick William
held to his resolve of not drawing the sword before December 15th, and
by that time the Archduke Charles with a large army was expected below
Vienna, yet the susceptible young autocrat spurned the behests of
irksome prudence. In vain did Kutusoff and Schwarzenberg urge the need
of delay and retreat: Alexander gave more heed to the rash counsels of
his younger officers. An advance was ordered on Brünn, and a
successful cavalry skirmish at Wischau confirmed the Czar in his
change from the strategy of Fabius to that of Varro.

Napoleon, who was now at Brünn, had already divined this change in the
temper of his foe, and called back his men with the express purpose of
humouring Alexander's latest mood and tempting him on to a decisive
battle. He saw clearly the advantage of fighting at once. The renewed
offers of an armistice, which he received from the prudent Francis,
might alone have convinced him of this; and they came in time to give
him an argument, telling enough to daunt the Prussian envoy, who was
now drawing near to his headquarters.

After proceeding towards Vienna and being sent back to Brünn, Haugwitz
arrived there on November 29th.[39] Of the four hours' private
conference that ensued with Napoleon we have but scanty records, and
those by Haugwitz himself, who had every reason for warping the truth.
He states that he was received with icy coldness, and at once saw that
the least threat of hostile pressure by Prussia would drive Napoleon
to make a separate peace with Austria. But after the first hour the
Emperor appeared to thaw: he discussed the question of a Continental
peace and laid aside all resentment at Prussia's conduct: finally, he
gave a general assent to her proposals, on two conditions, namely,
that the allied force then in Hanover should not be allowed by Prussia
to invade Holland, and that the French garrison in the fortress of
Hameln, now compassed about by Prussians, should be provisioned. To
both of these requests Haugwitz assented, and pledged the word of his
King, an act of presumption which that monarch was to repudiate.

While exceeding his instructions on this side, Haugwitz did
practically nothing to advance the chief business of his mission.
Either his own fears, or the crafty mixture of threats and flattery
that cajoled so many envoys, led him to neglect the interests of
Prussia, and to play into the hands of the very man whose ambition he
was sent to check. After the interview, when the envoy had retired to
his lodging, Caulaincourt came up in haste to warn him that a battle
was imminent, that his personal safety might be endangered, and that
Napoleon requested him to repair to Vienna, where he might consult
with Talleyrand on affairs of State. Horses and an escort were ready,
and Haugwitz set out for that city, where he arrived on November 30th,
only to find that Talleyrand was strictly forbidden to do more than
entertain him with commonplaces. Thus, the all-important question as
to the action of Prussia's legions was again postponed, even when
150,000 Prussians and Saxons were ready to march against the French
communications.

Napoleon's letter of November 30th to Talleyrand reveals his secret
anxiety at this time. In truth, the crisis was terrible. With a
superior force in front, with the Archdukes Ferdinand and Charles
threatening to raise Bohemia and Hungary on his flanks, while two
Prussian armies were about to throw themselves on his rear, his
position was fully as serious as that of Hannibal before Cannæ, from
which the Carthaginian freed himself only by that staggering blow. Did
that example inspire the French Emperor, or did he take counsel from
his own boundless resources of brain and will? Certain it is that,
after a passing fit of discouragement, he braced himself for a final
effort, and staked all on the effect of one mighty stroke. In order to
hurry on the battle he feigned discouragement and withdrew his lines
from Austerlitz to the Goldbach. Already he had sent General Savary to
the Czar with proposals for a short truce.[40] The word truce now
spelt guile; its offer through Savary, whose hands were stained with
the blood of the Duc d'Enghien, was in itself an insult, and Alexander
gave that envoy the coolest reception. In return he sent Prince
Dolgoruki, the leader of the bellicose youths now high in favour, who
proudly declared to the French Emperor the wishes of his master for
the independence of Europe--adding among other things that Holland
must be free and have Belgium added to it.

This suggestion greatly amused Napoleon, who replied that Russia ought
now to think of her own advantages on the side of Turkey. The answer
convinced the Czar that Napoleon dreaded a conflict in his dangerously
advanced position. He knew not his antagonist's resources. Napoleon
had hurried up every available regiment. Bernadotte's corps was
recalled from the frontier of Bohemia; Friant's division of 4,000 men
was ordered up from Pressburg; and by forced marches it also was nigh
at hand on the night of December 1st, worn with fatigue after covering
an immense space in two days, but ready to do excellent service on the
morrow.[41] By this timely concentration Napoleon raised his forces to
a total of at least 73,000 men, while the enemy founded their plan on
the assumption that Napoleon had less than 50,000, and would scarcely
resist the onset of superior forces.

Their plan was rash, even for an army which numbered about 80,000 men.
The Austrian General Weyrother had convinced the Czar that an
energetic advance of his left wing, which rested on the southern spurs
of the Pratzenberg, would force back Napoleon's right, which was
ranged between the villages of Kobelnitz and Sokelnitz, and so roll up
his long line that stretched beyond Schlapanitz. This move, if
successful, would not only win the day, but decide the campaign, by
cutting off the French from their supplies coming from the south and
driving them into the exhausted lands around Olmütz. Such was
Weyrother's scheme, which enchanted the Czar and moved the fears of
the veteran Kutusoff: it was expounded to the Russian and Austrian
generals after midnight on December the 2nd. Strong in the great
central hill, the Pratzenberg, and the cover of its village at the
foot, the Czar had no fear for his centre: to his right or northern
wing he gave still less heed, as it rested firmly on villages and was
powerful in cavalry and artillery; but his left wing, comprising fully
two-fifths of the allied army, was expected easily to defeat
Napoleon's weak and scattered right, and so decide the day. Kutusoff
saw the peril of massing so great a force there and weakening the
centre, but sadly held his peace.

Napoleon had already divined their secret. In his order of battle he
took his troops into his confidence, telling them that, while the
enemy marched to turn his right, they would expose their flank to his
blows. To announce this beforehand was strangely bold, and it has been
thought that he had the plan from some traitor on the enemy's staff.
No proof of this has been given; and such an explanation seems
superfluous to those who have observed Napoleon's uncanny power of
fathoming his adversary's designs. The idea of withdrawing one wing in
order to tempt the foe unduly to prolong his line on that side, and
then to crush it at the centre, or sever it from the centre, is common
both to Castiglione and Austerlitz. It is true, the peculiarities of
the ground, the ardour of the Russian attack, and the vastness of the
operations lent to the present conflict a splendour and a horror which
Castiglione lacked. But the tactics which won both battles were
fundamentally the same.

He had studied the ground in front of Austerlitz; and the priceless
gift of strategic imagination revealed to him what a rash and showy
leader would be certain to do on that ground;[42] he tempted him to
it, and the announcement of the enemy's plan to the French soldiery
supplied the touch of good comradeship which insured their utmost
devotion on the morrow. At midnight, as he returned from visiting the
outposts, the soldiers greeted him with a weird illumination: by a
common impulse they tore down the straw from their rude shelters and
held aloft the burning wisps on long poles, dancing the while in
honour of the short gray-coated figure, and shouting, "It is the
anniversary of the coronation. Long live the Emperor." Thus was the
great day ushered in. The welkin glowed with this tribute of an army's
heroworship: the frost-laden clouds echoed back the multitudinous
acclaim; and the Russians, as they swung forward their left, surmised
that, after all, the French would stand their ground and fight, whilst
others saw in the flare a signal that Napoleon was once more about to
retreat.

December the 2nd may well be the most famous day of the Napoleonic
calendar: it was the day of his coronation, it was the day of
Austerlitz, and, a generation later, another Napoleon chose it for his
_coup d'état_. The "sun of Austerlitz," which the nephew then hailed,
looked down on a spectacle far different from that which he wished to
gild with borrowed splendour. Struggling dimly through dense banks of
mist, it shone on the faces of 73,000 Frenchmen resolved to conquer or
to die: it cast weird shadows before the gray columns of Russia and
the white-coats of Austria as they pressed in serried ranks towards
the frozen swamps of the Goldbach. At first the allies found little
opposition; and Kienmayer's horse cleared the French from Tellnitz and
the level ground beyond. But Friant's division, hurrying up from the
west, restored the fight and drove the first assailants from the
village. Others, however, were pressing on, twenty-nine battalions
strong, and not all the tenacious bravery of Davoust's soldiery
availed to hold that spot. Nor was it necessary. Napoleon's plan was
to let the allied left compromise itself on this side, while he rained
the decisive blows at its joint with the centre on the southern spur
of the Pratzenberg.

For this reason he reduced Davoust to defensive tactics, for which his
stubborn methodical genius eminently fitted him, until the French
centre had forced the Russians from the plateau. Opposite or near that
height he had posted the corps of Soult and Bernadotte, supporting
them with the grenadiers of Oudinot and the Imperial Guard.
Confronting these imposing forces was the Russian centre, weakened by
the heavy drafts sent towards Tellnitz, but strong in its position and
in the experience of its leader Kutusoff. Caution urged him to hold
back his men to the last moment, until the need of giving cohesion to
the turning movement led the Czar impatiently to order his advance.
Scarcely had the Russians descended beyond Pratzen when they were
exposed to a furious attack. Vandamme, noted even then as one of the
hardest hitters in the army, was leading his division of Soult's corps
up the northern slopes of the plateau; by a sidelong slant his men cut
off a detachment of Russians in the village, and, aided by the brigade
of Thiébault, swarmed up the hill at a speed which surprised and
unsteadied its defenders. Oudinot's grenadiers and the Imperial Guard
were ready to sustain Soult: but the men of his corps had the glory of
seizing the plateau and driving back the Russians. Yet these returned
to the charge. Alexander and Kutusoff saw the importance of the
heights, and brought up a great part of their reserves. Soon the
divisions of  Vandamme and St. Hilaire were borne back;
and it needed all the grand fighting powers of their troops to hold up
against the masses of howling Russians. For two hours the battle there
swayed to and fro; and Thiébault has censured Napoleon for the lack of
support, and Soult for his apathy, during this soldiers' battle.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ]

But the Emperor was awaiting the development of events on the wings. A
sharp fight of all arms was raging on the plain further to the north.
There the allies at first gained ground, the Austrian horse well
maintaining its old fame: but the infantry of Lannes' corps, supported
by powerful artillery ranged on a small conical hill, speedily checked
their charges; the French horse, marshalled by Murat and Kellermann
somewhat after the fashion of the British cavalry at Waterloo, so as
to support the squares and dash through the intervals in pursuit, soon
made most effective charges upon the dense squadrons of the allies,
and finally a general advance of Lannes and Murat overthrew the
wavering lines opposite and chased them back towards the small town of
Austerlitz.

Thus by noon the lines of fighting swerved till they ranged along the
course of the Littawa stream, save where the allies had thrust forward
a long and apparently successful wedge beyond Tellnitz. The Czar saw
the danger of this almost isolated wing, and sought to keep touch with
it; but the defects of the allied plan were now painfully apparent.
Napoleon, having the interior lines, while his foes were scattered
over an irregular arc, could reinforce his hard-pressed right. There
Davoust was being slowly borne back, when the march of Duroc with part
of the Imperial Guard restored the balance on that side. The French
centre also was strengthened by the timely arrival of part of
Bernadotte's corps. That Marshal detached a division towards the
northern slopes of the plateau; for he divined that there his master
would need every man to deal the final blows.[43]

In truth, Alexander and Kutusoff were struggling hard to regain the
Pratzenberg. Four times did the Muscovites fling themselves on the
French centre, and not without some passing gleams of success. Here
occurred the most famous cavalry fight of the war. The Russian Guards,
mounted on superb horses, had cut up two of Vandamme's battalions,
when Rapp rode to their rescue with the chasseurs of the French
Imperial Guard. These choice bodies of horsemen met with a terrible
shock, which threw the Russians into disorder. Rallied by other
squadrons, these now overthrew their assailants and seemed about to
overpower them, when Bessières with the heavy cavalry of the Guard
fell on the flank of the Muscovite horse and drove their lines, horse
and foot, into the valley beyond.

Assured of his centre, Napoleon now launched Soult's corps down the
south-western spurs of the plateau upon the flank and rear of the
allied left: this unexpected onset was decisive: the French, sweeping
down the slopes with triumphant shouts, cut off several battalions on
the banks of the Goldbach, scattered others in headlong flight towards
Brünn, and drove the greater part down to the Lake of Tellnitz. Here
the troubles of the allies culminated. A few gained the narrow marshy
gap between the two lakes; but dense bodies found no means of escape
save the frozen surface of the upper lake. In some parts the ice bore
the weight of the fugitives; but where they thronged pell-mell, or
where it was cut up by the plunging fire of the French cannon on the
heights, crowds of men sank to destruction. The victors themselves
stood aghast at this spectacle; and, for the credit of human nature be
it said, many sought to save their drowning foes. Among others, the
youthful Marbot swam to a floe to help bring a Russian officer to
land, a chivalrous exploit which called forth the praise of Napoleon.
The Emperor brought this glorious day to a fitting close by visiting
the ground most thickly strewn with his wounded, and giving directions
for their treatment or removal. As if satisfied with the victory, he
gave little heed to the pursuit. In truth, never since Marlborough cut
the Franco-Bavarian army in twain at Blenheim, had there been a battle
so terrible in its finale, and so decisive in its results as this of
the three Emperors, which cost the allies 33,000 men and 186 cannon.

The Emperors Alexander and Francis fled eastwards into the night.
Between them there was now a tacit understanding that the campaign was
at an end. On that night Francis sent proposals for a truce; and in
two days' time Napoleon agreed to an armistice (signed on December
6th) on condition that Francis would send away the Russian army and
entirely exclude that of Prussia from his territories. A contribution
of 100,000,000 francs was also laid upon the Hapsburg dominions. On
the next day Alexander pledged himself to withdraw his army at once;
and Francis proceeded to treat for peace with Napoleon. This was an
infraction of the treaties of the Third Coalition, which prescribed
that no separate peace should be made.

Under the circumstances, the conduct of the Hapsburgs was pardonable:
but the seeming break-up of the coalition furnished the Court of
Berlin with a good reason for declining to bear the burden alone. It
was not Austerlitz that daunted Frederick William; for, after hearing
of that disaster, he wrote that he would be true to his pledge given
on November 3rd. But then, on the decisive day (December 15th), came
the news of the defection of Austria, the withdrawal of Alexander's
army, and the closing of the Hapsburg lands to a Prussian force. These
facts absolved Frederick William from his obligations to those Powers,
and allowed him with perfect good faith to keep his sword in the
scabbard. The change, it is true, sadly dulled the warlike ardour of
his army; but it could not be called desertion of Russia and
Austria.[44] The disgrace came later, when, on Christmas Day, Haugwitz
reached Berlin, and described to the King and Ministers his interview
with Napoleon in the palace of Schönbrunn, and the treaty which the
victor then and there offered to Prussia at the sword's point.

For most men a great victory such as Austerlitz would have brought a
brief spell of rest, especially after the ceaseless toils and
anxieties of the previous fortnight. Yet now, after ridding himself of
all fear of Austria, Napoleon at once used every device of his subtle
statecraft to dissolve the nascent coalition. And Fortune had willed
that, when flushed with triumph, he should have to deal with a
timorous time-server.

It is the curse of a policy of keeping up a dainty balance in a
hurricane that it unmans the balancer, until at last the peacemaker
resembles a juggler. A decade of compromise and evasion of
difficulties had enfeebled the spirit of Prussia, until the hardest
trial for her King was to take any step that could not be retraced. He
had often spoken "feelingly, if not energetically," of the
predicaments of his position between France, England, and Russia.[45]
And, as in the case of that other _bon père de famille_, Louis XVI.,
whom Nature framed for a farmhouse and Fate tossed into a revolution,
his lack of foresight and resolution took the heart out of his
advisers and turned statesmen into trimmers. Even before the news of
Austerlitz reached the ears of Talleyrand and Haugwitz at Vienna, the
bearer of Prussia's ultimatum was posing as the friend of France. On
all occasions he wore the cordon of the Legion of Honour; and while
the hosts of East and West were in the death-grapple on the
Pratzenberg, he strove to convince the French Foreign Minister that
the Prussians had entered Hanover only in order to keep the peace in
North Germany; that, as Russians had traversed Prussian territory, the
French would, of course, be equally free to do so; that Frederick
William objected to the descent of any English force in Hanover, which
belonged _de facto_ to France; and finally that the Treaty of Potsdam
was not a treaty at all, but merely a declaration with the "offer of
Prussia's good offices and of mediation, but without any mingling of
hostile intentions." Well might Talleyrand write to Napoleon: "I am
very satisfied with M. Haugwitz."[46]

Napoleon's victory over Prussian diplomacy was therefore won, even
before the lightning-stroke of Austerlitz blasted the Third Coalition.
Haugwitz began his conference with the victor at Schönbrunn on
December 13th, by offering Frederick William's congratulations on his
triumph at Austerlitz, to which the Emperor replied by a sarcastic
query whether, if the result of that battle had been different, he
would have spoken at all about the friendship of his master.[47] After
thus disconcerting the envoy and upbraiding him with the Treaty of
Potsdam, Napoleon unmasked his battery by offering Prussia the
Electorate of Hanover in return for the comparatively petty sacrifices
of Ansbach to Bavaria, and Cleves and Neufchâtel to France. For the
loss of these outlying districts Prussia could buy that long-coveted
land.[48] The envoy was dazzled by this glittering offer, and by
others that followed. The conqueror proposed an offensive and
defensive alliance, whereby France and Prussia mutually guaranteed
their lands along with prospective additions in Germany and Italy; and
the Court of Berlin was also to uphold the independence of Turkey.

Such were the terms that Napoleon peremptorily required Haugwitz to
sign within a few hours: and the bearer of Prussia's ultimatum on
December 15th signed this Treaty of Schönbrunn, which degraded the
would-be arbitress of Europe to her former position of well-fed
follower of France. This was the news which Haugwitz brought back to
his astonished King. His reception was of the coolest; for Frederick
William was an honest man, who sought peace, prosperity, and the
welfare of his people, and now saw himself confronted by the
alternative of war or national humiliation. In truth, every turn and
double of his course was now leading him deeper into the discredit and
ruin which will be described in the next chapter.

Leaving for the present that unhappy King amidst his increasing
perplexities, we return to the affairs of Austria. Mack's disaster
alone had cast that Government into the depths of despair, and we
learn from Lord Gower, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, that he had
seen copies of letters written by the Emperor Francis to Napoleon
"couched in terms of humility and submission unworthy of a great
monarch," to which the latter replied in a tone of superiority and
affected commiseration, and with a demand for the Hapsburg lands in
Venetia and Swabia.[49]

The same tone of whining dejection was kept up by Cobenzl and other
Austrian Ministers, even before Austerlitz, when Prussia was on the
point of drawing the sword; and they sent offers of peace, when it was
rather for their foe to sue for it. After that battle, and, still more
so, after signing the armistice of December 6th, they were at the
conqueror's mercy; and Napoleon knew it. After probing the inner
weakness of the Berlin Court, he now pressed with merciless severity
on the Hapsburgs. He proposed to tear away their Swabian and Tyrolese
lands and their share of the spoils of Venice. In vain did the
Austrian plenipotentiaries struggle against these harsh terms,
pleading for Tyrol and Dalmatia, and pointing out the impossibility of
raising 100,000,000 francs from territories ravaged by war. In vain
did they proffer a claim to Hanover for one of their Archdukes: though
Talleyrand urged the advantage of this step as dissolving the
Anglo-Austrian alliance, yet Napoleon refused to hear of it; for at
that time he was offering that Electorate to Haugwitz.[50] Still less
would he hear a word in favour of the Court of Naples, whose conduct
had aroused his resentment. The utmost that the Austrian envoys could
wring from him was the reduction of the war contribution to 40,000,000
francs.

The terms finally arranged in the Treaty of Pressburg (December 26th,
1805) may be thus summarized: Austria recognized the recent
acquisitions and changes of title made by Napoleon in Italy, and ceded
to him her parts of Venetia, Istria, and Dalmatia. She recognized the
title of King now bestowed by Napoleon on the Electors of Bavaria and
Würtemberg, a change which was not to invalidate their membership of
the "Germanic Confederation." To those potentates and to the Elector
(now Grand Duke) of Baden, the Hapsburgs ceded all their scattered
Swabian domains, while Bavaria also gained Tyrol and Vorarlberg. As a
slight compensation for these grievous losses, Austria gained
Salzburg, whose Elector was to receive from Bavaria the former
principality of Würzburg. The domains and revenues of the Teutonic and
Maltese Orders were secularized, so as to furnish appanages to some
other princes of the Hapsburg House; and another blow was dealt at the
Germanic system by the declaration that Napoleon guaranteed the full
and entire sovereignty of the rulers of Bavaria, Würtemberg, and
Baden. In fact, as will appear in the next chapter, Napoleon now
usurped the place in Germany previously held by the Hapsburgs, and
extended his influence as far east as the River Inn, and, on the
south, down to the remote city of Ragusa on the Adriatic.

But it is one thing to win a brilliant diplomatic triumph, and quite
another thing to secure a firm and lasting peace. The Peace of
Pressburg raised Napoleon to heights of power never dreamt of by Louis
XIV.: but his pre-eminence was at best precarious. When by moderate
terms he might have secured the alliance of Austria and severed her
friendship with England, he chose to place his heel on her neck and
drive her to secret but irreconcilable hatred.

And his choice was deliberate. Two months earlier, Talleyrand had sent
him a memorandum on the subject of a Franco-Austrian alliance, which
is instinct with statesmanlike foresight. He stated that there were
four Great Powers--France, Great Britain, Russia, and Austria: he
excluded Prussia, whose rise to greatness under Frederick the Great
was but temporary. Austria, he claimed, must remain a Great Power. She
had opposed revolutionary France; but with Imperial France she had no
lasting quarrel. Rather did her manifest destiny clash with that of
Russia on the lower Danube, where the approaching break-up of the
Ottoman Power must bring those States into conflict. It was good
policy, then, to give a decided but friendly turn of Hapsburg policy
towards the east. Let Napoleon frankly approach the Emperor Francis
and say in effect: "I never sought this war with you, but I have
conquered: I wish to restore complete harmony between us: and, in
order to remove all causes of dispute, you must give up your Swabian,
Tyrolese, and Venetian lands: of these Tyrol shall fall to a prince of
your choice, and Venice (along with Trieste and Istria) shall form an
aristocratic Republic under a magistrate nominated in the first
instance by me. As a set-off to these losses, you shall receive
Moldavia, Wallachia, and northern Bulgaria. If the Russians object to
this and attack you, I will be your ally." Such was Talleyrand's
proposal.[51]

It is easy to criticise it in many details; but there can be little
doubt that its adoption by Napoleon would have laid a firmer
foundation for French supremacy than was afforded by the Treaties of
Pressburg and Tilsit. Austria would not have been deeply wounded, as
she now was by the transfer of her faithful Tyrolese to the detested
rule of Bavaria, and by the undisguised triumph of Napoleon in Italy
and along the Adriatic. Moreover, the erection of Tyrol and Venetia
into separate States would have been a wise concession to those
clannish societies; and Austria could not have taken up the
championship of outraged Tyrolese sentiment, which she assumed four
years later. Instead of figuring as the leader of German nationality,
she would have been on the worst of terms with the Czar over the
Eastern Question; and their discord would have enabled France to
dictate her own terms as to the partition of the Sultan's dominions.
Talleyrand had no specific for dissolving the traditional friendship
of England and Austria, and we may imagine the joy with which he heard
from the Hapsburg envoys the demand for Hanover, at a time when
English gold was pouring into the empty coffers at Vienna. Here was
the sure means of embroiling England and Austria for a generation at
least. But this further chance of preventing future coalitions was
likewise rejected by Napoleon, who deliberately chose to make Austria
a deadly foe, and to aggrandize her rival Prussia.[52]

Why did Napoleon reject Talleyrand's plan? Unquestionably, I think,
because he had resolved to build up a Continental System, which should
"hermetically seal" the coasts of Europe against English commerce. If
he was to realize those golden visions of his youth, ships, colonies,
and an Eastern empire, which, even amidst the glories of Austerlitz,
he placed far above any European triumph, he must extend his coast
system and subject or conciliate the maritime States. Of these the
most important were Prussia and Russia. The seaborne commerce of
Austria was insignificant, and could easily be controlled from his
vassal lands of Venetia and Dalmatia. To the would-be conqueror of
England the friendship or hatred of Austria seemed unimportant: he
preferred to depress this now almost land-locked Power, and to draw
tight the bonds of union with Prussia, always provided that she
excluded British goods.[53]

The same reason led him to hope for a Russian alliance. Only by the
help of Russia and Prussia could he shut England out from the Baltic;
and, to win that help, he destined Hanover for Prussia and the
Danubian States for the Czar. For the founder of the Continental
System such a choice was natural; but, viewed from the standpoint of
Continental politics, his treatment of Austria was a serious blunder.
His frightful pressure on her motley lands endowed them with a
solidity which they had never known before; and in less than four
years, the conqueror had cause to regret having driven the Hapsburgs
to desperation. It may even be questioned whether Austerlitz itself
was not a misfortune to him. Just before that battle he thought of
treating Austria leniently, taking only Verona and Legnago, and
exchanging Venetia against Salzburg. This would have detached her from
the Coalition, and made a friend of a Power that is naturally inclined
to be conservative.

After Austerlitz, he rushed to the other extreme and forced the
Hapsburgs to a hostility in which the Marie Louise marriage was only a
forced and uneasy truce. His motives are not, in my judgment, to be
assigned to mere lust of domination, but rather to a reasoned though
exaggerated conviction of the need of Prussia and Russia to his
Continental System. Above all things, he now sought to humble England,
so that finally he might be free for his long-deferred Oriental
enterprise. This is the irony of his career, that, though he preferred
the career of Alexander the Great to that of Cæsar; though he placed
his victory at Austerlitz far below the triumph of the great
Macedonian at Issus which assured the conquest of the Orient, yet he
felt himself driven to the very measures which tethered him to _cette
vieille Europe_ and which finally roused the Continent against him.

Among his errors of judgment, assuredly his behaviour to Austria in
1805 was not the least. The recent history of Europe supplies a
suggestive contrast. Two generations after Austerlitz, the Hapsburg
Power was shattered by the disaster of Königgrätz, and once more lost
all influence in Germany and Italy. But the victor then showed
consideration for the vanquished. Bismarck had pondered over the
lessons of history, because, as he said, _history teaches one how far
one may safely go_. He therefore persuaded King William to forego
claims that would have embittered the rivalry of Prussia and Austria.
Nay! he recurred to Talleyrand's policy of encouraging the Hapsburgs
to seek in the Balkan Peninsula compensation for their losses in the
west: and within fifteen years the basis of the Triple Alliance was
firmly laid. Napoleon, on the other hand, for lack of that
statesmanlike moderation which consecrates victory and cements the
fabric of an enduring Empire, soon saw the political results of
Austerlitz swept away by the rising tide of the nations' wrath. In
less than nine years the Austrians and their allies were masters of
Paris.

    NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--The account given on p. 41 of the
    drowning of numbers of Russians at the close of the Battle of
    Austerlitz was founded upon the testimony of Napoleon and many
    French generals; the facts, as related by Lejeune, seemed quite
    convincing; the Czar Alexander also asserted at Vienna in 1815
    that 20,000 Russians had been drowned there. But the local
    evidence (kindly furnished to me by Professor Fournier of Vienna)
    seems to prove that the story is a myth. Both lakes were drained
    only a few days after the battle, _at Napoleon's orders_; in the
    lower lake not a single corpse was found; in the upper lake 150
    corpses of horses, but only two, some say three, of men, were
    found. Probably Napoleon invented the catastrophe for the sake of
    dramatic effect, and others followed the lead given in his
    bulletin. The Czar may have adopted the story because it helped to
    excuse his defeat. (See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." for
    July, 1902.)

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIV

PRUSSIA AND THE NEW CHARLEMAGNE


An eminent German historian, who has striven to say some kind words
about Frederick William's Government before the collapse at Jena,
prefaces his apology by the axiom that from a Prussian monarch one
ought to expect, not French, English, or Russian policy, but only
Prussian policy. The claim may well be challenged. Doubtless, there
are some States concerning which it would be true. Countries such as
Great Britain and Spain, whose areas are clearly defined by nature,
may with advantage be self-contained until their peoples overflow into
new lands: before they become world Powers, they may gain in strength
by being narrowly national. But there are other States whose fortunes
are widely different. They represent some principle of life or energy,
in the midst of mere political wreckage. If the binding power, which
built up an older organism, should decline, as happened to the Holy
Roman Empire after the religious wars, fragments will fall away and
join bodies to which they are now more akin.

Of the States that throve among the crumbling masses of the old Empire
the chief was Brandenburg-Prussia. She had a twofold energy which the
older organism lacked: she was Protestant and she was national; she
championed the new creed cherished by the North Germans, and she felt,
though dimly as yet, the strength that came from an almost single kin.
Until she seized on part of the spoils of Poland, her Slavonic
subjects were for the most part germanized Slavs; and even after
acquiring Posen and Warsaw at the close of the eighteenth century, she
could still claim to be the chief Germanic State. A generation
earlier, Frederick the Great had seen this to be the source of her
strength. His policy was not merely Prussian: in effect, if not in
aim, it was German. His victory at Rossbach over a great polyglot
force of French and Imperialists first awakened German nationality to
a thrill of conscious life; and the last success of his career was the
championship of the lesser German princes against the encroachments of
the Hapsburgs. In fact, it seems now a mere commonplace to assert that
Prussia has prospered most when, as under Frederick the Great and
William the Great, her policy has been truly German, and that she has
fallen back most in the years 1795-1806 and 1848-1852, when the
subservience of her Frederick Williams to France and Austria has lost
them the respect and support of the rest of the Fatherland. A State
that would attract other fragments of the same nation must be
attractive, and it must be broadly national if it is to attract. If
Stein and Bismarck had been merely Prussians, if Cavour's policy had
been narrowly Sardinian, would their States ever have served as the
rallying centres for the Germany and Italy of to-day?

The difficulties which beset Frederick William III. in 1805 were not
entirely of his own making. His predecessor of the same ill-omened
name, when nearing the close of his inglorious reign, made the Peace
of Basel (1795), which began to place the policy of Berlin at the beck
and call of the French revolutionists. But the present ruler had
assured Prussia's subservience to France at the time of the
Secularizations, when he gained Erfurt, Eichsfeld, Hildesheim,
Paderborn, and a great part of the straggling bishopric of Münster.
Even at that time of shameless rapacity, there were those who saw that
the gain of half a million of subjects to Prussia was a poor return
for the loss of self-respect that befell all who shared in the
sacrilegious plunder bartered away by Bonaparte and Talleyrand.
Frederick William III. was even suspected of a leaning towards French
methods of Government; and a Prussian statesman said to the French
ambassador:

    "You have only the nobles against you: the King and the people are
    openly for France. The revolution which you have made from below
    upwards will be slowly effected in Prussia from above downwards:
    the King is a democrat after his fashion: he is always striving to
    curtail the privileges of the nobles, but by slow means. In a few
    years feudal rights will cease to exist in Prussia."[54]

Could the King have carried out these much-needed reforms, he might
perhaps have opposed a solid society to the renewed might of France.
But he failed to set his house in order before the storm burst; and in
1803 he so far gave up his championship of North German affairs as to
allow the French to occupy Hanover, a land that he and his Ministers
had long coveted.

We saw in the last chapter that Hanover was the bait whereby Napoleon
hooked the Prussian envoy, Haugwitz, at Schönbrunn; and that the very
man who had been sent to impose Prussia's will upon the French Emperor
returned to Berlin bringing peace and dishonour. The surprise and
annoyance of Frederick William may be imagined. On all sides
difficulties were thickening around him. Shortly before the return of
Haugwitz to Berlin, the Russian troops campaigning in Hanover had been
placed under the protection of Prussia; and the King himself had
offered to our Minister, Lord Harrowby, to protect Cathcart's
Anglo-Hanoverian corps which, _with the aid of Prussian troops_, was
restoring the authority of George III. in that Electorate.

Moreover, Frederick William could not complain of any shabby treatment
from our Government. Knowing that he was set on the acquisition of
Hanover and could only be drawn into the Coalition by an equally
attractive offer, the Pitt Ministry had proposed through Lord Harrowby
the cession to Prussia at the general peace of the lands south-west of
the Duchy of Cleves, "bounded by a frontier line drawn from Antwerp to
Luxemburg," and connected with the rest of her territories.[55] This
plan, which would have planted Prussia firmly at Antwerp, Liège,
Luxemburg, and Cologne, also aimed at installing the Elector of
Salzburg in the rest of the new Rhenish acquisitions of France; while
the equipoise of the Powers was to be adjusted by the cession of
Salzburg, the Papal Legations, and the line of the Mincio to Austria,
she in her turn giving up part of her Dalmatian lands to Russia.
Prussia was to be the protectress of North Germany and regard any
incursion of the French, "north of the Maine or at least of the Lahn,"
as an act of war. Great Britain, after subsidizing Prussia for 100,000
troops on the usual scale, pledged herself to restore all her
conquests made, or to be made, during the war, with the exception of
the Cape of Good Hope: but no questions were to be raised about that
desirable colony, or Malta, or the British maritime code.[56]

At the close of 1805, then, Frederick William was face to face with
the offers of England and those brought by Haugwitz from Napoleon.
That is, he had to choose between the half of Belgium and the
Rhineland as offered by England, or Hanover as a gift from Napoleon.
The former gain was the richer, but apparently the more risky, for it
entailed the hatred of France: the latter seemed to secure the
friendship of the conqueror, though at the expense of the claims of
honour and a naval war with England. His confidential advisers,
Lombard, Beyme, and Haugwitz, were determined to gain the Electorate,
preferably at Napoleon's hands; while his Foreign Minister,
Hardenberg, a Hanoverian by birth, desired to assure the union of his
native land with Prussia by more honourable means, and probably by
means of an exchange with George III., which will be noticed
presently. In his opposition to French influence, Hardenberg had the
support of the more patriotic Prussians, who sought to safeguard
Prussia's honour, and to avert war with England. The difficulty in
accepting the Electorate at the point of Napoleon's sword was not
merely on the score of morality: it was due to the presence of a large
force of English, Hanoverians, and Russians on the banks of the Weser,
and to the protection which the Prussian Government had offered to
those troops against any French attack, always provided that they did
not move against Holland and retired behind the Prussian
battalions.[57] The indignation of British officers at this last order
is expressed by Christian Ompteda, of the King's German Legion, in a
letter to his brother at Berlin: "My dear fellow, if this sort of
thing goes on, the Continent will soon be irrecoverably lost. The
Russian and English armies will not long creep for refuge under the
contemptible Prussian cloak. We are here, 40,000 of the best and
bravest troops. A swift move on Holland only would have opened the
road to certain success.... And this is Lombard's and Haugwitz's
work!"[58]

What meanwhile were George III.'s Ministers doing? At this crisis
English policy suffered a terrible blow. Death struck down the
"stately column" that held up the swaying fortunes of our race.
William Pitt, long failing in health, was sore-stricken by the news of
Austerlitz and the defection of Austria. But the popular version as to
the cause of his death--that _Austerlitz killed Pitt_--is more
melodramatic than correct. Among the many causes that broke that
unbending spirit, the news of the miserable result of the Hanoverian
Expedition was the last and severest. The files of our Foreign Office
papers yield touching proof of the hopes which the Cabinet cherished,
even after Vienna was in Napoleon's hands. Harrowby was urged to do
everything in his power--short of conceding Hanover--to bring Prussia
into the field, in which case "nearly 300,000 men will be available in
North Germany at the beginning of the next campaign, which will
include 70,000 British and Hanoverian troops employed there or in
maritime enterprises."[59] To this hope Pitt clung, even after hearing
the news of Austerlitz, and it was doubtless this which enabled him to
bear that last journey from Bath to Putney Heath, with less fatigue
and far more quickly than had been expected. He arrived home on
Saturday night, January 11th. On the following Wednesday his friend,
George Rose, called on him and found that a serious change for the
worse had set in.

    "On the Sunday he was better, and continued improving till Monday
    in the afternoon, when Lord Castlereagh insisted on seeing him,
    and, having obtained access to him, entered (Lord Hawkesbury being
    also present) on points of public business of the most serious
    importance (principally respecting the bringing home the British
    troops from the Continent), which affected him visibly that
    evening and the next day, and this morning the effect was more
    plainly observed: ... his countenance is extremely changed, his
    voice weak, and his body almost wasted."

It is clear also from the medical evidence which the diarist gives
that the news from Hanover was the cause of this sudden change. On the
previous Sunday, that is, just after the fatigue of the three days'
journey, the physicians "thought there was a reasonable prospect of
Mr. Pitt's recovery, that the probability was in favour of it, and
that, if his complaint should not take an unfavourable turn, he might
be able to attend to business in about a month."[60] That unfavourable
turn took place when the heroic spirit lost all hope under the
distressing news from Berlin and Hanover. Austerlitz, it is true, had
depressed him. Yet that, after all, did not concern British honour and
the dearest interests of his master.

But, that Frederick William, from whom he had hoped so much, to whom
he was on the point of advancing a great subsidy, should now fall
away, should talk of peace with Napoleon and claim Hanover, should
forbid an invasion of Holland and request the British forces to
evacuate North Germany--this was a blow to George III., to our
military prestige, and to the now tottering Ministry. How could he
face the Opposition, already wellnigh triumphant in the sad Melville
business, with a King's Speech in which this was the chief news?
Losing hope, he lost all hold on life: he sank rapidly: in the last
hours his thoughts wandered away to Berlin and Lord Harrowby. "What is
the wind?" he asked. "East; that will do; that will bring him fast,"
he murmured. And, on January 23rd, about half an hour before he
breathed his last, the servant heard him say: "My country: oh my
country."[61]

Thus sank to rest, amidst a horror of great darkness, the statesman
whose noon had been calm and glorious. Only a superficial reading of
his career can represent him as eager for war and a foe to popular
progress. His best friends knew full well his pride in the great
financial achievements of 1784-6, his resolute clinging to peace in
1792, and his longing for a pacification in 1796, 1797, and 1800,
provided it could be gained without detriment to our allies and to the
vital interests of Britain. His defence lies buried amidst the
documents of our Record Office, and has not yet fully seen the light.
For he was a reserved man, the warmth of whose nature blossomed forth
only to a few friends, or on such occasions as his inspired speech on
the emancipation of slaves. To outsiders he had more than the usual
fund of English coldness: he wrote no memoirs, he left few letters, he
had scant means of influencing public opinion; and he viewed with
lofty disdain the French clamour that it was he who made and kept up
the war. "I know it," he said; "the Jacobins cry louder than we can,
and make themselves heard."[62] He was, in fact, a typical champion of
our rather dumb and stolid race, that plods along to the end of the
appointed stage, scarcely heeding the cloud of stinging flies. Both
the people and its champion were ill fitted to cope with Napoleon.
None of our statesmen had the Latin tact and the histrionic gifts
needful to fathom his guile, to arouse the public opinion of Europe
against him, or to expose his double-dealing.

But Pitt was unfortunate above all of them. It was his fate to begin
his career in an age of mediocrities and to finish it in an almost
single combat with the giant. He was no match for Napoleon. The
Coalition, which the Czar and he did so much to form, was a house of
cards that fell at the conqueror's first touch; and the Prussian
alliance now proved to be a broken reed. His notions of strategy were
puerile. The French Emperor was not to be beaten by small forces
tapping at his outworks; and Austria might reasonably complain that
our neglect to attack the rear of the Grand Army in Flanders exposed
her to the full force of its onset on the Danube. But though his
genius pales before the fiery comet of Napoleon, it shines with a
clear and steady radiance when viewed beside that of the Continental
statesmen of his age. They flickered for a brief space and set. His
was the rare virtue of dauntless courage and unswerving constancy. By
the side of their wavering groups he stands forth like an Abdiel:

  "Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,
  His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal:
  Nor number nor example with him wrought
  To swerve from truth or change his constant mind,
  Though single."

While English statesmanship was essaying the task of forming a
Coalition Ministry under Fox and Grenville, Napoleon with untiring
activity was consolidating his position in Germany, Italy, and France.
In Germany he allied his family by marriage with the now royal Houses
of Bavaria and Würtemberg. He chased the Bourbons of Naples from their
Continental domains. In France he found means to mitigate a severe
financial crisis, and to strengthen his throne by a new order of
hereditary nobility. In a word, he became the new Charlemagne.

The exaltation of the South German dynasties had long been a favourite
project with Napoleon, who saw in the hatred of the House of Bavaria
for Austria a sure basis for spreading French influence into the heart
of Germany. Not long after the battle of Austerlitz, the Elector of
Bavaria, while out shooting, received from a French courier a letter
directed to "Sa Majesté _le Roi_ de Bavière et de Suabe."[63] This
letter was despatched six days after a formal request was sent through
Duroc, that the Elector would give his daughter Augusta in marriage to
Eugène Beauharnais. The affair had been mooted in October: it was
clinched by the victory of Austerlitz; and after Napoleon's arrival at
Munich on the last day of the year, the final details were arranged.
The bridegroom was informed of it in the following laconic style: "I
have arrived at Munich. I have arranged your marriage with the
Princess Augusta. It has been announced. This morning the princess
visited me, and I spoke with her for a long time. She is very pretty.
You will find herewith her portrait on a cup; but she is much better
looking." The wedding took place at Munich as soon as the bridegroom
could cross the Alps; and Napoleon delayed his departure for France in
order to witness the ceremony which linked him with an old reigning
family. At the same time he arranged a match between Jerome Bonaparte
and Princess Catherine of Würtemberg. This was less expeditious,
partly because, in the case of a Bonaparte, Napoleon judged it needful
to sound the measure of his obedience. But Jerome had been broken in:
he had thrown over Miss Paterson, and, after a delay of a year and a
half, obeyed his brother's behests, and strengthened the ties
connecting Swabia with France. A third alliance was cemented by the
marriage of the heir to the Grand Duchy of Baden with Stéphanie de
Beauharnais, niece of Josephine.

In the early part of 1806 Napoleon might flatter himself with his
brilliant success as a match-maker. Yet, after all, he was less
concerned with the affairs of Hymen than with those of Mars and
Mercury. He longed to be at Paris for the settlement of finances; and
he burned to hear of the expulsion of the Bourbons from Naples. For
this last he had already sent forth his imperious mandates from
Vienna; and, after a brief sojourn at the Swabian capitals, he set out
for Paris, where he arrived incognito at midnight of January 26th.
During his absence of one hundred and twenty-five days he had captured
or destroyed two armies, stricken a mighty coalition to the heart,
shattered the Hapsburg Power, and revolutionized the Germanic system
by establishing two Napoleonic kingdoms in its midst.

Yet, as if nothing had been done, and all his hopes and thoughts lay
in the future, he summoned his financial advisers to a council for
eight o'clock in the morning. Scarcely did he deign to notice their
congratulations on his triumphs. "We have," he said, "to deal with
more serious questions: it seems that the greatest dangers of the
State were not in Austria: let us hear the report of the Minister of
the Treasury." It then appeared that Barbé-Marbois had been concerned
in risky financial concerns with the Court of Spain, through a man
named Ouvrard. The Minister therefore was promptly dismissed, and
Mollien then and there received his post. The new Minister states in
his memoirs that the money, which had sufficed to carry the French
armies from the English Channel to the Rhine, had been raised on
extravagant terms, largely on loans on the national domains. In fact,
it had been an open question whether victory would come promptly
enough to avert a wholesale crash at Paris.

So bad were the finances that, though 40,000,000 francs were poured
every year into France as subsidies from Italy and Spain, yet loans of
120,000,000 francs had been incurred in order to meet current
expenses.[64] It would exceed the limits of our space to describe by
what forceful means Napoleon restored the financial equilibrium and
assuaged the commercial crisis resulting from the war with England.
Mollien soon had reason to know that, so far from avoiding Continental
wars, the Emperor thenceforth seemed almost to provoke them, and that
the motto--_War must support war_--fell far short of the truth.
Napoleon's wars, always excepting his war with England, supported the
burdens of an armed peace. In this respect his easy and gainful
triumph over Austria was a disaster for France and Europe. It beckoned
him on to Jena and Tilsit.

While reducing his finances to order and newspaper editors to
servility, the conqueror received news of the triumph of his arms in
Southern Italy. There the Bourbons of Naples had mortally offended
him. After concluding a convention for the peaceable withdrawal of St.
Cyr's corps and the strict observance of neutrality by the kingdom of
Naples, Ferdinand IV. and his Queen Caroline welcomed the arrival at
their capital of an Anglo-Russian force of 20,000 men, and intrusted
the command of these and of the Neapolitan troops to General Lacy.[65]
This force, it is true, did little except weaken the northward march
of Masséna; but the violation of neutrality by the Bourbons galled
Napoleon. At Vienna he refused to listen to the timid pleading of the
Hapsburgs on their behalf, and as soon as peace was signed at
Pressburg he put forth a bulletin stating that St. Cyr was marching on
Naples to hurl from the throne that guilty woman who had so flagrantly
violated all that is sacred among men. France would fight for thirty
years rather than pardon her atrocious act of perfidy: the Queen of
Naples had ceased to reign: let her go to London and form a committee
of sympathetic ink with Drake, Spencer-Smith, Taylor, and Wickham.

This diatribe was not the first occasion on which the conqueror had
proved that he was no gentleman. In his brutal letter of January 2nd,
1805, to Queen Caroline, he told her that, if she was the cause of
another war, she and her children would beg their bread all through
Europe. That and similar outbursts afford some excuse for the conduct
of the Bourbons in the autumn of 1805. They infringed the neutrality
which their ambassador had engaged to observe: but it is to be
remembered that Napoleon's invasion of the Neapolitan States in 1803
was a gross violation of international law, which the French Foreign
Office sought to cloak by fabricating two secret articles of the
Treaty of Amiens.[66] And though troth should doubtless be kept, even
with a law-breaker, yet its violation becomes venial when the latter
adopts the tone of a bully. For the present he triumphed. Joseph
Bonaparte invaded Naples in force, and on January 13th the King,
Queen, and Court set sail for Palermo. The Anglo-Russian divisions
re-embarked and sailed away for Malta and Corfu. One of the Neapolitan
strongholds, Gaëta, held out till the middle of July. Elsewhere the
Bourbon troops gave little trouble.

The conquest of Naples enabled Napoleon to extend his experiment of a
federation of Bonapartist Kings. He announced to Miot de Melito, now
appointed one of Joseph's administrators, his intentions in an
interview at the Tuileries on January 28th. Joseph was to be King of
Naples, if he accepted the honour quickly. If not, the Emperor would
adopt a son, as in the case of Eugène, and make him King.--"I don't
need a wife to have an heir. It is by my pen that I get
children."--But Joseph must also show himself worthy of the honour.
Let him despise fatigue, get wounded, break a leg.

    "Look at me. The recent campaign, agitation, and movement have
    made me fat. I believe that if all the kings coalesced against me,
    I should get a quite ridiculous stomach.... You have heard my
    words. I can no longer have relatives in obscurity. Those who will
    not rise with me, shall no longer be of my family. I am making a
    family of kings attached to my federative system."[67]

The threat having had its effect, Joseph was proclaimed King of Naples
by a decree of Napoleon. "Keep a firm hand: I only ask one thing of
you: be entirely the master there."[68] Such was the advice given to
his amiable brother, who after enjoying a military promenade
southwards was charged to undertake the conquest of Sicily. It
mattered little that the overthrow of the Neapolitan Bourbons offended
the Czar, who had undertaken the protection of that House.

As though intent on browbeating Alexander by an exhibition of his
power, Napoleon lavished Italian titles on his Marshals and statesmen.
Talleyrand became Prince of Benevento; and Bernadotte, Prince of
Ponte-Corvo (two Papal enclaves in Neapolitan soil). To these and
other titles were attached large domains (not divisible at death),
which enabled his paladins and their successors to support their new
dignities with pomp and splendour; especially was this so with the two
titles which his bargains with Prussia and Bavaria enabled him to
bestow. Thanks to the complaisance of their Kings, the Grand Duchy of
Berg and Cleves was granted to Murat, while the energetic and trusty
Berthier was rewarded with the Principality of Neufchâtel and a truly
princely fortune.[69]

Thus was founded the Napoleonic nobility; and thus was fulfilled Mme.
de Staël's prophecy that the priests and nobles would be the
_caryatides_ of the future throne. The change was brought about
skilfully. It took place when pride in Napoleon's exploits was at its
height, and when the "Gazette de France" asserted:

    "France is henceforth the arbitress of Europe.... Civilization
    would have perished in Europe, if forth from the ruins there had
    not arisen one of these men before whom the world keeps silence,
    and to whom Providence seems to intrust its destinies."[70]

This adulation, which recalls that of the Court of Augustus or
Tiberius, gives the measure of French thought. In truth, Napoleon
showed profound insight into human nature when he judged the hatred of
an order of nobility to be a mere passing spasm of revolutionary
fever; and he evinced equal good sense in restoring that order through
the chiefs of the one truly popular institution in France, the army.
Besides, the new titles were not taken from French domains, which
would have revived the idea of feudal dependence in France: they were
the fruit of Napoleon's great victory; and the sound of distant names
like Benevento, Berg, and Dalmatia skilfully flattered the pride of
_la grande nation_.

It is now time to return to the affairs of Prussia and to point out
the chief stages in her downward course. On January 3rd, 1806, an
important State Council was held at Berlin in order to decide on
certain modifications to the Schönbrunn Treaty with Napoleon. The
chief change resolved on was as follows: Instead of the cessions of
territory being immediate and absolute, as proposed by Napoleon, they
were not to take effect before the general peace. Until that took
place, Frederick William resolved to occupy Hanover provisionally,
meanwhile answering to France for the tranquillity of the north of
Germany.[71] The Prussian Government therefore gave strong hints that
the presence of a British force there was objectionable, and the
troops were withdrawn.[72]

Napoleon was to be less pliable. And yet Haugwitz assured the Prussian
King and council that he had looked Napoleon through and through, and
had discerned an unexpressed wish to deal easily with Prussia. As to
his acceptance of these changes in the Schönbrunn Treaty, Haugwitz
felt no doubt whatever, at least so his foe, Hardenberg, states. But
the Prussian Ministers were now proposing, not the offensive and
defensive treaty of alliance that Napoleon required, but rather a
mediation for peace between France and England. They were, in fact,
striving to steer halfway between Napoleon and George III.--and gain
Hanover. Verily, here was a belief in half measures passing that of
women.

The envoy despatched to assure Napoleon's assent to these new
conditions was the very man who had quailed before the Emperor at
Schönbrunn. Count Haugwitz set out on January 14th for Munich and
thence for Paris; but long before any definite news was received from
him, the Court of Berlin decided, on the strength of a few oily
compliments from the French ambassador, Laforest, to regard the
acceptance of Napoleon as fully assured. Accordingly, on January 24th,
the Government resolved to place the Prussian army on a peace-footing
and recall the troops from Franconia, as a daily saving of 100,000
thalers might thereby be effected. Never was there a greater act of
extravagance. As soon as the retreat and demobilizing of the Prussian
forces was announced, the French troops in Bavaria and Franconia began
to press forward, while others poured across the Rhine. Affecting to
ignore these threatening moves, the Prussian Court strove peaceably to
acquire Hanover by secretly offering George III. a re-arrangement of
territories, whereby the Hanoverian lands east of the Weser, along
with a few districts west of Hameln and Nienburg, should pass to
Prussia. Frederick William proposed to keep Minden and Ravensburg, but
to cede East Frisia and all the rest of his Westphalian possessions to
King George, who would retain the electoral dignity for these new
lands.[73] The only reply that our ruler deigned to this offer was
that he trusted:

    "His Prussian Majesty will follow the honourable dictates of his
    own heart, and will demonstrate to the world that he will not set
    the dreadful example of indemnifying himself at the expense of a
    third party, whose sentiments and conduct towards him and his
    subjects have been uniformly friendly and pacifick."[74]

But by the close of February this appeal fell on deaf ears. Frederick
William had decided to comply with Napoleon's terms and was about to
take formal possession of Hanover.

The conqueror was far from taking that easy view of the changes made
in the Schönbrunn Treaty which the discerning Haugwitz had trustfully
expected. At first, every effort was made by Talleyrand to delay his
interview with the Emperor, evidently in the hope that the subtle
flattery of Laforest at Berlin would lead to the demobilization of the
Prussian forces. This fatal step was known at Paris before February
6th, when Haugwitz was received by the Emperor; and the knowledge that
Prussia was at his mercy decided the conqueror's tone. He began by
some wheedling words as to the ability shown by Haugwitz in the
Schönbrunn negotiation:

    "If anyone but myself had treated with you I should have thought
    him bought over by you; but, let me confess to you, the treaty was
    due to your talents and merit. You were in my eyes the first
    statesman in Europe, and covered yourself with immortal glory."

Before that interview, forsooth, he had decided to make war on
Prussia; and only Haugwitz had induced him to offer her peace and the
gift of Hanover. Why, then, had that treaty been so criticised at
Berlin? Why had the French ambassador been slighted? Why was
Hardenberg high in favour? Why had not the King dismissed that tool of
England? Here the envoy strove to stem the rising torrent of the
Emperor's wrath; his words were at once swept aside; and the deluge
flowed on. As Prussia had not ratified the treaty pure and simple, she
was in a state of war with France; for she still had Russian and
English troops on her soil. Here again Haugwitz observed that those
forces were withdrawing, and that the Prussians were entering Hanover
in force. The storm burst forth anew. What right had Prussia thus to
carry into effect a treaty which she had not ratified? If her forces
entered Hanover, his troops should forthwith occupy Ansbach, Cleves,
and Neufchâtel: if Frederick William meant to have Hanover, he should
pay dearly for it. But he would allow Haugwitz to see Talleyrand, so
as to prevent an immediate war.[75]

The calm of the Foreign Minister was as dangerous as the bluster of
the Emperor. Talleyrand was no friend to Prussia. He had long known
Napoleon's determination to press on a war between England and
Prussia, and he lent himself to the plan of undermining the
Hohenzollerns. The scales now fell from the envoy's eyes. He saw that
his country stood friendless before an exacting creditor, who now
claimed further sacrifices--or Prussia's life-blood. The Emperor's
threats were partly fictitious; and when Haugwitz was thoroughly
frightened and ready to concede almost anything, Napoleon came to the
real point at issue, and demanded that the whole of the German
coast-line on the North Sea should be closed to English commerce. With
this stringent clause superadded, Hanover was now handed over to
Prussia. Never was a Greek gift more skilfully offered. The present of
Hanover on those terms implied for the recipient Russia's disapproval
and the hostility of England.[76]

This was the news brought by Haugwitz to Berlin. Frederick William was
now on the horns of the very dilemma which he had sought to avoid.
Either he must accept Napoleon's terms, or defy the conqueror to
almost single combat. The irony of his position was now painfully
apparent. In his longing for peace and retrenchment he had dismissed
his would-be allies, and had sent his own soldiers grumbling to their
homes. Moreover, he was tied by his previous action. If he accepted
peace from Napoleon at Christmas, when 300,000 men could have disputed
the victor's laurels, how much more must he accept it now! He not only
gave way on this point: he even complied with Napoleon's wishes by
keeping Hardenberg at a distance. He did not dismiss him--the
friendship of the spirited Queen Louisa forbade that: but Hardenberg
yielded up to Haugwitz the guidance of foreign affairs, and was
granted unlimited leave of absence.

Popular feeling was deeply moved by this craven compliance with French
behests. The officers of the Berlin garrison serenaded the patriotic
statesman, while Haugwitz twice had his windows smashed. Public
opinion, it is true, counted for little in Prussia. The rigorous
separation of classes, the absence of popular education, the complete
subjection of the journals to Government, and the mutual jealousy of
soldiers and civilians, prevented any general expression of opinion in
that almost feudal society.

But when the people of Ansbach piteously begged not to be handed over
to Bavaria, and forthwith saw their land occupied by the French before
Prussia had ratified the cession of that principality; when the North
Germans found that the gain of Hanover by Prussia was at the price of
war with England and the ruin of their commerce; when it was seen that
Frederick William and Haugwitz had clipped the wings of the Prussian
eagle till it shunned a fight with the Gallic cock, a feeling of shame
and indignation arose which proved that the limits of endurance had
been reached. Observers saw that, after all, the old German feeling
was not dead; it was only torpid; and forces were beginning to work
which threatened ruin to the Hohenzollerns if they again tarnished the
national honour.[77]

Meanwhile the first overtures for peace were exchanged between Paris,
London, and St. Petersburg. In the spring of 1806 there seemed some
ground for hope that Europe might find repose, at least on land, after
fourteen years of almost constant war. France was no longer
Jacobinical. Under Napoleon she had quickly fallen into line with the
monarchical States, and the questions now at stake merely related to
boundaries and the balance of power. The bellicose ardour of the Czar
had melted away at Austerlitz. The seizure of Hanover by Prussia moved
him but little, and he sought to compose the resulting strife. As for
the other Powers, they were either helpless or torpid. The King of
Sweden was venting his spleen upon Prussia. Italy, South Germany,
Holland, and Spain were at Napoleon's beck; and the policy of England
under the new Grenville-Fox Ministry inclined strongly towards peace.
There seemed, then, every chance of founding the supremacy of France
upon lasting foundations, if the claims of Britain and Austria
received reasonable satisfaction. Napoleon also seems to have wanted
peace for the consolidation of his power in Europe and the extension
of his colonies and commerce. As at the close of all his land
campaigns, his thoughts turned to the East, and on January 31st, 1806,
he issued orders to Decrès which, far from showing any despair as to
the French navy, foreshadowed a vigorous naval and colonial policy;
while his moves on the Dalmatian coast, and the despatch of Sebastiani
on a mission to the Porte, revealed the magnetic attraction which the
Levant still had for him.

A peculiar interest therefore attaches to the negotiations for peace
in 1806, especially as they were pushed on by that generous orator,
Fox, who had so long pleaded for a good understanding with France. On
February 20th, 1806, he disclosed to Talleyrand the details of a
supposed plot for the murder of the French Emperor, which some person
had proposed to him, an offer which he rejected with horror, at the
same time ordering the man to be expelled from the kingdom. It is more
than probable that the whole thing was got up by the French police as
a test of the esteem which Fox had always expressed for Bonaparte.

The experiment having turned out well, Talleyrand assured Fox of the
pacific desires of the French Emperor as recently stated to the Corps
Législatif, namely, that peace could be had on the terms of the Treaty
of Amiens. Fox at once clasped the outstretched hand, but stated that
the negotiations must be in concert with Russia, and the treaty such
as our allies could honourably accept. To this Talleyrand, on April
1st, gave a partial assent, adding that Napoleon was convinced that
the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was due solely to the refusal of
France to grant a treaty of commerce. France and England could now
come to satisfactory terms, if England would be content with the
sovereignty of the seas, and not interfere with Continental
affairs.[78] France desired, not a truce, but a durable peace.

To this Fox assented, but traversed the French claim that Russia's
participation would imply her mediation. Peace could only come from an
honourable understanding between all the Powers actually at war.
Talleyrand denied that Russia was at war with France, as the Third
Coalition had lapsed; but Fox held his ground, and declared there must
be peace with England _and Russia_, or not at all: otherwise France
would be seen to aim at "excluding us from any connection with the
Continental Powers of Europe."[79]

Such a beginning was disappointing: it showed that Napoleon and
Talleyrand were intent on sowing distrust between England and Russia,
who were mutually pledged not to make peace separately; and for a time
all overtures ceased between London and Paris, until it was known that
a Russian envoy was going to Paris. Hitherto the French Foreign Office
had won brilliant successes by skilfully separating and embittering
allies. But now it seemed that their tactics were foiled. Two firm and
trusty allies yet remained, Britain and Russia. To Czartoryski our
Foreign Minister had expressed his desire that the former offensive
alliance should now take a solely defensive character: "If we cannot
reduce the enormous power of France, it will always be something to
stop its progress." To these opinions the Russian Minister gave a
cordial assent, and despatched a special envoy to London to concert
terms of peace along with the British Ministry, while Oubril, "a safe
man on whose prudence and principles the two allied Courts may safely
rely," was despatched to Vienna and Paris.[80]

Oubril proceeded to Vienna, where he had long discussions with the
British and French ambassadors: Fox also requested that Lord Yarmouth,
one of the many hundreds of Englishmen still kept under restraint in
France, might have his freedom and repair at once to Paris for a
preliminary discussion with Talleyrand. The request being granted, the
prisoner left the depot at Verdun, and, early in June, saw that
Minister in his first flush of pride at the new title of Prince of
Benevento. At that time Paris was intoxicated with Napoleon's glory.
The French were lords of Franconia, whence they levied heavy
exactions: in Italy they defied the Pope's authority.[81] They were
firmly installed at Ancona, despite repeated protests of Pius VII.
King Joseph with an army of 45,000 men was planning the expulsion of
the Bourbons from Sicily. And in these early days of June, Louis
Bonaparte was declared King of Holland.

Yet Talleyrand was not so dazzled by this splendour as to slight the
idea of peace with England; and when Lord Yarmouth stated that George
III. would above all things require the restoration of Hanover, the
Minister, after a delay in which he consulted his master, stated that
that would make no difficulty. As to the other questions, namely,
Sicily and the maintenance of the Turkish Empire, he replied: "You
hold Sicily, we do not ask it of you: if we possessed it, it might
much increase our difficulties"; and as regards Turkey he advised
that England should speedily gain the guarantee of its integrity from
France--"for much is being prepared, but nothing is yet done." After
reporting these views at Downing Street, Lord Yarmouth returned to
Paris for further discussions, with the general understanding that the
principle of _uti possidetis_ should form their basis--except as
regards Hanover. He now was informed by Talleyrand that the
negotiations with Russia were to be kept separate, and that Napoleon
had other views about Sicily, as he looked on its conquest as
necessary for Joseph's security on the mainland.

Surprised at this change, our envoy stated that he could not discuss
any terms of peace in which Sicily was not kept for the Bourbons;
whereupon Talleyrand replied that things were altered, and that we
ought to be content with regaining Hanover from Prussia and keeping
Malta and the Cape of Good Hope. On Lord Yarmouth declining to proceed
further until the French claims to Sicily were renounced, the offer of
the Hanse Towns (Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen) was made for his
Sicilian Majesty; and on the refusal of that bait, Dalmatia, Ragusa,
and Albania were proposed.

As Napoleon had offered to guarantee the integrity of the Turkish
Empire, Lord Yarmouth showed some indignation at a proposal which
would have begun its partition; and, but for the expected arrival of
Oubril, would have broken off the negotiation. On July 8th he saw the
Russian envoy and found him a man of straw. Oubril approved
everything. He was glad that France would give back Hanover to
England, because that would sever the Franco-Prussian union and make
the Court of Berlin dependent on Russia. He even thought it might be
well for the Hanse Towns to go to the Neapolitan Bourbons, provided
those towns were placed under the Czar's protection. But even better
was the proposal that those Bourbons should have Dalmatia and
neighbouring lands; for that would drive a wedge between Napoleon and
Turkey. Such was the gist of this curious interview. Desirous of
testing the accuracy of his account of it, Lord Yarmouth read it over
to Oubril at their next interview, when the Russian envoy added the
following written corrections:

    "N.B.M. d'Oubril believes, though he has no directions on this
    subject, that it would be suitable to Russia, and even
    advantageous for the assuring their own independence, that Hamburg
    and Lübeck should pass under the suzerainty of Russia.--N.B.
    Although M. d'Oubril has a positive order to insist on the
    preservation of Sicily for the King of Naples, yet he is of
    opinion that the acquisition of Venetia, Istria, Dalmatia, and
    Albania" [should be an establishment for his Sicilian
    Majesty].[82]

That a reed shaken by every breeze should bow before Napoleon's will
was not surprising; and late at night on July 20th Lord Yarmouth heard
that the Russian envoy had just signed a separate peace with France,
whereby the independence of the Ionian Isles was recognized (Russia
keeping only 4,000 troops in Corfu), and Germany was to be evacuated
by the French. But the sting was in the tail: for a secret article
stipulated that Ferdinand IV. should cede Sicily to Joseph Bonaparte
and receive the Balearic Isles from Napoleon's ally, Spain.

Such was the news which our envoy heard, after forcing his way to
Oubril's presence, just as the latter was hurrying off to St.
Petersburg. At that city an important change had taken place;
Czartoryski had retired in favour of Baron Budberg, who was less
favourable to a close alliance with England; and it appears certain
that Oubril would not have broken through his instructions had he not
known of this change. What other motives led him to break faith with
England, Sicily, and Spain are not clearly known. He claimed that the
new order of things in Germany rendered it highly important to get the
French troops out of that land. Doubtless this was so; but even that
benefit would have been dearly bought at the price of disgrace to the
Czar.[83]

Leaving for the present Oubril to face his indignant master, we turn
to notice an epoch-making change, the details of which were settled at
Paris in the midst of the negotiations with England and Russia. On
July 17th was quietly signed the Act of the Confederation of the
Rhine, that destroyed the old Germanic Empire.

Some such event had long been expected. The Holy Roman Empire, after a
thousand years of life, had been stricken unto death at Austerlitz.
The seizure of Hanover by Prussia had led the King of Sweden to
declare that he, for his Pomeranian lands, would take no more share in
the deliberations of the senile Diet at Ratisbon which took no notice
of that outrage. Moreover, Ratisbon was now merely the second city of
Bavaria, whose King might easily deny to that body its local
habitation; and the use of the term Germanic Confederation in the
Treaty of Pressburg sounded the death-knell of an Empire which
Voltaire with equal wit and truth had described as neither holy, nor
Roman, nor an Empire. In the new age of trenchant realities how could
that venerable figment survive--where the election of the Emperor was
a sham, his coronation a mere parade of tattered robes before a crowd
of landless Serenities, and where the Diet was largely concerned with
regulating the claims of the envoys of princes to sit on seats of red
cloth or on the less honourable green cloth, or with apportioning the
traditional thirty-seven dishes of the imperial banquet so that the
last should be borne by a Westphalian envoy?[84]

Among these spectral survivals of an outworn life the incursion of
Napoleon across the Rhine had aroused a panic not unlike that which
the sturdy form of Æneas cast on the gibbering shades of the Greeks in
the mourning fields of Hades. And when, on August 1st, 1806, the heir
to the Revolution notified to the Diet at Ratisbon that neither he nor
the States of South and Central Germany any longer recognized the
existence of the old Empire, feebler protests arose than came from the
straining throats of the scared comrades of Agamemnon. The Diet itself
uttered no audible sound. The Emperor, Francis II., forthwith declared
that he laid down his crown, absolved all the electors and princes
from their allegiance, and retired within the bounds of the Austrian
Empire.

Thus feebly flickered out the light which had shed splendour on
mediæval Christendom. Kindled in the basilica of St. Peter's on
Christmas Day of the year 800 in an almost mystical union of spiritual
and earthly power, by the blessing of Pope Leo on Karl the Great, it
was now trodden under foot by the chief of a more than Frankish State,
who aspired to unquestioned sway over a dominion as great as that of
the mediæval hero. For Napoleon, as Protector of the Rhenish
Confederation, now controlled most of the German lands that
acknowledged Charlemagne, while his hold on Italy was immeasurably
stronger. Further parallels between two ages and systems so unlike as
those of Charlemagne and his imitator are of course superficial; and
Napoleon's attempt at impressing the imagination of the Germans seems
to us to smack of unreality. Yet we must remember that they were then
the most impressionable and docile of nations, that his attempt was
made with much skill, and that none of the appointed guardians of the
old Empire raised a voice in protest while he imposed a constitution
on the fifteen Princes of the new Confederation.

They included the rulers of South Germany, as well as Dalberg the
Arch-Chancellor, who now took the title of Prince Primate, the
Grand-Duke of Berg, the Landgrave, now Grand-Duke, of Hesse-Darmstadt,
two Princes of the House of Nassau, and seven lesser potentates. In
some cases German laws were abolished in favour of the _Code
Napoléon_. A close offensive and defensive alliance was framed between
France and these States, that were to furnish in all 63,000 troops at
the bidding of the Protector. Napoleon also gained some control over
their fiscal and commercial codes--an important advantage, in view of
the Continental System, that was soon to take definite form.[85]

As a set-off to this surrender of all questions of foreign policy and
many internal rights, what did these rulers receive? As happened
almost uniformly in Napoleon's aggrandizements, he struck a bargain
extremely serviceable to himself, less so to those whose support he
sought, and in which the losses fell crushingly on the weak. His
statecraft in this respect was more cynical than that of the crowned
robbers who had degraded eighteenth-century politics into a game of
grab. Their robberies were at least direct and straightforward. It was
reserved for Napoleon at the Treaty of Campo Formio to win huge gains
mostly at the expense of a weak third party, namely, Venice. He
pursued the same profitable tactics in the Secularizations, when
France and the greater German Powers gained enormously at the final
cost of the Church lands and the little States; and now he ground up
the German domains that were to cement his new Rhenish system.

There were still numbers of Imperial Counts and Knights, as well as
free cities, that had not been absorbed in 1803. The survivors were
now wiped out by Napoleon for the benefit of his Rhenish underlings,
the spoliation being veiled under the term _Mediatization_. The
euphemism claims a brief explanation. In old German law the nobles and
cities that gained local independence by shaking off the control of
the local potentate were termed _immediate_, because they owed
allegiance directly to the Emperor, without any feudal intermediary:
if by mischance they fell under that hated control they were said to
be _mediatized_. This term was now applied to acts that subjected the
knight, or city, not to feudal control, but to complete absorption by
the king or prince of Napoleon's creation. Six Imperial or Free Cities
survived the Secularizations, namely, the three Hanse towns, and
Augsburg, Frankfurt, and Nuremberg. The northern towns still held
their ancient rights; but Augsburg and Nuremberg now fell to the King
of Bavaria, and Frankfurt was bestowed by Napoleon on Dalberg, the
Prince Primate of the Confederation.

German life began to lose much of the quaint diversity beloved of
artists and poets; but it also gained much. No longer did the Count of
Limburg-Styrum parade his army of one colonel, six officers, and two
privates in the valley of the Roehr: he and his passed under the sway
of Murat, and the lapse of these pigmy forces made a national army
possible in the dim future. No more did the Imperial lawyers at
Wetzlar browse on evergreen lawsuits: justice was administered after
the concise methods of Napoleon. The crops of the Swabian peasant were
now comparatively safe from the deer of His Translucency of the castle
hard by; for the spirit of the French Revolution breathed upon the old
game laws and robbed them of their terrors. And the German patriot of
to-day must still confess that the first impulse for reform, however
questionable its motives and brutal its application, came from the new
Charlemagne.

    NOTE TO THE FOURTH EDITION.--In a volume of Essays entitled
    "Napoleonic Studies" (George Bell and Sons, 1904) I have treated
    somewhat fully the questions of Pitt's Continental policy, and of
    Napoleon's relations to the new thought of the age, in two Essays,
    entitled "Pitt's Plans for the Settlement of Europe" and
    "Wordsworth, Schiller, Fichte, and the Idealist Revolt against
    Napoleon."

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXV

THE FALL OF PRUSSIA


We now turn to consider the influence which the founding of the
Rhenish Confederation exerted on the international problems which were
being discussed at Paris. Having gained this diplomatic victory,
Napoleon, it seems, might well afford to be lenient to Prussia, to the
Czar, even to England. Would he seize this opportunity, and soothe the
fears of these Powers by a few timely concessions, or would he press
them all the harder because the third of Germany was now under his
control? Here again he was at the parting of the ways.

As the only obstacles to the conclusion of a durable peace with
England were Sicily and Hanover, it may be well to examine here the
bearing of these questions on the peace of Europe and Napoleon's
future.

It is clear from his letters to Joseph that he had firmly resolved to
conquer Sicily. Before his brother had reached Naples he warned him to
prepare for the expulsion of the Bourbons from that island. For that
purpose the French pushed on into Calabria and began to make extensive
preparations--at the very time when Talleyrand stated to Lord Yarmouth
that the French did not want Sicily. But the English forces defending
that island prepared to deal a blow that would prevent a French
descent. A force of about 5,000 men under Sir John Stuart landed in
the Bay of St. Euphemia: and when, on the 4th of July, 1806, Reynier
led 7,000 troops against them in full assurance of victory, his
choicest battalions sank before the fierce bayonet charge of the
British: in half an hour the French were in full retreat, leaving half
their numbers on the field.

The moral effect of this victory was very great. Hitherto our troops,
except in Egypt, had had no opportunity of showing their splendid
qualities. More than half a century had passed since at Minden a
British force had triumphed over a French force in Europe; and
Napoleon expressed the current opinion when he declared to Joseph his
joy that at last the _slow and clumsy English_ had ventured on the
mainland.[86] Moreover, the success at Maida, the general rising of
the Calabrias that speedily followed, and Stuart's capture of Reggio,
Cortone, and other towns, with large stores and forty cannon destined
for the conquest of Sicily, scattered to the winds the French hope of
carrying Sicily by a _coup de main_.

If there was any chance of the Russian and British Governments
deserting the cause of the Bourbons, it was ended by the news from the
Mediterranean; and Napoleon now realized that the mastery of that
sea--"_the principal and constant aim of my policy_"--had once more
slipped from his grasp! On their side the Bourbons were unduly elated
by a further success which was more brilliant than solid. Queen
Caroline, excited at the capture of Capri by Sir Sidney Smith, sought
to rouse all her lost provinces: she intrigued behind the back of the
King and of General Acton, while the knight-errant succeeded in
paralyzing the plans of Sir John Stuart.[87] Meanwhile Masséna, after
reducing the fortress of Gaëta to surrender, marched southward with a
large force, and the British and Bourbon forces re-embarked for
Sicily, leaving the fierce peasants and bandits of Calabria to the
mercies of the conquerors. But Maida was not fought in vain. Sicily
thenceforth was safe, the British army regained something of its
ancient fame, and the hope of resisting Napoleon was strengthened both
at St. Petersburg and London.

Peace can rarely be attained unless one of the combatants is overcome
or both are exhausted. But neither Great Britain nor France was in
this position. By sea our successes had been as continuous as those of
Napoleon over our allies on land. In January we captured the Cape from
the Dutch: in February the French force at St. Domingo surrendered to
Sir James Duckworth: Admiral Warren in March closed the career of the
adventurous Linois; and early in July a British force seized great
treasure at Buenos Ayres, whence, however, it was soon obliged to
retire. After these successes Fox could not but be firm. He refused to
budge from the standpoint of _uti possidetis_ which our envoy had
stated as the basis of negotiations: and the Earl of Lauderdale, who
was sent to support and finally to supersede the Earl of Yarmouth, at
once took a firm tone which drew forth a truculent rejoinder. If that
was to be the basis, wrote Clarke, the French plenipotentiary, then
France would require Moravia, Styria, the whole of Austria (Proper),
and Hanover, and in that case leave England her few colonial
conquests.

This reply of August 8th nearly severed the negotiations on the spot:
but Talleyrand persistently refused to grant the passports which
Lauderdale demanded--evidently in the hope that the Czar's
ratification of Oubril's treaty would cause us to give up Sicily.[88]
He was in error. On September 3rd the news reached Paris that
Alexander scornfully rejected his envoy's handiwork. Nevertheless,
Napoleon refused to forego his claims to Sicily; and the closing days
of Fox were embittered by the thought that this negotiation, the last
hope of a career fruitful in disappointments, was doomed to failure.
After using his splendid eloquence for fifteen years in defence of the
Revolution and its "heir," he came to the bitter conclusion that
liberty had miscarried in France, and that that land had bent beneath
the yoke in order the more completely to subjugate the Continent. He
died on September 13th.

French historians, following an article in the "Moniteur" of November
26th, have often asserted that the death of Fox and the accession to
power of the warlike faction changed the character of the
negotiations.[89] Nothing can be further from the truth. Not long
before his end, Fox thus expressed to his nephew his despair of peace:

    "We can in honour do nothing without the full and _bona fide_
    consent of the Queen and Court of Naples; but, even exclusive of
    that consideration and of the great importance of Sicily, it is
    not so much the value of the point in dispute as the manner in
    which the French fly from their word that disheartens me. It is
    not Sicily, but the shuffling, insincere way in which they act,
    that shows me that they are playing a false game; and in that case
    it would be very imprudent to make any concessions, which by any
    possibility could be thought inconsistent with our honour, or
    could furnish our allies with a plausible pretence for suspecting,
    reproaching, or deserting us."

It is further to be noted that Lauderdale stayed on at Paris three
weeks after the death of Fox; that he put forward no new demand, but
required that Talleyrand should revert to his first promise of
renouncing all claim to Sicily, and should treat conjointly with
England and Russia. It was in vain. Napoleon's final concessions were
that the Bourbons, after losing Sicily, should have the Balearic Isles
and be pensioned _by Spain_; that Russia should hold Corfu (as she
already did); and that we should recover Hanover from Prussia, and
keep Malta, the Cape, Tobago, and the three French towns in India;
but, except Hanover, all of these were in our power. On Sicily he
would not bate one jot of his pretensions. The negotiations were
therefore broken off on October 6th, twelve days after Napoleon left
Paris to marshal his troops against Prussia.[90] The whole affair
revealed Napoleon's determination to trick the allies into signing
separate and disadvantageous treaties, and thus to regain by craft the
ground which he had lost in fair fight at Maida.

If Sicily was the rock of stumbling between us and Napoleon, Hanover
was the chief cause of the war between France and Prussia. During the
negotiations at Paris, Lord Yarmouth privately informed Lucchesini,
the Prussian ambassador, that Talleyrand made no difficulty about the
restitution of Hanover to George III. The news, when forwarded to
Berlin at the close of July, caused a nervous flutter in ministerial
circles, where every effort was being made to keep on good terms with
France.

Even before this news arrived, the task was far from easy. Murat, when
occupying his new Duchy of Berg, pushed on his troops into the old
Church lands of Essen and Werden. Prussia looked on these districts as
her own, and the sturdy patriot Blücher at once marched in his
soldiers, tore down Murat's proclamations, and restored the Prussian
eagle with blare of trumpet and beat of drum.[91] A collision was with
difficulty averted by the complaisance of Frederick William, who
called back his troops and referred the question to lawyers; but even
the King was piqued when the Grand-Duke of Berg sent him a letter of
remonstrance on Blücher's conduct, commencing with the familiar
address, _Mon frère_.

Blücher meanwhile and the soldiery were eating out their hearts with
rage, as they saw the French pouring across the Rhine, and
constructing a bridge of boats at Wesel; and had they known that that
important stronghold, the key of North Germany, was quietly declared
to be a French garrison town, they would probably have forced the
hands of the King.[92] For at this time Frederick William and Haugwitz
were alarmed by the formation of the Rhenish Confederation, and were
not wholly reassured by Napoleon's suggestion that the abolition of
the old Empire must be an advantage to Prussia. They clutched eagerly,
however, at his proposal that Prussia should form a league of the
North German States, and made overtures to the two most important
States, Saxony and Hesse-Cassel. During a few halcyon days the King
even proposed to assume the title _Emperor of Prussia_, from which,
however, the Elector of Saxony ironically dissuaded him. This castle
in the air faded away when news reached Berlin at the beginning of
August that Napoleon was seeking to bring the Elector of Hesse-Cassel
into the Rhenish Confederation, and was offering as a bait the domains
of some Imperial Knights and the principality of Fulda, now held by
the Prince of Orange, a relative of Frederick William. Moreover, the
moves of the French troops in Thuringia were so threatening to Saxony
that the Court of Dresden began to scout the project of a North German
Confederation.

Still, the King and Haugwitz tried to persuade themselves that
Napoleon meant well for Prussia, that England had been doing her
utmost to make bad blood between the two allies, and that "great
results could not be attained without some friction." In this hope
they were encouraged by the French ambassador, the man who had enticed
Prussia to her demobilization. He was charged by Talleyrand to report
at Berlin that "peace with England would be made, as well as with
Russia, if France had consented to the restitution of Hanover.--I have
renewed," added Laforest, "the assurance that the Emperor [Napoleon]
would never yield on this point."

And yet at that very time the French Foreign Office was at work upon a
Project of a Treaty in which the restitution of Hanover to George III.
was expressly named and received the assent of Napoleon.[93] The
Prussian ambassador, Lucchesini, had some inkling of this from French
sources,[94] as well as from Lord Yarmouth, and on July 28th penned a
despatch which fell like a thunderbolt on the optimists of Berlin. It
crossed on the way--such is the irony of diplomacy--a despatch from
Berlin that required him to show unlimited confidence in Napoleon.
From confidence the King now rushed to the opposite extreme, and saw
Napoleon's hand in all the friction of the last few weeks.

Here again he was wrong; for the French Emperor had held back Murat
and the other hot-bloods of the army who were longing to measure
swords with Prussia.[95] His correspondence proves that his first
thoughts were always in the Mediterranean. For one page that he wrote
about German affairs he wrote twenty to Joseph or Eugène on the need
of keeping a firm hand and punishing Calabrian rebels--"shoot three
men in every village"--above all, on the plans for conquering Sicily.
It was therefore with real surprise that on August 16th-18th he learnt
from a purloined despatch of Lucchesini that the latter suspected him
of planning with the Czar the partition of Prussian Poland. He treated
the matter with contempt, and seems to have thought that Prussia would
meekly accept the morsels which he proposed to throw to her in place
of Hanover. But he misread the character of Frederick William, if he
thought so grievous an insult would be passed over, and he knew not
the power of the Prussian Queen to kindle the fire of patriotism.

Queen Louisa was at this time thirty years of age and in the flower of
that noble matronly beauty which bespoke a pure and exalted being. As
daughter of a poverty-stricken prince of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, her
youth had been spent in the homeliest fashion, until her charms won
the heart of the Crown Prince of Prussia. Her first entry into Berlin
was graced by an act that proclaimed a loving nature. When a group of
children dressed in white greeted her with verses of welcome, she
lifted up and kissed their little leader, to the scandal of stiff
dowagers, and the joy of the citizens. The incident recalls the easy
grace and disregard of etiquette shown by Marie Antoinette at
Versailles in her young bridal days; and, in truth, these queens have
something in common, besides their loveliness and their misfortunes.
Both were mated with cold and uninspiring consorts. Destiny had
refused both to Frederick William and to Louis XVI. the power of
exciting feelings warmer than the esteem and respect due to a worthy
man; and all the fervour of loyalty was aroused by their queens.

Louisa was a North German Marie Antoinette, but more staid and homely
than the vivacious daughter of Maria Theresa. Neither did she
interfere much in politics, until the great crash came: even when the
blow was impending, and the patriotic statesmen, with whom she
sympathized, begged the King to remove Haugwitz, she disappointed them
by withholding the entreaties which her instincts urged but her wifely
obedience restrained. Her influence as yet was that of a noble,
fascinating woman, who softened the jars occasioned by the King's
narrow and pedantic nature, and purified the Court from the grossness
of the past. But in the dark days that were to come, her faith and
enthusiasm breathed new force into a down-trodden people; and where
all else was shattered, the King and Queen still held forth the ideal
of that first and strongest of Teutonic institutions, a pure family
life.

The "Memoirs" of Hardenberg show that the Queen quietly upheld the
patriotic cause;[96] and in the tone of the letter that Frederick
William wrote to the Czar (August 8th) there is something of feminine
resentment against the French Emperor: after recounting his grievances
at Napoleon's hands, he continued:

    "If the news be true, if he be capable of perfidy so black, be
    convinced, Sire, that it is not merely a question about Hanover
    between him and me, but that he has decided to make war against me
    at all costs. He wants no other Power beside his own.... Tell me,
    Sire, I conjure you, if I may hope that your troops will be within
    reach of succour for me, and if I may count on them in case of
    aggression."

Alexander wrote a cheering response, advising him to settle his
differences with England and Sweden, and assuring him of help.
Whereupon the King replied (September 6th) that he had reopened the
North Sea rivers to British ships and hoped for peace and pecuniary
help from London. He concluded thus:

    "Meanwhile, Bonaparte has left me at my ease: for not only does he
    not enter into any explanation about my armaments, but he has even
    forbidden his Ministers to give and receive any explanations
    whatever. It appears, then, that it is I who am to take the
    initiative. My troops are marching on all sides to hasten that
    moment."[97]

These last sentences are the handwriting on the wall for the _ancien
régime_ in Prussia. Taking the bland assurances of Talleyrand and the
studied indifference of Laforest as signs that Napoleon might be
caught off his guard, Prussia continued her warlike preparations; and
in order to gain time Lucchesini was recalled and replaced by an envoy
who was to enter into lengthy explanations. The trick did not deceive
Napoleon, who on September 3rd had heard with much surprise that
Russia meant to continue the war. At once he saw the germ of a new
Coalition, and bent his energies to the task of conciliating Austria,
and of fomenting the disputes between Russia and Turkey. Towards
Frederick William his tone was that of a friend who grieves at an
unexpected quarrel. How--he exclaimed to Lucchesini on the
ambassador's departure--how could the King credit him with encouraging
the intrigues of a fussy ambassador at Cassel or the bluster of Murat?

As for Hanover, he had intended sending some one to Berlin to propose
an equivalent for it in case England still made its restitution a
_sine qua non_ of peace. "But," he added, "if your young officers and
your women at Berlin want war, I am preparing to satisfy them. Yet my
ambition turns wholly to Italy. She is a mistress whose favours I will
share with no one. I will have all the Adriatic. The Pope shall be my
vassal, and I will conquer Sicily. On North Germany I have no claims:
I do not object to the Hanse towns entering your confederation. As to
the inclusion of Saxony in it, my mind is not yet made up."[98]

Indeed, the tenor of his private correspondence proves that before the
first week of September he did not expect a new Coalition. He believed
that England and Russia would give way before him, and that Prussia
would never dare to stir. For the Court of Berlin he had a sovereign
contempt, as for the "old coalition machines" in general. His conduct
of affairs at this time betokens, not so much desire for war as lack
of imagination where other persons' susceptibilities are concerned. It
is probable that he then wanted peace with England and peace on the
Continent; for his diplomacy won conquests fully as valuable as the
booty of his sword, and only in a naval peace could he lay the
foundations of that oriental empire which, he assured O'Meara at St.
Helena, held the first place in his thoughts after the overthrow of
Austria. But it was not in his nature to make the needful concessions.
"_I must follow my policy in a geometrical line_" he said to
Lucchesini. England might have Hanover and a few colonies if she would
let Sicily go to a Bonaparte: as for Prussia, she might absorb
half-a-dozen neighbouring princelings.

That is the gist of Napoleon's European policy in the summer of 1806;
and the surprise which he expressed to Mollien at the rejection of his
offers is probably genuine. Sensitive to the least insult himself, his
bluntness of perception respecting the honour of others might almost
qualify him to rank with Aristotle's man devoid of feeling. It is
perfectly true that he did not make war on Prussia in 1806 any more
than on England in 1803. He only made peace impossible.[99]

The condition on which Prussia now urgently insisted was the entire
evacuation of Germany by French troops. This Napoleon refused to
concede until Frederick William demobilized his army, a step that
would have once more humbled him in the eyes of this people. It might
even have led to his dethronement. For an incident had just occurred
in Bavaria that fanned German sentiment to a flame. A bookseller of
Nuremberg, named Palm, was proved by French officers to have sold an
anonymous pamphlet entitled "Germany in her deep Humiliation." It was
by no means of a revolutionary type, and the worthy man believed it to
be a mistake when he was arrested by the military authorities. He was
wrong. Napoleon had sent orders that a terrible example must be made
in order to stop the sale of patriotic German pamphlets. Palm was
therefore haled away to Braunau, an Austrian town then held by French
troops, was tried by martial law and shot (August 25th). Never did the
Emperor commit a greater blunder. The outrage sent a thrill of
indignation through the length and breadth of Germany. Instead of
quenching, it inflamed the national sentiment, and thus rendered
doubly difficult any peaceful compromise between Frederick William and
Napoleon. The latter was now looked upon as a tyrant by the citizen
class which his reforms were designed to conciliate: and Frederick
William became almost the champion of Germany when he demanded the
withdrawal of the French troops.

Unfortunately, the King refused to appoint Ministers who inspired
confidence. With Hardenberg in place of Haugwitz, men would have felt
sure that the sword would not again be tamely sheathed; great efforts
were made to effect this change, but met with a chilling repulse from
the King.[100] It is true that Haugwitz and Beyme now expressed the
bitterest hatred of Napoleon, as well they might for a man who had
betrayed their confidence. But, none the less, the King's refusal to
change his men along with his policy was fatal. Both at St. Petersburg
and London no trust was felt in Prussia as long as Haugwitz was at the
helm. The man who had twice steered the ship of state under Napoleon's
guns might do it again; and both England and Russia waited to see some
irrevocable step taken before they again risked an army for that
prince of waverers.

Grenville rather tardily sent Lord Morpeth to arrange an alliance, but
only after he should receive a solemn pledge that Hanover would be
restored. That envoy approached the Prussian headquarters just in time
to be swept away in the torrent of fugitives from Jena. As for Russia,
she had awaited the arrival of a Prussian officer at St. Petersburg to
concert a plan of campaign. When he arrived he had no plan; and the
Czar, perplexed by the fatuity of his ally, and the hostility of the
Turks, refused to march his troops forthwith into Prussia.[101]
Equally disappointing was the conduct of Austria. This Power, bleeding
from the wounds of last year and smarting under the jealousy of
Russia, refused to move until the allies had won a victory. And so,
thanks to the jealousies of the old monarchies, Frederick William had
no Russian or Austrian troops at his side, no sinews of war from
London to invigorate his preparations, when he staked his all in the
high places of Thuringia. He gained, it is true, the support of Saxony
and Weimar; but this brought less than 21,000 men to his side.

On the other hand, Napoleon, as Protector of the Rhenish
Confederation, secured the aid of 25,000 South Germans, as well as an
excellent fortified base at Würzburg. His troops, holding the citadels
of Passau and Braunau on the Austrian frontier, kept the Hapsburgs
quiet; and 60,000 French and Dutch troops at Wesel menaced the
Prussians in Hanover. Above all, his forces already in Germany were
strengthened until, in the early days of October, some 200,000 men
were marching from the Main towards the Duchy of Weimar. Soult and Ney
led 60,000 men from Amberg towards Baireuth and Hof: Bernadotte and
Davoust, with 90,000, marched towards Schleitz, while Lannes and
Augereau, with 46,000, moved by a road further to the left towards
Saalfeld.

The progress of these dense columns near together and through a hilly
country presented great difficulties, which only the experience of the
officers, the energy and patience of the men, and the genius of their
great leader could overcome. Meanwhile Napoleon had quietly left Paris
on September 25th. Travelling at his usual rapid rate, he reached
Mainz on the 28th: he was at Würzburg on October 2nd; there he
directed the operations, confident that the impact of his immense
force would speedily break the Prussians, drive them down the valley
of the Saale and thus detach the Elector of Saxony from an alliance
that already was irksome.

The French, therefore, had a vast mass of seasoned fighters, a good
base of operations, and a clear plan of attack. The Prussians, on the
contrary, could muster barely 128,000 men, including the Saxons, for
service in the field; and of these 27,000 with Rüchel were on the
frontier of Hesse-Cassel seeking to assure the alliance of the
Elector. The commander-in-chief was the septuagenarian Duke of
Brunswick, well known for his failure at Valmy in 1792 and his recent
support to the policy of complaisance to France. His appointment
aroused anger and consternation; and General Kalckreuth expressed to
Gentz the general opinion when he said that the Duke was quite
incompetent for such a command: "His character is not strong enough,
his mediocrity, irresolution, and untrustworthiness would ruin the
best undertaking." The Duke himself was aware of his incompetence. Why
then, we ask, did he accept the command? The answer is startling; but
it rests on the evidence of General von Müffling:

    "The Duke of Brunswick had accepted the command _in order to avert
    war_. I can affirm this with perfect certainty, since I have heard
    it from his own lips more than once. He was fully aware of the
    weaknesses of the Prussian army and the incompetence of its
    officers."[102]

Thus there was seen the strange sight of a diffident, peace-loving
King accompanying the army and sharing in all the deliberations; while
these were nominally presided over by a despondent old man who still
intrigued to preserve peace, and shifted on to the King the
responsibility of every important act. And yet there were able
generals who could have acted with effect, even if they fell short of
the opinion hopefully bruited by General Rüchel, that "several were
equal to M. de Bonaparte." Events were to prove that Gneisenau,
Scharnhorst, and Blücher rivalled the best of the French Marshals; but
in this war their lights were placed under bushels and only shone
forth when the official covers had been shattered. Scharnhorst,
already renowned for his strategic and administrative genius, took
part in some of the many councils of war where everything was
discussed and little was decided; but his opinion had no weight, for
on October 7th he wrote: "What we ought to do I know right well, what
we _shall_ do only the gods know."[103] He evidently referred to the
need of concentration. At that time the thin Prussian lines were
spread out over a front of eighty-five miles, the Saxons being near
Gera, the chief army, under Brunswick, at Erfurth, while Rüchel was so
far distant on the west that he could only come up at Jena just one
hour too late to avert disaster.

And yet with these weak and scattered forces, Prince Hohenlohe
proposed a bold move forward to the Main. Brunswick, on the other
hand, counselled a prudent defensive; but he could not, or would not,
enforce his plan; and the result was an oscillation between the two
extremes. Had he massed all his forces so as to command the valleys of
the Saale and Elster near Jena and Gera, the campaign might possibly
have been prolonged until the Russians came up. As it was, the allies
dulled the ardour of their troops by marches, counter-marches, and
interminable councils-of-war, while Napoleon's columns were threading
their way along those valleys at the average rate of fifteen miles a
day, in order to turn the allied left and cut the connection between
Prussia and Saxony.[104]

The first serious fighting was on October the 10th at Saalfeld, where
Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia with a small force sought to protect
Hohenlohe's flank march westwards on Jena. The task was beyond the
strength even of this flower of Prussian chivalry. He was overpowered
by the weight and vigour of Lannes' attack, and when already wounded
in a cavalry _mêlée_ was pierced through the body by an officer to
whom he proudly refused to surrender. The death of this hero, the
"Alcibiades" of Prussia, cast a gloom over the whole army, and
mournful faces at headquarters seemed to presage yet worse disasters.
Perhaps it was some inkling of this discouragement, or a laudable
desire to stop "an impolitic war," that urged Napoleon two days later
to pen a letter to the King of Prussia urging him to make peace before
he was crushed, as he assuredly would be. In itself the letter seems
admirable--until one remembers the circumstances of the case. The King
had pledged his word to the Czar to make war; if, therefore, he now
made peace and sent the Russians back, he would once more stand
condemned of preferring dishonourable ease to the noble hazards of an
affair of honour. As Napoleon was aware of the union of the King and
Czar, this letter must be regarded as an attempt to dissolve the
alliance and tarnish Frederick William's reputation. It was viewed in
that light by that monarch; and there is not a hint in Napoleon's
other letters that he really expected peace.

He was then at Gera, pushing forward his corps towards Naumburg so as
to cut off the Prussians from Saxony and the Elbe. Great as was his
superiority, these movements occasioned such a dispersion of his
forces as to invite attack from enterprising foes; but he despised the
Prussian generals as imbeciles, and endeavoured to unsteady their rank
and file by seizing and burning their military stores at the latter
town. He certainly believed that they were all in retreat northwards,
and great was his surprise when he heard from Lannes early on October
13th that his scouts, after scaling the hills behind Jena in a dense
mist, had come upon the Prussian army. The news was only partly
correct. It was only Hohenlohe's corps: for the bulk of that army,
under Brunswick, was retreating northwards, and nearly stumbled upon
the corps of Davoust and Bernadotte behind Naumburg.

Lannes also was in danger on the Landgrafenberg. This is a lofty hill
which towers above the town of Jena and the narrow winding vale of the
Saale; while its other slopes, to the north and west, rise above and
dominate the broken and irregular plateau on which Hohenlohe's force
was encamped. Had the Prussians attacked his weary regiments in force,
they might easily have hurled them into the Saale. But Hohenlohe had
received orders to retire northwards in the rear of Brunswick, as soon
as he had rallied the detachment of Rüchel near Weimar, and was
therefore indisposed to venture on the bold offensive which now was
his only means of safety. The respite thus granted was used by the
French to hurry every available regiment up the slopes north and west
of Jena. Late in the afternoon, Napoleon himself ascended the
Landgrafenberg to survey the plateau; while a pastor of the town was
compelled to show a path further north which leads to the same plateau
through a gulley called the Rau-thal.[105]

[Illustration: BATTLE OF JENA]

On the south the heights sink away into a wider valley, the Mühl-thal,
along which runs the road to Weimar; and on this side too their wooded
brows are broken by gulleys, up one of which runs a winding track
known as the Schnecke or Snail. Villages and woods diversified the
plateau and hindered the free use of that extended line formation on
which the Prussians relied, while favouring the operations of dense
columns preceded by clouds of skirmishers by which Napoleon so often
hewed his way to victory. His greatest advantage, however, lay in the
ignorance of his foes. Hohenlohe, believing that he was confronted
only by Lannes' corps, took little thought about what was going on in
his front, and judging the Mühl-thal approach alone to be accessible,
posted his chief force on this side. So insufficient a guard was
therefore kept on the side of the Landgrafenberg that the French,
under cover of the darkness, not only crowned the summit densely with
troops, but dragged up whole batteries of cannon.

The toil was stupendous: in one of the steep hollow tracks a number of
cannon and wagons stuck fast; but the Emperor, making his rounds at
midnight, brought the magic of his presence to aid the weary troops
and rebuke the officers whose negligence had caused this block.
Lantern in hand, he went up and down the line to direct the work; and
Savary, who saw this scene, noted the wonder of the men, as they
caught sight of the Emperor, the renewed energy of their blows at the
rocks, and their whispers of surprise that _he_ should come in person
when their officers were asleep. The night was far spent when, after
seeing the first wagon right through the narrow steep, he repaired to
his bivouac amidst his Guards on the summit, and issued further orders
before snatching a brief repose. By such untiring energy did he assure
victory. Apart from its immense effect on the spirits of his troops,
his vigilance reaped a rich reward. Jena was won by a rapid
concentration of troops, and the prompt seizure of a commanding
position almost under the eyes of an unenterprising enemy. The corps
of Soult and Ney spent most of the night and early morning in marching
towards Jena and taking up their positions on the right or north wing,
while Lannes and the Guard held the central height, and Augereau's
corps in the Mühl-thal threatened the Saxons and Prussians guarding
the Schnecke.[106]

A dense fog screened the moves of the assailants early on the morrow,
and, after some confused but obstinate fighting, the French secured
their hold on the plateau not only above the town of Jena, where their
onset took the Prussians by surprise, but also above the Mühl-thal,
where the enemy were in force.

By ten o'clock the fog lifted, and the warm rays of the autumn sun
showed the dense masses of the French advancing towards the middle of
the plateau. Hohenlohe now saw the full extent of his error and
despatched an urgent message to Rüchel for aid. It was too late. The
French centre, led by Lannes, began to push back the Prussian lines on
the village named Vierzehn Heiligen. It was in vain that Hohenlohe's
choice squadrons flung themselves on the serried masses in front: the
artillery and musketry fire disordered them, while French dragoons
were ready to profit by their confusion. The village was lost, then
retaken by a rally of the Prussians, then lost again when Ney was
reinforced; and when the full vigour of the French attack was
developed by the advance of Soult and Augereau on either wing,
Napoleon launched his reserves, his Guard, and Murat's squadrons on
the disordered lines. The impact was irresistible, and Hohenlohe's
force was swept away. Then it was that Rüchel's force drew near, and
strove to stem the rout. Advancing steadily, as if on parade, his
troops for a brief space held up the French onset; but neither the
dash of the Prussian horse nor the bravery of the foot-soldiers could
dam that mighty tide, which laid low the gallant leader and swept his
lines away into the general wreck.[107]

In the headlong flight before Murat's horsemen, the fugitives fell in
with another beaten array, that of Brunswick. At Jena the Prussians,
if defeated, were not disgraced: before the first shot was fired their
defeat was a mathematical certainty. At the crisis of the battle they
had but 47,400 men at hand, while Napoleon then disposed of 83,600
combatants.[108] But at Auerstädt they were driven back and disgraced.
There they had a decided superiority in numbers, having more than
35,000 of their choicest troops, while opposite to them stood only the
27,000 men of Davoust's corps.

Hitherto Davoust had been remarkable rather for his dog-like devotion
to Napoleon than for any martial genius; and the brilliant Marmont had
openly scoffed at his receiving the title of Marshal. But, under his
quiet exterior and plodding habits, there lay concealed a variety of
gifts which only needed a great occasion to shine forth and astonish
the world.[109] The time was now at hand. Frederick William and
Brunswick were marching from Auerstädt to make good their retreat on
the Elbe, when their foremost horsemen, led by the gallant Blücher,
saw a solid wall of French infantry loom through the morning fog. It
was part of Davoust's corps, strongly posted in and around the village
of Hassenhausen.

At once Blücher charged, only to be driven back with severe loss.
Again he came on, this time supported by infantry and cannon: again he
was repulsed; for Davoust, aided by the fog, had seized the
neighbouring heights which commanded the high road, and held them with
firm grip. Determined to brush aside or crush this stubborn foe, the
Duke of Brunswick now led heavy masses along the narrow defile; but
the steady fire of the French laid him low, with most of the officers;
and as the Prussians fell back, Davoust swung forward his men to
threaten their flanks. The King was dismayed at these repeated checks,
and though the Prussian reserves under Kalckreuth could have been
called up to overwhelm the hard-pressed French by the weight of
numbers, yet he judged it better to draw off his men and fall back on
Hohenlohe for support.

But what a support! Instead of an army, it was a terrified mob flying
before Murat's sabres, that met them halfway between Auerstädt and
Weimar. Threatened also by Bernadotte's corps on their left flank, the
two Prussian armies now melted away in one indistinguishable torrent,
that was stemmed only by the sheltering walls of Erfurt, Magdeburg,
and of fortresses yet more remote.

Of the twin battles of Jena and Auerstädt, the latter was
unquestionably the more glorious for the French arms. That Napoleon
should have beaten an army of little more than half his numbers is in
no way remarkable. What is strange is that so consummate a leader
should have been entirely ignorant of the distribution of the enemy's
forces, and should have left Davoust with only 27,000 men exposed to
the attack of Brunswick with nearly 40,000.[110] In his bulletins, as
in the "Relation Officielle," the Emperor sought to gloze over his
error by magnifying Hohenlohe's corps into a great army and
attenuating Davoust's splendid exploit, which in his private letters
he warmly praised. The fact is, he had made all his dispositions in
the belief that he had the main body of the Prussians before him at
Jena.

That is why, on the afternoon of the 13th, he hastily sent to recall
Murat's horse and Bernadotte's corps from Naumburg and its vicinity;
and in consequence Bernadotte took no very active part in the
fighting. For this he has been bitterly blamed, on the strength of an
assertion that Napoleon during the night of the 13th-14th sent him an
order to support Davoust. This order has never been produced, and it
finds no place in the latest and fullest collection of French official
despatches, which, however, contains some that fully exonerate
Bernadotte.[111] Unfortunately for Bernadotte's fame, the tattle of
memoir writers is more attractive and gains more currency than the
prosaic facts of despatches.

Fortune plays an immense part in warfare; and never did she favour the
Emperor more than on October the 14th, 1806. Fortune and the skill and
bravery of Davoust and his corps turned what might have been an almost
doubtful conflict into an overwhelming victory. Though Napoleon was as
ignorant of the movements of Brunswick as he was of the flank march of
Blücher at Waterloo, yet the enterprise and tenacity of Davoust and
Lannes yielded him, on the Thuringian heights, a triumph scarcely
paralleled in the annals of war. It is difficult to overpraise those
Marshals for the energy with which they clung to the foe and brought
on a battle under conditions highly favourable to the French: without
their efforts, the Prussian army could never have been shattered on a
single day.

The flood of invasion now roared down the Thuringian valleys and
deluged the plains of Saxony and Brandenburg. Rivers and ramparts were
alike helpless to stay that all-devouring tide. On October the 16th,
16,000 men surrendered at Erfurt to Murat: then, spurring eastward,
_le beau sabreur_ rushed on the wreck of Hohenlohe's force, and with
the aid of Lannes' untiring corps compelled it to surrender at
Prenzlau.[112] Blücher meanwhile stubbornly retreated to the north;
but, with Murat, Soult, and Bernadotte dogging his steps, he finally
threw himself into Lübeck, where, after a last desperate effort, he
surrendered to overpowering numbers (November 7th).

Here the gloom of defeat was relieved by gleams of heroism; but before
the walls of other Prussian strongholds disaster was blackened by
disgrace. Held by timid old men or nerveless pedants, they scarcely
waited for a vigorous attack. A few cannon-shots, or even a
demonstration of cavalry, generally brought out the white flag. In
quick succession, Spandau, Stettin, Küstrin, Magdeburg, and Hameln
opened their gates, the governor of the last-named being mainly
concerned about securing his future retiring pension from the French
as soon as Hanover passed into their keeping.

Amidst these shameful surrenders the capital fell into the hands of
Davoust (October 25th). Varnhagen von Ense had described his mingled
surprise and admiration at seeing those "lively, impudent,
mean-looking little fellows," who had beaten the splendid soldiers
trained in the school of Frederick the Great. His wonder was natural;
but all who looked beneath the surface well knew that Prussia was
overthrown before the first shot was fired. She was the victim of a
deadening barrack routine, of official apathy or corruption, and of a
degrading policy which dulled the enthusiasm of her sons.

Thirteen days after the great battle, Napoleon himself entered Berlin
in triumph. It was the first time that he allowed himself a victor's
privilege, and no pains were spared to impress the imagination of
mankind by a parade of his choicest troops. First came the foot
grenadiers and chasseurs of the Imperial Guard: behind the central
group marched other squadrons and battalions of these veterans,
already famed as the doughtiest fighters of their age. In their midst
came the mind of this military machine--Napoleon, accompanied by three
Marshals and a brilliant staff. Among them men noted the plain,
soldierlike Berthier, the ever trusty and methodical chief of the
staff. At his side rode Davoust, whose round and placid face gave
little promise of his rapid rush to the front rank among the French
paladins. There too was the tall, handsome, threatening form of
Augereau, whose services at Jena, meritorious as they were, scarcely
maintained his fame at the high level to which it soared at
Castiglione. Then came Napoleon's favourite aide-de-camp, Duroc, a
short, stern, war-hardened man, well known in Berlin, where twice he
had sought to rivet close the bonds of the French alliance.

Above all, the gaze of the awe-struck crowd was fixed on the figure of
the chief, now grown to the roundness of robust health amidst toils
that would have worn most men to a shadow; and on the face, no longer
thin with the unsatisfied longings of youth, but square and full with
toil requited and ambition wellnigh sated--a visage redeemed from the
coarseness of the epicure's only by the knitted brows that bespoke
ceaseless thought, and by the keen, melancholy, unfathomable eyes.


NOTE ADDED TO THE FOURTH EDITION

    Several facts of considerable interest and importance respecting
    the Anglo-French negotiations of 1806 have been brought to light
    by M. Coquelle in his recently published work "Napoleon and
    England, 1803-1813," chapters xi.-xvii. (George Bell and Sons,
    1904).

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVI

THE CONTINENTAL SYSTEM: FRIEDLAND

    "I know full well that London is a corner of the world, and that
    Paris is its centre."--_Letter of Napoleon_, August 18th, 1806.

On the 21st of November, 1806, Napoleon issued at Berlin the decree
which proclaimed open and unrelenting war on English industry and
commerce, a war that was to embroil the whole civilized world and
cease only with his overthrow. After reciting his complaints against
the English maritime code, he declared the British Isles to be in a
state of blockade, interdicted all commerce with them, threatened
seizure and imprisonment to English goods and subjects wherever found
by French or allied troops, forbade all trade in English and colonial
wares, and excluded from French and allied ports any ship that had
touched at those of Great Britain; while any ship that connived at the
infraction of the present decree was to be held a good prize of
war.[113] This ukase, which was binding for France, Italy,
Switzerland, Holland, and the Rhenish Confederation, formed the
foundation of the Continental System, a term applicable to the sum
total of the measures that aimed at ruining England by excluding her
goods from the Continent.

The plan of strangling Britain by her own wealth was not peculiar to
Napoleon. In common with much of his political stock-in-trade he had
it from the Jacobins, who stoutly maintained that England's wealth was
fictitious and would collapse as soon as her commerce was attacked in
the Indies and excluded from the Rhine and Elbe. At first the
fulminations of Parisian legislators fell idly on the stately pile of
British industry; but when the young Bonaparte appeared on the scene,
the commercial warfare became serious. As soon as his victories in
Italy widened the sphere of French influence, the Directory banned the
entry of all our products, counting all cotton and woollen goods as
English unless the contrary could be proved by certificates of
origin.[114] Public opinion in France, which, unless held in by an
intelligent monarch, has always swung towards protection or
prohibition, welcomed that vigorous measure; and great was the outcry
of manufacturers when it was rumoured in 1802 that Napoleon was about
to make a commercial treaty with the national enemy. Tradition and
custom, therefore, were all on his side, when, after Trafalgar, he
concentrated all his energy on his "coast-system."[115]

Ostensibly the Berlin Decree was a retort to our Order in Council of
May 16th, 1806, which declared all the coast between Brest and the
Elbe in a state of blockade; and French historians have defended it on
this ground, asserting that it was a necessary reply to England's
aggressive action.[116] But this plea can scarcely be maintained. The
aggressor, surely, was the man who forced Prussia to close the neutral
North German coast to British goods (February, 1806). Besides, there
is indirect proof that Napoleon looked on our blockade of the northern
coasts as not unreasonable. In his subsequent negotiations with us, he
raised no protest against it, and made no difficulty about our
maritime code: if we would let him seize Sicily, we might, it seems,
have re-enacted that code in all its earlier stringency. Far from
doing so, Fox and his successors relaxed the blockade of North
Germany; and by an order dated September 25th, the coast between the
Elbe and the Ems was declared free.

Napoleon's grievance against us was thereby materially lessened, and
his protest against fictitious blockades in the preamble of the Berlin
Decree really applied only to our action on the coast between the
Helder and Brest, where our cruisers were watching the naval
preparations still going on. His retort in the interests of outraged
law was certainly curious; he declared our 3,000 miles of coast in a
state of blockade--a mere _brutum fulmen_ in point of fact, but
designed to give a show of legality to his Continental System. Yet,
apart from this thin pretext, he troubled very little about law.
Indeed, blockade is an act of war; and its application to this or that
part or coast depends on the will and power of the belligerents.
Napoleon frankly recognized that fact; and, however much his preambles
appealed to law, his conduct was decided solely by expediency. When he
wanted peace (along with Sicily) he said nothing about our maritime
claims: when the war went on, he used them as a pretext for an action
that was ten times as stringent.

The gauntlet thrown down by him at Berlin was promptly taken up by
Great Britain. An Order in Council of January 7th, 1807, forbade
neutrals to trade between the ports of France and her allies, or
between ports that observed the Berlin Decree, under pain of seizure
and confiscation of the ship and cargo. In return Napoleon issued from
Warsaw (January 27th) a decree, ordering the seizure in the Hanse
Towns of all English goods and colonial produce. By way of reprisal
England reimposed a strict blockade on the North German coast (March
11th); and after the Peace of Tilsit laid the Continent at the feet of
Napoleon, he frankly told the diplomatic circle at Fontainebleau that
he would no longer allow any commercial or political relations between
the Continent and England. "The sea must be subdued by the land." In
these words Napoleon pithily summed up his enterprise; and whatever
may be thought of the means which he adopted, the design is not
without grandeur. Granted that Britannia ruled the waves, yet he ruled
the land; and the land, as the active fruitful element, must overpower
the barren sea. Such was the notion: it was fallacious, as will appear
later on; but it appealed strongly to the French imagination as
providing an infallible means of humbling the traditional foe.
Furthermore, it placed in Napoleon's hands a potent engine of
government, not only for assuring his position in France, but for
extending his sway over North Germany and all coasts that seemed
needful to the success of the experiment.

Indirectly also it seems to have fed, without satisfying, his
ever-growing love of power. Here we touch on the difficult question of
motive; and it is perhaps impossible, except for dogmatists, to
determine whether the enterprises that led to his ruin--the partition
of Portugal, which slid easily into the occupation of Spain, together
with his Moscow adventure--were prompted by ambition or by a
semi-fatalistic feeling that they were necessary to the complete
triumph of his Continental System. He himself, with a flash of almost
uncanny insight, once remarked to Roederer that his ambition was
different from that of other men: for they were slaves to it, whereas
it was so interwoven with the whole texture of his being as to
interfere with no single process of thought and will. Whether that is
possible is a question for psychologists and casuists; but every
open-minded student of Napoleon's career must at times pause in utter
doubt, whether this or that act was prompted by mad ambition, or
followed naturally, perhaps inevitably, from that world-embracing
postulate, the Continental System.

England also derived some secondary advantages from this war of the
elements. In order to stalemate her mighty foe, she pushed on her
colonial conquests so as to control the resources of the tropics, and
thus prevent that deadly tilting of the balance landwards which
Napoleon strove to effect. And fate decreed that the conquests of
English seamen and settlers were to be more enduring than those of
Napoleon's legions. While the French were gaining barren victories
beyond the Vistula and Ebro, our seamen seized French and Dutch
colonies and our pioneers opened up the interior of Australia and
South Africa.

We also used our maritime monopoly to depress neutral commerce. We
have not space to discuss the complex question of the rights of
neutrals in time of war, which would involve an examination of the
"rule of 1756" and the compromises arrived at after the two Armed
Neutrality Leagues. Suffice it to say that our merchants had recently
been indignant at the comparative immunity enjoyed by neutral ships,
and had pressed for more vigorous action against such as traded to
French ports.[117] Yet the statement that our Orders in Council were
determined by the clamour of the mercantile class is an exaggeration:
they were reprisals against Napoleon's acts, following them in almost
geometrical gradations. To his domination over the industrial
resources of the Continent we had nothing to oppose but our
manufacturing skill, our supremacy in the tropics, and our control of
the sea. The methods used on both sides were alike brutal, and, when
carried to their logical conclusion at the close of the year, crushed
the neutrals between the upper and the nether millstone. But it is
difficult to see what other alternative was open to an insular State
that was all-powerful at sea and weak on land. Our very existence was
bound up with maritime commerce; and an abandonment of the carrying
trade to neutrals would have been the tamest of surrenders, at a time
when surrender meant political extinction.

We turn now to follow the chief steps in Napoleon's onward march,
which enabled him to impose his system on nearly the whole of the
Continent. While encamped in the Prussian capital he decreed the
deposition of the Elector of Hesse-Cassel, and French and Dutch troops
forthwith occupied that Electorate. Towards Saxony he acted with
politic clemency; and on December 11th, 1806, the Elector accepted the
French alliance, entered the Confederation of the Rhine, and received
the title of King.[118]

Meanwhile Frederick William, accompanied by his grief-stricken
consort, was striving to draw together an army in his eastern
provinces. Some overtures with a view to peace had been made after
Jena; but Napoleon finally refused to relax his pursuit unless the
Prussians retired beyond the Vistula, and yielded up to him all the
western parts of the kingdom, with their fortresses. Besides, he let
it be known that Prussia must join him in a close alliance against
Russia, with a view to checking her ambitious projects against Turkey;
for the Czar, resenting the Sultan's deposition of the hospodars of
the Danubian Principalities, an act suggested by the French, had sent
an army across the River Pruth, even when the Porte timidly revoked
its objectionable firman.[119] The Eastern Question having been thus
reopened, Napoleon suggested a Franco-Prussian alliance so as to avert
a Russian conquest of the Balkan Peninsula. But now, as ever, his
terms to Prussia were too exacting. The King deigned not to stoop to
such humiliation, but resolved to stake his all on the courage of his
troops and the fidelity of the Czar.

The Russians, though delayed by their distrust of Haugwitz, and by
their insensate war with Turkey, were now marching, 73,000 strong,
into Prussian Poland, but were too late to save the Silesian
fortresses, most of which surrendered to the French. The fighting in
the open also went against the allies, though at Pultusk, a town north
of Warsaw, the Russians claimed that the contest had been drawn in
their favour.

At the close of the year the armies went into winter-quarters. It was
high time. The French were ill supplied for a winter campaign amid the
desolate wastes of Poland. Snow and rain, frosts and thaws had turned
the wretched tracks into muddy swamps, where men sank to their knees,
horses to their bellies, and carriages beyond their axles. The
carriage conveying Talleyrand was a whole night stuck fast, in spite
of the efforts of ten horses to drag it out. The opinion of the
soldiery on Poland and the Poles is well expressed by that prince of
_raconteurs_, Marbot: "Weather frightful, victuals very scarce, no
wine, beer detestable, water muddy, no bread, lodgings shared with
cows and pigs. 'And they call this their country,' said our soldiers."

Yet Polish patriotism had been a mighty power in the world; and
Napoleon, ever on the watch for the weak places of his foes, saw how
effective a lever it might be. This had been his constant practice: he
had pitted Italians against Austrians, Copts against Mamelukes, Druses
against Turks, Irish against English, South Germans against the
Hapsburgs and Hohenzollerns, and for the most part with success. But,
except in the case of the Italian people and the South German princes,
he rarely, if ever, bestowed boons proportionate to the services
rendered. It is very questionable whether he felt more warmly for
Irish nationalists than for Copts and Druses.[120] Except in regard to
his Italian kindred, none of the nationalist aspirations that were to
mould the history of the century touched a responsive chord in his
nature. In this, as in other affairs of state, he held "true policy"
to be "nothing else than the calculation of combinations and chances."

It was in this spirit that he surveyed the Polish Question. Arising
out of the partitions of that unhappy land by Russia, Austria, and
Prussia, it had distracted the repose of Europe scarcely less than the
French Revolution; and now the heir to the Revolution, after hewing
his way through the weak monarchies of Central Europe, was about to
probe this ulcer of Christendom. As usual, nothing had been done to
forestall him. Czartoryski had begged Alexander to declare Russian
Poland an autonomous kingdom united with Russia only by the golden
link of the crown, but this timely proposal was rejected;[121] and the
Czar displayed the weakness of his judgment and the strength of his
vanity by plunging into war with Turkey and Persia, at a time when
Poland was opening her arms to the victor of a hundred fights. It was,
therefore, easy for Napoleon to surround Russia with foes; and, as
will shortly appear, he took steps to invigorate even the remote
Persian Empire.

But, above all, he spurred on the Poles to take up arms. His
encouragements were discreetly vague. True, he countenanced Polish
proclamations, which spoke grandiloquently of national liberty; but
proclamations he ever viewed as the _ballons d'essai_ of politics. He
also warned Murat not to promise the Poles too much: "My greatness
does not depend on the aid of a few thousand Poles. Let them show a
firm resolve to be independent: let them pledge themselves to support
the King that will be given to them, and then I will see what is to be
done."

There were two reasons for this caution. His Marshals found no very
general disposition among the Poles to take up arms for France; and he
desired not to offend Austria by revolutionizing Galicia and her
districts south and east of Warsaw. Already the Hapsburgs were
nervously mustering their troops, and Napoleon had no wish to tempt
fortune by warring against three Powers a thousand miles away from his
own frontiers. He therefore calmed the Court of Vienna by promising
that he would discourage any rising in Austrian Poland, and he held
forth the prospect of regaining Silesia. This tempting offer was made
secretly and conditionally; and evoked no expression of thanks, but
rather a redoubling of precautions. Yet, despite the efforts of
England and Russia, the Hapsburg ruler refused to join the allies: he
preferred to play the waiting game which had ruined Prussia.[122]

The campaign was reopened amidst terrible weather by a daring move of
Bennigsen's Russians westwards, in the hope of saving Danzig and
Graudenz from the French. At first a screen of forests well concealed
his advance. But, falling in with Bernadotte near the River Passarge,
his progress was checked and his design revealed. At once Napoleon
prepared to march northwards and throw the Russians into the sea, a
plan which in its turn was foiled by the seizure of a French despatch
by Cossacks. Bennigsen, now aware of his danger, at once retreated
towards Königsberg, but at Eylau turned on his pursuers and fought the
bloodiest battle fought in Europe since Malplaquet. The numbers on
both sides were probably about equal, numbering some 75,000 men, the
Russians having a slight superiority in men and still more in
artillery. Driven from Eylau on the night of February 7th after
confused fighting, the Muscovite withdrew to a strong position formed
by an irregular line of hills, which he crowned with cannon.

As the dawn peered through the snow-laden clouds, guns began to deal
death amongst the hostile masses, and heavy columns moved forward.
Davoust, on the French right, began to push back the Russians on that
side, whereupon Napoleon ordered Augereau's corps to complete the
advantage by driving in the enemy's centre. Gallantly the French
advanced. Their leading regiment, the 14th, had seized a hillock which
commanded the enemy's lines,[123] when, amidst a whirlwind of snow
that beat in their faces, a deadly storm of grape and canister almost
annihilated the corps. Its shattered lines fell back, leaving the 14th
to its fate. But a cloud of Cossacks now swept on the retiring
companies, stabbing with their long spears; and it was a scanty band
that found safety in their former position. Russian cannon and cavalry
also stopped the advance of Davoust, and the fighting for a time
resolved itself into confused but murderous charges at close quarters.
As if to increase the horrors of the scene, snowstorms again swept
over the field, dazing the French and shrouding with friendly wings
the fierce charges of Cossacks. Yet the Grand Army fought on with
devoted heroism; and the chief, determined to snatch at victory,
launched eighty squadrons of horse against the Russian centre.
Sweeping aside the Cossacks, and defying the cannon that riddled their
files, they poured upon the first line of Russian infantry: for a time
they were stemmed, but, finding some weaker places, the cuirassiers
burst through, only to be thrown back by the second line; and, when
furiously charged by Cossacks, they fell back in disorder. "These
Russians fight like bulls," said the French. The simile was just. Even
while Murat was hacking at their centre a column of 4,000 Russian
grenadiers, detaching itself from their mangled line, marched straight
forward on the village of Eylau. With the same blind courage that
nerved Solmes' division at Steinkirk, they beat aside the French light
horse and foot, and were now threatening the cemetery where Napoleon
and his staff were standing.

    "I never was so much struck with anything in my life," said
    General Bertrand at St. Helena, "as by the Emperor at Eylau when
    he was almost trodden under foot by the Russian column. He kept
    his ground as the Russians advanced, saying frequently, 'What
    boldness.'"

But, when all around him trembled, and Berthier ordered up the horses
as if for retreat, he himself quietly signalled for his Guards. These
sturdy troops, long fuming at their inaction, marched forward with a
stern joy. As at Steinkirk the French Household Brigade disdained to
fire on the bull-dogs, so now the Guards rushed on the Muscovites with
the cold steel. The shock was terrible; but the pent-up fury of the
French carried all before it, and the grenadiers were wellnigh
destroyed. The battle might still have ended in a French victory; for
Davoust was obstinately holding the village which he had seized in the
morning, and even threatened the rear of Bennigsen's centre. But when
both sides were wellnigh exhausted, the Prussian General Lestocq with
8,000 men, urged on by the counsels of Scharnhorst, hurried up from
the side of Königsberg, marched straight on Davoust, and checked his
forward movements. Ney followed Lestocq, but at so great a distance
that his arrival at nightfall served only to secure the French left.

Thus darkness closed over some 100,000 men, who wearily clung to their
posts, and over snowy wastes where half that number lay dead, dying,
or disabled. Well might Ney exclaim: "What a massacre, and without any
issue!" Each side claimed the victory, and, as is usual in such cases,
began industriously to minimize its own and to magnify the enemy's
losses. The truth seems to be that both sides had about 25,000 men
_hors de combat_; but, as Bennigsen lacked tents, supplies, and above
all, the dauntless courage of Napoleon, he speedily fell back, and
this enabled the Emperor to claim a decisive victory.[124]

Exhausted by this terrific strife, the combatants now relaxed their
efforts for a brief space; but while Napoleon used the time of respite
in hurrying up troops from all parts of his vast dominions, the allies
did little to improve their advantage. This inertness is all the more
strange as Prussia and Russia came to closer accord in the Treaty of
Bartenstein (April 26th, 1807).[125]

The two monarchs now recur to the generous scheme of a European peace,
for which the Czar and William Pitt had vainly struggled two years
before. The present war is to be fought out to the end, not so as to
humble France and interfere in her internal concerns, but in order to
assure to Europe the blessings of a solid peace based on the claims of
justice and of national independence. France must be satisfied with
reasonable boundaries, and Prussia be restored to the limits of 1805
or their equivalent. Germany is to be freed from the dictation of the
French, and become a "constitutional federation," with a boundary
"parallel to the Rhine." Austria is to be asked to join the present
league, regaining Tyrol and the Mincio frontier. England and Sweden
must be rallied to the common cause. The allies will also take steps
to cause Denmark to join the league. For the rest, the integrity of
Turkey is to be maintained, and the future of Italy decided in concert
with Austria and England, the Kings of Sardinia and Naples being
restored. Even should Austria, England, and Sweden not join them, yet
Russia and Prussia will continue the struggle and not lay down their
arms save by mutual consent.

Had all the Powers threatened by Napoleon at once come forward and
acted with vigour, these ends might, even now, have been attained. But
Austria merely renewed her offers of mediation, a well-meaning but
hopeless proposal. England, a prey to official incapacity, joined the
league, promised help in men and money, and did little or nothing
except send fruitless expeditions to Alexandria and the Dardanelles
with the aim of forcing the Turks to a peace with Russia. In Sicily we
held our own against Joseph's generals, but had no men to spare for a
diversion against Marmont's forces in Dalmatia, which Alexander urged.
Still less could we send from our own shores any force for the
effective aid of Prussia. Though we had made peace with that Power,
and ordinary prudence might have dictated the taking of steps to save
the coast fortresses, Danzig and Colberg, from the French besiegers,
yet our efforts were limited to the despatch of a few cruisers to the
former stronghold. Even more urgent was the need of rescuing
Stralsund, the chief fortress of Swedish Pomerania. Such an expedition
clearly offered great possibilities with the minimum of risk. From the
Isle of Rügen Mortier's corps could be attacked; and when Stralsund
was freed, a dash on Stettin, then weakly held by the French, promised
an easy success that would raise the whole of North Germany in
Napoleon's rear.[126]

But arguments were thrown away upon the Grenville Ministry, which
clung to its old plan of doing nothing and of doing it expensively.
The Foreign Secretary, Lord Howick, replied that the allies must not
expect any considerable aid from our land forces. Considering that the
Income or War Tax of 2s. in the £ had yielded close on £20,000,000,
and that the army numbered 192,000 men (exclusive of those in India),
this declaration did not shed lustre on the Ministry of all the
Talents. That bankrupt Cabinet, however, was dismissed by George III.
in March, 1807, because it declined to waive the question of Catholic
Emancipation, and its place was filled by the Duke of Portland, with
Canning as Foreign Minister. Soon it was seen that Pitt's cloak had
fallen on worthy shoulders, and a new vigour began to inspirit our
foreign policy. Yet the bad results of frittering away our forces on
distant expeditions could not be wiped out at once. In fact, our
military expert, Lord Cathcart, reported that only some 12,000 men
could at present be spared for service in the Baltic; and, as it would
be beneath our dignity to send so small a force, it would be better to
keep it at home ready to menace any part of the French coast. As to
Stralsund, he thought that plan was more feasible, but that, even
there, the allies would not make head against Mortier's corps.[127]

This is a specimen of the reasoning that was fast rendering Britain
contemptible alike to friends and foes. It is not surprising that such
timorous selfishness should have at last moved the Czar to say to our
envoy: "Act where you please, provided that you act at all."[128] In
the end the new Ministry did venture to act: it engaged to send 20,000
men to the succour of Stralsund; but, with the fatality that then
dogged our steps, that decision was formed on June the 17th, three
days after the Coalition was shattered by the mighty blow of
Friedland.

In striking contrast to the faint-hearted measures of the allies was
the timely energy of Napoleon in bringing up reinforcements. These
were drawn partly from Mortier's corps in Pomerania, now engaged in
watching the Swedes, who made a truce; partly from the Bavarians and
Saxons; but mostly from French troops already in Central Germany,
their places being taken by Italians, Spaniards, Swiss, and Dutch. In
France a new levy of conscripts was ordered--the third since the
outbreak of war with Prussia. The Turks were encouraged to press on
the war against Russia and England; and a mission was sent to the Shah
of Persia to strengthen his arms against the Czar. To this last we
will now advert.

For some time past Napoleon had been coquetting with Persia, and an
embassy from the Shah now came to the castle of Finkenstein, a
beautiful seat not far from the Vistula, where the Emperor spent the
months of spring. A treaty was drawn up, and General Gardane was
deputed to draw closer the bonds of friendship with the Court of
Teheran. The instructions secretly issued to this officer are of great
interest. He is ordered to proceed to Persia by way of Constantinople,
to concert an alliance between Sultan and Shah, to redouble Persia's
efforts against her "natural enemy," Russia, and to examine the means
of invading India. For this purpose a number of officers are sent with
him to examine the routes from Egypt or Syria to Delhi, as also to
report on the harbours in Persia with a view to a maritime expedition,
either by way of Suez or the Cape of Good Hope. The Shah is to be
induced to form a corps of 12,000 men, drilled on the European model
and armed with weapons sold by France. This force will attack the
Russians in Georgia and serve later in an expedition to India. With a
view to the sending of 20,000 French troops to India, Gardane is to
communicate with the Mahratta princes and prepare for this enterprise
by every possible means.

We may note here that Gardane proceeded to Persia and was urging on
the Shah to more active measures against Russia when the news of the
Treaty of Tilsit diverted his efforts towards the east. At the close
of the year, he reported to Napoleon that, for the march overland from
Syria to the Ganges, Cyprus was an indispensable base of supplies: he
recommended the route Bir, Mardin, Teheran, Herat, Cabul, and
Peshawur: forty to fifty thousand French troops would be needed, and
thirty or forty thousand Persians should also be taken up. Nothing
came of these plans; but it is clear that, even when Napoleon was face
to face with formidable foes on the Vistula, his thoughts still turned
longingly to the banks of the Ganges.[129]

The result of Napoleon's activity and the supineness of his foes were
soon apparent. Danzig surrendered to the French on May the 24th, and
Neisse in Silesia a little later; and it was not till the besiegers of
these fortresses came up to swell the French host that Bennigsen
opened the campaign. He was soon to rue the delay. His efforts to
drive the foe from the River Passarge were promptly foiled, and he
retired in haste to his intrenched camp at Heilsberg. There, on June
the 10th, he turned fiercely at bay and dealt heavy losses to the
French vanguard. In vain did Soult's corps struggle up towards the
intrenchments; his men were mown down by grapeshot and musketry: in
vain did Napoleon, who hurried up in the afternoon, launch the
fusiliers of the Guard and a division of Lannes' corps. The Muscovites
held firm, and the day closed ominously for the French. It was Eylau
over again on a small scale.

But Bennigsen was one of those commanders who, after fighting with
great spirit, suffer a relapse. Despite the entreaties of his
generals, he had retreated after Eylau; and now, after a day of
inaction, his columns filed off towards Königsberg under cover of the
darkness. In excuse for this action it has been urged that he had but
two days' supply of bread in the camp, and that a forward move of
Davoust's corps round his right flank threatened to cut him off from
his base of supplies, Königsberg.[130]

The first excuse only exposes him to greater censure. The Russian
habit at that time usually was to live almost from hand to mouth; but
that a carefully-prepared position like that of Heilsberg should be
left without adequate supplies is unpardonable. On the two next days
the rival hosts marched northward, the one to seize, the other to
save, Königsberg. They were separated by the winding vale of the Alle.
But the course of this river favoured Napoleon as much as it hindered
Bennigsen. The Alle below Heilsberg makes a deep bend towards the
north-east, then northwards again towards Friedland, where it comes
within forty miles of Königsberg, but in its lower course flows
north-east until it joins the Pregel.

An army marching from Heilsberg to the old Prussian capital by the
right bank would therefore easily be outstripped by one that could
follow the chord of the arc instead of the irregular arc itself.
Napoleon was in this fortunate position, while the Russians plodded
amid heavy rains over the semicircular route further to the east.
Their mistake in abandoning Heilsberg was now obvious. The Emperor
halted at Eylau on the 13th for news of the Prussians in front and of
Bennigsen on his right flank. Against the former he hurled his chief
masses under the lead of Murat in the hope of seizing Königsberg at
one blow.[131] But, foreseeing that the Russians would probably pass
over the Alle at Friedland he despatched Lannes to Domnau to see
whether they had already crossed in force. Clearly, then, Napoleon did
not foresee what the morrow had in store for him: his aim was to drive
a solid wedge between Bennigsen and the defenders of Königsberg, to
storm that city first, and then to turn on Bennigsen. The claim of
some of Napoleon's admirers that he laid a trap for the Russians at
Friedland, as he had done at Austerlitz, is therefore refuted by the
Emperor's own orders.

None the less did Bennigsen walk into a trap, and one of his own
choosing. Anxious to thrust himself between Napoleon and the old
Prussian capital, he crossed the river at Friedland and sought to
strengthen his position on the left bank by driving Lannes' vanguard
back on Domnau, by throwing three bridges over the stream, and by
crowning the hills on the right bank with a formidable artillery. But
he had to deal with a tough and daring opponent. Throughout the winter
Lannes had been a prey to ill-health and resentment at his chief's
real or fancied injustice: but the heats of summer re-awakened his
thirst for glory and restored him to his wonted vigour. Calling up the
Saxon horse, Grouchy's dragoons, and Oudinot's grenadiers, he held his
ground through the brief hours of darkness. Before dawn he posted his
10,000 troops among the woods and on the plateau of Posthenen that
lies to the west of Friedland and strove to stop the march of 40,000
Russians. After four hours of fighting, his men were about to be
thrust back, when the divisions of Verdier and Dupas--the latter from
Mortier's corps--shared the burden of the fight until the sun was at
its zenith. When once more the fight was doubtful, the dense columns
of Ney and Victor were to be seen, and by desperate efforts the French
vanguard held its ground until this welcome aid arrived.

Napoleon, having received Lannes' urgent appeals for help, now rode up
in hot haste, and in response to the cheers of his weary troops
repeatedly exclaimed: "Today is a lucky day, the anniversary of
Marengo." Their ardour was excited to the highest pitch, Oudinot
saluting his chief with the words: "Quick, sire! my grenadiers can
hold no longer: but give me reinforcements and I'll pitch the Russians
into the river."[132] The Emperor cautiously gave them pause: the
fresh troops marched to the front and formed the first line, those who
had fought for nine hours now forming the supports. Ney held the post
of honour in the woods on the right flank, nearly above Friedland;
behind him was the corps of Bernadotte, which, since the disabling of
that Marshal by a wound had been led by General Victor: there too were
the dragoons of Latour-Maubourg, and the imposing masses of the Guard.
In the centre, but bending in towards the rear, stood the remnant of
Lannes' indomitable corps, now condemned for a time to comparative
inactivity; and defensive tactics were also enjoined on
Mortier and Grouchy on the left wing, until Ney and Victor should
decide the fortunes of the second fight. The Russians, as if bent on
favouring Napoleon's design, continued to deploy in front of
Friedland, keeping up the while a desultory fight; and Bennigsen,
anxious now about his communications with Königsberg, detached 6,000
men down the right bank of the river towards Wehlau. Only 46,000 men
were thus left to defend Friedland against a force that now numbered
80,000: yet no works were thrown up to guard the bridges--and this
after the arrival of Napoleon with strong reinforcements was known by
the excitement along the enemy's front.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND]

Nevertheless, as late as 3 p.m., Napoleon was in doubt whether he
should not await the arrival of Murat. At his instructions, Berthier
ordered that Marshal to leave Soult at Königsberg and hurry back with
Davoust and the cavalry towards Friedland: "If I perceive at the
beginning of this fight that the enemy is in too great force, I might
be content with cannonading to-day and awaiting your arrival." But a
little later the Emperor decides for instant attack. The omens are all
favourable. If driven back the Russians will fight with their backs to
a deep river. Besides, their position is cut in twain by a mill-stream
which flows in a gulley, and near the town is dammed up so as to form
a small lake. Below this lies Friedland in a deep bend of the river
itself. Into this _cul-de-sac_ he will drive the Russian left, and
fling their broken lines into the lake and river.

At five o'clock a salvo of twenty guns opened the second and greater
battle of Friedland. To rush on the Muscovite van and clear it from
the wood of Sortlack was for Ney's leading division the work of a
moment; but on reaching the open ground their ranks were ploughed by
the shot of the Russian guns ranged on the hills beyond the river.
Staggered by this fire, the division was wavering, when the Russian
Guards and their choicest squadrons of horse charged home with deadly
effect. But Ney's second division, led by the gallant Dupont, hurried
up to restore the balance, while Latour-Maubourg's dragoons fell on
the enemy's horsemen and drove them pell-mell towards Friedland.

The Russian artillery fared little better: Napoleon directed Sénarmont
with thirty-six guns to take it in flank and it was soon overpowered.
Freed now from the Russian grapeshot and sabres, Ney held on his
course like a torrent that masters a dam, reached the upper part of
the lake, and threw the bewildered foe into its waters or into the
town. Friedland was now a death-trap: huddled together, plied by
shell, shot and bayonet, the Russians fought from street to street
with the energy of despair, but little by little were driven back on
the bridges. No help was to be found there; for Sénarmont, bringing up
his guns, swept the bridges with a terrific fire: when part of the
Russian left and centre had fled across, they burst into flames, a
signal that warned their comrades further north of their coming doom.
On that side, too, a general advance of the French drove the enemy
back towards the steep banks of the river. But on those open plains
the devotion and prowess of the Muscovite cavalry bore ampler fruit:
charging the foe while in the full swing of victory, these gallant
riders gave time for the infantry to attempt the dangers of a deep
ford: hundreds were drowned, but others, along with most of the guns,
stole away in the darkness down the left bank of the river.

On the morrow Bennigsen's army was a mass of fugitives straggling
towards the Pregel and fighting with one another for a chance to cross
its long narrow bridge. Even on the other side they halted not, but
wandered on towards the Niemen, no longer an army but an armed mob. On
its banks they were joined by the defenders of Königsberg, who after a
stout stand cut their way through Soult's lines and made for Tilsit.
There, behind the broad stream of the Niemen, the fugitives found
rest.

It will always be a mystery why Bennigsen held on to Friedland after
French reinforcements arrived; and the feeling of wonder and
exasperation finds expression in the report of our envoy, Lord
Hutchinson, founded on the information of two British officers who
were at the Russian headquarters:

    "Many of the circumstances attending the Battle of Friedland are
    unexampled in the annals of war. We crossed the River Alle, not
    knowing whether we had to contend with a corps or the whole French
    army. From the commencement of the battle it was manifest that we
    had a great deal to lose and probably little to gain: ... General
    Bennigsen would, I believe, have retired early in the day from
    ground which he ought never to have occupied; but the corps in our
    front made so vigorous a resistance that, though occasionally we
    gained a little ground, yet we were never able to drive them from
    the woods or the village of Heinrichsdorf."[133]

This evidence shows the transcendent services of Lannes, Oudinot, and
Grouchy in the early part of the day; and it is clear that, as at
Jena, no great battle would have been fought at all but for the valour
and tenacity with which Lannes clung to the foe until Napoleon came
up.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVII

TILSIT


Even now matters were not hopeless for the allies. Crowds of
stragglers rejoined the colours at Tilsit, and Tartar reinforcements
were near at hand. The gallant Gneisenau was still holding out bravely
at Kolberg against Brune's divisions; and two of the Silesian
fortresses had not yet surrendered. Moreover, Austria seemed about to
declare against Napoleon, and there were hopes that before long
England would do something. But, above all, since the war was for
Prussia solely an affair of honour,[134] it deeply concerned
Alexander's good name not to desert an ally to whom he was now pledged
by all the claims of chivalry until satisfactory terms could be
gained.

But Alexander's nature had not as yet been strengthened by misfortune
and religious convictions: it was a sunny background of flickering
enthusiasms, flecked now and again by shadows of eastern cunning or
darkened by warlike ambitions--a nature in which the sentimentalism of
Rousseau and the passions of a Boyar alternately gained the mastery.
No realism is more crude than that of the disillusionized idealist;
and for months the young Czar had seen his dream of a free and happy
Europe fade away amidst the smoke of Napoleon's guns and the mists of
English muddling. At first he blenched not even at the news of
Friedland. In an interview with our ambassador, Lord Gower, on June
the 17th, he bitterly upbraided him with our inactivity in the Baltic
and the Mediterranean, and the non-fulfilment of our promise of a
loan; as for himself, "he would never stoop to Bonaparte: he would
rather retire to Kazan or even to Tobolsk." But five days later,
acting under pressure from his despairing generals, some of whom
reminded him of his father's fate, he arranged an armistice with the
conqueror.[135] Five days only were allowed in which Prussia might
decide to follow his example or proceed with the war alone. She
accepted the inevitable on the following day.

The international situation was now strangely like that which followed
immediately upon the battle of Austerlitz. Then it was Prussia, now it
was Austria, that played the part of the cautious friend at the very
time when the beaten allies were meditating surrender. For some time
past the Court of Vienna had been offering its services for mediation:
they were well received at London, with open disappointment by
Prussia, and with ill-concealed annoyance by Napoleon. As at the time
when Haugwitz came to him to dictate Prussia's terms, so now the
Emperor kept the Austrian envoy waiting without an answer, until the
blow of Friedland was dealt.[136] Even then Austria seemed about to
enter the lists, when news arrived of the conclusion of the armistice
at Tilsit. This enabled her to sheathe her sword with no loss of
honour; but, as was the case with Prussia at the close of 1805, her
conduct was seen to be timid and time-serving; and it merited the
secret rebuke of Canning that she "was (as usual) just ten days too
late in her determination, or the world might have been saved."[137]

Whether Austria had been beguiled by the recent diplomatic caresses of
Napoleon may well be doubted; for they were obviously aimed at keeping
her quiet until he had settled scores with Prussia and Russia. His
advances only began on the eve of the last war, and the sharpness of
the transition from threats to endearments could not be smoothed over
even by Talleyrand's finesse.[138] When the slaughter at Eylau placed
him in peril, he again bade Talleyrand soothe the Austrian envoy with
assurances that, if his master was anxious to maintain the integrity
of Turkey, France would maintain it; or if he desired to share in an
eventual partition, France would also arrange that to his liking.[139]
But as the prospects for the campaign improved, Napoleon's tone
hardened. On March the 14th he states that he has enough men to keep
Austria quiet and to "get rid of the Russians in a month." And now he
looks on an alliance with the Hapsburgs merely as giving a short time
of quiet, whereas an alliance with Russia would be "very
advantageous."[140] He had also felt the value of alliance with
Prussia, as his repeated overtures during the campaign testify; but
when Frederick William persistently rejected all accommodation with
the man who had so deeply outraged his kingly honour, he turned
finally to Alexander.

The Czar was made of more pliable stuff. Moreover, he now cherished
one sentiment that brought him into sympathy with Napoleon, namely,
hatred of England. He certainly had grave cause for complaint. We had
done nothing to help the allies in the Polish campaign except to send
a few cruisers and 60,000 muskets, which last did not reach the
Swedish and Russian ports until the war was over. True, we had gone
out of our way to attack Constantinople at his request; but that
attack had failed; and our attitude towards his Turkish policy was one
of veiled suspicion, varied with moral lectures.[141] As for the loan
of five millions sterling which the Czar had asked us to guarantee, we
had put him off, our envoy finally reminding him that it had been of
the first importance to help Austria to move. Worst of all, our
cruisers had seized some Russian merchantmen coming out of French
ports, and despite protests from St. Petersburg the legality of that
seizure was maintained. Thus, in a war which concerned our very
existence we had not rendered him a single practical service, and yet
strained the principles of maritime law at the expense of Russian
commerce.[142]

Over against our policy of blundering delay there was that of
Napoleon, prompt, keen, and ever victorious. The whole war had arisen
out of the conflict of these two Powers; and Napoleon had never ceased
to declare that it was essentially a struggle between England and the
Continent. After Eylau Alexander was proof against these arguments;
but now the triumphant energy of Napoleon and the stolid apathy of
England brought about a quite bewildering change in Russian policy.
Delicate advances having been made by the two Emperors, an interview
was arranged to take place on a raft moored in the middle of the River
Niemen (June 25th).

"I hate the English as much as you do, and I will second you in all
your actions against them." Such are said to have been the words with
which Alexander greeted Napoleon as they stepped on to the raft.
Whereupon the conqueror replied: "In that case all can be arranged and
peace is made."[143] As the two Emperors were unaccompanied at that
first interview, it is difficult to see on what evidence this story
rests. It is most unlikely that either Emperor would divulge the
remarks of the other on that occasion; and the words attributed to
Alexander seem highly impolitic. For what was his position at this
time? He was striving to make the best of a bad case against an
opponent whose genius he secretly feared. Besides, we know for certain
that he was most anxious to postpone his rupture with England for some
months.[144] All desire for an immediate break was on Napoleon's side.

We can therefore only guess at what transpired, from the vague
descriptions of the two men themselves. They are characteristic
enough: "I never had more prejudices against anyone than against
_him_," said Alexander afterwards; "but, after three-quarters of an
hour of conversation, they all disappeared like a dream"; and later he
exclaimed: "Would that I had seen him sooner: the veil is torn aside
and the time of error is past." As for Napoleon, he wrote to
Josephine: "I have just seen the Emperor Alexander: I have been very
pleased with him: he is a very handsome, good, and young Emperor: he
has an intellect above what is commonly attributed to him."[145] The
tone of these remarks strikes the keynote of all the conversations
that followed. At the next day's conference, also held in the
sumptuous pavilion erected on the raft, the King of Prussia was
present; but towards him Napoleon's demeanour was cold and
threatening. He upbraided him with the war, lectured him on the duty
of a king to his people, and bade him dismiss Hardenberg. Frederick
William listened for the most part in silence; his nature was too
stiff and straightforward to practise any Byzantine arts; but when his
trusty Minister was attacked, he protested that he should not know how
to replace him. Napoleon had foreseen the plea and at once named three
men who would give better advice. Among them was the staunch patriot
Stein!

From the ensuing conferences the King was almost wholly excluded. They
were held in a part of the town of Tilsit which was neutralized for
that purpose, as also for the guards and diplomatists of the three
sovereigns. There, too, lived the two Emperors in closest intercourse,
while on most days the Prussian King rode over from a neighbouring
village to figure as a sad, reproachful guest at the rides, parades,
and dinners that cemented the new Franco-Russian alliance. Yet, amid
all the melodious raptures of Alexander over Napoleon's newly
discovered virtues, it is easy to detect the clinging ground-tone of
Muscovite ambition. An event had occurred which excited the hopes of
both Emperors. At the close of May, the Sultan Selim was violently
deposed by the Janissaries who clamoured for more vigorous measures
against the Russians. Never did news come more opportunely for
Napoleon than this, which reached him at Tilsit on, or before, June
the 24th. He is said to have exclaimed to the Czar with a flash of
dramatic fatalism: "It is a decree of Providence which tells me that
the Turkish Empire can no longer exist."[146]

Certain it is that the most potent spell exerted by the great
conqueror over his rival was a guarded invitation to share in some
future partition of the Turkish Empire. That scheme had fascinated
Napoleon ever since the year 1797, when he gazed on the Adriatic.
Though laid aside for a time in 1806, when he roused the Turks against
Russia, it was never lost sight of; and now, on the basis of a common
hatred of England and a common desire to secure the spoils of the
Ottoman Power, the stately fabric of the Franco-Russian alliance was
reared.

On his side, Alexander required some assurance that Poland should not
be reconstituted in its integrity--a change that would tear from
Russia the huge districts stretching almost up to Riga, Smolensk, and
Kiev, which were still Polish in sympathy. Here Napoleon reassured
him, at least in part. He would not re-create the great kingdom of
Poland: he would merely carve out from Prussia the greater part of her
Polish possessions.

These two important questions being settled, it only remained for the
Czar to plead for the King of Prussia, to acknowledge Napoleon's
domination as Emperor of the West, while he himself, as autocrat of
the East, secured a better western boundary for Russia. At first he
strove to gain for Frederick William the restoration of several of his
lands west of the Elbe. This championship was not wholly
disinterested; for it is now known that the Czar had set his heart on
a great part of Prussian Poland.

In truth, he was a sufficiently good disciple of the French
revolutionists to plead very cogently his claims to a "natural
frontier." He disliked a "dry frontier": he must have a riverine
boundary: in fact, he claimed the banks of the Lower Niemen, and,
further south, the course of the rivers Wavre, Narew and Bug. To this
claim he had perhaps been encouraged by some alluring words of
Napoleon that thenceforth the Vistula must be the boundary of their
empires. But his ally was now determined to keep Russia away from the
old Polish capital; and in strangely prophetic words he pointed out
that the Czar's claims would bring the Russian eagles within sight of
Warsaw, which would be too clear a sign that that city was destined to
pass under the Russian rule.[147] Divining also that Alexander's plea
for the restoration by France of some of Prussia's western lands was
linked with a plan which would give Russia some of her eastern
districts,[148] Napoleon resolved to press hard on Prussia from the
west. While handing over to the Czar only the small district around
Bialystock, he remorselessly thrust Prussia to the east of the Elbe.

From this neither the arguments of the Czar nor the entreaties of
Queen Louisa availed to move him. And yet, in the fond hope that her
tears might win back Magdeburg, that noble bulwark of North German
independence, the forlorn Queen came to Tilsit to crave this boon
(July 6th). It was a terrible ordeal to do this from the man who had
repeatedly insulted her in his official journals, figuring her, first
as a mailed Amazon galloping at the head of her regiment, and finally
breathing forth scandals on her spotless reputation.

Yet, for the sake of her husband and her people, she braced herself up
to the effort of treating him as a gentleman and appealing to his
generosity. If she was able to conceal her loathing, this was scarcely
so with her devoted lady in waiting, the Countess von Voss, who has
left us an acrid account of Napoleon's visit to the Queen at the
miller's house at Tilsit.[149]

    "He is excessively ugly, with a fat swollen sallow face, very
    corpulent, besides short and entirely without figure. His great
    eyes roll gloomily around; the expression of his features is
    severe; he looks like the incarnation of fate: only his mouth is
    well shaped, and his teeth are good. He was extremely polite,
    talked to the Queen a long time alone.... Again, after dinner, he
    had a long conversation with the Queen, who also seemed pretty
    well satisfied with the result."[150]


Queen Louisa's verdict about his appearance was more favourable; she
admired his head "as that of a Cæsar." With winsome boldness inspired
by patriotism, she begged for Magdeburg. Taken aback by her beauty and
frankness, Napoleon had recourse to compliments about her dress. "Are
we to talk about fashion, at such a time?" was her reply. Again she
pleaded, and again he fell back on vapidities. Nevertheless, her
appeals to his generosity seemed to be thawing his statecraft, when
the entrance of that unlucky man, her husband, gave the conversation a
colder tone. The dinner, however, passed cheerfully enough; and,
according to French accounts, Napoleon graced the conclusion of
dessert by offering her a rose. Her woman's wit flew to the utterance:
"May I consider it a token of friendship, and that you grant my
request for Magdeburg?" But he was on his guard, parried her onset
with a general remark as to the way in which such civilities should be
taken, and turned the conversation. Then, as if he feared the result
of a second interview, he hastened to end matters with the Prussian
negotiators.[151]

He thus described the interview in a letter to Josephine:

    "I have had to be on my guard against her efforts to oblige me to
    some concessions for her husband; but I have been gallant, and
    have held to my policy."

This was only too clear on the following day, when the Queen again
dined with the sovereigns.

    "Napoleon," says the Countess von Voss, "seemed malicious and
    spiteful, and the conversation was brief and constrained. After
    dinner the Queen again conversed apart with him. On taking leave
    she said to him that she went away feeling it deeply that he
    should have deceived her. My poor Queen: she is quite in despair."


When conducted to her carriage by Talleyrand and Duroc, she sank down
overcome by emotion. Yet, amid her tears and humiliation, the old
Prussian pride had flashed forth in one of her replies as the rainbow
amidst the rain-storm. When Napoleon expressed his surprise that she
should have dared to make war on him with means so utterly inadequate,
she at once retorted: "Sire, I must confess to Your Majesty, the glory
of Frederick the Great had misled us as to our real strength"--a
retort which justly won the praise of that fastidious connoisseur,
Talleyrand, for its reminder of Prussia's former greatness and the
transitoriness of all human grandeur.[152]

On that same day (July 7th) the Treaty of Tilsit was signed. Its terms
may be thus summarized. Out of regard for the Emperor of Russia,
Napoleon consented to restore to the King of Prussia the province of
Silesia, and the old Prussian lands between the Elbe and Niemen. But
the Polish lands seized by Prussia in the second and third partitions
were (with the exception of the Bialystock district, now gained by
Russia) to form a new State called the Duchy of Warsaw. Of this duchy
the King of Saxony was constituted ruler. Danzig, once a Polish city,
was now declared a free city under the protection of the Kings of
Prussia and Saxony, but the retention there of a French garrison until
the peace made it practically a French fortress. Saxe-Coburg,
Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg-Schwerin were restored to their dukes, but
the two last were to be held by French troops until England made peace
with France. With this aim in view, Napoleon accepted Alexander's
mediation for the conclusion of a treaty of peace with England,
provided that she accepted that mediation within one month of the
ratification of the present treaty.

On his side, the Czar now recognized the recent changes in Naples,
Holland, and Germany; among the last of these was the creation of the
Kingdom of Westphalia for Jerome Bonaparte out of the Prussian lands
west of the Elbe, the Duchy of Brunswick, and the Electorate of
Hesse-Cassel. Holland gained East Frisia at the expense of Prussia. As
regards Turkey, the Czar pledged himself to cease hostilities at once,
to accept the mediation of Napoleon in the present dispute, and to
withdraw Russian troops from the Danubian Provinces as soon as peace
was concluded with the Sublime Porte. Finally, the two Emperors
mutually guaranteed the integrity of their possessions and placed
their ceremonial and diplomatic relations on a footing of complete
equality.

Such were the published articles of the Treaty of Tilsit. Even if this
had been all, the European system would have sustained the severest
blow since the Thirty Years' War. The Prussian monarchy was suddenly
bereft of half its population, and now figured on the map as a
disjointed land, scarcely larger than the possessions of the King of
Saxony, and less defensible than Jerome Bonaparte's Kingdom of
Westphalia; while the Confederation of the Rhine, soon to be
aggrandized by the accession of Mecklenburg and Oldenburg, seemed to
doom the House of Hohenzollern to lasting insignificance.[153]

But the published treaty was by no means all. There were also secret
articles, the chief of which were that the Cattaro district--to the
west of Montenegro--and the Ionian Islands should go to France, and
that the Czar would recognize Joseph Bonaparte as King of Sicily when
Ferdinand of Naples should have received "an indemnity such as the
Balearic Isles, or Crete, or their equivalent." Also, if Hanover
should eventually be annexed to the Kingdom of Westphalia, a
Westphalian district with a population of from three to four hundred
thousand souls would be retroceded to Prussia. Finally, the chiefs of
the Houses of Orange-Nassau, Hesse-Cassel, and Brunswick were to
receive pensions from Murat and Jerome Bonaparte, who dispossessed
them.

Most important of all was the secret treaty of alliance with Russia,
also signed on July 7th, whereby the two Emperors bound themselves to
make common cause in any war that either of them might undertake
against any European Power, employing, if need be, the whole of their
respective forces. Again, if England did not accept the Czar's
mediation, or if she did not, by the 1st of December, 1807, recognize
the perfect equality of all flags at sea, and restore her conquests
made from France and her allies since 1805, then Russia would make war
on her. In that case, the present allies will "summon the three Courts
of Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Lisbon to close their ports against the
English and declare war against England. If any one of the three
Courts refuse, it shall be treated as an enemy by the high contracting
parties, and if Sweden refuse, _Denmark shall be compelled to declare
war on her_." Pressure would also be put on Austria to follow the same
course. But if England made peace betimes, she might recover Hanover,
on restoring her conquests in the French, Spanish, and Dutch colonies.
Similarly, if Turkey refused the mediation of Napoleon, he would in
that case help Russia to drive the Turks from Europe--"the city of
Constantinople and the province of Roumelia alone excepted."[154]

The naming of the city of Constantinople, which is in Roumelia,
betokens a superfluity of prudence. But it helps to confirm the
statement of Napoleon's secretary, M. Méneval, that the future of that
city led to a decided difference of opinion between the Emperors.
After one of their discussions, Napoleon stayed poring over a map, and
finally exclaimed, "Constantinople! Never! It is the empire of the
world." Doubtless it was on this subject that Alexander cherished some
secret annoyance. Certain it is that, despite all his professions of
devotion to Napoleon, he went back to St. Petersburg ill at ease and
possessed with a certain awe of the conqueror. For what had he gained?
He received a small slice of Prussian Poland, and the prospect of
aggrandizement on the side of Turkey and Sweden, Finland being pointed
out as an easy prey. For these future gains he was to close his ports
to England and see his commerce, his navy, and his seaboard suffer. It
is not surprising that before leaving Tilsit he remarked to Frederick
William that "the most onerous condition imposed by Napoleon was
common to Russia and Prussia."[155]

This refers to the compulsion put upon them to join Napoleon's
Continental System. In the treaty signed with Prussia on July 9th,
Napoleon not only wrested away half her lands, but required the
immediate closing of all her ports to British vessels. We may also
note here that, by the extraordinary negligence of the Prussian
negotiator, Marshal Kalckreuth, the subsequent convention as to the
evacuation of Prussia by the French troops left open a loophole for
its indefinite occupation. Each province or district was to be
evacuated when the French requisitions had been satisfied.[156] The
exaction of impossible sums would therefore enable the conquerors,
quite legally, to keep their locust swarms in that miserable land. And
that was the policy pursued for sixteen months.

Why this refinement of cruelty to his former ally? Why not have
annexed Prussia outright? Probably there were two reasons against
annexation: first, that his army could live on her in a way that would
not be possible with his own subjects or allies; second, that the army
of occupation would serve as a guarantee both for Russia's good faith
and for the absolute exclusion of British goods from Prussia.[157]
This had long been his aim. He now attained it, but only by war that
bequeathed a legacy of war, and a peace that was no peace.

Napoleon's behaviour at Tilsit has generally been regarded, at least
in England, as prompted by an insane lust of power; and the treaty has
been judged as if its aim was the domination of the Continent. But
another explanation, though less sweeping and attractive, seems more
consonant with the facts of the case.

He hoped that, before so mighty a confederacy as was framed at Tilsit,
England would bend the knee, give up not only her maritime claims but
her colonial conquests, and humbly take rank with Powers that had
lived their day. The conqueror who had thrice crumpled up the Hapsburg
States, and shattered Prussia in a day, might well believe that the
men of Downing Street, expert only in missing opportunities and
exasperating their friends, would not dare to defy the forces of
united Europe, but would bow before his prowess and grant peace to a
weary world. In his letter of July 6th, 1807, to the Czar, he advised
the postponement of the final summons to the British Government,
because it would "give five months in which the first exasperation
will die down in England, and she will have time to understand the
immense consequences that would result from so imprudent a struggle."
Neither Napoleon nor Alexander was deaf to generous aspirations. They
both desired peace, so that their empires might expand and
consolidate. Above all, France was weary of war; and by peace the
average Frenchman meant, not respite from Continental strifes that
yielded a surfeit of barren glories, but peace with England. The words
of Lucchesini, the former Prussian ambassador in Paris, on this
subject are worth quoting:

    "The war with England was at bottom the only one in which the
    French public took much interest, since the evils it inflicted on
    France were felt every moment: nothing was spoken of so decidedly
    among all classes of the people as the wish to have done with that
    war; and when one spoke of peace at Paris, one always meant peace
    with England: peace with the others was as indifferent to the
    public as the victories or the conquests of Bonaparte."[158]

If the French middle classes longed for a maritime peace so that
coffee and sugar might become reasonably cheap, how much more would
their ruler, whose heart was set on colonies and a realm in the
Orient? In Poland he had cheered his troops with the thought that they
were winning back the French colonial empire; and, as we have seen, he
was even then preparing the ground in Persia for a future invasion of
India. These plans could only be carried out after a time of peace
that should rehabilitate the French navy. Humanitarian sentiment,
patriotism, and even the promptings of a wider ambition, therefore
bade him strive for a general pacification, such as he seemed to have
assured at Tilsit.

But the means which he adopted were just those that were destined to
defeat this aim. Where he sought to intimidate, he only aroused a more
stubborn resistance: where he should have allayed national fears, he
redoubled them. He did not understand our people: he saw not that,
behind our official sluggishness and muddling, there was a quenchless
national vitality, which, if directed by a genius, could defy a
world-wide combination. If, instead of making secret compacts with the
Czar and trampling on Prussia; if, instead of intriguing with the
Sultan and the Shah, and thus reawakening our fears respecting Egypt
and India, he had called a Congress and submitted all the present
disputes to general discussion, there is reason to think that Great
Britain would have received his overtures. George III.'s Ministers had
favoured the proposal of a Congress when put forward by Austria in the
spring;[159] and they would doubtless have welcomed it from Napoleon
after Friedland, had they not known of far-reaching plans which
rendered peace more risky than open war. This great genius had, in
fact, one fatal defect; he had little faith except in outward
compulsion; and his superabundant energy of menace against England
blighted the hopes of peace which he undoubtedly cherished.

Long before Alexander's offer of mediation was forwarded to London,
our Ministers had taken a sudden and desperate resolution. They
determined to compel Denmark to join England and Sweden, and to hold
the fleet at Copenhagen as a gauge of Danish fidelity.

That momentous resolve was formed on or just before July the 16th, in
consequence of news that had arrived from Memel and Tilsit. The exact
purport of that news, and the manner of its acquisition, have been one
of the puzzles of modern history. But the following facts seem to
furnish a solution. Our Foreign Office Records show that our agent at
Tilsit, Mr. Mackenzie, who was on confidential terms with General
Bennigsen, left post haste for England immediately after the first
imperial interview; and the news which he brought, together with
reports of the threatening moves of the French on Holstein, clinched
the determination of our Government to checkmate the Franco-Russian
aims by bringing strong pressure to bear on Denmark. To keep open the
mouth of the Baltic was an urgent necessity, otherwise we should lose
touch with the Anglo-Swedish forces campaigning against the French
near Stralsund.[160] Furthermore, it should be noted that Denmark held
the balance in naval affairs. France and her allies now had fifty-nine
sail of the line ready for sea: the compact with the Czar would give
her twenty-four more; and if Napoleon seized the eighteen Danish and
nine Portuguese battleships, his fighting strength would be nearly
equal to our own.[161] Canning therefore determined, on July 16th, to
compel Denmark to side with us, or at least to observe a neutrality
favourable to the British cause; and, to save her honour, he proposed
to send an irresistible naval force.

    "Denmark's safety," he wrote on July 16th, "is to be found, under
    the present circumstances of the world, only in a balance of
    opposite dangers. For it is not to be disguised that the influence
    which France has acquired from recent events over the North of
    Europe, might, unless balanced by the naval power of Great
    Britain, leave to Denmark no other option than that of compliance
    with the demands of Bonaparte."[162]

_A balance of opposite dangers!_ In this phrase Canning summed up his
policy towards Denmark. Threatened by Napoleon on the land, she was to
be threatened by us from the sea; and Canning hoped that these
opposite forces would, at least, secure Danish neutrality, without
which Sweden must succumb in her struggle against France. That some
compulsion would be needed had long been clear. In fact, the use of
compulsion had first been recommended by the Russian and Prussian
Governments, which had gone so far as to include in the Treaty of
Bartenstein a proposal of common action, along with England, Austria
and Sweden, _to compel Denmark to side with the allies against
Napoleon_.[163] To this resolve England still clung, despite the
defection of the Czar. In truth, his present conduct made the case for
the coercion of Denmark infinitely more urgent.

As to the reality of Napoleon's designs on Denmark, there can be no
doubt. After his return to France, he wrote from St. Cloud, directing
Talleyrand to express his displeasure that Denmark had not fulfilled
her _promises_: "Whatever my desire to treat Denmark well, I cannot
hinder her suffering from having allowed the Baltic to be violated [by
the English expedition to Stralsund]; and, if England refuses Russia's
mediation, Denmark must choose either to make war against England, or
against me."[164] Whence it is clear that Denmark had given Napoleon
grounds for hoping that she would declare the Baltic a _mare clausum_.

The British Government had so far fathomed these designs as to see the
urgency of the danger. Accordingly it proposed to Denmark a secret
defensive alliance, the chief terms of which were the handing over of
the Danish fleet, to be kept as a "sacred pledge" by us till the
peace, a subsidy of £100,000 paid to Denmark for that fleet, and the
offer of armed assistance in case she should be attacked by France.
This offer of defensive alliance was repulsed, and the Danish Prince
Royal determined to resist even the mighty armada which was now
nearing his shores. Towards the close of August, eighty-eight British
ships were in the Sound and the Belt; and when the transports from
Rügen and Stralsund joined those from Yarmouth, as many as 15,400
troops were at hand, under the command of Lord Cathcart. A landing was
effected near Copenhagen, and offers of alliance were again made,
including the deposit of the Danish fleet; "but if this offer is
rejected now, it cannot be repeated. The captured property, public and
private, must then belong to the captors: and the city, when taken,
must share the fate of conquered places." The Danes stoutly repelled
offers and threats alike: the English batteries thereupon bombarded
the city until the gallant defenders capitulated (September 7th). The
conditions hastily concluded by our commanders were that the British
forces should occupy the citadel and dockyard for six weeks, should
take possession of the ships and naval stores, and thereupon evacuate
Zealand.

These terms were scrupulously carried out; and at the close of six
weeks our forces sailed away with the Danish fleet, including fifteen
sail of the line, fifteen frigates, and thirty-one small vessels. This
end to the expedition was keenly regretted by Canning. In a lengthy
Memorandum he left it on record that he desired, not merely Denmark's
fleet, but her alliance. In his view nothing could save Europe but a
firm Anglo-Scandinavian league, which would keep open the Baltic and
set bounds to the designs of the two Emperors. Only by such an
alliance could Sweden be saved from Russia and France. Indeed,
foreseeing the danger to Sweden from a French army acting from Zealand
as a base, Canning proposed to Gustavus that he should occupy that
island, or, failing that, receive succour from a British force on his
own shore of the Sound. But both offers were declined. The final
efforts made to draw Denmark into our alliance were equally futile,
and she kept up hostilities against us for nearly seven years. Thus
Canning's scheme of alliance with the Scandinavian States failed.
Britain gained, it is true, a further safeguard against invasion; but
our statesman, while blaming the precipitate action of our commanders
in insisting solely upon the surrender of the fleet, declared that
that action, apart from an Anglo-Danish alliance, was "an act of great
injustice."[165]

And as such it has been generally regarded, that is, by those who did
not, and could not, know the real state of the case. In one respect
our action was unpardonable: it was not the last desperate effort of a
long period of struggle: it came after a time of selfish torpor fatal
alike to our reputation and the interests of our allies. After
protesting their inability to help them, Ministers belied their own
words by the energy with which they acted against a small State. And
the prevalent opinion found expression in the protests uttered in
Parliament that it would have been better to face the whole might of
the French, Russian, and Danish navies than to emulate the conduct of
those who had overrun and despoiled Switzerland.

Moreover, our action did not benefit Sweden, but just the reverse.
Cathcart's force, that had been helping the Swedes in the defence of
their Pomeranian province, was withdrawn in order to strengthen our
hands against Copenhagen. Thereupon the gallant Gustavus, overborne by
the weight of Marshal Brune's corps, sued for an armistice. It was
granted only on the condition that Stralsund should pass into Brune's
hands (August 20th); and the Swedes, unable even to hold Rügen, were
forced to give up that island also. Sick in health and weary of a
world that his chivalrous instincts scorned, Gustavus withdrew his
forces into Sweden. Even there he was menaced. The hostilities which
Denmark forthwith commenced against England and Sweden exposed his
southern coasts; but he now chose to lean on the valour of his own
subjects rather than on the broken reed of British assistance, and
awaited the attacks of the Danes on the west and of the Russians on
his province of Finland.

The news from Copenhagen also furnished the Czar with a good excuse
for hostilities with England. For such an event he had hitherto been
by no means desirous. On his return from Tilsit to St. Petersburg he
found the nobility and merchants wholly opposed to a rupture with the
Sea Power, the former disdaining to clasp the hand of the conqueror of
Friedland, the latter foreseeing ruin from the adoption of the
Continental System; and when Napoleon sent Savary on a special mission
to the Czar's Court, the Empress-Mother and nobles alike showed their
abhorrence of "the executioner of the Duc d'Enghien." In vain were
imperial favours lavished on this envoy. He confessed to Napoleon that
only the Czar and the new Foreign Minister, Romantzoff, were
favourable to France; and it was soon obvious that their ardour for a
partition of Turkey must disturb the warily balancing policy which
Napoleon adopted as soon as the Czar's friendship seemed assured.

The dissolution of this artificial alliance was a task far beyond the
powers of British statesmanship. To Alexander's offer of mediation
between France and England Canning replied that we desired first to
know what were "the just and equitable terms on which France intended
to negotiate," and secondly what were the secret articles of the
Treaty of Tilsit. That there were such was obvious; for the published
treaty made no mention of the Kings of Sardinia and of the two
Sicilies, in whom Alexander had taken so deep an interest. But the
second request annoyed the Czar; and this feeling was intensified by
our action at Copenhagen. Yet, though he pronounced it an act of
"unheard-of violence," the Russian official notes to our Government
were so far reassuring that Lord Castlereagh was able to write to Lord
Cathcart (September 22nd): "Russia does not show any disposition to
resent or to complain of what we have done at Copenhagen.... The tone
of the Russian cabinet has become much more conciliatory to us since
they heard of your operations at Copenhagen."[166] It would seem,
however, that this double-dealing was prompted by naval
considerations. The Czar desired to temporize until his Mediterranean
squadron should gain a place of safety and his Baltic ports be encased
in ice; but on 27th October (8th November, N.S.) he broke off all
communications with us, and adopted the Continental System.

Meanwhile, at the other extremity of Europe, events were transpiring
that served as the best excuse for our harshness towards Denmark. Even
before our fleet sailed for the Sound, Napoleon was weaving his plans
for the destruction of Portugal. It is clear that he designed to
strike her first before taking any action against Denmark. During his
return journey from Tilsit to Paris, he directed Talleyrand to send
orders to Lisbon for the closing of all Portuguese ports against
British goods by September the 1st--"in default of which I declare war
on Portugal." He also ordered the massing of 20,000 French troops at
Bayonne in readiness to join the Spanish forces that were to threaten
the little kingdom.[167]

What crime had Portugal committed? She had of late been singularly
passive: anxiously she looked on at the gigantic strifes that were
engulfing the smaller States one by one. Her conduct towards Napoleon
had been far less provocative than that of Denmark towards England.
Threatened with partition by him and Spain in 1801, she had eagerly
snatched at peace, and on the rupture of the Peace of Amiens was fain
to purchase her neutrality at the cost of a heavy subsidy to France,
which she still paid in the hope of prolonging her "existence on
sufferance."[168] That hope now faded away.

As far back as February, 1806, Napoleon had lent a ready ear to the
plans which Godoy, the all-powerful Minister at Madrid, had proposed
for the partition of Portugal; and, in the month of July following,
Talleyrand held out to our plenipotentiary at Paris the threat that,
unless England speedily made peace with France, Napoleon would annex
Switzerland--"but still less can we alter, for any other
consideration, our intention of invading Portugal. The army destined
for that purpose is already assembling at Bayonne." A year's respite
was gained for the House of Braganza by the campaigns of Jena and
Friedland. But now, with the tenacity of his nature, the Emperor
returned to the plan, actually tried in 1801 and prepared for in 1806,
of crushing our faithful ally in order to compel us to make peace. On
this occasion he counted on certain success, as may be seen by the
following extract from the despatch of the Portuguese ambassador at
Paris to his Government:

    "On Sunday afternoon [August 2nd] there was a diplomatic Levée.
    The Emperor came up to me as I stood in the circle, and in a low
    voice said: 'Have you written to your Court? Have you despatched a
    courier with my final determination?'--I replied in the
    affirmative.--'Very well,' said the Emperor, 'then by this time
    your Court knows that she must break with England before the 1st
    of September. It is the only way to accelerate peace.'--As the
    place did not permit discussion on my part, I answered: 'I should
    think, Sire, that England must now be sincerely anxious to make
    peace.'--'Oh,' replied the Emperor, 'we are very certain of that:
    however, in all cases, you must break either with England or
    France before the 1st of September.'--He then turned about and
    addressed himself to the Danish Minister, as far as I could judge
    to the same purport."[169]

Equally confident is Napoleon's tone in the lately published letter of
September 7th:

    "As soon as I received news of the English expedition against
    Copenhagen,[170] I caused Portugal to be informed that all her
    ports must be closed to England, and I massed an army of 40,000
    men at Bayonne to join the Spaniards in enforcing this action, if
    necessary. But a letter I have just received from the Prince
    Regent [of Portugal] leads me to presume that this last measure
    will not be necessary, that the Portuguese ports will be closed to
    the English by the time this is read, and that Portugal will have
    declared war against England. On the other hand, my flotilla will
    be ready for action on 1st October, and I shall have a large army
    at Boulogne, ready to attempt a _coup de main_ on England."

The letter concludes by ordering that all British diplomatists are to
be driven _out of Europe_, and that Sweden must make common cause with
France and Russia. Such were the means to be used for forcing
affrighted Peace again to visit this distracted earth.

In truth, the fate of the British race seemed for the time to hang
upon the events at Copenhagen and Lisbon. Very much depended on the
action of the Prince Regent of Portugal. Had he tamely submitted to
Napoleon's ukase and placed his fleet and his vast colonial empire at
the service of France, it is doubtful whether even the high-souled
Canning would not have stooped to surrender in face of odds so
overwhelming. The young statesman's anxiety as to the action of
Portugal is attested by many a long and minutely corrected despatch to
Viscount Strangford, our envoy at Lisbon. But, fortunately for us,
Napoleon committed the blunder which so often marred his plans: he
pushed them too far: he required the Prince Regent to adopt a course
of conduct repellent to an honourable man, namely, to confiscate the
merchandise and property of British merchants who had long trusted the
good faith of the House of Braganza. To this last demand the prince
opposed a dignified resistance, though on all other points he gave
way. This will appear from Lord Strangford's despatch of August 13th:

    " ... The Portuguese Ministers place all their hopes of being able
    to ward off this terrible blow in the certainty which they
    entertain of England being obliged to enter into negotiations for
    a general peace.... The very existence of the Portuguese Monarchy
    depends on the celerity with which England shall meet the pacific
    interference of the Emperor of Russia. The Prince Regent gives the
    most solemn promise that he will not on any account consent to the
    measure of confiscating the property of British subjects residing
    under his protection. But I think that if France could be induced
    to give up this point, and limit her demands to the exclusion of
    British commerce from Portugal, the Government of this country
    would accede to them...."

A week later he states that Portugal begged England to put up with a
temporary rupture, and reports that a quantity of diamonds had been
taken out of the Treasury and sent to Paris to be distributed in
presents to persons supposed to possess influence over the minds of
Bonaparte and Talleyrand. It would be interesting to trace the history
of these diamonds. But, as Napoleon had recently awarded sums
amounting in all to 26,582,000 francs from out of the estates
confiscated in Poland,[171] signs of sudden affluence were widespread
in Paris and rendered it difficult to detect the receivers of the
gems. Talleyrand was the usual recipient of such _douceurs_. But on
August the 14th he had retired from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
gaining the title of Vice Grand-Elector; and, if we are to be guided,
not by the statements of his personal foes, Hauterive and Pasquier,
but by the determination which he is known to have formed at Tilsit,
that he would not be "the executioner of Europe," we may judge that he
disapproved of the barbarous treatment meted out to Prussia and now
planned against Portugal.[172]

As has been stated above, the partition of this kingdom had been
planned by Godoy in concert with Napoleon early in 1806. That pampered
minion of the Spanish Court, angry at the shelving of plans which
promised to yield him a third of Portugal, called Spain to arms while
Napoleon was marching to Jena, an affront which the conqueror seemed
to overlook but never really forgave. Now, however, he appeared wholly
to enter into Godoy's scheme; and, while the Prince Regent of Portugal
was appealing to his pity, the Emperor (September 25th, 1807) charged
Duroc to confer with Godoy's confidential agent at Paris, Don
Izquierdo. " ...As for Portugal, I make no difficulty about granting to
the King of Spain a suzerainty over Portugal, and even taking part of
it away for the Queen of Etruria and the Prince of the Peace [Godoy]."
Duroc was also to point out the difficulty, now that "all Italy"
belonged to Napoleon, of allowing "that deformity," the kingdom of
Etruria, to disfigure the peninsula. The change would in fact, doubly
benefit the French Emperor. It would enable him completely to exclude
British commerce from the port of Leghorn, where it was trickling in
alarmingly, and also to place the mouths of the Tagus and Douro in the
hands of obedient vassals.

Such was the scheme in outline. Despite the offer of the Prince Regent
to obey all Napoleon's behests except that relating to the seizure of
British subjects and their property, war was irrevocably resolved on
by October the 12th.[173] And on October the 27th a secret convention
was signed at the Palace of Fontainebleau for arranging "the future
lot of Portugal by a healthy policy and conformably to the interests
of France and Spain." Portugal was now to be divided into three very
unequal parts: the largest portion, comprising Estremadura, Beira, and
Tras-os Montes, was reserved for a future arrangement at the general
peace, but meanwhile was to be held by France: Algarve and Alemtejo
were handed over to Godoy; while the diminutive province of Entre
Minho e Douro was flung as a sop to the young King of Etruria and his
mother, a princess of the House of Spain, to console them for the loss
of Etruria. A vague promise was made that the House of Braganza might
be reinstated in the first of these three portions, in case England
restored Gibraltar, Trinidad, and other colonies taken by her from
Spain or her allies; and Napoleon guaranteed to the King of Spain his
possessions in Europe, exclusive of the Balearic Isles, offering also
to recognize him as Emperor of the Two Americas.

Meanwhile Junot was leading his army corps from Bayonne towards
Salamanca and Ciudad Rodrigo, to give effect to this healthful
arrangement. This general, whom it was desirable to remove from Paris
on account of his rather too open _liaison_ with one of the Bonaparte
princesses, was urged to the utmost speed and address by the Emperor.
He must cover the whole 200 leagues in thirty-five days; lack of
provisions must not hinder the march, for "20,000 men can live
anywhere, even in a desert"; and, above all, as the Prince Regent had
again offered to declare war on England, he (Junot) could represent
that he came as an ally: "I have already informed you that my
intention in authorizing you to enter that land as an ally was to
enable you to seize its fleet, but that my mind was fully made up to
take possession of Portugal."[174] Lisbon, in fact, was to be served
as Venice was ten years before, the lion donning the skin of the fox
so as to effect a peaceful seizure. But that ruse could hardly succeed
twice. The Prince Regent had his ships ready for flight. The bluff and
headstrong Junot, nicknamed "the tempest" by the army, was too artless
to catch the prince by guile; but he hurried his soldiers over
mountains and through flooded gorges until, on November 30th, 1,500
tattered, shoeless, famished grenadiers straggled into Lisbon--to find
that the royal quarry had flown.

The Prince Regent took this momentous resolve with the utmost
reluctance. For many weeks he had clung to the hope that Napoleon
would spare him; and though he accepted a convention with England,
whereby he gained the convoy of our men-of-war across the Atlantic and
the promise of aggrandizement in South America, he still continued to
temporize, and that too, when a British fleet was at hand in the Tagus
strong enough to thwart the designs of the Russian squadron there
present to prevent his departure. When the French were within two
days' march of Lisbon, Lord Strangford feared that the Portuguese
fleet would be delivered into their hands; and only after a trenchant
declaration that further vacillation would be taken as a sign of
hostility to Great Britain, did the Prince Regent resolve to seek
beyond the seas the independence which was denied to him in his own
realm.[175]

Few scenes are more pathetic than the departure of the House of
Braganza from the cradle of its birth. Love for the Prince Regent as a
man, mingled with pity for the demented Queen, held the populace of
Lisbon in tearful silence as the royal family and courtiers filed
along the quays, followed by agonized groups of those who had decided
to share their trials. But silence gave way to wails of despair as the
exiles embarked on the heaving estuary and severed the last links with
Europe. Slowly the fleet began to beat down the river in the teeth of
an Atlantic gale. Near the mouth the refugees were received with a
royal salute by the British fleet, and under its convoy they breasted
the waves of the ocean and the perils of the future.

The conduct of England towards Denmark and that of Napoleon towards
Portugal call for a brief comparison. Those small kingdoms were the
victims of two powerful States whose real or fancied interests
prompted them to the domination of the land and of the sea. But when
we compare the actions of the two Great Powers, important differences
begin to reveal themselves. England had far more cause for complaint
against Denmark than Napoleon had against Portugal. The hostility of
the Danes to the recent coalition was notorious. To compel them to
change their policy without loss of national honour, we sent the most
powerful armada that had ever left our shores, with offers of alliance
and a demand that their fleet, the main object of Napoleon's designs,
should be delivered up to be held in deposit. The offer was refused,
and we seized the fleet. The act was brutal, but it was at least open
and above board, and the capitulation of September 7th was
scrupulously observed, even when the Danes prepared to renew
hostilities.

On the other hand, the demands of Napoleon on the Court of Lisbon were
such as no honourable prince could accept; they were relentlessly
pressed on in spite of the offer of the Prince Regent to meet him in
every particular save one; the appeals of the victim were deliberately
used by the aggressor to further his own rapacious designs; and the
enterprise fell short of ending in a massacre only because the glamour
of the French arms so dazzled the susceptible people of the south
that, for the present, they sank helplessly away at the sight of two
battalions of spectres. Finally, Portugal was partitioned--or rather
it was kept entirely by Napoleon; for, after the promises of partition
had done their work, the sleeping partners in the transaction were
quietly shelved, and it was then seen that Portugal had finally served
as the bait for ensnaring Spain. To this subject we shall return in
the next chapter.

In Italy also, the Juggernaut car of the Continental System rolled
over the small States. The Kingdom of Etruria, which in 1802 had
served as an easy means of buying the whole of Louisiana from the
Spanish Bourbons, was now wrested from that complaisant House, and in
December was annexed to the French Empire.

The Pope also passed under the yoke. For a long time the relations
between Pius VII. and Napoleon had been strained. Gentle as the
Pontiff was by nature, he had declined to exclude all British
merchandise from his States, or to accept an alliance with Eugène and
Joseph. He also angered Napoleon by persistently refusing to dissolve
the marriage of Jerome Buonaparte with Miss Paterson; and an
interesting correspondence ensued, culminating in a long diatribe
which Eugène was charged to forward to the Vatican as an extract from
a private letter of Napoleon to himself.[176] Pius VII. was to be
privately warned that Napoleon had done more good to religion than the
Pope had done harm. Christ had said that His Kingdom was not of this
world. Why then did the Pope set himself above Christ? Why did he
refuse to render to Cæsar that which was Cæsar's?--A fortnight later
the Emperor advised Eugène to despatch troops in the direction of
Bologna--"and if the Pope commits an imprudence, it will be a fine
opportunity for depriving him of the Roman States."

No imprudence was committed. Yet, in the following January, Napoleon
ordered his troops to occupy Rome, alleging that the Eternal City was
a hotbed of intrigues fomented by England and the ex-Queen of Naples,
that Neapolitan rebels had sought an asylum in the Papal States, and
that, though he had no wish to deprive the Pope of his territories,
yet he must include him in his "system." When Pius VII. refused to
commit himself to a policy which would involve war with England,
Napoleon ordered that his lands east of the Apennines should be
annexed to the Kingdom of Italy (April 2nd, 1808). Napoleon thus
gained complete control over the Adriatic coasts, which, along with
the island of Corfu, had long engaged his most earnest attention.[177]

True to his aim of forcing or enticing all maritime States into a
mighty confederacy for the humiliation of England, Napoleon had given
most heed to lands possessing extensive seaboards. Northern Italy,
Holland, Naples, North Germany, Prussia, Russia, Portugal, Spain,
Denmark, and Central Italy had, in turn, adopted his system. On
Austria he exerted a less imperious pressure; for her coast-line of
Trieste and Croatia was so easily controlled by his Italian and
Dalmatian territories that English merchandise with difficulty found
admittance. Yet, in order to carry out there also his policy of
"Thorough," he brought the arguments of Paris and St. Petersburg to
bear on the Court of Vienna; and on February 18th, 1808, Austria was
enrolled in a league that might well be called continental; for in the
spring of that year it embraced every land save Sweden and Turkey.

His activity at this time almost passes belief. While he fastened his
grip on the Continent, gallicized the institutions of Italy and
Germany, and almost daily instructed his brothers in the essentials of
successful statecraft, he found time to turn his thoughts once more to
the East, and to mark every device of England for lengthening her
lease of life. Noticing that we had annulled our blockade of the Elbe
and Weser, with the aim of getting our goods introduced there by
neutral ships, Napoleon charged his Finance Minister, Gaudin, to
prepare a decree for pressing hard on neutrals who had touched at any
of our ports or carried wares that could be proved to be of British
origin.[178]

He was perfectly correct in his surmise that English goods were about
to be sent into the Continent extensively on neutral vessels. After
the consequences of the Treaty of Tilsit had been fully developed,
that was almost their only means of entry. "In August, September and
October, British commerce lay prostrate and motionless until a
protecting and self-defensive system was interposed by our Orders in
Council."[179] The first of these ordered reprisals against the new
Napoleonic States (November 4th): a week later came a second which
declared that, as the Orders of January had not induced the enemy to
relax his commercial hostilities, but these were now enforced with
increased rigour, any port whence the British flag was excluded would
be treated as if it were actually blockaded; that is, the principle of
the legality of a nominal blockade, abandoned in 1801, was now
reaffirmed. The carriage of hostile colonial products was likewise
prohibited to neutrals, though certain exceptions were allowed. Also
any neutral vessel carrying "certificates of origin"--a device for
distinguishing between British and neutral goods--was to be considered
a lawful prize of war. A third Order in Council of the same date
allowed goods to be imported into the United Kingdom from a hostile
port in neutral ships, subject to the ordinary duties, and bonding
facilities were granted for the re-exportation of such goods to any
friendly or neutral port.[180] These orders were designed to draw
neutral commerce through our ports, and to give secret facilities for
the carriage of our goods by neutrals, while pressing upon those that
obeyed Napoleon's system.

The harshest of them was that which encouraged the searching of
neutral vessels for certificates of origin--a measure as severe as the
confiscation of British property by Napoleon, which it was designed to
defeat. And we may note here that the friction resulting from our
Orders in Council and our enforcement of the right of search led to
the United States passing a Non-Intercourse Act (December 23rd, 1807)
that preluded active hostilities against us. It also led Napoleon to
confiscate all American ships in his harbours after April 17th, 1808.

The November Orders in Council soon drew a reply from Napoleon. He
heard of them during a progress through the north of Italy, and from
Milan he flung back his retort, the famous Milan Decrees of November
23rd and December 17th. He thereby declared every neutral ship, which
submitted to those orders, to be denationalized and good prize of war;
and the same doom was pronounced against every vessel sailing to or
from any port in the United Kingdom or its colonies or possessions.
But these measures were not to affect ships of those States that
compelled Great Britain to respect their flag. The islanders might
well be dismayed at the prospect of a seclusion which promised to
recall the Virgilian line:

  "penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos."

Yet they resolved to pit the resources of the outer world against the
militarism of Napoleon; and, drawing the resources of the tropics to
the new power-looms of Lancashire and Yorkshire, they might well hope
to pour their unequalled goods into Europe from points of vantage such
as Sicily, Gibraltar, the Channel Islands, and Heligoland. There were
many Englishmen who believed that the November Orders in Council
brought nothing but harm to our cause. They argued that our
manufactured goods must find their way into the Continent in spite of
the Berlin Decrees; and they could point to the curious fact that
Bourrienne, Napoleon's agent at Hamburg, when charged to procure
50,000 overcoats for the French army during the Eylau campaign, was
obliged to buy them from England.[181]

The incident certainly proves the folly of the Continental System. And
if we had had to consult our manufacturing interests alone, a policy
of _laisser faire_ would doubtless have been the best. England,
however, prided herself on her merchant service: to that she looked as
the nursery for the royal navy: and the abandonment of the world's
carrying trade to neutrals would have seemed an act of high treason.
Her acts of retaliation against the Berlin Decrees and the policy of
Tilsit were harsh and high-handed. But they were adopted during a
pitiless commercial strife; and, in warfare of so novel and desperate
a kind, acts must unfortunately be judged by their efficacy to harm
the foe rather than by the standards of morality that hold good during
peace. Outwardly, it seemed as if England were doomed. She had lost
her allies and alienated the sympathies of neutrals. But from the sea
she was able to exert on the Napoleonic States a pressure that was
gradual, cumulative, and resistless; and the future was to prove the
wisdom of the words of Mollien: "England waged a warfare of modern
times; Napoleon, that of ancient times. There are times and cases when
an anachronism is fatal."

Moreover, at the very time when the Emperor was about to complete his
great experiment by subduing Sweden and preparing for the partition of
Turkey, it sustained a fatal shock by the fierce rising of the Spanish
people against his usurped authority.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXVIII

THE SPANISH RISING


The relations of Spain to France during the twelve years that preceded
the rising of 1808 are marked by acts of folly and unmanly
complaisance that promised utterly to degrade a once proud and
sensitive people. They were the work of the senile and spiritless
King, Charles IV., of his intriguing consort, and, above all, of her
paramour, the all-powerful Minister Godoy. Of an ancient and
honourable family, endowed with a fine figure, courtly address, and
unscrupulous arts, this man had wormed himself into the royal
confidence; and after bringing about a favourable peace with France in
1795, he was styled The Prince of the Peace.

In the next year the meaning of the French alliance was revealed in
the Treaty of St. Ildefonso, which required Spain to furnish troops,
ships, and subsidies for the war against England, a state of vassalage
which was made harder by Napoleon. The results are well known. After
being forced by him to cede Trinidad to us at the Peace of Amiens, she
sacrificed her navy at Trafalgar, saw her colonies and commerce decay
and her finances shrivel for lack of the golden streams formerly
poured in by Mexico and Peru.

In the summer of 1806, while sinking into debt and disgrace, the Court
of Madrid heard with indignation of Napoleon's design to hand over the
Balearic Isles to the Spanish Bourbons whom he had driven from Naples
and proposed to drive from Sicily. At once Spanish pride caught fire
and clutched at means of revenge.[182] Godoy was further incensed by
the sudden abandonment of the plans which he had long discussed with
Napoleon for the partition of Portugal, plans which gave him the
prospect of reigning as King over the southern portion of that
realm.[183] Accordingly, when the Emperor was entering upon the Jena
campaign, he summoned the Spanish people to arms in a most threatening
manner. The news of the collapse of Prussia ended his bravado.
Complaisance again reigned at Madrid, and 15,000 Spaniards were sent,
at Napoleon's demand, to serve on the borders of Denmark, while the
autocrat of the West perfected his plans against the Iberian
Peninsula. As was noted in the previous chapter, the Emperor renewed
his offers of a partition of Portugal in the early autumn of 1807; and
in pursuance of the secret Treaty of Fontainebleau, Junot's corps
marched through Spain into Portugal, where they were helped by a
Spanish corps.

It is significant that, as early as October 17th, 1807, Napoleon
ordered his general to send a detailed description of the country and
of his line of march, the engineer officers being specially charged to
send sketches, "_which it is important to have_." Other French
divisions then crossed the Pyrenees, under plea of keeping open
Junot's communications with France; and spies were sent to observe the
state of the chief Spanish strongholds. Others were charged to report
on the condition of the Spanish army and the state of public opinion;
while Junot was cautioned to keep a sharp watch on the Spanish troops
in Portugal, to allow no fortress to be in their hands, and to send
all the Portuguese troops away to France. Thus, in the early days of
1808, Napoleon had some 20,000 troops in Portugal, about 40,000 in the
north of Spain, and 12,000 in Catalonia. By various artifices they
gained admission into the strongholds of Pamplona, Monjuik, Barcelona,
St. Sebastian, and Figueras, so that by the month of March the north
and west of the peninsula had passed quietly into his hands, while the
greater part of the Spanish army was doing his work in Portugal or on
the shores of the Baltic.[184]

These proceedings began to arouse alarm and discontent among the
Spanish people; but on its Government their influence was as benumbing
as that which the boa-constrictor exerts on its prey. In vain did
Charles IV. and Godoy strive to set a limit to the numbers of the
auxiliaries that poured across the Pyrenees to help them against
fabled English expeditions. In vain did they beg that the partition of
Portugal might now proceed in accordance with the terms of the secret
Treaty of Fontainebleau. The King was curtly told that affairs were
not yet ripe for the publication of that treaty.[185] And the growing
conviction that he had been duped poured gall into the cup of family
bitterness that had long been full to overflowing.

The scandalous relations of the Queen with Godoy had deeply incensed
the heir to the throne, Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias. His attitude of
covert opposition to his parents and their minion was strengthened by
the influence of his bride, a daughter of the ex-Queen of Naples, and
their palace was the headquarters of all who hoped to end the
degradation of the kingdom. As later events were to prove, Ferdinand
had not the qualities of courage and magnanimity that command general
homage; but it was enough for his countrymen that he opposed the
Court. In 1806 his consort died; and on October 11th, 1807, without
consulting his father, he secretly wrote to Napoleon, requesting the
hand of a Bonaparte princess in marriage, and stating that such an
alliance was the ardent wish of all Spaniards, while they would abhor
his union with a sister of the Princess of the Peace. To this letter
Napoleon sent no reply. But Charles IV. had some inkling of the fact
that the prince had been treating direct with Napoleon; and this,
along with another unfilial action of the prince, furnished an excuse
for a charge of high treason. It was spitefully pressed home and was
revoked only on his humble request for the King's pardon.

Now, this "School for Scandal" was being played at Madrid at the time
when Napoleon was arranging the partition of Portugal; and the schism
in the Spanish royal House may well have strengthened his
determination to end its miserable existence and give a good
government to Spain. At the close of the so-called palace plot,
Charles IV. informed his august ally of _that frightful attempt_, and
begged him to _give the aid of his lights and his counsels_.[186] The
craven-hearted King thus himself opened the door for that intervention
which Napoleon had already meditated. His resolve now rapidly
hardened. At the close of January, 1808, he wrote to Junot asking him:
"If unexpected events occurred in Spain, what would you fear from the
Spanish troops? Could you easily rid yourself of them?"[187] On
February the 20th he appointed Murat, Grand Duke of Berg, to be his
Lieutenant in Spain and commander of the French Forces. The choice of
this bluff, headstrong cavalier, who had done so much to provoke
Prussia in 1806, certainly betokened a forward policy. Yet the Emperor
continued to smile on the Spanish Court, and gave a sort of half
sanction to the union of Ferdinand with a daughter of Lucien
Bonaparte.[188] In fact, the hope of this alliance was now used to
keep quiet the numerous partisans of Ferdinand, while Murat advanced
rapidly towards Madrid. To his Lieutenant the Emperor wrote (March
16th): "Continue your kindly talk. Reassure the King, the Prince of
the Peace, the Prince of Asturias, the Queen. The chief thing is to
reach Madrid, to rest your troops and replenish your provisions. Say
that I am about to come so as to arrange matters."

As to Napoleon's real aims, Murat was in complete ignorance; and he
repeatedly complained of the lack of confidence which a brother-in-law
had a right to expect.[189] But while the Grand Duke of Berg beamed on
the Spaniards with meaningless affability, Izquierdo, Godoy's secret
agent at Paris, troubled his master with gloomy reports of the
deepening reserve and lowering threats of Ministers at Paris. There
was talk of requiring from Spain the cession of her lands between the
Pyrenees and the Ebro: there were even dark suggestions as to the need
of dethroning the Spanish Bourbons once for all. Interpreting these
hints in the light of their own consciences, the King, Queen, and
favourite saw themselves in imagination flung forth into the Atlantic,
a butt to the scorn of mankind; and they prepared to flee to the New
World betimes, with the needful treasure.

But there, too, Napoleon forestalled them. On February 21st a secret
order was sent to a French squadron to anchor off Cadiz and stop the
King and Queen of Spain if they sought to "repeat the scene of
Lisbon."[190] Their escape to America would be even more favourable to
England than the flight of the Court of Lisbon had been; and Napoleon
took good care that the King, to whom he had awarded the title of
Emperor of the two Americas, should remain a prisoner in Europe.
Scared, however, by the approach of Murat and the news from Paris,
Charles still prepared for flight; and the Queen's anxiety to save her
favourite from the growing fury of the populace also bent her desires
seawards.

The Court was at the palace of Aranjuez, not far from Madrid, and it
seemed easy to escape into Andalusia, and to carry away, by guile or
by force, the heir to the throne. But Ferdinand, who hoped for
deliverance at the hands of the French, thwarted the scheme by a
timely hint to his faithful guards. At once his partisans gathered
round him; and the people, rushing to Godoy's residence, madly
ransacked it in the hope of tearing to pieces the author of the
nation's ruin. After thirty-six hours' concealment, Godoy ventured to
steal forth; at once he was discovered, was kicked and beaten; and
only the intervention of Ferdinand, prompted by the agonized
entreaties of his mother, availed to save the dregs of that wretched
life. The roars of the crowd around the palace, and the smashing of
the royal carriage, now decided the King to abdicate; and he declared
that his declining years and failing health now led him to yield the
crown to Ferdinand (March 19th, 1808).

Loud was the acclaim that greeted the young King when he entered
Madrid; but the rejoicings were soon damped by the ambiguous behaviour
of Murat, who, on entering Madrid at the head of his troops, skilfully
evaded any recognition of Ferdinand as King. In fact, Murat had
received (March 21st) a letter from Charles IV.'s daughter begging for
his help to her parents at Aranjuez; and it soon transpired that the
ex-King and Queen now repented of their abdication, which they
represented as brought about by force and therefore null and void. The
Grand Duke of Berg saw the advantage which this dispute might give to
Napoleon; and he begged the Emperor to come immediately to Madrid for
the settlement of matters on which he alone could decide. To this
Napoleon replied (March 30th) commending his Lieutenant's prudence,
and urging him to escort Charles IV. to the Escurial as King, while
Godoy was also to be protected and sent to Bayonne.

To this town the Emperor set out on April the 2nd, as though he would
thence proceed to Madrid. Ferdinand, meanwhile, was treated with
guarded courtesy that kept alive his hope of an alliance with a French
princess. To favour this notion, Napoleon despatched the wariest of
his agents, Savary, who artfully persuaded him to meet the Emperor at
Burgos. He succeeded, and even induced him to continue his journey to
Vittoria. At that place the citizens sought to cut the traces of the
royal carriage, so much did they fear treachery if he proceeded
further. Yet the young King, beguiled by the Emperor's letter of April
16th, which offered the hand of a French princess, prolonged his
journey, crossed the frontier, and was received by Napoleon at Bayonne
(April 20th). His arguments, proving that his father's abdication had
been voluntary, fell on deaf ears. The Emperor invited him to dinner,
and afterwards sent Savary to inform him that he must hand back the
crown to his father. To this Ferdinand returned a firm refusal; and
his advisers, Escoiquiz and Labrador, ventured to warn the Emperor
that the Spaniards would swear eternal hatred to France if he tampered
with the crown of Spain. Napoleon listened good-humouredly, pulled
Escoiquiz by the ear as a sign of his personal regard, and added: "You
are a deep fellow; but, I tell you, the Bourbons will never let me
alone." On the next day he offered Ferdinand the throne of Etruria. It
was coldly declined.[191]

Charles IV., his Queen, and Godoy, arrived at Bayonne at the close of
April. The ex-King had offered to put himself and his claim in
Napoleon's hands, which was exactly what the Emperor desired. The
feeble creature now poured forth his bile on his disobedient son, and
peevishly bade him restore the crown. Ferdinand assented, provided his
father would really reign, and would dismiss those advisers who were
hated by the nation; but the attempt to impose conditions called forth
a flash of senile wrath, along with the remark that "one ought to do
everything _for_ the people and nothing _by_ the people."

Meanwhile the men of Madrid were not acting with the passivity desired
by their philosophizing monarch. At first they had welcomed Murat as
delivering them from the detested yoke of Godoy; but the conduct of
the French in their capital, and the detention of Ferdinand at
Bayonne, aroused angry feelings, which burst forth on May the 2nd, and
long defied the grapeshot of Murat's guns and the sabres of his
troopers. The news of this so-called revolt gave Napoleon another
handle against his guests. He hurried to Charles and cowed him by
well-simulated signs of anger, which that _roi fainéant_ thereupon
vented on his son, with a passion that was outdone only by the shrill
gibes of the Queen. At the close of this strange scene, the Emperor
interposed with a few stern words, threatening to treat the prince as
a rebel if he did not that very evening restore the crown to his
father. Ferdinand braved the parental taunts in stolid silence, but
before the trenchant threats of Napoleon he quailed, and broke down.

Resistance was now at an end. On that same night (May 5th) the Emperor
concluded with Godoy a convention whereby Charles IV. agreed to hand
over to Napoleon the crowns of Spain and the Indies, on consideration
that those dominions should remain intact, should keep the Roman
Catholic faith to the exclusion of all others, and that he himself
should be pensioned off with the estates of Compiègne and Chambord,
receiving a yearly income of seven and a half million francs, payable
by the French treasury. The Spanish princes were similarly treated,
Ferdinand signing away his rights for a castle and a pension. To crown
the farce, Napoleon ordered Talleyrand to receive them at his estate
of Valençay, and amuse them with actors and the charms of female
society. Thus the choicest humorist of the age was told off to
entertain three uninteresting exiles; and the ex-Minister of Foreign
Affairs, who disapproved of the treachery of Bayonne, was made to
appear the Emperor's accomplice.

Such were the means whereby Napoleon gained the crowns of Spain and
the Indies, without striking a blow.

His excuse for the treachery as expressed at the time was as follows:
"My action is not good from a certain point of view, I know. But my
policy demands that I shall not leave in my rear, so near to Paris, a
dynasty hostile to mine." From this and from other similar remarks, it
would seem that his resolve to dethrone the Bourbons was taken while
on his march to Jena, but was thrust down into the abyss of his
inscrutable will for a whole year, until Junot's march to Lisbon
furnished a safe means for effecting the subjugation of Spain. This
end he thenceforth pursued unswervingly with no sign of remorse, or
even of hesitation--unless we accept as genuine the almost certainly
spurious letter of March 29th, 1808. That letter represents him as
blaming Murat for entering Madrid, when he had repeatedly urged him to
do so; as asking his advice after he had all along kept him in
ignorance as to his aims; and as writing a philosophical homily on the
unused energies of the Spanish people, for whom in his genuine letters
he expressed a lofty contempt.[192]

The whole enterprise is, indeed, a masterpiece of skill, but a
masterpiece marred by ineffaceable stains of treachery. And at the
close of his life, he himself said: "I embarked very badly on the
Spanish affair, I confess: the immorality of it was too patent, the
injustice too cynical, and the whole thing wears an ugly look since I
have fallen; for the attempt is only seen in its hideous nakedness
deprived of all majesty and of the many benefits which completed my
intention."

That he hoped to reform Spain is certain. Political and social reforms
had hitherto consolidated the work of conquest; and those which he
soon offered to the Spaniards might possibly have renovated that
nation, had they not been handed in at the sword's point; but the
motive was too obvious, the intervention too insulting, to render
success possible with the most sensitive people in Europe. On May 2nd
he wrote to Murat that he intended King Joseph of Naples to reign at
Madrid, and offered to Murat either Portugal or Naples.[193] He chose
the latter. Joseph was allowed no choice in the matter. He was
summoned from Naples to Bayonne, and, on arriving at Pau, heard with
great surprise that he was King of Spain.

Napoleon's selection was tactful. At Naples, the eldest of the
Bonapartes had effected many reforms and was generally popular; but
the treachery of Bayonne blasted all hopes of his succeeding at
Madrid. Though the grandees of Spain welcomed the new monarch with
courtly grace, though Charles IV. gave him his blessing, though
Ferdinand demeaned himself by advising his former subjects quietly to
submit, the populace willed otherwise.

Every instinct of the Spanish nature was aflame with resentment.
Loathing for Charles IV., his Queen, and their favourite, whom
Napoleon richly dowered, love of the young King whom he falsely
filched away, detestation of the French troops who outraged the rights
of hospitality, and zeal for the Roman Catholic Church, whose chief
had just been robbed of half his States, goaded the Spaniards to
madness. Their indignation rumbled hoarsely for a time, like a volcano
in labour, and then burst forth in an explosion of fury. The
constitution which Napoleon presented to the Spanish Notables at
Bayonne was accepted by them, only to be flung back with scorn by the
people. The men of enlightenment who counselled prudence and patience
were slain by raging mobs or sought safety in flight. The rising was
at once national in its grand spontaneity and local in its intensity.
Province after province rose in arms, except the north and centre,
where 80,000 French troops held the patriots in check. In the van of
the movement was the rugged little province of Asturias, long ago the
forlorn hope of the Christians in their desperate conflicts with the
Moors. Intrenched behind their mountains and proud of their ancient
fame, the Asturians ventured on the sublime folly of declaring war
against the ruler of the West and the lord of 900,000 warriors.
Swiftly Galicia and Leon in the north repeated the challenge; while in
the south, the fertile lands of Andalusia, Murcia, and Valencia
flashed back from their mountains the beacon lights of a national war.
The former dislike of England was forgotten. The Juntas of Asturias,
Galicia, and Andalusia sent appeals to us for help, to which Canning
generously responded; and, on July 4th, we passed at a single bound
from war with the Spanish Bourbons to an informal alliance with the
people of Spain.

Napoleon now began to see the magnitude of his error. Instead of
gaining control over Spain and the Indies, he had changed
long-suffering allies into irreconcilable foes. He prepared to conquer
Spain. While Joseph was escorted to his new capital by a small army,
Napoleon from Bayonne directed the operations of his generals. Holding
the northern road from Bayonne to Burgos and Madrid, they were to send
out cautious feelers against the bands of insurgents; for, as Napoleon
wrote to Savary (July 13th): "In civil wars it is the important posts
that must be held: one ought not to go everywhere." Weighty words,
which his lieutenants in Spain were often to disregard! Bessières in
the north gained a success at Medina de Rio Seco; but a signal
disaster in the south ruined the whole campaign. Dupont, after beating
the levies of Andalusia, penetrated into the heart of that great
province, and, when cumbered with plunder, his divided forces were
surrounded, cut off from their supplies, and forced to surrender at
Baylen--in all about 20,000 men (July 19th). The news that a French
army had laid down its arms caused an immense sensation in an age when
Napoleon's troops were held to be invincible. Baylen was hailed
everywhere by despairing patriots as the dawn of a new era. And such
it was to be. If Valmy proclaimed the advent of militant democracy,
the victory of Spaniards over one of the bravest of Napoleon's
generals was felt to be an even greater portent. It ushered in the
epoch of national resistance to the overweening claims of the Emperor
of the West.

That truth he seems dimly to have surmised. His rage on hearing of the
capitulation was at first too deep for words. Then he burst out:
"Could I have expected that from Dupont, a man whom I loved, and was
rearing up to become a Marshal? They say he had no other way to save
the lives of his soldiers. Better, far better, to have died with arms
in their hands. Their death would have been glorious: we should have
avenged them. You can always supply the place of soldiers. Honour
alone, when once lost, can never be regained."

Moreover, the material consequences were considerable. The Spaniards
speedily threatened Madrid; and, on the advice of Savary, Joseph
withdrew from his capital after a week's sojourn, and fell back
hurriedly on the line of the Upper Ebro, where the French rallied for
a second advance.

Their misfortunes did not end here. In the north-east the hardy
Catalans had risen against the invaders, and by sheer pluck and
audacity cooped them up in their ill-gotten strongholds of Barcelona
and Figueras. The men of Arragon, too, never backward in upholding
their ancient liberties, rallied to defend their capital Saragossa.
Their rage was increased by the arrival of Palafox, who had escaped in
disguise from the suite of Ferdinand at Bayonne, and brought news of
the treachery there perpetrated. Beaten outside their ancient city,
and unable to hold its crumbling walls against the French cannon and
columns of assault, the defenders yet fiercely turned to bay amidst
its narrow lanes and massive monasteries. There a novel warfare was
waged. From street to street and house to house the fight eddied for
days, the Arragonese opposing to French valour the stubborn devotion
ever shown by the peoples of the peninsula in defence of their walled
cities, and an enthusiasm kindled by the zeal of their monks and the
heroism of the Maid of Saragossa. Finally, on August 10th, the noble
city shook off the grip of the 15,000 assailants, who fell back to
join Joseph's forces higher up the Ebro.

Even now the Emperor did not fully realize the serious nature of the
war that was beginning. Despite Savary's warnings of the dangers to be
faced in Spain, he persisted in thinking of it as an ordinary war that
could be ended by good strategy and a few victories. He censured
Joseph and Savary for giving up the line of the Upper Douro: he blamed
them next for the evacuation of Tudela, and summed up the situation by
stating that "all the Spanish forces are not able to overthrow 25,000
French in a reasonable position"--adding, with stinging satire: "In
war _men_ are nothing: it is _a man_ who is everything."

When, at the close of August, Napoleon penned these memorable words in
his palace of St. Cloud, he knew not that a _man_ had arrived on the
scene of action. At the beginning of that month, Sir Arthur Wellesley
with a British force of 12,300 men landed at the mouth of the River
Mondego, and, aided by Portuguese irregulars, began his march on
Lisbon. This is not the place for a review of the character and career
of our great warrior: in truth, a volume would be too short for the
task. With fine poetic insight, Lord Tennyson has noted in his funeral
Ode the qualities that enabled him to overcome the unexampled
difficulties caused by our own incompetent Government and by jealous,
exacting, and slipshod allies:

  "Mourn for the man of long-enduring blood,
  The statesman-warrior, moderate, resolute,
  Whole in himself, a common good."


Glory and vexation were soon to be his. On the 17th he drove the
French vanguard from Roliça; and when, four days later, Junot hurried
up with all his force, the British inflicted on that presumptuous
leader a signal defeat at Vimiero. So bad were Junot's tactics that
his whole force would have been cut off from Torres Vedras, had not
Wellesley's senior officer, Sir Harry Burrard, arrived just in time to
take over the command and stop the pursuit. Thereupon Wellesley
sarcastically exclaimed to his staff: "Gentlemen, nothing now remains
to us but to go and shoot red-legged partridges." The peculiarities of
our war administration were further seen in the supersession of
Burrard by Sir Hew Dalrymple, whose chief title to fame is his signing
of the Convention of Cintra.

By this strange compact the whole of Junot's force was to be conveyed
from Portugal to France on British ships, while the Russian squadron
blockaded in the Tagus was to be held by us in pledge till the peace,
the crews being sent on to Russia. The convention itself was violently
attacked by the English public; but it has found a defender in Napier,
who dwells on the advantages of getting the French at once out of
Portugal, and thus providing a sure base for the operations in Spain.
Seeing, however, that Junot's men were demoralized by defeat, and that
the nearest succouring force was in Navarre, these excuses seem
scarcely tenable, except on the ground that, with such commanders as
Burrard and Dalrymple, it was certainly desirable to get the French
speedily away.

On his side, Napoleon showed much annoyance at Junot's acceptance of
this convention, and remarked: "I was about to send Junot to a council
of war: but happily the English got the start of me by sending their
generals to one, and thus saved me from the pain of punishing an old
friend." With his customary severity to those who had failed, he
frowned on all the officers of the Army of Portugal, and, on landing
in France, they were strictly forbidden to come to Paris. The fate of
Dupont and of his chief lieutenants, who were released by the
Spaniards, was even harder: on their return they were condemned to
imprisonment. By such means did Napoleon exact the uttermost from his
troops, even in a service so detested as that in Spain ever was.[194]

Despite the blunderings of our War Office, the silly vapourings of the
Spaniards, and the insane quarrels of their provincial juntas about
precedence and the sharing of English subsidies, the summer of 1808
saw Napoleon's power stagger under terrible blows. Not only did he
lose Spain and Portugal and the subsidies which they had meekly paid,
but most of the 15,000 Spanish troops which had served him on the
shores of the Baltic found means to slip away on British ships and put
a backbone into the patriotic movements in the north of Spain. But
worst of all was the loss of that moral strength, which he himself
reckoned as three-fourths of the whole force in war. Hitherto he had
always been able to marshal the popular impulse on his side. As the
heir to the Revolution he had appealed, and not in vain, to the
democratic forces which he had hypnotized in France but sought to stir
up in his favour abroad. Despite the efforts of Czartoryski and Stein
to tear the democratic mask from his face, it imposed on mankind until
the Spanish Revolution laid bare the truth; and at St. Helena the
exile gave his own verdict on the policy of Bayonne: "It was the
Spanish ulcer which ruined me."


    NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--For a careful account of the
    Convention of Cintra in its military and political aspects, see
    Mr. Oman's recently published "History of the Peninsular War,"
    vol. i., pp. 268-278, 291-300. I cannot, however, agree with the
    learned author that that Convention was justifiable on military
    grounds, after so decisive a victory as Vimiero.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXIX

ERFURT

    "At bottom the great question is--who shall have
    Constantinople?"--NAPOLEON, May 31st, 1808.


The Spanish Rising made an immense rent in Napoleon's plans. It opened
valuable markets for British goods both in the Peninsula and in South
and Central America, and that too at the very time when the
Continental System was about to enfold us in its deadly grip.[195] And
finally it disarranged schemes that reached far beyond Europe. To
these we must now briefly recur.

Even amidst his greatest military triumphs Napoleon's gaze turned
longingly towards the East; and no sooner did he force peace on the
conquered than his thoughts centred once more on his navy and
colonies, on Egypt and India. The Treaty of Tilsit gave him leisure to
renew these designs. The publication in 1807 of his official Atlas of
Australia, in which he claimed nearly half that continent for France,
proves that he never accepted Trafalgar as a death-blow to his
maritime and colonial aspirations. And the ardour of his desire for
the conquest of India is seen in the letter which he wrote to the Czar
on February 2nd, 1808. After expressing his desire for the glory and
expansion of Russia, and advising the Czar to conquer Finland, he
proceeds:

    "An army of 50,000 men, Russians, French, and perhaps a few
    Austrians, that penetrated by way of Constantinople into Asia,
    would not reach the Euphrates before England would tremble and bow
    the knee before the Continent. I am ready in Dalmatia. Your
    Majesty is ready on the Danube. A month after we came to an
    agreement the army could be on the Bosphorus.... By the 1st of May
    our troops can be in Asia, and at the same time those of Your
    Majesty, at Stockholm. Then the English, threatened in the Indies,
    and chased from the Levant, will be crushed under the weight of
    events with which the atmosphere will be charged."[196]

There were several reasons why Napoleon should urge on this scheme. He
was irritated by the continued resistance of Great Britain, and
thought to terrify us into surrender by means of those oriental
enterprises which convinced our statesmen that we must fight on for
dear life. He also desired to restore the harmony of his relations
with Alexander. For, in truth, the rapturous harmonies of Tilsit had
soon been marred by discord. Alexander did not withdraw his troops
from the Danubian provinces; whereupon Napoleon declined to evacuate
Silesia; and the friction resulting from this wary balancing of
interests was increased, when, at the close of 1807, a formal proposal
was sent from Paris that, if Russia retained those provinces, Silesia
should be at the disposal of France.[197] The dazzling vistas opened
up to Alexander's gaze at Tilsit were thus shrouded by a sordid and
distasteful bargain, which he hotly repelled. To repair this false
step, Napoleon now wrote the alluring letter quoted above; and the
Czar exclaimed on perusing it: "Ah, this is the language of Tilsit."

Yet, it may be questioned whether Napoleon desired to press on an
immediate partition of the Ottoman Power. His letter invited the Czar
to two great enterprises, the conquest of Finland and the invasion of
Persia and India. The former by itself was destined to tax Russia's
strength. Despite Alexander's offer of a perpetual guarantee for the
Finnish constitution and customs, that interesting people opposed a
stubborn resistance. Napoleon must also have known that Russia's
forces were then wholly unequal to the invasion of India; and his
invitation to Alexander to engage in two serious enterprises certainly
had the effect of postponing the partition of Turkey. Delay was all in
his favour, if he was to gain the lion's share of the spoils. Russian
troops were ready on the banks of the Danube; but he was not as yet
fully prepared. His hold on Dalmatia, Ragusa, and Corfu was not wholly
assured. Sicily and Malta still defied him; and not until he seized
Sicily could he gain the control of the Mediterranean--"the constant
aim of my policy." Only when that great sea had become a French lake
could he hope to plant himself firmly in Albania, Thessaly, Greece,
Crete, Egypt, and Syria.

For the present, then, the Czar was beguiled with the prospect of an
eastern expedition; and, while Russian troops were overrunning
Finland, Napoleon sought to conquer Sicily and reduce Spain to the
rank of a feudatory State. From this wider point of view, he looked on
the Iberian Peninsula merely as a serviceable base for a greater
enterprise, the conquest of the East. This is proved by a letter that
he wrote to Decrès, Minister of Marine and of the Colonies, from
Bayonne on May 17th, 1808, when the Spanish affair seemed settled:
"There is not much news from India. England is in great penury there,
and the arrival of an expedition [from France] would ruin that colony
from top to bottom. The more I reflect on this step, the less
inconvenience I see in taking it." Two days later he wrote to Murat
that money must be found for naval preparations at the Spanish ports:
"I must have ships, for I intend striking a heavy blow towards the end
of the season." But at the close of June he warned Decrès that as
Spanish affairs were going badly, he must postpone his design of
despatching a fleet far from European waters.[198]

Spain having proved to be, not a meek purveyor of fleets, but a
devourer of French armies, there was the more need of a close accord
with the Czar. Napoleon desired, not only to assure a further
postponement of the Turkish enterprise, but also to hold Austria and
Germany in check. The former Power, seeing Napoleon in difficulties,
pushed on apace her military organization; and Germany heaved with
suppressed excitement at the news of the Spanish Rising. The dormant
instinct of German nationality had already shown signs of awakening.
In the early days of 1808 the once cosmopolitan philosopher, Fichte,
delivered at Berlin within sound of the French drums his "Addresses to
the German Nation," in which he dwelt on the unquenchable strength of
a people that determined at all costs to live free.

On the philosopher's theme the Spaniards now furnished a commentary
written with their life-blood. Thinkers and soldiers were alike moved
by the stories of Baylen and Saragossa. Varnhagen von Ense relates how
deep was the excitement of the quaint sage, Jean Paul Richter, who
"doubted not that the Germans would one day rise against the French as
the Spaniards had done, and that Prussia would revenge its insults and
give freedom to Germany.... I proved to him how hollow and weak was
Napoleon's power: how deeply rooted was the opposition to it. The
Spaniards were the refrain to everything, and we always returned to
them."

The beginnings of a new civic life were then being laid in Prussia by
Stein. Called by the King to be virtually a civic dictator, this great
statesman carried out the most drastic reforms. In October, 1807,
there appeared at Memel the decrees of emancipation which declared the
abolition of serfdom with all its compulsory and menial services. The
old feudal society was further invigorated by the admission of all
classes to the holding of land or to any employment, while trade
monopolies were similarly swept away. Municipal self-government gave
new zest and energy to civic life; and the principle that the army
"ought to be the union of all the moral and physical energies of the
nation" was carried out by the military organizer Scharnhorst, who
conceived and partly realized the idea that all able-bodied men should
serve their time with the colours and then be drafted into a reserve.
This military reform excited Napoleon's distrust, and he forced the
King to agree by treaty (September, 1808) that the Prussian army
should never exceed 42,000 men, a measure which did not hinder the
formation of an effective reserve, and was therefore complied with to
the letter, if not in spirit.

In fact, in the previous month a plan of a popular insurrection had
been secretly discussed by Stein, Scharnhorst, and other patriotic
Ministers. The example of the Spaniards was everywhere to be followed,
and, if Austria sent forth her legions on the Danube and England
helped in Hanover, there seemed some prospect of shaking off the
Napoleonic yoke. The scheme miscarried, and largely owing to the
interception of a letter in which Stein imprudently referred to the
exasperation of public feeling in Germany and the lively hope excited
by the events in Spain and the preparations of Austria. Napoleon
caused the letter to be printed in the "Moniteur" of September 8th,
and sequestered Stein's property in Westphalia. He also kept his grip
on Prussia; for while withdrawing most of his troops from that
exhausted land, he retained French garrisons in Stettin, Glogau, and
Küstrin. Holding these fortresses on the strong defensive line of the
Oder, he might smile at the puny efforts of Prussian patriots and hope
speedily to crush the Spanish rebels, provided he could count on the
loyal support of Alexander in holding Austria in check.

To gain this support and to clear away the clouds that bulked on their
oriental horizon, Napoleon urgently desired an interview with his
ally. For some months it had been proposed; but the Spanish Rising and
the armaments of Austria made it essential.

The meeting took place at Erfurt (September 27th). The Thuringian city
was ablaze with uniforms, and the cannon thundered salvoes of welcome
as the two potentates and their suites entered the ancient walls and
filed through narrow streets redolent of old German calm, an abode
more suited to the speculations of a Luther than to the
world-embracing schemes of the Emperors of the West and East. With
them were their chief warriors and Ministers, personages who now threw
into the shade the new German kings. There, too, were the lesser
German princes, some of them to grace the Court of the man who had
showered lands and titles on them, others to hint a wish for more
lands and higher titles. In truth, the title of king was tantalizingly
common; and if we may credit a story of the time, the French soldiery
had learnt to despise it. For, on one occasion, when the guard of
honour, deceived by the splendour of the King of Würtemberg's chariot,
was about to deliver the triple salute accorded only to the two
Emperors, the officer in command angrily exclaimed: "Be quiet: it's
only a king."

The Emperors at Erfurt devoted the mornings to personal interviews,
the afternoons to politics, the evenings to receptions and the
theatre. The actors of the Comédie Française had been brought from
Paris, and played to the Emperors and a parterre of princes the
masterpieces of the French stage, especially those which contained
suitable allusions. A notable incident occurred on the recital of the
line in the "Oedipe" of Voltaire:

  "L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux."

As if moved by a sudden inspiration, Alexander arose and warmly
pressed the hand of Napoleon, who was then half-dozing at his
side.[199] On the surface, indeed, everything was friendship and
harmony. With urbane facility, the Czar accompanied his ally to the
battlefield of Jena, listened to the animated description of the
victor, and then joined in the chase in a forest hard by.

But beneath these brilliant shows there lurked suspicions and fears.
Alexander was annoyed that Napoleon retained French garrisons in the
fortresses on the Oder and claimed an impossible sum as indemnity from
Prussia. This was not the restoration of Prussia's independence, for
which he, Alexander, had pleaded; and while the French eagles were at
Küstrin, the Russian frontier could not be deemed wholly safe.[200]
Then again the Czar had been secretly warned by Talleyrand against
complaisance to the French Emperor. "Sire, what are you coming here
for? It is for you to save Europe, and you will only succeed in that
by resisting Napoleon. The French are civilized, their sovereign is
not. The sovereign of Russia is civilized, her people are not.
Therefore the sovereign of Russia must be the ally of the French
people."[201] We may doubt whether this symmetrical proposition would
have had much effect, if Alexander had not received similar warnings
from his own ambassador at Paris; and it would seem that too much
importance has been assigned to what is termed Talleyrand's
_treachery_ at Erfurt.[202] Affairs of high policy are determined, not
so much by the logic of words as by the sterner logic of facts. Ever
since Tilsit, Napoleon had been prodigal of promises to his ally, but
of little else. The alluring visions set forth in his letter of
February 2nd were as visionary as ever; and Romantzoff expressed the
wish of his countrymen in his remark to Champagny: "We have come to
Erfurt to set a limit to this conduct." It was evident that if
Napoleon had his way completely, the partition of Turkey would take
place at the time and in the manner desired by him; this the Czar was
determined to prevent, and therefore turned a deaf ear to his ally's
proposal that they should summon Austria to explain her present
ambiguous behaviour and frankly to recognize Joseph Bonaparte as King
of Spain. If Austria put a stop to her present armaments, the
supremacy of Napoleon in Central Europe would be alarmingly great.
Clearly it was not to Russia's interest to weaken the only
buffer-state that remained between her and the Empire of the West.

These fears were quietly fed by a special envoy of the Court of
Vienna, Baron Vincent, who brought complimentary notes to the two
Emperors and remained to feel the pulse of European policy. It boded
peace for Austria for the present. Despite Napoleon's eager arguments
that England would never make peace until Austria accepted the present
situation in Spain, Alexander quietly but firmly refused to take any
steps to depress the Hapsburg Power. The discussions waxed warm; for
Napoleon saw that, unless the Court of Vienna were coerced, England
would persist in aiding the Spanish patriots; and Alexander showed an
unexpected obstinacy. Napoleon's plea, that peace could only be
assured by the entire discouragement of England, Austria, and the
Spanish "rebels," had no effect on him: in fact, he began to question
the sincerity of a peacemaker whose methods were war and intimidation.
Finding arguments useless, Napoleon had recourse to anger. At the end
of a lively discussion, he threw his cap on the ground and stamped on
it. Alexander stopped, looked at him with a meaning smile, and said
quietly: "You are violent: as for me, I am obstinate: anger gains
nothing from me: let us talk, let us reason, or I go." He moved
towards the door, whereupon Napoleon called him back--and they
reasoned.

It was of no avail. Though Alexander left his ally a free hand in
Spain, he refused to join him in a diplomatic menace to Austria; and
Napoleon saw that "those devilish Spanish affairs" were at the root of
this important failure, which was to cost him the war on the Danube in
the following year.

As a set-off to this check, he disappointed Alexander respecting
Prussia and Turkey. He refused to withdraw his troops from the
fortresses on the Oder, and grudgingly consented to lower his
pecuniary claims on Prussia from 140,000,000 francs to 120,000,000.
Towards the Czar's Turkish schemes he showed little more complaisance.
After sharp discussions it was finally settled that Russia should gain
the Danubian provinces, but not until the following year. France
renounced all mediation between Alexander and the Porte, but required
him to maintain the integrity of all the other Turkish possessions,
which meant that the partition of Turkey was to be postponed until it
suited Napoleon to take up his oriental schemes in earnest. The golden
visions of Tilsit were thus once more relegated to a distant future,
and the keenness of the Czar's disappointment may be measured by his
striking statement quoted by Caulaincourt in one of his earlier
reports from St. Petersburg: "Let the world be turned upside down
provided that Russia gains Constantinople and the Dardanelles."[203]

The Erfurt interview left another hidden sore. It was there that the
divorce from Josephine was officially discussed, with a view to a more
ambitious alliance. Persistent as the rumours of a divorce had been
for seven years past, they seem to have emanated, not from the
husband, but from jealous sisters-in-law, intriguing relatives, and
officious Ministers. To the most meddlesome of these satellites,
Fouché, who had ventured to suggest to Josephine the propriety of
sacrificing herself for the good of the State, Napoleon had lately
administered a severe rebuke. But now he caused Talleyrand and
Caulaincourt to sound the Czar as to the feasibility of an alliance
with one of his sisters. The response was equally vague and discreet.
Alexander expressed his gratification at the friendship which
proffered such a request and his desire for the founding of a
Napoleonic House. Further than this he did not go: and eight days
after his return to St. Petersburg his only marriageable sister,
Catherine, was affianced to the heir to the Duchy of Oldenburg. This
event, it is true, was decided by the Dowager Empress; but no one,
least of all Napoleon, could harbour any doubts as to its
significance.

In truth, Napoleon's chief triumphs at Erfurt were social and
literary. His efforts to dazzle German princes and denationalize two
of her leading thinkers were partly successful. Goethe and Wieland
bowed before his greatness. To the former Napoleon granted a lengthy
interview. He flattered the aged poet at the outset by the words, "You
are a man": he then talked about several works in a way that Goethe
thought very just; and he criticised one passage of the poet's
youthful work, "Werther," as untrue to nature, with which Goethe
agreed. On Voltaire's "Mahomet" he heaped censure, for its unworthy
portraiture of the conqueror of the East and its ineffective fatalism.
"These pieces belong to an obscure age. Besides, what do they mean
with their fatalism? Politics is fatalism." The significance of this
saying was soon to be emphasized, so that misapprehension was
impossible. After witnessing Voltaire's "La Mort de César," Napoleon
suggested that the poet ought to write a tragedy in a grander style
than Voltaire's, so as to show how the world would have benefited if
the great Roman had had time to carry out his vast plans.

Finally, Goethe was invited to come to Paris, where he would find
abundant materials for his poetic creations. Fortunately, Goethe was
able to plead his age in excuse; and the world was therefore spared
the sight of a great genius saddled with an imperial commission and
writing a Napoleonized version of Cæsar's exploits and policy. But the
pressing character of the invitation reveals the Emperor's
dissatisfaction with his French poetasters and his intention to
denationalize German literature. He had a dim perception that Teutonic
idealism was a dangerous foe, inasmuch as it kept alive the sense of
nationality which he was determined to obliterate. He was right. The
last and most patriotic of Schiller's works, "Wilhelm Tell," the
impassioned discourses of Fichte, the efforts of the new patriotic
league, the Tugendbund, and last, but not least, the memory of the
murdered Palm, all these were influences that baffled bayonets and
diplomacy. Conquer and bargain as he might, he could not grapple with
the impalpable forces of the era that was now dawning. The younger
generation throbbed responsive to the teachings of Fichte, the appeals
of Stein, and the exploits of the Spaniards; it was blind to the
splendours of Erfurt: and it heard with grief, but with no change of
conviction, that Goethe and Wieland had accepted from Napoleon the
cross of the Legion of Honour, and that too on the anniversary of the
Battle of Jena.

After thus finally belittling the two poets, he shot a parting shaft
at German idealism in his farewell to the academicians. He bade them
beware of idealogues as dangerous dreamers and disguised materialists.
Then, raising his voice, he exclaimed: "Philosophers plague themselves
with weaving systems: they will never find a better one than
Christianity, which, reconciling man with himself, also assures public
order and repose. Your idealogues destroy every illusion; and the time
of illusions is for peoples and individuals alike the time of
happiness. I carry one away, that you will think kindly of me." He
then mounted his carriage and drove away to Paris to resume his
conquest of Spain.[204]

The last diplomatic proceeding at Erfurt was the drawing up of a
secret convention which assigned Finland and the Danubian Provinces to
Russia, and promised Russia's help to Napoleon in case Austria should
attack him. The Czar also recognized Joseph Bonaparte as King of Spain
and joined Napoleon in a joint note to George III. summoning him to
make peace. On the same day (October 12th) that note was drawn up and
despatched to London. In reply, Canning stated our willingness to
treat for peace, provided that it should include all parties: that,
although bound by no formal treaty to Ferdinand VII. and the Spanish
people, yet we felt ourselves none the less pledged to them, and
presumed that they, as well as our other allies, would be admitted to
the negotiations. Long before this reply reached Paris, Napoleon had
left for Spain. But on November 19th, he charged Champagny to state
that the Spanish rebels could no more be admitted than the Irish
insurgents: as for the other parties to the dispute he would not
refuse to admit "either the King reigning in Sweden, or the King
reigning in Sicily, or the King reigning in Brazil." This insulting
reply sufficiently shows the insincerity of his overtures and the
peculiarity of his views of monarchy. The Spaniards were rebels
because they refused to recognize the forced abdication of their young
King; and the rulers of Sweden, Naples and Portugal, were Kings as
long as it suited Napoleon to tolerate them, and no longer. It is
needless to add that our Government refused to desert the Spaniards;
and in his reply to St. Petersburg, Canning expressed George III.'s
deep regret that Alexander should sanction

    "An usurpation unparalleled in the history of the world.... If
    these be the principles to which the Emperor of Russia has
    inviolably attached himself ... deeply does His Majesty [George
    III.] lament a determination by which the sufferings of Europe
    must be aggravated and prolonged. But not to His Majesty is to be
    attributed the continuance of the calamities of war, by the
    disappointment of all hope of such a peace as would be compatible
    with justice and honour."[205]

No open-minded person can peruse the correspondence on this subject
without concluding that British policy, if lacking the breadth, grip
and _finesse_ that marked that of France and Russia, yet possessed the
sterling merits of manly truthfulness and staunch fidelity. The words
quoted above were the words of Canning, but the spirit that animated
them was that of George III. His storm-tossed life was now verging
towards the dread bourne of insanity; but it was given to him to make
this stern yet half-pleading appeal to the Czar's better nature. And
who shall say that the example of constancy which the aged King
displayed amidst the gathering gloom of his public and private life
did not ultimately bear fruit in the later and grander phase of
Alexander's character and career?

Meanwhile Napoleon was bursting through the Spanish defence. The
patriots, puffed up with their first successes, had been indulging in
dreams of an invasion of France; and their provincial juntas
quarrelled over the sharing of the future spoils as over the
apportionment of English arms and money. Their awakening was terrible.
With less than 90,000 raw troops they were attacked by 250,000 men led
by the greatest warrior of the age. Everywhere they were routed, and
at a last fight at the pass over the Somosierra mountain, the
superiority of the French was strikingly shown. While the Spaniards
were pouring down grapeshot on the struggling masses of the
assailants, the Emperor resolved to hurl his light Polish horse uphill
at the death-dealing guns. Dashingly was the order obeyed. Some forty
or fifty riders bit the dust, but the rest swept on, sabred the
gunners, and decided the day. The Spaniards, amazed at these
unheard-of tactics, took to their heels, and nothing now stayed
Napoleon's entry into Madrid (December 4th). There he strove to
popularize Joseph's rule by offering several desirable reforms, such
as the abolition of feudal laws and of the Inquisition. It was of no
avail. The Spaniards would have none of them at his hands.

After a brief stay in Madrid, he turned to crush Sir John Moore. That
brave soldier, relying on the empty promises of the patriots, had
ventured into the heart of Leon with a British force of 26,000 men. If
he could not save Madrid, he could at least postpone a French conquest
of the south. In this he succeeded; his chivalrous daring drew on him
the chief strength of the invaders; and when hopelessly outnumbered he
beat a lion-like retreat to Corunna. There he turned and dealt the
French a blow that closed his own career with glory and gained time
for his men to embark in safety.

While the red-coats saw the snowy heights of Galicia fade into the
sky, Napoleon was spurring back to the Pyrenees. He had received news
that portended war with Austria; and, cherishing the strange belief
that Spain was conquered, he rushed back to Paris to confront the
Hapsburg Power. But Spain was not conquered. Scattered her armies were
in the open, and even brave Saragossa fell in glorious ruins under
Lannes' persistent attacks. But the patriots fiercely rallied in the
mountains, and Napoleon was to find out the truth of the Roman
historian's saying: "In no land does the character of the people and
the nature of the country help to repair disasters more readily than
in Spain."

There was another reason for Napoleon's sudden return. Rumours had
reached him as to the _rapprochement_ of those usually envious rivals,
Talleyrand and Fouché, who now walked arm in arm, held secret
conclaves, and seemed to have some understanding with Murat. Were they
plotting to bring this ambitious man and his still more ambitious and
vindictive consort from the despised throne at Naples to seize on
power at Paris while the Emperor was engulfed in the Spanish quagmire?
A story ran that Fouché had relays of horses ready between Naples and
Paris for this enterprise.[206] But where Fouché and Talleyrand are
concerned, truth lurks at the bottom of an unfathomable well.

All that we know for certain is that Napoleon flew back to Paris in a
towering rage, and that, after sharply rebuking Fouché, he subjected
the Prince of Benevento to a violent tirade: just as he (Talleyrand)
had first advised the death of the Duc d'Enghien and then turned that
event to his sovereign's discredit, so now, after counselling the
overthrow of the Spanish dynasty, he was making the same underhand use
of the miscarriage of that enterprise. The Grand Chamberlain stood as
if unmoved until the storm swept by, and then coldly remarked to the
astonished circle: "What a pity that so great a man has been so badly
brought up." Nevertheless, the insult rankled deep in his being, there
to be nursed for five years, and then in the fullness of time to dart
forth with a snake-like revenge. In 1814 and 1815 men saw that not the
least serious result of Napoleon's Spanish policy was the envenoming
of his relations with the two cleverest of living Frenchmen.


NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--In the foregoing narrative, describing the
battle of the Somosierra, I followed the usually accepted account,
which assigns the victory solely to the credit of the Polish horsemen.
But Mr. Oman has shown ("History of the Peninsular War," vol. i., pp.
459-461) that their first charge failed, and that only when a brigade
of French infantry skirmished right up to the crest, did a second
effort of the Poles, supported by cavalry of the Guard, secure the
pass. Napier's description (vol. i., p. 267), based on the French
bulletin, is incorrect.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXX

NAPOLEON AND AUSTRIA


"Never maltreat an enemy by halves": such was the sage advice of
Prussia's warrior King Frederick the Great, who instinctively saw the
folly of half measures in dealing with a formidable foe. The only
statesmanlike alternatives were, to win his friendship by generous
treatment, or to crush him to the earth so that he could not rise to
deal another blow.

As we have seen, Napoleon deliberately took the perilous middle course
with the Hapsburgs after Austerlitz. He tore away from them their
faithful Tyrolese along with all their Swabian lands, and he half
crippled them in Italy by leaving them the line of the Adige instead
of the Mincio. Later on, he compelled Austria to join the Continental
System, to the detriment of her commerce and revenue; and his thinly
veiled threats at Erfurt nerved her to strike home as soon as she saw
him embarked on the Spanish enterprise. She had some grounds for
confidence. The blows showered on the Hapsburg States had served to
weld them more closely together; reforms effected in the
administration under the guidance of the able and high-spirited
minister, Stadion, promised to reinvigorate the whole Empire; and army
reforms, championed by the Archduke Charles, had shelved the petted
incapables of the Court and opened up undreamt-of vistas of hope even
to the common soldier. Moreover, it was certain that the Tyrolese
would revolt against the cast-iron Liberalism now imposed on them from
Munich, which interfered with their cherished customs and church
festivals.

Throughout Germany, too, there were widespread movements for casting
off the yoke of Napoleon. The benefits gained by the adoption of his
laws were already balanced by the deepening hardships entailed by the
Continental System; and the national German sentiment, which Napoleon
ever sought to root out, persistently clung to Berlin and Vienna. A
new thrill of resentment ran through Germany when Napoleon launched a
decree of proscription against Stein, who had resigned office on
November 24th. It was dated from Madrid (December 16th, 1808), and
ordered that "the man named Stein," for seeking to excite troubles in
Germany, should be held an enemy of France and the Confederation of
the Rhine, and suffer confiscation of his property and seizure of his
person, wherever he might be. The great statesman thereupon fled into
Austria, where all the hopes of German nationalists now centred.[207]

On April the 6th the Archduke Charles issued a proclamation in which
the new hopes of reformed Austria found eloquent expression: "The
freedom of Europe has sought refuge beneath your banners. Soldiers,
your victories will break her chains: your German brothers who are now
in the ranks of the enemy wait for their deliverance." These hopes
were premature. Austria was too late or too soon: she was too late to
overpower the Bavarians, or to catch the French forces leaderless, and
too soon to gain the full benefit from her recent army reforms and
from the diversion promised by England on the North Sea.[208] But our
limits of space render it impossible adequately to describe the course
of the struggle on the Danube or of the Tyrolese rising.

Napoleon, hurrying from Paris, found his forces spread out over a
front of sixty miles from Ratisbon to positions south of Augsburg, and
it needed all his skill to mass them before the Archduke's blows fell.
Thanks to Austrian slowness the danger was averted, and a difficult
retrograde movement was speedily changed into a triumphant offensive.
Five successive days saw as many French victories, the chief of which,
at Eckmühl (April 22nd), forced the Archduke with the Austrian right
wing northwards towards Ratisbon, which was stormed on the following
day, Charles now made for the Böhmer Wald, while his left wing on the
south of the Danube fell back towards the Inn. Pushing his advantage
to the utmost, the victor invaded Austria and forced Vienna to
surrender (May 13th).

At that city Napoleon issued (May 17th) a decree which reveals the
excess of his confidence. It struck down the temporal power of the
Pope, and annexed to the French Empire the part of the Papal States
which he had spared the year before. The form of the decree was as
remarkable as its substance. With an effrontery only equalled by its
historical falsity, it cited the example of "Charlemagne, my august
predecessor, Emperor of the French"; and, after exalting the Imperial
dignity, it proceeded to lower the Popes to the position of Bishops of
Rome. The subordination of the spiritual to the civil power was also
assured by the assigning of a yearly stipend of 2,000,000 francs to
the Pope.

When Pius VII. protested against the seizure of his States, and hurled
a bull of excommunication at the spoliator, Napoleon issued orders
which led to his arrest; and shortly after midsummer the unfortunate
pontiff was hurried away from Rome to Florence.

Meanwhile Napoleon had experienced an unlooked-for reverse. Though so
far cowed by his defeats in Bavaria as to send Napoleon a cringing
request for peace, to which the victor deigned no reply, the Archduke
Charles obstinately clung to the northern bank of the Danube opposite
the capital, and inflicted a severe defeat on the Emperor when the
latter sought to drive him from Aspern-Essling (May 21st-22nd). Had
the Austrian commander had that remorseless resolve which ever
prompted Napoleon to wrest from Fortune her utmost favours, the
white-coats might have driven their foes into the river; for at the
close of both of those days of carnage they had a clear advantage. A
French disaster was in fact averted only by the combined efforts of
Napoleon, Masséna, Lannes, and General Mouton; and even they were for
a time dismayed by the frightful losses, and by the news that the
bridges, over which alone they could retire, had been swept away by
trees and barges sent down the flooded stream. But, as at Eylau,
Napoleon's iron will imposed on his foes, and, under cover of
darkness, the French were withdrawn into the island of Lobau, after
losing some 25,000 men.[209]

Among them was that prince of vanguard leaders, Lannes. On hearing
that his old friend was mortally wounded, the Emperor hurried to him,
and tenderly embraced him. The interview, says Marbot, who was
supporting the Marshal's shoulders, was most affecting, both these
stern warriors displaying genuine emotion. And yet, it is reported
that, after Lannes was removed to Ebersdorf, his last words were those
of reproach to the Emperor for his ambition. At that time, however,
the patient was delirious, and the words, if really uttered, were
meaningless; but the inventor of the anecdote might plead that it was
consonant with the recent tenor of the Marshal's thoughts. Like all
thoughtful soldiers, who placed France before Napoleon, Lannes was
weary of these endless wars. After Jena his heart was not in the work;
and he wrote thus about Napoleon during the siege of Danzig: "I have
always been the victim of my attachment to him. He only loves you by
fits and starts, that is, when he has need of you." His presentiment
was true. He was a victim to a war that was the outcome solely of
Napoleon's Continental System, and not of the needs of France. He
passed away, leaving a brilliant military fame and a reputation for
soldierly republican frankness which was fast vanishing from the camps
and _salons_ of the Empire.[210]

As yet, however, Napoleon's genius and the martial ardour of his
soldiers sufficed to overbear the halting efforts of Austria and her
well-wishers. On retiring into Lobau Island he put forth to the utmost
his extraordinary powers of organization. Boats brought vast supplies
of stores and ammunition from Vienna, which the French still held. The
menacing front of Masséna and Davoust imposed on the enemy.
Reinforcements were hurried up from Bavaria. Tyrol was denuded of
Franco-Bavarian troops, so that the peasants, under the lead of the
brave innkeeper, Hofer, were able to organize a systematic defence.
And a French army which had finally beaten the Austrians in Venetia,
now began to drive them back into Hungary. In Poland the white-coats
were held in check, and the Franco-Russian compact deterred Frederick
William from making any move against France such as Prussian patriots
ardently counselled.

To have done so would have been madness, unless England sent powerful
aid on the side of Hanover; and that aid was not forthcoming. Yet the
patriotic ardour of the Germans led to two daring efforts against the
French. Schill, with a Prussian cavalry regiment, sought to seize
Magdeburg, and failing there moved north in hopes of British help. His
adventurous ride was ended by Napoleon's Dutch and North German
troops, who closed in on him at Stralsund, and, on May 31st, cut to
pieces his brave troop. Schill met a warrior's death: most of the
survivors were sent to the galleys in France. Undeterred by this
failure, the young Duke of Brunswick sought to rouse Saxony and
Westphalia by a dashing cavalry raid (June); but, beyond showing the
weakness of Jerome Bonaparte's rule and the general hatred of the
French, he effected little: with his 2,000 followers he was finally
saved by British cruisers (August). Had the British expedition, which
in the ensuing autumn rotted away on Walcheren, been landed at
Stralsund, or in Hanover during the spring, it is certain that Germany
would have risen in Napoleon's rear; and in that case, the doubtful
struggle which closed at Wagram might have ended very
differently.[211]

All hopes for European independence centred in Wellesley and the
Archduke Charles. Although there was no formal compact between England
and Austria, yet the Hapsburgs rested their hopes largely on the
diversions made by our troops. In the early part of the Peninsular
campaign of 1809, these hopes were brilliantly fulfilled. Wellesley
moved against Soult at Oporto, and, by a dextrous crossing of that
river in his rear, compelled him to beat a calamitous retreat on
Spain, with the loss of all his cannon and stores. The French reached
Lugo an armed rabble, and were greeted there with jeers and
execrations by the men of Ney's corps. The two Marshals themselves
took up the quarrel, and so fierce were the taunts of Ney that Soult
drew his sword and a duel was barely averted.[212] An appearance of
concord was restored during their operations in Galicia and Asturias:
but no opportunity was missed of secretly thwarting the hated rival;
and here, as all through the Peninsular War, the private jealousies of
the French leaders fatally compromised the success of their arms.
Wellesley, seeing that the operations in Galicia would never decide
the war, began to prepare a deadly blow at the centre of French
authority, Madrid.

While Wellesley thrust a thin wedge into the heart of Spain, the
Archduke Charles was overthrown on the banks of the Danube. After
drawing in reinforcements from France, the Rhenish Confederation, and
Eugène's army of Italy, the French Emperor disposed of 180,000
highly-trained troops, whom he massed in the Lobau Island, or on the
right shore of the Danube. Every preparation was made for deceiving
the Austrians as to the point of crossing and with complete success.
With great labour the defenders threw up intrenchments facing the
north side of the island. But, on a thick stormy night (July 4th), six
bridges of boats were quickly swung across the stream lower down, that
is, on the east side of Lobau, while a furious cannonade on the north
side misled their foes. The crossing was effected without loss by
Oudinot and Masséna; and sunrise saw the whole French army advancing
rapidly northwards, thereby outflanking the Austrian earthworks, which
were now evacuated.

Charles was outmanoeuvred and outnumbered. His brother, the Archduke
John, was at Pressburg with 20,000 men, watched hitherto by Davoust.
But the French Marshal cleverly withdrew his corps, leaving only
enough men to impose on that unenterprising leader. Other Austrian
detachments were also far away at the critical time, and thus Napoleon
had a superiority of force of about 50,000 men. Nevertheless, the
defence at Wagram was most obstinate (July 6th). Holding his own on
the hills behind the Russbach, the Archduke swung forward his right in
such strength as to drive back Masséna on Aspern; but his weakened
centre was now pushed back and endangered by the persistent vigour of
Macdonald's onset. This success at the centre gave time for Davoust to
wrest Neusiedel from the white-coats, a movement which would have been
stopped or crushed, had the Archduke John obeyed his brother's orders
and marched from the side of Pressburg on Napoleon's unguarded right
flank. Finally, after an obstinate stand, the Austrians fell back in
good order, effectively covering their retreat by a murderous
artillery fire. A total loss of some 50,000 men, apportioned nearly
equally on either side, was the chief result of this terrible day. It
was not remarkable for brilliant tactics; and, as at Aspern, the
Austrians fully equalled their foes in courage.

[Illustration: WAGRAM]

Such was the battle of Wagram, one of the greatest of all time, if the
number of combatants be counted, but one of the least decisive in its
strictly military results. If we may compare Austerlitz with Blenheim,
Wagram may with equal fitness be matched with the vast slaughter of
Malplaquet exactly a century before. The French now felt the hardening
of the national defence of Austria and the falling off in their own
fighting powers. Marmont tells how, at the close of the day, the
approach of the Archduke John's scouts struck panic into the
conquerors, so that for a time the plain on the east was covered with
runaway conscripts and disconcerted plunderers. The incident proved
the deterioration of the Grand Army from the times of Ulm and Jena.
Raw conscripts raised before their time and hurriedly drafted into the
line had impaired its steadiness, and men noted as another ominous
fact that few unwounded prisoners were taken from the Austrians, and
only nine guns and one colour. In fact, the only reputation enhanced
was that of Macdonald, who for his great services at the centre
enjoyed the unique honour of receiving a Marshal's bâton from Napoleon
on the field of battle.

Had the Archduke Charles been made of the same stuff as Wellington,
the campaign might still have been retrieved. But softness and
irresolution were the characteristics of Austria's generals no less
than of her rulers.[213] The Hapsburg armies were still led with the
old leisurely _insouciance_; and their counsels swayed to and fro
under the wavering impulses of a seemingly decrepit dynasty. Francis
had many good qualities: he was a good husband and father, and his
kindly manners endeared him to the Viennese even in the midst of
defeat. But he was capricious and shortsighted; anything outside of
the well-worn ruts of routine vexed and alarmed him; and it is a
supreme proof of the greatness and courage of his reforming Minister,
Stadion, that his innovations should have been tolerated for so long.
Now that disasters were shaking his throne he began to suspect the
reformer; and Stadion confessed to the publicist, Gentz, that it was
impossible to reckon on the Emperor for a quarter of an hour together,
unless one stayed by him all the twenty-four hours.--"After a great
defeat, he will take himself off at once and will calmly commend us to
God."--This was what now happened. Another failure at Znaim so daunted
the Archduke that he sued for an armistice (July 12th). For this there
was some excuse. The latest news both from Spain and Prussia inspired
the hope that, if time were gained, important diversions might be made
in both quarters.

As we have seen, Sir Arthur Wellesley opened the campaign with a
brilliant success, and then prepared to strike at the heart of the
French power. The memorable campaign of Talavera was the result.
Relying on promises of aid from the Spanish Junta and from their
cross-grained commander, Cuesta, he led a small British force up the
valley of the Tagus to seize Madrid, while the chief French armies
were engaged in distant provinces. In one sense he achieved his aim.
He compelled the enemy to loose their hold on those provinces and
concentrate to save the capital. And before they fully effected their
concentration, he gave battle to King Joseph and Marshals Jourdan and
Victor at Talavera (July 28th). Skilfully posting the Spaniards behind
intrenchments and in gardens where their raw levies could fight with
every advantage, he extended his thin red lines--he had only 17,000
British troops--along a ridge stretching up to a plateau that
dominated the broken ground north of the town. On that hill Wellesley
planted his left: and all the efforts of Victor to turn that wing or
to break it by charges across the intervening ravine were bloodily
beaten off.

The fierce heat served but to kindle French and British to greater
fury. Finally, the dashing charge of our 23rd dragoons and the
irresistible advance of the 48th regiment of foot overthrew the
enemy's centre; and as the day waned, the 30,000 French retired, with
a loss of 17 cannon and of 7,000 men in killed, wounded, and
prisoners. Had the other Spanish armies now offered the support which
Wellesley expected, he would doubtless have seized Madrid. He had
written three days before Talavera: "With or without a battle we shall
be at Madrid soon." But his allies now failed him utterly: they did
not hold the mountain passes which confronted Soult in his march from
Salamanca into the valley of the Tagus; and they left the British
forces half starving.--"We are here worse off than in a hostile
country," wrote our commander; "never was an army so ill used: we had
no assistance from the Spanish army: we were obliged to unload our
ammunition and our treasure in order to employ the cars in the removal
of our sick and wounded." Meanwhile Soult, with 50,000 men, was
threading his way easily through the mountains and threatened to cut
us off from Portugal: but by a rapid retreat Wellesley saved his army,
vowing that he would never again trust Spanish offers of help.[214]

Far more dispiriting was the news that reached the Austrian
negotiators from the North Sea. There the British Government succeeded
in eclipsing all its former achievements in forewarning foes and
disgusting its friends. Very early in the year, the men of Downing
Street knew that Austria was preparing to fight Napoleon and built her
hopes of success, partly on the Peninsular War, partly on a British
descent in Hanover, where everything was ripe for revolution.
Unfortunately, we were still, formally, at war with her: and the
conclusion of the treaty of peace was so long delayed at Vienna that
July was almost gone before the Austrian ratification reached London,
and our armada set sail from Dover.[215] The result is well known.
Official favouritism handed over the command of 40,000 troops to the
Earl of Chatham, who wasted precious days in battering down the walls
of Flushing when he should have struck straight at the goal now aimed
at, Antwerp. That fortress was therefore ready to beat him off; and he
finally withdrew his army into the Isle of Walcheren, into whose
fever-laden swamps Napoleon had refused to send a single French
soldier. A tottering remnant was all that survived by the close of the
year: and the climax of our national disgrace was reached when a
court-martial acquitted the commanders. Napoleon would have had them
shot.

Helpless as the old monarchies were to cope with Napoleon, a wild
longing for vengeance was beginning to throb among the peoples. It
showed itself in a remarkable attempt on his life during a review at
Schönbrunn. A delicate youth named Staps, son of a Thuringian pastor,
made his way to the palace, armed with a long knife, intending to stab
him while he read a petition (October 12th). Berthier and Rapp, noting
the lad's importunity, had him searched and brought before Napoleon.
"What did you mean to do with that knife?" asked the Emperor. "Kill
you," was the reply. "You are an idiot or an Illuminat." "I am not an
idiot and do not know what an Illuminat is." "Then you are diseased."
"No, I am quite well." "Why do you wish to kill me?" "Because you are
the curse of my Fatherland." "You are a fanatic; I will forgive you
and spare your life." "I want no forgiveness." "Would you thank me if
I pardoned you?" "I would seek to kill you again." The quiet firmness
with which Staps gave these replies and then went to his doom made a
deep impression on Napoleon; and he sought to hurry on the conclusion
of peace with these odd Germans whom he could conquer but not
convince.

The Emperor Francis was now resigned to his fate, but he refused to
hear of giving up his remaining sea-coast in Istria. On this point
Metternich strove hard to bend Napoleon's will, but received as a
final answer: "Then war is unavoidable."[216] In fact, the victor knew
that Austria was in his power. The Archduke Charles had thrown up his
command, the soldiery were depressed, and a great part of the Empire
was in the hands of the French. England's efforts had failed; and of
all the isolated patriotic movements in Germany only that of the
Tyrolese mountaineers still struggled on. Napoleon could therefore
dictate his own terms in the Treaty of Schönbrunn (October 14th),
which he announced as complete, when as yet Francis had not signed
it.[217] Austria thereby recognized Joseph as King of Spain, and ceded
Salzburg and the Inn-viertel to Napoleon, to be transferred by him to
Bavaria. To the French Empire she yielded up parts of Austrian Friuli
and Carinthia, besides Carniola, the city and district of Trieste, and
portions of Croatia and Dalmatia to the south of the River Save. Her
spoils of the old Polish lands now went to aggrandize the Duchy of
Warsaw, a small strip of Austrian Gallicia also going to Russia.
Besides losing 3,500,000 subjects, Austria was mulcted in an indemnity
of £3,400,000, and again bound herself to exclude all British
products. By a secret clause she agreed to limit her army to 150,000
men.

Perhaps the severest loss was the abandonment of the faithful
Tyrolese. After Aspern, the Emperor Francis promised that he would
never lay down his arms until they were re-united with his Empire.
This promise now went the way of the many fond hopes of reform and
championship of German nationality which her ablest men had lately
cherished, and the Empire settled down in torpor and bankruptcy. In
dumb wrath and despair Austrian patriots looked on, while the Tyrolese
were beaten down by French, Bavarian, and Italian forces. Hofer
finally took to the hills, was betrayed by a friend, and was taken to
Mantua. Some of the officers who there tried him desired to spare his
life, but a special despatch of Napoleon[218] ordered his execution,
and the brave mountaineer fell, with the words on his lips: "Long live
the Emperor Francis." Tyrol, meanwhile, was parcelled out between
Bavaria, Illyria, and the Kingdom of Italy; but bullets and partitions
were of no avail against the staunch patriotism of her people, and the
Tyrolese campaign boded ill for Napoleon if monarchs, generals, and
statesmen should ever be inspired by the sturdy faith and hardihood of
that noble peasantry.

As yet, however, prudence and timidity reigned supreme. Though the
Czar uttered some snappish words at the threatening increase to the
Duchy of Warsaw, he still posed as Napoleon's ally. The Swedes, weary
of their hopeless strifes with France, Russia, and Denmark, deposed
the still bellicose Gustavus IV.; and his successor, Charles XIII.,
made peace with those Powers, retaining Swedish Pomerania, but only at
the cost of submitting to the Continental System. Prussia seemed, to
official eyes, utterly cowed. The Hapsburgs, having failed in their
bold championship of the cause of reform and of German nationality,
now fell back into a policy marked by timid opportunism and decorously
dull routine.

The change was marked by the retirement of Stadion, a man whose
enterprising character, no less than his enthusiasm for reform, ill
fitted him for the time of compromise and subservience now at hand. He
it was who had urged Austria forward in the paths of progress and had
sought safety in the people: he was the Stein of Austria. But now, on
the eve of peace, he earnestly begged to be allowed to resign the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs; and the Emperor Francis thereupon
summoned to that seemingly thankless office a young diplomatist, who
was destined to play a foremost part in the mighty drama of Napoleon's
overthrow, and thereafter to wield by his astute policy almost as
great an influence in Central and Southern Europe as the autocrat
himself.

Metternich was born at Coblentz in 1773, and was therefore four years
the junior of Napoleon. He came of an old family of the Rhineland, and
his father's position in the service of the old Empire secured him
early entrance into the diplomatic circle. After acting as secretary
to the Imperial delegates at the Congress of Rastatt, he occupied the
post of Austrian ambassador successively at the Courts of Dresden and
Berlin; and in 1806 he was suddenly called to take up the embassy in
Paris. There he displayed charms of courtly tact, and lively and
eloquent conversation, which won Napoleon's admiration and esteem. He
was looked on as a Gallophil; and, like Bismarck at a later crisis, he
used his social gifts and powers of cajolery so as to gain a correct
estimate of the characters of his future opponents.

Yet, besides these faculties of finesse and intrigue--and the Miltonic
Belial never told lies with more winsome grace--Metternich showed at
times a manly composure and firmness, even when Napoleon unmasked a
searching fire of diplomatic questions and taunts. Of this he had
given proof shortly before the outbreak of the late war, and his
conduct had earned the thanks of the other ambassadors for giving the
French Emperor a lesson in manners, while the autocrat liked him none
the less, but rather the more, for standing up to him. But now, after
the war, all was changed; craft was more serviceable than fortitude;
and the gay Rhinelander brought to the irksome task of subservience to
the conqueror a courtly _insouciance_ under which he nursed the hope
of ultimate revenge.--"From the day when peace is signed," he wrote to
the Emperor Francis on August 10th, 1809, "we must confine our system
to tacking and turning, and flattering. Thus alone may we possibly
preserve our existence, till the day of general deliverance."[219]
This was to be the general drift of Austrian policy for the next four
years; and it may be granted that only by bending before the blast
could that sore-stricken monarchy be saved from destruction. An
opportunity soon occurred of carrying the new system into effect.
Metternich offered the conqueror an Austrian Archduchess as a bride.

After the humiliation of the Hapsburgs and of the Spanish patriots,
nothing seemed wanting to Napoleon's triumph but an heir who should
found a durable dynasty. This aim was now to be reached. As soon as
the Emperor returned to Paris, his behaviour towards Josephine showed
a marked reserve. The passage communicating between their private
apartments was closed, and the gleams of triumphant jealousy that
flashed from her sisters-in-law warned Josephine of her approaching
doom. The divorce so long bruited by news-mongers was at hand. The
Emperor broke the tidings to his consort in the private drawing-room
of the Tuileries on November 30th, and strove to tone down the
harshness of his decision by basing it on the imperative needs of the
State. But she spurned the dictates of statecraft. With all her
faults, she was affectionate and tender; she was a woman first and an
Empress afterwards; she now clung to Napoleon, not merely for the
splendour of the destiny which he had opened to her, but also from
genuine love.

Their relations had curiously changed. At the outset she had slighted
his mad devotion by her shallow coldness and occasional infidelities,
until his lava-like passion petrified. Thenceforth it was for her to
woo, and woo in vain. For years past she had to bemoan the waning of
his affection and his many conjugal sins. And now the chasm, which she
thought to have spanned by the religious ceremony on the eve of the
coronation, yawned at her feet. The woman and the Empress in her
shrank back from the black void of the future; and with piteous
reproaches she flung back the orders of the Emperor and the soothings
of the husband. Napoleon, it would seem, had nerved himself against
such an outbreak. In vain did Josephine sink down at his feet with
heart-rending cries that she would never survive the disgrace: failing
to calm her himself, he opened the door and summoned the prefect of
the palace, Bausset, and bade him bear her away to her private
apartments. Down the narrow stairs she was borne, the Emperor lifting
her feet and Bausset supporting her shoulders, until, half fainting,
she was left to the sympathies of her women and the attentions of
Corvisart. But hers was a wound that no sympathy or skill could
cure.[220]

On his side, Napoleon felt the wrench. Not only the ghost of his early
love, but his dislike of new associates and novel ways cried out
against the change. "In separating myself from my wife," Napoleon once
said to Talleyrand, "I renounce much. I should have to study the
tastes and habits of a young woman. Josephine accommodates herself to
everything: she understands me perfectly."[221] But his boundless
triumphs, his alliance with the Czar and total overthrow of the
Bourbons and the Pope, had fed the fires of his ambition. He aspired
to give the _mot d'ordre_ to the universe; and he scrupled not to put
aside a consort who could not help him to found a dynasty. Yet it was
not without pangs of sorrow and remorse. His laboured, panting breath
and almost gasping words left on Bausset the impression that he was
genuinely affected; and, consummate actor though he was, we may well
believe that he felt the parting from his early associations.
Underneath his generally cold exterior he hid a nervous nature,
dominated by an inflexible will, but which now and again broke through
all restraint, bathing the beloved object with sudden tenderness or
blasting a foe with fiery passion. And it would seem that Josephine's
pangs had power to reawaken the feelings of his more generous youth.
The ceremony of divorce took place on December 15th Josephine
declaring with agonized pride that she gave her assent for the welfare
of France.

Already the new marriage negotiations had begun. They are unique even
amidst the frigid annals of royal betrothals. The French ambassador,
Caulaincourt, was charged to make definite overtures at St. Petersburg
for the hand of the Czar's younger sister; the conditions could easily
be arranged; religion need be no difficulty; but time was pressing;
the Emperor had need of an heir; "we are counting the minutes here,"
ran the despatch; and an answer was expected from St. Petersburg after
an interval of _two days_.[222] The request caused Alexander the
greatest perplexity. He parried it with the reply, correct enough in
form as in fact, that the disposal of his sister rested with the
Dowager Empress. But her hostility to Napoleon was well known. After
the half overtures of Erfurt she had at once betrothed her elder
daughter to the Duke of Oldenburg. No similar escape was now possible
for the younger one: but, after leaving Napoleon's request unanswered
until February 4th, the reply was then despatched that the tender age
of the princess, she being only twenty years old, formed an
insuperable obstacle.

Some such answer had long been expected at Paris. Metternich asserts
in his "Memoirs" that Napoleon had caused Laborde, one of his
diplomatic agents at Vienna, tentatively to sound that Court as to his
betrothal with the Archduchess Marie Louise. But the French archives
show that the first hint came from Metternich, who saw in it a means
of weakening the Franco-Russian alliance and saving Austria from
further disasters.[223] A little later the Countess Metternich was at
Paris; and great was her surprise when, on January 2nd, 1810,
Josephine informed her that she favoured a marriage between Napoleon
and Marie Louise. "I spoke to him of it yesterday," she said; "his
choice is not yet fixed; but he thinks that this would be his choice
if he were sure of its being accepted." Thereafter the Countess
received the most flattering attentions at Court, a proof that the
Hapsburg match was now favoured, even though the coyness of the Czar
was as yet unknown.

At the close of January a Privy Council was held at the Tuileries to
decide on the imperial bride. The votes were nearly equal: four voted
for Austria, four for Saxony, and three for Russia. After listening
quietly to the arguments, Napoleon summed up the discussion by
pronouncing firmly and warmly in favour of Austria. The marriage
contract was therefore drawn up on February 7th; and Berthier was
despatched to Vienna to claim the hand of Marie Louise. He entered
that city over the ruins of the old ramparts, which were now being
dismantled in accordance with the French demands.

The marriage took place at Vienna by proxy; the bride was conducted to
Paris; and the final ceremony took place at Notre Dame on April 2nd,
but not until the union had been consummated. Such were Napoleon's
second wooing and wedding. Nevertheless, he showed himself an
attentive and even indulgent spouse, and he remarked at St. Helena
that if Josephine was all grace and charm, Marie Louise was innocence
and nature herself.

The Austrian marriage was an event of the first importance. It gained
a few years' respite for the despairing Hapsburgs, and gave tardy
satisfaction to Talleyrand's statesmanlike scheme of a Franco-Austrian
alliance which should be in the best sense conservative. Had Napoleon
taken this step after Austerlitz in the way that his counsellor
advised, possibly Europe might have reached a condition of stable
equilibrium, always provided that he gave up his favourite scheme of
partitioning Turkey. But that was not to be; and when Austria finally
yielded up Marie Louise as an unpicturesque Iphigenia on the marriage
altar, she did so only as a desperate device for appeasing an
inexorable destiny. And, strange to say, she succeeded. For Alexander
took offence at the marriage negotiations; and thus was opened a
breach in the Franco-Russian alliance which other events were rapidly
to widen, until Western and Central Europe hurled themselves against
the East, and reached Moscow.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXI

THE EMPIRE AT ITS HEIGHT


Napoleon's star had now risen to its zenith. After his marriage with a
daughter of the most ancient of continental dynasties, nothing seemed
lacking to his splendour. He had humbled Pope and Emperor alike:
Germany crouched at his feet: France, Italy, and the Confederation of
the Rhine gratefully acknowledged the benefits of his vigorous sway:
the Czar was still following the lead given at Erfurt: Sweden had
succumbed to the pressure of the two Emperors: and Turkey survived
only because it did not yet suit Napoleon to shear her asunder: he
must first complete the commercial ruin of England and drive
Wellington into the sea. Then events would at last be ripe for the
oriental schemes which the Spanish Rising had postponed.

He might well hope that England's strength was running out: near the
close of 1810 the three per cent consols sank to sixty-five, and the
declared bankruptcies averaged 250 a month. The failure of the
Walcheren expedition had led to terrible loss of men and treasure, and
had clouded over the reputation of her leaders. After mutual
recriminations Canning and Castlereagh resigned office and fought a
duel. Shortly afterwards the Premier, the Duke of Portland, fell ill
and resigned: his place was taken by Mr. Perceval, a man whose sole
recommendation for the post was his conscientious Toryism and powers
of dull plodding. Ruled by an ill-assorted Ministry and a King whose
reason was now hopelessly overclouded, weakened by the strangling grip
of the Continental System, England seemed on the verge of ruin; and,
encouraged alike by the factious conduct of our parliamentary
Opposition and by Soult's recent conquest of Andalusia, Napoleon bent
himself to the final grapple by extending his coast system, and by
sending Masséna and his choicest troops into Spain to drive the
leopards into the sea.

The limits of our space prevent any description of the ensuing
campaign of Torres Vedras; and we must refer our readers to the ample
canvas of Napier if they would realize the sagacity of Wellington in
constructing to the north of Lisbon that mighty _tête de pont_ for the
Sea Power against Masséna's veteran army. After dealing the staggering
blow of Busaco at that presumptuous Marshal, our great leader fell
back, through a tract which he swept bare of supplies, on this sure
bulwark, and there watched the French host of some 65,000 men waste
away amidst the miseries of hunger and the rains and diseases of
autumn. At length, in November, Masséna drew off to positions near
Santarem, where he awaited the succour which Napoleon ordered Soult to
bring. It was in vain: Soult, puffed up by his triumphs in Andalusia,
was resolved to play his own game and reduce Badajoz; he won his point
but marred the campaign; and, at last, foiled by Wellington's skilful
tactics, Masséna beat a retreat northwards out of Portugal after
losing some 35,000 men (March, 1811). Wellington's success bore an
immeasurable harvest of results. The unmanly whinings of the English
Opposition were stilled; the replies of the Czar to Napoleon's demands
grew firmer; and the patriots of the Peninsula stiffened their backs
in a resistance so stubborn, albeit unskilful, that 370,000 French
troops utterly failed to keep Wellington in check, and to stamp out
the national defence in the summer of 1811.

In truth, Napoleon had exasperated the Spaniards no less than their
_soi disant_ king, by a series of provocations extending over the year
1810. On the plea that Spain must herself meet the expenses of the
war, he erected the four northern provinces into commands for French
generals, who were independent of his brother's authority and levied
all the taxes over that vast area (February). On May 29th he withdrew
Burgos and Valladolid from Joseph's control, and divided the greater
part of Spain for military and administrative purposes into districts
that were French satrapies in all but name. The decree was doubly
disastrous: it gave free play to the feuds of the French chiefs; and
it seemed to the Spaniards to foreshadow a speedy partition of Spain.
The surmise was correct. Napoleon intended to unite to France the
lands between the Pyrenees and the Ebro. Indeed, in his conception,
the conquest of Portugal was mainly desirable because it would provide
his brother with an indemnity in the west for the loss of his northern
provinces. Joseph's protests against such a partition of the land,
which Napoleon had sworn at Bayonne to keep intact, were disregarded;
but letters on this subject fell into the hands of the Spanish
guerillas and were published by order of the Regency at Cadiz.
Despised by the Spaniards, flouted by Napoleon, set at defiance by the
French satraps, and reduced wellnigh to bankruptcy, the puppet King
felt his position insupportable, and, hurrying to Paris, tendered his
resignation of the crown (May, 1811). In his anxiety to huddle up the
scandal, Napoleon appeased his brother, promised him one-fourth of the
taxes levied by the French commanders, and coaxed or drove him to
resume his thankless task at Madrid. But the doggedness of the
Emperor's resolve may be measured by the fact that, even when on the
brink of war with Russia, he defied Spanish national sentiment by
annexing Catalonia to France (March, 1812).

It seems strange that Napoleon did not himself proceed to Spain in
order to direct the operations in person and thus still the jealousies
of the Marshals which so hampered his armies. Wellington certainly
feared his coming. At a later date he told Earl Stanhope that Napoleon
was vastly superior to any of his Marshals: "There was nothing like
him. He suited a French army so exactly.... His presence on the field
made a difference of 40,000 men."[224] That estimate is certainly
modest if one looks not merely at tactics but at the strategy of the
whole Peninsular War. But the Emperor did not again come into Spain.
At the outset of 1810 he prepared to do so; but, as soon as the
Austrian marriage was arranged, he abandoned this salutary project.

There were thenceforth several reasons why he should remain in or near
Paris. His attentions to his young wife, and his desire to increase
the splendour of the Court, counted for much. Yet more important was
it to curb the clericals (now incensed at the imprisonment of the
Pope), and sharply to watch the intrigues of the royalists and other
malcontents. Public opinion, also, still needed to be educated; the
constant drain of men for the wars and the increase in the price of
necessaries led to grumblings in the Press, which claimed the presence
of his Argus eye and the adoption of a very stringent censorship.[225]
But, above all, there was the commercial war with England. This could
be directed best from Paris, where he could speedily hear of British
endeavours to force goods into Germany, Holland, or Italy, and of any
change in our maritime code.

Important as was the war in Spain, it was only one phase of his
world-wide struggle with the mistress of the seas; and he judged that
if she bled to death under his Continental System, the Peninsular War
must subside into a guerilla strife, Spain thereafter figuring merely
as a greater Vendée. Accordingly, the year 1810 sees the climax of his
great commercial experiment.

The first land to be sacrificed to this venture was Holland. For many
months the Emperor had been discontented with his brother Louis, who
had taken into his head the strange notion that he reigned there by
divine right. As Napoleon pathetically said at St. Helena, when
reviewing the conduct of his brothers, "If I made one a king, he
imagined that he was _King by the grace of God_. He was no longer my
lieutenant: he was one enemy more for me to watch." A singular fate
for this king-maker, that he should be forgotten and the holy oil
alone remembered! Yet Louis probably used that mediæval notion as a
shield against his brother's dictation. The tough Bonaparte nature
brooked not the idea of mere lieutenancy. He declined to obey orders
from the brother whom he secretly detested. He flatly refused to be
transferred from the Hague to Madrid, or to put in force the
burdensome decrees of the Continental System.

On his side, Napoleon upbraided him with governing too softly, and
with seeking popularity where he should seek control. After the
Walcheren expedition, he chid him severely for allowing the English
fleet ever to show its face in the Scheldt; for "the fleets of that
Power ought to find nothing but rocks of iron" in that river, "which
was as important to France as the Thames to England."[226] But the
head and front of his offending was that British goods still found
their way into Holland. In vain did the Emperor forbid that American
ships which had touched at English ports should be debarred from those
of Holland. In vain did he threaten to close the Scheldt and Rhine to
Dutch barges. Louis held on his way, with kindly patience towards his
merchants, and with a Bonapartist obstinacy proof against fraternal
advice or threats. At last, early in 1810, Napoleon sent troops to
occupy Walcheren and neighbouring Dutch lands. It seemed for a time as
though this was but a device to extort favourable terms of peace from
England in return for an offer that France would not annex Holland.
Negotiations to this effect were set on foot through the medium of
Ouvrard and Labouchere, son-in-law of the banker Baring: Fouché also,
without the knowledge of his master, ventured to put forth a
diplomatic feeler as to a possible Anglo-French alliance against the
United States, an action for which he was soon very properly
disgraced.[227]

The negotiation failed, as it deserved to do. Our objections were, not
merely to the absurd proposal that we should give up our maritime code
if Napoleon would abstain from annexing Holland and the Hanseatic
towns, but still more against the man himself and his whole policy. We
had every reason to distrust the good faith of the man who had
betrayed the Turks at Tilsit, Portugal at Fontainebleau, and the
Spaniards at Bayonne. To pause in the strife, to relax our hold on our
new colonies, and to desert the Spaniards, in order to preserve the
merely titular independence of Holland and the Hanse Towns, would have
been an act of singular simplicity. Nor does Napoleon seem to have
expected it. He wrote to his Foreign Minister, Champagny, on March
20th, 1810: "From not having made peace sooner, England has lost
Naples, Spain, Portugal, and the market of Trieste. If she delays much
longer, she will lose Holland, the Hanse Towns, and Sicily." And
surely this Sibylline conduct of his required that he should annex
these lands and all Europe in order to exact a suitable price from the
exhausted islanders. Such was the corollary of the Continental System.

Meanwhile Louis, nettled by the inquisitions of the French
_douaniers_, and by the order of his brother to seize all American
ships in Dutch ports, was drawing on himself further reproaches and
threats: "Louis, you are incorrigible ... you do not want to reign for
any length of time. States are governed by reason and policy, and not
by acrimony and weakness." Twenty thousand French troops were
approaching Amsterdam to bring him to reason, when the young ruler
decided to be rid of this royal mummery. On the night of July 1st he
fled from Haarlem, and travelled swiftly and secretly eastwards until
he reached Teplitz, in Bohemia. The ignominy of this flight rested on
the brother who had made kingship a mockery. The refugee left behind
him the reputation of a man who, lovable by nature but soured by
domestic discords, sought to shield his subjects from the ruin into
which the rigid application of the Continental System was certain to
plunge them. That fate now befell the unhappy little land. On July 9th
it was annexed to the French Empire, and all the commercial decrees
were carried out as rigidly at Rotterdam as at Havre.

At the close of the year, Napoleon's coast system was extended to the
borders of Holstein by the annexation of Oldenburg, the northern parts
of Berg, Westphalia, and Hanover, along with Lauenburg and the Hanse
Towns, Bremen, Hamburg, and Lübeck. The little Swiss Republic of
Valais was also absorbed in the Empire.

This change in North Germany, which carried the French flag to the
shores of the Baltic, was his final expedient for assuring England's
commercial ruin. As far back as February, 1798, he had recommended the
extension of French influence over the Hanse Towns as a means of
reducing his most redoubtable foe to surrender, and now there were two
special reasons for this annexation. First, the ships of Oldenburg had
been largely used for conveying British produce into North
Germany;[228] and secondly, the French commercial code was so rigorous
that no officials with even the semblance of independence could be
trusted with its execution. On August 5th a decree had been
promulgated at the Trianon, near Versailles, which imposed enormous
duties on every important colonial product. Cotton--especially that
from America--sugar, tea, coffee, cocoa, and other articles were
subjected to dues, generally of half their value and irrespective of
their place of production.

[Illustration: CENTRAL EUROPE AFTER 1810]

Traders were ordered to declare their possession of all colonial wares
and to pay the duty, under pain of confiscation. Depôts of such goods
within four days' distance from the frontiers of the Empire were held
to be clandestine; and troops were sent forthwith into Germany,
Switzerland, and Spain to seize such stores, a proceeding which
aroused the men of Stuttgart, Frankfurt, and Berne to almost open
resistance. It is difficult to see the reason for this decree, except
on the supposition that the Continental System did not stop British
imports, and that all tropical products were British.

Napoleon's own correspondence shows that he believed this to be so. At
that same time he issued orders that all colonial produce found at
Stettin should be confiscated because it was evidently English
property brought on American ships. He further recommended Murat and
Eugène to press hard on such wares in order to replenish their
exchequers and raise funds for restoring their commerce. Eugène must,
however, be careful to tax American and colonial cotton most heavily,
while letting in that of the Levant on favourable terms.

Jerome, too, was bidden rigorously to enforce the Trianon tariff in
Westphalia; and the hint was to be passed on to Prussia and the
Rhenish Confederation that, by subjecting colonial goods to these
enormous imposts, those States would gain several millions of francs
"and the loss would fall partly on English commerce and partly on the
smugglers."[229] In fact, all his acts and words at this time reveal
the densest ignorance, not only of political economy, but of the
elementary facts of commerce, as when he imagined that officials, who
were sufficiently hard worked with watching a nimble host of some
100,000 smugglers along an immense frontier, would also be able to
distinguish between Syrian and American cottons, and to exact 800
francs from 100 kilogrammes of the latter, as against 400 francs from
the former, or that six times as much could ever be levied on Chinese
teas as on other teas! Such a tariff called for a highly drilled army
of those sufficiently rare individuals, honest _douaniers_, endowed
also with Napoleonic activity and omniscience. But, as Chaptal
remarked, the Emperor had never thought much about the needs of
commerce, and he despised merchants as persons who had "neither a
faith nor a country, whose sole object was gain." His own notion about
commerce was that he could "make it manoeuvre like a regiment"; and
this military conception of trade led him to entertain the fond hope
that exchequers benefited by confiscation and prohibitive tariffs,
that a "national commerce" could be speedily built up by cutting off
imports, and that the burden of loss in the present commercial war
fell on England and not on the continental consumer.

Such was the penalty which the great man paid for scorning all new
knowledge as _idéalogie_. The principles set forth by Quesnay, Turgot,
and Adam Smith were to him mere sophistical juggling. He once said to
Mollien: "I seek the good that is practical, not the ideal best: the
world is very old: we must profit by its experience: it teaches that
old practices are worth more than new theories: you are not the only
one who knows trade secrets."[230] This was his general attitude
towards the exponents of new financial or commercial views. Indeed, we
can hardly think of this great champion of external control and state
intervention favouring the open-handed methods of _laisser faire_.
Unhappy France, that gave this motto to the world but let her greatest
ruler emphasize her recent reaction towards commercial mediævalism!
Luckless Emperor, who aspired to found the United States of Europe,
but outraged the principle which most surely and lastingly works for
international harmony, that of Free Trade!

While the Trianon tariff sought to hinder the import of England's
colonial products, or, failing that, to reap a golden harvest from
them, Napoleon further endeavoured to terrify continental dealers from
accepting any of her manufactures. His Fontainebleau decree of October
18th, 1810, ordered that all such goods should be seized and publicly
burnt; and five weeks later special tribunals were instituted for
enforcing these ukases and for trying all persons, whether smugglers
caught red-handed or shopkeepers who inadvertently offered for sale
the cottons of Lancashire or the silks of Bengal.

The canon was now complete. It only remained to convert the world to
the new gospel of pacific war. The results were soon clearly visible
in a sudden rise of prices throughout France, Germany, and Italy. Raw
cotton now fetched 10 to 11 francs, sugar 6 to 7 francs, coffee 8
francs, and indigo 21 francs, per pound, or on the average about ten
times the prices then ruling at London.[231] The reason for this
advantage to the English consumer and manufacturer is clear. England
swayed the tropics and held the seas; and, having a monopoly of
colonial produce, she could import it easily and abundantly, while the
continental purchaser had ultimately to pay for the risks incurred by
his shopkeeper, by British merchants, and by their smugglers, who "ran
in" from Heligoland, Jersey, or Sicily. These classes vied in their
efforts to prick holes in the continental decrees. Bargees and women,
dogs and hearses, were pressed into service against Napoleon. The
last-named device was for a time tried with much success near Hamburg,
until the French authorities, wondering at the strange increase of
funerals in a river-side suburb, peered into the hearses, and found
them stuffed full with bales of British merchandise. This gruesome
plan failing, others were tried. Large quantities of sand were brought
from the seashore, until, unfortunately for the housewives, some
inquisitive official found that it hailed from the West Indies.

Or again, devious routes were resorted to. Sugar was smuggled from
London into Germany by way of Salonica, that being now almost the only
neutral port open to British commerce. Thence it was borne in panniers
on the backs of mules over the Balkans to Belgrade, where it was
transferred to barges and carried up the Danube. Another illicit trade
route was from the desolate shores of Dalmatia through Hungary. The
writer of a pamphlet, "England, Ireland, and America," states that his
firm then employed 500 horses on and near that coast in carrying
British goods into Central Europe, and that the cost of getting them
into France was "about £28 per cwt., or more than fifty times the
present freight to Calcutta." In fact, the result of the Emperor's
economic experiments may be summed up in the statement of Chaptal that
the general run of prices in France was higher by one-third than it
was before 1789.

Now the merest tyro might see that the difference in price above the
normal level was paid by the consumer. The colonial producer, the
British merchant and shipper were certainly harassed, and trade was
dislocated; but, as Mollien observed, commerce soon adapted itself to
altered conditions; and merchants never parted with their wares
without getting hard cash or resorting to the primitive method of
barter. Money was also frequently melted down in France and Germany so
as to effect bargains with England in bars of metal. And so, in one
way or another, trade was carried on, with infinite discomfort and
friction, it is true; but it never wholly ceased even between England
and France direct.

In fact, Napoleon so clung to the old mercantilist craze of
stimulating exports in order that they might greatly exceed the
imports, as to favour the sending of agricultural produce to England,
provided that such cargoes comprised manufactured goods. He allowed
this privilege not only to his Empire but also to the Kingdom of
Italy.[232] The difficulty was that England would not receive the
manufactured goods of her enemies; and, as corn and cheese could not
be exported to England, unless a certain proportion of silk and cloths
went with them, the latter were got up so as to satisfy the French
customs officers and then cast into the sea. It is needless to add
that this export of manufactures to England, on which Napoleon prided
himself, was limited to showy but worthless articles, which were made
solely _ad usum delphinorum_.

It was fortunate for us that Napoleon entertained these crude ideas on
political economy; for his action opened for us a loophole of escape
from a very serious difficulty. At that time our fast growing
population was barely fed by our own wheat even after good seasons;
and Providence afflicted us in 1809 and 1810 with very poor harvests.
In 1810 the average price was 103 shillings the quarter, the highest
ever known except in 1800 and 1801; and as commerce was dislocated by
the Continental System and hand-labour was being largely replaced by
the new power-looms and improved spinning machinery, the outlook would
have been hopeless, had not our great enemy allowed us to import
continental corn. This device, which he imagined would impoverish us
to enrich his own States, was the greatest aid that he could have
rendered to our hard-pressed social system; and readers of Charlotte
Brontë's realistic sketches of the Luddite rioting in Yorkshire may
imagine what would have befallen England if, besides lack of work and
low wages, there had been the added horrors of a bread famine. But
fortunately the curious commercial notions harboured by our foe
enabled us in the winter of 1810-11 to get supplies of corn not only
from Prussia and Poland but even from Italy and France.

In one sense this incident has been misunderstood. It has been
referred to by Porter[233] and other hopeful persons as proof positive
that as long as we can buy corn we shall get it, even from our
enemies. It proves nothing of the sort. Napoleon's correspondence and
his whole policy with regard to licences, which we shall presently
examine, shows clearly that he believed he would greatly benefit his
own States and impoverish our people by selling us large stores of
corn at a very high price. There is no hint in any of his letters that
he ever framed the notion of _starving_ us into surrender. All that he
looked to was the draining away of our wealth by cutting off our
exports, and by allowing imports to enter our harbours much as usual.
As long as he prevented us selling our produce, he heeded little how
much we bought from his States: in fact, the more we bought, the
sooner we should be bankrupt--such was his notion.

It is strange that he never sought to cut off our corn-supplies. They
were then drawn almost entirely from the Baltic ports. The United
States and Canada had as yet only sent us a few driblets of corn. La
Plata and the Cape of Good Hope were quite undeveloped; and our
settlements in New South Wales were at that time often troubled by
dearth. The plan of sealing up the cornfields of Europe from Riga to
Trieste would have been feasible, at least for a few weeks; French
troops held Danzig and Stettin; Russia, Prussia, and Denmark were at
his beck and call; and an imperial decree forbidding the export of
corn from France and her allied States to the United Kingdom could
hardly have failed to reduce us to starvation and surrender in the
very critical winter of 1810-11. But that strange mental defect of
clinging with ever increasing tenacity to preconceived notions led
Napoleon to allow and even to favour exports of corn to us in the time
of our utmost need; and Britain survived the strain.[234]

What folly, however, to refer to the action of this man of one
economic idea as being likely to determine the conduct of continental
statesmen in some future naval war with England. In truth, the urgency
of the problem of our national food-supply in time of a great war can
only be fully understood by those who have studied the Napoleonic era.
England then grew nearly enough corn for her needs; her fleets swept
the seas; and Napoleon's economic hobby left her foreign food-supply
unhampered at the severest crisis. Yet, even so, the price of the
quartern loaf rose to more than fifteenpence, and we were brought to
the verge of civil war. A comparison of that time with the conditions
that now prevail must yield food for reflection to all but the
case-hardened optimists.

But already Napoleon was convinced that the Continental System must be
secretly relaxed in special cases. Despite the fulsome addresses which
some Chambers of Commerce sent up, he knew that his seaports were in
the depths of distress, and that French cotton manufacturers could not
hope to compete with those of Lancashire now that his own tariff had
doubled the price of raw cotton and dyes in France. He therefore hit
upon the curious device of allowing continental merchants to buy
licences for the privilege of secretly evading his own decrees. The
English Government seems to have been the first to issue similar
secret permits; but Napoleon had scarcely signed his Berlin Decree for
the blockade of England before he connived at its infraction. When
sugar, coffee, and other comforts became scarce, they were secretly
imported from perfidious Albion for the imperial table. The final
stage was reached in July, 1810, when licences to import forbidden
goods were secretly sold to favoured merchants, and many
officials--among them Bourrienne--reaped a rich harvest from the sale
of these imperial indulgences. Merchants were so eager to evade the
hated laws that they offered high prices to the treasury and
_douceurs_ to officials for the coveted boon; and as much as £40,000
is said to have been paid for a single licence.

On both sides of the Channel this device was abhorred, but its results
were specially odious in Napoleon's States, where the burdens to be
evaded were far heavier than those entailed by the Orders in Council.
In fact, the Continental System was now seen to be an organized
hypocrisy, which, in order to ruin the mistress of the seas, exposed
the peoples to burdens more grievous than those borne by England, and
left all but the wealthiest merchants a prey to a grinding fiscal
tyranny. And the sting of it all was its social injustice; for while
the poor were severely punished, sometimes with death, for smuggling
sugar or tobacco, Napoleon and the favoured few who could buy licences
often imported these articles in large quantities. What wonder, then,
that Russia and Sweden should decline long to endure these gratuitous
hardships, and should seek to evade the behests of the imperial
smuggler of the Tuileries!

Nevertheless, as no inventive people can ever be thrown wholly on its
own resources without deriving some benefit, we find that France met
the crisis with the cheery patience and unflagging ingenuity which she
has ever evinced. In a great Empire which embraced all the lands
between Hamburg, Bayonne, and Rome, not to mention Illyria and
Dalmatia, a great variety of products might readily reward the
inventor and the husbandman. Tobacco, rice, and cotton could be reared
in the southern portions. Valiant efforts were also made to get
Asiatic produce overland, so as to disappoint the English cruisers;
and the coffee of Arabia was taxed very lightly, so as to ruin the
American producer. When the fragrant berry became more and more
scarce, chicory was discovered by good patriots to be a palatable
substitute, and scientific men sought to induce French manufacturers
to use the isatis plant instead of indigo. Prizes were offered by the
State and by local Chambers of Commerce to those who should make up
for the lack of tropical goods and dyes.

A notable discovery was made by Chaptal and Delessert, who improved on
Markgraf's process of procuring sugar from beetroot and made it a
practical success. Napoleon also hoped that a chemical substitute for
indigo had been found, and exclaimed to a doleful deputation of
merchants, who came to the Tuileries in the early summer of 1811, that
chemistry would soon revolutionize commerce as completely as the
discovery of the compass had done. Besides, the French Empire was the
richest country in the world, and could almost do without foreign
commerce, at least until England had given way; and that would soon
come to pass; for the pressure of events would soon compel London
merchants to throw their sugar and indigo into the Thames.[235]

In reality, he placed commerce far behind agriculture, which he
considered to be the basis of a nation's wealth and a nation's health.
But he also took a keen interest in manufactures. The silk industry at
Lyons found in him a generous patron. He ordered that the best
scientific training should there be given, so as to improve the
processes of manufacture; and, as silk of nearly all kinds could be
produced in France and Italy, Lyons was comparatively prosperous.
When, however, it suffered from the general rise of prices and from
the impaired buying power of the community, he adopted heroic
remedies. He ordered that all ships leaving France should carry silk
fabrics equal in value to one-fourth of the whole freight; but whether
these stuffs went to adorn women or mermaids seems an open question.
Or again, on the advice of Chaptal, the Emperor made large purchases
of surplus stocks of Lyons silk, Rouen cottons, and Ste. Antoine
furniture, so as to prevent an imminent collapse of credit and a
recrudescence of Jacobinism in those industrial centres; for as he
said: "I fear a rising brought about by want of bread: I had rather
fight an army of 200,000 men than that."[236]

In the main, this policy of giving _panem et circenses_ was successful
in France; at least, it kept her quiet. The national feeling ran
strongly in favour of commercial prohibition. In 1787 Arthur Young
found the cotton-workers of the north furious at the recent inroads of
Lancashire cottons, while the wine-growers of the Garonne were equally
favourable to the enlightened Anglo-French commercial treaty of 1786.
It was Napoleon's lot to win the favour of the rigid protectionists,
while not alienating that of the men of the Gironde, who saw in him
the champion of agrarian liberty against the feudal nobles. Moreover,
the nation still cherished the pathetic belief that the war was due to
Albion's perfidy respecting Malta, and burned with a desire to
chastise the recreant islanders. For these reasons, Frenchmen endured
the drain of men and money with but little show of grumbling.

They were tired of the wars. _We have had enough glory_, they said,
even in the capital itself, and an acute German observer describes the
feeling there as curiously mixed. Parisian gaiety often found vent in
lampoons against the Emperor; and much satire at his expense might
with safety be indulged in among a crowd, provided it were seasoned
with wit. The people seemed not to fear Napoleon, as he was feared in
Germany: the old revolutionary party was still active and might easily
become far more dangerous than the royalist coteries of the Boulevard
St. Germain. For the rest, they were all so accustomed to political
change that they looked on his government as provisional, and put up
with him only as long as the army triumphed abroad and he could make
his power felt at home. Such was the impression of Paris gained by
Varnhagen von Ense. Public opinion in the provinces seems to have been
more favourable to Napoleon; and, on the whole, pride in the army and
in the vigorous administration which that nation loves, above all,
hatred of England and the hope of wresting from her the world's
empire, led the French silently to endure rigorous press laws,
increased taxes, war prices, licences, and chicory.

For Germans the hardships were much greater and the alleviations far
less. They had no deep interest in Malta or in the dominion of the
seas; and political economy was then only beginning to dawn on the
Teutonic mind. The general trend of German thought had inclined
towards the _Everlasting Nay_, until Napoleon flashed across its ken.
For a time he won the admiration of the chief thinkers of Germany by
brushing away the feudal cobwebs from her fair face. He seemed about
to call her sons to a life of public activity; and in the famous
soliloquy of Faust, in which he feels his way from word to thought,
from thought to might, and from might to action, we may discern the
literary projection of the influence exerted by the new Charlemagne on
that nation of dreamers.[237] But the promise was fulfilled only in
the most harshly practical way, namely, by cutting off all supplies of
tobacco and coffee; and when Teufelsdröckh himself, admirer though he
was of the French Revolution, found that the summons for his favourite
beverage--the "dear melancholy coffee, that begets fancies," of
Lessing--produced only a muddy decoction of acorns, there was the risk
of his tendencies earthwards taking a very practically revolutionary
turn.

In truth, the German universities were the leaders of the national
reaction against the Emperor of the West. Fichte's pleading for a
truly national education had taken effect. Elementary instruction was
now being organized in Prussia; and the divorce of thought from
action, which had so long sterilized German life, was ended by the
foundation of the University of Berlin by Humboldt. Thus, in 1810, the
year of Prussia's deepest woe, when her brave Queen died of a stricken
heart, when French soldiers and _douaniers_ were seizing and burning
colonial wares, her thinkers came into closer touch with her men of
action, with mutually helpful results. Thinkers ceased to be mere
dreamers, and Prussian officials gained a wider outlook on life. The
life of beneficent activity, to which Napoleon might have summoned the
great majority of Germans, dawned on them from Berlin, not from Paris.

His influence was more and more oppressive. The final results of his
commercial decrees on the trade of Hamburg were thus described by
Perthes, a well-known writer and bookseller of that town: "Of the 422
sugar-boiling houses, few now stood open: the printing of cottons had
ceased entirely: the tobacco-dressers were driven away by the
Government. The imposition of innumerable taxes, door and window,
capitation and land taxes, drove the inhabitants to despair." But the
same sagacious thinker was able to point the moral of it all, and
prove to his friends that their present trials were due to the selfish
particularism of the German States: "It was a necessity that some
great power should arise in the midst of the degenerate selfishness of
the times and also prove victorious, for there was nothing vigorous to
oppose it. Napoleon is an historical necessity."[238]

Thus, both in the abodes of learning and in the centres of industry
men were groping after a higher unity and a firmer political
organization, which, after the Napoleonic deluge had swept by, was to
lay the foundation of a New Germany.

To all appearances, however, Napoleon's power seemed to be more firmly
established than ever in the ensuing year. On March 20th, 1811, a son
was born to him. At the crisis of this event, he revealed the warmth
of his family instincts. On hearing that the life of mother or infant
might have to be sacrificed, he exclaimed at once, "Save the
mother."[239] When the danger was past, he very considerately informed
Josephine, stating, "he has my chest, my mouth and my eyes. I trust
that he will fulfil his destiny." That destiny was mapped out in the
title conferred on the child, "King of Rome," which was designed to
recall the title "King of the Romans," used in the Holy Roman Empire.

Napoleon resolved that the old elective dignity should now be renewed
in a strictly hereditary Empire, vaster than that of Charlemagne.
Paris was to be its capital, Rome its second city, and the future
Emperors were always to be crowned a second time at Rome. Furthermore,
lest the mediæval dispute as to the supremacy of Emperor or Pope in
Rome should again vex mankind, the Papacy was virtually annexed: the
status of the pontiff was defined in the most Erastian sense, imperial
funds were assigned for his support, and he was bidden to maintain two
palaces, "the one necessarily at Paris, the other at Rome."

It is impossible briefly to describe the various conflicts between
Pius VII. and Napoleon. Though now kept in captivity by Napoleon, the
Pope refused to ratify these and other ukases of his captor; and the
credit which Napoleon had won by his wordly-wise Concordat was now lost
by his infraction of many of its clauses and by his harsh treatment of
a defenceless old man. It is true that Pius had excommunicated
Napoleon; but that was for the crime of annexing the Papal States, and
public opinion revolted at the spectacle of an all-powerful Emperor now
consigning to captivity the man who in former years had done so much to
consolidate his authority. After the disasters of the Russian campaign,
he sought to come to terms with the pontiff; but even then the bargain
struck at Fontainebleau was so hard that his prisoner, though unnerved
by ill-health, retracted the unholy compromise. Whereupon Napoleon
ordered that the cardinals who advised this step should be seized and
carried away from Fontainebleau. Few of Napoleon's actions were more
harmful than this series of petty persecutions; and among the
influences that brought about his fall, we may reckon the dignified
resistance of the pontiff, whose meekness threw up in sharp relief the
pride and arrogance of his captor. The Papacy stooped, but only to
conquer.

For the present, everything seemed to favour the new Charlemagne.
Never had the world seen embodied might like that of Napoleon's
Empire; and well might he exclaim at the birth of the King of Rome,
"Now begins the finest epoch of my reign." All the auguries seemed
favourable. In France, the voice of opposition was all but hushed.
Italians, Swiss, and even some Spaniards, helped to keep down Prussia.
Dutchmen and Danes had hunted down Schill for him at Stralsund. Polish
horsemen had charged up the Somosierra Pass against the Spanish guns,
and did valiant service on the bloody field of Albuera. The
Confederation of the Rhine could send forth 150,000 men to fight his
battles. The Hapsburgs were his vassals, and only faint shadows of
discord as yet clouded his relations with Alexander. One of his
Marshals, Bernadotte, had been chosen to succeed to the crown of
Sweden; and at the other end of Europe, it seemed that Wellington and
the Spanish patriots must ultimately succumb to superior numbers.

Surely now was the time for the fulfilment of those glowing oriental
designs beside which his European triumphs seemed pale. In the autumn
of 1810 he sent agents carefully to inspect the strongholds of Egypt
and Syria, and his consuls in the Levant were ordered to send a report
every six months on the condition of the Turkish Empire.[240] Above
all, he urged on the completion of dockyards and ships of war. Vast
works were pushed on at Antwerp and Cherbourg: ships and gunboats were
to be built at every suitable port from the Texel to Naples and
Trieste; and as the result of these labours, the Emperor counted on
having 104 ships of the line, which would cover the transports from
the Mediterranean, Cherbourg, Boulogne and the Scheldt, and threaten
England with an array of 200,000 fighting men.[241]

In March, 1811, this plan was modified, possibly because, as in 1804,
he found the difficulties of a descent on our coasts greater than he
first imagined. He now seeks merely to weary out the English in the
present year. But in the next year, or in 1813, he will send an
expedition of 40,000 men from the Scheldt, as if to menace Ireland;
and, having thrown us off our guard, he will divide that force into
four parts for the recovery of the French and Dutch colonies in the
West Indies. He counts also on having a part of his army in Spain free
for service elsewhere: it must be sent to seize Sicily or Egypt.

But this was not all. His thoughts also turn to the Cape of Good Hope.
Eight thousand men are to sail from Brest to seize that point of
vantage at which he had gazed so longingly in 1803. Of these plans,
the recovery of Egypt evidently lay nearest to his heart. He orders
the storage at Toulon of everything needful for an Egyptian
expedition, along with sixty gun-vessels of light draught suitable for
the navigation of the Nile or of the lakes near the coast.[242] Decrès
is charged to send models of these craft; and we may picture the eager
scrutiny which they received. For the Orient was still the pole to
which Napoleon's whole being responded. Turned away perforce by wars
with Austria, Russia, Prussia, and Spain, it swung round towards Egypt
and India on the first chance of European peace, only to be driven
back by some untoward shock nearer home. In 1803 he counted on the
speedy opening of a campaign on the Ganges. In 1811 he proposes that
the tricolour shall once more wave on the citadel of Cairo, and
threaten India from the shores of the Red Sea. But a higher will than
his disposed of these events, and ordained that he should then be
flung back from Russia and fight for his Empire in the plains of
Saxony.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXII

THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN


Two mighty and ambitious potentates never fully trust one another.
Under all the shows of diplomatic affection, there remains a thick
rind of reserve or fear. Especially must that be so with men who
spring from a fierce untamed stock. Despite the training of Laharpe,
Alexander at times showed the passions and finesse of a Boyar. And who
shall say that the early Jacobinism and later culture of Napoleon was
more than a veneer spread all too thinly over an Italian _condottiere_
of the Renaissance age? These men were too expert at wiles really to
trust to the pompous assurances of Tilsit and Erfurt. De Maistre tells
us that Napoleon never partook of Alexander's repasts on the banks of
the Niemen. For him Muscovite cookery was suspect.

Amidst the glories of Erfurt, Oudinot saw an incident that revealed
the Czar's hidden feelings. During one of their rides, the Emperors
were stopped by a dyke, which Napoleon's steed refused to take;
accordingly the Marshal had to help it across; but the Czar, proud of
his horsemanship, finally cleared the obstacle with a splendid bound,
though at the cost of a shock which broke his sword-belt. The sword
fell to the ground, and Oudinot was about to hand it to Alexander,
when Napoleon quickly said: "Keep that sword and bring it to me
later": then, turning to the Czar, he added: "You have no objection,
Sire?" A look of surprise and distrust flashed across the Czar's
features; but, resuming his easy bearing, he gave his assent. Later in
the day, Napoleon sent his own sword to Alexander, and thus came off
easily best from an incident which threatened at first to throw him
into the shade. The affair shows the ready wit and mental superiority
of the one man no less than the veiled reserve and uneasiness of the
other.

At the close of 1809, Alexander confessed his inner feeling to
Czartoryski. Napoleon, he said, was a man who would not scruple to use
any means so long as he gained his end: his mental strength was
unquestioned: in the worst troubles he was cool and collected: his
fits of passion were only meant to intimidate: his every act was the
result of calculation: it was absurd to say that his prodigious
exertions would drive him mad: his health was splendid and was equal
to any effort provided that he had eight hours' sleep every day. The
impression left on the ex-Minister was that Alexander understood his
ally thoroughly and _feared him greatly_.[243]

A few days later came Napoleon's request for the hand of the Czar's
sister, a request which Alexander declined with many expressions of
goodwill and regret. What, then, was his surprise to find that, before
the final answer had been returned, Napoleon was in treaty for the
hand of an Austrian Archduchess.[244] This time it was for him to feel
affronted. And so this breathless search for a bride left sore
feelings at both capitals, at Paris because the Czar declined
Napoleon's request, at St. Petersburg because the imperial wooer was
off on another scent before the first had given out.

Alexander's annoyance was increased by his ally's doubtful behaviour
about Poland. After the recent increase of the Duchy of Warsaw he had
urged Napoleon to make a declaration that "the Kingdom of Poland shall
never be re-established." This matter was being discussed side by side
with the matrimonial overtures; and, after their collapse, Napoleon
finally declined to give this assurance which Alexander felt needful
for checking the rising hopes of Poles and Lithuanians. The utmost the
French Emperor would do was to promise, _in a secret clause_, that he
would never aid any other Power or any popular movement that aimed at
the re-establishment of that kingdom.[245] In fact, as the Muscovite
alliance was on the wane, he judged it bad policy to discourage the
Poles, who might do so much for him in case of a Franco-Russian war.
He soon begins to face seriously the prospect of such an event. At the
close of 1810 he writes that the Russians are intrenching themselves
on the Dwina and Dniester, which "shows a bad spirit."

But the great difficulty is Russia's imperfect observation of the
Continental System. He begs the Czar to close his ports against
English ships: 600 of them are wandering about the Baltic, after being
repulsed from its southern shores, in the hope of getting into Russian
harbours. Let Alexander seize their cargoes, and England, now at her
last gasp, must give in. Five weeks later he returns to the charge. It
is not enough to seize British ships; the hated wares get in under
American, Swedish, Spanish, and Portuguese, _even under French flags_.
Of the 2,000 ships that entered the Baltic in 1810, not one was really
a neutral: they were all charged with English goods, with false papers
and _forged certificates of origin manufactured in London_.[246] Any
other unit among earth's millions would have been convinced of the
futility of the whole enterprise, now that his own special devices
were being turned against him. It was not enough to conquer and
enchain the Continent. Every customs officer must be an expert in
manufactures, groceries, documents, and the water-marks of paper, if
he was to detect the new "frauds of the neutral flags."

But Napoleon knew not the word impossible--"a word that exists only in
the dictionary of fools." In fact, his mind, naturally unbending, was
now working more and more in self-made grooves. Of these the deepest
was his commercial warfare; and he pushed on, reckless of Europe and
reckless of the Czar. In the middle of December he annexed the North
Sea coast of Germany, including Oldenburg. The heir to this duchy had
married Alexander's sister, whose hand Napoleon had claimed at Erfurt.
The duke, it is true, was offered the district of Erfurt as an
indemnity; but that proposal only stung the Czar the more. The
deposition of the duke was not merely a personal affront; it was an
infraction of the Treaty of Tilsit which had restored him to his
duchy.

A fortnight later, when as yet he knew not of the Oldenburg incident,
Alexander himself broke that treaty.[247] At the close of 1810 he
declined to admit land-borne goods on the easy terms arranged at
Tilsit, but levied heavy dues on them, especially on the _articles de
luxe_ that mostly hailed from France. Some such step was inevitable.
Unable to export freely to England, Russia had not money enough to buy
costly French goods without disordering the exchange and ruining her
credit. While seeking to raise revenue on French manufactures, the
Czar resolved to admit on easy terms all colonial goods, especially
American. English goods he would shut out as heretofore; and he
claimed that this new departure was well within the limits of the
Treaty of Tilsit. Far different was Napoleon's view: "Here is a great
planet taking a wrong direction. I do not understand its course at
all."[248] Such were his first words on reading the text of the new
ukase. A fatalistic tone now haunts his references to Russia's policy.
On April 2nd he writes: "If Alexander does not quickly stop the
impetus which has been given, he will be carried away by it next year;
and thus war will take place in spite of him, _in spite of me_, in
spite of the interests of France and Russia.... It is an operatic
scene, of which the English are the shifters." What madness! As if
Russia's craving for colonial wares and solvency were a device of the
diabolical islanders.[249] As if his planetary simile were anything
more than a claim that he was the centre of the universe and his will
its guiding and controlling power.

Nevertheless, Russia held on her way. In vain did Alexander explain to
his ally the economic needs of his realm, protest his fidelity to the
Continental System, and beg some consideration for the Duke of
Oldenburg. It was evident that the Emperor of the West would make no
real concession. In fact, the need of domination was the quintessence
of his being. And Maret, Duc de Bassano, who was now his Foreign
Minister, or rather, we should say, the man who wrote and signed his
despatches, revealed the psychological cause of the war which cost the
lives of nearly a million of men, in a note to Lauriston, the French
ambassador at St. Petersburg. Napoleon, he wrote, cared little about
interviews or negotiations unless the movements of his 450,000 men
caused serious concern in Russia, recalled her to the Continental
System as settled at Tilsit, and "brought her back to the state of
inferiority in which she was then."[250]

This was, indeed, the gist of the whole question. Napoleon saw that
Alexander was slipping out of the leading strings of Tilsit, and that
he was likely to come off best from that bargain, which was intended
to confirm the supremacy of the Western Empire. For both potentates
that treaty had been, at bottom, nothing more than a truce. Napoleon
saw in it a means of subjecting the Continent to his commercial code,
and of preparing for a Franco-Russian partition of Turkey. The Czar
hailed it as a breathing space wherein he could reorganize his army,
conquer Finland, and stride towards the Balkans. The Erfurt interview
prolonged the truce; for Napoleon felt the supreme need of stamping
out the Spanish Rising and of postponing the partition of Turkey which
his ally was eager to begin. By the close of 1811 both potentates had
exhausted all the benefits likely to accrue from their alliance.[251]
Napoleon flattered himself that the conquest of Spain was wellnigh
assured, and that England was in her last agonies. On the other hand,
Russia had recovered her military strength, had gained Finland and
planted her foot on the Lower Danube, and now sought to shuffle off
Napoleon's commercial decrees. In fine, the monarch, who at Tilsit had
figured as mere clay in the hands of the Corsican potter, had proved
himself to be his equal both in cunning and tenacity. The seeming dupe
of 1807 now promised to be the victor in statecraft.

Then there was the open sore of Poland. The challenge, on this
subject, was flung down by Napoleon at a diplomatic reception on his
birthday, August 15th, 1811. Addressing the Russian envoy, he
exclaimed: "I am not so stupid as to think that it is Oldenburg which
troubles you. I see that Poland is the question: you attribute to me
designs in favour of Poland. I begin to think that you wish to seize
it. No: if your army were encamped on Montmartre, I would not cede an
inch of the Warsaw territory, not a village, not a windmill." His
fears as to Russia's designs were far-fetched. Alexander's sounding of
the Poles was a defensive measure, seriously undertaken only after
Napoleon's refusal to discourage the Polish nationalists. But it
suited the French Emperor to aver that the quarrel was about Poland
rather than the Continental System, and the scene just described is a
good specimen of his habit of cool calculation even in seemingly
chance outbursts of temper. His rhapsody gained him the ardent support
of the Poles, and was vague enough to cause no great alarm to Austria
and Prussia.[252]

On the next day Napoleon sketched to his Ministers the general plan of
campaign against Russia. The whole of the Continent was to be
embattled against her. On the Hapsburg alliance he might well rely.
But the conduct of Prussia gave him some concern. For a time she
seemed about to risk a war _à outrance_, such as Stein, Fichte, and
the staunch patriots of the Tugendbund ardently craved. Indeed,
Napoleon's threats to this hapless realm seemed for a time to portend
its annihilation. The King, therefore, sent Scharnhorst first to St.
Petersburg and then to Vienna with secret overtures for an alliance.
They were virtually refused. Prudence was in the ascendant at both
capitals; and, as will presently appear, the more sagacious Prussians
soon came to see that a war, in which Napoleon could be enticed into
the heart of Russia, might deal a mortal blow at his overgrown Empire.
Certainly it was quite impossible for Prussia to stay the French
advance. A guerilla warfare, such as throve in Spain, must surely be
crushed in her open plains; and the diffident King returned
Gneisenau's plan of a rising of the Prussian people against Napoleon
with the chilling comment, "Very good as poetry."

Thus, when Napoleon wound up his diplomatic threats by an imperious
summons to side with him or against him, Frederick William was fain to
abide by his terms, sending 20,000 troops against Russia, granting
free passage to Napoleon's army, and furnishing immense supplies of
food and forage, the payment of which was to be settled by some future
arrangement (February, 1812). These conditions seemed to thrust
Prussia down to the lowest circle of the Napoleonic Inferno; and great
was the indignation of her patriots. They saw not that only by
stooping before the western blast could Prussia be saved. To this
topic we shall recur presently, when we treat of the Russian plan of
campaign.

Sweden was less tractable than Napoleon expected. He had hoped that
the deposition of his personal enemy, Gustavus IV., the enthronement
of a feeble old man, Charles XIII., and the choice of Bernadotte as
heir to the Swedish crown, would bring that land back to its
traditional alliance with France. But, on accepting his new dignity,
Bernadotte showed his customary independence of thought by refusing to
promise that he would never bear arms against France--a refusal that
cost him his principality of Ponte Corvo. He at once adopted a forward
Scandinavian policy; and, as the Franco-Russian alliance waned, he
offered Swedish succour to Napoleon if he would favour the acquisition
of Norway by the Court of Stockholm.

The Emperor had himself mooted this project in 1802, but he now
returned a stern refusal (February 25th, 1811), and bade Sweden
enforce the Continental System under pain of the occupation of Swedish
Pomerania by French troops. Even this threat failed to bend the will
of Bernadotte, and the Swedes preferred to forego their troublesome
German province rather than lose their foreign commerce. In the
following January, Napoleon carried out his threat, thereby throwing
Sweden into the arms of Russia. By the treaty of March-April, 1812,
Bernadotte gained from Alexander the prospect of acquiring Norway, in
return for the aid of Sweden in the forthcoming war against Napoleon.
This was the chief diplomatic success gained by Alexander; for though
he came to terms with Turkey two months later (retaining Bessarabia),
the treaty was ratified too late to enable him to concentrate all his
forces against the Napoleonic host that was now flooding the plains of
Prussia.[253]

The results of this understanding with the Court of Stockholm were
seen in the Czar's note presented at Paris at the close of April. He
required of Napoleon the evacuation of Swedish Pomerania by French
troops and a friendly adjustment of Franco-Swedish disputes, the
evacuation of Prussia by the French, the reduction of their large
garrison at Danzig, and the recognition of Russia's right to trade
with neutrals. If these terms were accorded by France, Alexander was
ready to negotiate for an indemnity for the Duke of Oldenburg and a
mitigation of the Russian customs dues on French goods.[254] The
reception given by Napoleon to these reasonable terms was unpromising.
"You are a gentleman," he exclaimed to Prince Kurakin, "--and yet you
dare to present to me such proposals?--You are acting as Prussia did
before Jena." Alexander had already given up all hope of peace. A week
before that scene, he had left St. Petersburg for the army, knowing
full well that Napoleon's cast-iron will might be shivered by a mighty
blow, but could never be bent by diplomacy.

On his side, Napoleon sought to overawe his eastern rival by a display
of imposing force. Lord of a dominion that far excelled that of the
Czar in material resources, suzerain of seven kingdoms and thirty
principalities, he called his allies and vassals about him at Dresden,
and gave to the world the last vision of that imperial splendour which
dazzled the imagination of men.

It was an idle display. In return for secret assurances that he might
eventually regain his Illyrian provinces, the Emperor Francis had
pledged himself by treaty to send 30,000 men to guard Napoleon's flank
in Volhynia. But everyone at St. Petersburg knew that this aid, along
with that of Prussia, was forced and hollow.[255] The example of Spain
and the cautious strategy of Wellington had dissolved the spell of
French invincibility; and the Czar was resolved to trust to the
toughness of his people and the defensive strength of his boundless
plains. The time of the Macks, the Brunswicks, the Bennigsens was
past: the day of Wellington and of truly national methods of warfare
had dawned.

Yet the hosts now moving against Alexander bade fair to overwhelm the
devotion of his myriad subjects and the awful solitudes of his
steppes. It was as if Peter the Hermit had arisen to impel the peoples
of Western and Central Europe once more against the immobile East.
Frenchmen to the number of 200,000 formed the kernel of this vast
body: 147,000 Germans from the Confederation of the Rhine followed the
new Charlemagne: nearly 80,000 Italians under Eugène formed an Army of
Observation: 60,000 Poles stepped eagerly forth to wrest their
nation's liberty from the Muscovite grasp; and Illyrians, Swiss, and
Dutch, along with a few Spaniards and Portuguese, swelled the Grand
Army to a total of 600,000 men. Nor was this all. Austria and Prussia
sent their contingents, amounting in all to 50,000 men, to guard
Napoleon's flanks on the side of Volhynia and Courland. And this
mighty mass, driven on by Napoleon's will, gained a momentum which was
to carry its main army to Moscow.

After reviewing his vassals at Dresden, and hurrying on the
arrangements for the transport of stores, Napoleon journeyed to the
banks of the Niemen. On all sides were to be seen signs of the passage
of a mighty host, broken-down carts, dead horses, wrecked villages,
and dense columns of troops that stripped Prussia wellnigh bare. Yet,
despite these immense preparations, no hint of discouragement came
from the Czar's headquarters. On arriving at the Niemen, Napoleon
issued to the Grand Army a proclamation which was virtually a
declaration of war. In it there occurred the fatalistic remark:
"Russia is drawn on by fate: her destinies must be fulfilled."
Alexander's words to his troops breathed a different spirit: "God
fights against the aggressor."

Much that is highly conjectural has been written about the plans of
campaign of the two Emperors. That of Napoleon may be briefly stated:
it was to find out the enemy's chief forces, divide them, or cut them
from their communications, and beat them in detail. In other words, he
never started with any set plan of campaign, other than the
destruction of the chief opposing force. But, in the present instance,
it may be questioned whether he had not sought by his exasperating
provocations to drive Prussia into alliance with the Czar. In that
case, Alexander would have been bound in honour to come to the aid of
his ally. And if the Russians ventured across the Niemen, or the
Vistula, as Napoleon at first believed they would,[256] his task would
doubtless have been as easy as it proved at Friedland. Many Prussian
officers, so Müffling asserts, believed that this was the aim of
French diplomacy in the early autumn of 1811, and that the best reply
was an unconditional surrender. On the other hand, there is the fact
that St. Marsan, Napoleon's ambassador at Berlin, assured that
Government, on October 29th, that his master did not wish to destroy
Prussia, but laid much stress on the supplies which she could furnish
him--a support that would enable the Grand Army to advance on the
Niemen _like a rushing stream_.

The metaphor was strangely imprudent. It almost invited Prussia to
open wide her sluices and let the flood foam away on to the sandy
wastes of Lithuania; and we may fancy that the more discerning minds
at Berlin now saw the advantage of a policy which would entice the
French into the wastes of Muscovy. It is strange that Napoleon's
Syrian adage, "Never make war against a desert," did not now recur to
his mind. But he gradually steeled himself to the conviction that war
with Alexander was inevitable, and that the help of Austria and
Prussia would enable him to beat back the Muscovite hordes into their
eastern steppes. For a time he had unquestionably thought of
destroying Prussia before he attacked the Czar; but he finally decided
to postpone her fate until he had used her for the overthrow of
Russia.[257]

After the experiences of Austerlitz and Friedland, the advantages of a
defensive campaign could not escape the notice of the Czar. As early
as October, 1811, when Scharnhorst was at St. Petersburg, he discussed
these questions with him; and not all that officer's pleading for the
cause of Prussian independence induced Alexander to offer armed help
unless the French committed a wanton aggression on Königsberg. Seeing
that there was no hope of bringing the Russians far to the west,
Scharnhorst seems finally to have counselled a Fabian strategy for the
ensuing war; and, when at Vienna, he drew up a memoir in this sense
for the guidance of the Czar.[258]

Alexander was certainly much in need of sound guidance. Though
Scharnhorst had pointed out the way of salvation, a strategic tempter
was soon at hand in the person of General von Phull, an uncompromising
theorist who planned campaigns with an unquestioning devotion to
abstract principles. Untaught by the catastrophes of the past,
Alexander once more let his enthusiasm for theories and principles
lead him to the brink of the abyss. Phull captivated him by setting
forth the true plan of a defensive campaign which he had evolved from
patient study of the Seven Years' War. Everything depended on the
proper selection of defensive positions and the due disposition of the
defending armies. There must be two armies of defence, and at least
one great intrenched camp. One army must oppose the invader on a line
near, or leading up to, the camp; while the other army must manoeuvre
on his rear or flanks. And the camp must be so placed as to stretch
its protecting influence over one, or more, important roads. It need
not be on any one of them: in fact, it was better that it should be
some distance away; for it thus fulfilled better the all-important
function of a "flanking position."

Such a position Phull had discovered at Drissa in a curve of the River
Dwina. It was sufficiently far from the roads leading from the Niemen
to St. Petersburg and to Moscow efficiently to protect them both.
There, accordingly, he suggested that vast earthworks should be
prepared; for there, at that artificial Torres Vedras, Russia's chief
force might await the Grand Army, while the other force harassed its
flank or rear.[259]

Napoleon had not probed this absurdity to its inmost depths: but he
early found out that the Russians were in two widely separated armies;
and this sufficed to decide his movements and the early part of the
campaign. Having learnt that one army was near Vilna, and the other in
front of the marshes of the Pripet, he sought to hold them apart by a
rapid irruption into the intervening space, and thereafter to destroy
them piecemeal. Never was a visionary theory threatened by a more
terrible realism. For Napoleon at midsummer was mustering a third of a
million of men on the banks of the Niemen, while the Russians, with
little more than half those numbers as yet available for the
fighting-line, had them spread out over an immense space, so as to
facilitate those flanking operations on which Phull set such
store.[260]

On the morn of June 23rd, three immense French columns wound their way
to the pontoon bridges hastily thrown over the Niemen near Kovno; and
loud shouts of triumph greeted the great leader as the vanguard set
foot on Lithuanian soil. No Russians were seen except a few light
horsemen, who galloped up, inquired of the engineers why they were
building the bridges, and then rode hastily away. During three days
the Grand Army filed over the river and melted away into the sandy
wastes. No foe at first contested their march, but neither were they
met by the crowds of downtrodden natives whom their fancy pictured as
thronging to welcome the liberators. In truth, the peasants of
Lithuania had no very close racial affinity to the Poles, whose
offshoots were found chiefly among the nobles and the wealthier
townsfolk. Solitude, the sultry heat of a Russian mid-summer, and
drenching thunderstorms depressed the spirits of the invaders. The
miserable cart tracks were at once cut up by the passage of the host,
and 10,000 horses perished of fatigue or of disease caused by the rank
grass, in the fifty miles' march from the Niemen to Vilna.

The difficulties of the transport service began at once, and they were
to increase with every day's march. With his usual foresight, Napoleon
had ordered the collection of immense stores of all kinds at Danzig,
his chief base of supplies. Two million pairs of boots were required
for the wear and tear of a long campaign, and all preparations were on
the same colossal scale. In this connection it is noteworthy that no
small proportion of the cloaks and boots came from England, as the
industrial resources of the Continent were wholly unequal to supplying
the crusaders of the Continental System.

A great part of those stores never reached the troops in Russia. The
wherries sent from Danzig to the Niemen were often snapped up by
British cruisers, and the carriage of stores from the Niemen entailed
so frightful a waste of horseflesh that only the most absolute
necessaries could keep pace with the army in its rapid advance. The
men were thus left without food except such as marauding could extort.
In this art Napoleon's troops were experts. Many miles of country were
scoured on either side of the line of march, and the Emperor, on
reaching Vilna, had to order Ney to send out cavalry patrols to gather
in the stragglers, who were committing "horrible devastations" and
would "fall into the hands of the Cossacks."

At Vilna the Grand Army met with a more cheering reception than
heretofore. Deftly placing his Polish regiments in front and chasing
the retiring Russians beyond the town, Napoleon then returned to find
a welcome in the old Lithuanian capital. The old men came forth clad
in the national garb, and it seemed that that province, once a part of
the great Polish monarchy, would break away from the empire of the
Czars and extend Napoleon's influence to within a few miles of
Smolensk.[261] The newly-formed Diet at Warsaw also favoured this
project: it constituted itself into a general confederation, declared
the Kingdom of Poland to be restored, and sent a deputation to
Napoleon at Vilna begging him to utter the creative words: "Let the
Kingdom of Poland exist." The Emperor gave a guarded answer. He
declared that he loved the Poles, he commended them for their
patriotism, which was "the first duty of civilized man," but added
that only by a unanimous effort could they now compel their enemies to
recognize their rights; and that, having guaranteed the integrity of
the Austrian Empire, he could not sanction any movement which would
disturb its remaining Polish provinces. This diplomatic reply chilled
his auditors. But what would have been their feelings had they known
that the calling of the Diet at Warsaw, and the tone of its address
to Napoleon; had all been sketched out five weeks before by the
imperial stage manager himself? Yet such was the case.

The scene-shifter was the Abbé de Pradt, Archbishop of Malines, whom
Napoleon sent as ambassador to Warsaw, with elaborate instructions as
to the summoning of the Diet, the whipping-up of Polish enthusiasm,
the revolutionizing of Russian Poland, and the style of the address to
him. Nay, his passion for the regulation of details even led him to
inform the ambassador that the imperial reply would be one of praise
of Polish patriotism and of warning that Polish liberty could only be
won by their "zeal and their efforts." The trickery was like that
which he had played upon the Poles shortly before Eylau. In effect, he
said now, as then: "Pour out your blood for me first, and I will do
something for you." But on this occasion the scenic setting was more
impressive, the rush of the Poles to arms more ardent, the diplomatic
reply more astutely postponed, and the finale more awful.[262]

Still, the Poles marched on; but their devotion became more
questioning. The feelings of the Lithuanians were also ruffled by
Napoleon's reply to the Polish deputies: nor were they consoled by his
appointment of seven magnates to regulate the affairs of the districts
of Lithuania, under the ægis of French commissioners, who proved to be
the real governors. Worst of all was the marauding of Napoleon's
troops, who, after their long habituation to the imperial maxim that
"war must support war," could not now see the need of enduring the
pangs of hunger in order that Lithuanian enthusiasm might not cool.

[Illustration: COMPAIGN IN RUSSIA]

Meanwhile the war had not progressed altogether as he desired. His aim
had been to conceal his advance across the Niemen, to surprise the two
chief Russian armies while far separated, and thus to end the war on
Lithuanian soil by a blow such as he had dealt at Friedland. The
Russian arrangements seemed to favour his plan. Their two chief
arrays, that led by the Czar and by General Barclay de Tolly, some
125,000 strong north of Vilna, and that of Prince Bagration mustering
now about 45,000 effectives, in the province of Volhynia, were
labouring to carry out the strategy devised by Phull. The former was
directly to oppose the march of Napoleon's main army, while the
smaller Russian force was to operate on its flanks and rear. Such a
plan could only have succeeded in the good old times when war was
conducted according to ceremonious etiquette; it courted destruction
from Napoleon. At Vilna the Emperor directed the movements that were
to ensnare Bagration. Already he had urged on the march of Davoust,
who was to circle round from the north, and the advance of Jerome
Bonaparte's Westphalians, who were bidden to hurry on eastwards from
the town of Grodno on the Upper Niemen. Their convergence would drive
Bagration into the almost trackless marshes of the Pripet, whence his
force would emerge, if at all, as helpless units.

Such was Napoleon's plan, and it would have succeeded but for a
miscalculation in the time needed for Jerome's march. Napoleon
underrated the difficulties of his advance or else overrated his
brother's military capacity. The King of Westphalia was delayed a few
days at Grodno by bad weather and other difficulties; thus Bagration,
who had been ordered by the Czar to retire, was able to escape the
meshes closing around him by a speedy retreat to Bobruisk, whence he
moved northwards. Napoleon was enraged at this loss of a priceless
opportunity, and addressed vehement reproaches to Jerome for his
slowness and "small-mindedness." The youngest of the Bonapartes
resented this rebuke which ignored the difficulties besetting a rapid
advance. The prospect of being subjected to that prince of martinets,
Davoust, chafed his pride; and, throwing up his command, he forthwith
returned to the pleasures of Cassel.

By great good fortune, Bagration's force had escaped from the snares
strewn in its path by the strategy of Phull and the counter-moves of
Napoleon. The fickle goddess also favoured the rescue of the chief
Russian army from imminent peril at Drissa. In pursuance of Phull's
scheme, the Czar and Barclay de Tolly fell back with that army towards
the intrenched camp on the Dwina. But doubts had already begun to
haunt their minds as to the wisdom of Phull's plans. In fact, the bias
of Barclay's nature was towards the proven and the practical. He came
of a Scottish family which long ago had settled in Livonia, and had
won prosperity and esteem in the trade of Riga. His ancestry and his
early surroundings therefore disposed him to the careful weighing of
evidence and distrust of vague theories. His thoroughness in military
organization during the war in Finland and his unquestioned probity
and open-mindedness, had recently brought him high into favour with
the Czar, who made him War Minister. He had no wide acquaintance with
the science of warfare, and has been judged altogether deficient in a
wide outlook on events and in those masterly conceptions which mark
the great warrior.[263] But nations are sometimes ruined by lofty
genius, while at times they may be saved by humdrum prudence; and
Barclay's common sense had no small share in saving Russia.

Two months before the Grand Army passed the Niemen, he had expressed
the hope that God would send retreat to the Russian armies; and we may
safely attribute to his influence with the Czar the timely order to
Bagration to desist from flanking tactics and beat a retreat while yet
there was time. That portion of Phull's strategy having signally
failed, Alexander naturally became more suspicious about the Drissa
plan; and during the retirement from Vilna, he ordered a survey of the
works to be made by Phull's adjutant, a young German named Clausewitz,
who was destined to win a name as an authority in strategy. This
officer was unable conscientiously to present a cheering report. He
found the camp deficient in many respects. Nevertheless, Alexander
still clung to the hope of checking the French advance before these
great intrenchments.

On his arrival there, on July 8th, this hope also was dashed. Michaud,
a young Sardinian engineer, pointed out several serious defects in
their construction. Barclay also protested against shutting up a large
part of the defending army in a camp which could easily be blockaded
by Napoleon's vast forces. Finally, as the Russian reserves stationed
there proved to be disappointingly weak both in numbers and
efficiency, the Czar determined to evacuate the camp, intrust the sole
command to Barclay, and retire to his northern capital. It is said
that, before he left the army, the Grand Duke Constantine, a friend of
the French cause, made a last effort to induce him to come to terms
with Napoleon, now that the plan of campaign had failed. If so,
Alexander repelled the attempt. Pride as a ruler and a just resentment
against Napoleon prevented any compromise; and probably he now saw
that safety for himself and ruin for his foe lay in the firm adoption
of that Fabian policy of retreat and delay, which Scharnhorst had
advocated and Barclay was now determined to carry out.

Though still hampered by the intrigues of Constantine, Bennigsen, and
other generals, who hated him as a foreigner and feigned to despise
him as a coward, Barclay at once took the step which he had long felt
to be necessary; he ordered a retreat which would bring him into touch
with Bagration. Accordingly, leaving Wittgenstein with 25,000 men to
hold Oudinot's corps in check on the middle Dwina, he marched
eastwards towards Vitepsk. True, he left St. Petersburg open to
attack; but it was not likely that Napoleon, when the summer was far
spent, would press so far north and forego his usual plan of striking
at the enemy's chief forces. He would certainly seek to hinder the
junction of the two Russian armies, as soon as he saw that this was
Barclay's aim. Such proved to be the case. Napoleon soon penetrated
his design, and strove to frustrate it by a rapid move from Vilna
towards Polotsk on Barclay's flank, but he failed to cut into his line
of march, and once more had to pursue.

Despite the heavy shrinkage in the Grand Army caused by a remorseless
rush through a country wellnigh stripped of supplies, the Emperor
sought to force on a general engagement. He hoped to catch Barclay at
Vitepsk. "The whole Russian army is at Vitepsk--we are on the eve of
great events," he writes on July 25th. But the Russians skilfully
withdrew by night from their position in front of that town, which he
entered on July 28th. Chagrined and perplexed, the chief stays a
fortnight to organize supplies and stores, while his vanguard presses
on to envelop the Russians at Smolensk. Again his hopes revive when he
hears that Barclay and Bagration are about to join near that city. In
fact, those leaders there concluded that strategic movement to the
rear which was absolutely necessary if they were not to be overwhelmed
singly. They viewed the retreat in a very different light. To the
cautious Barclay it portended a triumph long deferred, but sure: while
the more impulsive Muscovite looked upon the constant falling back as
a national disgrace.

The feelings of the soldiery also forbade a spiritless abandonment of
the holy city of the Upper Dnieper that stands as sentinel to Russia
Proper. On these feelings Napoleon counted, and rightly. He was now in
no haste to strike: the blow must be crushing and final. At last he
hears that Davoust, the leader whose devotion and methodical
persistence merit his complete trust, has bridged the River Dnieper
below the city, and has built ovens for supplying the host with bread.
And having now drawn up troops and supplies from the rear, he pushes
on to end the campaign.

Barclay was still for retreat; but religious sentiment and patriotism
bade the defenders stand firm behind those crumbling walls, while
Bagration secured the line of retreat. The French, ranged
around on the low hills which ring it on the south, looked for an easy
triumph, and Napoleon seems to have felt an excess of confidence. At
any rate, his dispositions were far from masterly. He made no serious
effort to threaten the Russian communications with Moscow, nor did he
wait for his artillery to overwhelm the ramparts and their defenders.
The corps of Ney, Davoust, and Poniatowski, with Murat's cavalry and
the Imperial Guard posted in reserve, promised an easy victory, and
the dense columns of foot moved eagerly to the assault. They were
received with a terrific fire. Only after three hours' desperate
fighting did they master the southern suburbs, and at nightfall the
walls still defied their assaults. Yet in the meantime Napoleon's
cannon had done their work. The wooden houses were everywhere on fire;
a speedy retreat alone could save the garrison from ruin; and amidst a
whirlwind of flame and smoke Barclay drew off his men to join
Bagration on the road to Moscow (August 17th).

Once more, then, the Russian army had slipped from Napoleon's grasp,
though this time it dealt him a loss of 12,000 in killed or wounded.
And the momentous question faced him whether he should halt, now that
summer was on the wane, or snatch under the walls of Moscow the
triumph which Vilna, Vitepsk, and Smolensk had promised and denied. It
is stated by that melodramatic narrator, Count Philip Ségur, that on
entering Vitepsk, the Emperor exclaimed: "The campaign of 1812 is
ended, that of 1813 will do the rest." But the whole of Napoleon's
"Correspondence" refutes the anecdote. Besides, it was not Napoleon's
habit to go into winter quarters in July, or to rest before he had
defeated the enemy's main army.[264]

At Smolensk the question wore another aspect. Napoleon told Metternich
at Dresden that he would not in the present year advance beyond
Smolensk, but would organize Lithuania during winter and advance again
in the spring of 1813, adding: "My enterprise is one of those of which
the solution is to be found in patience." A policy of masterly
inactivity certainly commended itself to his Marshals. But the desire
to crush the enemy's rear drew Ney and Murat into a sharp affair at
Valutino or Lubino: the French lost heavily, but finally gained the
position: and the hope that the foe were determined to fight the
decisive battle at Dorogobuzh lured Napoleon on, despite his earlier
decision.[265] Besides, his position seemed less hazardous than it was
before Austerlitz. The Grand Army was decidedly superior to the united
forces of Barclay and Bagration. On the Dwina, Oudinot held the
Russians at bay; and when he was wounded, his successor, Gouvion St.
Cyr, displayed a tactical skill which enabled him easily to foil a
mere fighter like Wittgenstein. On the French right flank, affairs
were less promising; for the ending of the Russo-Turkish war now left
the Russian army of the Pruth free to march into Volhynia. But, for
the present, Napoleon was able to summon up strong reserves under
Victor, and assure his rear.

With full confidence, then, he pressed onwards to wrest from Fortune
one last favour. It was granted to him at Borodino. There the Russians
made a determined stand. National jealousy of Barclay, inflamed by his
protracted retreat, had at last led to his being superseded by
Kutusoff; and, having about 110,000 troops, the old fighting general
now turned fiercely to bay. His position on the low convex curve of
hills that rise behind the village of Borodino was of great strength.
On his right was the winding valley of the Kolotza, an affluent of the
Moskwa, and before his centre and left the ground sloped down to a
stream. On this more exposed side the Russians had hastily thrown up
earthworks, that at the centre being known as the Great Redoubt,
though it had no rear defences.

Napoleon halted for two days, until his gathering forces mustered some
125,000 men, and he now prepared to end the war at a blow. After
surveying the Russian position, he saw Kutusoff's error in widely
extending his lines to the north; and while making feints on that
side, so as to prevent any concentration of the Muscovite array, he
planned to overwhelm the more exposed centre and left, by the assaults
of Davoust and Poniatowski on the south, and of Ney's corps and
Eugène's Italians on the redoubts at the centre. Davoust begged to be
allowed to outflank the Russian left; but Napoleon refused, perhaps
owing to a fear that the Russians might retreat early in the day, and
decided on dealing direct blows at the left and centre. As the 7th of
September dawned with all the splendour of a protracted summer, cannon
began to thunder against the serried arrays ranged along the opposing
slopes, and Napoleon's columns moved against the redoubts and woods
that sheltered the Muscovite lines. The defence was most obstinate.
Time after time the smaller redoubts were taken and retaken; and
while, on the French right centre, the tide of battle surged up and
down the slope, the Great Redoubt dealt havoc among Eugène's Italians,
who bravely but, as it seemed, hopelessly struggled up that fatal
rise.

Then was seen a soul-stirring sight. Of a sudden, a mass of
Cuirassiers rushed forth from the invaders' ranks, flung itself
uphill, and girdled the grim earthwork with a stream of flashing steel
There, for a brief space, it was stayed by the tough Muscovite lines,
until another billow of horsemen, marshalled by Grouchy and Chastel,
swept all before it, took the redoubt on its weak reverse, and
overwhelmed its devoted defenders.[266] In vain did the Russian
cavalry seek to save the day: Murat's horsemen were not to be denied,
and Kutusoff was at last fain to draw back his mangled lines, but
slowly and defiantly, under cover of a crushing artillery fire.

Thus ended the bloodiest fight of the century. For several hours 800
cannon had dealt death among the opposing masses; the Russians lost
about 40,000 men, and, whatever Napoleon said in his bulletins, the
rents in his array were probably nearly as great. He has been censured
for not launching his Guard at the wavering foe at the climax of the
fight; and the soldiery loudly blamed its commander, Bessières, for
dissuading his master from this step. But to have sacrificed those
veterans to Russian cannon would have been a perilous act.[267] His
Guard was the solid kernel of his army: on it he could always rely,
even when French regulars dissolved, as often happened after long
marches, into bands of unruly marauders; and its value was to be found
out during the retreat. More fitly may Napoleon be blamed for not
seeking earlier in the day to turn the Russian left, and roll that
long line up on the river. Here, as at Smolensk, he resorted to a
frontal attack, which could only yield success at a frightful cost.
The day brought little glory to the generals, except to Ney, Murat,
and Grouchy. For his valour in the _mêlée_, Ney received the title of
Prince de la Moskwa.

A week before this Pyrrhic triumph, Napoleon had heard of a terrible
reverse to French arms in Spain. His old friend, Marmont, who had won
the Marshal's baton after Wagram, measured his strength with
Wellington in the plains of Leon with brilliant success until a false
move near Salamanca exposed him to a crushing rejoinder, and sent his
army flying back towards Burgos. Madrid was now uncovered and was
occupied for a time by the English army (August 13th). Thus while
Napoleon was gasping at Moscow, his brother was expelled from Madrid,
until the recall of Soult from Andalusia gave the French a superiority
in the centre of Spain which forced Wellington to retire to Ciudad
Rodrigo. He lost the fruits of his victory, save that Andalusia was
freed: but he saved his army for the triumphant campaign of 1813. Had
Napoleon shown the like prudence by beating a timely retreat from
Moscow, who can say that the next hard-fought fights in Silesia and
Saxony would not have once more crowned his veterans with decisive
triumph?

As it was, the Grand Army toiled on through heat, dust, and the smoke
of burning villages, to gain peace and plenty at Moscow. But when, on
September the 14th, the conqueror entered that city with his vanguard,
solitude reigned almost unbroken. A few fanatics, clinging to the
tradition that the Kremlin was impregnable, idly sought to defend it;
but troops, officials, nobles, merchants, and the great mass of the
people were gone, and the military stores had been burnt or removed.
Rostopchin, the governor, had released the prisoners and broken the
fire engines. Flames speedily burst forth, and Bausset, the Prefect of
Napoleon's Palace, affirms that while looking forth from the Kremlin
he saw the flames burst forth in several districts in quick
succession; and that a careful examination of cellars often proved
them to be stored with combustibles, vitriol in one case being
swallowed by a French soldier who took it for brandy! If all this be
true, it proves that the Muscovites were determined to fire their
capital. But their writers have as stoutly affirmed that the fires
were caused by French and Polish plunderers.[268] Three days later,
the powers of the air and the demons of drink and frenzy raged
uncontrolled; and Napoleon himself barely escaped from the whirlwinds
of flame that enveloped the Kremlin and nearly scorched to death the
last members of his staff. For several hours the conflagration was
fanned by an equinoctial gale, and when, on the 20th, it died down,
convicts or plunderers kindled it anew.

Yet the army did not want for shelter, and, as Sergeant Bourgogne
remarks, if every house had been gutted there were still the caves and
cellars that promised protection from the cold of winter. The real
problem was now, as ever, the food-supply. The Russians had swept the
district wellnigh bare; and though the Grand Army feasted for a
fortnight on dainties and drink, yet bread, flour, and meat were soon
very scarce. In vain did the Emperor seek to entice the inhabitants
back; they knew the habits of the invaders only too well; and despite
several distant raids, which sometimes cost the French dear, the
soldiery began to suffer.

October wore on with delusive radiance, but brought no peace. Soon
after the great conflagration at Moscow, Napoleon sent secret and
alluring overtures to Alexander, offering to leave Russia a free hand
in regard to Turkey, inclusive of Constantinople, which he had
hitherto strictly reserved, and hinting that Polish affairs might also
be arranged to the Czar's liking.[269] But Alexander refused tamely to
accept the fruits of victory from the man who, he believed, had burnt
holy Moscow, and clung to his vow never to treat with his rival as
long as a single French soldier stood on Russian soil. His resolve
saved Europe. Yet it cost him much to defy the great conqueror to the
death: he had so far feared the capture of St. Petersburg as to
request that the Cronstadt fleet might be kept in safety in
England.[270] But gradually he came to see that the sacrifice of
Moscow had saved his empire and lured Napoleon to his doom. Kutusoff
also played a waiting game. Affecting a wish for peace, he was about
secretly to meet Napoleon's envoy, Lauriston, when the Russian
generals and our commissioner, Sir R. Wilson, intervened, and required
that it should be a public step. It seems likely, however, that
Kutusoff was only seeking to entrap the French into barren
negotiations; he knew that an answer could not come from the banks of
the Neva until winter began to steal over the northern steppes.

Slowly the truth begins to dawn on Napoleon that Moscow is not _the
heart of Russia_, as he had asserted to De Pradt that it was.
Gradually he sees that that primitive organism had no heart, that its
almost amorphous life was widespread through myriads of village
communes, vegetating apart from Moscow or Petersburg, and that his
march to the old capital was little more than a sword-slash through a
pond.[271] Had he set himself to study with his former care the real
nature of the hostile organism, he would certainly never have ventured
beyond Smolensk in the present year. But he had now merged the thinker
in the conqueror, and--sure sign of coming disaster--his mind no
longer accurately gauged facts, it recast them in its own mould.

By long manipulation of men and events, it had framed a dogma of
personal infallibility. This vice had of late been growing on him
apace. It was apparent even in trifles. The Countess Metternich
describes how, early in 1810, he persisted in saying that Kaunitz was
her brother, in spite of her frequent disclaimers of that honour; and,
somewhat earlier, Marmont noticed with half-amused dismay that when
the Emperor gave a wrong estimate of the numbers of a certain corps,
no correction had the slightest effect on him; his mind always
reverted to the first figure. In weightier matters this peculiarity
was equally noticeable. His clinging to preconceived notions, however
unfair or burdensome they were to Britain, Prussia, or Austria, had
been the underlying cause of his wars with those Powers. And now this
same defect, burnt into his being by the blaze of a hundred victories,
held him to Moscow for five weeks, in the belief that Russia was
stricken unto death, and that the facile Czar whom he had known at
Tilsit would once more bend the knee. An idle hope. "I have learnt to
know him now," said the Czar, "Napoleon or I; I or Napoleon; we cannot
reign side by side." Buoyed up by religious faith and by his people's
heroism, Alexander silently defied the victor of Moscow and rebuked
Kutusoff for receiving the French envoy.

At last, on October 18th, the Russians threw away the scabbard and
surprised Murat's force some forty miles south of Moscow, inflicting a
loss of 3,000 men. But already, a day or two earlier, Napoleon had
realized the futility of his hope of peace and had resolved to
retreat. The only alternative was to winter at Moscow, and he judged
that the state of French and Spanish affairs rendered such a course
perilous. He therefore informed Maret that the Grand Army would go
into winter quarters between the Dnieper and the Dwina.[272]

There is no hint in his letters that he anticipated a disastrous
retreat. The weather hitherto had been "as fine as that at
Fontainebleau in September," and he purposed retiring by a more
southerly route which had not been exhausted by war. Full of
confidence, then, he set out on the 19th, with 115,000 men, persuaded
that he would easily reach friendly Lithuania and his winter quarters
"before severe cold set in." The veil was rudely torn from his eyes
when, south of Malo-Jaroslavitz, his Marshals found the Russians so
strongly posted that any further attack seemed to be an act of folly.
Eugène's corps had suffered cruelly in an obstinate fight in and
around that town, and the advice of Berthier, Murat, and Bessières was
against its renewal. For an hour or more the Emperor sat silently
gazing at a map. The only prudent course now left was to retreat north
and then west by way of Borodino, _over his devastated line of
advance_.[273] Back, then, towards Borodino the army mournfully
trudged (October 26th):

    "Everywhere (says Labaume) we saw wagons abandoned for want of
    horses to draw them. Those who bore along with them the spoils of
    Moscow trembled for their riches; but we were disquieted most of
    all at seeing the deplorable state of our cavalry. The villages
    which had but lately given us shelter were level with the ground:
    under their ashes were the bodies of hundreds of soldiers and
    peasants.... But most horrible was the field of Borodino, where we
    saw the forty thousand men, who had perished there, yet lying
    unburied."

For a time, Kutusoff forbore to attack the sore-stricken host; but,
early in November, the Russian horse began to infest the line of
march, and at Viasma their gathering forces were barely held off: had
Kutusoff aided his lieutenants, he might have decimated his famished
foes.

Hitherto the weather had been singularly mild and open, so much so
that the superstitious peasants looked on it as a sign that God was
favouring Napoleon. But, at last, on November the 6th, the first storm
of winter fell on the straggling array, and completed its miseries.
The icy blasts struck death to the hearts of the feeble; and the puny
fighting of man against man was now merged in the awful struggle
against the powers of the air. Drifts of snow blotted out the
landscape; the wandering columns often lost the road and thousands
forthwith ended their miseries. Except among the Old Guard all
semblance of military order was now lost, and battalions melted away
into groups of marauders.

The search for food and fuel became furious, even when the rigour of
the cold abated. The behaviour of Bourgogne, a sergeant in the
Imperial Guard, may serve to show by what shifts a hardy masterful
nature fought its way through the wreckage of humanity around: "If I
could meet anybody in the world with a loaf, I would make him give me
half--nay, I would kill him so as to get the whole." These were his
feelings: he acted on them by foraging in the forest and seizing a pot
in which an orderly was secretly cooking potatoes for his general.
Bourgogne made off with the potatoes, devoured most of them
half-boiled, returned to his comrades and told them he had found
nothing. Taking his place near their fire, he scooped out his bed in
the snow, lay under his bearskin, and clasped his now precious
knapsack, while the others moaned with hunger. Yet, as his narrative
shows, he was not naturally a heartless man: in such a situation man
is apt to sink to the level of the wolf. The best food obtainable was
horseflesh, and hungry throngs rushed at every horse that fell,
disputing its carcass with the packs of dogs or wolves that hung about
the line of march.[274]

Smolensk was now the thought dearest to every heart; and, buoyed with
the hope of rest and food, the army tottered westwards as it had
panted eastwards through the fierce summer heats with Moscow as its
cynosure. The hope that clung about Smolensk was but a cruel mirage.
The wreck of that city offered poor shelter; the stores were exhausted
by the vanguard; and, to the horror of Eugène's Italians, men swarmed
out of that fancied abode of plenty and pounced on every horse that
stumbled to its doom on the slippery banks of the Dnieper. With
inconceivable folly, Napoleon, or his staff, had provided no means for
roughing the horses' shoes. The Cossacks, when they knew this,
exclaimed to Wilson: "God has made Napoleon forget that there was a
winter here."

Disasters now thickened about the Grand Army. During his halt at
Smolensk (November 9th-14th), Napoleon heard that Victor's force on
the Dwina had been worsted by the Russians, and there was ground for
fearing that the Muscovite army of the Ukraine would cut into the line
of retreat. The halt at Smolensk also gave time for Kutusoff to come
up parallel with the main force, and had he pressed on with ordinary
speed and showed a tithe of his wonted pugnacity, he might have
captured the Grand Army and its leader. As it was, his feeble attack
on the rearguard at Krasnoe only gave Ney an opportunity of showing
his dauntless courage. The "bravest of the brave" fought his way
through clouds of Cossacks, crossed the Dnieper, though with the loss
of all his guns, and rejoined the main body. Napoleon was greatly
relieved on hearing of the escape of this Launcelot of the Imperial
chivalry. He ordered cannon to be fired at suitable intervals so as to
forward the news if it were propitious; and on hearing their distant
boomings, he exclaimed to his officers: "I have more than 400,000,000
francs in the cellars of the Tuileries, and would gladly have given
the whole for the ransom of my faithful companion in arms."[275]

Far greater was the danger at the River Beresina. The Russian army of
the south had seized the bridge at Borisoff on which Napoleon's safety
depended, and Oudinot vainly struggled to wrest it back. The
Muscovites burnt it under his eyes. Such was the news which Napoleon
heard at Bobr on November 24th. It staggered him; for, with his usual
excess of confidence, he had destroyed his pontoons on the banks of
the Dnieper; and now there was no means of crossing a river, usually
insignificant, but swollen by floods and bridged only by half-thawed
ice. Yet French resource was far from vanquished. General Corbineau,
finding from some peasants that the river was fordable three leagues
above Borisoff, brought the news to Oudinot, who forthwith prepared to
cross there. Napoleon, coming up on the 26th, approved the plan, and
cheeringly said to his Marshal, "Well, you shall be my locksmith and
open that passage for me."[276]

To deceive the foe, the Emperor told off a regiment or two southwards
with a long tail of camp-followers that were taken to be an army. And
this wily move, harmonizing with recent demonstrations of the
Austrians on the side of Minsk, convinced the Muscovite leader that
Napoleon was minded to clasp hands with them.[277] While the Russians
patrolled the river on the south, French sappers were working, often
neck deep in the water, to throw two light bridges across the stream
higher up. By heroic toil, which to most of them brought death, the
bridges were speedily finished, and, as the light of November 26th was
waning Oudinot's corps of 7,000 men gained a firm footing on the
homeward side. But they were observed by Russian scouts, and when on
the next day Napoleon and other corps had struggled across, the enemy
came up, captured a whole division, and on the morrow strove to hurl
the invaders into the river. Victor and the rearguard staunchly kept
them at bay; but at one point the Russian army of the Dwina
temporarily gained ground and swept the bridges and their approaches
with artillery fire.

Then the panic-stricken throngs of wounded and stragglers, women and
camp-followers, writhed and fought their way until the frail planks
were piled high with living and dead. To add to the horrors, one
bridge gave way under the weight of the cannon. The rush for the one
remaining bridge became yet more frantic and the day closed amidst
scenes of unspeakable woe. Stout swimmers threw themselves into the
stream, only to fall victims to the ice floes and the numbing cold. At
dawn of the 29th, the French rearguard fired the bridge to cover the
retreat. Then a last, loud wail of horror arose from the farther bank,
and despair or a loathing of life drove many to end their miseries in
the river or in the flames.

Such was the crossing of the Beresina. The ghastly tale was told once
more with renewed horrors when the floods of winter abated and laid
bare some 12,000 corpses along the course of that fatal stream. It
would seem that if Napoleon, or his staff, had hurried on the
camp-followers to cross on the night of the 27th to the 28th, those
awful scenes would not have happened, for on that night the bridges
_were not used at all_. Grosser carelessness than this cannot be
conceived; and yet, even after this shocking blunder, the devotion of
the soldiers to their chief found touching expression. When he was
suffering from cold in the wretched bivouac west of the river,
officers went round calling for dry wood for his fire; and shivering
men were seen to offer precious sticks, with the words, "Take it for
the Emperor."[278]

On that day Napoleon wrote to Maret that possibly he would leave the
army and hurry on to Paris. His presence there was certainly needed,
if his crown was to be saved. On November 6th, the day of the first
snowstorm, he heard of the Quixotic attempt of a French republican,
General Malet, to overthrow the Government at Paris. With a handful of
followers, but armed with a false report of Napoleon's capture in
Russia, this man had apprehended several officials, until the scheme
collapsed of sheer inanity.[279] "How now, if we were at Moscow,"
exclaimed the Emperor, on hearing this curious news; and he saw with
chagrin that some of his generals merely shrugged their shoulders.
After crossing the Beresina, he might hope that the worst was over and
that the stores at Vilna and Kovno would suffice for the remnant of
his army. The cold for a time had been less rigorous. The behaviour of
Prussia and Austria was, in truth, more important than the conduct of
the retreat. Unless those Powers were kept to their troth, not a
Frenchman would cross the Elbe.

At Smorgoni, then, on December the 5th, he informed his Marshals that
he left them in order to raise 300,000 men; and, intrusting the
command to Murat, he hurried away. His great care was to prevent the
extent of the disaster being speedily known. "Remove all strangers
from Vilna," he wrote to Maret: "the army is not fine to look upon
just now." The precaution was much needed. Frost set in once more, and
now with unending grip. Vilna offered a poor haven of refuge. The
stores were soon plundered, and, as the Cossacks drew near, Murat and
the remnant of the Grand Army decamped in pitiable panic. Amidst ever
deepening misery they struggled on, until, of the 600,000 men who had
proudly crossed the Niemen for the conquest of Russia, only 20,000
famished, frost-bitten, unarmed spectres staggered across the bridge
of Kovno in the middle of December. The auxiliary corps furnished by
Austria and Prussia fell back almost unscathed. But the remainder of
that mighty host rotted away in Russian prisons or lay at rest under
Nature's winding-sheet of snow.[280]

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIII

THE FIRST SAXON CAMPAIGN


Despite the loss of the most splendid army ever marshalled by man,
Napoleon abated no whit of his resolve to dominate Germany and dictate
terms to Russia. At Warsaw, in his retreat, he informed De Pradt that
there was but one step from the sublime _to the ridiculous_, that is,
from the advance on Moscow to the retreat. At Dresden he called on his
allies, Austria and Prussia, to repel the Russians; and at Paris he
strained every nerve to call the youth of the Empire to arms. The
summons met with a ready response: he had but to stamp his foot when
the news from East Prussia looked ominous, and an array of 350,000
conscripts was promised by the Senate (January 10th).

In truth, his genius had enthralled the mind of France. The
magnificence of his aims, his hitherto triumphant energy, and the
glamour of his European supremacy had called forth all the faculties
of the French and Italian peoples, and set them pulsating with
ecstatic activity. He knew by instinct all the intricacies of their
being, which his genius controlled with the easy decisiveness of a
master-key. The rude shock of the Russian disaster served but to
emphasize the thoroughness of his domination, and the dumb
trustfulness of his forty-three millions of subjects.

And yet their patience might well have been exhausted. His military
needs had long ago drawn in levies the year before they were legally
liable; but the mighty swirl of the Moscow campaign now sucked 150,000
lads of under twenty years of age into the devouring vortex. In the
Dutch and German provinces of his Empire the number of those who
evaded the clutches of the conscription was very large. In fact, the
number of "refractory conscripts" in the whole realm amounted to
40,000. Large bands of them ranged the woods of Brittany and La
Vendée, until mobile columns were sent to sweep them into the
barracks.

But in nearly the whole of France (Proper), Napoleon's name was still
an unfailing talisman, appealing as it did to the two strongest
instincts of the Celt, the clinging to the soil and the passion for
heroic enterprise. Thus it came about that the peasantry gave up their
sons to be "food for cannon" with the same docility that was shown by
soldiers who sank death-stricken into a snowy bed with no word of
reproach to the author of their miseries. A like obsequiousness was
shown by the officials and legislators of France, who meekly listened
to the Emperor's reproaches for their weakness in the Malet affair,
and heard with mild surprise his denunciation against republican
idealogy--_the cloudy metaphysics to which all the misfortunes of our
fair France may be attributed_. No tongue dared to utter the retort
which must have fermented in every brain.[281]

But his explanations and appeals did not satisfy every Frenchman. Many
were appalled at the frightful drain on the nation's strength. They
asked in private how the deficit of 1812 and the further expenses of
1813 were to be met, even if he allotted the communal domains to the
service of the State. They pointed to allies ruined or lost; to Spain,
where Joseph's throne still tottered from the shock of Salamanca; to
Poland, lying mangled at the feet of the Muscovites; to Italy,
desolated by the loss of her bravest sons; to the Confederation of the
Rhine, equally afflicted and less resigned; to Austria and Prussia,
where timid sovereigns and calculating Courts alone kept the peoples
true to the hated French alliance. Only by a change of system, they
averred, could the hatred of Europe be appeased, and the formation of
a new and vaster Coalition avoided. Let Napoleon cease to force his
methods of commercial warfare on the Continent: let him make peace on
honourable terms with Russia, where the chief Minister, Romantzoff,
was ready to meet him halfway: let him withdraw his garrisons from
Prussian fortresses, soothe the susceptibilities of Austria--and
events would tend to a solid and honourable peace.

To all promptings of prudence Napoleon was deaf. His instincts and his
experience of the Kings prevented him yielding on any important point.
He determined to carry on the war from the Tagus to the Vistula, to
bolster up Joseph in Spain, to keep his garrisons fast rooted in every
fortress as far east as Danzig. Russia and Prussia, he said, had more
need of peace than France. If he began by giving up towns, they would
demand kingdoms, whereas by yielding nothing he would intimidate them.
And if they did form a league, their forces would be thinly spread out
over an immense space; he would easily dispose of their armies when
they were not aided by the climate; and a single victory would undo
the clumsy knot (_ce noeud mal assorti_).[282]

In truth, if he left Spain out of his count, the survey of the
military position was in many ways reassuring. England's power was
enfeebled by the declaration of war by the United States. In Central
Europe his position was still commanding. He held nearly all the
fortresses of Prussia, and though he had lost a great army, that loss
was spread out very largely over Poles, Germans, Italians, and smaller
peoples. Many of the best French troops and all his ablest generals
had survived. His Guard could therefore be formed again, and the
brains of his army were also intact. The war had brought to light no
military genius among the Russians; and all his past experience of the
"old coalition machines" warranted the belief that their rusty
cogwheels, even if oiled by English subsidies, would clank slowly
along and break down at the first exceptional strain. Such had been
the case at Marengo, at Austerlitz, at Friedland. Why should not
history repeat itself?

While he was guiding his steps solely by the light of past experience,
events were occurring that heralded the dawn of a new era for Central
Europe. On the 30th of December, the Prussian General Yorck, who led
the Prussian corps serving previously under Macdonald in Courland,
concluded the Convention of Tauroggen with the Russians, stipulating
that this corps should hold the district around Memel and Tilsit as
neutral territory, until Frederick William's decision should be known.
Strictly considered, this convention was a grave breach of
international law and an act of treachery towards Napoleon. The King
at first viewed it in that light; but to all his subjects it seemed a
noble and patriotic action. To continue the war with Russia for the
benefit of Napoleon would have been an act of political suicide.

Yet, for some weeks, Frederick William waited on events; and these
events decided for war, not against Russia, but against France. The
Prussian Chancellor, Hardenberg, did his best to hoodwink the French
at Berlin, and quietly to play into the hands of the ardent German
patriots. After publishing an official rebuke to Yorck, he secretly
sent Major Thile to reassure him. He did more: in order to rescue the
King from French influence, still paramount at Berlin, he persuaded
him to set out for Breslau, on the pretext of raising there another
contingent for service under Napoleon. The ruse completely succeeded:
it deceived the French ambassador, St. Marsan: it fooled even Napoleon
himself. With his now invariable habit of taking for granted that
events would march according to his word of command, the Emperor
assumed that this was for the raising of the corps of 30,000 men which
he had requested Frederick William to provide, and said to Prince
Hatzfeld (January 29th): "Your King is going to Breslau: I think it a
timely step." Such was Napoleon's frame of mind, even after he heard
of Yorck's convention with the Russians. That event he considered "the
worst occurrence that could happen." Yet neither that nor the
patriotic ferment in Prussia reft the veil from his eyes. He still
believed that the Prussians would follow their King, and that the King
would obey him. On February the 3rd he wrote to Maret, complaining
that 2,000 Prussian horsemen were shutting themselves up in Silesian
towns, "as if they were afraid of us, instead of helping us and
covering their country."

Once away from Berlin, Frederick William found himself launched on a
resistless stream of national enthusiasm. At heart he was no less a
patriot than the most ardent of the university students; but he knew
far better than they the awful risks of war with the French Empire.
His little kingdom of 4,700,000 souls, with but half-a-dozen
strongholds it could call its own, a realm ravaged by Napoleon's
troops alike in war and peace until commerce and credit were but a dim
memory--such a land could ill afford to defy an empire ten times as
populous and more than ten times as powerful. True, the Russians were
pouring in under the guise of friendship; but the bitter memories of
Tilsit forbade any implicit trust in Alexander. And, if the dross had
been burnt out of his nature by a year of fiery trial, could his army,
exhausted by that frightful winter campaign and decimated by the
diseases which Napoleon's ghastly array scattered broadcast in its
flight, ever hope, even with the help of Prussia's young levies, to
cope with the united forces of Napoleon and Austria?

For at present it seemed that the Court of Vienna would hold fast to
the French alliance. There Metternich was all-powerful, and the
keystone of his system was a guarded but profit-seeking subservience
to Napoleon. Not that the Emperor Francis and he loved the French
potentate; but they looked on him now as a pillar of order, as a
barrier against Jacobinism in France, against the ominous
pan-Germanism preached by Prussian enthusiasts, and against Muscovite
aggandizement in Turkey and Poland. Great was their concern, first at
the Russo-Turkish peace which installed the Muscovites at the northern
mouth of the Danube, and still more at the conquering swoops of the
Russian eagle on Warsaw and Posen. How could they now hope to gain
from Turkey the set-off to the loss of Tyrol and Illyria on which they
had recently been counting, and how save any of the Polish lands from
the grip of Russia? For the present Russia was more to be feared than
Napoleon. Her influence seemed the more threatening to the policy of
balance on which the fortunes of the Hapsburgs were delicately poised.

Only by degrees were these fears and jealousies laid to rest. It
needed all the address of a British envoy, Lord Walpole, who repaired
secretly to Vienna and held out the promise of tempting gains, to
assuage these alarms, and turn Austria's gaze once more on her lost
provinces, Tyrol, Illyria, and Venetia. For the present, however,
nothing came of these overtures; and when the French discovered
Walpole's presence at Vienna, Metternich begged him to leave.[283]

For the present, then, Austria assumed a neutral attitude. A truce was
concluded with Russia, and a special envoy was sent to Paris to
explain the desire of the Emperor Francis to act as mediator, with a
view to the conclusion of a general peace. The latest researches into
Austrian policy show that the Kaiser desired an honourable peace for
all parties concerned, and that Metternich may have shared his views.
But, early in the negotiations, Napoleon showed flashes of distrust as
to the sincerity of his father-in-law, and Austria gradually changed
her attitude. The change was to be fatal to Napoleon. But the question
whether it was brought about by Napoleon's obstinacy, or Metternich's
perfidy, or the force of circumstances, must be postponed for the
present, while we consider events of equal importance and of greater
interest.

While Austria balanced and Frederick William negotiated, the sterner
minds of North Germany rushed in on the once sacred ground of
diplomacy and statecraft. The struggle against Napoleon was prepared
for by the exile Stein, and war was first proclaimed by a professor.

Among the many influences that urged on the Czar to a war for the
liberation of Prussia and Europe, not the least was that wielded at
his Court in the latter half of 1812 by the staunch German patriot,
Stein. His heroic spirit never quailed, even in the darkest hour of
Prussia's humiliation; and he now pointed out convincingly that the
only sure means of overthrowing Napoleon was to raise Germany against
him. To remain on a tame defensive at Warsaw would be to court another
French invasion in 1813. The safety of Russia called for a pursuit of
the French beyond the Elbe and a rally of the Germans against the man
they detested. The appeal struck home. It revived Alexander's longings
for the liberation of Europe, which he had buried at Tilsit; and it
agreed with the promptings of an ambitious statecraft. Only by
overthrowing Napoleon's supremacy in Germany could the Czar gain a
free hand for a lasting settlement of the Polish Question. The eastern
turn given to his policy in 1807 was at an end--but not before Russia
had taken another step towards the Bosphorus. With one leg planted at
the mouth of the Danube, the Colossus now prepared to stride over
Central Europe. The aims of Catherine II. in 1792 were at last to be
realized. While Europe was wrestling with Revolutionary France, the
Muscovite grasp was to tighten on Poland. It is not surprising that
Alexander, on January 13th, commented on the "brilliance of the
present situation," or that he decided to press onward. He gave little
heed to the Gallophil counsels of Romantzoff or the dolorous warnings
of the German-hating Kutusoff; and, on January 18th, he empowered
Stein provisionally to administer in his name the districts of Prussia
(Proper) when occupied by Russian troops.

So irregular a proceeding could only be excused by dire necessity and
by success. It was more than excused; it was triumphantly justified.
Four days later Stein arrived at Königsberg, in company with the
patriotic poet, Arndt. The Estates, or Provincial Assemblies, of East
and West Prussia were summoned, and they heartily voted supplies for
forming a Landwehr or militia, as well as a last line of defence
called the Landsturm. This step, unique in the history of Prussia, was
taken apart from, almost in defiance of, the royal sanction: it was,
in fact, due to the masterful will of Stein, who saw that a great
popular impulse, and it alone, could overcome the inertia of King and
officials. That impulse he himself originated, and by virtue of powers
conferred on him by the Emperor Alexander. And the ball thus set
rolling at Königsberg was to gather mass and momentum until, thanks to
the powerful aid of Wellington in the South, it overthrew Napoleon at
Paris.

The action of the exile was furthered by the word of a thinker and
seer. A worthy professor at the University of Breslau, named Steffens,
had long been meditating on some means of helping his country. The
arrival of Frederick William had kindled a flame of devotion which
perplexed that modest and rather pedantic ruler. But he so far
responded to it as to allow Hardenberg to issue (February 3rd) an
appeal for volunteers to "reinforce the ranks of the old defenders of
the country." The appeal was entirely vague: it did not specify
whether they would serve against the nominal enemy, Russia, or the
real enemy, Napoleon. Pondering this weighty question, as did all good
patriots, Steffens heard, in the watches of the night, the voice of
conscience declare: "Thou must declare war against Napoleon." At his
early morning lecture on Physics, which was very thinly attended, he
told the students that he would address them at eleven on the call for
volunteers. That lecture was thronged; and to the sea of eager faces
Steffens spoke forth the thought that simmered in every brain, the
burning desire for _war with Napoleon_. He offered himself as a
recruit: 200 students from Breslau and 258 from the University of
Berlin soon flocked to the colours, and that, too, chiefly from the
classes which of yore had detested the army. Thanks to the teachings
of Fichte and the still deeper lessons of adversity, the mind of
Germany was now ranged on the side of national independence and
against an omnivorous imperialism.

Where the mind led the body followed, yet still somewhat haltingly. In
truth, the King and his officials were in a difficult position. They
distrusted the Russians, who seemed chiefly eager to force Frederick
William into war with France and to arrange the question of a frontier
afterwards. But the eastern frontier was a question of life and death
for Prussia. If Alexander kept the whole of the great Duchy of Warsaw,
the Hohenzollern States would be threatened from the east as
grievously as ever they were on the west by the French at Magdeburg.
And the Czar seemed resolved to keep the whole of Poland. He told the
Prussian envoy, Knesebeck, that, while handing over to Frederick
William the whole of Saxony, Russia must retain all the Polish lands,
a resolve which would have planted the Russian standards almost on the
banks of the Oder. Nay, more: Knesebeck detected among the Russian
officials a strong, though as yet but half expressed, longing for the
whole of Prussia east of the lower Vistula.

For his part, Frederick William cherished lofty hopes. He knew that
the Russian troops had suffered horribly from privations and disease,
that as yet they mustered only 40,000 effectives on the Polish
borders, and that they urgently needed the help of Prussia. He
therefore claimed that, if he joined Russia in a war against Napoleon,
he must recover the whole of what had been Prussian Poland, with the
exception of the district of Bialystock ceded at Tilsit.[284] It
seemed, then, that the Polish Question would once more exert on the
European concert that dissolving influence which had weakened the
Central Powers ever since the days of Valmy. Had Napoleon now sent to
Breslau a subtle schemer like Savary, the apple of discord might have
been thrown in with fatal results. But the fortunes of his Empire then
rested on a Piedmontese nobleman, St. Marsan, who showed a singular
credulity as to Prussia's subservience. He accepted all Hardenberg's
explanations (including a thin official reproof to Steffens), and did
little or nothing to countermine the diplomatic approaches of Russia.
The ground being thus left clear, it was possible for the Czar to
speak straight to the heart of Frederick William. This he now did.
Knesebeck was set aside; and Alexander, meeting the Prussian demands
halfway, promised in a treaty, signed at Kalisch on February 27th, to
leave Prussia all her present territories, and to secure for her the
equivalent, in a "statistical, financial, and geographical sense," of
the lands which she had lost since 1806, along with a territory
adapted to connect Prussia Proper with the province of Silesia.[285]

It seems certain that Stein's influence weighed much with Alexander in
this final compromise, which postponed the irritating question of the
eastern frontier and bent all the energies of two great States to the
War of Liberation. Stein was sent to Frederick William at Breslau; but
the King hardly deigned to see him, and the greatest of German
patriots was suffered to remain in a garret of that city during a
wearisome attack of fever. But he lived through disease and official
neglect as he triumphed over Slavonic intrigues; and he had at hand
that salve of many an able man--the knowledge that, even while he
himself was slighted, his plans were adopted with beneficent and
far-reaching results.

The Russo-Prussian alliance was firmly upheld by Lord Cathcart, the
British ambassador to Russia, who reached headquarters on March the
2nd. For the present, Great Britain did not definitely join the
allies; but the discussions on the Hanoverian Question, which had
previously sundered us from Prussia, soon proved that wisdom had been
learnt in the school of adversity. The Hohenzollerns now renounced all
claims to Hanover, though they showed some repugnance to our
Prince-Regent's demand that the Electorate should receive some
territorial gain.

Thus the two questions on which Napoleon had counted as certain to
clog the wheels of the Coalition, as they had done in the past, were
removed, and the way was cleared for a compact firmer than any which
Europe had hitherto known. On March 17th a Russo-Prussian Convention
was concluded at Breslau whereby those Powers agreed to deliver
Germany from France, to dissolve the Confederation of the Rhine, and
to summon the German princes and people to help them; every prince
that refused would suffer the loss of his States; and arrangements
were made for the provisional administration of the lands which the
allies should occupy. Frederick William also appealed to his people
and to his army, and instituted that coveted order of merit, the Iron
Cross.

But there was small need of appeals and decorations. The people rushed
to arms with an ardour that rivalled the _levée en masse_ of France in
1793. Nobles and students, professors and peasants, poets and
merchants, shouldered their muskets. Housewives and maidens brought
their scanty savings or their treasured trinkets as offerings for the
altar of the Fatherland. One incident deserves special notice. A girl,
Nanny by name, whose ringlets were her only wealth, shore them off,
sold them, and brought the price of them, two thalers, for the sacred
cause. A noble impulse thrilled through Germany. Volunteers came from
far, many of whom were to ride with Lützow's irregular horse in his
wild ventures. Most noteworthy of these was the gifted young poet,
Korner, a Saxon by birth, who now forsook a life of ease, radiant with
poetic promise, at the careless city of Vienna, to follow the Prussian
eagle. "A great time calls for great hearts," he wrote to his father:
"am I to write vaudevilles when I feel within me the courage and
strength for joining the actors on the stage of real life?" Alas! for
him the end was to be swift and tragic. Not long after inditing an ode
to his sword, he fell in a skirmish near Hamburg.

Germany mourned his loss; but she mourned still more that her greatest
poet, Goethe, felt no throb of national enthusiasm. The great Olympian
was too much wrapped up in his lofty speculations to spare much
sympathy for struggling mortals below: "Shake your chains, if you
will: the man (Napoleon) is too strong for you: you will not break
them." Such was his unprophetic utterance at Dresden to the elder
Korner. Men who touched the people's pulse had no such doubts. "Ah!
those were noble times," wrote Arndt: "the fresh young hope of life
and honour sang in all hearts; it echoed along every street; it rolled
majestically down every chancel." The sight of Germans thronging from
all parts into Silesia to fight for their Prussian champions awakened
in him the vision of a United Germany, which took form in the song,
"What is the German's Fatherland?"[286]

Against this ever-rising tide of national enthusiasm Napoleon pitted
the resources which Gallic devotion still yielded up to his demands.
They were surprisingly great. In less than half a year, after the loss
of half a million of men, a new army nearly as numerous was marshalled
under the imperial eagles. Thirty thousand tried troops were brought
from Spain, thereby greatly relieving the pressure on Wellington.
Italy and the garrison towns of the Empire sent forth a vast number.
But the majority were young, untrained troops; and it was remarked
that the conscripts born in the years of the Terror, 1793-4, had not
the stamina of the earlier levies. Brave they were, superbly brave;
and the Emperor sought by every means to breathe into them his own
indomitable spirit. One of them has described how, on handing them
their colours, he made a brief speech; and, at the close, rising in
his stirrups and stretching forth his hand, he shot at them the
question: "'You swear to guard them?' I felt, as we all felt, that he
snatched from our very navel the cry, 'Yes, we swear.'" Truly, the
Emperor could make boys heroes, but he could never repair the losses
of 1812. Guns he possessed to the number of a thousand in his
arsenals; but he lacked the thousands of skilled artillerymen: youths
he could find and horses he could buy: but not for many a month had he
the resistless streams of horsemen that poured over Prussia after
Jena, or swept into the Great Redoubt at Borodino. Nevertheless, the
energy which embattled a new host within five months of a seemingly
overwhelming disaster, must be considered the most extraordinary event
of an age fertile in marvels. "The imagination sinks back confounded,"
says Pasquier, "when one thinks of all the work to be done and the
resources of all kinds to be found, in order to raise, clothe, and
equip such an army in so short a time."

While immersed in this prodigious task, the Emperor heard, with some
surprise but with no dismay, the news of Prussia's armaments and
disaffection. At first he treats it as a passing freak which will
vanish with firm treatment. "Remain at Berlin as long as you can," he
writes to Eugène, March 5th. "Make examples for the sake of
discipline. At the least insult, whether from a village or a town,
were it from Berlin itself, burn it down." The chief thing that still
concerns him is the vagueness of Eugène's reports, which leave him no
option but to get news about his troops in Germany from _the English
newspapers_. "Do not forget," he writes again on March 14th, "that
Prussia has only four millions of people. She never in her most
prosperous times had more than 150,000 troops. She will not have more
than 40,000 now." That, indeed, was the number to which he had limited
her after Tilsit; and he was unable to conceive that Scharnhorst's
plan of passing men into a reserve would send triple that force into
the field.[287] As for the Russians, he writes, they are thinned by
disease, and must spread out widely in order to besiege the many
fortresses between the Vistula and the Elbe. Indeed, he assures his
ally, the King of Bavaria, that it will be good policy to let them
advance: "The farther they advance, the more certain is their ruin."
Sixty thousand troops were being led by Bertrand from Italy into
Bavaria.[288] These, along with the corps of Eugène and Davoust, would
crush the Russian columns. And, while the allies were busy in Saxony,
Napoleon proposed to mass a great force under the shelter of the Harz
Mountains, cross the Elbe near Havelberg, make a rush for the relief
of Stettin, and stretch a hand to the large French force beleaguered
at Danzig.

Such was his first plan. It was upset by the rapidity of the Cossacks
and the general uprising of Prussia. Augereau's corps was driven from
Berlin by a force of Cossacks led by Tettenborn; and this daring free
lance, a native of Hamburg, thereupon made a dash for the liberation
of his city. For the time he was completely successful: the fury of
the citizens against the French _douaniers_ gave the Cossacks and
patriots an easy triumph there and throughout Hanover. This news
caused Napoleon grave concern. The loss of the great Hanse Town opened
a wide door for English goods, English money, and English troops into
Germany. It must be closed at all costs: and, with severe rebukes to
Eugène and Lauriston, who were now holding the line of the middle
Elbe, he charged Davoust (March 18th) to hold the long winding course
of that river between Magdeburg and Hamburg. The advance of this
determined leader was soon to change the face of affairs in North
Germany.

Shortly before Napoleon left Paris for the seat of war, he received
the new Austrian ambassador, Prince Schwarzenberg (April 9th). With a
jocular courtesy that veiled the deepest irony, he complimented him on
having waged _a fine campaign in_ 1812. Austria's present requests
were not reassuring. While professing the utmost regard for the
welfare of Napoleon, she renewed her offer of mediation in a more
pressing way. In fact, Metternich's aim now was to free Austria from
the threatening pressure of Napoleon on the west and of Russia on the
east. She must now assure to Europe a lasting peace--"not a mere truce
in disguise, like all former treaties with Napoleon"--but a peace that
would restrict the power of France and "establish a balance of power
among the chief States."[289] Such was the secret aim of Austria's
mediation. Obviously, it gave her many advantages. While posing as
mediator, she could claim her share in the territorial redistribution
which must accompany the peace. The blessing awarded to the peacemaker
must be tangible and immediate.

Napoleon's reply to the ambassador was carefully guarded. War was not
to his interest. It would cost more blood than the Moscow campaign.
The great hindrance to any settlement would be England. Russia also
seemed disposed to a fight _à outrance_; but if the Czar wanted peace,
it was for him, not for France, to take the initiative: "I cannot take
the initiative: that would be like capitulating as if I were in a
fort: it is for the others to send me their proposals." And he
expressed his resolve to accept no disadvantageous terms in these
notable words: "If I concluded a dishonourable peace, it would be my
overthrow. I am a new man; I must pay the more heed to public opinion,
because I stand in need of it. The French have lively imaginations:
they love fame and excitement, and are nervous. Do you know the prime
cause of the fall of the Bourbons? It dates from Rossbach." Benevolent
assurances as to Napoleon's desire for peace and for the assembly of a
Congress were all that Schwarzenberg could gain; and his mission was
barren of result, except to increase suspicions on both sides.

In fact, Napoleon was playing his cards at Vienna. He had sent Count
Narbonne thither on a special mission, the purport of which stands
revealed in the envoy's "verbal note" of April 7th. In that note
Austria was pressed to help France with 100,000 men, against Russia
and Prussia, in case they should open hostilities; her reward was to
be the rich province of Silesia. As for the rest of Prussia, two
millions of that people were to be assigned to Saxony, Frederick
William being thrust to the east of the lower Vistula, and left with
one million subjects.[290] Such was the glittering prize dangled
before Metternich. But even the prospect of regaining the province
torn away by the great Frederick moved him not. He judged the
establishment of equilibrium in Europe to be preferable to a mean
triumph over Prussia. To her and to the Czar he had secretly held out
hopes of succour in case Napoleon should prove intractable: and to
this course of action he still clung. True, he trampled on _la petite
morale_ in neglecting to aid his nominal ally, Napoleon. But to
abandon him, if he remained obdurate, was, after all, but an act of
treachery to an individual who had slight claims on Austria, and whose
present offer was alike immoral and insulting. Four days later
Metternich notified to Russia and Prussia that the Emperor Francis
would now proceed with his task of armed mediation.[291]

Austria's overtures for a general peace met with no encouragement at
London. Her envoy, Count Wessenberg, was now treated with the same
cold reserve that had been accorded to Lord Walpole at Vienna early in
the year. On April 9th Castlereagh informed him that all hope of peace
had failed since the "Ruler of France" had declared to the Legislative
Body that _the French Dynasty reigned and would continue to reign in
Spain, and that he had already stated all the sacrifices that he could
consent to make for peace_.

    "Whilst he [Napoleon] shall continue to declare that none of the
    territories arbitrarily incorporated into the French Empire shall
    become matter of negotiation, it is in vain to hope that His
    Imperial Majesty's beneficent intentions can by negotiation be
    accomplished. It is for His Imperial Majesty to consider, after a
    declaration in the nature of a defiance from the Ruler of France,
    a declaration highly insulting to His Imperial Majesty when his
    intervention for peace had been previously accepted, whether the
    moment is not arrived for all the Great Powers of Europe to act in
    concert for their common interests and honour. To obtain for their
    States what may deserve the name of peace they must look again to
    establish an Equilibrium in Europe."

Finally, the British Government refused to lend itself to a
negotiation which must weaken and distract the efforts of Russia and
Prussia.[292]

For the present Napoleon indulged the hope that the bribe of Silesia
would range Austria's legions side by side with his own, and with
Poniatowski's Poles. Animated with this hope, he left Paris before the
dawn of April 15th; and, travelling at furious speed, his carriage
rolled within the portals of Mainz in less than forty hours. There he
stayed for a week, feeling every throb of the chief arteries of his
advance. They beat full and fast; the only bad symptom was the refusal
of Saxony to place her cavalry at his disposal. But, at the close of
the week, Austria's attitude gave him concern. It was clear that she
had not swallowed the bait of Silesia, and that her troops could not
be counted on.

At once he takes precautions. His troops in Italy are to be made
ready, the strongholds of the Upper Danube strengthened, and his
German vassals are closely to watch the policy of Vienna.[293] He then
proceeds to Weimar. There, on April 29th, he mounts his war-horse and
gazes with searching eyes into the columns that are winding through
the Thuringian vales towards Leipzig. The auguries seem favourable.
The men are full of ardour: the line of march is itself an
inspiration; and the veterans cheer the young conscripts with tales of
the great day of Jena and Auerstadt.

At the close of April the military situation was as follows. Eugène
Beauharnais, who commanded the relics of the Grand Army, after
suffering a reverse at Mockern, had retired to the line of the Elbe;
and French garrisons were thus left isolated in Danzig, Modlin,
Zamosc, Glogau, Küstrin, and Stettin.[294] Napoleon's first plan of an
advance direct to Stettin and Danzig having miscarried, he now sought
to gather an immense force as secretly as possible near the Main,
speedily to reinforce Eugène, crush the heads of the enemy's columns,
and, rolling them up in disorder, carry the war to the banks of the
Oder, and relieve his beleaguered garrisons by way of Leipzig and
Torgau. The plan would have the further advantage of bringing a
formidable force near to the Austrian frontier, and holding fast the
Hapsburgs and Saxons to the French alliance.

Meanwhile the allied army was pressing westwards with no less
determination. The Czar and King had addressed a menacing summons to
the King of Saxony to join them, but, receiving no response, invaded
his States. Thereupon Frederick Augustus fled into Bohemia, relying on
an offer from Vienna which guaranteed him his German lands if he would
join the Hapsburgs in their armed mediation.[295] For the present,
however, Saxony was to be the battlefield of the two contending
principles of nationality and Napoleonic Imperialism.

They clashed together on the historic ground of Lützen. Not only the
associations of the place, but the reputation of the leaders helped to
kindle the enthusiasm of the rank and file. On the one side was the
great conqueror himself, with faculties and prestige undimmed even by
the greatest disaster recorded in the annals of civilized nations. He
was opposed by men no less determined than himself. The illness and
finally the death of the obstinate old Kutusoff had stopped the
intrigues of the Slav peace party, hitherto strong in the Russian
camp: and the command now devolved on Wittgenstein, a more energetic
man, whose heart was in his work.

But the most inspiring influence was that of Blücher. The staunch
patriot seemed to embody the best qualities of the old _régime_ and of
the new era. The rigour learnt in the school of Frederick the Great
was vivified by the fresh young enthusiasm of the dawning age of
nationality. Not that the old soldier could appreciate the lofty
teachings of Fichte the philosopher and Schleiermacher the preacher.
But his lack of learning--he could never write a despatch without
strange torturings of his mother-tongue--was more than made up by a
quenchless love of the Fatherland, by a robust common sense, which hit
straight at the mark where subtler minds strayed off into side issues,
by a comradeship that endeared him to every private, and by a courage
that never quailed. And all these gifts, homely but invaluable in a
people's war, were wrought to utmost tension by an all-absorbing
passion, hatred of Napoleon. In the dark days after Jena, when,
pressed back to the Baltic, his brave followers succumbed to the
weight of numbers, he began to store up vials of fury against the
insolent conqueror. Often he beguiled the weary hours with lunging at
an imaginary foe, calling out--_Napoleon_. And this almost Satanic
hatred bore the old man through seven years of humiliation; it gave
him at seventy-two years of age the energy of youth; far from being
sated by triumphs in Saxony and Champagne, it nerved him with new
strength after the shocks to mind and body which he sustained at
Ligny; it carried him and his army through the miry lanes of Wavre on
to the sunset radiance of Waterloo.

What he lacked in skill and science was made up by his able
coadjutors, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the former pre-eminent in
organization, the latter in strategy. After organizing Prussia's
citizen army, it was Scharnhorst's fate to be mortally wounded in the
first battle; but his place, as chief of staff, was soon filled by
Gneisenau, in whose nature the sternness of the warrior was happily
blended with the coolness of the scientific thinker. The accord
between him and Blücher was close and cordial; and the latter, on
receiving the degree of doctor of laws from the University of Oxford,
wittily acknowledged his debt to the strategist. "Well," said he, "if
I am to be a doctor, they must make Gneisenau an apothecary; for he
makes up the pills and I then administer them."

On these resolute chiefs and their 33,000 Prussians fell the brunt of
the fighting near Lützen. Wittgenstein, with his 35,000 Russians,
showed less energy; but if a fourth Russian corps under Miloradovitch,
then on the Elster, had arrived in time, the day might have closed
with victory for the allies. Their plan was to cross a stream, called
the Floss Graben, some five miles to the south of Lützen, storm the
villages of Gross Görschen, Rahna, and Starsiedel, held by the French
vanguard, and, cutting into Napoleon's line of march towards Lützen
and Leipzig, throw it into disorder and rout. But their great enemy
had recently joined his array to that of Eugène: he was in force, and
was then planning a turning movement on the north, similar to that
which threatened his south flank. Ney, on whom fell Blücher's first
blows, had observed the preparations, and one of his divisions, that
of Souham, had strengthened the village of Gross Görschen for an
obstinate defence. The French position is thus described by Lord
Cathcart, who was then present at the allied headquarters:

    "The country is uncovered and open, but with much variety of hill
    and valley, and much intersected by hollow ways and millstreams,
    the former not discernible till closely approached. The enemy,
    placed behind a long ridge and in a string of villages, with a
    hollow way in front, and a stream sufficient to float timber on
    the left, waited the near approach of the allies. He had an
    immense quantity of ordnance: the batteries in the open country
    were supported by masses of infantry in solid squares. The plan of
    our operations was to attack Gross Görschen with artillery and
    infantry, and meanwhile to pierce the line, to the enemy's right
    of the villages, with a strong column of cavalry in order to cut
    off the troops in the villages from support.... The cavalry of the
    Prussian Reserve, to whose lot this attack fell, made it with
    great gallantry; but the showers of grapeshot and musketry to
    which they were exposed in reaching the hollow way made it
    impracticable for them to penetrate; and, the enemy appearing
    determined to hold the villages at any expense, the affair assumed
    the most expensive character of attack and defence of a post
    repeatedly taken, lost, and retaken. The cavalry made several
    attempts to break the enemy's line, and in some of their attacks
    succeeded in breaking into the squares and cutting down the
    infantry. Late in the evening, Bonaparte, having called in the
    troops from [the side of] Leipzig and collected all his reserves,
    made an attack on the right of the allies, supported by the fire
    of several batteries advancing. The vivacity of this movement made
    it expedient to change the front of our nearest brigades on our
    right; and, as the whole cavalry from our left was ordered to the
    right to turn this attack, I was not without hopes of witnessing
    the destruction of Bonaparte and of all his army; but before the
    cavalry could arrive, it became so dark that nothing could be seen
    but the flashes of the guns."[296]

The desperate fight thus closed with a slight advantage to the French,
due to the timely advance of Eugène with Macdonald's corps against the
right flank of the wearied allies, when it was too late for them to
make any counter-move. These had lost severely, and among the fallen
was Scharnhorst, whose wound proved to be mortal. But Blücher, far
from being daunted by defeat or by a wound, led seven squadrons of
horse against the victors after nightfall, threw them for a brief
space into a panic, and nearly charged up to the square which
sheltered Napoleon. The Saxon Captain von Odeleben, who was at the
French headquarters, states that the Emperor was for a few minutes
quite dazed by the daring of this stroke; and he now had too few
squadrons to venture on any retaliation. Both sides were, in fact,
exhausted. The allies had lost 10,000 men killed and wounded, but no
prisoners or guns: the French losses were nearly as heavy, and five
guns and 800 prisoners fell into Blücher's hands. Both armies camped
on the field of battle; but, as the supplies of ammunition of the
allies had run low, and news came to hand that Lauriston had dislodged
Kleist from Leipzig, it was decided to retreat towards Dresden.

Napoleon cautiously followed them, leaving behind Ney's corps, which
had suffered frightfully at Gross Görschen; and he strove to inspirit
the conscripts, many of whom had shown unsteadiness, by proclaiming to
the army that the victory of Lützen would rank above Austerlitz, Jena,
Friedland, and Borodino.

Far from showing dejection, Alexander renewed to Cathcart his
assurance of persevering in the war. At Dresden our envoy was again
assured (May 7th) that the allies would not give in, but that "Austria
will wear the cloak of mediation till the time her immense force is
ready to act, the 24th instant. Count Stadion is hourly expected here:
he will bring proposals of terms of peace and similar ones will be
sent to the French headquarters. Receiving and refusing these
proposals will occupy most of the time." In fact, Metternich was on
the point of despatching from Vienna two envoys, Stadion to the
allies, Count Bubna to Napoleon, with the offer of Austria's armed
mediation.

It found him in no complaisant mood. He had entered Dresden as a
conqueror: he had bitterly chidden the citizens for their support of
the Prussian volunteers, and ordered them to beg their own King to
return from Bohemia. To that hapless monarch he had sent an imperious
mandate to come back and order the Saxon troops, who obstinately held
Torgau, forthwith to hand it over to the French. On all sides his
behests were obeyed, the Saxon troops grudgingly ranging themselves
under the French eagles. And while he was tearing Saxony away from the
national cause, he was summoned by Austria to halt. The victor met the
request with a flash of defiance. After a reproachful talk with Bubna,
on May 17th, he wrote two letters to the Emperor Francis. In the more
official note he assured him that he desired peace, and that he
assented to the opening of a Congress with that aim in view, in which
England, Russia, Prussia, and even the Spanish insurgents might take
part. He therefore proposed that an armistice should be concluded for
the needful preparations. But in the other letter he assured his
father-in-law that he was ready to die at the head of all the generous
men of France rather than become the sport of England. His resentment
against Austria finds utterance in his despatch of the same day, in
which he bids Caulaincourt seek an interview at once with the Czar:
"The essential thing is to have a talk with him.... My intention is to
build him a golden bridge so as to deliver him from the intrigues of
Metternich. If I must make sacrifices, I prefer to make them to a
straightforward enemy, rather than to the profit of Austria, which
Power has betrayed my alliance, and, under the guise of mediator,
means to claim the right of arranging everything." Caulaincourt is to
remind Alexander how badly Austria behaved to him in 1812, and to
suggest that if he treats at once before losing another battle, he can
retire with honour and _with good terms for Prussia, without any
intervention from Austria_.

His other letters of this time show that it is on the Hapsburgs that
his resentment will most heavily fall. Eugène, who had recently
departed to organize the forces in Italy, is urged to threaten Austria
with not fewer than 80,000 men, and to give out that he will soon have
150,000 men under arms. And, while straining every nerve in Germany,
France, and Italy, Napoleon asserts that there will be an armistice
for the conclusion of a general peace.[297] But the allies were not to
be duped into a peace that was no peace. They had good grounds for
expecting the eventual aid of Austria; and when Caulaincourt craved an
interview, the Czar refused his request, thus bringing affairs once
more to the arbitrament of the sword. The only effect of
Caulaincourt's mission, and of Napoleon's bitter words to Bubna, was
to alarm Austria.

On their side, the allies desired to risk no further check; and they
had therefore taken up a strong position near Bautzen, where they
could receive reinforcements and effectually cover Silesia. Their
extreme left rested on the spurs of the Lusatian mountains, while
their long front of some four miles in extent stretched northwards
along a ridge that rose between the River Spree and an affluent, and
bent a convex threatening brow against that river and town. There they
were joined by Barclay, whose arrival brought their total strength to
82,000 men. But again Napoleon had the advantage in numbers. Suddenly
calling in Ney's and Lauriston's force of 60,000 men, which had been
sent north so as to threaten Berlin, he confronted the allies with at
least 130,000 men.[298]

On the first day of fighting (May 20th) the French seized the town of
Bautzen, but failed to drive the allies from the hilly, wooded ground
on the south. The fighting on the next day was far more serious. At
dawn of a beautiful spring morning, in a country radiant with verdure
and diversified by trim villages, the thunder of cannon and the
sputter of skirmishers' lines presaged a stubborn conflict. The allied
sovereigns from the commanding ridge at their centre could survey all
the enemy's movements on the hills opposite; and our commissary,
Colonel (afterwards Sir Hudson) Lowe, has thus described his view of
Napoleon, who was near the French centre:

    "He was about fifty paces in front of the others, accompanied by
    one of his marshals, with whom he walked backwards and forwards
    for nearly an hour. He was dressed in a plain uniform coat and a
    star [_sic_], with a plain hat, different from that of his
    marshals and generals, which was feathered. In the rear, and to
    the left of the ridge on which he stood, were his reserves. They
    were formed in lines of squadrons and battalions, appearing like a
    large column of battalions: their number must have been between
    15,000 and 20,000.

    After he had retired from the eminence, several of the battalions
    were observed to be drawn off to his left, and to be replaced by
    others from the rear: the masses of his reserves appeared to
    suffer scarcely any diminution.... Those troops which were to act
    against our right continued their march: the others, opposite our
    centre, planted themselves about midway on the slope, which
    descended from the ridge towards our position; and, under the
    protection of the guns that crowned the ridge, they appeared to
    set our cavalry at defiance.... Yet there was no forward movement
    in that part. To turn and overthrow our flanks, particularly the
    right one, appeared now to be their main object."

This was the case. Napoleon was employing his usual tactics of
assailing the allies everywhere by artillery and musketry fire, so as
to keep them in their already very extended position until he could
deliver a decisive blow. This was dealt, though somewhat tardily, by
Ney with his huge corps at the allied right, where Barclay's 5,000
Russians were outmatched and driven back. The village of Preititz was
lost, and with it the allies' communications were laid bare. It was of
the utmost importance to recover the village; and Blücher, at the
right centre, hard pressed though he was, sent down Kleist's brigade,
which helped to wrench the prize from that Marshal's grasp. But Ney
was too strong to be kept off, even by the streams of cannon-shot
poured upon his dense columns. With the help of Lauriston's corps, he
again slowly pressed on, began to envelop the allies' right, and
threatened to cut off their retreat. Blücher was also furiously
assailed by Marmont and Bertrand. On the left, it is true, the
Russians had beaten back Oudinot with heavy loss; but, as Napoleon had
not yet seriously drawn on his reserves, the allied chiefs decided to
draw off their hard-pressed troops from this unequal contest, where
victory was impossible and delay might place everything in jeopardy.

The retirement began late in the afternoon. Covered by the fire of a
powerful artillery from successive crests, and by the charges of their
dauntless cavalry, the allies beat off every effort of the French to
turn the retreat into a rout. In vain did Napoleon press the pursuit.
As at Lützen, he had cause to mourn the loss in the plains of Russia
of those living waves that had swept his enemies from many a
battlefield. But now their columns refused to melt away. They filed
off, unbroken and defiant, under the covering wings of Uhlans and
Cossacks.[299]

The next day witnessed the same sight, the allies drawing steadily
back, showering shot from every post of vantage, and leaving not a
prisoner or a caisson in the conquerors' hands. "What!" said Napoleon,
"after such a butchery, no results? no prisoners?" Scarcely had he
spoken these words, when a cannon-ball tore through his staff, killing
one general outright, wounding another, and shattering the frame of
Duroc, Duc de Friuli. Napoleon was deeply affected by this occurrence.
He dismounted, went into the cottage where Duroc was taken, and for
some time pressed his hand in silence. Then he uttered the words:
"Duroc, there is another world where we shall meet again." To which
the Grand Marshal made reply: "Yes, sire; but it will be in thirty
years, when you have triumphed over your enemies and realized all the
hopes of your country." After a long pause of painful silence, the
Emperor mournfully left the man for whom he felt, perhaps, the
liveliest sympathy and affection he ever bestowed. Under Duroc's cold,
reserved exterior the Emperor knew that there beat a true heart,
devoted and loyal ever since they had first met at Toulon. He received
no one else for the rest of that night, and a hush of awe fell on the
camp at the unwonted signs of grief of their great leader.

Possibly this loss strengthened the Emperor's desire for a truce, a
feeling not lessened by a mishap befalling one of his divisions, which
fell into an ambush laid by the Prussians at Hainau, and lost 1,500
men and 18 guns.

For their part, the allies equally desired a suspension of arms. Their
forces were in much confusion. Alexander had superseded Wittgenstein
by Barclay, who now insisted on withdrawing the Russians into Poland.
To this the Prussian staff offered the most strenuous resistance. Such
a confession of weakness, urged Müffling, would dishearten the troops
and intimidate the Austrian statesmen who had promised speedy succour.
Let the allies cling to the sheltering rampart of the Riesengebirge,
where they might defy Napoleon's attacks and await the white-coats.
The fortress of Schweidnitz would screen their retreat, and the
Landwehr of Silesia would make good the gaps in their ranks. Towards
Schweidnitz, then, the Czar ordered Barclay to retreat.

There two disappointments awaited them. The fortifications, dismantled
by the French in 1807, were still in disrepair, and the 20,000 muskets
bought in Austria for the Silesian levies were without touch-holes!
Again Barclay declared that he must retreat into Poland, and only the
offer of a truce by Napoleon deterred him from that step, which must
have compromised the whole military and political situation. What
would not Napoleon have given to know the actual state of things at
the allied headquarters?[300] But no spy warned him of the truth; and
as his own instincts prompted him to turn aside, so as to prepare
condign chastisement for Austria, he continued to treat for an
armistice.

"Nothing," he wrote to Eugène on June 2nd, "can be more perfidious
than that Court. If I granted her present demands, she would
afterwards ask for Italy and Germany. Certainly she shall have nothing
from me." Events served to strengthen his resolve. The French entered
Breslau in triumph, and raised the siege of Glogau. The coalition
seemed to be tottering. That the punishment dealt to the allies and
Austria might be severe and final, he only needed a few weeks for the
reorganization of his once formidable cavalry. Then he could vent his
rage upon Austria. Then he could overthrow the Hungarian horse, and
crumple up the ill-trained Austrian foot. A short truce, he believed,
was useless: it would favour the allies more than the French. And,
under the specious plea that the discussion of a satisfactory peace
must take up at least forty days, he ordered his envoy, Caulaincourt,
to insist on a space of time which would admit of the French forces
being fully equipped in Saxony, Bavaria, and Illyria. "If," he wrote
to Caulaincourt on June 4th, "we did not wish to treat with a view to
peace, we should not be so stupid as to treat for an armistice at the
present time." And he urged him to insist on the limit of July 20th,
"always on the same reasoning, namely, that we must have forty full
days to see if we can come to an understanding." Far different was his
secret warning to General Clarke, the Minister of War. To him he wrote
on June 2nd:

    "If I can, I will wait for the month of September to deal great
    blows. I wish then to be in a position to crush my enemies, though
    it is possible that, when Austria sees me about to do so, she may
    make use of her pathetic and sentimental style, in order to
    recognize the chimerical and ridiculous nature of her pretensions.
    I have wished to write you this letter so that you may thoroughly
    know my thoughts once for all."

And to Maret, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, he wrote on the same
day:

    "We must gain time, and to gain time without displeasing Austria,
    we must use the same language we have used for the last six
    months--that we can do everything if Austria is our ally.... Work
    on this, beat about the bush, and gain time.... You can embroider
    on this canvas for the next two months, and find matter for
    sending twenty couriers."[301]

In such cases, where Napoleon's diplomatic assurances are belied by
his secret military instructions, no one who has carefully studied his
career can doubt which course would be adopted. The armistice was
merely the pause that would be followed by a fiercer onset, unless the
allies and Austria bent before his will. Of this they gave no sign
even after the blow of Bautzen. In the negotiations concerning the
armistice they showed no timidity; and when, on June 4th, it was
signed at Poischwitz up to July 20th, Napoleon felt some doubts
whether he had not shown too much complaisance.

It was so: in granting a suspension of arms he had signed his own
death warrant.

The news that reached him at Dresden in the month of June helped to
stiffen his resolve once more. Davoust and Vandamme had succeeded in
dispersing the raw levies of North Germany and in restoring Napoleon's
authority at the mouths of the Elbe and Weser; and in this they now
had the help of the Danes.

For some time the allies had been seeking to win over Denmark. But
there was one insurmountable barrier in the way, the ambition of
Bernadotte. As we have seen, he was desirous of signalizing his
prospective succession to the Swedish throne by bringing to his
adopted country a land that would amply recompense it for the loss of
Finland.[302] This could only be found in Norway, then united with
Denmark; and this was the price of Swedish succour, to which the Czar
had assented during the war of 1812. For reasons which need not be
detailed here, Swedish help was not then forthcoming. But early in
1813 it was seen that a diversion caused by the landing of 30,000
Swedes in North Germany might be most valuable, and it was especially
desired by the British Government. Still, England was loth to gain the
alliance of Bernadotte at the price of Norway, which must drive
Denmark into the arms of France. Castlereagh, therefore, sought to
tempt him by the offer of our recent conquest of Guadeloupe. Or, if he
must have Norway, would not Denmark give her assent if she received
Swedish Pomerania and Lübeck? Bernadotte himself once suggested that
he would be satisfied with the Bishopric of Trondjem, the northern
part of Norway, if he could gain no compensation for Denmark in
Germany.[303]

This offer was tentatively made. It was all one. Denmark would not
hear of the cession of Norway or any part of it; and in the course of
the negotiations with England she even put in a claim to the Hanse
Towns, which was at once rejected. As Denmark was obdurate, Bernadotte
insisted that Sweden should gain the whole of Norway as the price of
her help to the allies. By the treaty of Stockholm (March 3rd, 1813)
we acceded to the Russo-Swedish compact of the previous year, which
assigned Norway to Sweden: we also promised to cede Guadeloupe to
Bernadotte, and to pay £1,000,000 towards the support of the Swedish
troops serving against Napoleon.[304] In the middle of May it was
known at Copenhagen that nothing was to be hoped for from Russia and
England. The Danes, therefore, ranged themselves on the French side,
with results that were to prove fatal to the welfare of their kingdom.

Thus the bargain which Bernadotte drove with the allies leagued
Denmark against them, and thereby hindered the liberation of North
Germany. But, such is the irony of fate, the transfer of Norway from
Denmark to Sweden has had a permanence in which Napoleon's territorial
arrangements have been signally lacking.

Bernadotte landed at Stralsund with 24,000 men, on May 18th. But the
organization of his troops for the campaign was so slow that he could
send no effective help to the Cossacks and patriots at Hamburg. His
seeming lethargy at once aroused the Czar's suspicions. This the
Swedish Prince Royal speedily detected; and, on hearing of the
armistice, he feared that another Tilsit would be the result. In a
passionate letter, of June 10th, he begged Alexander not to accept
peace: "To accept a peace dictated by Napoleon is to rear a sepulchre
for Europe: and if this misfortune happens, only England and Sweden
can remain intact."

This was the real Bernadotte. Those who called him a disguised friend
of Napoleon little knew the depth of his hatred for the Emperor, a
hatred which was even then compassing the earth for means of
overthrowing him, and saw in the person of a lonely French exile
beyond the Atlantic an instrument of vengeance. Already he had bidden
his old comrade in arms, Moreau, to come over and direct the people's
war against the tyrant who had exiled him; and the victor of
Hohenlinden was soon to land at Stralsund and spend his last days in
serving against the tricolour.

For the present the prospects of the allies seemed gloomy indeed. In
the south-east they had lost all the land up to Breslau and Glogau;
and in North Germany Davoust began to turn Hamburg into a great
fortress. This was in obedience to Napoleon's orders. "I shall never
feel assured," the Emperor wrote to his Marshal, "until Hamburg can be
looked on as a stronghold provisioned for several months and prepared
in every way for a long defence."--The ruin of commercial interests
was nought to him; and when Savary ventured to hint at the discontent
caused in French mercantile circles by these steps, he received a
sharp rebuke: " ... The cackling of the Paris bankers matters very
little to me. I am having Hamburg fortified. I am having a naval
arsenal formed there. Within a few months it will be one of my
strongest fortresses. I intend to keep a standing army of 15,000 men
there."[305] His plan was ruthlessly carried out. The wealth of
Hamburg was systematically extorted in order to furnish means for a
completer subjection. Boundless exactions, robbery of the bank, odious
oppression of all classes, these were the first steps. Twenty thousand
persons were thereafter driven out, first the young and strong as
being dangerous, then the old and weak as being useless; and a once
prosperous emporium of trade became Napoleon's chief northern
stronghold, a centre of hope for French and Danes, and a stimulus to
revenge for every patriotic Teuton.[306]

Yet the patriots were not cast down by recent events. Their one desire
was for the renewal of war: their one fear was that the diplomatists
would once more barter away German independence. "Our people," cried
Karl Müller, "is still too lazy because it is too wealthy. Let us
learn, as the Russians did, to go round and burn, and then find
ourselves dagger and poison, as the Spaniards did. Against those two
peoples Napoleon's troops could effect nothing." And while gloom and
doubt hung over Germany, a cheering ray shot forth once more from the
south-west. At the close of June came the news that Wellington had
utterly routed the French at Vittoria.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIV

VITTORIA AND THE ARMISTICE


It would be beyond the scope of this work to describe in detail the
campaign that culminated at Vittoria. Our task must be limited to
showing what was the position of affairs at the close of 1812, what
were the Emperor's plans for holding part, at least, of Spain, and why
they ended in utter failure.

The causes, which had all along weakened the French operations in
Spain, operated in full force during the campaign of 1812. The
jealousy of the Marshals, and, still more, their insubordination to
King Joseph, prevented that timely concentration of force by which the
Emperor won his greatest triumphs. Discordant aims and grudging
co-operation marked their operations. Military writers have often been
puzzled to account for the rash moves of Marmont, which brought on him
the crushing blow of Salamanca. Had he waited but a few days before
pressing Wellington hard, he would have been reinforced by King Joseph
with 14,000 men.[307] But he preferred to risk all on a last dashing
move rather than to wait for the King and contribute, as second in
command, to securing a substantial success.

The correspondence of Joseph before and after Salamanca is
instructive. We see him unable to move quickly to the support of
Marmont, because the French Army of the North neglects to send him the
detachment needed for the defence of Madrid; and when, on hearing the
news of Salamanca, he orders Soult to evacuate Andalusia so as to
concentrate forces for the recovery of the capital, his command is for
some time disobeyed. When, at last, Joseph, Soult, and Suchet
concentrate their forces for a march on Madrid, Wellington is
compelled to retire. Pushing on his rear with superior forces, Joseph
then seeks to press on a battle; but again Soult moves so slowly that
Wellington is able to draw off his men and make good his retreat to
Ciudad Rodrigo.[308]

Apparently Joseph came off victor from the campaign of 1812; but the
withdrawal of French troops towards Madrid and the valley of the Douro
had fatal consequences. The south was at once lost to the French; and
the sturdy mountaineers of Biscay, Navarre, and Arragon formed large
bands whose persistent daring showed that the north was far from
conquered. Encouraged by the presence of a small British force, they
seized on most of the northern ports; and their chief, Mina, was able
to meet the French northern army on almost equal terms. In the east,
Suchet held his own against the Spaniards and an Anglo-Sicilian
expedition. But in regard to the rest of Spain, Soult's gloomy
prophecy was fulfilled: "The loss of Andalusia and the raising of the
siege of Cadiz are events whose results will be felt throughout the
whole of Europe."

The Spanish Cortes, or Parliament, long cooped up in Cadiz, now sought
to put in force the recently devised democratic constitution. It was
hailed with joy by advanced thinkers in the cities, and with loathing
by the clergy, the nobles, the wealthy, and the peasants. But, though
the Cortes sowed the seeds of political discord, they took one very
commendable step. They appointed Wellington generalissimo of all the
Spanish armies; and, in a visit which he paid to the Cortes at
Christmastide, he prepared for a real co-operation of Spanish forces
in the next campaign.

At that time Napoleon was uneasily looking into the state of Spanish
affairs. As soon as he mastered the contents of the despatches from
Madrid he counselled a course of action that promised, at any rate, to
postpone the overthrow of his power. The advice is set forth in
letters written on January 4th and February 12th by the Minister of
War, General Clarke; for Napoleon had practically ceased to correspond
with his brother. In the latter of these despatches Clarke explained
in some detail the urgent need of acting at once, while the English
were inactive, so as to stamp out the ever-spreading flame of revolt
in the northern provinces. Two French armies, that of the North and
the so-called "Army of Portugal," were to be told off for this duty;
and Joseph was informed that his armies of the south and of the centre
would for the present suffice to hold the British in check. As to
Joseph's general course of action, it was thus prescribed:

    "The Emperor commands me to reiterate to your Majesty that the use
    of Valladolid as a residence and as headquarters is an
    indispensable preliminary. From that place must be sent out on the
    Burgos road, and on other fit points, the troops which are to
    strengthen or to second the army of the north. Madrid, and even
    Valencia, form parts of this system only as posts to be held by
    your extreme left, not as places to be kept by a concentration of
    forces.... To occupy Valladolid and Salamanca, to use the utmost
    exertion to pacify Navarre and Arragon to keep the communication
    with France rapid and safe, to be always ready to take the
    offensive--these are the Emperor's instructions for the campaign,
    and the principles on which all its operations ought to be
    founded...."[309]

A fortnight later, Clarke bade the King threaten Ciudad Rodrigo so as
to make Wellington believe that the French would invade Portugal. He
was also to lay heavy contributions on Madrid and Toledo. In fact, the
capital was to be held only as long as it could be squeezed.

Such were the plans. They show clearly that the Emperor was impressed
with the need of crushing the rising in the north of Spain; for he
ordered as great a force against Mina and his troublesome bands as he
deemed necessary to watch the Portuguese frontier. Clausel was charged
to stamp out the northern rising, and Napoleon seems to have judged
that this hardy fighter would end this tedious task before Wellington
dealt any serious blows. The miscalculation was to be fatal. Mina was
not speedily to be beaten, nor was the British general the slow
unenterprising leader that the Emperor took him to be. And then again,
in spite of all the experiences of the past, Napoleon failed to allow
for the delays caused by the capture of his couriers, or by their long
detours. Yet, never were these more serious. Clarke's first urgent
despatch, that of January 4th, did not reach the King until February
16th.[310] When its directions were being doubtfully obeyed, those
quoted above arrived on March 12th, and led to changes in the
disposition of the troops. Thus the forces opposed to Wellington were
weakened in order to crush the northern revolt, and yet these
detachments were only sent north at the close of March for a difficult
enterprise which was not to be completed before the British leader
threw his sword decisively into the scales of war.

Joseph has been severely blamed for his tardy action: but, in truth,
he was in a hopeless _impasse_: on all sides he saw the walls of his
royal prison house closing in. The rebels in the north cut off the
French despatches, thus forestalling his movements and delaying by
some weeks his execution of Napoleon's plans. Worst of all, the
Emperor withdrew the pith and marrow of his forces: 1,200 officers,
6,000 non-commissioned officers, and some 24,000 of the most seasoned
soldiers filed away towards France to put strength and firmness into
the new levies of the line, or to fill out again the skeleton
battalions and squadrons of the Imperial Guard.[311]

It is strange that Napoleon did not withdraw all his troops from
Spain. They still exceeded 150,000 men; and yet, after he had flung
away army after army, the Spaniards were everywhere in arms, except in
Valencia. The north defied all the efforts of Clausel for several
weeks, until he declared that it would take 50,000 men three months to
crush the mountaineers.[312] Above all, Wellington was known to be
mustering a formidable force on the Portuguese borders. In truth,
Napoleon seems long to have been afflicted with political colour
blindness in Spanish affairs. Even now he only dimly saw the
ridiculous falsity of his brother's position--a parvenu among the
proudest nobility in the world, a bankrupt King called upon to keep up
regal pomp before a ceremonious race, a benevolent ruler forced to
levy heavy loans and contributions on a sensitive populace whose
goodwill he earnestly strove to gain, an easy-going epicure spurred on
to impetuous action by orders from Paris which he dared not disregard
and could not execute, a peace-loving valetudinarian upon whom was
thrust the task of controlling testy French Marshals, and of holding a
nation in check and Wellington at bay.

The concentration on which Napoleon laid such stress would doubtless
have proved a most effective step had the French forces on the Douro
been marshalled by an able leader. But here, again, the situation had
been fatally compromised by the recall of the ablest of the French
commanders in Spain. Wellington afterwards said that Soult was second
only to Masséna among the French Marshals pitted against him. He had
some defects. "He did not quite understand a field of battle: he was
an excellent tactician, knew very well how to bring his troops up to
the field, but not so well how to use them when he had brought them
up."[313] But the fact remains that, with the exception of his Oporto
failure, Soult came with credit, if not glory, out of every campaign
waged against Wellington. Yet he was now recalled.

Indeed, this vain and ambitious man had mortally offended King Joseph.
After Salamanca he had treated him with gross disrespect. Not only did
he, at first, refuse to move from Andalusia, but he secretly revealed
to six French generals his fears that Joseph was betraying the French
cause by treating with the Spanish national government at Cadiz. He
even warned Clarke of the King's supposed intentions, in a letter
which by chance fell into Joseph's hands.[314] The hot blood of the
Bonapartes boiled at this underhand dealing, and he at once despatched
Colonel Desprez to Napoleon to demand Soult's instant recall. The
Emperor, who was then at Moscow, temporized. Perhaps he was not sorry
to have in Spain so vigilant an informer; and he made the guarded
reply that Soult's suspicions did not much surprise him, that they
were shared by many other French generals, who thought King Joseph
preferred Spain to France, and that he could not recall Soult, as he
had "the only military head in Spain." The threatening war-cloud in
Central Europe led Napoleon to change his resolve. Soult was recalled,
but not disgraced, and, after the death of Bessières, he received the
command of the Imperial Guard.

The commander who now bore the brunt of responsibility was Jourdan,
who acted as major-general at the King's side, a post which he had
held once before, but had forfeited owing to his blunders in the
summer of 1809. The victor of Fleurus was now fifty-one years of age,
and his failing health quite unfitted him for the Herculean tasks of
guiding refractory generals, and of propping up a tottering monarchy.
For Jourdan's talents Napoleon had expressed but scanty esteem,
whereas on many occasions he extolled the abilities of Suchet, who was
now holding down Valencia and Catalonia. Certainly Suchet's tenacity
and administrative skill rendered his stay in those rich provinces
highly desirable. But the best talent was surely needed on
Wellington's line of advance, namely, at Valladolid. To the
shortcomings and mishaps of Joseph and Jourdan in that quarter may be
chiefly ascribed the collapse of the French power.

In fact, the only part of Spain that now really interested Napoleon
was the north and north-east. So long as he firmly held the provinces
north of the Ebro, he seems to have cared little whether Joseph
reigned, or did not reign, at Madrid. All that concerned him was to
hold the British at bay from the line of the Douro, while French
authority was established in the north and north-east. This he was
determined to keep; and probably he had already formed the design,
later on to be mooted to Ferdinand VII. at Valençay, of restoring him
to the throne of Spain and of indemnifying him with Portugal for the
loss of the north-eastern provinces. This scheme may even have formed
part of a plan of general pacification; for at Dresden, on May 17th,
he proposed to Austria the admission of representatives of the Spanish
_insurgents_ to the European Congress. But it is time to turn from the
haze of conjecture to the sharp outlines of Wellington's
campaign.[315]

While the French cause in Spain was crumbling to pieces, that of the
patriots was being firmly welded together by the organizing genius of
Wellington. By patient efforts, he soon had the Spanish and Portuguese
contingents in an efficient condition: and, as large reinforcements
had come from England, he was able early in May to muster 70,000
British and Portuguese troops and 30,000 Spaniards for a move
eastwards. Murray's force tied Suchet fast to the province of
Valencia; Clausel was fully employed in Navarre, and thus Joseph's
army on the Douro was left far too weak to stem Wellington's tide of
war. Only some 45,000 French were ready in the districts between
Salamanca and Valladolid. Others remained in the basin of the Tagus in
case the allies should burst in by that route.

Wellington kept up their illusions by feints at several points, while
he prepared to thrust a mighty force over the fords of the Tormes and
Esla. He completely succeeded. While Joseph and Jourdan were haltingly
mustering their forces in Leon, the allies began that series of rapid
flanking movements on the north which decided the campaign. Swinging
forward his powerful left wing he manoeuvred the French out of one
strong position after another. The Tormes, the Esla, the Douro, the
Carrion, the Pisuerga, none of these streams stopped his advance.
Joseph nowhere showed fight; he abandoned even the castle of Burgos,
and, fearing to be cut off from France, retired behind the upper Ebro.

The official excuse given for this rapid retreat was the lack of
provisions: but the diaries of two British officers, Tomkinson and
Simmons, show that they found the country between the Esla and the
Ebro for the most part well stocked and fertile. Simmons, who was with
the famous Light Division, notes that the Rifles did not fire a shot
after breaking up their winter quarters, until they skirmished with
the French in the hills near the source of the Ebro. The French
retreat was really necessary in order to bring the King's forces into
touch with the corps of Generals Clausel and Foy, in Navarre and
Biscay respectively. Joseph had already sent urgent orders to call in
these corps; for, as he explained to Clarke, the supreme need now was
to beat Wellington; that done, the partisan warfare would collapse.

But Clausel and Foy took their orders, not from the King, but from
Paris; and up to June 5th, Joseph heard not a word from Clausel. At
last, on June 15th, that general wrote from Pamplona that he had
received Joseph's commands of May 30th and June 7th, and would march
to join him. Had he at once called in his mobile columns and covered
with all haste the fifty miles that separated him from the King, the
French army would have been the stronger by at least 14,000 men. But
his concentration was a work of some difficulty, and he finally drew
near to Vittoria on June 22nd, when the French cause was irrecoverably
lost.[316]

Wellington, meanwhile, had foreseen the supreme need of despatch.
Early in the year he had urged our naval authorities to strengthen our
squadron on the north of Spain, so that he might in due course make
Santander his base of supplies. Naval support was not forthcoming to
the extent that he expected;[317] but after leaving Burgos he was able
to make some use of the northern ports, thereby shortening his line of
communications. In fact, the Vittoria campaign illustrates the immense
advantages gained by a leader, who is sure of his rear and of one
flank, over an enemy who is ever nervous about his communications. The
British squadron acted like a covering force on the north to
Wellington: it fed the guerilla warfare in Biscay, and menaced Joseph
with real though invisible dangers. This explains, in large measure,
why our commander moved forward so rapidly, and pushed forward his
left wing with such persistent daring. Mountain fastnesses and roaring
torrents stayed not the advance of his light troops on that side. Near
the sources of the Ebro, the French again felt their communications
with France threatened, and falling back from the main stream, up the
defile carved out by a tributary, the Zadora, they halted wearily in
the basin of Vittoria.

There Joseph and Jourdan determined to fight. As usual, there had been
recriminations at headquarters. "Jourdan, ill and angry, kept his
room; and the King was equally invisible."[318] Few orders were given.
The town was packed with convoys and vehicles of all kinds, and it was
not till dawn of that fatal midsummer's day that the last convoy set
out for France, under the escort of 3,000 troops. Nevertheless, Joseph
might hope to hold his own. True, he had but 70,000 troops at hand, or
perhaps even fewer; yet on the evening of the 19th he heard that
Clausel had set out from Pamplona.

At once he bade him press on his march, but that message fell into the
enemy's hands.[319] Relying, then, on help which was not to arrive,
Joseph confronted the allied army. It numbered, in all, 83,000 men,
though Napier asserts that not more than 60,000 took part in the
fighting. The French left wing rested on steep hills near Puebla,
which tower above the River Zadora, and leave but a narrow defile.
Their centre held a less precipitous ridge, which trends away to the
north parallel to the middle reaches of that stream. Higher up its
course, the Zadora describes a sharp curve that protects the ridge on
its northern flank; and if a daring foe drove the defenders away from
these heights, they could still fall back on two lower ridges nearer
Vittoria. But these natural advantages were not utilized to the full.
The bridges opposite the French front were not broken, and the
defenders were far too widely spread out. Their right wing, consisting
of the "Army of Portugal" under General Reille, guarded the bridge
north of Vittoria, and was thus quite out of touch with the main force
that held the hills five miles away to the west.

The dawn broke heavily; the air was thick with rain and driving mists,
under cover of which Hill's command moved up against the steeps of
Puebla. A Spanish brigade, under General Morillo, nimbly scaled those
slopes on the south-west, gained a footing near the summit, and, when
reinforced, firmly held their ground. Meanwhile the rest of Hill's
troops threaded their way beneath through the pass of Puebla, and,
after a tough fight, wrested the village of Subijana from the foe. In
vain did Joseph and Jourdan bring up troops from the centre; the
British and Spaniards were not to be driven either from the village or
from the heights. Wellington's main array was also advancing to attack
the French centre occupying the ridge behind the Zadora; and Graham,
after making a long détour to the north through very broken country,
sought to surprise Reille and drive him from the bridge north of
Vittoria. In this advance the guidance of the Spanish irregulars,
under Colonel Longa, was of priceless value. So well was Graham
covered by their bands, that, up to the moment of attack, Reille knew
not that a British division was also at hand. At the centre, too, a
Spanish peasant informed Wellington that the chief bridge of Tres
Puentes was unguarded, and guided Kempt's brigade through rocky
ground to within easy charging distance.

 [Illustration: BATTLE OF VITTORIA]

The bridge was seized, Joseph's outposts were completely turned, and
time was given for the muster of Picton's men. Stoutly they breasted
the slopes, and unsteadied the weakened French centre, which was also
assailed on its northern flank. At the same time Joseph's left wing
began to waver under Hill's repeated onslaughts; and, distracted by
the distant cannonade, which told of a stubborn fight between Graham
and Reille, the King now began to draw in his lines towards Vittoria.
For a time the French firmly held the village of Arinez, but Picton's
men were not to be denied. They burst through the rearguard, and the
battle now became a running fight, extending over some five miles of
broken country. At the last slopes, close to Vittoria, the defenders
made a last heroic stand, and their artillery dealt havoc among the
assailants; but our fourth division, rushing forward into the smoke,
carried a hill that commanded their left, and the day was won. Nothing
now remained for the French but a speedy retreat, while the gallant
Reille could still hold Graham's superior force at bay.

There, too, the fight at last swirled back, albeit with many a
rallying eddy, into Vittoria. That town was no place of refuge, but a
death-trap; for Graham had pushed on a detachment to Durana, on the
high-road leading direct to France, and thus blocked the main line of
retreat. Joseph's army was now in pitiable plight. Pent up in the
choked streets of Vittoria, torn by cannon-shot from the English
lines, the wreckage of its three armies for a time surged helplessly
to and fro, and then broke away eastwards towards Pamplona. On that
side only was safety to be found, for British hussars scoured the
plain to the north-east, lending wings to the flight. The narrow
causeway, leading through marshes, was soon blocked, and panic seized
on all: artillerymen cut their traces and fled; carriages crowded with
women, once called gay, but now frantic with terror, wagons laden with
ammunition, stores, treasure-chests, and the booty amassed by generals
and favourites during five years of warfare and extortion, all were
left pell-mell. Jourdan's Marshal's baton was taken, and was sent by
Wellington to the Prince Regent, who acknowledged it by conferring on
the victor the title of Field-Marshal.

Richly was the title deserved. After four years of battling with
superior numbers, the British leader at last revealed the full majesty
of his powers now that the omens were favourable. In six weeks he
marched more than five hundred miles, crossed six rivers, and, using
the Navarrese revolt as the anvil, dealt the hammer-stroke of
Vittoria. It cost Napoleon 151 pieces of cannon, nearly all the stores
piled up for his Peninsular campaigns--and Spain itself.[320]

As for Joseph, he left his carriage and fled on horseback towards
France, reaching St. Jean de Luz "with only a napoleon left." He there
also assured his queen that he had always preferred a private station
to the grandeur and agitations of public life.[321] This, indeed, was
one of the many weak points of his brother's Spanish policy. It rested
on the shoulders of an amiable man who was better suited to the ease
of Naples than to the Herculean toils of Madrid. Napoleon now saw the
magnitude of his error. On July 1st he bade Soult leave Dresden at
once for Paris. There he was to call on Clarke, with him repair to
Cambacérès; and, as Lieutenant-General, take steps to re-establish the
Emperor's affairs in Spain. A Regency was to govern in place of
Joseph, who was ordered to remain, according to the state of affairs,
either at Burgos(!) or St. Sebastian or Bayonne.

    "All the follies in Spain" (he wrote to Cambacérès on that day)
    "are due to the mistaken consideration I have shown the King, who
    not only does not know how to command, but does not even know his
    own value enough to leave the military command alone."

And to Savary he wrote two days later:

    "It is hard to imagine anything so inconceivable as what is now
    going on in Spain. The King could have collected 100,000 picked
    men: _they might have beaten the whole of England_."

Reflection, however, showed him that the fault was his own; that if,
as had occurred to him when he left Paris, he had intrusted the
supreme command in Spain to Soult, the disaster would never have
happened.[322] His belief in Soult's capacity was justified by the
last events of the Peninsular War. But neither his splendid rally of
the scattered French forces, nor the skilful movements of Clausel and
Suchet, nor the stubborn defence of Pamplona and San Sebastian, could
now save the French cause. The sole result of these last operations
was to restore the lustre of the French arms and to keep 150,000 men
in Spain when the scales of war were wavering in the plains of Saxony.

Napoleon's letters betray the agitation which he felt even at the
first vague rumours of the disaster of Vittoria. On the first three
days of July he penned at Dresden seven despatches on that topic in a
style so vehement that the compilers of the "Correspondance de
Napoléon" have thought it best to omit them. He further enjoined the
utmost reserve, and ordered the official journals merely to state
that, after a brisk engagement at Vittoria, the French army was
concentrating in Arragon, and that the British had captured about a
hundred guns and wagons left behind in the town for lack of horses.

There was every reason for hiding the truth. He saw how seriously it
must weaken his chances of browbeating the Eastern Powers, and of
punishing Austria for her armed mediation. Hitherto there seemed every
chance of his succeeding. The French standards flew on all the
fortresses of the Elbe and Oder. Hamburg was fast becoming a great
French camp, and Denmark was ranged on the side of France.

Indeed, on reviewing the situation on June 4th, the German publicist,
Gentz, came to the conclusion that the Emperor Francis would probably
end his vacillations by some inglorious compromise. The Kaiser desired
peace; but he also wished to shake off the irksome tutelage of his
son-in-law, and regain Illyria. For the present he wavered. Before the
news of Lützen reached him, he undoubtedly encouraged the allies: but
that reverse brought about a half left turn towards Napoleon. "Boney's
success at Lützen," wrote Sir G. Jackson in his Diary, "has made
Francis reconsider his half-formed resolutions." Here was the chief
difficulty for the allies. Their fortunes, and the future of Europe,
rested largely on the decision of a man whose natural irresolution of
character had been increased by adversity. Fortunately, the news from
Spain finally helped to incline him towards war; but for some weeks
his decision remained the unknown quantity in European politics.
Fortunately, too, he was amenable to the gentle but determining
pressure of the kind which Metternich could so skilfully exert. That
statesman, as usual, schemed and balanced. He saw that Austria had
much to gain by playing the waiting game. Her forces were improving
both in numbers and efficiency, and under cover of her offer of armed
mediation were holding strong positions in Bohemia. In fact, she was
regaining her prestige, and might hope to impose her will on the
combatants at the forthcoming European Congress at Prague. Metternich,
therefore, continued to pose as the well-wisher of both parties and
the champion of a reasonable and therefore durable compromise.

He had acted thus, not only in his choice of measures, but in his
selection of men. He had sent to Napoleon's headquarters at Dresden
Count Bubna, whose sincere and resolute striving for peace served to
lull animosity and suspicions in that place. But to the allied
headquarters, now at Reichenbach, he had despatched Count Stadion, who
worked no less earnestly for war. While therefore the Courts of St.
Petersburg, Berlin, and London hoped, from Stadion's language, that
Austria meant to draw the sword, Napoleon inclined to the belief that
she would never do more than rattle her scabbard, and would finally
yield to his demands.

Stadion's letters to Metternich show that he feared this result. He
pressed him to end the seesaw policy of the last six months. "These
people are beaten owing to our faults, our half wishes, our half
measures, and presently they will get out of the scrape and leave us
to pay the price." As for Austria's forthcoming demand of Illyria, who
would guarantee that the French Emperor would let her keep it six
months, if he remained master of Germany and Italy? Only by a close
union with the allies could she be screened from Napoleon's vengeance,
which must otherwise lead to her utter destruction. Let, then, all
timid counsellors be removed from the side of the Emperor Francis. "I
cling to my oft-expressed conviction that we are no longer masters of
our own affairs, and that the tide of events will carry us
along."[323] If we may judge from Metternich's statements in his
"Memoirs," written many years later, he was all along in secret
sympathy with these views. But his actions and his official despatches
during the first six weeks of the armistice bore another complexion;
they were almost colourless, or rather, they were chameleonic. At
Dresden they seemed, on the whole, to be favourable to France: at
Reichenbach, when coloured by Stadion, they were thought to hold out
the prospect of another European coalition.

A new and important development was given to Austrian policy when, on
June 7th, Metternich drew up the conditions on which Austria would
insist as the basis of her armed mediation. They were as follows: (1)
Dissolution of the Duchy of Warsaw; (2) A consequent reconstruction of
Prussia, with the certainty of recovering Danzig; (3) Restitution of
the Illyrian provinces, including Dalmatia, to Austria; (4)
Re-establishment of the Hanse Towns, and an eventual arrangement as to
the cession of the other parts of the 32nd military division [the part
of North Germany annexed by Napoleon in 1810]. To these were added two
other conditions on which Austria would lay great stress, namely: (5)
Dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; (6) Reconstruction of
Prussia conformably with her territorial extent previous to 1805.

At first sight these terms seem favourable to the allied cause; but
they were much less extensive than the proposals submitted by
Alexander in the middle of May. Therefore, when they were set forth to
the allies at Reichenbach, they were unfavourably received, and for
some days suspicion of Austria overclouded the previous goodwill. It
was removed only by the labours of Stadion and by the tact which
Metternich displayed during an interview with the Czar at Opotschna
(June 17th).

Alexander came there prejudiced against Metternich as a past master in
the arts of double-dealing: he went away convinced that he meant well
for the allies. "What will become of us," asked the Czar, "if Napoleon
accepts your mediation?" To which the statesman replied: "If he
refuses it, the truce will be at an end, and you will find us in the
ranks of your allies. If he accepts it, the negotiations will prove to
a certainty that Napoleon is neither wise nor just; and the issue will
be the same." Alexander knew enough of his great enemy's character to
discern the sagacity of Metternich's forecast; and both Frederick
William and he agreed to the Austrian terms.[324] Accordingly, on June
27th, a treaty was secretly signed at Reichenbach, wherein Austria
pledged herself to an active alliance with Russia and Prussia in case
Napoleon should not, by the end of the armistice, have acceded to her
four _conditiones sine quibus non._ To these was now added a demand
for the evacuation of all Polish and Prussian fortresses by French
troops, a stipulation which it was practically certain that Napoleon
would refuse.[325]

The allies meanwhile were gaining the sinews of war from England. The
Czar had informed Cathcart at Kalisch that, though he did not press
our Government for subsidies, yet he would not be able to wage a long
campaign without such aid. On June 14th and 15th, our ambassador
signed treaties with Russia and Prussia, whereby we agreed to aid the
former by a yearly subsidy of £1,133,334, and the latter by a sum of
half that amount, and to meet all the expenses of the Russian fleet
then in our harbours. The Czar and the King of Prussia bound
themselves to maintain in the field (exclusive of garrisons) 160,000
and 80,000 men respectively.[326]

There was every reason for these preparations. Everything showed that
Napoleon was bent on browbeating the allies. On June 17th Napoleon's
troops destroyed or captured Lützow's volunteers at Kitzen near
Leipzig. The excuse for this act was that Lützow had violated the
armistice; but he had satisfied Nisas, the French officer there in
command, that he was loyally observing it. Nevertheless, his brigade
was cut to pieces. The protests of the allies received no response
except that Lützow's men might be exchanged--as if they had been
captured in fair fight. Finally, Napoleon refused to hear the
statement of Nisas in his own justification, reproached him for
casting a slur on the conduct of French troops, and deprived him of
his command.[327]

But it was Napoleon's bearing towards Metternich, in an interview held
on June 26th at the Marcolini Palace at Dresden, that most clearly
revealed the inflexibility of his policy. Ostensibly, the interview
was fixed in order to arrange the forms of the forthcoming Congress
that was to insure the world's peace. In reality, however, Napoleon
hoped to intimidate the Austrian statesman, and to gather from him the
results of his recent interview with the Czar. Carrying his sword at
his side and his hat under his arm, he received Metternich in state.
After a few studied phrases about the health of the Emperor Francis,
his brow clouded and he plunged _in medias res_: "So you too want war:
well, you shall have it. I have beaten the Russians at Bautzen: now
you wish your turn to come. Be it so, the rendezvous shall be in
Vienna. Men are incorrigible: experience is lost upon you. Three times
I have replaced the Emperor Francis on his throne. I have promised
always to live at peace with him: I have married his daughter. At the
time I said to myself--you are perpetrating a folly; but it was done,
and now I repent of it."

Metternich saw his advantage: his adversary had lost his temper and
forgotten his dignity. He calmly reminded Napoleon that peace depended
on him; that his power must be reduced within reasonable limits, or he
would fall in the ensuing struggle. No matador fluttered the cloak
more dextrously. Napoleon rushed on. No coalition should daunt him: he
could overpower any number of men--everything except the cold of
Russia--and the losses of that campaign had been made good. He then
diverged into stories about that war, varied by digressions as to his
exact knowledge of Austria's armaments, details of which were sent to
him daily. To end this wandering talk, Metternich reminded him that
his troops now were not men but boys. Whereupon the Emperor
passionately replied: "You do not know what goes on in the mind of a
soldier; a man such as I does not take much heed of the lives of a
million of men,"--and he threw aside his hat. Metternich did not pick
it up.

Napoleon noticed the unspoken defiance, and wound up by saying: "When
I married an Archduchess I tried to weld the new with the old, Gothic
prejudices with the institutions of my century: I deceived myself, and
this day I see the whole extent of my error. It may cost me my throne,
but I will bury the world beneath its ruins." In dismissing
Metternich, the Emperor used the device which, shortly before the
rupture with England in 1803, he had recommended Talleyrand to employ
upon Whitworth, namely, after trying intimidation to resort to
cajolery. Touching the Minister on the shoulder, he said quietly:
"Well, now, do you know what will happen? You will not make war on
me?" To which came the quick reply: "You are lost, Sire; I had the
presentiment of it when I came: now, in going, I have the certainty."
In the anteroom the generals crowded around the illustrious visitor.
Berthier had previously begged him to remember that Europe, and
France, urgently needed peace; and now, on conducting him to his
carriage, he asked him whether he was satisfied with Napoleon. "Yes,"
was the answer, "he has explained everything to me: it is all over
with the man."[328]

Substantially, this was the case. Napoleon's resentment against
Austria, not unnatural under the circumstances, had hurried him into
outbursts that revealed the inner fires of his passion. In a second
interview, on June 30th, he was far more gracious, and allowed Austria
to hope that she would gain Illyria. He also accepted Austria's
mediation; and it was stipulated that a Congress should meet at Prague
for the discussion of a general pacification. Metternich appeared
highly pleased with this condescension, but he knew by experience that
Napoleon's caresses were as dangerous as his wrath; and he remained on
his guard. The Emperor soon disclosed his real aim. In gracious tones
he added: "But this is not all: I must have a prolongation of the
armistice. How can we between July 5th and 20th end a negotiation
which ought to embrace the whole world?" He proposed August 20th as
the date of its expiration. To this Metternich demurred because the
allies already thought the armistice too long for their interests.
August 10th was finally agreed on, but not without much opposition on
the part of the allied generals, who insisted that such a prolongation
would greatly embarrass them.

Outwardly, this new arrangement seemed to portend peace: but it is
significant that on June 28th Napoleon wrote to Eugène that all the
probabilities appeared for war; and on June 30th he wrote his
father-in-law a cold and almost threatening letter.[329]

Late on that very evening came to hand the first report of the
disaster of Vittoria. Despite all Napoleon's precautions, the news
leaked out at Dresden. Bubna's despatches of July 5th, 6th, and 7th
soon made it known to the Emperor Francis, then at Brandeis in
Bohemia. Thence it reached the allied monarchs and Bernadotte on July
12th at Trachenberg in the midst of negotiations which will be
described presently. The effect of the news was very great. The Czar
at once ordered a Te Deum to be sung: "It is the first instance,"
wrote Cathcart, "of a Te Deum having been sung at this Court for a
victory in which the forces of the Russian Empire were not
engaged."[330] But its results were more than ceremonial: they were
practical. Our envoy, Thornton, who followed Bernadotte to
Trachenberg, states that Bubna had learnt that Wellington had
completely routed three French corps with a _débandade_ like that of
the retreat from Moscow. Thornton adds: "The Prince Royal [Bernadotte]
thinks that the French army will be very soon withdrawn from Silesia
and that Buonaparte must soon commence his retreat nearer the Rhine. I
have no doubt of its effect upon Austria. This is visible in the
answer of the Emperor [Francis] to the Prince, which came to-day from
the Austrian head-quarters." That letter, dated July 9th, was indeed
of the most cordial character. It expressed great pleasure at hearing
that "the obstacles which seemed to hinder the co-operation of the
forces under your Royal Highness are now removed. I regard this
co-operation as one of the surest supports of the cause which the
Powers may once more be called on to defend by a war which can only
offer chances of success unless sustained by the greatest and most
unanimous measures."[331] Further than this Francis could scarcely go
without pledging himself unconditionally to an alliance; and doubtless
it was the news of Vittoria that evoked these encouraging assurances.

It is even more certain that the compact of Trachenberg also helped to
end the hesitations of Austria. This compact arose out of the urgent
need of adopting a general plan of campaign, and, above all, of ending
the disputes between the allied sovereigns and Bernadotte. The Prince
Royal of Sweden had lost their confidence through his failure to save
Hamburg from the French and Danes. Yet, on his side, he had some cause
for complaint. In the previous summer, Alexander led him to expect the
active aid of 35,000 Russian troops for a campaign in Norway: but,
mainly at the instance of England, he now landed in Pomerania and left
Sweden exposed to a Danish attack on the side of Norway. He therefore
suggested an interview with the allied sovereigns, a request which was
warmly seconded by Castlereagh.[332] Accordingly it took place at
Trachenberg, a castle north of Breslau, with the happiest results. The
warmth of the great Gascon's manner cleared away all clouds, and won
the approval of Frederick William.

There was signed the famous compact, or plan, of Trachenberg (July
12th). It bound the allies to turn their main forces against
Napoleon's chief army, wherever it was: those allied corps that
threatened his flanks or communications were to act on the line that
most directly cut into them: and the salient bastion of Bohemia was
expressly named as offering the greatest advantages for attacking
Napoleon's main force. The first and third of these axioms were
directly framed so as to encourage Austria: the second aimed at
concentrating Bernadotte's force on the main struggle and preventing
his waging war merely against Denmark.

The plan went even further: 100,000 allied troops were to be sent into
Bohemia, as soon as the armistice should cease, so as to form in all
an army of 200,000 men. On the north, Bernadotte, after detaching a
corps towards Hamburg, was to advance with a Russo-Prusso-Swedish army
of 70,000 men towards the middle course of the Elbe, his objective
being Leipzig; and the rest of the allied forces, those remaining in
Silesia, were to march towards Torgau, and thus threaten Napoleon's
positions in Saxony from the East. This plan of campaign was an
immense advance on those of the earlier coalitions. There was no
reliance here on lines and camps: the days of Mack and Phull were
past: the allies had at last learnt from Napoleon the need of seeking
out the enemy's chief army, and of flinging at it all the available
forces. Politically, also, the compact deserves notice. In concerting
a plan of offensive operations from Bohemia, the allies were going far
to determine the conduct of Austria.

On that same day the peace Congress was opened at Prague. Its
proceedings were farcical from the outset. Only Anstett and Humboldt,
the Russian and Prussian envoys, were at hand; and at the appointment
of the former, an Alsatian by birth, Napoleon expressed great
annoyance. The difficulties about the armistice also gave him the
opportunity, which he undoubtedly sought, of further delaying
negotiations. In vain did Metternich point out to the French envoy,
Narbonne, at Prague, that these frivolous delays must lead to war if
matters were not amicably settled by August 10th, at midnight.[333] In
vain did Narbonne and Caulaincourt beg their master to seize this
opportunity for concluding a safe and honourable peace. It was not
till the middle of July that he appointed them his plenipotentiaries
at the Congress; and, even then, he retained the latter at Dresden,
while the former fretted in forced inaction at Prague. "I send you
more _powers_ than _power_," wrote Maret to Narbonne with cynical
jauntiness: "you will have your hands tied, but your legs and mouth
free so that you may walk about and dine."[334] At last, on the 26th,
Caulaincourt received his instructions; but what must have been the
anguish of this loyal son of France to see that Napoleon was courting
war with a united Europe. Austria, said his master, was acting as
mediator: and the mediator ought not to look for gains: she had made
no sacrifice and deserved to gain nothing at all: her claims were
limitless; and every concession granted by France would encourage her
to ask for more: he was disposed to make peace with Russia on
satisfactory terms so as to punish Austria for her bad faith in
breaking the alliance of 1812.[335]

Such trifling with the world's peace seems to belong, not to the
sphere of history, but to the sombre domain of Greek tragedy, where
mortals full blown with pride rush blindly on the embossed bucklers of
fate. For what did Austria demand of him? She proposed to leave him
master of all the lands from the swamps of the Ems down to the Roman
Campagna: Italy was to be his, along with as much of the Iberian
Peninsula as he could hold. His control of Illyria, North Germany, and
the Rhenish Confederation he must give up. But France, Belgium,
Holland, and Italy would surely form a noble realm for a man who had
lost half a million of men, and was even now losing Spain. Yet his
correspondence proves that, even so, he thought little of his foes,
and, least of all, of the Congress at Prague.

Leaving his plenipotentiaries tied down to the discussion of matters
of form, he set out from Dresden on July 24th for a visit to Mainz,
where he met the Empress and reviewed his reserves. Every item of news
fed his warlike resolve. Soult, with nearly 100,000 men, was about to
relieve Pamplona (so he wrote to Caulaincourt): the English were
retiring in confusion: 12,000 veteran horsemen from his armies in
Spain would soon be on the Rhine; but they could not be on the Elbe
before September. If the allies wanted a longer armistice, he
(Napoleon) would agree to it: if they wished to fight, he was equally
ready, even against the Austrians as well.[336]

To Davoust, at Hamburg, he expressed himself as if war was certain;
and he ordered Clarke, at Paris, to have 110,000 muskets made by the
end of the year, so that, in all, 400,000 would be ready. Letters
about the Congress are conspicuous by their absence; and everything
proves that, as he wrote to Clarke at the beginning of the armistice,
he purposed striking his great blows in September. Little by little we
see the emergence of his final plan--_to overthrow Russia and Prussia,
while, for a week or two, he amused Austria with separate overtures at
Prague_.

But, during eight years of adversity, European statesmen had learnt
that disunion spelt disaster; and it was evident that Napoleon's
delays were prompted solely by the need of equipping and training his
new cavalry brigades. As for the Congress, no one took it seriously.
Gentz, who was then in close contact with Metternich, saw how this
tragi-comedy would end. "We believe that on his return to Dresden,
Napoleon will address to this Court a solemn Note in which he will
accuse everybody of the delays which he himself has caused, and will
end up by proclaiming a sort of ultimatum. Our reply will be a
declaration of war."[337]

This was what happened. As July wore on and brought no peaceful
overtures, but rather a tightening of Napoleon's coils in Saxony,
Bavaria, and Illyria, the Emperor Francis inclined towards war. As
late as July 18th he wrote to Metternich that he was still for peace,
provided that Illyria could be gained.[338]

But the French military preparations decided him, a few days later, to
make war, unless every one of the Austrian demands should be conceded
by August 10th. His counsellors had already come to that conclusion,
as our records prove. On July 20th Stadion wrote to Cathcart urging
him to give pecuniary aid to General Nugent, who would wait on him to
concert means for rousing a revolt against Napoleon in Tyrol and North
Italy; and our envoy agreed to give £5,000 a month for the "support of
5,000 Austrians acting in communication with our squadron in the
Adriatic." This step met with Metternich's approval; and, when writing
to Stadion from Prague (July 25th), he counselled Cathcart to send a
despatch to Wellington and urge him to make a vigorous move against
the south of France. He (Metternich) would have the letter sent safely
through Switzerland and the south of France direct to our
general.[339]

With the solemn triflings of the Congress we need not concern
ourselves. The French plenipotentiaries saw clearly that their master
"would allow of no peace but that which he should himself dictate with
his foot on the enemy's neck." Yet they persevered in their thankless
task, for "who could tell whether the Emperor, when he found himself
placed between highly favourable conditions and the fear of having
200,000 additional troops against him, might not hesitate; whether
just one grain of common sense, one spark of wisdom, might not enter
his head?" Alas! That brain was now impervious to advice; and the
young De Broglie, from whom we quote this extract, sums up the opinion
of the French plenipotentiaries in the trenchant phrase, "the devil
was in him."[340]

But there was method in his madness. In the Dresden interview he had
warned Metternich that not till the eleventh hour would he disclose
his real demands. And now was the opportunity of trying the effect of
a final act of intimidation. On August 4th he was back again in
Dresden: on the next day he dictated the secret conditions on which he
would accept Austria's mediation; and, on August 6th, Caulaincourt
paid Metternich a private visit to find out what Austria's terms
really were. After a flying visit to the Emperor Francis at Brandeis,
the Minister brought back as an ultimatum the six terms drawn up on
June 7th (see p. 316); and to these he now added another which
guaranteed the existing possessions of every State, great or small.

Napoleon was taken aback by this boldness, which he attributed to the
influence of Spanish affairs and to English intrigues.[341] On August
9th he summoned Bubna and offered to give up the Duchy of
Warsaw--provided that the King of Saxony gained an indemnity--also the
Illyrian Provinces (but without Istria), as well as Danzig, if its
fortifications were destroyed. As for the Hanse Towns and North
Germany, he would not hear of letting them go. Bubna thought that
Austria would acquiesce. But she had said her last word: she saw that
Napoleon was trifling with her until he had disposed of Russia and
Prussia. And, at midnight of August 10th, beacon fires on the heights
of the Riesengebirge flashed the glad news to the allies in Silesia
that they might begin to march their columns into Bohemia. The second
and vaster Act in the drama of liberation had begun.

Did Napoleon remember, in that crisis of his destiny, that it was
exactly twenty-one years since the downfall of the old French
monarchy, when he looked forth on the collapse of the royalist defence
at the Tuileries and the fruitless bravery of the Swiss Guards?

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXV

DRESDEN AND LEIPZIG


The militant Revolution had now attained its majority. It had to
confront an embattled Europe. Hitherto the jealousies or fears of the
Eastern Powers had prevented any effective union. The Austro-Prussian
league of 1792 was of the loosest description owing to the astute
neutrality of the Czarina Catherine. In 1798 and 1805 Prussia seemed
to imitate her policy, and only after Austria had been crushed did the
army of Frederick the Great try conclusions with Napoleon. In the Jena
and Friedland campaigns, the Hapsburgs played the part of the sulking
Achilles, and met their natural reward in 1809. The war of 1812
marshalled both Austria and Prussia as vassal States in Napoleon's
crusade against Russia. But it also brought salvation, and Napoleon's
fateful obstinacy during the negotiations at Prague virtually
compelled his own father-in-law to draw the sword against him.
Ostensibly, the points at issue were finally narrowed down to the
control of the Confederation of the Rhine, the ownership of North
Germany, and a few smaller points. But really there was a deeper
cause, the character of Napoleon.

The vindictiveness with which he had trampled on his foes, his almost
superhuman lust of domination, and the halting way in which he met all
overtures for a compromise--this it was that drove the Hapsburgs into
an alliance with their traditional foes. His conduct may be explained
on diverse grounds, as springing from the vendetta instincts of his
race, or from his still viewing events through the distorting medium
of the Continental System, or from his ingrained conviction that, at
bottom, rulers are influenced only by intimidation.

In any case, he had now succeeded in bringing about the very thing
which Charles James Fox had declared to be impossible. In opening the
negotiations for peace with France in April, 1806, our Foreign
Minister had declared to Talleyrand that "the project of combining the
whole of Europe against France is to the last degree chimerical." Yet
Great Britain and the Spanish patriots, after struggling alone against
the conqueror from 1808 to 1812, saw Russia, Sweden, Prussia, and
Austria, successively range themselves on their side. It is true, the
Germans of the Rhenish Confederation, the Italians, Swiss, and Danes
were still enrolled under the banners of the new Charlemagne; but,
with the exception of the last, they fought wearily or questioningly,
as for a cause that promised naught but barren triumphs and unending
strife.

Truly, the years that witnessed Napoleon's fall were fruitful in
paradox. The greatest political genius of the age, for lack of the
saving grace of moderation, had banded Europe against him: and the
most calculating of commanders had also given his enemies time to
frame an effective military combination. The Prussian General von
Boyen has told us in his Memoirs how dismayed ardent patriots were at
the conclusion of the armistice in June, and how slow even the wiser
heads were to see that it would benefit their cause. If Napoleon
needed it in order to train his raw conscripts and organize new
brigades of cavalry, the need of the allies was even greater. Their
resources were far less developed than his own. At Bautzen, their army
was much smaller; and Boyen states that had the Emperor pushed them
hard, driven the Russians back into Poland and called the Poles once
more to arms, the allies must have been in the most serious
straits.[342]

Napoleon, it is true, gained much by the armistice. His conscripts
profited immensely by the training of those nine weeks: his forces now
threatened Austria on the side of Bavaria and Illyria, as well as from
the newly intrenched camp south of Dresden: his cavalry was
re-recovering its old efficiency: Murat, in answer to his imperious
summons, ended his long vacillations and joined the army at Dresden on
August 14th.

Above all, the French now firmly held that great military barrier, the
River Elbe. Napoleon's obstinacy during the armistice was undoubtedly
fed by his boundless confidence in the strength of his military
position. In vain did his Marshals remind him that he was dangerously
far from France; that, if Austria drew the sword, she could cut him
off from the Rhine, and that the Saale, or even the Rhine itself,
would be a safer line of defence.--Ten battles lost, he retorted,
would scarcely force him to that last step. True, he now exposed his
line of communications with France; but if the art of war consisted in
never running any risk, glory would be the prize of mediocre minds. He
must have a complete triumph. The question was not of abandoning this
or that province: his political superiority was at stake. At Marengo,
Austerlitz, and Wagram, he was in greater danger. His forces now were
not _in the air_; they rested on the Elbe, on its fortresses, and on
Erfurt. Dresden was the pivot on which all his movements turned. His
enemies were spread out on a circumference stretching from Prague to
Berlin, while he was at the centre; and, operating on interior and
therefore shorter lines, he could outmarch and outmanoeuvre them.
"_But_," he concluded, "_where I am not my lieutenants must wait for
me without trusting anything to chance_. The allies cannot long act
together on lines so extended, and can I not reasonably hope sooner or
later to catch them in some false move? If they venture between my
fortified lines of the Elbe and the Rhine, I will enter Bohemia and
thus take them in the rear."[343]

The plan promised much. The central intrenched camps of Dresden and
Pirna, together with the fortresses of Königstein above, and of Torgau
below, the Saxon capital, gave great strategic advantages. The corps
of St. Cyr at Königstein and those of Vandamme, Poniatowski, and
Victor further to the east, watched the defiles leading from Bohemia.
The corps of Macdonald, Lauriston, Ney, and Marmont held in check
Blücher's army of Silesia. On Napoleon's left, and resting on the
fortresses of Wittenberg and Magdeburg, the corps of Oudinot,
Bertrand, and Reynier threatened Berlin and Bernadotte's army of the
north cantonned in its neighbourhood; while Davoust at Hamburg faced
Bernadotte's northern detachments and menaced his communications with
Stralsund. Davoust certainly was far away, and the loss of this ablest
of Napoleon's lieutenants was severely to be felt in the subsequent
complicated moves; with this exception, however, Napoleon's troops
were well in hand and had the advantage of the central position, while
the allies were, as yet, spread out on an extended arc.

But Napoleon once more made the mistake of underrating both the
numbers and the abilities of his foes. By great exertions they now had
close on half a million of men under arms, near the banks of the Oder
and the Elbe, or advancing from Poland and Hungary. True, many of
these were reserves or raw recruits, and Colonel Cathcart doubted
whether the Austrian reserves were then in existence.[344] But the
best authorities place the total at 496,000 men and 1,443 cannon.
Moreover, as was agreed on at Trachenberg, 77,000 Russians and 49,000
Prussians now marched from Glatz and Schweidnitz into Bohemia, and
speedily came into touch with the 110,000 Austrians now ranged behind
the River Eger. The formation of this allied Grand Army was a masterly
step. Napoleon did not hear of it before August 16th, and it was not
until a week later that he realized how vast were the forces that
would threaten his rear. For the present his plan was to hold the
Bohemian passes south of Bautzen and Pirna, so as to hinder any
invasion of Saxony, while he threw himself in great force on the Army
of Silesia, now 95,000 strong, though he believed it to number only
50,000.[345] While he was crushing Blücher, his lieutenants, Oudinot,
Reynier, and Bertrand, were charged to drive Bernadotte's scattered
corps from Berlin; whereupon Davoust was to cut him off from the sea
and relieve the French garrisons at Stettin and Küstrin. Thus Napoleon
proposed to act on the offensive in the open country towards Berlin
and in Silesia, remaining at first on the defensive at Dresden and in
the Lusatian mountains. This was against the advice of Marmont, who
urged him to strike first at Prague, and not to intrust his
lieutenants with great undertakings far away from Dresden. The advice
proved to be sound; but it seems certain that Napoleon intended to
open the campaign by a mighty blow dealt at Blücher, and then to lead
a great force through the Lusatian defiles into Bohemia and drive the
allies before him towards Vienna.

But what did he presume that the allied forces in Bohemia would be
doing while he overwhelmed Blücher in Silesia? Would not Dresden and
his communications with France be left open to their blows? He decided
to run this risk. He had 100,000 men among the Lusatian hills between
Bautzen and Zittau. St. Cyr's corps was strongly posted at Pirna and
the small fortress of Königstein, while his light troops watched the
passes north of Teplitz and Karlsbad. If the allies sought to invade
Saxony, they would, so Napoleon thought, try to force the Zittau road,
which presented few natural difficulties. If they threatened Dresden
by the passages further west, Vandamme would march from near Zittau to
reinforce St. Cyr, or, if need be, the Emperor himself would hurry
back from Silesia with his Guards. If the enemy invaded Bavaria,
Napoleon wished them _bon voyage_: they would soon come back faster
than they went; for, in that case, he would pour his columns down from
Zittau towards Prague and Vienna. The thought that he might for a time
be cut off from France troubled him not: "400,000 men," he said,
"resting on a system of strongholds, on a river like the Elbe, are not
to be turned." In truth, he thought little about the Bohemian army. If
40,000 Russians had entered Bohemia, they would not reach Prague till
the 25th; so he wrote to St. Cyr On the 17th, the day when hostilities
could first begin; and he evidently believed that Dresden would be
safe till September. Its defence seemed assured by the skill of that
master of defensive warfare, St. Cyr, by the barrier of the Erz
Mountains, and still more by Austrian slowness.

Of this characteristic of theirs he cherished great hopes. Their
finances were in dire disorder; and Fouché, who had just returned from
a tour in the Hapsburg States, reported that the best way of striking
at that Power would be "to affect its paper currency, on which all its
armaments depend."[346] And truly if the transport of a great army
over a mountain range had depended solely on the almost bankrupt
exchequer at Vienna, Dresden would have been safe until Michaelmas;
but, beside the material aid brought by the Russians and Prussians
into Bohemia, England also gave her financial support. In pursuance of
the secret article agreed on at Reichenbach, Cathcart now advanced
£250,000 at once; and the knowledge that our financial support was
given to the federative paper notes issued by the allies enabled the
Court of Vienna privately to raise loans and to wage war with a vigour
wholly unexpected by Napoleon.[347]

Certainly the allied Grand Army suffered from no lack of advisers. The
Czar, the Emperor Francis, and the King of Prussia were there; as a
compliment to Austria, the command was intrusted to Field-Marshal
Schwarzenberg, a man of diplomatic ability rather than of military
genius. By his side were the Russians, Wittgenstein, Barclay, and
Toll, the Prussian Knesebeck, the Swiss Jomini, and, above all,
Moreau.

The last-named, as we have seen, came over on the inducement of
Bernadotte, and was received with great honour by the allied
sovereigns. Jomini also was welcomed for his knowledge of the art of
war. This great writer had long served as a French general; but the
ill-treatment that he had lately suffered at Berthier's hands led him,
on August 14th, to quit the French service and pass over to the
allies. His account of his desertion, however, makes it clear that he
had not penetrated Napoleon's designs, for the best of all reasons,
because the Emperor kept them to himself to the very last moment.[348]

The second part of the campaign opens with the curious sight of
immense forces, commanded by experienced leaders, acting in complete
ignorance of the moves of the enemy only some fifty miles away.
Leaving Bautzen on August 17th, Napoleon proceeded eastwards to
Görlitz, turned off thence to Zittau, and hearing a false rumour that
the Russo-Prussian force in Bohemia was only 40,000 strong, returned
to Görlitz with the aim of crushing Blücher. Disputes about the
armistice had given that enterprising leader the excuse for entering
the neutral zone before its expiration; and he had had sharp affairs
with Macdonald and Ney near Löwenberg on the River Bober. Napoleon
hurried up with his Guards, eager to catch Blücher;[349] the French
were now 140,000 strong, while the allies had barely 95,000 at hand.
But the Prussian veteran, usually as daring as a lion, was now wily as
a fox. Under cover of stiff outpost affairs, he skilfully withdrew to
the south-east, hoping to lure the French into the depths of Silesia
and so give time to Schwarzenberg to seize Dresden.

[Illustration: CAMPAIGN OF 1813]

But Napoleon was not to be drawn further afield. Seeing that his foes
could not be forced to a pitched battle, he intrusted the command to
Macdonald, and rapidly withdrew with Ney and his Guard towards
Görlitz; for he now saw the possible danger to Dresden if
Schwarzenberg struck home. If, however, that leader remained on the
defensive, the Emperor determined to fall back on what had all along
been his second plan, and make a rush through the Lusatian defiles on
Prague.[350] But a despatch from St. Cyr, which reached him at Görlitz
late at night on the 23rd, showed that Dresden was in serious danger
from the gathering masses of the allies. This news consigned his
second plan to the limbo of vain hopes. Yet, as will appear a little
later, his determination to defend by taking the offensive soon took
form in yet a third design for the destruction of the allies.

It is a proof of the quenchless pugnacity of his mind that he framed
this plan during the fatigues of the long forced march back towards
Dresden, amidst pouring rain and the discouragement of knowing that
his raid into Silesia had ended merely in the fruitless wearying of
his choicest troops. Accompanied by the Old Guard, the Young Guard, a
division of infantry, and Latour-Maubourg's cavalry, he arrived at
Stolpen, south-east of Dresden, before dawn of the 25th. Most of the
battalions had traversed forty miles in little more than forty-eight
hours, and that, too, after a partial engagement at Löwenberg, and
despite lack of regular rations. Leaving him for a time, we turn to
glance at the fortunes of the war in Brandenburg and Silesia.

Napoleon had bidden Oudinot, with his own corps and those of Reynier
and Bertrand, in all about 70,000 men, to fight his way to Berlin,
disperse the Landwehr and the "mad rabble" there, and, if the city
resisted, set it in flames by the fire of fifty howitzers. That
Marshal found that a tough resistance awaited him, although the allied
commander-in-chief, Bernadotte, moved with the utmost caution, as if
he were bent on justifying Napoleon's recent sneer that he would "only
make a show" (_piaffer_). It is true that the position of the Swedish
Prince, with Davoust threatening his rear, was far from safe; but he
earned the dislike of the Prussians by playing the _grand
seigneur_.[351] Meanwhile most of the defence was carried out by the
Prussians, who flooded the flat marshy land, thus delaying Oudinot's
advance and compelling him to divide his corps. Nevertheless, it
seemed that Bernadotte was about to evacuate Berlin.

At this there was general indignation, which found vent in the retort
of the Prussian General, von Bülow: "Our bones shall bleach in front
of Berlin, not behind it." Seeing an opportune moment while Oudinot's
other corps were as yet far off, Bülow sharply attacked Reynier's
corps of Saxons at Grossbeeren, and gained a brilliant success, taking
1,700 prisoners with 26 guns, and thus compelling Oudinot's scattered
array to fall back in confusion on Wittenberg (August 23rd).[352]
Thither the Crown Prince cautiously followed him. Four days later, a
Prussian column of Landwehr fought a desperate fight at Hagelberg with
Girard's conscripts, finally rushing on them with wolf-like fury,
stabbing and clubbing them, till the foss and the lanes of the town
were piled high with dead and wounded. Scarce 1,700 out of Girard's
9,000 made good their flight to Magdeburg. The failures at Grossbeeren
and Hagelberg reacted unfavourably on Davoust. That leader, advancing
into Mecklenburg, had skirmished with Walmoden's corps of Hanoverians,
British, and Hanseatics; but, hearing of the failure of the other
attempts on Berlin, he fell back and confined himself mainly to a
defensive which had never entered into the Emperor's designs on that
side, or indeed on any side.

Even when Napoleon left Macdonald facing Blücher in Silesia, his
orders were, not merely to keep the allies in check: if possible
Macdonald was to attack him and drive him beyond the town of
Jauer.[353] This was what the French Marshal attempted to do on the
26th of August. The conditions seemed favourable to a surprise.
Blücher's army was stationed amidst hilly country deeply furrowed by
the valleys of the Katzbach and the "raging Neisse."[354] Less than
half of the allied army of 95,000 men was composed of Prussians: the
Russians naturally obeyed his orders with some reluctance, and even
his own countryman, Yorck, grudgingly followed the behests of the
"hussar general."

Macdonald also hoped to catch the allies while they were sundered by
the deep valley of the Neisse. The Prussians with the Russian corps
led by Sacken were to the east of the Neisse near the village of
Eichholz, the central point of the plateau north of Jauer, which was
the objective of the French right wing; while Langeron's Russian corps
was at Hennersdorf, some three miles away and on the west of that
torrent. On his side, Blücher was planning an attack on Macdonald,
when he heard that the French had crossed the Neisse near its
confluence with the Katzbach, and were struggling up the streaming
gullies that led to Eichholz.

Driving rain-storms hid the movements on both sides, and as Souham,
who led the French right, had neglected to throw out flanking scouts,
the Prussian staff-officer, Muffling, was able to ride within a short
distance of the enemy's columns and report to his chief that they
could be assailed before their masses were fully deployed on the
plateau. While Souham's force was still toiling up, Sacken's artillery
began to ply it with shot, and had Yorck charged quickly with his
corps of Prussians, the day might have been won forthwith. But that
opinionated general insisted on leisurely deploying his men. Souham
was therefore able to gain a foothold on the plateau: Sebastiani's men
dragged up twenty-four light cannon: and at times the devoted bravery
of the French endangered the defence. But the defects in their
position slowly but surely told against them, and the vigour of their
attack spent itself. Their cavalry was exhausted by the mud: their
muskets were rendered wellnigh useless by the ceaseless rain; and when
Blücher late in the afternoon headed a dashing charge of Prussian and
Russian horsemen, the wearied conscripts gave way, fled pell-mell down
the slopes, and made for the fords of the Neisse and the Katzbach,
where many were engulfed by the swollen waters. Meanwhile the Russians
on the allied left barely kept off Lauriston's onsets, and on that
side the day ended in a drawn fight. Macdonald, however, seeing
Lauriston's rear threatened by the advance of the Prussians over the
Katzbach, retreated during the night with all his forces. On the next
few days, the allies, pressing on his wearied and demoralized troops,
completed their discomfiture, so that Blücher, on the 1st of
September, was able thus to sum up the results of the battle and the
pursuit--two eagles, 103 cannon, 18,000 men, and a vast quantity of
ammunition and stores captured, and Silesia entirely freed from the
foe.[355]

We now return to the events that centred at Dresden. When, on August
21st and 22nd, the allies wound their way through the passes of the
Erz, they were wholly ignorant of Napoleon's whereabouts. The
generals, Jomini and Toll, who were acquainted with the plan of
operations agree in stating that the aim of the allies was to seize
Leipzig. The latter asserts that they believed Napoleon to be there,
while the Swiss strategist saw in this movement merely a means of
effecting a junction with Bernadotte's army, so as to cut off Napoleon
from the Rhine.[356] Unaware that the rich prize of Dresden was left
almost within their grasp by Napoleon's eastward move, the allies
plodded on towards Freiberg and Chemnitz, when, on the 23rd, the
capture of one of St. Cyr's despatches flashed the truth upon them.

At once they turned eastwards towards Dresden; but so slow was their
progress over the wretched cross-roads now cut up by the rains, that
not till the early morning of the 25th did the heads of their columns
appear on the heights south-west of the Saxon capital. Yet, even so,
the omens were all in their favour. On their right, Wittgenstein had
already carried the French lines at Pirna, and was now driving in St.
Cyr's outposts towards Dresden. The daring spirits at Schwarzenberg's
headquarters therefore begged him to push on the advantage already
gained, while Napoleon was still far away. Everything, they asserted,
proved that the French were surprised; Dresden could not long hold out
against an attack by superior numbers: its position in a river valley
dominated by the southern and western slopes, which the allies
strongly held, was fatal to a prolonged defence: the thirteen redoubts
hastily thrown up by the French could not long keep an army at bay,
and of these only five were on the left side of the Elbe on which the
allies were now encamped.

Against these manly counsels the voice of prudence pleaded for delay.
It was not known how strong were St. Cyr's forces in Dresden and in
the intrenched camp south of the city. Would it not therefore be
better to await the development of events? Such was the advice of Toll
and Moreau, the latter warning the Czar, with an earnestness which we
may deem fraught with destiny for himself--"Sire, if we attack, we
shall lose 20,000 men and break our nose."[357] The multitude of
counsellors did not tend to safety. Distracted by the strife of
tongues, Schwarzenberg finally took refuge in that last resort of weak
minds, a tame compromise. He decided to wait until further corps
reached the front, and at four o'clock of the following afternoon _to
push forward five columns for a general reconnaissance in force_. As
Jomini has pointed out, this plan rested on sheer confusion of
thought. If the commander meant merely to find out the strength of the
defenders, that could be ascertained at once by sending forward light
troops, screened by skirmishers, at the important points. If he wished
to attack in force, his movement was timed too late in the day safely
to effect a lodgment in a large city held by a resolute foe. Moreover,
the postponement of the attack for thirty hours gave time for the
French Emperor to appear on the scene with his Guards.

As we have seen, Napoleon reached Stolpen, a town distant some sixteen
miles from Dresden, very early on the morning of the 25th. His plans
present a telling contrast to the slow and clumsy arrangements of the
allies. He proposed to hurl his Guards at their rear and cut them off
from Bohemia. Crossing the Elbe at Königstein, he would recover the
camp of Pirna, hold the plateau further west and intercept
Schwarzenberg's retreat.[358] For the success of this plan he needed a
day's rest for his wearied Guards and the knowledge that Dresden could
hold out for a short time. His veterans could perhaps dispense with
rest; where their Emperor went they would follow; but Dresden was the
unknown quantity. Shortly after midnight of the 25th and 26th, he
heard from St. Cyr that Dresden would soon be attacked in such force
that a successful defence was doubtful.

At once he changed his plan and at 1 a.m. sent off four despatches
ordering his Guards and all available troops to succour St. Cyr.
Vandamme's corps alone was now charged with the task of creeping round
the enemy's rear, while the Guards long before dawn resumed their
march through the rain and mud. The Emperor followed and passed them
at a gallop, reaching the capital at 9 a.m. with Latour-Maubourg's
cuirassiers; and, early in the afternoon, the bearskins of the Guards
were seen on the heights east of Dresden, while the dark masses of the
allies were gathering on the south and west for their reconnaissance
in force.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF DRESDEN]

Lowering clouds and pitiless rain robbed the scene of all brilliance,
but wreathed it with a certain sombre majesty. On the one side was the
fair city, the centre of German art and culture, hastily girdled with
redoubts and intrenchments manned now by some 120,000 defenders. Fears
and murmurings had vanished as soon as the Emperor appeared; and
though in many homes men still longed for the triumph of the allies,
yet loyalty to their King and awe of Napoleon held the great mass of
the citizens true to his alliance. As for the French soldiery, their
enthusiasm was unbounded. As regiment after regiment tramped in
wearily from the east over the Elbe bridge and the men saw that
well-known figure in the gray overcoat, fatigues and discomforts were
forgotten; thunderous shouts of "Vive l'Empereur" rent the air and
rolled along the stream, carrying inspiration to the defenders, doubt
and dismay to the hostile lines. Yet these too were being
strengthened, until they finally mustered close on 200,000 men, who
crowned the slopes south of Dresden with a war-cloud that promised to
sweep away its hasty defences--had not Napoleon been there.

The news of his arrival shook the nerves of the Russian Emperor, and
it was reserved for the usually diffident King of Prussia to combat
all notion of retreat. Schwarzenberg's reconnaissance in force
therefore took place punctually at four o'clock, when the French,
after a brief rest, were well prepared to meet them. The Prussians had
already seized the "Great Garden" which lines the Pirna road; and from
this point of vantage they now sought to drive St. Cyr from the works
thrown up on its flank and rear. But their masses were torn by a
deadly fire and finally fell back shattered. The Russians, on their
right, fared no better. At the allied centre and left, the attack at
one time promised success. Under cover of a heavy cannonade from their
slopes, the Austrians carried two redoubts: but, with a desperate
charge, the Old Guard drove in through the gorges of these works and
bayoneted the victors of an hour. As night fell, the assailants drew
off baffled, after sustaining serious losses.

Nevertheless, the miseries of the night, the heavy rains of the
dawning day and the knowledge of the strength of the enemy's position
in front and of Vandamme's movement in their rear, failed to daunt
their spirits. If they were determined, Napoleon was radiant with
hope. His force, though smaller, held the inner line and spread over
some three miles; while the concave front of the allies extended over
double that space, and their left wing was separated from the centre
by the stream and defile of Plauen. From his inner position he could
therefore readily throw an overpowering mass on any part of their
attenuated array. He prepared to do so against their wings. At those
points everything promised success to his methods of attack.

Never, perhaps, in all modern warfare has the musket been so useless
as amidst the drenching rains which beat upon the fighters at the
Katzbach and before Dresden. So defective was its firing arrangement
then that after a heavy storm only a feeble sputter came from whole
battalions of foot: and on those two eventful days the honours lay
with the artillery and _l'arme blanche_. As for the infantrymen, they
could effect little except in some wild snatches of bayonet work at
close quarters. This explains the course of events both at the
Katzbach on the 26th, and at Dresden on the following day. The allied
centre was too strongly posted on the slopes south of Dresden to be
assailed with much hope of success. But, against the Russian vanguard
on the allied right, Napoleon launched Mortier's corps and Nansouty's
cavalry with complete success, until Wittgenstein's masses on the
heights stayed the French onset. Along the centre, some thousand
cannon thundered against one another, but with no very noteworthy
result, save that Moreau had his legs carried away by a shot from a
field battery that suddenly opened upon the Czar's suite. It was the
first shot that dealt him this fatal wound, but several other balls
fell among the group until Alexander and his staff moved away.

Meanwhile the great blow was struck by Napoleon at the allied left.
There the Austrian wing was sundered from the main force by the
difficult defile of Plauen; and it was crushed by one of the Emperor's
most brilliant combinations. Directing Victor with 20,000 men of all
arms to engage the white-coats in front, he bade Murat, with 10,000
horsemen, steal round near the bank of the Elbe and charge their flank
and rear. The division of Count Metzko bore the brunt of this terrible
onset. Nobly it resisted. Though not one musket in fifty would fire,
the footmen in one place beat off two charges of Latour-Maubourg's
cuirassiers, until he headed his line with lancers, who mangled their
ranks and opened a way for the sword.[359] Then all was slaughter; and
as Murat's squadrons raged along their broken lines, 10,000 footmen,
cut off from the main body, laid down their arms. News of this
disaster on the left and the sound of Vandamme's cannon thundering
among the hills west of Pirna decided the allied sovereigns and
Schwarzenberg to prepare for a timely retreat into Bohemia. Yet so
bold a front did they keep at the centre and right that the waning
light showed the combatants facing each other there on even terms.

During the night, the rumbling of wagons warned Marmont's scouts that
the enemy were retreating;[360] and the Emperor, coming up at break of
day, ordered that Marshal and St. Cyr to press directly on their rear,
while Murat pursued the fugitives along the Freiburg road further to
the west. The outcome of these two days of fighting was most serious
for the allies. They lost 35,000 men in killed, wounded and
prisoners--a natural result of their neglect to seize Fortune's
bounteous favours on the 25th; a result, too, of Napoleon's rapid
movements and unerring sagacity in profiting by the tactical blunders
of his foes.

It was the last of his great victories. And even here the golden fruit
which he hoped to cull crumbled to bitter dust in his grasp. As has
been pointed out, he had charged General Vandamme, one of the sternest
fighters in the French army, to undertake with 38,000 men a task which
he himself had previously hoped to achieve with more than double that
number. This was to seize Pirna and the plateau to the west, which
commands the three roads leading towards Teplitz in Bohemia. The best
of these roads crosses the Erzgebirge by way of Nollendorf and the
gorge leading down to Kulm, the other by the Zinnwald pass, while
between them is a third and yet more difficult track. Vandamme was to
take up a position west or south-west of Pirna so as to cut off the
retreat of the foe.

Accordingly, he set out from Stolpen at dawn of the 26th, and on the
next two days fought his way far round the rear of the allied Grand
Army. A Russian force of 14,000 men, led by the young Prince Eugène of
Würtemberg and Count Ostermann, sought in vain to stop his progress:
though roughly handled on the 28th by the French, the Muscovites
disengaged themselves, fell back ever fighting to the Nollendorf pass,
and took up a strong position behind the village of Kulm. There they
received timely support from the forces of the Czar and Frederick
William, who, after crossing by the Zinnwald pass, heard the firing on
the east and divined the gravity of the crisis. Unless they kept
Vandamme at bay, the Grand Army could with difficulty struggle through
into Bohemia. But now, with the supports hastily sent him, Ostermann
finally beat back Vandamme's utmost efforts. The defenders little knew
what favours Fortune had in store.

A Prussian corps under Kleist was slowly plodding up the middle of the
three defiles, when, at noonday of the 29th, an order came from the
King to hurry over the ridge and turn east to the support of
Ostermann. This was impossible: the defile was choked with wagons and
artillery: but one of Kleist's staff-officers proposed the daring plan
of plunging at once into cross tracks and cutting into Vandamme's
rear. This novel and romantic design was carried out. While, then, the
French general was showering his blows against the allies below Kulm,
the Prussians swarmed down from the heights of Nollendorf on his rear.
Even so, the French struggled stoutly for liberty. Their leader,
scorning death or surrender, flung himself with his braves on the
Russians in front, but was borne down and caught, fighting to the
last. Several squadrons rushed up the steeps against the Prussians and
in part hewed their way through. Four thousand footmen held their own
on a natural stronghold until their bullets failed, and the survivors
surrendered. Many more plunged into the woods and met various fates,
some escaping through to their comrades, others falling before
Kleist's rearguard. Such was the disaster of Kulm. Apart from the
unbending heroism shown by the conquered, it may be called the Caudine
Forks of modern war. A force of close on 40,000 men was nearly
destroyed: it lost all its cannon and survived only in bands of
exhausted stragglers.[361]

Who is to be blamed for this disaster? Obviously, it could not have
occurred had Vandamme kept in touch with the nearest French divisions:
otherwise, these could have closed in on Kleist's rear and captured
him. Napoleon clearly intended to support Vandamme by the corps of St.
Cyr, who, early on the 28th, was charged to co-operate with that
general, while Mortier covered Pirna. But on that same morning the
Emperor rode to Pirna, found that St. Cyr, Marmont, and Murat were
sweeping in crowds of prisoners, and directed Berthier to order
Vandamme to "penetrate into Bohemia and overwhelm the Prince of
Würtemberg."[362] Then, without waiting to organize the pursuit, he
forthwith returned to Dresden, either because, as some say, the rains
of the previous days had struck a chill to his system, or as Marmont,
with more reason, asserts, because of his concern at the news of
Macdonald's disaster on the Katzbach. Certain it is that he recalled
his Old Guard to Dresden, busied himself with plans for a march on
Berlin, and at 5.30 next morning directed Berthier to order St. Cyr to
"pursue the foe to Maxen and in all directions that he has taken."
This order led St. Cyr westwards, in pursuit of Barclay's Russians,
who had diverged sharply in that direction in order to escape
Vandamme.

The eastern road to Teplitz was thus left comparatively clear, while
the middle road was thronged with pursuers and pursued.[363] No
directions were given by Napoleon to warn Vandamme of the gap thus
left in his rear: neither was Mortier at Pirna told to press on and
keep in touch with Vandamme now that St. Cyr was some eight miles away
to the west. Doubtless St. Cyr and Mortier ought to have concerted
measures for keeping in touch with Vandamme, and they deserve censure
for their lack of foresight; but it was not usual, even for the
Marshals, to take the initiative when the Emperor was near at hand. To
sum up: the causes of Vandamme's disaster were, firstly, his rapid
rush into Bohemia in quest of the Marshal's baton which was to be his
guerdon of victory: secondly, the divergence of St. Cyr westward in
pursuance of Napoleon's order of the 29th to pursue the enemy towards
Maxen: thirdly, the neglect of St. Cyr and Mortier to concert measures
for the support of Vandamme along the Nollendorf road: but, above all,
the return of Napoleon to Dresden, and his neglect to secure a timely
co-operation of his forces along the eastern line of pursuit.[364]

The disaster at Kulm ruined Napoleon's campaign. While Vandamme was
making his last stand, his master at Dresden was drawing up a long
Note as to the respective advantages of a march on Berlin or on
Prague. He decided on the former course, which would crush the
national movement in Prussia, and bring him into touch with Davoust
and the French garrisons at Küstrin and Stettin. "Then, if Austria
begins her follies again, I shall be at Dresden with a united army."

He looked on Austria as cowed by the blows dealt her south of Dresden,
which would probably bring her to sue for peace, and he hoped that one
more great battle would end the war. The mishaps to Macdonald and
Vandamme dispelled these dreams. Still, with indomitable energy, he
charged Ney to take command of Oudinot's army (a post of which this
unfortunate leader begged to be relieved) and to strike at Berlin. He
ordered Friant with a column of the Old Guard to march to Bautzen and
drive in Macdonald's stragglers with the butt ends of muskets.[365]
Then, hearing how pressing was the danger of this Marshal, he himself
set out secretly with the cavalry of the Guard in hope of crushing
Blücher. But again that leader retreated (September 4th and 5th), and
once more the allied Grand Army thrust its columns through the Erz and
threatened Dresden. Hurrying back in the worst of humours to defend
that city, Napoleon heard bad news from the north. On September 6th
Ney had been badly beaten at Dennewitz. In truth, that brave fighter
was no tactician: his dispositions were worse than those of Oudinot,
and the obstinate bravery of the Prussians, led by Bülow and
Tauenzien, wrested a victory from superior numbers. Night alone saved
Ney's army from complete dissolution: as it was, he lost some 9,000
killed and wounded, 15,000 prisoners along with eighty cannon, and
frankly summed up the situation thus to his master: "I have been
totally beaten, and still do not know whether my army has
reassembled."[366] Ultimately his army assembled and fell back behind
the Elbe at Torgau.

Thus, in a fortnight (August 23rd-September 6th), Napoleon had gained
a great success at Dresden, while, on the circumference of operations,
his lieutenants had lost five battles--Grossbeeren, Hagelberg,
Katzbach, Kulm, and Dennewitz. The allies could therefore contract
that circumference, come into closer touch, and threaten his central
intrenched camps at Pirna and Dresden. Yet still, in pursuance of a
preconcerted plan, they drew back where he advanced in person. Thus,
when he sought to drive back Schwarzenberg's columns into Bohemia,
that leader warily retired to the now impregnable passes; and the
Emperor fell back on Dresden, wearied and perplexed. As he said to
Marmont: "The chess-board is very confused: it is only I who can know
where I am." Yet once more he plunged into the Erzgebirge, engaged in
a fruitless skirmish in the defile above Kulm, and again had to lead
his troops back to Pirna and Dresden. A third move against Blücher led
to the same wearisome result.

The allies, having worn down the foe, planned a daring move. Blücher
persuaded the allied sovereigns to strike from Bohemia at Leipzig,
thus turning the flank of the defensive works that the French had
thrown up south of Dresden, and cutting their communications with
France. He himself would march north-west, join the northern army, and
thereafter meet them at Leipzig. This rendezvous he kept, as later he
staunchly kept troth with Wellington at Waterloo; and we may detect
here, as in 1815, the strategic genius of Gneisenau as the prime
motive force.

Leaving a small force to screen his former positions at Bautzen, the
veteran, with 65,000 men, stealthily set out on his flank march
towards Wittenberg, threw two pontoon bridges over the Elbe at
Wartenburg, about ten miles above that fortress, drove away Bertrand's
battalions who hindered the crossing, and threw up earthworks to
protect the bridges (October 3rd). This done, he began to feel about
for Bernadotte, and came into touch with him south of Dessau. By this
daring march he placed two armies, amounting to 160,000 men, on the
north of Napoleon's lines; and his personal influence checked, even if
it did not wholly stop, the diplomatic loiterings of the Swedish Crown
Prince.[368] Bernadotte's hesitations were finally overcome by the
news that Blücher was marching south towards Leipzig. Finally he gave
orders to follow him; but we may judge how easy would have been the
task of overthrowing Bernadotte's discordant array if Napoleon could
have carried out his project of September 30th.

As it was, the disaster of Kulm kept the Emperor tethered for some
days within a few leagues of Dresden, while Bülow and Blücher saved
the campaign for the allies in the north, thereby exciting a patriotic
ferment which drove Jerome Bonaparte from Cassel and kept Davoust to
the defensive around Hamburg. There the skilful moves of Walmoden with
a force of Russians, British, Swedes, and North Germans kept in check
the ablest of the French Marshals, and prevented his junction with the
Emperor, for which the latter never ceased to struggle.

Meanwhile the Grand Army of the allies, strengthened by the approach
from Poland of 50,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve, was creeping
through the western passes of the Erz into the plains south of
Leipzig. This move was not unexpected by Napoleon. The importance of
that city was obvious. Situated in the midst of the fertile Saxon
plain, the centre of a great system ofroads, its position and its
wealth alike marked it out as the place likely to be seized by a
daring foe who should seek to cut Napoleon off from France.

As fortune turned against him, he became ever more nervous about
Leipzig. Yet, for the present, the northward march of Blücher rivetted
his attention. It puzzled him. Even as late as October 2nd he had not
fathomed Blücher's real aim[369]. But four days later he heard that
the Prussian leader had crossed the Elbe. At once he hurried
north-west with the Guard to crush him, and to resume the favourite
project of threatening Berllin and join hands with Davoust. Charging
St-Cyr with the defence of Dresden, and Murat with the defence of
Leipzig, he took his stand at Düben, a small town on the Mulde, nearly
midway between Leipzig and Wittenberg. Thence he reinforced Ney's
army, and ordered that Marshal northwards to fall on the rear of
Bernadotte and Blücher; while he himself waited in a moated castle at
Düben to learn the issue of events.

The saxon Colonel, von Odeleben, has left us a vivid picture of the
great man's restlessness during those four days. Surrounded by maps
and despatches, and waited on by watchful geographer and apprehensive
secretary, he spent much of the time scrawling large letters on a
sheet of paper, uneasily listening for the tramp of a courier. In
truth, few days of his life were more critical that those spent amidst
the rains, swamps, and fogs of Düben. Could he have caught Bernadotte
and Blücher far apart, he might have overwhelmed them singly, and then
have carried the war into the heart of Prussia. But he knows that
Dresden and Leipzig are far from safe. The news from that side begins
to alarm him: and though, on the north, Ney, Bertrand, and Reynier cut
up the rearguard of the allies, he learns with some disquiet that
Blücher is withdrawing westwards behind the River Saale, a move which
betokens a wish to come into touch with Schwarzenberg near Leipzig.

Yet this disconcerting thought spurs him on to one of his most daring
designs. "As a means of upsetting all their plans, I will march to the
Elbe. There I have the advantage, since I have Hamburg, Magdeburg,
Wittenberg, Torgau, and Dresden."[370] What faith he had in the
defensive capacities of a great river line dotted with fortresses! His
lieutenants did not share it. Caulaincourt tells us that his plan of
dashing at Berlin roused general consternation at headquarters, and
that the staff came in a body to beg him to give it up, and march back
to protect Leipzig. Reluctantly he abandons it, and then only to
change it for one equally venturesome. He will crush Bernadotte and
Blücher, or throw them beyond the Elbe, and then, himself crossing the
Elbe, ascend its right bank, recross it at Torgau, and strike at
Schwarzenberg's rear near Leipzig.

The plan promised well, provided that his men were walking machines,
and that Schwarzenberg did nothing in the interval. But gradually the
truth dawns on him that, while he sits weaving plans and dictating
despatches--he sent off six in the small hours of October
12th--Blücher and Schwarzenberg are drawing near to Leipzig. On that
day he prepared to fall back on that city, a resolve strengthened on
the morrow by the capture of one of the enemy's envoys, who reported
that they had great hopes of detaching Bavaria from the French cause.

The news was correct. Five days earlier, the King of Bavaria had come
to terms with Austria, offering to place 36,000 troops at her
disposal, while she, in return, guaranteed his complete sovereignty
and a full territorial indemnity for any districts that he might be
called on to restore to the Hapsburgs.[371] Napoleon knew not as yet
the full import of the news, and it is quite incorrect to allege, as
some heedless admirers have done, that this was the only thing that
stayed his conquering march northwards.[372] His retreat to Leipzig
was arranged before he heard the first rumour as to Bavaria's
defection. But the tidings saddened his men on their miry march
southwards; and, strange to say, the Emperor published it to all his
troops at Leipzig on the 15th, giving it as the cause why they were
about to fall back on the Rhine.

There was much to depress the Emperor when, on the 14th, he drew near
to Leipzig. With him came the King and Queen of Saxony, who during the
last days had resignedly moved along in the tail of this comet, which
had blasted their once smiling realm. Outside the city they parted,
the royal pair seeking shelter under its roofs, while the Emperor
pressed on to Murat's headquarters near Wachau. There, too the news
was doubtful. The King of Naples had not, on that day, shown his old
prowess. Though he disposed of larger masses of horsemen than those
which the allies sent out to reconnoitre, he chose his ground of
attack badly, and led his brigades in so loose an array that, after
long swayings to and fro, the fight closed with advantage to the
allies.[373] It was not without reason that Napoleon on that night
received his Marshals rather coolly at his modest quarters in the
village of Reudnitz. Leaning against the stove, he ran over several
names of those who were now slack in their duty; and when Augereau was
announced, he remarked that he was not the Augereau of Castiglione.
"Ah! give me back the old soldiers of Italy, and I will show you that
I am," retorted the testy veteran.

As a matter of fact, Napoleon was not the old Napoleon, not even the
Napoleon of Dresden. There he had overwhelmed the foe by a rapid
concentration. Now nothing decisive was done on the 15th, and time was
thereby given the allies to mature their plans. Early on that day
Blücher heard that on the morrow Schwarzenberg would attack Leipzig
from the south-east, but would send a corps westwards to threaten it
on the side of Lindenau. The Prussian leader therefore hurried on from
the banks of the Saale, and at night the glare of his watch-fires
warned Marmont that Leipzig would be assailed also from the
north-west. Yet, despite the warnings which Napoleon received from his
Marshal, he refused to believe that the north side was seriously
threatened; and, as late as the dawn of the 16th, he bade his troops
there to be ready to march through Leipzig and throw themselves on the
masses of Schwarzenberg.[374] Had Napoleon given those orders on the
15th, all might have gone well; for all his available forces, except
Ney's and Reynier's corps, were near at hand, making a total of nearly
150,000 men, while Schwarzenberg had as yet not many more. But those
orders on the 16th were not only belated: they contributed to the
defeat on the north side.

The Emperor's thoughts were concentrated on the south. There his lines
stretched in convex front along undulating ground near Wachau and
Liebertwolkwitz, about a league to the south and south-east of the
town. His right was protected by the marshy ground of the small river
Pleisse; his centre stretched across the roads leading towards
Dresden, while his left rested on a small stream, the Parthe, which
curves round towards the north-west and forms a natural defence to the
town on the north. Yet to cautious minds his position seemed unsafe;
he had in his rear a town whose old walls were of no military value, a
town on which several roads converged from the north, east, and south,
but from which, in case of defeat, he could retire westward only by
one road, that leading over the now flooded streams of the Pleisse and
the Elster. But the great captain himself thought only of victory. He
had charged Macdonald and Ney to march from Taucha to his support:
Marmont was to do the same; and, with these concentrated forces acting
against the far more extended array of Schwarzenberg, he counted on
overthrowing him on the morrow, and then crushing the disunited forces
of Blücher and Bernadotte.[375]

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LEIPZIG]

The Emperor and Murat were riding along the ridge near
Liebertwolkwitz, when, at nine o'clock, three shots fired in quick
succession from the allies on the opposite heights, opened the series
of battles fitly termed the Battle of the Nations. For six hours a
furious cannonade shook the earth, and the conflict surged to and fro
with little decisive result; but when Macdonald's corps struck in from
the north-east, the allies began to give ground. Thereupon Napoleon
launched two cavalry corps, those of Latour-Maubourg and Pajol,
against the allied centre.

Then was seen one of the most superb sights of war. Rising quickly
from behind the ridge, 12,000 horsemen rode in two vast masses against
a weak point in the opposing lines. They were led by the King of
Naples with all his wonted dash. Panting up the muddy slopes opposite,
they sabred the gunners, enveloped the Russian squares, and the three
allied sovereigns themselves had to beat a hasty retreat to avoid
capture. But the horses were soon spent by the furious pace at which
Murat careered along; and a timely charge by Pahlen's Cossacks and the
Silesian cuirassiers, brought up from the allied reserves beyond the
Pleisse, drove the French brigades back in great disorder, with the
loss of their able corps leaders. The allies by a final effort
regained all the lost ground, and the day here ended in a drawn fight,
with the loss of about 20,000 men to either side.

Meanwhile, on the west side of Leipzig, Bertrand had beaten off the
attack of Giulay's Austrian corps on the village of Lindenau. But,
further north, Marmont sustained a serious reverse. In obedience to
Napoleon's order, he was falling back towards Leipzig, when he was
sharply attacked by Yorck's corps at Möckern. Between that village and
Eutritzsch further east the French Marshal offered a most obstinate
resistance. Blücher, hoping to capture his whole corps, begged Sir
Charles Stewart to ride back to Bernadotte and request his succour.
The British envoy found the Swedish Prince at Halle and conjured him
to make every exertion not to be the only leader left out of the
battle.[376] It was in vain: his army was too far away; and only after
the village of Möckern had been repeatedly taken and re-taken, was
Marmont finally driven out by Yorck's Prussians.[377]

In truth, Marmont lacked the support of Ney's corps, which Berthier
had led him to expect if he were attacked in force. But the orders
were vague or contradictory. Ney had been charged to follow Macdonald
and impart irresistible momentum to the onset which was to have
crushed Schwarzenberg's right wing. He therefore only detached one
weak division to cover Marmont's right flank, and with the other
divisions marched away south, when an urgent message from Möckern
recalled him to that side of Leipzig, with the result that his 15,000
men spent the whole day in useless marches and counter-marches.[378]
The mishap was most serious. Had he strengthened Macdonald's
outflanking move, the right wing of the allied Grand Army might have
been shattered. Had he reinforced Marmont effectively, the position on
the north might have been held. As it was, the French fell back from
Möckern in confusion, losing 53 cannon; but they had inflicted on
Yorck's corps a loss of 8,000 men out of 21,000. Relatively to the
forces engaged, Albuera and Möckern are the bloodiest battles of the
Napoleonic wars.

On the whole, Napoleon had dealt the allies heavier losses than he had
sustained. But they could replace them. On the morrow Bennigsen was
near at hand on the east with 41,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve;
Colloredo's Austrian corps had also come up; and, in the north,
Bernadotte's Army of the North, 60,000 strong, was known to be
marching from Halle to reinforce Blücher. Napoleon, however, could
only count on Reynier's corps of 15,000 men, mostly Saxons, who
marched in from Düben. St. Cyr's corps of 27,000 men was too far away,
at Dresden; and Napoleon must have bitterly rued his rashness in
leaving that Marshal isolated on the south-east, while Davoust was
also cut off at Hamburg. He now had scarcely 150,000 effectives left
after the slaughter of the 16th; and of these, the German divisions
were murmuring at the endless marches and privations. Everything
helped to depress men's minds. On that Sabbath morning all was sombre
desolation around Leipzig, while within that city naught was heard but
the groans of the wounded and the lamentations of the citizens. Still
Napoleon's spirit was unquenched. Amidst the steady rain he paced
restlessly with Murat along the dykes of the Pleisse. The King assured
him that the enemy had suffered enormous losses. Then, the dreary walk
ended, the Emperor shut himself in his tent. His resolve was taken. He
would try fortune once more.[379]

Among the prisoners was the Austrian General Merveldt, over whom
Napoleon had gained his first diplomatic triumph, that at Leoben. He
it was, too, who had brought the first offers of an armistice after
Austerlitz. These recollections touched the superstitious chords in
the great Corsican's being; for in times of stress the strongest
nature harks back to early instincts. This harbinger of good fortune
the Emperor now summoned and talked long and earnestly with him.[380]
First, he complimented him on his efforts of the previous day to turn
the French left at Dölitz; next, he offered to free him on parole in
order to return to the allied headquarters with proposals for an
armistice. Then, after giving out that he had more than 200,000 men
round Leipzig, he turned to the European situation. Why had Austria
deserted him? At Prague she might have dictated terms to Europe. But
the English did not want peace. To this Merveldt answered that they
needed it sorely, but it must be not a truce, but a peace founded on
the equilibrium of Europe.--"Well," replied Napoleon, "let them give
me back my isles and I will give them back Hanover; I will also
re-establish the Hanse Towns and the annexed departments [of North
Germany].... But how treat with England, who wishes to bind me not to
build more than thirty ships of the line in my ports?"[381]

As for the Confederation of the Rhine, those States might secede that
chose to do so: but never would he cease to protect those that wanted
his protection. As to giving Holland its independence, he saw a great
difficulty: that land would then fall under the control of England.
Italy ought to be under one sovereign; that would suit the European
system. As he had abandoned Spain, that question was thereby decided.
Why then should not peace be the result of an armistice?--The allied
sovereigns thought differently, and at once waved aside the proposal.
No answer was sent.

In fact, they had Napoleon in their power, as he surmised. Late on
that Sunday, he withdrew his drenched and half-starved troops nearer
to Leipzig; for Blücher had gained ground on the north and threatened
the French line of retreat. Why the Emperor did not retreat during the
night must remain a mystery. All the peoples of Europe were now
closing in on him. On the north were Prussians, Russians, Swedes, and
a few British troops. To the south-east were the dense masses of the
allied Grand Army drawn from all the lands between the Alps and the
Urals; and among Bennigsen's array on the east of Leipzig were to be
seen the Bashkirs of Siberia, whose bows and arrows gained them from
the French soldiery the sobriquet of _les Amours_.

To this ring of 300,000 fighters Napoleon could oppose scarcely half
as many. Yet the French fought on, if not for victory, yet for honour;
and, under the lead of Prince Poniatowski, whose valour on the 16th
had gained him the coveted rank of a Marshal of France, the Poles once
more clutched desperately at the wraith of their national
independence. Napoleon took his stand with his staff on a hill behind
Probstheyde near a half-ruined windmill, fit emblem of his fortunes;
while, further south, the three allied monarchs watched from a higher
eminence the vast horse-shoe of smoke slowly draw in towards the city.
In truth, this immense conflict baffles all description. On the
north-east, the Crown Prince of Sweden gradually drove his columns
across the Parthe, while Blücher hammered at the suburbs.

Near the village of Paunsdorf, the allies found a weak place in the
defence, where Reynier's Saxons showed signs of disaffection. Some few
went over to the Russians in the forenoon, and about 3 p.m. others
marched over with loud hurrahs. They did not exceed 3,000 men, with 19
cannon, but these pieces were at once effectively used against the
French. Napoleon hurried towards the spot with part of his Guards, who
restored the fight on that side. But it was only for a time. The
defence was everywhere overmatched.

Even the inspiration of his presence and the desperate efforts of
Murat, Poniatowski, Victor, Macdonald, and thousands of nameless
heroes, barely held off the masses of the allied Grand Army. On the
north and north-east, Marmont and Ney were equally overborne.[382]
Worst of all, the supply of cannon balls was running low. With
pardonable exaggeration the Emperor afterwards wrote to Clarke: "If I
had then had 30,000 rounds, I should to-day be the master of the
world."

At nightfall, the chief returned weary and depressed to the windmill,
and instructed Berthier to order the retreat. Then, beside a
watch-fire, he sank down on a bench into a deep slumber, while his
generals looked on in mournful silence. All around them there surged
in the darkness the last cries of battle, the groans of the wounded,
and the dull rumble of a retreating host. After a quarter of an hour
he awoke with a start and threw an astonished look on his staff; then,
recollecting himself, he bade an officer repair to the King of Saxony
and tell him the state of affairs.

Early next morning, he withdrew into Leipzig, and, after paying a
brief visit to the King, rode away towards the western gate. It was
none too soon. The conflux of his still mighty forces streaming in by
three high roads, produced in all the streets of the town a crush
which thickened every hour. The Prussians and Swedes were breaking
into the northern suburbs, while the white-coats drove in the
defenders on the south. Slowly and painfully the throng of fugitives
struggled through the town towards the western gate. On that side the
confusion became ever worse, as the shots of the allies began to whiz
across the arches and causeway that led over the Pleisse and the
Elster, while the hurrahs of the Russians drew near on the north.
Ammunition wagons, gendarmes, women, grenadiers and artillery, cavalry
and cattle, the wounded, the dying, Marshals and sutlers, all were
wedged into an indistinguishable throng that fought for a foothold on
that narrow road of safety; and high above the din came the clash of
merry bells from the liberated suburbs, bells that three days before
had rung forced peals of triumph at Napoleon's orders, but now bade
farewell for ever to French domination. To increase the rout, a
temporary bridge thrown over the Elster broke down under the crush;
and the rush for the roadway became more furious. In despair of
reaching it, hundreds threw themselves into the flooded stream, but
few reached the further shore: among the drowned was that flower of
Polish chivalry, Prince Poniatowski.

But this mishap was soon to be outdone. A corporal of engineers, in
the absence of his chief, had received orders to blow up the bridge
outside the western gate, as soon as the pursuers were at hand; but,
alarmed by the volleys of Sacken's Russians, whom Blücher had sent to
work round by the river courses north-west of the town, the bewildered
subaltern fired the mine while the rearguard and a great crowd of
stragglers were still on the eastern side.[383] This was the climax of
this day of disaster, which left in the hands of the allies as many as
thirty generals, including Lauriston and Reynier, and 33,000 of the
rank and file, along with 260 cannon and 870 ammunition wagons. From
the village of Lindenau Napoleon gazed back at times over the awesome
scene, but in general he busied himself with reducing to order the
masses that had struggled across. The Old Guard survived, staunch as
ever, and had saved its 120 cannon, but the Young Guard was reduced to
a mere wreck. Amidst all the horrors of that day, the Emperor
maintained a stolid composure, but observers saw that he was bathed in
sweat. Towards evening, he turned and rode away westwards; and from
the weary famished files, many a fierce glance and muttered curse shot
forth as he passed by. Men remembered that it was exactly a year since
the Grand Army broke up from Moscow.

Yet, despite the ravages of typhus, the falling away of the German
States and the assaults of the allied horse, the retreating host
struggled stoutly on towards the Rhine. At Hanau it swept aside an
army of Bavarians and Austrians that sought to bar the road to France;
and, early in November, 40,000 armed men, with a larger number of
unarmed stragglers, filed across the bridge at Mainz. Napoleon had not
only lost Germany; he left behind in its fortresses as many as 190,000
troops, of whom nearly all were French; and of the 1,300 cannon with
which he began the second part of the campaign, scarce 200 were now at
hand for the defence of his Empire.

The causes of this immense disaster are not far to seek. They were
both political and military. In staking all on the possession of the
line of the Elbe, Napoleon was engulfing himself in a hostile land. At
the first signs of his overthrow, the national spirit of Germany was
certain to inflame the Franconians and Westphalians in his rear, and
imperil his communications. In regard to strategy, he committed the
same blunder as that perpetrated by Mack in 1805. He trusted to a
river line that could easily be turned by his foes. As soon as Austria
declared against him, his position on the Elbe was fully as perilous
as Mack's lines of the Iller at Ulm.

And yet, in spite of the obvious danger from the great mountain
bastion of Bohemia that stretched far away in his rear, the Emperor
kept his troops spread out from Königstein to Hamburg, and ventured on
long and wearying marches into Silesia, and north to Düben, which left
his positions in Saxony almost at the mercy of the allied Grand
Army.[384] By emerging from the mighty barrier of the Erzgebirge, that
army compelled him three times to give up his offensive moves and
hastily to fall back into the heart of Saxony.

The plain truth is that he was out-generalled by the allies. The
assertion may seem to savour of profanity. Yet, if words have any
meaning, the phrase is literally correct. His aim was primarily to
maintain himself on the line of the Elbe, but also, though in the
second place, to keep up his communication with France. Their aim was
to leave him the Elbe line, but to cut him off from France. Even at
the outset they planned to strike at Leipzig: their attack on Dresden
was an afterthought, timidly and slowly carried out. As long, however,
as their Grand Army clung to the Erz mountains, they paralyzed his
movements to the east and north, which merely played into their hands.

As regards the execution of the allied plans, the honours must
unquestionably rest with Blücher and Gneisenau. Their tactful retreats
before Napoleon in Silesia, their crushing blow at Macdonald, above
all, their daring flank march to Wartenburg and thence to Halle, are
exploits of a very high order; and doubtless it was the emergence of
this unsuspected volcanic force from the unbroken flats of continental
mediocrity that nonplussed Napoleon and led to the results described
above. Truly heroic was Blücher's determination to push on to Leipzig,
even when the enemy was seizing the Elbe bridges in his rear. The
veteran saw clearly that a junction with Schwarzenberg near Leipzig
was the all-important step, and that it must bring back the French to
that point. His judgment was as sound as his strokes were trenchant;
and, owing to the illusions which Napoleon still cherished as to the
saving strength of the Elbe line, the French arrived on that mighty
battlefield half-famished and wearied by fruitless marches and
countermarches. Of all Napoleon's campaigns, that of the second part
of 1813 must rank as by far the weakest in conception, the most
fertile in blunders, and the most disastrous in its results for
France.


NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--In order not to overcrowd these chapters
with diplomatic details, I have made only the briefest reference to
the Treaties signed at Teplitz on Sept. 9th, 1813, with Russia and
Prussia, which cemented the fourth great Coalition; but it will be
well to describe them here.

A way having been paved for a closer union by the Treaty of Kalisch
(see p. 276) and by that of Reichenbach (see p. 317), it was now
agreed (1) that Austria and Prussia should be restored as nearly as
possible to the position which they held in 1805; (2) that the
Confederation of the Rhine should be dissolved; (3) and that "full and
unconditional independence" should be accorded to the princes of the
other German States. This last clause was firmly but vainly opposed by
Stein and the German Unionist party. Austria's help was so sorely
needed that she could dictate her terms, and she began to scheme for
the creation of a sort of _Fürstenbund_, or League of Princes, under
her hegemony. The result was seen in her Treaty of October 7th, 1813,
with Bavaria, which detached that State from the French alliance and
assured the success of Metternich's plans for Germany (see pp.
354-355). The smaller States soon followed the lead given by Bavaria;
and the reconstruction of Germany on the Austrian plan was further
assured by the Treaty of Chaumont (see pp. 402-403). Thus the dire
need of Austrian help felt by Russia and Prussia throughout the
campaigns of 1813-1814 had no small share in moulding the future of
Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVI

FROM THE RHINE TO THE SEINE


"The Emperor Napoleon must become King of France. Up to now all his
work has been done for the Empire. He lost the Empire when he lost his
army. When he no longer makes war for the army, he will make peace for
the French people, and then he will become King of France."--Such were
the words of the most sagacious of French statesmen to Schwarzenberg.
They were spoken on April 15th, 1813, when it still seemed likely that
Napoleon would meet halfway the wishes of Austria. Such, at least, was
Talleyrand's ardent hope. He saw the innate absurdity of attempting to
browbeat Austria, and strangle the infant Hercules of German
nationality, after the Grand Army had been lost in Russia.

If this was reasonable in the spring of 1813, it was an imperative
necessity at the close of the year. Napoleon had in the meantime lost
400,000 men: and he could not now say, as he did to Metternich of his
losses in Russia, that "nearly half were Germans." The men who had
fallen in Saxony, or who bravely held out in the Polish, German, and
Spanish fortresses, were nearly all French. They were, what the
_triarii_ were to the Roman legion, the reserves of the fighting
manhood of France. That unhappy land was growing restless under its
disasters. In Spain, Wellington had blockaded Pamplona, stormed St.
Sebastian, thrown Soult back on the Pyrenees in a series of desperate
conflicts, and planted the British flag on the soil of France, eleven
days before Napoleon was overthrown at Leipzig. Then, pressing
northwards, in compliance with the urgent appeals of the allied
sovereigns, our great commander assailed the lines south of the
Nivelle, on which the French had been working for three months, drove
the enemy out of them and back over the river, with a loss of 4,200
men and 51 guns (November 10th).[385]

The same tale was told in the north. The allies were welcomed by the
secondary German princes, who, in return for compacts guaranteeing
their sovereignty, promised to raise contingents that amounted in all
to upwards of a quarter of a million of men. Bernadotte marched
against the Danes and cut off Davoust in Hamburg, where that Marshal
bravely held out to the end of the war. Elsewhere in the north
Napoleon's domination quickly mouldered away. Bülow, aided by a small
British force, invaded Holland early in November; and, with the old
cry of _Orange boven_, the Dutch tore down the French tricolour and
welcomed back the Prince of Orange. In Italy, Eugène remained faithful
to his step-father and repulsed all the overtures of the allies: but
Murat, whose allegiance had already been shaken by the secret offers
of the allies, now began to show signs of going over to them, as he
did at the dawn of the New Year.[386]

Meanwhile Napoleon had arrived at Paris (November 9th). He found his
capital sunk in depression, and indignant at the author of its
miseries. Peace was the dearest wish of all. Marie Louise confessed it
by her tears, Cambacérès by his tactful reserve, and the people by
their cries, while the sullen demeanour or bitter words of the
Marshals showed that their patience was exhausted. Evidently a
scapegoat was needed: it was found in the person of Maret, Duc de
Bassano, whose devotion to Napoleon had reduced the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs to a highly paid clerkship. For the crime of not
bending his master's inflexible will at Dresden, he was now cast as a
sop to the peace party; and his portfolio was intrusted to
Caulaincourt, Duc de Vicenza (November 20th). The change was salutary.
The new Minister, when ambassador at St. Petersburg, had been highly
esteemed by the Czar for his frank, chivalrous demeanour. Our
countrywoman, Lady Burghersh, afterwards testified to his personal
charm: "I never saw a countenance so expressive of kindness,
sweetness, and openness."[387] And these gifts were fortified by a
manly intelligence, a profound love of France, and by devotion to her
highest interests. The first of her interests was obviously peace; and
there now seemed some chance of his conferring this boon on her and on
the world at large.

On November the 8th and 9th Metternich had two interviews at Frankfurt
with Baron St. Aignan, a brother-in-law of Caulaincourt, and formerly
the French envoy at Weimar. The Austrian Minister assured him of the
moderation of the allies, especially of England, and of their wish for
a lasting peace founded on the principle of the balance of power.
France must give up all control of Spain, Italy, and Germany, and
return to her natural frontiers, the Rhine, the Alps, and the
Pyrenees. Lord Aberdeen, our ambassador to Austria, and Count
Nesselrode, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, were present at
the second interview, and assented to this statement, the latter
pledging his word that it had the approval of Prussia. Aberdeen added
his assurance that England was prepared to relax her maritime code and
sacrifice many of her conquests in order to attain a durable peace. To
these Frankfurt overtures Napoleon charged Maret to answer in vaguely
favourable terms, and to suggest the meeting of a European Congress at
Mannheim. The effect of this Note (November 16th) was marred by the
strange statement--"a peace based on the independence of all nations,
both from the continental and the maritime point of view, has always
been the constant object of the desires and policy of the Emperor
[Napoleon]."[388]

Metternich in reply pointed out that the French Government had not
accepted the proposed terms as a basis for negotiations. The new
Foreign Minister, Caulaincourt, sent off (December 2nd) an acceptance
which was far more frank and satisfactory; but the day before he
penned it, the allies had virtually withdrawn their offer, as they had
told him they would do if it was not speedily accepted. They had all
along decided not to stay the military operations; and, as these were
still flowing strongly in their favour, they could not be expected to
keep open an offer which was exceedingly favourable to Napoleon even
at the time when it was made, that is, before the support of the
Dutch, of the Swiss, and of Murat was fully assured.

It may be well to pause for a moment to inquire what were the views of
the allied Governments, and of Napoleon himself, at this crisis when
Europe was seething in the political crucible. Had Metternich the full
assent of those Governments when he offered the French Emperor the
natural frontiers? Here we must separate the views of Lord Aberdeen
from those of the British Cabinet, as represented by its Foreign
Minister, Lord Castlereagh: and we must also distinguish between the
Emperor Alexander and his Minister, Nesselrode, a man of weak
character, in whom he had little confidence. Certainly the British
Cabinet was not disposed to leave Antwerp in Napoleon's hands.

    "This nation," wrote Castlereagh to Aberdeen on November 13th, "is
    likely to view with disfavour any peace which does not confine
    France within her ancient limits.... We are still ready to
    encounter, with our allies, the hazards of peace, if peace can be
    made on the basis proposed, satisfactorily executed [_sic_]; and
    we are not inclined to go out of our way to interfere in the
    internal government of France, however much we might desire to see
    it placed in more pacific hands. But I am satisfied we must not
    encourage our allies to patch up an imperfect arrangement. If they
    will do so, we must submit; but it should appear, in that case, to
    be their own act, and not ours.... I must particularly entreat you
    to keep your attention upon Antwerp. The destruction of that
    arsenal is essential to our safety. To leave it in the hands of
    France is little short of imposing upon Great Britain the charge
    of a perpetual war establishment."[389]

Thenceforth British policy inclined, though tentatively and with some
hesitations, to the view that it was needful in the interests of peace
to bring France back to the limits of 1791, that is, of withdrawing
from her, not only Holland, the Rhineland and Italy, but also Belgium,
Savoy, and Nice. The Prussian patriots were far more decided. They
were determined that France should not dominate the Rhineland and
overawe Germany from the fortresses of Mainz, Coblenz, and Wesel. On
this subject Arndt spoke forth with no uncertain sound in a
pamphlet--"The Rhine, Germany's river, not her boundary"--which proved
that the French claim to the Rhine frontier was consonant neither with
the teachings of history nor the distribution of the two peoples. The
pamphlet had an immense effect in stirring up Germans to attack the
cherished French doctrine of the natural frontiers, and it clinched
the claim which he had put forward in his "Fatherland" song of the
year before. It bade Germans strive for Trèves and Cologne, aye, even
for Strassburg and Metz. Hardenberg and Stein, differing on most
points, united in praising this work. Even before it appeared, the
former chafed at the thought of Napoleon holding the left bank of the
Rhine. On hearing of Metternich's Frankfurt offer to the French
Emperor, he wrote in his diary: "Propositions of peace without my
assent--Rhine, Alps, Pyrenees: a mad business."[390]

Frederick William's views were less pronounced: in fact, his proneness
to see a lion in every path earned for him the _sobriquet_ of
Cassandra in his Chancellor's diary. But in the main he was swayed by
the Czar; and that autocrat was now determined to dictate at Paris a
peace that would rid him of all prospect of his great rival's revenge.
Vanity and fear alike prescribed such a course of action. He longed to
lead his magnificent Guards to Paris, there to display his clemency in
contrast to the action of the French at Moscow; and this sentiment was
fed by fear of Napoleon. The latter motive was concealed, of course,
but Lord Aberdeen gauged its power during a private interview that he
had with Alexander at Freiburg (December 24th): "He talked with great
freedom: he is more decided than ever as to the necessity of
perseverance, and puts little trust in the fair promises of
Bonaparte.--'_So long as he lives there can be no security_'--he
repeated it two or three times."[391] We can therefore understand his
concern lest the Frankfurt terms should be accepted outright by
Napoleon. Metternich, however, assured him that the French Emperor
would not assent;[392] and, as in regard to the Prague Congress, he
was substantially correct.

Here again we touch on the disputed question whether Metternich played
a fair game against Napoleon, or whether he tempted him to play with
loaded dice while his throne was at stake. The latter supposition for
a long time held the field; but it is untenable. On several occasions
the Austrian statesman warned Napoleon, or his trusty advisers, that
the best course open to him was to sign peace at once. He did so at
Dresden, and he did so now. On November 10th he sent Caulaincourt a
letter, of which these are the most important sentences:

    " ... M. de St. Aignan will speak to you of my conversations [with
    him]. I expect nothing from them, but I shall have done my duty.
    France will never sign a more fortunate peace than that which the
    Powers will make to-day, and tomorrow if they have reverses. New
    successes may extend their views.... I do not doubt that the
    approach of the allied armies to the frontiers of France may
    facilitate the formation of great armaments by her Government. The
    questions will become problematical for the civilized world; but
    the Emperor Napoleon will not make peace. There is my profession
    of faith, and I shall never be happier than if I am wrong."

The letter rings true in every part. Metternich made no secret of
sending it, but allowed Lord Aberdeen to see it.[393] And by good
fortune it reached Caulaincourt about the time when he assumed the
portfolio of Foreign Affairs. Its substance must therefore have been
known to Napoleon; and the tone of the Frankfurt proposals ought to
have convinced him of the need of speedily making peace while Austria
held out the olive branch from across the Rhine. But Metternich's
gloomy forecast was only too true. During his sojourn at Paris he had
tested the rigidity of that cast-iron will.

In fact, no one who knew the Emperor's devotion to Italy could believe
that he would give up Piedmont and Liguria. His own despatches show
that he never contemplated such a surrender. On November 20th he gave
orders for the enrolling of 46,000 Frenchmen _of mature age_--"not
Italians or Belgians"--who were to reinforce Eugène and help him to
defend Italy; that, too, at a time when the defence of Champagne and
Languedoc was about to devolve on lads of eighteen.

He was equally determined not to give up Holland. On the possession of
this maritime and industrious community he had always laid great
stress. He once remarked to Roederer that the ruin of the French
Bourbons was due to three events--the Battle of Rossbach, the affair
of the diamond necklace, and the victory of Anglo-Prussian influence
over that of France in Dutch affairs (1787). He even appealed to
Nature to prove that that land must form part of the French Empire.
"Holland," said one of his Ministers in 1809, "is the alluvium of the
Rhine, Meuse, and Scheldt--in other words, one of the great arteries
of the Empire." Before the last battle at Leipzig he told Merveldt
that he could not grant Holland its independence, for it would fall
under the tutelage of England. And even while his Empire was crumbling
away after that disaster, he wrote to his mother: "Holland is a French
country, _and will remain so for ever_."[394]

Russia, Prussia, and Britain were equally determined that the Dutch
should be independent; and if Metternich wavered on the subject of
Dutch independence, his hesitation was at an end by the middle of
December, for a memorandum of the Russian diplomatist, Pozzo di Borgo,
states that Metternich then regarded the Rhine boundary as ending at
Düsseldorf: "after that town the river takes the name of Waal."[395]
Such juggling with geography was surely superfluous; for by that time
the Frankfurt terms had virtually lapsed, owing to Napoleon's belated
acceptance; and Metternich had joined the other allied Governments
that now demanded a more thorough solution of the boundary question.

In fact, the allies were now able to make political capital out of
their recent moderation.[396] On December 1st they issued an appeal to
the French nation to the following effect: "We do not make war on
France, but we are casting off the yoke which your Government imposed
on our countries. We hoped to have found peace before touching your
soil: we now go to find it there."

If the sovereigns hoped by means of this declaration to separate
France from Napoleon, they erred. To cross the Rhine was to attack,
not Napoleon, but the French Revolution. Belgium and the Rhine
boundary had been won by Dumouriez, Jourdain, Pichegru, and Moreau, at
a time when Bonaparte's name was unknown outside Corsica and Provence.
France had looked on wearily at Napoleon's wars in Germany, Spain, and
Russia: they concerned him, not her. But when the "sacred soil" was
threatened, citizens began to close their ranks: they ceased their
declamations against the crushing taxes and youth-slaying
conscription: they submitted to heavier taxes and levies of still
younger lads. In fact, by doffing the mask of Charlemagne, the Emperor
became once more the Bonaparte of the days of Marengo.

He counted on some such change in public opinion; and it enabled him
to defy with impunity the beginnings of a Parliamentary opposition.
The Senate had been puffily obsequious, as usual; but the Corps
Législatif had mistaken its functions. Summoned to vote new taxes, it
presumed to give advice. A commission of its members agreed to a
report on the existing situation, drawn up by Lainé, which gave the
Emperor great offence. Its crime lay in its outspoken requests that
peace should be concluded on the basis of the natural frontiers, that
the rigours of the conscription should be abated, and that the laws
which guaranteed the free exercise of political rights should be
maintained intact. The Emperor was deeply incensed, and, despite the
advice of his Ministers, determined to dissolve the Chamber forthwith
(December 31st). Not content with this exercise of arbitrary power, he
subjected its members to a barrack-like rebuke at the official
reception on New Year's Day.--He had convoked them to do good, and
they had done evil. Two battles lost in Champagne would not have been
so harmful as their last action. What was their mandate compared with
his? France had twice chosen _him_ by some millions of votes: while
_they_ were nominated only by a few hundreds apiece. They had flung
mud at him: but he was a man who might be slain, never dishonoured. He
would fight for the nation, hurl back the foe, and conclude an
honourable peace. Then, for their shame, he would print and circulate
their report.--Such was the gist of this diatribe, which he shot forth
in strident tones and with flashing eyes. He had the copies of the
report destroyed, and dismissed the deputies to their homes throughout
France.

The country, in the main, took his side; and doubtless the national
instinct was sound; for the allies had crossed the Rhine, and France
once more was in danger. As in 1793, when the nation welcomed the
triumph of the dare-devil Jacobins over the respectable parliamentary
Girondins, as promising a vigorous rule and the expulsion of the
monarchical invaders, so now the soldiers and peasants, if not the
middle classes, rejoiced at the discomfiture of the talkers by the one
necessary man of action. The general feeling was pithily expressed by
an old peasant: "It's no longer a question of Bonaparte. Our soil is
invaded: let us go and fight."

This was the feeling which the Emperor ruthlessly exploited. He
decreed the enrolment of a great force of National Guards, exacted
further levies for the regular army, and ordered a _levée en masse_
for the eastern Departments. The difficulties in his way were
enormous. But he flung himself at the task with incomparable _verve_.
Soldiers were wanting: youths were dragged forth, even from the
royalist districts of the extreme north and west and south. Money was
wanting: it was extorted from all quarters, and Napoleon not only
lavished 55,000,000 francs from his own private hoard, but seized that
of his parsimonious mother.[397] Cannon, muskets, uniforms were
wanting: their manufacture was pushed on with feverish haste: Napoleon
ordered his War Office to "procure all the cloth in France, good and
bad," so as to have 200,000 uniforms ready by the end of February; and
he counted on having half a million of effectives in the field at the
close of spring.

Among these he reckoned--so, at least, he wrote to Melzi--"nearly
200,000" French soldiers from Arragon, Catalonia, and at Bayonne. Even
if we allow for his desire to encourage his officials in Italy, the
estimate is curious. Wellington at that time, it is true, had lessened
his numbers by sending back across the Pyrenees all his Spanish
troops, whose atrocities endangered that good understanding with the
French peasantry which our great leader, for political motives, was
determined to cultivate.[398] Yet, despite the shrinkage in numbers,
he drove the French from the banks of the River Nive, and inflicted on
them severe losses in desperate conflicts near Bayonne (December
9th-13th). In fact, the intrenched camp in front of that town was now
the sole barrier to Wellington's advance northwards, and it was with
difficulty that Soult clung to this position. The peasantry, too,
finding that they were far better treated by Wellington's troops than
by their own soldiers, began to favour the allied cause, with results
that will shortly appear. Yet these disquieting symptoms did not daunt
Napoleon; for he now based his hopes of resisting the British advance
on a compact which he had concluded with Ferdinand VII., the rightful
King of Spain.

As soon as he returned to St. Cloud after the Leipzig campaign he made
secret overtures to that unhappy exile;[399] and by the Treaty of
Valençay (December 11th, 1813) he agreed to recognize him as King of
the whole of Spain, provided that British and French troops evacuated
that land. His imagination ran riot in picturing the results of this
treaty. Ferdinand was to enter Spain; Suchet, then playing a losing
game in Catalonia, was quietly to withdraw his columns through the
Pyrenees, while Wellington would have his base of operations cut from
under him, and thenceforth be a negligeable quantity.[400] These
pleasing fancies all rested on the acceptance of the new treaty by the
Spanish Regency and Cortès. But, alas for Napoleon! they at once
rejected it, declaring null and void all acts of Ferdinand while he
was a prisoner, and forbidding all negotiations with France while
French troops remained in the Peninsula (January 8th).

Equally disappointing were affairs in Italy. On the 11th of January,
Murat made an alliance with Austria, and promised to aid her with a
corps of 30,000 Neapolitans, while she guaranteed him his throne and a
slice of the Roman territory. Napoleon directed Eugène, as soon as
this bad news was confirmed, to prepare to fall back on the Alps. But,
in order to clog Murat's movements, the Emperor resolved to make use
of the spiritual power, which for six years he had slighted. He gave
orders that the aged Pope should be released from his detention at
Fontainebleau, and hurried secretly to Rome. "Let him burst on that
place like a clap of thunder," he wrote to Savary (January 21st). But
this stagey device was not to succeed. Even now Napoleon insisted on
conditions with which Pius VII. could not conscientiously comply, and
he was still detained at Tarrascon when his captor was setting out for
Elba.

Three days after Murat's desertion, Denmark fell away from Napoleon.
Overborne by the forces of Bernadotte, the little kingdom made peace
with England and Sweden, agreeing to yield up Norway to the latter
Power in consideration of recovering an indemnity in Germany. To us
the Danes ceded Heligoland. Thus, within three months of the disaster
at Leipzig, all Napoleon's allies forsook him, and all but the Danes
were now about to fight against him--a striking proof of the
artificiality of his domination.

By this time it was clear that even France would soon be stricken to
the heart unless Napoleon speedily concentrated his forces. On the
north and east the allies were advancing with a speed that nonplussed
the Emperor. Accustomed to sluggish movements on their part, he had
not expected an invasion in force before the spring, and here it was
in the first days of January. Bülow and Graham had overrun Holland.
The allies, with the exception of the Czar, had no scruples about
infringing the neutrality of Switzerland, as Napoleon had consistently
done, and the constitution, which he had imposed upon that land eleven
years before, now straightway collapsed. Detaching a strong corps
southwards to hold the Simplon and Great St. Bernard Passes and
threaten Lyons, Schwarzenberg led the allied Grand Army into France by
way of Basel, Belfort, and Langres. The prompt seizure of the Plateau
of Langres was an important success. The allies thereby turned the
strong defensive lines of the Vosges Mountains, and of the Rivers
Moselle and Meuse, so that Blücher, with his "Army of Silesia," was
able rapidly to advance into Lorraine, and drive Victor from Nancy.
Toul speedily surrendered, and the sturdy veteran then turned to the
south-west, in order to come into touch with Schwarzenberg's columns.
Neither leader delayed before the eastern fortresses. The allies had
learnt from Napoleon to invest or observe them and press on, a course
which their vast superiority of force rendered free from danger.
Schwarzenberg, on the 25th, had 150,000 men between Langres, Chaumont,
and Bar-sur-Aube; while Blücher, with about half those numbers,
crossed the Marne at St. Dizier, and was drawing near to Brienne. In
front of them were the weak and disheartened corps of Marmont, Ney,
Victor, and Macdonald, mustering in all about 50,000 men. Desertions
to the allies were frequent, and Blücher, wishing to show that the war
was practically over, dismissed both deserters and prisoners to their
homes.[401]

But the war was far from over: it had not yet begun. Hitherto Napoleon
had hurried on the preparations from Paris, but the urgency of the
danger now beckoned him eastwards. As before, he left the Empress as
Regent of France, but appointed King Joseph as Lieutenant-General of
France. On Sunday, January 23rd, he held the last reception. It was in
the large hall of the Tuileries, where the Parisian rabble had forced
Louis XVI. to don the _bonnet rouge_. Another dynasty was now
tottering to its fall; but none could have read its doom in the faces
of the obsequious courtiers, or of the officers of the Parisian
National Guards, who offered their homage to the heir of the
Revolution.

He came forward with the Empress and the King of Rome, a flaxen-haired
child of three winters, clad in the uniform of the National Guard.
Taking the boy by the hand into the midst of the circle, he spoke
these touching words: "Gentlemen,--I am about to set out for the army.
I intrust to you what I hold dearest in the world--my wife and my son.
Let there be no political divisions." He then carried him amidst his
dignitaries and officers, while sobs and shouts bespoke the warmth of
the feelings kindled by this scene. And never, surely, since the young
Maria Theresa appealed in person to the Hungarian magnates to defend
her against rapacious neighbours, had any monarch spoken so straight
to the hearts of his lieges. The secret of his success is not far to
seek. He had not commanded as Emperor: he had appealed as a father to
fathers and mothers.

It is painful to have to add that many who there swore to defend him
were even then beginning to plot his overthrow. Most painful of all is
it to remember that when, before dawn of the 25th, Marie Louise bade
him farewell, it was her last farewell: for she, too, deserted him in
his misfortunes, refused to share his exile, and ultimately degraded
herself by her connection with Count Neipperg.

Heedless of all that the future might bring, and concentrating his
thoughts on the problems of the present, the great warrior journeyed
rapidly eastwards to Châlons-sur-Marne, and opened the most glorious
of his campaigns. And yet it began with disaster. At Brienne, among
the scenes of his school-days, he assailed Blücher in the hope of
preventing the junction of the Army of Silesia with that of
Schwarzenberg further south (January 29th). After sharp fighting, the
Prussians were driven from the castle and town. But the success was
illusory. Blücher withdrew towards Bar-sur-Aube, in order to gain
support from Schwarzenberg, and, three days later, turned the tables
on Napoleon while the latter was indulging in hopes that the allies
were about to treat seriously for peace.[402] Nevertheless, though
surprised by greatly superior numbers, the 40,000 French clung
obstinately to the village of La Rothière until their thin lines were
everywhere driven in or outflanked, with the loss of 73 cannon and
more than 3,000 prisoners. Each side lost about 5,000 killed and
wounded--a mere trifle to the allies, but a grave disaster to the
defenders.

The Emperor was much discouraged. He had put forth his full strength,
exposed his own person to the hottest fire, so as to encourage his
men, and yet failed to prevent the union of the allied armies, or to
hold the line of the River Aube. Early on the morrow he left the
castle of Brienne, and took the road for Troyes; while Marmont, with a
corps now reduced to less than 3,000 men, bravely defended the passage
of the Voire at Rosnay, and, after delaying the pursuit, took post at
Arcis-sur-Aube. The means of defence, both moral and material, seemed
wellnigh exhausted. When, on February 3rd, Napoleon entered Troyes,
scarcely a single _vivat_ was heard. Even the old troops were cast
down by defeat and hunger, while as many as 6,000 conscripts are said
to have deserted. The inhabitants refused to supply the necessaries of
life except upon requisition. "The army is perishing of famine,"
writes the Emperor at Troyes. Again at Nogent: "Twelve men have died
of hunger, though we have used fire and sword to get food on our way
here." And, now, into the space left undefended between the Marne and
the Aube, Blücher began to thrust his triumphant columns, with no
barrier to check him until he neared the environs of Paris. Once more
the Prussian and Russian officers looked on the war as over, and
invited one another to dinner at the Palais-Royal in a week's
time.[403]

But it was on this confidence of the old hussar-general that Napoleon
counted. He knew his proneness to daring movements, and the strong
bias of Schwarzenberg towards delay: he also divined that they would
now separate their forces, Blücher making straight for Paris, while
other columns would threaten the capital by way of Troyes and Sens.
That was why he fell back on Troyes, so as directly to oppose the
latter movement, "or so as to return and manoeuvre against Blücher and
stay his march."[404] Another motive was his expectation of finding at
Nogent the 15,000 veterans whom he had ordered Soult to send
northwards. And doubtless the final reason was his determination to
use the sheltering curve of the Seine, which between Troyes and Nogent
flows within twenty miles of the high-road that Blücher must use if he
struck at Paris. At many a crisis Napoleon had proved the efficacy of
a great river line. From Rivoli to Friedland his career abounds in
examples of riverine tactics. The war of 1813 was one prolonged
struggle for the line of the Elbe. He still continued the war because
he could not yet bring himself to sign away the Rhenish fortresses:
and he now hoped to regain that "natural boundary" by blows showered
on divided enemies from behind the arc of the Seine.

With wonderful prescience he had guessed at the general plan of the
allies. But he could scarcely have dared to hope that on that very day
(February 2nd) they were holding a council of war at Brienne, and
formally resolved that Blücher should march north-west on Paris with
about 50,000 men, while the allied Grand

Army of nearly three times those numbers was to diverge south-west
towards Bar-sur-Seine and Sens. So unequal a partition of forces
seemed to court disaster. It is true that the allies had no magazines
of supplies: they could not march in an undivided host through a
hostile land where the scanty defenders themselves were nearly
starving. If, however, they decided to move at all, it was needful to
allot the more dangerous task to a powerful force. Above all, it was
necessary to keep their main armies well in touch with one another and
with the foe. Yet these obvious precautions were not taken. In truth,
the separation of the allies was dictated more by political jealousy
than by military motives. To these political affairs we must now
allude; for they had no small effect in leading Napoleon on to an
illusory triumph and an irretrievable overthrow. We will show their
influence, first on the conduct of the allies, and then on the actions
of Napoleon.

The alarm of Austria at the growing power of Russia and Prussia was
becoming acute. She had drawn the sword only because Napoleon's
resentment was more to be feared than Alexander's ambition. But all
had changed since then. The warrior who, five months ago, still had
his sword at the throat of Germany, was now being pursued across the
dreary flats of Champagne. And his eastern rival, who then plaintively
sued for Austria's aid, now showed a desire to establish Russian
control over all the Polish lands, indemnifying Prussia for losses in
that quarter by the acquisition of Saxony. Both of these changes would
press heavily on Austria from the north; and she was determined to
prevent them as far as possible. Then there was the vexed question of
the reconstruction of Germany to which we shall recur later on.
Smaller matters, involving the relations of the allies to Bernadotte,
Denmark, and Switzerland further complicated the situation: but, above
all, there was the problem of the future limits and form of government
of France.

On that topic there were two chief parties: those who desired merely
to clip Napoleon's wings, and those who sought to bring back France to
her old boundaries. The Emperor Francis was still disposed to leave
him the "natural frontiers," provided he gave up all control of
Germany, Holland, and Italy. On the other side were the Czar and the
forward wing of the Prussian patriots. Frederick William was more
cautious, but in the main he deferred to the Czar's views on the
boundary question. Still, so powerful was the influence of the Emperor
Francis, Metternich, and Schwarzenberg, that the two parties were
evenly balanced and beset by many suspicions and fears, until the
arrival of the British Foreign Minister, Castlereagh, began to restore
something like confidence and concord.

The British Cabinet had decided that, as none of our three envoys then
at the allied headquarters had much diplomatic experience, our
Minister should go in person to supervise the course of affairs. He
reached head-quarters in the third week of January, and what Thiers
has called the proud simplicity of his conduct, contrasting as it did
with the uneasy finesse of Metternich and Nesselrode, imparted to his
counsels a weight which they merited from their disinterestedness.
Great Britain was in a very strong position. She had borne the brunt
of the struggle before the present coalition took shape: apart from
some modest gains to Hanover, she was about to take no part in the
ensuing territorial scramble: she even offered to give up many of her
oceanic conquests, provided that the European settlement would be such
as to guarantee a lasting peace.[405] And this, the British Minister
came to see, could not be attained while Napoleon reigned over a Great
France: the only sure pledge of peace would be the return of that
country to its old frontiers, and preferably to its ancient dynasty.

On the question of boundaries the Czar's views were not clearly
defined; they were personal rather than territorial. He was determined
to get rid of Napoleon; but he would not, as yet, hear of the
re-establishment of the Bourbons. He disliked that dynasty in general,
and Louis XVIII. in particular. Bernadotte seemed to him a far fitter
successor to Napoleon than the gouty old gentleman who for three and
twenty years had been morosely flitting about Europe and issuing
useless proclamations.

Here, indeed, was Napoleon's great chance: there was no man fit to
succeed him, and he knew it. Scarcely anyone but Bernadotte himself
agreed with the Czar as to the fitness of the choice just named. To
the allies the Prince Royal of Sweden was suspect for his loiterings,
and to Frenchmen he seemed a traitor. We find that Stein disagreed
with the Czar on this point, and declared that the Bourbons were the
only alternative to Napoleon. Assuredly, this was not because the
great German loved that family, but simply because he saw that their
very mediocrity would be a pledge that France would not again overflow
her old limits and submerge Europe.

Here, then, was the strength of Castlereagh's position. Amidst the
warping disputes and underhand intrigues his claims were clear,
disinterested, and logically tenable. Besides, they were so urged as
to calm the disputants. He quietly assured Metternich that Britain
would resist the absorption of the whole of Poland and Saxony by
Russia and Prussia; and on his side the Austrian statesman showed that
he would not oppose the return of the Bourbons to France "from any
family considerations," provided that that act came as the act of the
French nation.[406] And this was a proviso on which our Government and
Wellington already laid great stress.

Castlereagh's straightforward behaviour had an immense influence in
leading Metternich to favour a more drastic solution of the French
question than he had previously advocated. The Frankfurt proposals
were now quietly waived, and Metternich came to see the need of
withdrawing Belgium from France and intrusting it to the House of
Orange. Still, the Austrian statesman was for concluding peace with
Napoleon as soon as might be, though he confessed in his private
letters that peace did not depend on the Châtillon parleys. Some
persons, he wrote, wanted the Bourbons back: still more wished for a
Regency (_i.e._, Marie Louise as Regent for Napoleon II.): others
said: "Away with Napoleon, no peace is possible with him": the masses
cried out for peace, so as to end the whole affair: but added
Metternich: "The riddle will be solved before or in Paris."[407] There
spoke the discreet opportunist, always open to the logic of facts and
the persuasion of Castlereagh.

Our Minister found the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia far less
tractable; and he only partially succeeded in lulling their suspicions
that Metternich was hand and glove with Napoleon. So deep was the
Czar's distrust of the Austrian statesman and commander-in-chief that
he resolved to brush aside Metternich's diplomatic _pourparlers_, to
push on rapidly to Paris, and there dictate peace.[408]

But it was just this eagerness of the Czar and the Prussians to reach
Paris which kept alive Austrian fears. A complete triumph to their
arms would seal the doom of Poland and Saxony; and it has been thought
that Schwarzenberg, who himself longed for peace, not only sought to
save Austrian soldiers by keeping them back, but that at this time he
did less than his duty in keeping touch with Blücher. Several times
during the ensuing days the charge of treachery was hurled by the
Prussians against the Austrians, and once at least by Frederick
William himself. But it seems more probable that Metternich and
Schwarzenberg held their men back merely for prudential motives until
the resumption of the negotiations with France should throw more light
on the tangled political jungle through which the allies were groping.
It is significant that while Schwarzenberg cautiously felt about for
Napoleon's rearguard, of which he lost touch for two whole days,
Metternich insisted that the peace Congress must be opened.
Caulaincourt had for several days been waiting near the allied
head-quarters; and, said the Austrian Minister, it would be a breach
of faith to put him off any longer now that Castlereagh had arrived.
Only when Austria threatened to withdraw from the Coalition did
Alexander concede this point, and then with a very bad grace; for the
resumption of the negotiations virtually tied him to the neighbourhood
of Châtillon-sur-Seine, the town fixed for the Congress, while Blücher
was rapidly moving towards Paris with every prospect of snatching from
the imperial brow the coveted laurel of a triumphal entry.

To prevent this interference with his own pet plans, the susceptible
autocrat sent off from Bar-sur-Seine (February 7th) an order that
Blücher was not to enter Paris, but must await the arrival of the
sovereigns. The order was needless. Napoleon, goaded to fury by the
demands which the allies on that very day formulated at Châtillon,
flung himself upon Blücher and completely altered the whole military
situation. But before describing this wonderful effort, we must take a
glance at the diplomatic overtures which spurred him on.

The Congress of Châtillon opened on February 5th, and on that day
Castlereagh gained his point, that questions about our maritime code
should be completely banished from the discussions. Two days later the
allies declared that France must withdraw within the boundaries of
1791, with the exception of certain changes made for mutual
convenience and of some colonial retrocessions that England would
grant to France. The French plenipotentiary, Caulaincourt, heard this
demand with a quiet but strained composure: he reminded them that at
Frankfurt they had proposed to leave France the Rhine and the Alps; he
inquired what colonial sacrifices England was prepared to make if she
cooped up France in her old limits in Europe. To this our
plenipotentiaries Aberdeen, Cathcart, and Stewart refused to reply
until he assented to the present demand of the allies. He very
properly refused to do this; and, despite his eagerness to come to an
arrangement and end the misfortunes of France, referred the matter to
his master.[409]

What were Napoleon's views on these questions? It is difficult to
follow the workings of his mind before the time when Caulaincourt's
despatch flashed the horrible truth upon him that he might, after all,
leave France smaller and weaker than he found her. Then the lightnings
of his wrath flash forth, and we see the tumult and anguish of that
mighty soul: but previously the storm-wrack of passion and the
cloud-bank of his clinging will are lit up by few gleams of the
earlier piercing intelligence. On January the 4th he had written to
Caulaincourt that the policy of England and the personal rancour of
the Czar would drag Austria along. If Fortune betrayed him (Napoleon)
he would give up the throne: never would he sign any shameful peace.
But he added: "You must see what Metternich wants: it is not to
Austria's interest to push matters to the end." In the accompanying
instructions to his plenipotentiary, he seems to assent to the Alpine
and Rhenish frontiers, but advises him to sign the preliminaries as
vaguely as possible, "_as we have everything to gain by delay_." The
Rhine frontier must be so described as to leave France the Dutch
fortresses: and Savona and Spezzia must also count as on the French
side of the Alps. These, be it observed, are his notions when he has
not heard of the defection of Murat, or the rejection of his Spanish
bargain by the Cortès.

Twelve days later he proposes to Metternich an armistice, and again
suggests that it is not to Austria's interest to press matters too
far. But the allies are too wary to leave such a matter to Metternich:
at Teplitz they bound themselves to common action; and the proposal
only shows them the need of pushing on fast while their foe is still
unprepared. Once more his old optimism asserts itself. The first
French success, that at Brienne, leads him to hope that the allies
will now be ready to make peace. Even after the disaster at La
Rothière, he believes that the mere arrival of Caulaincourt at the
allied headquarters will foment the discords which there exist.[410]
Then, writing amidst the unspeakable miseries at Troyes (February
4th), he upbraids Caulaincourt for worrying him about "powers and
instructions when it is still doubtful if the enemy wants to
negotiate. His terms, it seems, are determined on beforehand. As soon
as you have them, you have the power to accept them or to refer them
to me within twenty-four hours."

After midnight, he again directs him to accept the terms, if
acceptable: "in the contrary case we will run the risks of a battle;
even the loss of Paris, and all that will ensue." Later on that day he
allows Maret to send a despatch giving Caulaincourt "carte blanche" to
conclude peace.[411] But the plenipotentiary dared not take on himself
the responsibility of accepting the terms offered by the allies two
days later. The last despatch was too vague to enable him to sign away
many thousands of square miles of territory: it contradicted the tenor
of Napoleon's letters, which empowered him to assent to nothing less
than the Frankfurt terms. And thus was to slip away one more chance of
bringing about peace--a peace that would strip the French Empire of
frontier lands and alien peoples, but leave it to the peasants' ruler,
Napoleon.

In truth, the Emperor's words and letters breathed nothing but warlike
resolve. Famine and misery accompany him on his march to Nogent, and
there, on the 7th, he hears tidings that strike despair to every heart
but his. An Anglo-German force is besieging the staunch old Carnot in
Antwerp; Bülow has entered Brussels; Belgium is lost: Macdonald's weak
corps is falling back on Epernay, hard pressed by Yorck, while Blücher
is heading for Paris. Last of all comes on the morrow Caulaincourt's
despatch announcing that the allies now insist on France returning to
the limits of 1791.

Never, surely, since the time of Job did calamity shower her blows so
thickly on the head of mortal man: and never were they met with less
resignation and more undaunted defiance. After receiving the black
budget of news the Emperor straightway shut himself up. For some time
his Marshals left him alone: but, as Caulaincourt's courier was
waiting for the reply, Berthier and Maret ventured to intrude on his
grief. He tossed them the letter containing the allied terms. A long
silence ensued, while they awaited his decision. As he spoke not a
word, they begged him to give way and grant peace to France. Then his
pent-up feelings burst forth: "What, you would have me sign a treaty
like that, and trample under foot my coronation oath! Unheard-of
disasters may have snatched from me the promise to renounce my
conquests: but, give up those made before me--never! God keep me from
such a disgrace. Reply to Caulaincourt since you wish it, but tell him
that I reject this treaty. I prefer to run the uttermost risks of
war." He threw himself on his camp bed. Maret waited by his side, and
gained from him in calmer moments permission to write to Caulaincourt
in terms that allowed the negotiation to proceed. At dawn on the 9th
Maret came back hoping to gain assent to despatches that he had been
drawing up during the night. To his surprise he found the Emperor
stretched out over large charts, compass in hand. "Ah, there you are,"
was his greeting; "now it's a question of very different matters. I am
going to beat Blücher: if I succeed, the state of affairs will
entirely change, and then we will see."

The tension of his feelings at this time, when rage and desperation
finally gave way to a fixed resolve to stake all on a blow at
Blücher's flank, finds expression in a phrase which has been omitted
from the official correspondence.[412] In one of the five letters
which he wrote to Joseph on the 9th, he remarked: "Pray the Madonna of
armies to be for us: Louis, who is a saint, may engage to give her a
lighted candle." A curiously sarcastic touch, probably due to his
annoyance at the _Misereres_ and "prayers forty hours long" at Paris
which he bade his Ministers curtail. Or was it a passing flash of that
religious sentiment which he professed in his declining years?

He certainly counted on victory over Blücher. A week earlier, he had
foreseen the chance that that leader would expose his flank: on the
7th he charged Marmont to occupy Sézanne, where he would be strongly
supported; on the afternoon of the 9th he set out from Nogent to
reinforce his Marshal; and on the morrow Marmont and Ney fell upon one
of Blücher's scattered columns at Champaubert. It was a corps of
Russians, less than 5,000 strong, with no horsemen and but twenty-four
cannon; the Muscovites offered a stout resistance, but only 1,500
escaped.[413] Blücher's line of march was now cut in twain. He himself
was at Vertus with the last column; his foremost corps, under Sacken,
was west of Montmirail, while Yorck was far to the north of that
village observing Macdonald's movements along the Château-Thierry
road.

The Emperor with 20,000 men might therefore hope to destroy these
corps piecemeal. Leaving Marmont along with Grouchy's horse to hold
Blücher in check on the east, he struck westwards against Sacken's
Russians near Montmirail. The shock was terrible; both sides were
weary with night marches on miry roads, along which cannon had to be
dragged by double teams: yet, though footsore and worn with cold and
hunger, the men fought with sustained fury, the French to stamp out
the barbarous invaders who had wasted their villages, the Russians to
hold their position until Yorck's Prussians should stretch a
succouring hand from the north. Many a time did the French rush at the
village of Marchais held by Sacken: they were repeatedly repulsed,
until, as darkness came on, Ney and Mortier with the Guard stormed a
large farmhouse on their left. Then, at last, Sacken's men drew off in
sore plight north-west across the fields, where Yorck's tardy advent
alone saved them from destruction. The next day completed their
discomfiture. Napoleon and Mortier pursued both allied corps to
Château-Thierry and, after sharp fighting in the streets of that
place, drove them across the Marne. The townsfolk hailed the advent of
their Emperor with unbounded joy: they had believed him to be at
Troyes, beaten and dispirited; and here he was delivering them from
the brutal licence of the eastern soldiery. Nothing was impossible to
him.

Next it was Blücher's turn. Leaving Mortier to pursue the fugitives of
Sacken and Yorck along the Soissons road, Napoleon left
Château-Thierry late at night on the 13th, following the mass of his
troops to reinforce Marmont. That Marshal had yielded ground to
Blücher's desperate efforts, but was standing at bay at Vauchamps,
when Napoleon drew near to the scene of the unequal fight. Suddenly a
mighty shout of "Vive l'Empereur" warned the assailants that they now
had to do with Napoleon. Yet no precipitation weakened the Emperor's
blow: not until his cavalry greatly outnumbered that of the allies did
he begin the chief attack. Stoutly it was beaten off by the allied
squares: but Drouot's artillery ploughed through their masses, while
swarms of horsemen were ready to open out those ghastly furrows. There
was nothing for it but retreat, and that across open country, where
the charges and the pounding still went on. But nothing could break
that stubborn infantry: animated by their leader, the Prussians and
Russians plodded steadily eastwards, until, as darkness drew on, they
found Grouchy's horse barring the road before Etoges. "Forward" was
still the veteran's cry: and through the cavalry they cut their way:
through hostile footmen that had stolen round to the village they also
burst, and at last found shelter near Bergères. "Words fail me," wrote
Colonel Hudson Lowe, "to express my admiration at their undaunted and
manly behaviour."

This gallant retreat shed lustre over the rank and file. But the sins
of the commanders had cost the allies dear. In four days the army of
Silesia lost fully 15,000 men, and its corps were driven far asunder
by Napoleon's incursion. His brilliant moves and trenchant strokes
astonished the world. With less than 30,000 men he had burst into
Blücher's line of march, and scattered in flight 50,000 warriors
advancing on Paris in full assurance of victory. It was not chance,
but science, that gave him these successes. Acting from behind the
screen of the Seine, he had thrown his small but undivided force
against scattered portions of a superior force. It was the strategy of
Lonato and Castiglione over again; and the enthusiasm of those days
bade fair to revive.

His men, who previously had tramped downheartedly over wastes of snow
and miry cross-roads, now marched with head erect as in former days;
the villagers, far from being cowed by the brutalities of the
Cossacks, formed bands to hang upon the enemies' rear and entrap their
foragers. Above all, Paris was herself once more. Before he began
these brilliant moves, he had to upbraid Cambacérès for his unmanly
conduct. "I see that instead of sustaining the Empress, you are
discouraging her. Why lose your head thus? What mean these _Miserere_
and these prayers of forty hours? Are you going mad at Paris?" Now the
capital again breathed defiance to the foe, and sent the Emperor
National Guards. Many of these from Brittany, it is true, came "in
round hats and _sabots_": they had no knapsacks: but they had guns,
and they fought.

Could he have pursued Blücher on the morrow he might probably have
broken up even that hardy infantry, now in dire straits for want of
supplies. But bad news came to hand from the south-west. Under urgent
pressure from the Czar, Schwarzenberg had pushed forward two columns
from Troyes towards Paris: one of them had seized the bridge over the
Seine at Bray, a day's march below Nogent: the other was nearing
Fontainebleau. Napoleon was furious at the neglect of Victor to guard
the crossing at Bray, and reluctantly turned away from Blücher to
crush these columns. His men marched or were carried in vehicles, by
way of Meaux and Guignes, to reinforce Victor: on the 17th they drove
back the outposts of Schwarzenberg's centre, while Macdonald and
Oudinot marched towards Nogent to threaten his right. These rapid
moves alarmed the Austrian commander, whose left, swung forward on
Fontainebleau, was in some danger of being cut off. He therefore sued
for an armistice. It was refused; and the request drew from Napoleon a
letter to his brother Joseph full of contempt for the allies (February
18th). "It is difficult," he writes, "to be so cowardly as that! He
[Schwarzenberg] had constantly, and in the most insulting terms,
refused a suspension of arms of any kind, ... and yet these wretches
at the first check fall on their knees. I will grant no armistice till
my territory is clear of them." He adds that he now expected to gain
the "natural frontiers" offered by the allies at Frankfurt--the
minimum that he could accept with honour; and he closes with these
memorable words, which flash a searchlight on his pacific professions
of thirteen months later: "If I had agreed to the old boundaries, I
should have rushed to arms two years later, telling the nation that I
had signed not a peace, but a capitulation."[414]

The events of the 18th strengthened his resolve. He then attacked the
Crown Prince of Würtemberg on the north side of the Seine, opposite
Montereau, overthrew him by the weight of the artillery of the Guard,
whereupon a brilliant charge of Pajol's horsemen wrested the bridge
from the South Germans and restored to the Emperor the much-needed
crossing over the river. Napoleon's activity on that day was
marvellous. He wrote or dictated eleven despatches, six of them long
before dawn, gave instructions to an officer who was to encourage
Eugène to hold firm in Italy, fought a battle, directed the aim of
several cannon, and wound up the day by severe rebukes to Marshal
Victor and two generals for their recent blunders. Thus, on a brief
winter's day, he fills the _rôle_ of Emperor, organizer, tactician,
cannoneer, and martinet; in fact, he crowns it by pardoning Victor,
when that brave man vows that he cannot live away from the army, and
will fight as a common soldier among the Guards: he then and there
assigns to him two divisions of the Guard. To the artillerymen the
_camaraderie_ of the Emperor gave a new zest: and when they ventured
to reproach him for thus risking his life, he replied with a touch of
the fatalism which enthralls a soldier's mind: "Ah! don't fear: the
ball is not cast that will kill me."

Yes: Napoleon displayed during these last ten days a fertility of
resource, a power to drive back the tide of events, that have dazzled
posterity, as they dismayed his foes. We may seek in vain for a
parallel, save perhaps in the careers of Hannibal and Frederick.
Alexander the Great's victories were won over Asiatics: Cæsar's
magnificent rally of his wavering bands against the onrush of the
Nervii was but one effort of disciplined valour crushing the
impetuosity of the barbarian. Marlborough and Wellington often
triumphed over great odds and turned the course of history. But their
star had never set so low as that of Napoleon's after La Rothière, and
never did it rush to the zenith with a splendour like that which
blinded the trained hosts of Blücher and Schwarzenberg. Whatever the
mistakes of these leaders, and they were great, there is something
that defies analysis in Napoleon's sudden transformation of his beaten
dispirited band into a triumphant array before which four times their
numbers sought refuge in retreat. But it is just this transcendent
quality that adds a charm to the character and career of Napoleon.
Where analysis fails, there genius begins.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVII

THE FIRST ABDICATION


It now remained to be seen whether Napoleon would make a wise use of
his successes. While the Grand Army drew in its columns behind the
sheltering line of the Seine at Troyes, the French Emperor strove to
reap in diplomacy the fruits of his military prowess. In brief, he
sought to detach Austria from the Coalition. From Nogent he wrote, on
February 21st, to the Emperor Francis, dwelling on the impolicy of
Austria continuing the war. Why should she subordinate her policy to
that of England and to the personal animosities of the Czar? Why
should she see her former Belgian provinces handed over to a
Protestant Dutch Prince about to be allied with the House of Brunswick
by marriage? France would never give up Belgium; and he, as French
Emperor, would never sign a peace that would drive her from the Rhine
and exclude her from the circle of the Great Powers. But if Austria
really wished for the equilibrium of Europe, he (Napoleon) was ready
to forget the past and make peace on the basis of the Frankfurt
terms.[415]

Had these offers been rather less exacting, and reached the allied
headquarters a week earlier, they might have led to the break up of
the Coalition. For the political situation of the allies had been even
more precarious than that of their armies. The pretensions of the Czar
had excited indignation and alarm. Swayed to and fro between the
counsels of his old tutor, Laharpe, now again at his side, and his own
autocratic instincts, he declared that he would push on to Paris,
consult the will of the French people by a plébiscite, and abide by
its decision, even if it gave a new lease of power to Napoleon. But
side by side with this democratic proposal came another of a more
despotic type, that the military Governor of Paris must be a Russian
officer.

The amusement caused by these odd notions was overshadowed by alarm.
Metternich, Castlereagh, and Hardenberg saw in them a ruse for
foisting on France either Bernadotte, or an orientalized Republic, or
a Muscovite version of the Treaty of Tilsit. Then again, on February
9th, Alexander sent a mandate to the plenipotentiaries at Châtillon,
requesting that their sessions should be suspended, though he had
recently agreed at Langres to enter into negotiations with France,
provided that the military operations were not suspended. Evidently,
then, he was bent on forcing the hands of his allies, and Austria
feared that he might at the end of the war insist on her taking
Alsace, as a set-off to the loss of Eastern Galicia which he wished to
absorb. So keen was the jealousy thus aroused, that at Troyes
Metternich and Hardenberg signed a secret agreement to prevent the
Czar carrying matters with a high hand at Paris (February 14th); and
on the same day they sent him a stiff Note requesting the resumption
of the negotiations with Napoleon. Indeed, Austria formally threatened
to withdraw her troops from the war, unless he limited his aims to the
terms propounded by the allies at Châtillon. Alexander at first
refused; but the news of Blücher's disasters shook his determination,
and he assented on that day, provided that steps were at once taken to
lighten the pressure on the Russian corps serving under Blücher. Thus,
by February 14th, the crisis was over.[416]

Schwarzenberg cautiously pushed on three columns to attract the
thunderbolts that otherwise would have destroyed the Silesian Army
root and branch; and he succeeded. True, his vanguard was beaten at
Montereau; but, by drawing Napoleon south and then east of the Seine,
he gave time to Blücher to strengthen his shattered array and resume
the offensive. Meanwhile Bülow, with the northern army, began to draw
near to the scene of action, and on the 23rd the allies took the wise
step of assigning his corps, along with those of Winzingerode,
Woronzoff, and Strogonoff, to the Prussian veteran. The last three
corps were withdrawn from the army of Bernadotte, and that prince was
apprized of the fact by the Czar in a rather curt letter.

The diplomatic situation had also cleared up before Napoleon's letter
reached the Emperor Francis. The negotiations with Caulaincourt were
resumed at Châtillon on February the 17th; and there is every reason
to think that Austria, England, Prussia, and perhaps even Russia would
now gladly have signed peace with Napoleon on the basis of the French
frontiers of 1791, provided that he renounced all claims to
interference in the affairs of Europe outside those limits.[417]

These demands would certainly have been accepted by the French
plenipotentiary had he listened to his own pacific promptings. But he
was now in the most painful position. Maret had informed him, the day
after Montmirail, that Napoleon was set on keeping the Rhenish and
Alpine frontiers.[418] He could, therefore, do nothing but temporize.
He knew how precarious was the military supremacy just snatched by his
master, and trusted that a few days more would bring wisdom before it
was too late. But his efforts for delay were useless.

While he was marking time, Napoleon was sending him despatches
instinct with pride. "I have made 30,000 to 40,000 prisoners," he
wrote on the 17th: "I have taken 200 cannon, a great number of
generals, and destroyed several armies, almost without striking a
blow. I yesterday checked Schwarzenberg's army, which I hope to
destroy before it recrosses my frontier." And two days later, after
hearing the allied terms, he wrote that they would make the blood of
every Frenchman boil with indignation, and that he would dictate _his_
ultimatum at Troyes or Châtillon. Of course, Caulaincourt kept these
diatribes to himself, but his painfully constrained demeanour betrayed
the secret that he longed for peace and that his hands were tied.

On all sides proofs were to be seen that Napoleon would never give up
Belgium and the Rhine frontier. When the allies (at the suggestion of
Schwarzenberg, and _with the approval of the Czar_) sued for an
armistice, he forbade his envoys to enter into any parleys until the
allies agreed to accept the "natural frontiers" as the basis for a
peace, and retired in the meantime on Alsace, Lorraine, and
Holland.[419] These last conditions he agreed three days later to
relax; but on the first point he was inexorable, and he knew that the
military commissioners appointed to arrange the truce had no power to
agree to the _political_ article which he made a _sine quâ non_.

Accordingly, no armistice was concluded, and his unbending attitude
made a bad impression on the Emperor Francis, who, on the 27th,
replied to his son-in-law in terms which showed that his blows were
welding the Coalition more firmly together.[420]

In fact, while the plenipotentiaries at Châtillon were exchanging
empty demands, a most important compact was taking form at Chaumont:
it was dated from the 1st of March, but definitively signed on the
9th. Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia thereby bound
themselves not to treat singly with France for peace, but to continue
the war until France was brought back to her old frontiers, and the
complete independence of Germany, Holland, Switzerland, and Spain was
secured. Each of the four Powers must maintain 150,000 men in the
field (exclusive of garrisons); and Britain agreed to aid her allies
with equal yearly subsidies amounting in all to £5,000,000 for the
year 1814.[421] The treaty would be only defensive if Napoleon
accepted the allied terms formulated at Châtillon: otherwise it would
be offensive and hold good, if need be, for twenty years.

Undoubtedly this compact was largely the work of Castlereagh, whose
tact and calmness had done wonders in healing schisms; but so intimate
a union could never have been formed among previously discordant
allies but for their overmastering fear of Napoleon. Such a treaty was
without parallel in European history; and the stringency of its
clauses serves as the measure of the prowess and perversity of the
French Emperor. It is puerile to say, as Mollien does, that England
bribed the allies to this last effort. Experiences of the last months
had shown them that peace could not be durable as long as Napoleon
remained in a position to threaten Germany. Even now they were ready
to conclude it with Napoleon on the basis of the old frontiers of
France, provided that he assented before the 11th of March; but the
most pacific of their leaders saw that the more they showed their
desire for peace, the more they strengthened Napoleon's resolve to
have it only on terms which they saw to be fraught with future
danger.[422]

While the conferences at Châtillon followed one another in fruitless
succession, Blücher, with 48,000 effectives, was once more resuming
the offensive. Napoleon heard the news at Troyes (February 25th). He
was surprised at the veteran's temerity: he had pictured him crushed
and helpless beyond Chalons, and had cherished the hope of destroying
Schwarzenberg.--"If," he wrote to Clarke on the morrow, "I had had a
pontoon bridge, the war would be over, and Schwarzenberg's army would
no longer exist.... For want of boats, I could not pass the Seine at
the necessary points. It was not 50 boats that I needed, only
20."--With this characteristic outburst against his War Minister,
whose neglect to send up twenty boats from Paris had changed the
world's history, the Emperor turned aside to overwhelm Blücher. The
Prussian commander was near the junction of the Seine and the Aube;
and seemed to offer his flank as unguardedly as three weeks before.

Napoleon sent Ney, Victor, and Arrighi northwards to fall on his rear,
and on the 27th repaired to Arcis-sur-Aube to direct the operations.
What, then, was his annoyance when, in pursuance of the allied plan
formed on the 23rd, Blücher skilfully retired northwards, withdrew
beyond the Marne and broke the bridges behind him. Then after failing
to drive Marmont and Mortier from Meaux and the line of the Ourcq, the
Prussian leader marched towards Soissons, near which town he expected
to meet the northern army of the allies. For some hours he was in
grave danger: Marmont hung on his rear, and Napoleon with 35,000 hardy
troops was preparing to turn his right flank. In fact, had he not
broken the bridge over the Marne at La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and thereby
delayed the Emperor thirty-six hours, he would probably have been
crushed before he could cross the River Aisne. His men were dead beat
by marching night and day over roads first covered by snow and now
deep in slush: for a week they had had no regular rations, and great
was their joy when, at the close of the 2nd, they drew near to the
42,000 troops that Bülow and Winzingerode mustered near the banks of
the Aisne and Vesle.

On that day Napoleon, when delayed at La Ferté, conceived the daring
idea of rushing on the morrow after Blücher, who was "very embarrassed
in the mire," and then of carrying the war into Lorraine, rescuing the
garrisons of Verdun, Toul, and Metz, and rousing the peasantry of the
east of France against the invaders. It mattered not that
Schwarzenberg had dealt Oudinot and Gérard a severe check at
Bar-sur-Aube, as soon as Napoleon's back was turned. That cautious
leader would be certain, he thought, to beat a retreat towards the
Rhine as soon as his rear was threatened; and Napoleon pictured France
rising as in 1793, shaking off her invaders and dictating a glorious
peace.

Far different was the actual situation. Blücher was not to be caught;
a sharp frost on the 3rd improved the roads; and his complete junction
with the northern army was facilitated by the surrender of Soissons on
that same afternoon. This fourth-rate fortress was ill-prepared to
withstand an attack; and, after a short bombardment by Winzingerode,
two allied officers made their way to the Governor, praised his
bravery, pointed out the uselessness of further resistance, and
offered to allow the garrison to march out with the honours of war and
rejoin the Emperor, where they could fight to more advantage. The
Governor, who bore the ill-starred name of Moreau, finally gave way,
and his troops, nearly all Poles, marched out at 4 p.m., furious at
his "treason"; for the distant thunder of Marmont's cannon was already
heard on the side of Oulchy. Rumour said that they were the Emperor's
cannon, but rumour lied. At dawn Napoleon's troops had begun to cross
the temporary bridge over the Marne, thirty-five miles away; but by
great exertions his outposts on that evening reached Rocourt, only
some twenty miles south of Soissons.[423]

The fact deserves notice: for it disposes of the strange statement of
Thiers that the surrender of Soissons was, next to Waterloo, the most
fatal event in the annals of France. The gifted historian, as also, to
some extent, M. Houssaye, assumed that, had Soissons held out, Blücher
and Bülow could not have united their forces. But Bülow had not relied
solely on the bridge at Soissons for the union of the armies; on the
2nd he had thrown a bridge over the Aisne at Vailly, some distance
above that city, and another on the third near to its eastern
suburb.[424] It is clear, then, that the two armies, numbering in all
over 100,000 men, could have joined long before Napoleon, Marmont, and
Mortier were in a position to attack. Before the Emperor heard of the
surrender, he had marched to Fismes, and had detached Corbineau to
occupy Rheims, evidently with the aim of cutting Blücher's
communications with Schwarzenberg, and opening up the way to Verdun
and Metz.

For that plan was now his dominant aim, while the repulse of Blücher
was chiefly of importance because it would enable him to stretch a
hand eastwards to his beleaguered garrisons.[425] But Blücher was not
to be thus disposed of. While withdrawing from Soissons to the natural
fortress of Laon, he heard that Napoleon had crossed the Aisne at
Berry-au-Bac, and was making for Craonne. Above that town there rises
a long narrow ridge or plateau, which Blücher ordered his Russian
corps to occupy. There was fought one of the bloodiest battles of the
war (March 7th). The aim of the allies was to await the French attack
on the plateau, while 10,000 horsemen and sixty guns worked round and
fell on their rear.

The plan failed, owing to a mistake in the line of march of this
flanking force: and the battle resolved itself into a soldiers' fight.
Five times did Ney lead his braves up those slopes, only to be hurled
back by the dogged Muscovites. But the Emperor now arrived; a sixth
attack by the cavalry and artillery of the Guard battered in the
defence; and Blücher, hearing that the flank move had failed, ordered
a retreat on Laon. This confused and desperate fight cost both sides
about 7,000 men, nearly a fourth of the numbers engaged. Victor,
Grouchy, and six French generals were among the wounded.[426]

Nevertheless, Napoleon struggled on: he called up Marmont and Mortier,
gave out that he was about to receive other large reinforcements, and
bade his garrisons in Belgium and Lorraine fall on the rear of the
foe. One more victory, he thought, would end the war, or at least
lower the demands of the allies. It was not to be. Blücher and Bülow
held the strong natural citadel of Laon; and all Napoleon's efforts on
March the 9th and 10th failed to storm the southern approaches.
Marmont fared no better on the east; and when, at nightfall, the weary
French fell back, the Prussians resolved to try a night attack on
Marmont's corps, which was far away from the main body. Never was a
surprise more successful; Marmont was quite off his guard; horse and
foot fled in wild confusion, leaving 2,500 prisoners and forty-five
cannon in the hands of the victorious Yorck. Could the allies have
pressed home their advantage, the result must have been decisive; but
Blücher had fallen ill, and a halt was called.[427]

Alone, among the leaders in this campaign, the Emperor remained
unbroken. All the allied leaders had at one time or another bent under
his blows; and the French Marshals seemed doomed, as in 1813, to fail
wherever their Emperor was not. Ney, Victor, and Mortier had again
evinced few of the qualities of a commander, except bravery. Augereau
was betraying softness and irresolution in the Lyonnais in front of a
smaller Austrian force. Suchet and Davoust were shut up in Catalonia
and Hamburg. St. Cyr and Vandamme were prisoners. Soult had kept a
bold front near Bayonne: but now news was to hand that Wellington had
surprised and routed him at Orthez. On the Seine, Macdonald and
Oudinot failed to hold Troyes against the masses of Schwarzenberg. Of
all the French Marshals, Marmont had distinguished himself the most in
this campaign, and now at Laon he had been caught napping. Yet, while
all others failed, Napoleon seemed invincible. Even after Marmont's
disaster, the allies forbore to attack the chief; and, just as a lion
that has been beaten off by a herd of buffaloes stalks away, mangled
but full of fight and unmolested, so the Emperor drew off in peace
towards Soissons. Thence he marched on Rheims, gained a victory over a
Russian division there, and hoped to succour his Lorraine garrisons,
when, on the 17th, the news of Schwarzenberg's advance towards Paris
led him southwards once more.

Yielding to the remonstrances of the Czar, the Austrian leader had
purposed to march on the French capital, if everything went well; but
he once more drew back on receiving news of Napoleon's advance against
his right flank. While preparing to retire towards Brienne, he heard
that his great antagonist had crossed that river at Plancy with less
than 20,000 troops. To retrace his steps, fall upon this handful of
weary men with 100,000, and drive them into the river, was not a
daring conception: but so accustomed were the allies to dalliance and
delay that a thrill of surprise ran through the host when he began to
call up its retiring columns for a fight.[428]

Napoleon also was surprised: he believed the Grand Army to be in full
retreat, and purposed then to dash on Vitry and Verdun.[429] But the
allies gave him plenty of time to draw up Macdonald's and Oudinot's
corps, while they themselves were still so widely sundered as at first
scarcely to stay his onset. The fighting behind Arcis was desperate:
Napoleon exposed his person freely to snatch victory from the
deepening masses in front. At one time a shell burst in front of him,
and his staff shivered as they saw his figure disappear in the cloud
of smoke and dust; but he arose unhurt, mounted another charger and
pressed on the fight. It was in vain: he was compelled to draw back
his men to the town (March 20th). On the morrow a bold attack by
Schwarzenberg could have overwhelmed Napoleon's 30,000 men; but his
bold front imposed on the Austrian leader, while the French were drawn
across the river, only the rearguard suffering heavily from the
belated attack of the allies. With the loss of 4,000 men, Napoleon
fell back northwards into the wasted plains of Sézanne. Hope now
vanished from every breast but his. And surely if human weakness had
ever found a place in that fiery soul, it might now have tempted him
to sue for peace. He had flung himself first north, then south, in
order to keep for France the natural frontiers that he might have had
as a present last November; he had failed; and now he might with
honour accept the terms of the victors. But once more he was too late.

The negotiations at Châtillon had ended on March 19th, that is, nine
days later than had been originally fixed by the allies. The extension
of time was due mainly to their regard and pity for Caulaincourt; and,
indeed, he was in the most pitiable position, a plenipotentiary
without full powers, a Minister kept partly in the dark by his
sovereign, and a patriot unable to rescue his beloved France from the
abyss towards which Napoleon's infatuation was hurrying her. He knew
the resolve of the allies far better than his master's intentions. It
was from Lord Aberdeen that he heard of the failure of the parleys for
an armistice: from him also he learnt that Napoleon had written a
"passionate" letter to Kaiser Francis, and he expressed satisfaction
that the reply was firm and decided.[430] His private intercourse at
Châtillon with the British plenipotentiaries was frank and friendly,
as also with Stadion. He received frequent letters from Metternich,
advising him quickly to come to terms with the allies;[431] and the
Austrian Minister sent Prince Esterhazy to warn him that the allies
would never recede from their demand of the old frontiers for France,
not even if the fortune of war drove them across the Rhine for a time.
"Is there, then, no means to enlighten Napoleon as to his true
situation, or to save him if he persists in destroying himself? Has he
irrevocably staked his own and his son's fate on the last
cannon?"--Let Napoleon, then, accept the allied proposal by sending a
counter-project, differing only very slightly from theirs, and peace
would be made.[432] Caulaincourt needed no spur. "He works tooth and
nail for a peace," wrote Stewart, "as far as depends on him. He dreads
Bonaparte's successes even more than ours, lest they should make him
more impracticable."[433]

But, unfortunately, his latest and most urgent appeal to the Emperor
reached the latter just after the Pyrrhic victory at Craonne, which
left him more stubborn than ever. Far from meeting the allies halfway,
he let fall words that bespoke only injured pride: "If one must
receive lashes," he said within hearing of the courier, "it is not for
me to offer my back to them." On the morrow he charged Maret to reply
to his distressed plenipotentiary that he (Napoleon) knew best what
the situation demanded; the demand of the allies that France should
retire within her old frontiers was only their _first word:_
Caulaincourt must get to know their ultimatum: if this was their
ultimatum, he must reject it. He (Napoleon) would possibly give up
Dutch Brabant and the fortresses of Wesel, Castel (opposite Mainz),
and Kehl, but would make no substantial changes on the Frankfurt
terms. Still, Caulaincourt struggled on. When the session of March
10th was closing, he produced a declaration offering to give up all
Napoleon's claims to control lands beyond the natural limits.

The others divined that it was his own handiwork, drawn up in order to
spin out the negotiations and leave his master a few days of
grace.[434] They respected his intentions, and nine days of grace were
gained; but the only answer that Napoleon vouchsafed to Caulaincourt's
appeals was the missive of March 17th from Rheims: "I have received
your letters of the 13th. I charge the Duke of Bassano to answer them
in detail. I give you directly the power to make the concessions which
would be indispensable to keep up the activity of the negotiations,
and to get to know at last the ultimatum of the allies, it being well
understood that the treaty would have for result the evacuation of our
territory and the release of all prisoners on both sides." The
instructions which he charged the Duke of Bassano to send to
Caulaincourt were such as a victor might have dictated. The allies
must evacuate his territory and give up all the fortresses as soon as
the preliminaries of peace were signed: if the negotiations were to
break off they had better break off on this question. He himself would
cease to control lands beyond the natural frontiers, and would
recognize the independence of Holland: as regards Belgium, he would
refuse to cede it to a prince of the House of Orange, but he hinted
that it might well go to a French prince as an indemnity--evidently
Joseph Bonaparte was meant. If this concession were made, he expected
that all the French colonies, including the Ile de France, would be
restored. Nothing definite was said about the Rhine frontier.

The courier who carried these proposals from Rheims to Châtillon was
twice detained by the Russians, and had not reached the town when the
Congress came to an end (March 19th). Their only importance,
therefore, is to show that, despite all the warnings in which the
Prague negotiations were so fruitful, Napoleon clung to the same
threatening and dilatory tactics which had then driven Austria into
the arms of his foes. He still persisted in looking on the time limit
of the allies as meaningless, on their ultimatum as their _first
word_, from which they would soon shuffle away under the pressure of
his prowess--and this, too, when Caulaincourt was daily warning him
that the hours were numbered, that nothing would change the resolve of
his foes, and that their defeats only increased their exasperation
against him.

If anything could have increased this exasperation, it was the
discovery that he was playing with them all the time. On the 20th the
allied scouts brought to head-quarters a despatch written by Maret the
day before to Caulaincourt which contained this damning sentence: "The
Emperor's desires remain entirely vague on everything relating to the
delivering up of the strongholds, Antwerp, Mayence, and Alessandria,
if you should be obliged to consent to these cessions, as he has the
intention, even after the ratification of the treaty, to take counsel
from the military situation of affairs. Wait for the last
moment."[435] Peace, then, was to be patched up for Napoleon's
convenience and broken by him at the first seasonable opportunity. Is
it surprising that on that same day the Ministers of the Powers
decided to have no more negotiations with Napoleon, and that
Metternich listened not unfavourably to the emissary of the Bourbons,
the Count de Vitrolles, whom he had previously kept at arm's length?

In truth, Napoleon was now about to stake everything on a plan from
which other leaders would have recoiled, but which, in his eyes,
promised a signal triumph. This was to rally the French garrisons in
Lorraine and throw himself on Schwarzenberg's rear. It was, indeed,
his only remaining chance. With his band of barely 40,000 men, kept up
to that number by the arrival of levies that impaired its solidity, he
could scarcely hope to beat back the dense masses now marshalled
behind the Aube, the Seine, and the Marne.

A glance at the map will show that behind those rivers the allies
could creep up within striking distance of Paris, while from his
position north of the Aube he could attack them only by crossing one
or other of those great streams, the bridges of which were in their
hands. He still held the central position; but it was robbed of its
value if he could not attack. Warfare for him was little else than the
art of swift and decisive attack; or, as he tersely phrased it, "The
art of war is to march twelve leagues, fight a battle, and march
twelve more in pursuit." As this was now impossible against the fronts
and flanks of the allies, it only remained to threaten the rear of the
army which was most likely to be intimidated by such a manoeuvre. And
this was clearly the army led by Schwarzenberg. From Blücher and Bülow
naught but defiance to the death was to be expected, and their rear
was supported by the Dutch strongholds.

But the Austrians had shown themselves as soft in their strategy as in
their diplomacy. Everyone at the allied headquarters knew that
Schwarzenberg was unequal to the load of responsibility thrust on him,
that the incursion of a band of Alsatian peasants on his convoys made
him nervous, and that he would not move on Paris as long as his
"communications were exposed to a movement by Chalons and Vitry."[436]
What an effect, then, would be produced on that timid commander by an
"Imperial Vendée" in Alsace, Lorraine, and Franche-Comté!

And such a rising might then have become fierce and widespread. The
east and centre were the strongholds of French democracy, as they had
been the hotbed of feudal and monarchical abuses; and at this very
time the Bourbon princes declared themselves at Nancy and Bordeaux.
The tactless Comte d'Artois was at Nancy, striving to whip up royalist
feeling in Lorraine, and his eldest son, the Duc d'Angoulême, entered
Bordeaux with the British red-coats (March 12th).

To explain how this last event was possible we must retrace our steps.
After Soult was driven by Wellington from the mountains at the back of
the town of Orthez, he drew back his shattered troops over the River
Adour, and then turned sharply to the east in order to join hands with
Suchet's corps. This move, excellent as it was in a military sense,
left Bordeaux open to the British; and Wellington forthwith sent
Beresford northwards with 12,000 troops to occupy that great city. He
met with a warm greeting from the French royalists, as also did the
Duc d'Angoulême, who arrived soon after. The young prince at once
proclaimed Louis XVIII. King of France, and allowed the royalist mayor
to declare that the allies were advancing to Paris merely in order to
destroy Napoleon and replace him by the rightful monarch. Strongly as
Wellington's sympathies ran with the aim of this declaration, he
emphatically repudiated it. Etiquette compelled him to do so; for the
allies were still negotiating with Napoleon; and his own tact warned
him that the Bourbons must never come into France under the cloak of
the allies.

The allied sovereigns had as yet done nothing to favour their cause;
and the wiser heads among the French royalists saw how desirable it
was that the initiative should come from France. The bad effects of
the Bordeaux manifesto were soon seen in the rallying of National
Guards and peasants to the tricolour against the hated _fleur-de-lys;_
and Beresford's men could do little more than hold their own.[437] If
that was the case in the monarchical south, what might not Napoleon
hope to effect in the east, now that the Bourbon "chimæra" threatened
to become a fact?

The news as to the state of Paris was less satisfactory. That fickle
populace cheered royalist allusions at the theatres, hissed off an
"official" play that represented Cossack marauders,[438] and caused
such alarm to Savary that he wrote to warn his master of the inability
of the police to control the public if the war rolled on towards
Paris. Whether Savary's advice was honestly stupid, or whether, as
Lavalette hints, Talleyrand's intrigues were undermining his loyalty
to Napoleon, it is difficult to say. But certainly the advice gave
Napoleon an additional reason for flinging himself on Schwarzenberg's
rear and drawing him back into Lorraine. He had reason to hope that
Augereau, reinforced by some of Suchet's troops, would march towards
Dijon and threaten the Austrians on the south, while he himself
pressed on them from the north-east. In that case, would not Austria
make peace, and leave Alexander and Blücher at his mercy? And might he
not hope to cut off the Comte d'Artois, and possibly also catch
Bernadotte, who had been angling unsuccessfully for popular support in
the north-east?

But, while basing all his hopes on the devotion of the French
peasantry and the pacific leanings of Austria, the French Emperor left
out of count the eager hatred of the Czar and the Prussians. "Blücher
would be mad if he attempted any serious movement," so Napoleon wrote
to Berthier on the 20th, apparently on the strength of his former
suggestion that Joseph should persuade Bernadotte to desert the allies
and attack Blücher's rear.[439] At least, it is difficult to find any
other reason for Napoleon's strange belief that Blücher would sit
still while his allies were being beaten; unless, indeed, we accept
Marmont's explanation that Napoleon's brain now rejected all
unpleasing news and registered wishes as facts.

Fortune seemed to smile on his enterprise. Though he failed to take
Vitry from the allied garrison, yet near St. Dizier he fell on a
Prussian convoy, captured 800 men and 400 wagons filled with stores.
Everywhere he ordered the tocsin to proclaim a _levée en masse_, and
sent messengers to warn his Lorraine garrisons to cut their way to his
side. His light troops spread up the valley of the Marne towards
Chaumont, capturing stores and couriers; and he seized this
opportunity, when he pictured the Austrians as thoroughly demoralized,
to send Caulaincourt from Doulevant with offers to renew the
negotiations for peace (March 25th).[440] But while Napoleon awaits
the result of these proposals, his rear is attacked: he retraces his
steps, falls on the assailants, and finds that they belong to Blücher.
But how can Prussians be there in force? Is not Blücher resting on the
banks of the Aisne? And where is Schwarzenberg? The Emperor pushes a
force on to Vitry to solve this riddle, and there the horrible truth
unfolds itself little by little that he stands on the brink of ruin.

It is a story instinct with an irony like that of the infatuation of
King Oedipus in the drama of Sophocles. Every step that the warrior
has taken to snatch at victory increases the completeness of the
disaster. The Emperor Francis, scared by the approach of the French
horsemen, and not wishing to fall into the hands of his son-in-law,
has withdrawn with Metternich to Dijon.

Napoleon's letter to him is lost.[441] Metternich, well guarded by
Castlereagh, is powerless to meet Caulaincourt's offer, and their
flight leaves Schwarzenberg under the influence of the Czar.[442]
Moreover, Blücher has not been idle. While Napoleon is hurrying
eastwards to Vitry, the Prussian leader drives back Marmont's weak
corps, his vanguard crosses the Marne near Epernay on the 23rd, his
Cossacks capture a courier bearing a letter written on that day by
Napoleon to Marie Louise. It ends thus: "I have decided to march
towards the Marne, in order to push the enemy's army further from
Paris, and to draw near to my fortresses. I shall be this evening at
St. Dizier. Adieu, my friend! Embrace my son." Warned by this letter
of Napoleon's plan, Blücher pushes on; his outposts on the morrow join
hands with those of Schwarzenberg, and send a thrill of vigour into
the larger force.

That leader, held at bay by Macdonald's rearguard, was groping after
Napoleon, when the capture of a French despatch, and the news
forwarded by Blücher, informed him of the French Emperor's eastward
march. A council of war was therefore held at Pougy on the afternoon
of the 23rd, when the Czar and the bolder spirits led Schwarzenberg to
give up his communications with Switzerland, and stake everything on
joining Blücher, and following Napoleon's 40,000 with an array of
180,000 men. But the capture of another French despatch a few hours
later altered the course of events once more. This time it was a
budget of official news from Paris to Napoleon, describing the
exhaustion of the finances, the discontent of the populace, and the
sensation caused by Wellington's successes and the capture of
Bordeaux. These glad tidings inspired Alexander with a far more
incisive plan--to march on Paris. This suggestion had been pressed on
him on the 17th by Baron de Vitrolles, a French royalist agent, at the
close of a long interview; and now its advantages were obvious.
Accordingly, at Sommepuis, on the 24th, he convoked his generals,
Barclay, Volkonski, Toll, and Diebitsch, to seek their advice. Barclay
was for following Napoleon, but the two last voted for the advance to
Paris, Toll maintaining that only 10,000 horsemen need be left behind
to screen their movements. The Czar signified his warm approval of
this plan; a little later the King of Prussia gave his assent, and
Schwarzenberg rather doubtfully deferred to their wishes. Thus the
result of Napoleon's incursion on the rear of the allies signally
belied his expectations. Instead of compelling the enemy to beat a
retreat on the Rhine, it left the road open to his capital.[443]

At dawn on the 25th, then, the allied Grand Army turned to the
right-about, while Blücher's men marched joyfully on the parallel road
from Chalons. Near La Fère-Champenoise, on that day, a cloud of
Russian and Austrian horse harassed Marmont's and Mortier's corps, and
took 2,500 prisoners and fifty cannon. Further to the north, Blücher's
Cossacks swooped on a division of 4,500 men, mostly National Guards,
that guarded a large convoy. Stoutly the French formed in squares, and
beat them off again and again. Thereupon Colonel Hudson Lowe rode away
southwards, to beg reinforcements from Wrede's Bavarians.

They, too, failed to break that indomitable infantry. The 180 wagons
had to be left behind; but the recruits plodded on, and seemed likely
to break through to Marmont, when the Czar came on the scene. At once
he ordered up artillery, riddled their ranks with grapeshot, and when
their commander, Pacthod, still refused to surrender, threatened to
overwhelm their battered squares by the cavalry of his Guard. Pacthod
thereupon ordered his square to surrender. Another band also grounded
arms; but the men in the last square fought on, reckless of life, and
were beaten down by a whirlwind of sabring, stabbing horsemen, whose
fury the generous Czar vainly strove to curb. "I blushed for my very
nature as a man," wrote Colonel Lowe, "at witnessing this scene of
carnage." The day was glorious for France, but it cost her, in all,
more than 5,000 killed and wounded, 4,000 prisoners, and 80 cannon,
besides the provisions and stores designed for Napoleon's army.[444]
Nothing but the wreck of Marmont's and Mortier's corps, about 12,000
men in all, now barred the road to Paris. Meeting with no serious
resistance, the allies crossed the Marne at Meaux, and on the 29th
reached Bondy, within striking distance of the French capital.

In that city the people were a prey, first to sheer incredulity, then
to the wildest dismay. To them history was but a melodrama and war a
romance. Never since the time of Jeanne d'Arc had a foreign enemy come
within sight of their spires. For ramparts they had octroi walls, and
in place of the death-dealing defiance of 1792 they now showed only
the spasmodic vehemence or ironical resignation of an over-cultivated
stock. As M. Charles de Rémusat finely remarks on their varying moods,
"The despotism which makes a constant show of prosperity gives men
little fortitude to meet adversity." Doubtless the royalists, with
Talleyrand as their factotum, worked to paralyze the defence; but they
formed a small minority, and the masses would have fought for Napoleon
had he been present to direct everything. But he was far away, rushing
back through Champagne to retrieve his blunder, and in his place they
had Joseph. The ex-King of Spain was not the man for the hour. He was
no hero to breathe defiance into a bewildered crowd, nor was he well
seconded. Clarke, and Moncey, the commander of the 12,000 National
Guards, had not armed one-half of that doubtful militia. Marmont and
Mortier were at hand, and, with the garrison and National Guards,
mustered some 42,000 men.

But what were these against the trained host of more than 100,000 men
now marching against the feeble barriers on the north and east?
Moreover, Joseph and the Council of Regency had dispirited the
defenders by causing the Empress Regent and the infant King of Rome to
leave the capital along with the treasure. In Joseph's defence it
should be said that Napoleon had twice warned him to transfer the seat
of Government to the south of the Loire if the allies neared Paris,
and in no case to allow the Empress and the King of Rome to be
captured. "Do not leave the side of my son: I had rather know that he
was in the Seine than in the hands of the enemies of France." The
Emperor's views as to the effect of the capture of Paris were also
well known. In January he remarked to Mollien, the Minister of the
Treasure, "My dear fellow, if the enemy reaches the gates of Paris,
the Empire is no more."[445]

Oppressed by these gloomy omens, the defenders awaited the onset of
the allies at Montreuil, Romainville Pantin, and on the northern plain
(March 30th). At some points French valour held up successfully
against the dense masses; but in the afternoon Marmont, seeing his
thin lines overlapped, and in imminent danger of being cut off at
Belleville, sent out a request for a truce, as Joseph had empowered
him to do if affairs proved to be irretrievable. At all points
resistance was hopeless; Mortier was hard pressed on the north-east;
at the Clichy gate Moncey and his National Guards fought only for
honour; and so, after a whole day of sanguinary conflicts, the great
city surrendered on honourable terms.

And thus ended the great impulse which had gone forth from Paris since
1789, which had flooded the plains of Germany, the plateaux of Spain,
the cities of Italy, and the steppes of Russia, levelling the barriers
of castes and creeds, and binding men in a new and solid unity. The
reaction against that great centrifugal and international movement had
now become centripetal and profoundly national. Thanks to Napoleon's
statecraft, the peoples of Europe from the Volga to the Tagus were now
embattled in a mighty phalanx, and were about to enter in triumph the
city that only twenty-five years before had heralded the dawn of their
nascent liberties.

And what of Napoleon, in part the product and in part the cause, of
this strange reaction? By a strange Nemesis, his military genius and
his overweening contempt of Schwarzenberg drew him aside at the very
time when the allies could strike with deadly effect at the heart of
his centralized despotism. On the 29th he hears of disaffection at
Paris, of the disaster at La Fère Champenoise, and of the loss of
Lyons by Augereau. He at once sees the enormity of his blunder. His
weary Guards and he seek to annihilate space. They press on by the
unguarded road by way of Troyes and Fontainebleau, thereby cutting off
all chance of the Emperor Francis and Metternich sending messages from
Dijon to Paris. By incredible exertions the men cover seventeen
leagues on the 29th and reach Troyes.

Napoleon, accompanied by Caulaincourt, Drouot, Flahaut, and Lefebvre,
rushes on, wearing out horses at every stage: at Fontainebleau on the
30th he hears that his consort has left Paris; at Essonne, that the
battle is raging. Late at night, near Athis, he meets a troop of horse
under General Belliard: eagerly he questions this brave officer, and
learns that Joseph has left Paris, and that the battle is over.
"Forward then to Paris: everywhere where I am not they act
stupidly."--"But, sire," says the general, "it is too late: Paris has
capitulated."

The indomitable will is not yet broken. He must go on; he will sound
the tocsin, rouse the populace, tear up the capitulation, and beat the
insolent enemy. The sight of Mortier's troops, a little further on, at
last burns the truth into his brain: he sends on Caulaincourt with
full powers to treat for peace, and then sits up for the rest of the
night, poring over his maps and measuring the devotion of his Guard
against the inexorable bounds of time and space. He is within ten
miles of Paris, and sees the glare of the enemy's watch-fires all over
the northern sky.

On the morrow he hears that the allied sovereigns are about to enter
Paris, and Marmont warns him by letter that public opinion has much
changed since the withdrawal, first of the Empress, and then of
Joseph, Louis, and Jerome. This was true. The people were disgusted by
their flight; Blücher now had eighty cannon planted on the heights of
Montmartre; and men knew that he would not spare Paris if she hazarded
a further effort. And thus, when, on that same morning, the Czar, with
the King of Prussia on his right, and Schwarzenberg on his left, rode
into Paris at the head of the Russian and Prussian Guards, they met
with nothing worse than sullen looks on the part of the masses, while
knots of enthusiastic royalists shouted wildly for the Bourbons, and
women flung themselves to kiss the boots of the liberating Emperor.
The Bourbon party, however, was certainly in the minority; but at
places along the route their demonstrations were effective enough to
influence an impressionable populace, and to delight the
conquerors.--"The white cockade appeared very universally:"--wrote
Stewart with suspicious emphasis--"many of the National Guards, whom I
saw, wore them."[446]

Fearing that the Elysée Palace had been mined, the Czar installed
himself at Talleyrand's mansion, opposite the Place de la Concorde;
and forthwith there took place a most important private Council. The
two monarchs were present, along with Nesselrode and Napoleon's
Corsican enemy, Pozzo di Borgo. Princes Schwarzenberg and Lichtenstein
represented Austria; while Talleyrand and Dalberg were there to plead
for the House of Bourbon: De Pradt and Baron Louis were afterwards
summoned. The Czar opened the deliberations by declaring that there
were three courses open, to make peace with Napoleon, to accept Marie
Louise as Regent for her son, or to recall the Bourbons.[447] The
first he declared to be impossible; the second was beset by the
gravest difficulties; and, while stating the objections to the
Bourbons, he let it be seen that he now favoured this solution,
provided that it really was the will of France. He then called on
Talleyrand to speak; and that pleader set forth the case of the
Bourbons with his usual skill. The French army, he said, was more
devoted to its own glory than to Napoleon. France longed for peace,
and she could only find it with due sureties under her old dynasty. If
the populace had not as yet declared for the Bourbons, who could
wonder at that, when the allies persisted in negotiating with
Napoleon? But let them declare that they will no more treat with him,
and France would at once show her real desires. For himself, he would
answer for the Senate. The Czar was satisfied; Frederick William
assented; the Austrian princes said not a word on behalf of the claims
of Marie Louise; and the cause of the House of Bourbon easily
triumphed.[448]

On the morrow appeared in the "Journal des Débats" a decisive
proclamation, signed by Alexander _on behalf of all the allied
Powers;_ but we must be permitted to doubt whether the Emperor
Francis, if present, would have allowed it to appear, especially if
his daughter were present in Paris as Regent. The proclamation set
forth that the allies would never again treat with "Napoleon
Bonaparte" or any member of his family; that they would respect the
integrity of France as it existed under its lawful kings, and would
recognize and guarantee the constitution which the French nation
should adopt.

Accordingly, they invited the Senate at once to appoint a Provisional
Government. Talleyrand, as Grand Elector of the Empire, had the power
to summon that guardian of the commonwealth, whose vote would clearly
be far more expeditious than the _plébiscite_ on which Alexander had
previously set his heart. Of the 140 Senators only 64 assembled, but
over them Talleyrand's influence was supreme. He spake, and they
silently registered his suggestions. Thus it was that the august body,
taught by ten years of despotism to bend gracefully before every
breeze, fulfilled its last function in the Napoleonic _régime_ by
overthrowing the very constitution which it had been expressly charged
to uphold. The date was the 1st of April. Talleyrand, Dalberg,
Beurnonville, Jaucourt, and l'Abbé de Montesquiou at once formed a
Provisional Government; but the soul of it was Talleyrand. The Czar
gave the word, and Talleyrand acted as scene-shifter. The last tableau
of this constitutional farce was reached on the following day, when
the Senate and the Corps Législatif declared that Napoleon had ceased
to reign.

Such was the ex-bishop's revenge for insults borne for many a year
with courtly tact, but none the less bitterly felt. Napoleon and he
had come to regard each other with instinctive antipathy; but while
the diplomatist hid his hatred under the cloak of irony, the soldier
blurted forth his suspicions. Before leaving Paris, the Emperor had
wound up his last Council-meeting by a diatribe against enemies left
in the citadel; and his words became all the hotter when he saw that
Talleyrand, who was then quietly conversing with Joseph in a corner,
took no notice of the outburst. From Champagne he sent off an order to
Savary to arrest the ex-Minister, but that functionary took upon
himself to disregard the order. Probably there was some understanding
between them. And thus, after steering past many a rock, the patient
schemer at last helped Europe to shipwreck that mighty adventurer when
but a league or two from port.

But all was not over yet. Napoleon had fallen back on Fontainebleau,
in front of which town he was assembling a force of nearly 60,000 men.
Marie Louise, with the Ministers, was at Blois, and desired to make
her way to the side of her consort. Had she done so, and had her
father been present at Paris, a very interesting and delicate
situation would have been the result; and we may fancy that it would
have needed all Metternich's finesse and Castlereagh's common sense to
keep the three monarchs united. But Francis was still at Dijon; and
Metternich and Castlereagh did not reach Paris until April 10th; so
that everything in these important days was decided by the Czar and
Talleyrand, both of them irreconcilable foes of Napoleon. It was in
vain that Caulaincourt (April 1st) begged the Czar to grant peace to
Napoleon on the basis of the old frontiers. "Peace with him would only
be a truce," was the reply.

The victor did not repulse the idea of a Regency so absolutely, and
the faithful Minister at once hurried to Fontainebleau to persuade his
master to abdicate in favour of his son. Napoleon repulsed the offer
with disdain: rather than _that_, he would once more try the hazards
of war. He knew that the Old and the Young Guard, still nearly 9,000
strong in all, burned to revenge the insult to French pride; and at
the close of a review held on the 3rd in the great court of the
palace, they shouted, "To Paris!" and swore to bury themselves under
its ruins. It needed not the acclaim of his veterans to prompt him to
the like resolve. When, on April 1st, he received a Verbal Note from
Alexander, stating that the allies would no longer treat with him,
except on his private and family concerns, he exclaimed to Marmont, at
the line of the Essonne, that he must fight, for it was a necessity of
his position. He also proposed to that Marshal to cross the Seine and
attack the allies, forgetting that the Marne, with its bridges held by
them, was in the way. Marmont, endowed with a keen and sardonic
intelligence, had already seen that his master was more and more the
victim of illusions, never crediting the existence of difficulties
that he did not actually witness. And when, on the 3rd, or perhaps
earlier, offers came from the royalists, the Marshal promised to help
them in the way that will shortly appear.

Napoleon's last overtures to the Czar came late on the following day.
On that morning he had a long and heated discussion with Berthier,
Ney, Oudinot, and Lefebvre. Caulaincourt and Maret were present as
peacemakers. The Marshals upbraided Napoleon with the folly of
marching on Paris. Angered by their words Napoleon at last said: "The
army will obey me." "No," retorted Ney, "it will obey its commanders."

Macdonald, who had just arrived with his weary corps, took up their
case with his usual frankness. "Our horses," he said, "can go no
further: we have not enough ammunition for one skirmish, and no means
of procuring more. If we fail, as we probably shall, the whole of
France will be destroyed. We can still impose on the enemy: let us
retain our attitude.... We have had enough of war without kindling
civil war." Finally the Emperor gave way, and drew up a declaration
couched in these terms: "The allied Powers having proclaimed that the
Emperor Napoleon was the sole obstacle to the re-establishment of
peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oaths, declares
that he is ready to descend from the throne, to leave France, and even
give up his life, for the good of the fatherland, inseparable from the
rights of his son, of those of the regency of the Empress and of the
maintenance of the laws of the Empire."[449]

A careful reading of this document will show that it was not an act of
abdication, but merely a conditional offer to abdicate, which would
satisfy those undiplomatic soldiers and gain time. Macdonald also
relates that, after drawing it up, the Emperor threw himself on the
sofa, struck his thigh, and said: "Nonsense, gentlemen! let us leave
all that alone and march to-morrow, we shall beat them." But they held
him to his promise; and Caulaincourt, Ney, and Macdonald straightway
proceeding to Paris, beset the Czar with many entreaties and some
threats to recognize the Regency.

In their interview, late at night on the 4th, they seemed to make a
great impression, especially when they reminded him of his promise not
to force any government on France. Next, the Czar called in the
members of the Provisional Government, and heard their arguments that
a Regency must speedily give way before the impact of the one
masterful will. Yet again Alexander listened to the eloquence of
Caulaincourt, and finally to the pleadings of the now anxious
provisionals. So the night wore on at Talleyrand's mansion, the Czar
finally stating that, after hearing the Prussian monarch's advice, he
would give his decision. And shortly before dawn came the news that
Marmont's corps had marched over to the enemy. "You see," said
Alexander to Pozzo di Borgo, "it is Providence that wills it: no more
doubt or hesitation now."[450]

On that same night, in fact, Marmont's corps of 12,000 men was brought
from Essonne within the lines of the allies, by the Marshal's
generals. Marmont himself was then in Paris, having been induced by
Ney and Macdonald to come with them, so as to hinder the carrying out
of his treasonable design; but his generals, who were in the secret,
were alarmed by the frequency of Napoleon's couriers, and carried out
the original plan. Thus, at dawn of the 5th, the rank and file found
themselves amidst the columns and squadrons of the allies. It was now
too late to escape; the men swore at their leaders with helpless fury;
and 12,000 men were thus filched from Napoleon's array.[451]

If this conduct be viewed from the personal standpoint, it must be
judged a base betrayal of an old friend and benefactor; and it is
usually regarded in that light alone. And yet Marmont might plead that
his action was necessary to prevent Napoleon sacrificing his troops,
and perhaps also his capital, to a morbid pride and desire for
revenge. The Marshal owed something to France. The Chambers had
pronounced his master's abdication, and Paris seemed to acquiesce in
their decision: Bordeaux and Lyons had now definitely hoisted the
white flag: Wellington had triumphed in the south; Schwarzenberg
marshalled 140,000 men around the capital; and Marmont knew, perhaps,
better than any of the Marshals, the obstinacy of that terrible will
which had strewn the roads between Moscow, Paris, and Lisbon with a
million of corpses. Was it not time that this should end? And would it
end as long as Napoleon saw any chance of snatching a temporary
success?

However we may regard Marmont's conduct, there can be no doubt that it
helped on Napoleon's fall. The Czar was too subtle a diplomatist to
attach much importance to Napoleon's declaration cited above. He must
have seen in it a device to gain time. But he himself also wished for
a few more hours' respite before flinging away the scabbard; and we
may regard his lengthy balancings between the pleas of Caulaincourt
and Talleyrand as prompted partly by a wish to sip to the full the
sweets of revenge for the occupation of Moscow, but mainly by the
resolve to mark time until Marmont's corps had been brought over.

Now that the head was struck off Napoleon's lance, the Czar repulsed
all notion of a Regency, but declared that he was ready to grant
generous terms to Napoleon if the latter abdicated outright. "Now,
when he is in trouble," he said, "I will become once more his friend
and will forget the past." In conferences with Napoleon's
representatives, Alexander decided that Napoleon must keep the title
of Emperor, and receive a suitable pension. The islands of Corfu,
Corsica, and Elba were considered for his future abode: the last
offered the fewest objections; and though Metternich later on
protested against the choice of Elba, the Czar felt his honour pledged
to this arrangement.[452]

Napoleon himself now began to yield to the inevitable. On hearing the
news of Marmont's defection, he sat for some time as if stupefied,
then sadly remarked: "The ungrateful man: well! he will be more
unhappy than I." But once more, on the 6th, the fighting instinct
comes uppermost. He plans to retire with his faithful troops beyond
the Loire, and rally the corps of Augereau, Suchet, and Soult. "Come,"
he cries to his generals, "let us march to the Alps." Not one of them
speaks in reply. "Ah," replies the Emperor to their unspoken thoughts;
"you want repose: have it then. Alas! you know not how many
disappointments and dangers await you on your beds of down." He then
wrote his formal abdication:

    "The allied Powers having declared that the Emperor was the sole
    obstacle to the re-establishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor,
    faithful to his oaths, declares that he renounces, for himself and
    his heirs, the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no
    sacrifice, not even that of life, which he is not ready to make
    for the interest of France."

The allies made haste to finish the affair; for even now they feared
that the caged lion would burst his bars. Indeed, the trusty secretary
Fain asserts that when on Easter Monday, the 11th, Caulaincourt
brought back the allies' ratification of this deed, Napoleon's first
demand was to retract the abdication. It would be unjust, however, to
lay too much stress on this strange conduct; for at that time the
Emperor's mind was partly unhinged by maddening tumults.

His anguish increased when he heard the final terms of the allies.
They allotted to him the isle of Elba; to his consort and heir, the
duchies of Parma, Placentia and Guastalla, and two millions of francs
as an annual subsidy, divided equally between himself and her. They
were to keep the title of Emperor and Empress; but their son would
bear the name of Duke of Parma, etc. The other Bonapartes received an
annual subsidy of 2,500,000 francs, this and the former sum being paid
by France. Four hundred soldiers might accompany him to Elba. A
"suitable establishment" was to be provided for Eugène outside of
France.[453] For some hours Napoleon refused to ratify this compact.
All hope of resistance was vain, for Oudinot, Victor, Lefebvre, and,
finally, Ney and Berthier, had gone over to the royalists: even the
soldiery began to waver. But a noble pride held back the mighty
conqueror from accepting Elba and signing a money compact. It is not
without a struggle that a Cæsar sinks to the level of a Sancho Panza.

He then talked to Caulaincourt with the insight that always illumined
his judgments. Marie Louise ought to have Tuscany, he said: Parma
would not befit her dignity. Besides, if she had to traverse other
States to come to him, would she ever do so? He next talked of his
Marshals. Masséna's were the greatest exploits: but Suchet had shown
himself the wisest both in war and administration. Soult was able, but
too ambitious. Berthier was honest, sensible, the model of a chief of
the staff; and "yet he has now caused me much pain." Not a word
escaped him about Davoust, still manfully struggling at Hamburg. Not
one of his Ministers, he complained, had come from Blois to bid him
farewell. He then spoke of his greatest enemy--England. "She has done
me much harm, doubtless, but I have left in her flanks a poisoned
dart. It is I who have made this debt, that will ever burden, if not
crush, future generations." Finally, he came back to the hateful
compact which Caulaincourt pressed him in vain to sign. How could he
take money from the allies. How could he leave France so small, after
receiving her so great!

That same night he sought to end his life. On February the 8th he had
warned his brother Joseph that he would do so if Paris were captured.
During the retreat from Moscow he had carried about a phial which was
said to contain opium, and he now sought to end his miseries. But
Caulaincourt, his valet Constant, and the surgeon Ivan were soon at
hand with such slight cures as were possible. After violent sickness
the Emperor sank into deep prostration; but, when refreshed by tea,
and by the cool air of dawning day, he gradually revived. "Fate has
decided," he exclaimed: "I must live and await all that Providence has
in store for me."[454] He then signed the treaty with the allies,
presented Macdonald with the sword of Murad Bey, and calmly began to
prepare for his departure.

Marie Louise did not come to see him. Her decision to do so was
overruled by her father, in obedience to whose behests she repaired
from Blois to Rambouillet.

There, guarded by Cossacks, she saw Francis, Alexander, and Frederick
William in turn. What passed between them is not known: but the result
was that, on April 23rd, she set out for Vienna, whence she finally
repaired to Parma; she manifested no great desire to see her consort
at Elba, but soon consoled herself with the Count de Neipperg.

No doubts as to her future conduct, no qualms of conscience as to the
destiny of France now ruffled Napoleon's mind. Like a sky cleared by a
thunderstorm, once more it shone forth with clear radiance. Those who
saw him now were astonished at his calmness, except in some moments
when he declaimed at his wife and child being kept from him by
Austrian schemes. Then he stormed and wept and declared that he would
seek refuge in England, which General Köller, the Austrian
commissioner appointed to escort him to Elba, strongly advised him to
do. But for the most part he showed remarkable composure. When Bausset
sought to soothe him by remarking that France would still form one of
the finest of realms, he replied: "_with remarkable serenity_--'I
abdicate and I yield nothing.'"[455] The words hide a world of
meaning: they inclose the secret of the Hundred Days.

On the 20th, he bade farewell to his Guard: in thrilling words he told
them that his mission thenceforth would be to describe to posterity
the wonders they had achieved: he then embraced General Petit, kissed
the war-stained banner, and, wafted on his way by the sobs of these
unconquered heroes, set forth for the Mediterranean. In the central
districts, and as far as Lyons, he was often greeted by the well-known
shouts, but, further south, the temper of the people changed.

At Orange they cursed him to his face, and hurled stones at the
windows of the carriage; Napoleon, protected by Bertrand, sat huddled
up in the corner, "apparently very much frightened." After forcing a
way through the rabble, the Emperor, when at a safe distance, donned a
plain great coat, a Russian cloak, and a plain round hat with a white
cockade: in this or similar disguises he sought to escape notice at
every village or town, evincing, says the British Commissioner,
Colonel Campbell, "much anxiety to save his life."

By a détour he skirted the town of Avignon, where the mob thirsted for
his blood; and by another device he disappointed the people of Orgon,
who had prepared an effigy of him in uniform, smeared with blood, and
placarded with the words: "Voilà donc l'odieux tyran! Tôt ou tard le
crime est puni."[456] In this humiliating way he hurried on towards
the coast, where a British frigate, the "Undaunted," was waiting for
him. There some suspicious delays ensued, which aroused the fears of
the allied commissioners, especially as bands of French soldiers began
to draw near after the break-up of Eugène's army.[457]

At last, on the 28th, accompanied by Counts Bertrand and Drouot, he
set sail from Fréjus. It was less than fifteen years since he had
landed there crowned with the halo of his oriental adventures.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXVIII

ELBA AND PARIS


If it be an advantage to pause in the midst of the rush of life and
take one's bearings afresh, then Napoleon was fortunate in being
drifted to the quiet eddy of Elba. He there had leisure to review his
career, to note where he had served his generation and succeeded,
where also he had dashed himself fruitlessly against the fundamental
instincts of mankind. Undoubtedly he did essay this mental
stock-taking. He remarked to the conscientious Drouot that he was
wrong in not making peace at the Congress of Prague; that trust in his
own genius and in his soldiery led him astray; "but those who blame me
have never drunk of Fortune's intoxicating cup." When a turn of her
wheel brought him uppermost again, he confessed that at Elba he had
heard, as in a tomb, the verdict of posterity; and there are signs
that his maturer convictions thenceforth strove to curb the old
domineering instincts that had wrecked his life.

Introspection, however, was alien to his being; he was made for the
camp rather than the study; his critical powers, if turned in for a
time on himself, quickly swung back to work upon men and affairs; and
they found the needed exercise in organizing his Liliputian Empire and
surveying the course of European politics. In the first weeks he was
up at dawn, walking or riding about Porto Ferrajo and its environs,
planning better defences, or tracing out new roads and avenues of
mulberry trees. "I have never seen a man," wrote Campbell, "with so
much activity and restless perseverance: he appears to take pleasure
in perpetual movement, and in seeing those who accompany him sink
under fatigue." About seven hundred of his Guards were brought over on
British transports; and these, along with Corsicans and Tuscans,
guarded him against royalist plotters, real or supposed. In a short
time he purchased a few small vessels, and annexed the islet of
Pianosa. These affairs and the formation of an Imperial Court for the
delectation of his mother and his sister Pauline, who now joined him,
served to drive away ennui; but he bitterly resented the Emperor
Francis's refusal to let his wife and son come to him. Whether Marie
Louise would have come is more than doubtful, for her relations to
Count Neipperg were already notorious; but the detention of his son
was a heartless action that aroused general sympathy for the lonely
man. The Countess Walewska paid him a visit for some days, bringing
the son whom she had borne him.[458]

Meanwhile Europe was settling down uneasily on its new political
foundations. Considering that France had been at the mercy of the
allies, she had few just grounds of complaint against them. The
Treaties of Paris (May 30th, 1814) left her with rather wider bounds
than those of 1791; and she kept the art treasures reft by Napoleon.
Perfidious Albion yielded up all her French colonial conquests, except
Mauritius, Tobago, and St. Lucia. Britons grumbled at the paltry gains
brought by a war that had cost more than £600,000,000: but Castlereagh
justified the policy of conciliation. "It is better," said he, "for
France to be commercial and pacific than a warlike and conquering
State." We insisted on her ceding Belgium to the House of Orange,
while we retained the Dutch colonies conquered by us, the Cape,
Demerara, and Curaçoa--paying £6,000,000 for them.

The loss of the Netherlands, the Rhineland, and Italy galled French
pride. Loud were the murmurs of the throngs of soldiers that came from
the fortresses of Germany, or the prisons of Spain, Russia, and
England--70,000 crossed over from our shores alone--at the harshness
of the allies and the pusillanimity of the Bourbons. The return from
war to peace is always hard; and now these gaunt warriors came back to
a little France that perforce discharged them or placed them on
half-pay. Perhaps they might have been won over by a tactful Court:
but the Bourbons, especially that typical _émigré_, the Comte
d'Artois, were nothing if not tactless, witness their shelving of the
Old Guard and formation of the Maison du Roi, a privileged and highly
paid corps of 6,000 nobles and royalist gentlemen. The peasants, too,
were uneasy, especially those who held the lands of nobles confiscated
in the Revolution. To indemnify the former owners was impossible in
face of the torrent of exorbitant claims that flowed in. And the year
1814, which began as a soul-stirring epic, ended with sordid squabbles
worthy of a third-rate farce.

Moreover, at this very time, the former allies seemed on the brink of
war. The limits of our space admit only of the briefest glance at the
disputes of the Powers at the Congress of Vienna. The storm centre of
Europe was the figure of the Czar. To our ambassador at Vienna, Sir
Charles Stewart, he declared his resolve to keep western Poland and
never to give up 7,000,000 of his "Polish subjects."[459] Strange to
say, he ultimately gained the assent of Prussia to this objectionable
scheme, provided that she acquired the whole of Saxony, while
Frederick Augustus was to be transplanted to the Rhineland with Bonn
as capital. To these proposals Austria, England, and France offered
stern opposition, and framed a secret compact (January 3rd, 1815) to
resist them, if need be, with armies amounting to 450,000 men. But,
though swords were rattled in their scabbards, they were not drawn.
When news reached Vienna of the activity of Bonapartists in France and
of Murat in Italy, the Powers agreed (February 8th) to the
Saxon-Polish compromise which took shape in the map of Eastern Europe.
The territorial arrangements in the west were evidently inspired by
the wish to build up bulwarks against France. Belgium was tacked on to
Holland; Germany was huddled into a Confederation, in which the
princes had complete sovereign powers; and the Kingdom of Sardinia
grew to more than its former bulk by recovering Savoy and Nice and
gaining Genoa.

This piling up of artificial barriers against some future Napoleon was
to serve the designs of the illustrious exile himself. The instinct of
nationality, which his blows had aroused to full vigour, was now
outraged by the sovereigns whom it carried along to victory. Belgians
strongly objected to Dutch rule, and German "Unitarians," as
Metternich dubbed them, spurned a form of union which subjected the
Fatherland to Austria and her henchmen. Hardest of all was the fate of
Italy. After learning the secret of her essential unity under
Napoleon, she was now parcelled out among her former rulers; and
thrills of rage shot through the peninsula when the Hapsburgs settled
down at Venice and Milan, while their scions took up the reins at
Modena, Parma, and Florence.

It was on this popular indignation that Murat now built his hopes.
After throwing over Napoleon, he had looked to find favour with the
allies; but his movements in 1814 had been so suspicious that the fate
of his kingdom remained hanging in the balance. The Bourbons of Paris
and Madrid strove hard to effect his overthrow; but Austria and
England, having tied their hands early in 1814 by treaties with him,
could only wait and watch in the hope that the impetuous soldier would
take a false step. He did so in February, 1815, when he levied forces,
summoned Louis XVIII. to declare whether he was at war with him, and
prepared to march into Northern Italy.

The disturbed state of the peninsula caused the Powers much uneasiness
as to the presence of Napoleon at Elba. Louis XVIII. in his
despatches, and Talleyrand in private conversations, two or three
times urged his removal to the Azores; but, with the exception of
Castlereagh, who gave a doubtful assent, the plenipotentiaries scouted
the thought of it. Metternich entirely opposed it, and the Czar would
certainly have objected to the reversal of his Elba plan, had
Talleyrand made a formal proposal to that effect. But he did not do
so. The official records of the Congress contain not a word on the
subject. Equally unfounded were the newspaper rumours that the
Congress was considering the advisability of removing Napoleon to St.
Helena. On this topic the official records are also silent; and we
have the explicit denial of the Duke of Wellington (who reached Vienna
on the 1st of February to relieve Castlereagh) that "the Congress ever
had any intention of removing Bonaparte from Elba to St. Helena."[460]

Napoleon's position was certainly one of unstable equilibrium, that
tended towards some daring enterprise or inglorious bankruptcy. The
maintenance of his troops cost him more than 1,000,000 francs a year,
while his revenue was less than half of that sum. He ought to have
received 2,000,000 francs a year from Louis XVIII.; but that monarch,
while confiscating the property of the Bonapartes in France, paid not
a centime of the sums which the allies had pledged him to pay to the
fallen House. Both the Czar and our envoy, Castlereagh, warmly
reproached Talleyrand with his master's shabby conduct; to which the
plenipotentiary replied that it was dangerous to furnish Napoleon with
money as long as Italy was in so disturbed a state. Castlereagh, on
his return to England by way of Paris, again pressed the matter on
Louis XVIII., who promised to take the matter in hand. But he was soon
quit of it: for, as he wrote to Talleyrand on March 7th, Bonaparte's
landing in France _spared him the trouble_.[461]

To assert, however, that Napoleon's escape from Elba was prompted by a
desire to avoid bankruptcy, is to credit him with respectable
_bourgeois_ scruples by which he was never troubled. Though "Madame
Mère" and Pauline complained bitterly to Campbell of the lack of funds
at Elba, the Emperor himself was far from depressed. "His spirits seem
of late," wrote Campbell on December 28th, "rather to rise, and not to
yield in the smallest degree to the pressure of pecuniary
difficulties." Both Campbell and Lord John Russell, who then paid the
Emperor a flying visit, thought that he was planning some great move,
and warned our Ministers.[462] But they shared the view of other
wiseacres, that Italy would be his goal, and that too, when Campbell's
despatches teemed with remarks made to him by Napoleon as to the
certainty of an outbreak in France. Here are two of them:

    He said that there would be a violent outbreak, similar to the
    Revolution, in consequence of their present humiliation: every man
    in France considers the Rhine to be the natural frontier of
    France, and nothing can alter this opinion. If the spirit of the
    nation is roused into action nothing can oppose it. It is like a
    torrent.... The present Government of France is too feeble: the
    Bourbons should make war as soon as possible so as to establish
    themselves upon the throne. It would not be difficult to recover
    Belgium. It is only for the British troops there that the French
    army has the smallest awe" (_sic_).

His final resolve to put everything to the hazard was formed about
February 13th, when, shortly after receiving tidings as to the unrest
in Italy, the discords of the Powers, and the resolve of the allied
sovereigns to leave Vienna on the 20th, he heard news of the highest
importance from France. On that day one of his former officials,
Fleury de Chaboulon, landed in Elba, and informed him of the hatching
of a plot by military malcontents, under the lead of Fouché, for the
overthrow of Louis XVIII.[463] Napoleon at once despatched his
informant to Naples, and ordered his brig, "L'Inconstant," to be
painted like an English vessel. Most fortunately for him, Campbell on
the 16th set sail for Tuscany--"for his health and on private
affairs"--on the small war-vessel, "Partridge," to which the British
Government had intrusted the supervision of Napoleon. Captain Adye, of
that vessel, promised, after taking Campbell to Leghorn, to return and
cruise off Elba. He called at Porto Ferrajo on the 24th, and to
Bertrand's question, when he was to bring Campbell back, returned the
undiplomatic answer that it was fixed for the 26th. The news seems to
have decided Napoleon to escape on that day, when the "Partridge"
would be absent at Leghorn. Meanwhile Campbell, alarmed by the news of
the preparations at Elba, was sending off a request to Genoa that
another British warship should be sent to frustrate the designs of the
"restless villain."

But it was now too late. On that Sunday night at 9 p.m., the Emperor,
with 1,050 officers and men, embarked at Porto Ferrajo on the
"Inconstant" and six smaller craft. Favoured by the light airs that
detained the British vessel, his flotilla glided away northwards; and
not before the 28th did Adye and Campbell find that the imperial eagle
had flown. Meanwhile Napoleon had eluded the French guard-ship,
"Fleur-de-Lys," and ordered his vessels to scatter. On doubling the
north of Corsica, he fell in with another French cruiser, the
"Zephyr," which hailed his brig and inquired how the great man was.
"Marvellously well," came the reply, suggested by Napoleon himself to
his captain. The royalist cruiser passed on contented. And thus,
thanks to the imbecility of the old Governments and of their servants,
Napoleon was able to land his little force safely in the Golfe de
Jouan on the afternoon of March 1st.[464] Is it surprising that
foreigners, who had not yet fathomed the eccentricities of British
officialdom, should have believed that we connived at Napoleon's
escape? It needed the blood shed at Waterloo to wipe out the
misconception.

"I shall reach Paris without firing a shot." Such was the prophecy of
Napoleon to his rather questioning followers as they neared the coast
of Provence. It seemed the wildest of dreams. Could the man, who had
been wellnigh murdered by the rabble of Avignon and Orgon, hope to
march in peace through that royalist province? And, if he ever reached
the central districts where men loved him better, would the soldiery
dare to disobey the commands of Soult, the new Minister of War, of
Ney, Berthier, Macdonald, St. Cyr, Suchet, Augereau, and of many more
who were now honestly serving the Bourbons? The King and his brothers
had no fears. They laughed at the folly of this rash intruder.

At first their confidence seemed justified. Napoleon's overtures to
the officer and garrison of Antibes were repulsed, and the small
detachment which he sent there was captured. Undaunted by this check,
he decided to hurry on by way of Grasse towards Grenoble, thus
forestalling the news of his first failure, and avoiding the royalist
districts of the lower Rhone.

Napoleon was visibly perturbed as he drew near to Grenoble. There the
officer in command, General Marchand, had threatened to exterminate
this "band of brigands"; and his soldiers as yet showed no signs of
defection. But, by some bad management, only one battalion held the
defile of Laffray on the south. As the bear-skins of the Guard came in
sight, the royalist ranks swerved and drew back. Then the Emperor came
forward, and ordered his men to lower their arms. "There he is: fire
on him," cried a royalist officer. Not a shot rang out.--"Soldiers,"
said the well-known voice, "if there is one among you who wishes to
kill his Emperor, he can do so. Here I am." At once a great shout of
"Vive l'Empereur" burst forth: and the battalion broke into an
enthusiastic rush towards the idol of the soldiery.

That scene decided the whole course of events. A little later, a young
noble, Labédoyère, leads over his regiment; at Grenoble the garrison
stands looking on and cheering while the Bonapartists batter in the
gates; and the hero is borne in amidst a whirlwind of cheers. At
Lyons, the Comte d'Artois and Macdonald seek safety in flight; and
soldiers and workmen welcome their chief with wild acclaim; but amidst
the wonted cries are heard threats of "The Bourbons to the
guillotine," "Down with the priests!"

The shouts were ominous: they showed that the Jacobins meant to use
Napoleon merely as a tool for the overthrow of the Bourbons. The
"have-nots" cheered him, but the "haves" shivered at his coming, for
every thinking man knew that it implied war with Europe.[465] Napoleon
saw the danger of relying merely on malcontents and sought to arouse a
truly national feeling. He therefore on March 13th issued a series of
popular decrees, that declared the rule of the Bourbons at an end,
dissolved the Senate and Chamber of Deputies, and summoned the
"electoral colleges" of the Empire to a great assembly, or Champ de
Mai, at Paris. He further proscribed the white flag, ordered the
wearing of the tri-colour cockade, disbanded the hated "Maison du
Roi," abolished feudal titles, and sequestered the domains of the
Bourbon princes. In brief, he acted as the Bonaparte of 1799. He then
set forth for Paris, at the head of 14,000 men.

Ney was at the same time marching with 6,000 men from Besançon. He had
lately assured Louis XVIII. that Napoleon deserved to be brought to
Paris in an iron cage. But now his soldiers kept a sullen silence. At
Bourg the leading regiment deserted; and while beset by difficulties,
the Marshal received from Napoleon the assurance that he would be
received as he was on the day after the Moskwa (Borodino). This was
enough. He drew his troops around him, and, to their lively joy,
declared for the Emperor (March 14th). Napoleon was as good as his
word. Never prone to petty malice, he now received with equal
graciousness those officers who flung themselves at his feet, and
those who staunchly served the King to the very last. Before this
sunny magnanimity the last hopes of the Bourbons melted away. Greeted
on all sides by soldiers and peasants, the enchanter advances on
Paris, whence the King and Court beat a hasty retreat towards Lille.

Crowds of peasants line and almost block the road from Fontainebleau
to catch a glimpse of the gray coat; and, to expedite matters, he
drives on in a cabriolet with his faithful Caulaincourt. Escorted by a
cavalcade of officers he enters Paris after nightfall; but there the
tone of the public is cool and questioning, until the front of the
Tuileries facing the river is reached.[466] Then a mighty shout arises
from the throng of jubilant half-pay officers as the well-known figure
alights: he passes in, and is half carried up the grand staircase,
"his eyes half closed," says Lavalette, "his hands extended before him
like a blind man, and expressing his joy only by a smile." Ladies are
there also, who have spent the weary hours of waiting in stripping off
_fleurs-de-lys_, and gleefully exposing the N's and golden bees
concealed by cheap Bourbon upholstery. Anon they fly back to this
task; the palace wears its wonted look; and the brief spell of Bourbon
rule seems gone for ever.

To his contemporaries this triumph of Napoleon appeared a miracle
before which the voice of criticism must be dumb. And yet, if we
remember the hollowness of the Bourbon restoration, the tactlessness
of the princes and the greed of their partisans, it seems strange that
the house of cards reared by the Czar and Talleyrand remained standing
even for eleven months. Napoleon correctly described the condition of
France when he said to his comrades on the "Inconstant": "There is no
historic example that induces me to venture on this bold enterprise:
but I have taken into account the surprise that will seize on men, the
state of public feeling, the resentment against the allies, the love
of my soldiers, in fine, all the Napoleonic elements that still
germinate in our beautiful France."[467]

Still less was he deceived by the seemingly overwhelming impulse in
his favour. He looked beyond the hysteria of welcome to the cold and
critical fit which follows; and he saw danger ahead. When Mollien
complimented him on his return, he replied, alluding to the general
indifference at the departure of the Bourbons: "My dear fellow! People
have let me come, just as they let the others go." The remark reveals
keen insight into the workings of French public opinion. The whole
course of the Revolution had shown how easy it was to destroy a
Government, how difficult to rebuild. In truth, the events of March,
1815, may be called the epilogue of the revolutionary drama. The royal
House had offended the two most powerful of French interests, the
military and the agrarian, so that soldiers and peasants clutched
eagerly at Napoleon as a mighty lever for its overthrow.

The Emperor wisely formed his Ministry before the first enthusiasm
cooled down. Maret again became Secretary of State; Decrès took the
Navy; Gaudin the finances; Mollien was coaxed back to the Treasury,
and Davoust reluctantly accepted the Ministry of War. Savary declined
to be burdened with the Police, and Napoleon did not press him: for
that clever intriguer, Fouché, was pointed out as the only man who
could rally the Jacobins around the imperial throne: to him, then,
Napoleon assigned this important post, though fully aware that in his
hands it was a two-edged tool. Carnot was finally persuaded to become
Minister for Home Affairs.

Napoleon's fate, however, was to be decided, not at Paris, but by the
statesmen assembled at Vienna. There time was hanging somewhat
heavily, and the news of Napoleon's escape was welcomed at first as a
grateful diversion. Talleyrand asserted that Napoleon would aim at
Italy, but Metternich at once remarked: "He will make straight for
Paris." When this prophecy proved to be alarmingly true, a drastic
method was adopted to save the Bourbons. The plenipotentiaries drew up
a declaration that Bonaparte, having broken the compact which
established him at Elba--the only legal title attaching to his
existence--had placed himself outside the bounds of civil and social
relations, and, as an enemy and disturber of the peace of the world,
was consigned to "public prosecution" (March 13th).[468] The rigour of
this decree has been generally condemned. But, after all, it did not
exceed in harshness Napoleon's own act of proscription against Stein;
it was a desperate attempt to stop the flight of the imperial eagle to
Paris and to save France from war with Europe.

Public considerations were doubtless commingled with the promptings of
personal hatred. We are assured that Talleyrand was the author of this
declaration, which had the complete approval of the Czar. But Napoleon
had one enemy more powerful than Alexander, more insidious than
Talleyrand, and that was--his own past. Everywhere the spectre of war
rose up before the imagination of men. The merchant pictured his ships
swept off by privateers: the peasant saw his homestead desolate: the
housewife dreamt of her larder emptied by taxes, and sons carried off
for the war. At Berlin, wrote Jackson, all was agitation, and
everybody said that _the work of last year would have to be done over
again_.

In England the current of public feeling was somewhat weakened by the
drifts and eddies of party politics. Many of the Whigs made a popular
hero of Napoleon, some from a desire to overthrow the Liverpool
Ministry that proscribed him; others because they believed, or tried
to believe, that the return of Napoleon concerned only France, and
that he would leave Europe alone if Europe left him alone. Others
there were again, as Hazlitt, who could not ignore the patent fact
that Napoleon was an international personage and had violated a
European compact, yet nevertheless longed for his triumph over the bad
old Governments and did not trouble much as to what would come next.
But, on the whole, the judgment of well-informed people may be summed
up in the conclusion of that keen lawyer, Crabb Robinson: "The
question is, peace with Bonaparte now, or war with him in Germany two
years hence."[469] The matter came to a test on April 28th, when
Whitbread's motion against war was rejected by 273 to 72.[470]

If that was the general opinion in days when Ministers and
diplomatists alone knew the secrets of the game, it was certain that
the initiated, who remembered his wrongheaded refusals to make peace
even in the depressing days of 1814, would strive to crush him before
he could gather all his strength. In vain did he protest that he had
learnt by sad experience and was a changed man. They interpreted his
pacific speeches by their experience of his actions; and thus his
overweening conduct in the past blotted out all hope of his crowning a
romantic career by a peaceful and benignant close. The declaration of
outlawry was followed, on March 25th, by the conclusion of treaties
between the Powers, which virtually renewed those framed at Chaumont.
In quick succession the smaller States gave in their adhesion; and
thus the coalition which tact and diplomacy had dissolved was
revivified by the fears which the mighty warrior aroused. Napoleon
made several efforts to sow distrust among the Powers; and chance
placed in his hands a veritable apple of discord.

The Bourbons in their hasty flight from Paris had left behind several
State papers, among them being the recent secret compact against
Russia and Prussia. Napoleon promptly sent this document to the Czar
at Vienna; but his hopes of sundering the allies were soon blighted.
Though Alexander and Metternich had for months refused to exchange a
word or a look, yet the news of Napoleon's adventure brought about a
speedy reconciliation; and when the compromising paper from Paris was
placed in the Czar's hands, he took the noble revenge of sending for
Metternich, casting it into the fire, and adjuring the Minister to
forget recent disputes in the presence of their common enemy. Napoleon
strove to detach Austria from the Coalition, as did also Fouché on his
own account; but the overtures led to no noteworthy result, except
that Napoleon, on finding out Fouché's intrigue, threatened to have
him shot--a threat which that necessary tool treated with quiet
derision.

A few acts of war occurred at once; but Austria and Russia pressed for
delay, the latter with the view of overthrowing Murat. That potentate
now drew the sword on behalf of Napoleon, and summoned the Italians to
struggle for their independence. But he was quickly overpowered at
Tolentino (May 3rd), and fled from his kingdom, disguised as a sailor,
to Toulon. There he offered his sword to Napoleon; but the Emperor
refused his offer and blamed him severely, alleging that he had
compromised the fortunes of France by rendering peace impossible. The
charge must be pronounced not proven. The allies had taken their
resolve to destroy Napoleon on March 13th, and Murat's adventure
merely postponed the final struggle for a month or so.

Napoleon used this time of respite to form his army and stamp out
opposition in France. The French royalist bands gave him little
trouble. In the south-west the _fleur-de-lys_ was speedily beaten
down; but in La Vendée royalism had its roots deep-seated. Headed by
the two Larochejacqueleins, the peasants made a brave fight; and
20,000 regulars failed to break them up until the month of June was
wearing on. What might not those 20,000 men, detained in La Vendée,
have effected on the crest of Waterloo?

Napoleon's preoccupation, however, was the conduct of the Jacobins in
France, who had been quickened to immense energy by the absurdities of
the royalist reaction and felt that they had the new ruler in their
power. A game of skill ensued, which took up the greater part of the
"Hundred Days" of Napoleon's second reign. His conduct proved that he
was not sure of success. He felt out of touch with this new
liberty-loving France, so different from the passively devoted people
whom he had left in 1814; he bridled his impetuous nature, reasoning
with men, inviting criticism, and suggesting doubts as to his own
proposals, in a way that contrasted curiously with the old
sledge-hammer methods.

    "He seemed," writes Mollien, "habitually calm, pensive, and
    preserved without affectation a serious dignity, with little of
    that old audacity and self-confidence which had never met with
    insuperable obstacles.... As his thoughts were cramped in a narrow
    space girt with precipices instead of soaring freely over a vast
    horizon of power, they became laborious and

This Pegasus in harness chafed at the unwonted yoke; and at times the
old instincts showed themselves. On one occasion, when the subject
turned on the new passion for liberty, he said to Lavalette with a
question in his voice: "All this will last two or three years?" "Your
Majesty," replied the Minister, "must not believe that. It will last
for ever."

The first grave difficulty was to frame a constitution, especially as
his Lyons decrees led men to believe that it would emanate from the
people, and be sanctioned by them in a great _Champ de Mai_. Perhaps
this was impossible. A great part of France was a prey to civil
strifes; and it was a skilful device to intrust the drafting of a
constitution to Benjamin Constant.

This brilliant writer and talker had now run through the whole gamut
of political professions. A pronounced Jacobin and free-thinker during
the Consulate, he subsequently retired to Germany, where he unlearnt
his politics, his religion, and his philosophy. The sight of
Napoleon's devastations made him a supporter of the throne and altar,
compelled him to recast his treatises, and drove him to consort with
the quaint circle of pietists who prayed and grovelled with Madame de
Krudener. Returning to France at the Restoration, he wielded his
facile pen in the cause of the monarchy, and fluttered after the
fading charms of Madame Récamier, confiding to his friend, De Broglie,
that he knew not whether to trust most to divine or satanic agencies
for success in this lawless chase. In March, 1815, he thundered in the
Press against the brigand of Elba--until the latter won him over in
the space of a brief interview, and persuaded him to draft, with a few
colleagues, the final constitution of the age.

Not that Constant had a free hand: he worked under imperial
inspiration. The present effort was named the Additional
Act--additional, that is, to the Constitutions of the Empire (April
22nd, 1815). It established a Chamber of Peers nominated by Napoleon,
with hereditary rights, and a Chamber of Representatives elected on
the plan devised in August, 1802. The Emperor was to nominate all the
judges, including the _juges de paix;_ the jury system was maintained,
and liberty of the Press was granted. The Chambers also gained
somewhat wider control over the Ministers.[471]

This Act called forth a hail of criticisms. When the Council of State
pointed out that there was no guarantee against confiscations,
Napoleon's eyes flashed fire, and he burst forth:

    "You are pushing me in a way that is not mine. You are weakening
    and chaining me. France looks for me and does not find me. Public
    opinion was excellent: now it is execrable. France is asking what
    has come to the Emperor's arm, this arm which she needs to master
    Europe. Why speak to me of goodness, abstract justice, and of
    natural laws? The first law is necessity: the first justice is the
    public safety."

The councillors quailed under this tirade and conceded the
point--though we may here remark that Napoleon showed a wise clemency
towards his foes, and confiscated the estates of only thirteen of
them.

Public opinion became more and more "execrable." Some historians have
asserted that the decline of Napoleon's popularity was due, not to the
Additional Act, but to the menaces of war from a united Europe: this
may be doubted. Miot de Melito, who was working for the Emperor in the
West, states that "never had a political error more immediate effects"
than that Act; and Lavalette, always a devoted adherent, asserts
that Frenchmen thenceforth "saw only a despot in the Emperor and forgot
about the enemy."

As a display of military enthusiasm, the _Champ de Mai_, of June 1st,
recalled the palmy days gone by. Veterans and conscripts hailed their
chief with jubilant acclaim, as with a few burning words he handed
them their eagles. But the people on the outskirts cheered only when
the troops cheered. Why should they, or the "electors" of France,
cheer? They had hoped to give her a constitution; and they were now
merely witnesses to Napoleon's oath that he would obey the
constitution of his own making. As a civic festival, it was a mockery
in the eyes of men who remembered the "Feast of Pikes," and were not
to be dazzled by the waving of banners and the gorgeous costumes of
Napoleon and his brothers. The opening of the Chambers six days later
gave an outlet to the general discontent. The report that Napoleon
designed his brother Lucien for the Presidency of the Lower House is
incorrect. That honest democrat Lanjuinais was elected. Everything
portended a constitutional crisis, when the summons to arms rang
forth; and the chief, warning the deputies not to imitate the Greeks
of the late Empire by discussing abstract propositions while the
battering-ram thundered at their gates, cut short these barren debates
by that appeal to the sword which had rarely belied his hopes.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XXXIX

LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS


A less determined optimist than Napoleon might well have hoped for
success over the forces of the new coalition. True, they seemed
overwhelmingly great. But many a coalition had crumbled away under the
alchemy of his statecraft; and the jealousies that had raged at the
Congress of Vienna inspired the hope that Austria, and perhaps
England, might speedily be detached from their present allies. Strange
as it seems to us, the French people opined that Napoleon's escape
from Elba was due to the connivance of the British Government; and
Captain Mercer states that, even at Waterloo, many of the French clung
to the belief that the British resistance would be a matter of form.
Napoleon cherished no such illusion: but he certainly hoped to
surprise the British and Prussian forces in Belgium, and to sever at
one blow an alliance which he judged to be ill cemented. Thereafter he
would separate Austria from Russia, a task that was certainly possible
if victory crowned the French eagles.[472]

His military position was far stronger than it had been since the
Moscow campaign. The loss of Germany and Spain had really added to his
power. No longer were his veterans shut up in the fortresses of Europe
from Danzig to Antwerp, from Hamburg to Ragusa; and the Peninsular War
no longer engulfed great armies of his choicest troops. In the eyes of
Frenchmen he was not beaten in 1814; he was only tripped up by a
traitor when on the point of crushing his foes. And, now that peace
had brought back garrisons and prisoners of war, as many as 180,000
well-trained troops were ranged under the imperial eagles. He hoped by
the end of June to have half a million of devoted soldiers ready for
the field.

The difficulties that beset him were enough to daunt any mind but his.
Some of the most experienced Marshals were no longer at his side. St.
Cyr, Macdonald, Oudinot, Victor, Marmont, and Augereau remained true
to Louis XVIII. Berthier, on hearing of Napoleon's return from Elba,
forthwith retired into Germany, and, in a fit of frenzy, threw himself
from the window of a house in Bamberg while a Russian corps was
passing through that town. Junot had lost his reason. Masséna and
Moncey were too old for campaigning; Mortier fell ill before the first
shots were fired. Worst of all, the unending task of army organization
detained Davoust at Paris. Certainly he worked wonders there; but, as
in 1813 and 1814, Napoleon had cause to regret the absence of a
lieutenant equally remarkable for his acuteness of perception and
doggedness of purpose, for a good fortune that rarely failed, and a
devotion that never faltered. Doubtless it was this last priceless
quality, as well as his organizing gifts, that marked him out as the
ideal Minister of War and Governor of Paris. Besides him he left a
Council charged with the government during his absence, composed of
Princes Joseph and Lucien and the Ministers.

But, though the French army of 1815 lacked some of the names far famed
in story, numbers of zealous and able officers were ready to take
their place. The first and second corps were respectively assigned to
Drouet, Count d'Erlon, and Reille, the former of whom was the son of
the postmaster of Varennes, who stopped Louis XVI.'s flight. Vandamme
commanded the third corps; Gérard, the fourth; Rapp, the fifth; while
the sixth fell to Mouton, better known as Count Lobau. Rapp's corps
was charged with the defence of Alsace; other forces, led by Brune,
Decaen, and Clausel, protected the southern borders, while Suchet
guarded the Alps; but the rest of these corps were gradually drawn
together towards the north of France, and the addition of the Guard,
20,800 strong, brought the total of this army to 125,000 men.

There was one post which the Emperor found it most difficult to fill,
that of Chief of the Staff. There the loss of Berthier was
irreparable. While lacking powers of initiative, he had the faculty of
lucidly and quickly drafting Napoleon's orders, which insures the
smooth working of the military machine. Who should succeed this
skilful and methodical officer? After long hesitation Napoleon chose
Soult. In a military sense the choice was excellent. The Duke of
Dalmatia had a glorious military record; in his nature activity was
blended with caution, ardour with method; but he had little experience
of the special duties now required of him; and his orders were neither
drafted so clearly nor transmitted so promptly as those of Berthier.

The concentration of this great force proceeded with surprising
swiftness; and, in order to lull his foes into confidence, the Emperor
delayed his departure from Paris to the last moment possible. As dawn
was flushing the eastern sky, on June 12th, he left his couch, after
four hours' sleep, entered his landau, and speedily left his
slumbering capital behind. In twelve hours he was at Laon. There he
found that Grouchy's four cavalry brigades were not sharing in the
general advance owing to Soult's neglect to send the necessary orders.
The horsemen were at once hurried on, several regiments covering
twenty leagues at a stretch and exhausting their steeds. On the 14th
the army was well in hand around Beaumont, within striking distance of
the Prussian vanguard, from which it was separated by a screen of
dense woods. There the Emperor mounted his charger and rode along the
ranks, raising such a storm of cheers that he vainly called out: "Not
so loud, my children, the enemy will hear you." There, too, on this
anniversary of Marengo and Friedland, he inspired his men by a
stirring appeal on behalf of the independence of Poles, Italians, the
smaller German States, and, above all, of France herself. "For every
Frenchman of spirit the time has come to conquer or die."

What, meanwhile, was the position of the allies? An Austro-Sardinian
force threatened the south-east of France. Mighty armies of 170,000
Russians and 250,000 Austrians were rolling slowly on towards Lorraine
and Alsace respectively; 120,000 Prussians, under Blücher, were
cantoned between Liège and Charleroi; while Wellington's composite
array of British, German, and Dutch-Belgian troops, about 100,000
strong, lay between Brussels and Mons.[473] The original plan of these
two famous leaders was to push on rapidly into France; but the
cautious influences of the Military Council sitting at Vienna
prevailed, and it was finally decided not to open the campaign until
the Austrians and Russians should approach the frontiers of France.
Even as late as June 15th we find Wellington writing to the Czar in
terms that assume a co-operation of all the allies in simultaneous
moves towards Paris--movements which Schwarzenberg had led him to
expect _would begin about the 20th of June_.[474]

From this prolonged and methodical warfare Europe was saved by
Napoleon's vigorous offensive. His political instincts impelled him to
strike at Brussels, where he hoped that the populace would declare for
union with France and severance from the detested Dutch. In this war
he must not only conquer armies, he must win over public opinion; and
how could he gain it so well as in the guise of a popular liberator?

But there were other advantages to be gained in Belgium. By flinging
himself on Wellington and the Prussians, and driving them asunder, he
would compel Louis XVIII. to another undignified flight; and he would
disorganize the best prepared armies of his foes, and gain the
material resources of the Low Countries. He seems even to have
cherished the hope that a victory over Wellington would dispirit the
British Government, unseat the Ministry, and install in power the
peace-loving Whigs.

And this victory was almost within his grasp. While his host drew near
to the Prussian outposts south of Charleroi and Thuin, the allies were
still spread out in cantonments that extended over one hundred miles,
namely, from Liège on Blücher's left to Audenarde on Wellington's
right. This wide dispersion of troops, when an enterprising foe was
known to be almost within striking distance, has been generally
condemned. Thus General Kennedy, in his admirable description of
Waterloo, admits that there was an "absurd extension" of the
cantonments. Wellington, however, was bound to wait and to watch the
three good high-roads, by any one of which Napoleon might advance,
namely, those of Tournay, Mons, and Charleroi. The Duke had other
causes for extending his lines far to the west: he desired to cover
the roads from Ostend, whence he was expecting reinforcements, and to
stretch a protecting wing over the King of France at Ghent.

There are many proofs, however, that Wellington was surprised by
Napoleon. The narratives of Sir Hussey Vivian and Captain Mercer show
that the final orders for our advance were carried out with a haste
and flurry that would not have happened if the army had been well in
hand, or if Wellington had been fully informed of Napoleon's latest
moves.[475] There is a wild story that the Duke was duped by Fouché,
on whom he was relying for news from Paris. But it seems far more
likely that he was misled by the tidings sent to Louis XVIII. at Ghent
by zealous royalists in France, the general purport of which was that
Napoleon _would wage a defensive campaign_.[476] On the 13th June,
Wellington wrote: "I have accounts  from Paris of the 10th, on which
day he [Bonaparte] was still there; and I judge from his speech to
the Legislature that his departure was not likely to be immediate. I
think we are now too strong for him here." And, in later years, he
told Earl Stanhope that Napoleon "was certainly wrong in attacking at
all"; for the allied armies must soon have been in great straits for
want of food if they had advanced into France, exhausted as she was
by the campaign of 1814. "But," he added, "the fact is, Bonaparte
never in his life had patience for a defensive war."

[Illustration: PLAN OF THE WATERLOO
CAMPAIGN]

The Duke's forces would, at the outset of the campaign, have been in
less danger, if the leaders at the Prussian outposts, Pirch II. and
Dörnberg of the King's German Legion, had warned him of the enemy's
massing near the Sambre early on the 15th. By some mischance this was
not done; and our leader only heard from Hardinge, at the Prussian
headquarters, that the enemy seemed about to begin the offensive. He
therefore waited for more definite news before concentrating upon any
one line.

About 6 p.m. on the 15th he ordered his divisions and brigades to
concentrate at Vilvorde, Brussels, Ninove, Grammont, Ath,
Braine-le-Comte, Hal, and Nivelles--the first four of which were
somewhat remote, while the others were chosen with a view to defending
the roads leading northwards from Mons. Not a single British brigade
was posted on the Waterloo-Charleroi road, which was at that time
guarded only by a Dutch-Belgian division, a fact which supports Mr.
Ropes's contention that no definite plan of co-operation had been
formed by the allied leaders. Or, if there was one, the Duke certainly
refused to act upon it until he had satisfied himself that the chief
attack was not by way of Mons or Ath. More definite news reached
Brussels near midnight of the 15th, whereupon he gave a general left
turn to his advance, namely, _towards Nivelles_.

Clausewitz maintains that he should already have removed his
headquarters to Nivelles; had he done so and hurried up all available
troops towards the Soignies-Quatre Bras line, his Waterloo fame would
certainly have gained in solidity. A dash of romance was added by his
attending the Duchess of Richmond's ball at Brussels on the night of
the 15th-16th; lovers of the picturesque will always linger over the
scene that followed with its "hurrying to and fro and tremblings of
distress"; but the more prosaic inquirer may doubt whether Wellington
should not then have been more to the front, feeling every throb of
Bellona's pulse.[477]

Blücher's army, comprising 90,000 men, also covered a great stretch of
country. The first corps, that of Ziethen, held the bridges of the
Sambre at and near Charleroi; but the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann
were at Namur and Ciney; while, owing to a lack of stringency in the
orders sent by Gneisenau, chief of the staff, to Bülow, his corps of
32,000 men was still at Liège. Early on the 15th, Pirch I. and
Thielmann began hastily to advance towards Sombref; and Ziethen, with
32,000 men, prepared to hold the line of the Sambre as long as
possible. His chief of staff, General Reiche, states that one-third of
the Prussians were new troops, drafted in from the Landwehr; but all
the corps gloried in their veteran Field-Marshal, and were eager to
fight.

Such, then, was the general position. Wellington was unaware of his
danger; Blücher was straining every nerve to get his army together;
while 32,000 Prussians were exposed to the attack of nearly four times
their number. It is clear that, had all gone well with the French
advance, the fortunes of Wellington and Blücher must have been
desperate. But, though the concentration of 125,000 French troops near
Beaumont and Maubeuge had been effected with masterly skill (except
that Gérard's and D'Erlon's corps were late), the final moves did not
work quite smoothly. An accident to the officer who was to order
Vandamme's corps to march at 2 a.m. on the 15th caused a long delay to
that eager fighter.[478] The 4th corps, that of Gérard, was also
disturbed and delayed by an untoward event. General Bourmont, whose
old Vendéan opinions seemed to have melted away completely before the
sun of Napoleon's glory, rewarded his master by deserting with several
officers to the Prussians, very early on that morning. The incident
was really of far less importance than is assigned to it in the St.
Helena Memoirs, which falsely ascribe it to the 14th: the Prussians
were already on the _qui vive_ before Bourmont's desertion; but it
clogged the advance of Gérard's corps and fostered distrust among the
rank and file. When, on the morrow, Gérard rejoined his chief at the
mill of Fleurus, the latter reminded him that he had answered for
Bourmont's fidelity with his own head; and, on the general protesting
that he had seen Bourmont fight with the utmost devotion, Napoleon
replied: "Bah! A man who has been a white will never become a blue:
and a blue will never be a white." Significant words, that show the
Emperor's belief in the ineradicable strength of instinct and early
training.[479]

Despite these two mishaps, the French on the morning of the 15th
succeeded in driving Ziethen's men from the banks of the Sambre about
Thuin, while Napoleon in person broke through their line at Charleroi.
After suffering rather severely, the defenders fell back on Gilly,
whither Napoleon and his main force followed them; while the left wing
of the French advance, now intrusted to Ney, was swung forward against
the all-important position of Quatre Bras.

We here approach one of the knotty questions of the campaign. Why did
not Ney occupy the cross-roads in force on the evening of the 15th? We
may note first that not till the 11th had Napoleon thought fit to
summon Ney to the army, so that the Marshal did not come up till the
afternoon of this very day. He at once had an interview with the
Emperor, who, according to General Gourgaud, gave the Marshal verbal
orders to take command of the corps of Reille and D'Erlon, to push on
northwards, take up a position at Quatre Bras, and throw out advanced
posts beyond on the Brussels and Namur roads; but it seems unlikely
that the Emperor would have given one of the most venturesome of his
Marshals an absolute order to push on so far in advance, unless the
French right wing had driven the Prussians back beyond the Sombref
position. Otherwise, Ney would have been dangerously far in advance of
the main body and exposed to blows either from the Prussians or the
British.

However this may be, Ney certainly felt insecure, and did not push on
with his wonted dash; while, fortunately for the allies, an officer
was at hand Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who saw the need of holding
Quatre Bras at all costs.[480] The young leader imposed on the foe by
making the most of his men--they were but 4,500 all told, and had only
ten bullets apiece--and he succeeded. For once, Ney was prudent to a
fault, and did not push home the attack. In his excuse it may be said
that the men of Reille's corps, on whom he had to rely--for D'Erlon's
corps was still far to the rear--had been marching and fighting ever
since dawn, and were too weary for another battle. Moreover, the roar
of cannon on the south-east warned him that the right wing of the
French advance was hotly engaged between Gilly and Fleurus; until it
beat back the Prussians, his own position was dangerously "in the
air"; and, as but two hours of daylight remained, he drew back on
Frasnes. He is also said to have sent word to the Emperor that "he was
occupying Quatre Bras by an advanced guard, and that his main body was
close behind." If he deceived his chief by any such report, he
deserves the severest censure; but the words quoted above were written
later at St. Helena by General Gourgaud, when Ney had come to figure
as the scapegoat of the campaign.[481] Ney sent in a report on that
evening; but it has been lost.[482] Judging from the orders issued by
Napoleon and Soult early on the 16th, there was much uncertainty as to
Ney's position. The Emperor's letter bids him post his first division
"two leagues in front of les Quatres Chemins"; but Soult's letter to
Grouchy states that Ney is ordered _to advance to the cross-roads_.
Confusion was to be expected from the circumstances of the case. Ney
did not know his staff-officers, and he hastily took command of the
left wing when in the midst of operations whose success, as Janin
points out, largely depended on that of the right. He therefore played
a cautious game, when, as we now know, caution meant failure and
daring spelt safety.

Meanwhile the French right wing, of which Grouchy had received the
command, though Napoleon in person was its moving force, had been
pressing the Prussians hard near Gilly. Yet here, too, the assailants
were weakened by the absence of the corps of Vandamme and Gérard.
Irritated by Ziethen's skilful withdrawal, the Emperor at last
launched his cavalry at the Prussian rear battalions, four of which
were severely handled before they reached the covert of a wood. With
the loss, on the whole, of nearly 2,000 men, the Prussians fell back
towards Ligny, while Grouchy's vanguard bivouacked near the village of
Fleurus.

Napoleon might well be satisfied with the work done on June 15th: he
rode back to his headquarters at Charleroi, "exhausted with fatigue,"
after spending wellnigh eighteen hours in the saddle, but confident
that he had sundered the allies. This was certainly his aim now, as it
had been in the campaign of 1796. After two decisive blows at their
points of connection, he purposed driving them on divergent lines of
retreat, just as he had driven the Austrians and Sardinians down the
roads that bifurcate near Montenotte. True, there were in Belgium no
mountain spurs to prevent their reunion; but the roads on which they
were operating were far more widely divergent.[483] He also thought
lightly of Wellington and Blücher. The former he had pronounced
"incapable and unwise"; as for Blücher, he told Campbell at Elba that
he was "no general"; but that he admired the pluck with which "the old
devil" came on again after a thrashing.

Unclouded confidence is seen in every phrase of the letters that he
penned at Charleroi early on the 16th. He informs Ney that he intends
soon to attack the Prussians at Sombref, _if he finds them there_, to
clear the road as far as Gembloux, and then to decide on his further
actions as the case demands. Meanwhile Ney is to sweep the road in
front of Quatre Bras, placing his first division two leagues beyond
that position, if it seemed desirable, with a view to marching on
Brussels during the night with his whole force of about 50,000 men.
The Guard is to be kept in reserve as much as possible, so as to
support either Napoleon on the Gembloux road, or Ney on the Brussels
road; and "if any skirmish takes place with the English, it is
preferable that the work should fall on the Line rather than on the
Guard." As for the Prussian resistance, Napoleon rated it almost as
lightly as that of the English; for he regards it as probable that he
will in the evening _march on Brussels with his Guard_.

While he pictured his enemies hopelessly scattered or in retreat, they
were beginning to muster at the very points which he believed to be
within his grasp. At 11 a.m. only Ziethen's corps, now but 28,000
strong, was in position at Sombref, but the corps of Pirch I. and
Thielmann came up shortly after midday. Had Napoleon pushed on early
on the 16th, he must easily have gained the Ligny-Sombref position.
What, then, caused the delay in the French attack? It can be traced to
the slowness of Gérard's advance, to the Emperor's misconception of
the situation, and to his despatch to Grouchy.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF LIGNY.]

In this he reckoned the Prussians at
40,000 men, and ordered Grouchy to repair with the French right wing
to Sombref.

    " ... I shall be at Fleurus between 10 and 11 a.m.: I shall
    proceed to Sombref, leaving my Guard, both infantry and cavalry,
    at Fleurus: I would not take it to Sombref, unless it should be
    necessary. If the enemy is at Sombref, I mean to attack him: I
    mean to attack him even at Gembloux, and to gain this position
    also, my aim being, after having known about these two positions,
    to set out to-night, and to operate with my left wing, under the
    command of Marshal Ney, against the English."

The Emperor did not reach Fleurus until close on 11 a.m., and was
undoubtedly taken aback to find Grouchy still there, held in check by
the enemy strongly posted around Ligny. Grouchy has been blamed for
not having already attacked them; but surely his orders bound him to
wait for the Emperor before giving battle: besides, the corps of
Gérard, which had been assigned to him was still far away in the rear
towards Châtelet.[484] The absence of Gérard, and the uncertainty as
to the enemy's aims, annoyed the Emperor. He mounted the windmill
situated on the outskirts of Fleurus to survey the enemy's position.

It was a fair scene that lay before him. Straight in front ran the
high-road which joined the Namur-Nivelles _chaussée_, some six miles
away to the north-east. On either side stretched cornfields, whose
richness bore witness alike to the toils and the warlike passions of
mankind. Further ahead might be seen the dark lines of the enemy
ranged along slopes that formed an irregular amphitheatre, dotted with
the villages of Bry and Sombref. In the middle distance, from out a
hollow that lay concealed, rose the steeples and a few of the higher
roofs of Ligny. Further to the left and on higher ground lay St.
Amand, with its outlying hamlets. All was bathed in the shimmering,
sultry heat of midsummer, the harbinger, as it proved, of a violent
thunderstorm. The Prussian position was really stronger than it
seemed. Napoleon could not fully see either the osier beds that
fringed the Ligny brook, or its steep banks, or the many strong
buildings of Ligny itself. He saw the Prussians on the slope behind
the village, and was at first puzzled by their exposed position. "The
old fox keeps to earth," he was heard to mutter. And so he waited
until matters should clear up, and Gérard's arrival should give him
strength to compass Blücher's utter overthrow while in the act of
stretching a feeler towards Wellington. From the time when the Emperor
came on the scene to the first swell of the battle's roar, there was a
space of more than four hours.

This delay was doubly precious to the allies. It gave Blücher time to
bring up the corps of Pirch I. and Thielmann under cover of the high
ground near Sombref, thereby raising his total force to about 87,000
men; and it enabled the two allied commanders to meet and hastily
confer on the situation. Wellington had left Brussels that morning at
8 o'clock, and thanks to Ney's inaction, was able to reach the crest
south of Quatre Bras a little after 10, long before the enemy showed
any signs of life. There he penned a note to Blücher, asking for news
from him before deciding on his operations for the day.[485] He then
galloped over to the windmill of Bussy to meet Blücher.

It was an anxious meeting; the heads of the advancing French columns
were already in sight; and the Duke saw with dismay the position of
the Prussians on a slope that must expose them to the full force of
Napoleon's cannon--or, as he whispered to Hardinge, "they will be
damnably mauled if they fight here."[486] In more decorous terms, but
to the same effect, he warned Gneisenau, and said nothing to encourage
him to hold fast to his position. Neither did he lead him to expect
aid from Quatre Bras. The utmost that Gneisenau could get from him was
the promise, "Well! I will come provided I am not attacked myself."
Did these words induce the Prussians to accept battle at Ligny? It is
impossible to think so. Everything tends to show that Blücher had
determined to fight there. The risk was great; for, as we learn from
General Reiche, the position was seen to admit of no vigorous
offensive blows against the French. But fortune smiled on the veteran
Field-Marshal, and averted what might have been an irretrievable
disaster.[487]

It would seem that the inequalities of the ground hid the strength of
Pirch I. and Thielmann; for Napoleon still believed that he had ranged
against him at Ligny only a single corps. At 2 p.m. Soult informed Ney
that the enemy had united a _corps_ between Sombref and Bry, and that
in half an hour Grouchy would attack it. Ney was therefore to beat
back the foes at Quatre-Bras, and then turn to envelop the Prussians.
_But if these were driven in first, the Emperor would move towards Ney
to hasten his operations_.[488] Not until the battle was about to
begin does the Emperor seem to have realized that he was in presence
of superior forces.[489] But after 2 p.m. their masses drew down over
the slopes of Bry and Sombref, their foremost troops held the villages
of Ligny and St. Amand, while their left crowned the ridge of
Tongrines. Napoleon reformed his lines, which had hitherto been at
right angles to the main road through Fleurus. Vandamme's corps moved
off towards St. Amand; and Gérard, after ranging his corps parallel to
that road, began to descend towards Ligny, Grouchy meanwhile
marshalling the cavalry to protect their flank and rear. Behind all
stood the imposing mass of the Imperial Guard on the rising ground
near Fleurus.

The fiercest shock of battle fell upon the corps of Vandamme and
Gérard. Three times were Gérard's men driven back by the volleys of
the Prussians holding Ligny. But the French cannon open fire with
terrific effect. Roofs crumble away, and buildings burst into flame.
Once more the French rush to the onset, and a furious hand-to-hand
scuffle ensues. Half stifled by heat, smoke, and dust, the rival
nations fight on, until the defenders give way and fall back on the
further part of the village behind the brook; but, when reinforced,
they rally as fiercely as ever, and drive the French over its banks;
lane, garden, and attic once more become the scene of struggles where
no man thinks of giving or taking quarter.

Higher up the stream, at St. Amand, Vandamme's troops fared no better;
for Blücher steadily fed that part of his array. In so doing, however,
he weakened his reserves behind Ligny, thereby unwittingly favouring
Napoleon's design of breaking the Prussian centre, and placing its
wreckage and the whole of their right wing between two fires. The
Emperor expected that, by 6 o'clock, Ney would have driven back the
Anglo-Dutch forces, and would be ready to envelop the Prussian right.
That was the purport of Soult's despatch of 3.15 p.m. to Ney: "This
army [the Prussian] is lost, if you act with vigour. The fate of
France is in your hands."

But at 5.30, when part of the Imperial Guard was about to strengthen
Gérard for the decisive blow at the Prussian centre, Vandamme sent
word that a hostile force of some twenty or thirty thousand men was
marching towards Fleurus. This strange apparition not only unsteadied
the French left: it greatly perplexed the Emperor. As he had ordered
first Ney and then D'Erlon to march, not on Fleurus, but against the
rear of the Prussian right wing, he seems to have concluded that this
new force must be that of Wellington about to deal the like deadly
blow against the French rear.[490] Accordingly he checked the advance
of the Guard until the riddle could be solved. After the loss of
nearly two hours it was solved by an aide-de-camp, who found that the
force was D'Erlon's, and that it had retired.

Meanwhile the battle had raged with scarcely a pause, the French guns
working frightful havoc among the dense masses on the opposite slope.
And yet, by withdrawing troops to his right, Blücher had for a time
overborne Vandamme's corps and part of the Young Guard, unconscious
that his insistence on this side jeopardized the whole Prussian army.
His great adversary had long marked the immense extension of its
concave front, the massing of its troops against St. Amand, and the
remoteness of its left wing, which Grouchy's horsemen still held in
check; and he now planned that, while Blücher assailed St. Amand and
its hamlets, the Imperial Guard should crush the Prussian centre at
Ligny, thrust its fragments back towards St. Amand, and finally shiver
the greater part of the Prussian army on the anvil which D'Erlon's
corps would provide further to the west. He now felt assured of
victory; for the corps of Lobau was nearing Fleurus to take the place
of the Imperial Guard; and the Prussians had no supports. "They have
no reserve," he remarked, as he swept the hostile position with his
glass. This was true: their centre consisted of troops that for four
hours had been either torn by artillery or exhausted by the fiendish
strife in Ligny.

And now, as if the pent-up powers of Nature sought to cow rebellious
man into awe and penitence, the artillery of the sky pealed forth.
Crash after crash shook the ground; flash upon flash rent the
sulphur-laden rack; darkness as of night stole over the scene; and a
deluge of rain washed the blood-stained earth. The storm served but to
aid the assailants in their last and fiercest efforts. Amidst the
gloom the columns of the Imperial Guard crept swiftly down the slope
towards Ligny, gave new strength to Gérard's men, and together with
them broke through the defence. A little higher up the stream,
Milhaud's cuirassiers struggled across, and, animated by the Emperor's
presence, poured upon the shattered Prussian centre. No timely help
could it now receive either from Blücher or Thielmann; for the
darkness of the storm had shrouded from view the beginnings of the
onset, and Thielmann had just suffered from a heedless assault on
Grouchy's wing.

As the thunder-clouds rolled by, the gleams of the setting sun lit up
the field and revealed to Blücher the full extent of his error.[491]
His army was cut in twain. In vain did he call in his troops from St.
Amand: in vain did he gallop back to his squadrons between Bry and
Sombref and lead them forward. Their dashing charge was suddenly
checked at the brink of a hollow way; steady volleys tore away their
front; and the cuirassiers completed their discomfiture. Blücher's
charger was struck by a bullet, and in his fall badly bruised the
Field-Marshal; but his trusty adjutant, Nostitz, managed to hide him
in the twilight, while the cuirassiers swept onwards up the hill.
Other Prussian squadrons, struggling to save the day, now charged home
and drove back the steel-clad ranks. Some Uhlans and mounted Landwehr
reached the place where the hero lay; and Nostitz was able to save
that precious life. Sorely battered, but still defiant like their
chief, the Prussian cavalry covered the retreat at the centre; the
wings fell back in good order, the right holding on to the village of
Bry till past midnight; but several battalions of disaffected troops
broke up and did not rejoin their comrades. About 14,000 Prussians and
11,000 French lay dead or wounded on that fatal field.[492]

Napoleon, as he rode back to Fleurus after nightfall, could claim that
he had won a great victory. Yet he had not achieved the results
portrayed in Soult's despatch of 3.15 to Ney. This was due partly to
Ney's failure to fulfil his part of the programme, and partly to the
apparition of D'Erlon's corps, which led to the postponement of
Napoleon's grand attack on Ligny.

The mystery as to the movements of D'Erlon and his 20,000 men has
never been fully cleared up. The evidence collected by Houssaye leaves
little doubt that, as soon as the Emperor realized the serious nature
of the conflict at Ligny, he sent orders to D'Erlon, whose vanguard
was then near Frasnes, to diverge and attack Blücher's exposed flank.
That is to say, D'Erlon was now called on to deal the decisive blow
which had before been assigned to Ney, who was now warned, though very
tardily, not to rely on the help of D'Erlon's corps. Misunderstanding
his order, D'Erlon made for Fleurus, and thus alarmed Napoleon and
delayed his final blow for wellnigh two hours. Moreover, at 6 p.m.,
when D'Erlon might have assailed Blücher's right with crushing effect,
he received an urgent command from Ney to return. Assuredly he should
not have hesitated now that St. Amand was almost within cannon-shot,
while Quatre Bras could scarcely be reached before nightfall; but he
was under Ney's command; and, taking a rather pedantic view of the
situation, he obeyed his immediate superior. Lastly, no one has
explained why the Emperor, as soon as he knew the errant corps to be
that of D'Erlon, did not recall him at once, bidding him fall on the
exposed wing of the Prussians. Doubtless he assumed that D'Erlon would
now fulfil his instructions and march against Bry; but he gave no
order to this effect, and the unlucky corps vanished.

At that time a desperate conflict was drawing to a close at Quatre
Bras. Ney had delayed his attack until 2 p.m.; for, firstly, Reille's
corps alone was at hand--D'Erlon's rearguard early on that morning
being still near Thuin--and, secondly, the Marshal heard at 10 a.m.
that Prussian columns were marching westwards from Sombref, a move
that would endanger his rear behind Frasnes. Furthermore, the approach
to Quatre Bras was flanked by the extensive Bossu Wood, and by a
spinney to the right of the highway. Reille therefore counselled
caution, lest the affair should prove to be "a Spanish battle where
the English show themselves only when it is time." When, however,
Reille's corps pushed home the attack, the weakness of the defence was
speedily revealed. After a stout stand, the 7,000 Dutch-Belgians under
the Prince of Orange were driven from the farm of Gémioncourt, which
formed the key of the position, and many of them fled from the field.

But at this crisis the Iron Duke himself rode up; and the arrival of a
Dutch-Belgian brigade and of Picton's division of British infantry,
about 3 p.m., sufficed to snatch victory from the Marshal's
grasp.[493] He now opened a destructive artillery fire on our front,
to which the weak Dutch-Belgian batteries could but feebly reply.
Nothing, however, could daunt the hardihood of Picton's men. Shaking
off the fatigue of a twelve hours' march from Brussels under a burning
sun, they steadily moved down through the tall crops of rye towards
the farm and beat off a fierce attack of Piré's horsemen. On the
allied left, the 95th Rifles (now the Rifle Brigade) and Brunswickers
kept a clutch on the Namur road which nothing could loosen. But our
danger was mainly at the centre. Under cover of the farmhouse, French
columns began to drive in our infantry, whose ammunition was already
running low. Wellington determined to crush this onset by a
counter-attack in line of Picton's division, the "fighting division"
of the Peninsula. With threatening shouts they advanced to the charge;
and before that moving wall the foe fell back in confusion beyond the
rivulet.

Still, the French drove back the Dutch in the wood, and the
Brunswickers on its eastern fringe, killing the brave young Duke of
Brunswick as he attempted to rally his raw recruits. Into the gap thus
left the French horsemen pushed forward, making little impression upon
our footmen, but compelling them to keep in a close formation, which
exposed them in the intervals between the charges to heavy losses from
the French cannon.

So the afternoon wore on. Between 5 and 6 o'clock our weary troops
were reinforced by Alten's division. A little later, a brigade of
Kellermann's heavy cavalry came up from the rear and renewed Ney's
striking power--but again too late. Already he was maddened by the
tidings that D'Erlon's corps had been ordered off towards Ligny, and
next by Napoleon's urgent despatch of 3.15 p.m. bidding him envelop
Blücher's right. Blind with indignation at this seeming injustice, he
at once sent an imperative summons to D'Erlon to return towards Quatre
Bras, and launched a brigade of Kellermann's cuirassiers at those
stubborn squares.

The attack nearly succeeded. The horsemen rushed upon our 69th
Regiment just when the Prince of Orange had foolishly ordered it back
into line, caught it in confusion, and cut it up badly. Another
regiment, the 33rd, fled into the wood, but afterwards re-formed; the
other squares beat off the onset. The torrent, however, only swerved
aside: on it rushed almost to the cross-roads, there to be stopped by
a flanking fire from the wood and from the 92nd (Gordon) Highlanders
lining the roadway in front.--"Ninety-second, don't fire till I tell
you," exclaimed the Duke. The volley rang out when the horsemen were
but thirty paces off. The effect was magical. Their front was torn
asunder, and the survivors made off in a panic that spread to Foy's
battalions of foot and disordered the whole array.[494]

Ney still persisted in his isolated assaults; but reinforcements were
now at hand that brought up Wellington's total to 31,000 men, while
the French were less than 21,000. At nightfall the Marshal drew back
to Frasnes; and there D'Erlon's errant corps at last appeared. Thanks
to conflicting orders, it had oscillated between two battles and taken
part in neither of them.

Such was the bloody fight of Quatre Bras. It cost Wellington 4,600
killed and wounded, mainly from the flower of the British infantry,
three Highland regiments losing as many as 878 men. The French losses
were somewhat lighter. Few conflicts better deserve the name of
soldiers' battles. On neither side was the generalship brilliant.
Twilight set in before an adequate force of British cavalry and
artillery approached the field where their comrades on foot had for
five hours held up in unequal contest against cannon, sabre, and
lance. The victory was due to the strange power of the British soldier
to save the situation when it seems past hope.

Still less did it redound to the glory of Ney. Once more he had
merited the name of bravest of the brave. At the crisis of the fight,
when the red squares in front defied his utmost efforts, he brandished
his sword in helpless wrath, praying that the bullets that flew by
might strike him down. The rage of battle had, in fact, partly
obscured his reason. He was now a fighter, scarcely a commander; and
to this cause we may attribute his neglect adequately to support
Kellermann's charge. Had this been done, Quatre Bras might have ended
like Marengo. Far more serious, however, was his action in
countermanding the Emperor's orders' by recalling D'Erlon to Quatre
Bras; for, as we have seen, it robbed his master of the decisive
victory that he had the right to expect at Ligny. Yet this error must
not be unduly magnified. It is true that Napoleon at 3.15 sent a
despatch to Ney bidding him envelop Blücher's flank; but the order did
not reach him until some time after 5, when the allies were pressing
him hard, and when he had just heard of D'Erlon's deflection towards
the Emperor's battle.[495] He must have seen that his master misjudged
the situation at Quatre Bras; and in such circumstances a Marshal of
France was not without excuse when he corrected an order which he saw
to be based on a misunderstanding. Some part of the blame must surely
attach to the slow-paced D'Erlon and to the Emperor himself, who first
underrated the difficulties both at Ligny and Quatre Bras, and then
changed his plans when Ney was in the midst of a furious fight.

Nevertheless, the general results obtained on June the 16th were
enormously in favour of Napoleon. He had inflicted losses on the
Prussians comparable with those of Jena-Auerstädt; and he retired to
rest at Fleurus with the conviction that they must hastily fall back
on their immediate bases of supply, Namur and Liège, leaving
Wellington at his mercy. The rules of war and the dictates of humdrum
prudence certainly prescribed this course for a beaten army,
especially as Bülow's corps was known to be on the Liège road.

Scarcely had the Prussian retreat begun in the darkness, when officers
pressed up to Gneisenau, on whom now devolved all responsibility, for
instructions as to the line of march. At once he gave the order to
push northwards to Tilly. General Reiche thereupon pointed out that
this village was not marked upon the smaller maps with which colonels
were provided; whereupon the command was given to march towards the
town of Wavre, farther distant on the same road. An officer was posted
at the junction of roads to prevent regiments straying towards Namur;
but some had already gone too far on this side to be recalled--a fact
which was to confuse the French pursuers on the morrow. The greater
part of Thielmann's corps had fallen back on Gembloux; but, with these
exceptions, the mass of the Prussians made for Tilly, near which place
they bivouacked. Early on the next morning their rearguard drew off
from Sombref; and, thanks to the inertness of their foes, the line of
retreat remained unknown. During the march to Wavre, their columns
were cheered by the sight of the dauntless old Field-Marshal, who was
able to sit a horse once more. Thielmann's corps did not leave
Gembloux till 2 p.m., but reached Wavre in safety. Meanwhile Bülow's
powerful corps was marching unmolested from the Roman road near Hannut
to a position two miles east of Wavre, where it arrived at nightfall.
Equally fortunate was the reserve ammunition train, which, unnoticed
by the French cavalry, wound northwards by cross-roads through
Gembloux, and reached the army by 5 p.m.[496]

In his "Commentaries," written at St. Helena, Napoleon sharply
criticised the action of Gneisenau in retreating northwards to Wavre,
because that town is farther distant from Wellington's line of retreat
than Sombref is from Quatre Bras, and is connected with it only by
difficult cross-roads. He even asserted that the Prussians ought to
have made for Quatre Bras, a statement which presumes that Gneisenau
could have rallied his army sufficiently after Ligny to file away on
the Quatre Bras _chaussée_ in front of Napoleon's victorious legions.
But the Prussian army was virtually cut in half, and could not have
reunited so as to attempt the perilous flank march across Napoleon's
front. We shall, therefore, probably not be far wrong if we say of
this criticism that the wish was father to the thought. A march on
Quatre Bras would have been a safe means of throwing away the Prussian
army.[497]

To the present writer it seems probable that Gneisenau's action, in
the first instance, was undertaken as the readiest means of reuniting
the Prussian wings. But Gneisenau cannot have been blind to the
advantages of a reunion with Wellington, which a northerly march would
open out. The report which he sent to his Sovereign from Wavre shows
that by that time he believed the Prussian position to be "not
disadvantageous"; while in a private letter written at noon on the
17th he expressly states that the Duke will accept battle at Waterloo
if the Prussians help him with two army corps. Gneisenau's only doubts
seem to have been whether Wellington would fight and whether his own
ammunition would be to hand in time. Until he was sure on these two
points caution was certainly necessary.

The results of this prompt rally of the Prussians were infinitely
enhanced by the fact that Wellington soon found it out, while Napoleon
did not grasp its full import until he was in the thick of the battle
of Waterloo. To the final steps that led up to this dramatic finale we
must now briefly refer.

It is strange that Gneisenau, on the night of the 16th, took no steps
to warn his allies of the Prussian retreat, and merely left them to
infer it from his last message, that he must do so if he were not
succoured. Müffling, indeed, says that a Prussian officer was sent,
but was shot by the French on the British left wing. Seeing, however,
that Wellington had beaten back Ney's forces before the Prussian
retreat began, the story may be dismissed as a lame excuse of
Gneisenau's neglect.[498]

From the risk of being crushed by Napoleon, the Anglo-Dutch forces
were saved by the vigilance of their leader and the supineness of the
enemy. After a brief rest at Genappe, the Duke was back at the front
at dawn, and despatched two cavalry patrols towards Sombref to find
out the results of the battle. The patrol, which was accompanied by
the Duke's aide-de-camp, Colonel Gordon, came into touch with the
Prussian rear. On his return soon after 10, the staff-officer, Basil
Jackson, was at once sent to bid Picton immediately prepare to fall
back on Waterloo, an order which that veteran received very
sulkily.[499] Shortly after Gordon's return, a Prussian orderly
galloped up and confirmed the news of their retreat, which drew from
the Duke the remark: "Blücher has had a d---- d good licking and gone
back to Wavre.... As he has gone back, we must go too." The infantry
now began to file off by degrees behind hedges or under cover of a
screen of cavalry and skirmishers, these keeping Ney's men busy in
front, until the bulk of the army was well through the narrow and
crowded street of Genappe.

And how came it that Napoleon and Ney missed this golden opportunity?
In the first case, it was due to their chiefs of staff, who had not
sent overnight any tidings as to the results of their respective
battles. Until Count Flahaut returned to the Imperial headquarters
about 8 a.m., Napoleon knew nothing as to the position of affairs at
Quatre Bras; while a similar carelessness on Soult's part left Ney
powerless to attempt anything against Wellington until somewhat later
in the morning.

But Napoleon's inaction lasted nearly up to 11.30. How is this to be
accounted for? In reply, some attribute his conduct to illness of body
and torpor of mind--a topic that will engage our attention presently;
others assert that the army urgently needed rest; but the effective
cause was his belief that the Prussians were retreating eastwards away
from Wellington. This was the universal belief at headquarters. He had
ordered Grouchy to follow them at dawn; Grouchy's lieutenant, Pajol,
struck to the south-east, and by 4 a.m. reported that Blücher was
heading for Namur. Such was the news that the Emperor heard from
Grouchy about 8 a.m.--he refused to grant him an audience earlier.
Forthwith he dictated a letter to Ney to the following effect: that
the Prussians had been routed and were being pursued towards Namur;
that the British could not attack him (Ney) at Quatre Bras, for the
Emperor would in that case march on their flank and destroy them in an
instant; that he heard with pain how isolated Ney's troops had been on
the 16th, and ordered him to close up his divisions and occupy Quatre
Bras. If he could not effect that task, he must warn the Emperor, who
would then come. Finally, he warned him that "the present day is
needed to finish this operation, to complete the munitions of war, to
rally stragglers and call in detachments."

A singular day's programme this for the man who had trebled the
results of the victory of Jena by the remorseless energy of the
pursuit. After dictating this despatch, he ordered Lobau to take a
division of infantry for the support of Pajol on the Namur road. He
then set out for St. Amand in his carriage. On arriving at the place
of carnage he mounted his horse and rode slowly over the battle-field,
seeing to the needs of the wounded of both nations with kindly care,
and everywhere receiving the enthusiastic acclaim of his soldiery.
This done, he dismounted and talked long and earnestly with Grouchy,
Gérard, and others on the state of political parties at Paris. They
listened with ill-concealed restlessness. At Fleurus Grouchy asked for
definite orders, and received the brusque reply that he must wait. But
now, towards 11 o'clock, the Emperor hears that Wellington is still at
Quatre Bras, that Pajol has captured eight Prussian guns on the Namur
road, and that Excelmans has seen masses of the enemy at Gembloux. At
once he turns from politics to war.

His plan is formed. While he himself falls on the British, Grouchy is
to pursue the Prussians with the corps of Gérard and Vandamme, the
division of Teste (from Lobau's command), and the cavalry corps of
Pajol, Excelmans, and Milhaud. The Marshal begged to be relieved of
the task, setting forth the danger of pursuing foes that were now
reunited and far away. It was in vain. About 11.30 the Emperor
developed his verbal instructions in a written order penned by
Bertrand. It bade Grouchy proceed to Gembloux with the forces stated
above (except Milhaud's corps and a division of Vandamme's corps,
which were to follow Napoleon) to reconnoitre on the roads leading to
Namur and Maestricht, to pursue the enemy, and inform the Emperor as
to their intentions. If they have evacuated Namur, it is to be
occupied by the National Guards. "It is important to know what Blücher
and Wellington mean to do, and whether they propose reuniting their
armies in order to cover Brussels and Liège, by trying their fortune
in another battle...."[500]

As Napoleon's fate was to depend largely on an intelligent carrying
out of this order, we may point out that it consisted of two chief
parts, the general aim and the means of carrying out that aim. The aim
was to find out the direction of the Prussians' retreat, and to
prevent them joining Wellington, whether for the defence of Brussels
or of Liège. The means were an advance to Gembloux and scouting along
the Namur and Maestricht roads. The chance that the allies might
reunite for the defence of Brussels was alluded to, but no measures
were prescribed as to scouting in that direction: these were left to
Grouchy's discretion. It must be confessed that the order was not
wholly clear. To name the towns of Brussels and Liège (which are sixty
miles apart) was sufficiently distracting; and to suggest that only
the eastern and south-eastern roads should be explored was certain to
limit Grouchy's immediate attention to those roads alone. For he
distrusted alike his own abilities and the power of the force placed
at his disposal; and an officer thus situated is sure to inclose
himself in the strict letter of his instructions. This was what he
did, with disastrous results.

Grouchy had hitherto held no important command. As a cavalry general
he had done brilliant service; but now he was launched on a duty that
called for strategic insight. His force was scarcely equal to the
work. True, it was strong for scouting, having nearly 6,000 light
horse; but the 27,000 footmen of Vandamme's and Gérard's corps had
been exhausted by the deadly strife in the villages and were expecting
a day's rest. Their commanders also resented being placed under
Grouchy. In fact, leaders and men disliked the task, and set about it
in a questioning, grumbling way. The infantry did not start till about
3 o'clock and only reached Gembloux late that evening--nine miles in
six hours! The cavalry, too, was so badly handled by Excelmans around
Gembloux that Thielmann's corps slipped away northward. The rain fell
in torrents, obscuring the view; but it seems strange that the
direction of the Prussian retreat was not surmised until about
nightfall.

Meanwhile, on the French left wing, Ney had been equally lax. He must
have received Napoleon's order to occupy Quatre Bras, "if there was
only a rearguard there," a little before 10 a.m.; but he took no steps
beyond futile skirmishing, and apparently knew not that the British
were slipping away.

About 2 p.m., when the British cavalry was ready to turn rein, the
Duke and Sir H. Vivian saw the glint of cuirasses along the Sombref
road. It was the vanguard of the Emperor's advance. Furious that his
foes were escaping from his clutches, Napoleon had left his carriage
and was pressing on with the foremost horsemen. To Ney he sent an
imperative summons to advance, and when that Marshal came up, greeted
him with the words "You have ruined France." But it was time for
deeds, not words; and he now put forth all his strength. At once he
flung his powerful cavalry at the British rear; and even now it might
have gone hard with Wellington had not the lowering clouds burst in a
deluge of rain. Quickly the road was ploughed up; and the cornfields
became impassable for the French horsemen.

While the pursuers struggled in the mire and aimed wildly through the
pelting haze, the British rearguard raced for safety. Says Captain
Mercer of the artillery: "We galloped for our lives through the storm,
striving to gain the hamlets, Lord Uxbridge urging us on, crying 'Make
haste; for God's sake gallop, or you will be taken.'"[501] Gaining on
the pursuit, they reached Genappe, and, filing over its bridge and up
the narrow street, prepared to check the French. At this time the
Emperor galloped up, drenched to the skin, his gray overcoat streaming
with rain, his hat bent out of all shape by the storm.[502] He was
once more the artillery officer of Toulon. "Fire on them," he shouted
to his gunners, "they are English." A sharp skirmish ensued, in which
our 7th Hussars, charging down into the village, were worsted by the
French lancers, "an arm," says Cotton, "with which we were quite
unacquainted." In their retreat they were saved by the Life Guards,
whose weight and strength carried all before them.

At last, on the ridge of Waterloo, Wellington's force turned at bay.
Napoleon, coming up at 6.30 to the brow of the opposite slope, ordered
a strong force to advance into the sodden clay of the valley. It was
promptly torn by a heavy cannonade; and the truth was borne in on him
that the British had escaped him for that day.






NAPOLEON'S HEALTH IN THE WATERLOO CAMPAIGN


As many writers assert that Napoleon at this time was but the shadow
of his former self, we must briefly review the evidence of
contemporaries on this subject; for if the assertion be true, the
Battle of Waterloo deserves little notice.

It seems that for some time past there had been a slight falling off
in his mental and bodily powers; but when it began and how far it
progressed is matter of doubt. Some observers, including Chaptal, date
it from the hardships of the retreat from Moscow. This is very
doubtful. He ended that campaign in a better state of health than he
had enjoyed during the advance. Besides, in none of his wars did he
show such vitality and fertility of resource as in the desperate
struggle of 1814, which Wellington pronounced his masterpiece. After
this there seems to have been a period of something like relapse at
Elba. In September, 1814, Sir Neil Campbell reported: "Napoleon seems
to have lost all habits of study and sedentary application. He
occasionally falls into a state of inactivity never known before, and
sometimes reposes in his bedroom of late for several hours in the day;
takes exercise in a carriage and not on horseback. His health
excellent and his spirits not at all depressed" ("F.O.," France, No.
114). During his ten months at Elba he became very stout and his
cheeks puffy.

On his return to France he displayed his old activity; and the most
credible witnesses assert that his faculties showed no marked decline.
Guizot, who saw a good deal of him, writes: "I perceive in the
intellect and conduct of Napoleon during the Hundred Days no sign of
enfeebling: I find in his judgment and actions his accustomed
qualities." In a passage quoted above (p. 449) Mollien notes that his
master was a prey to lassitude after some hours of work, but he says
nothing on the subject of disease; and in a man of forty-six, who had
lived a hard life and a "fast" life, we should not expect to find the
capacity for the sustained intellectual efforts of the Consulate.
Méneval noticed nothing worse in his master's condition than a
tendency to "réverie": he detected no disease. The statement of
Pasquier that his genius and his physical powers were in a profound
decline is a manifest exaggeration, uttered by a man who did not once
see him before Waterloo, who was driven from Paris by him, and strove
to discourage his supporters. Still less can we accept the following
melodramatic description, by Thiébault, of Napoleon's appearance on
Sunday, June 11th: "His look, once so formidable and piercing, had
lost its strength and even its steadiness: his face had lost all
expression and all its force: his mouth, compressed, had none of its
former witchery: and his gait was as perplexed as his demeanour and
gestures were undecided: the ordinary pallor of his skin was replaced
by a strongly pronounced greenish tinge which struck me."

Let us follow this wreck of a man to the war and see what he
accomplished. At dawn on June 12th he entered his landau and drove to
Laon, a distance of some seventy miles. On the next day he got through
an immense amount of work, and proceeded to Beaumont. On the 15th of
June he was up at dawn, mounted his horse, and remained on horseback,
directing the operations against the Prussians, for nearly eighteen
hours. This time was broken by one spell of rest. Near Charleroi, says
Baudus, an officer of Soult's staff, he was overcome by sleep and
heeded not the cheers of a passing column: at this Baudus was
indignant, but most unjustly so. Napoleon needed these snatches of
sleep as a relief to prolonged mental tension. At night he returned to
Charleroi, "overcome with fatigue." On the next day he was still very
weary, says Ségur; he did not exert himself until the battle of Ligny
began at 2.30; but he then rode about till nightfall, through a time
of terrible heat. Fatigue showed itself again early on the morrow,
when he declined to see Grouchy before 8 a.m. Yet his review of the
troops and his long discussions on Parisian politics were clearly due,
not to torpor, but to the belief that he had sundered the allies, and
could occupy Brussels at will; for when he found out his mistake, he
showed all the old energy, riding with the vanguard from Quatre Bras
to La Belle Alliance through the violent rain.

Whatever, then, were his ailments, they were not incompatible with
great and sustained activity. What were those ailments? He is said to
have suffered from intermittent affections of the lower bowel, of the
bladder, and of the skin, the two last resulting in ischury (Dorsey
Gardner's "Quatre Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo," pp. 31-37; O'Connor
Morris, pp. 164-166, note). The list is formidable; but it contains
its own refutation. A man suffering from these diseases, unless in
their earliest and mildest stages, could not have done what Napoleon
did. Ischury, if at all pronounced, is a bar to horse exercise.
Doubtless his long rides aggravated any trouble that he had in this
respect, for Pétiet, who was attached to the staff, noticed that he
often dismounted and sat before a little table that was brought to him
for the convenience of examining maps; but Pétiet thought this was
due, not to ill health (about which he says nothing), but to his
corpulence ("Souvenirs militaires," pp. 196 and 212). Prince Jerome
and a surgeon of the imperial staff assured Thiers that Napoleon was
suffering from a disease of the bladder; but this was contradicted by
the valet, Marchand; and if he really was suffering from all, or any
one, of the maladies named above, it is very strange that the surgeon
allowed him to expose himself to the torrential rain of the night of
the 17th-18th for a purpose which a few trusty officers could equally
well have discharged (see next chapter). Furthermore, Baron Larrey,
Chief Surgeon of the army, who saw Napoleon before the campaign began
and during its course, _says not a word about the Emperor's health_
("Relation médicale des Campagnes, 1815-1840," pp. 5-11).

Again, the intervals of drowsiness on the 15th and 18th of June, on
which the theory of physical collapse is largely based, may be
explained far more simply. Napoleon had long formed the habit of
working a good deal at night and of seeking repose during a busy day
by brief snatches of slumber. The habit grew on him at Elba; and this,
together with his activity since daybreak, accounts for his sleeping
near Charleroi. The same explanation probably holds good as to his
occasional drowsiness at Waterloo. He scarcely closed his eyes before
3.30 a.m.; and he cannot have been physically fit for the unexpectedly
long and severe strain of that Sunday. That he began the day well we
know from a French soldier named Barral (grandfather of the author of
"L'Epopée de Waterloo"), who looked at him carefully at 9.30 a.m., and
wrote: "He seemed to me in very good health, extraordinarily active
and preoccupied." Decoster, the peasant guide who was with Napoleon
the whole day, afterwards told Sir W. Scott that he was calm and
confident up to the crisis. Gourgaud, who clung to him during the
flight to Paris and thence to Rochefort, notes nothing more serious
than great fatigue; Captain Maitland, when he received him on board
the "Bellerophon," thought him "a remarkably strong, well-built man."
During the voyage to St. Helena he suffered from nothing worse than
_mal de mer_; he ate meat in exceptional quantity, even in the
tropics.

Very noteworthy, too, is Lavalette's narrative. When he saw Napoleon
before his departure from Paris to the Belgian frontier, he found him
suffering from depression and a pain in the chest; but he avers that,
on the return from Waterloo, apart from one "frightful epileptic
laugh," Napoleon speedily settled down to his ordinary behaviour: not
a word is added as to his health. (Sir W. Scott, "Life of Napoleon,"
vol. viii., p. 496; Gourgaud, "Campagne de 1815," and "Journal de St.
Hélène," vol. ii., Appendix 32; "Narrative of Captain Maitland," p.
208; Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxxiii.; Houssaye ridicules the stories
of his ill-health.)

What is the upshot of it all? The evidence seems to show that,
whatever was Napoleon's condition before the campaign, he was in his
usual health amidst the stern joys of war. And this is consonant with
his previous experience: he throve on events which wore ordinary
beings to the bone: the one thing that he could not endure was the
worry of parliamentary opposition, which aroused a nervous irritation
not to be controlled and concealed without infinite effort. During the
campaign we find very few trustworthy proofs of his decline and much
that points to energy of resolve and great rallying power after
exertion. If he was suffering from three illnesses, they were
assuredly of a highly intermittent nature.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XL

WATERLOO


Would Wellington hold on to his position? This was the thought that
troubled the Emperor on the night after the wild chase from Quatre
Bras. Before retiring to rest at the Caillou farm, he went to the
front with Bertrand and a young officer, Gudin by name, and peered at
the enemy's fires dimly seen through the driving sheets of rain.
Satisfied that the allies were there, he returned to the farm,
dictated a few letters on odious parliamentary topics, and then sought
a brief repose. But the same question drove sleep from his eyes. At
one o'clock he was up again and with the faithful Bertrand plashed to
the front through long rows of drenched recumbent forms. Once more
they strained their ears to catch through the hiss of the rain some
sound of a muffled retirement. Strange thuds came now and again from
the depths of the wood of Hougoumont: all else was still. At last,
over the slope on the north-east crowned by the St. Lambert Wood there
stole the first glimmer of gray; little by little the murky void
bodied forth dim shapes, and the watch-fires burnt pale against the
orient gleams. It was enough. He turned back to the farm. Wellington
could scarcely escape him now.

While the Emperor was making the round of his outposts, a somewhat
cryptic despatch from Grouchy reached headquarters. The Marshal
reported from Gembloux, at 10 p.m. of the 17th, that part of the
Prussians had retired towards Wavre, seemingly with a view to joining
Wellington; that their centre, led by Blücher, had fallen back on
Perwez in the direction of Liège; while a column with artillery had
made for Namur; if he found the enemy's chief force to be on the Liège
_chaussée_, he would pursue them along that road; if towards Wavre, he
would follow them thither "in order that they may not gain Brussels,
and so as to separate them from Wellington." This last phrase ought
surely to have convinced Napoleon that Grouchy had not fully
understood his instructions; for to march on Wavre would not stop the
Prussians joining Wellington, if they were in force.[503]

Moreover, Napoleon now knew, what Grouchy did not know, that the
Prussians were in force at Wavre. It seems strange that the Emperor
did not send this important news to his Marshal; but perhaps we may
explain this by his absence at the outposts. As it was, no clear
statement of the facts of the case was sent off to Grouchy _until 10
a.m. of the 18th_. He then informed his Marshal that, according to all
the reports, three bodies of Prussians had made for Wavre. Grouchy
"must therefore move thither--in order to approach us, to put yourself
within the sphere of our operations, and to keep up your
communications with us, pushing before you those bodies of Prussians
which have taken this direction and which may have stopped at Wavre,
where you ought to arrive as soon as possible." Grouchy, however, was
not to neglect Blücher's troops that were on his right, but must pick
up their stragglers and keep up his communications with Napoleon.

Such was the letter; and again we must pronounce it far from clear.
Grouchy was not bidden to throw all his efforts on the side of Wavre;
and he was not told whether he must attack the enemy at that town, or
interpose a wedge between them and Wellington, or support Napoleon's
right. Now Napoleon would certainly have prescribed an immediate
concentration of Grouchy's force towards the north-west for one of the
last two objects, had he believed Blücher about to attempt a flank
march against the chief French army. Obviously it had not yet entered
his thoughts that so daring a step would be taken by a foe whom he
pictured as scattered and demoralized by defeat.[504]

As we have seen, the Prussians were not demoralized; they had not gone
off in three directions; and Blücher was not making for Liège. He was
at Wavre and was planning a master-stroke. At midnight, he had sent to
Wellington, through Müffling, a written promise that at dawn he would
set the corps of Bülow in motion against Napoleon's right; that of
Pirch I. was to follow; while the other two corps would also be ready
to set out. Wellington received this despatch about 3 a.m. of the
18th, and thereupon definitely resolved to offer battle. A similar
message was sent off from Wavre at 9.30 a.m., but with a postscript,
in which we may discern Gneisenau's distrust of Wellington, begging
Müffling to find out accurately whether the Duke really had determined
to fight at Waterloo. Meanwhile Bülow's corps had begun its march from
the south-east of Wavre, but with extreme slowness, which was due to a
fire at Wavre, to the crowded state of the narrow road, and also to
the misgivings of Gneisenau. It certainly was not owing to fear of
Grouchy; for at that time the Prussian leaders believed that only
15,000 French were on their track. Not until midday, when the
cannonade on the west grew to a roar, did Gneisenau decide to send
forward Ziethen's corps towards Ohain, on Wellington's left; but
thereafter the defence of the Dyle against Grouchy was left solely to
Thielmann's corps.[505]

While this storm was brewing in the east, everything in front of the
Emperor seemed to portend a prosperous day. High as he rated
Wellington's numbers, he had no doubt as to the result. "The enemy's
army," he remarked just after breakfast, "outnumbers ours by more than
a fourth; nevertheless we have ninety chances out of a hundred in our
favour." Ney, who then chanced to come in, quickly remarked: "No
doubt, sire, if Wellington were simple enough to wait for you; but I
come to inform you that he is retreating." "You have seen wrong," was
the retort, "the time is gone for that." Soult did not share his
master's assurance of victory, and once more begged him to recall some
of Grouchy's force; to which there came the brutal reply: "Because you
have been beaten by Wellington you think him a great general. And I
tell you that Wellington is a bad general, that the English are bad
troops, and that this will be the affair of a _déjeuner_." "I hope it
may," said Soult. Reille afterwards came in, and, finding how
confident the Emperor was, mentioned the matter to D'Erlon, who
advised his colleague to return and caution him. "What is the use,"
rejoined Reille; "he would not listen to us."

In truth, Napoleon was in no mood to receive advice. He admitted on
the voyage to St. Helena that "he had not exactly reconnoitred
Wellington's position."[506] And, indeed, there seemed to be nothing
much to reconnoitre. The Mont St. Jean, or Waterloo, position does not
impress the beholder with any sense of strength. The so-called valley,
separating the two arrays, is a very shallow depression, nowhere more
than fifty feet below the top of the northern slope. It is divided
about halfway across by an undulation that affords good cover to
assailants about to attack La Haye Sainte. Another slight rise crosses
the vale halfway between this farm and Hougoumont, and facilitates the
approach to that part of the ridge. In fact, only on their extreme
left could the defenders feel much security; for there the slope is
steeper, besides being protected in front by marshy ground, copses,
and the hamlets of Papelotte, La Haye, and Smohain.

Napoleon paid little attention to the left wing of the allies. The
centre and right centre were evidently Wellington's weak points, and
there, especially near the transverse rise, our leader chiefly massed
his troops. Yet there, too, the defence had some advantages. The front
of the centre was protected by La Haye Sainte, "a strong stone and
brick building," says Cotton, "with a narrow orchard in front and a
small garden in the rear, both of which were hedged around, except on
the east side of the garden, where there was a strong wall running
along the high-road." It is generally admitted that Wellington gave
too little attention to this farm, which Napoleon saw to be the key of
the allied position. Loopholes were made in its south and east walls,
but none in the western wall, and half of the barn-door opening on the
fields had been torn off for firewood by soldiers overnight. The place
was held at first by 376 men of the King's German Legion, who threw up
a barricade at the barn-door, as also on the high-road outside the
orchard; but, as the sappers and carpenters were removed to
Hougoumont, little could be done.

Far stronger was the château of Hougoumont, which had been built with
a view to defence. The outbuildings were now loopholed, and scaffolds
were erected to enable our men to fire over the garden walls which
commanded the orchard. The defence was intrusted to the light
companies of the second battalions of Coldstreams and Foot Guards (now
the Grenadier Guards); while the wood in front was held by Nassauers
and Hanoverians. Chassé's Dutch-Belgians were posted at the village of
Braine la Leud to give further security to Wellington's right.[507]
Napoleon's intention was to pierce the allied centre behind La Haye
Sainte, where their lines were thin. But he did not know that behind
the crest ran a sunken cross-road, which afforded excellent cover, and
that the ground, sloping away towards Wellington's rear, screened his
second line and reserves.

It was this peculiarity of the ground, so different from that of the
exposed slope behind Ligny, that helped the great master of defensive
tactics secretly to meet and promptly to foil every onset of his
mighty antagonist.

While under-estimating the strength of Wellington's position Napoleon
over-rated his numbers. As we have seen, he remarked that the allies
exceeded the French by more than a fourth. Now, as his own numbers
were fully 74,000, he credited the allies with upwards of 92,000. In
reality, they were not more than 67,000, as Wellington had left 17,000
at Hal; but if this powerful detachment had been included, Napoleon's
estimate would not have been far wrong. At St. Helena he gave out that
his despatch of cavalry towards Hal had induced Wellington to weaken
his army to this extent; but Houssaye has shown that the statement is
an entire fabrication. The Emperor certainly believed that all
Wellington's troops were close at hand.[508]

The Duke, on his side, would doubtless have retreated had he known
that the Prussian advance would be as slow as it was. His composite
forces, in which five languages were spoken, were unfit for a long
contest with Napoleon's army. The Dutch-Belgian troops, numbering
17,000, were known to be half-hearted; the 2,800 Nassauers, who had
served under Soult in 1813, were not above suspicion; the 11,000
Hanoverians and 5,900 Brunswickers were certain to do their best, but
they were mostly raw troops. In fact, Wellington could thoroughly rely
only on his 23,990 British troops and the 5,800 men of the King's
German Legion; and among our men there was a large proportion of
recruits or drafts from militia battalions. Events were to prove that
this motley gathering could hold its own while at rest; but during the
subsequent march to Paris Wellington passed the scathing judgment
that, with the exception of his Peninsular men, it was "the worst
equipped army, with the worst staff, ever brought together."[509] This
was after he had lost De Lancey, Picton, Ponsonby, and many other able
officers; but on the morning of the 18th there was no lack of skill in
the placing of the troops, witness General Kennedy's arrangement of
Alten's division so that it might readily fall into the "chequer"
pattern, which proved so effective against the French horsemen.

Napoleon's confidence seemed to be well founded: he had 246 cannon
against the allies' 156, and his preponderance in cavalry of the line
was equally great. Above all, there were the 13,000 footmen of the
Imperial Guard, flanked by 3,000 cavaliers. The effective strength of
the two armies has been reckoned by Kennedy as in the proportion of
four to seven. Why, then, did he not attack at once? There were two
good reasons: first that his men had scattered widely overnight in
search of food and shelter, and now assembled very slowly on the
plateau; second, that the rain did not abate until 8 a.m., and even
then slight drizzles came on, leaving the ground totally unfit for the
movements of horse and artillery. Leaving the troops time to form and
the ground to improve, the Emperor consulted his charts and took a
brief snatch of sleep. He then rode to the front; and, as the
gray-coated figure passed along those imposing lines, the enthusiasm
found vent in one rolling roar of "Vive l'Empereur," which was wafted
threateningly to the thinner array of the allies. There the leader
received no whole-hearted acclaim save from the men who knew him; but
among these there was no misgiving. "If," wrote Major Simmons of the
95th, "you could have seen the proud and fierce appearance of the
British at that tremendous moment, there was not one eye but gleamed
with joy."[510]

The first shots were fired at 11.50 to cover the assault on the wood
of Hougoumont by Prince Jerome Bonaparte's division of Reille's corps.
The Nassauers and Hanoverians briskly replied, and Cleeve's German
battery opened fire with such effect that the leading column fell
back. Again the assailants came on in greater force under shelter of a
tremendous cannonade: this time they gained a lodgment, and step by
step drove the defenders back through the copse. Though checked for a
time by the Guards, they mastered the wood south of the house by about
one o'clock. There they should have stopped. Napoleon's orders were
for them to gain a hold only on the wood and throw out a good line of
skirmishers: all that he wanted on this side was to prevent any
turning movement from Wellington's advanced outposts. Reille also sent
orders not to attack the château; but the Prince and his men rushed on
at those massive walls, only to meet with a bloody repulse. A second
attack fared no better; and though some 12,000 of Reille's men
finally attacked the mansion on three sides, yet our Guards, when
reinforced, beat off every onset of wellnigh ten times their numbers.

For some time the Emperor paid little heed to this waste of energy; at
2 p.m. he recalled Jerome to his side. He now saw the need of
husbanding his resources; for a disaster had overtaken the French
right centre. He had fixed one o'clock for a great attack on La Haye
Sainte by D'Erlon's corps of nearly 20,000 men. But a delay occurred
owing to a cause that we must now describe.

Before his great battery of eighty guns belched forth at the centre
and blotted out the view, he swept the horizon with his glass, and
discerned on the skirts of the St. Lambert wood, six miles away, a
dark object. Was it a spinney, or a body of troops? His staff officers
could not agree; but his experienced eye detected a military
formation. Thereupon some of the staff asserted that they must be
Blücher's men, others that they were Grouchy's. Here he could scarcely
be in a doubt. Not long after 10 a.m. he received from Grouchy a
despatch, dated from Gembloux at 3 a.m., reporting that the Prussians
were retiring in force on Brussels to concentrate or to join
Wellington, and that he (Grouchy) was on the point of starting for
Sart-à-Walhain and Wavre. He said nothing as to preventing any flank
march that the enemy might make from Wavre with a view to joining
their allies straightway. Therefore he was not to be looked for on
this side of Wavre, and those troops must consequently be
Prussians.[511]

All doubts were removed when a Prussian hussar officer, captured by
Marbot's vedettes near Lasne, was brought to Napoleon. He bore a
letter from Bülow to Müffling, stating that the former was on the
march to attack the French right wing. In reply to Napoleon's
questions the captain stated that Bülow's whole corps was in motion,
but wisely said nothing about the other two corps that were following.
Such as it was, the news in no way alarmed the Emperor. As Bülow was
about to march against the French flank, Grouchy must march on his
flank and take his corps _en flagrant délit_. That is the purport of
the postscript added to a rather belated reply that was about to be
sent off to Grouchy at 1 p.m. It did not reach him till 5 p.m., too
late to influence the result, even had he desisted from his attack on
Wavre, which he did not.[512]

We return to the Emperor's actions at half-past one. Domont's and
Subervie's light horsemen were sent out towards Frischermont to
observe the Prussians; the great battery of eighty guns, placed on the
intermediate rise, now opened fire; and under cover of its deadly
blasts D'Erlon's four divisions dipped down into the valley. They were
ranged in closely packed battalions spread out in a front of some two
hundred men, a formation that Napoleon had not suggested, but did not
countermand. The left column, that of Alix, was supported by cavalry
on its flank. Part of this division gained the orchard of La Haye
Sainte, and attacked the farm buildings on all sides. From his
position hard by a great elm above the farm, Wellington had marked
this onset, and now sent down a Hanoverian battalion to succour their
compatriots; but in the cutting of the main road it was charged and
routed by Milhaud's cuirassiers, who pursued them up the slope until
the rally sounded. Farther to the east, the French seemed still surer
of victory. Bylandt's Dutch-Belgians, some 3,000 strong, after
suffering heavily in their cruelly exposed position, wavered at the
approach of Donzelot's column, and finally broke into utter rout,
pelted in their flight with undeserved gibes from the British in their
rear. These consisted of Picton's division, the heroes of Quatre Bras.
Here they had as yet sustained little loss, thanks to the shelter of
the hollow cross-road and a hedge.

The French columns now topped the ridge, uttering shouts of triumph,
and began to deploy into line for the final charge. This was the time,
as Picton well knew, to pour in a volley and dash on with the cold
steel; but as he cheered on his men, a bullet struck him in the temple
and cut short his brilliant career. His tactics were successful at
some points while at others our thin lines barely held up against the
masses. Certainly no decisive result could have been gained but for
the timely onset of Ponsonby's Union Brigade--the 1st Royal Dragoons,
the Scots Greys, and the Inniskillings.

At the time when Lord Uxbridge gave the order, "Royals and
Inniskillings charge, the Greys support," Alix's division was passing
the cross-road. But as the Royals dashed in, "the head of the column
was seized with a panic, gave us a fire which brought down about
twenty men, then went instantly about and endeavoured to regain the
opposite side of the hedges; but we were upon and amongst them, and
had nothing to do but press them down the slope." So wrote Captain
Clark Kennedy, who sabred the French colour-bearer and captured the
eagle. Equally brilliant was the charge of the Inniskillings, in the
centre of the brigade. They rode down Donzelot's division, jostled its
ranks into a helpless mass, and captured a great number of prisoners.
The Scots Greys, too, succouring the hard-pressed Gordons, fell
fiercely on Marcognet's division. "Both regiments," wrote Major
Winchester of the 92nd, "charged together, calling out 'Scotland for
ever'; the Scots Greys actually walked over this column, and in less
than three minutes it was totally destroyed. The grass field, which
was only an instant before as green and smooth as Phoenix Park, was
covered with killed and wounded, knapsacks, arms, and
accoutrements."[513]

Meanwhile, on the left of the brigade, Vandeleur's horse and some
Dutch-Belgian dragoons drove back Durutte's men past Papelotte. On its
right, the 2nd Life Guards cut up the cuirassiers while disordered by
the sudden dip of the hollow cross-road; and further to the west, the
1st Dragoon Guards and 1st Life Guards met them at the edge of the
plateau, clashed furiously, burst through them, and joined in the wild
charge of Ponsonby's brigade up the opposite slope, cutting the traces
of forty French cannon and sabring the gunners.

But Napoleon was awaiting the moment for revenge, and now sent forward
a solid force of lancers and dragoons, who fell on our disordered
bands with resistless force, stabbing the men and overthrowing their
wearied steeds. Here fell the gallant Ponsonby with hundreds of his
men, and, had not Vandeleur's horse checked the pursuit, very few
could have escaped. Still, this brigade had saved the day. Two of
D'Erlon's columns had gained a hold on the ridge, until the sudden
charge of our horsemen turned victory into a disastrous rout that cost
the French upwards of 5,000 men.

As if exhausted by this eager strife, both armies relaxed their
efforts for a space and re-formed their lines. Wellington ordered
Lambert's brigade of 2,200 Peninsular veterans, who had only arrived
that morning, to fill the gaps on his left. The Emperor, too, was
uneasy, as he showed by taking copious pinches of snuff. He mounted
his horse and rode to the front, receiving there the cheers of his
blood-stained lancers and battered infantry. Having received another
despatch from Grouchy which gave no hope of his speedy arrival, he
ordered his cannon once more to waste the British lines and bombard
Hougoumont, while Ney led two of D'Erlon's brigades that were the
least shaken to resume the attack on La Haye Sainte. Once more they
were foiled at the farm buildings by the hardy Germans, to whom
Wellington had sent a timely reinforcement.[514] At Hougoumont also
the Guards held firm, despite the fierce conflagration in the barn and
part of the chapel. But while his best troops everywhere stood their
ground, the Duke saw with concern the gaps in his fighting line. Many
of the Dutch-Belgians had made off to the rear; and Jackson, when
carrying an order to a reserve Dutch battery to advance--an order that
was disobeyed--saw what had become of these malingerers. "I peeped
into the skirts of the forest and truly felt astonished: entire
companies seemed there with regularly piled arms, fires blazing under
cooking kettles, while the men lay about smoking!"[515]

Far different was the scene at the front. There the third act of the
drama was beginning. After half an hour of the heaviest cannonade ever
known, Wellington's faithful troops were threatened by an avalanche of
cavalry, and promptly fell into the "chequer" disposition previously
arranged for the most exposed division, that of Alten. Napoleon
certainly hoped either to crush Wellington outright by a mighty onset
of horse, or to strip him bare for the _coup de grâce_. At the Caillou
farm in the morning he said: "I will use my powerful artillery; my
cavalry shall charge; and I will advance with my Old Guard." The use
of cavalry on a grand scale was no new thing in his wars. By it he had
won notable advantages, above all at Dresden; and he believed that
footmen, when badly shaken by artillery, could not stand before his
squadrons. The French cavalry, 15,000 strong at the outset, had as yet
suffered little, and the way had been partly cleared by the last
assaults on Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte, where the defenders were
wholly occupied in self-defence.

But Ney certainly pressed the first charge too soon. Doubtless he was
misled by the retirement of our first line a little way behind the
crest to gain some slight shelter from the iron storm. Looking on this
prudent move as a sign of retreat he led forward the cuirassiers of
Milhaud; and as these splendid brigades trotted forward, the
_chasseurs à cheval_ of the Guard and "red" lancers joined them. More
than 5,000 strong, these horsemen rode into the valley, formed at the
foot of the slope, and then, under cover of their artillery, began to
breast the slope. At its crest the guns of the allies opened on them
point-blank; but, despite their horrible losses, they swept on,
charged through the guns and down the reverse slope towards the
squares. Volley after volley now tore through with fearful effect, and
the survivors swerved to the intervals. Their second and third lines
fared little better; astonished at so stout a stand, where they looked
to find only a few last despairing efforts, they fell into faltering
groups.

    "As to the so-called charges," says Basil Jackson, "I do not think
    that on a single occasion actual collision occurred. I many times
    saw the cuirassiers come on with boldness to within some twenty or
    thirty yards of a square, when, seeing the steady firmness of our
    men, they invariably edged away and retired. Sometimes they would
    halt and gaze at the triple row of bayonets, when two or three
    brave officers would advance and strive to urge the attack,
    raising their helmets aloft on their sabres--but all in vain, as
    no efforts could make the men close with the terrible bayonets,
    and meet certain destruction."[516]

After the fire of the rear squares had done its work, our cavalry fell
on the wavering masses; and, as they rode off, the gunners ran forth
from the squares and plied them with shot. In a few minutes the
mounted host that seemed to have swallowed up the footmen was gone,
the red and blue chequers stood forth triumphant, and the guns that
should have been spiked dealt forth death. Down below, the confused
mass shaped itself for a new charge while its supports routed our
horsemen.

In this second attack Ney received a powerful reinforcement. The
Emperor ordered the advance of Kellermann and of Guyot with the heavy
cavalry of the Guard, thus raising the number of horsemen to about
10,000. At the head of these imposing masses Ney again mounted the
slope. But Wellington had strengthened his line by fresh troops,
ordering up also Mercer's battery of six 9-pounders, to support two
Brunswick regiments that wavered ominously as the French cannon-balls
tore through them. Would these bewildered lads stand before the wave
of horsemen already topping the crest? It seemed impossible. But just
then Mercer's men thundered up between them with the guns, took post
behind the raised cross-road, and opened on the galloping horsemen
with case-shot. At once the front was strewn with steeds and men; and
gunners and infantry riddled the successive ranks, that rushed on only
to pile up writhing heaps and bar retreat to the survivors in front.
Some of these sought safety by a dash through the guns, while the
greater number struggled and even laid about with their sabres to hew
their way out of this _battue_.

Elsewhere the British artillery was too exposed to be defended, and
the gunners again fled back to the squares. Once more the cavalry
surrounded our footmen, like "heavy surf breaking on a coast beset
with isolated rocks, against which the mountainous wave dashes with
furious uproar, breaks, divides, and runs hissing and boiling far
beyond." Yet, as before, it failed to break those stubborn blocks, and
a perplexing pause occurred, varied by partial and spasmodic rushes.
"Will those English never show us their backs"--exclaimed the Emperor,
as he strained his eyes to catch the first sign of rout "I fear,"
replied Soult, "they will be cut to pieces first." For the present, it
was the cavalry that gave way. Foiled by that indomitable infantry,
they were again charged by British and German hussars and driven into
the valley.

Once more Ney led on his riders, gathering up all his reserves. But
the Duke had now brought up Adam's brigade and Duplat's King's Germans
to the space behind Hougoumont; their fire took the horsemen in flank:
the blasts of grape and canister were as deadly as before: one and
all, the squares held firm, beating back onset after onset: and by 6
o'clock the French cavalry fell away utterly exhausted.[517]

Who is to be held responsible for these wasteful attacks, and why was
not French infantry at hand to hold the ground which the cavaliers
seemed to have won? Undoubtedly, Ney began the first attack somewhat
too early; but Napoleon himself strengthened the second great charge
by the addition of Kellermann's and Guyot's brigades, doubtless in the
belief that the British, of whose tenacity he had never had direct
personal proof, must give way before so mighty a mass. Moreover, time
after time it seemed that the attacks were triumphant; the allied guns
on the right centre, except Mercer's, were nine or ten times taken,
their front squares as often enveloped; and more than once the cry of
victory was raised by the Emperor's staff.

Why, then, was not the attack clinched by infantry? To understand this
we must review the general situation. Hougoumont still defied the
attacks of nearly the whole of Reille's corps, and the effective part
of D'Erlon's corps was hotly engaged at and near La Haye Sainte. Above
all, the advent of the Prussians on the French right now made itself
felt. After ceaseless toil, in which the soldiers were cheered on by
Blücher in person, their artillery was got across the valley of the
Lasne; and at 4.30 Bülow's vanguard debouched from the wood behind
Frischermont. Lobau's corps of 7,800 men, which, according to Janin,
was about to support Ney, now swung round to the right to check this
advance.[518] Towards 5 o'clock the Prussian cannon opened fire on the
horsemen of Domont and Subervie, who soon fell back on Lobau.

Bülow pressed on with his 30,000 men, and, swinging forward his left
wing, gained a footing in the village of Planchenoit, while Lobau fell
back towards La Belle Alliance. This took place between 5.30 and 6
o'clock, and accounts for Napoleon's lack of attention to the great
cavalry charges. To break the British squares was highly desirable;
but to ward off the Prussians from his rear was an imperative
necessity. He therefore ordered Duhesme with the 4,000 footmen of the
Young Guard to regain Planchenoit. Gallantly they advanced at the
charge, and drove their weary and half-famished opponents out into the
open.

Satisfied with this advantage, the Emperor turned his thoughts to the
British and bade Ney capture La Haye Sainte at all costs. Never was
duty more welcome. Mistakes and failures could now be atoned by
triumph or a soldier's death. Both had as yet eluded his search. Three
horses had been struck to the ground under him, but, dauntless as
ever, he led Donzelot's men, with engineers, against the farm.
Begrimed with smoke, hoarse with shouting, he breathed the lust of
battle into those half-despondent ranks; and this time he succeeded.
For five hours the brave Germans had held out, beating off rush after
rush, until now they had but three or four bullets apiece left. The
ordinary British ammunition did not fit their rifles; and their own
reserve supply could not be found at the rear. Still, even when firing
ceased, bayonet-thrusts and missiles kept off the assailants for a
space, even from the half-destroyed barn-door, until Frenchmen mounted
the roof of the stables and burst through the chief gateway: then
Baring and his brave fellows fled through the house to the garden. "No
pardon to these green devils" was now the cry, and those who could not
make off to the ridge were bayoneted to a man.[519]

This was a grave misfortune for the allies. French sharpshooters now
lined the walls of the farm and pushed up the ridge, pressing our
front very hard, so that, for a time, the space behind La Haye Sainte
was practically bare of defenders. This was the news that Kennedy took
to Wellington. He received it with the calm that bespoke a mighty
soul; for, as Sir A. Frazer observed, however indifferent or
apparently careless he might appear at the beginning of battles, as
the crisis came he rose superior to all that could be imagined. Such
was his demeanour now. Riding to the Brunswickers posted in reserve,
he led them to the post of danger; Kennedy rallied the wrecks of
Alten's division and brought up Germans from the left wing; the
cavalry of Vandeleur and Vivian, moving in from the extreme left, also
helped to steady the centre; and the approach of Chassé's
Dutch-Belgian brigade, lately called in from Braine-la-Leud,
strengthened our supports.

Had Napoleon promptly launched his Old and Middle Guard at
Wellington's centre, victory might still have crowned the French
eagles. But to Ney's request for more troops he returned the petulant
answer: "Troops? where do you want me to get them from? Am I to make
them?" At this time the Prussians were again masters of Planchenoit.
Once more, then, he turned on them, and sent in two battalions, one of
the Old, the other of the Middle Guard. In a single rush with the
bayonet these veterans mastered the place and drove Bülow's men a
quarter of a mile beyond, while Lobau regained ground further north.
But the head of Pirch's corps was near at hand to strengthen Bülow;
while, after long delays caused by miry lanes and an order from
Blücher to make for Planchenoit, Ziethen's corps began to menace the
French right at Smohain. Reiche soon opened fire with sixteen cannon,
somewhat relieving the pressure on Wellington's left.[520]

Still the Emperor was full of hope. He did not know of the approach of
Pirch and Ziethen. Now and again the muttering of Grouchy's guns was
heard on the east, and despite that Marshal's last despatch, Napoleon
still believed that he would come up and catch the Prussians.
Satisfied, then, with holding off Bülow for a while, he staked all on
a last effort with the Old and Middle Guard. Leaving two battalions of
these in Planchenoit, and three near Rossomme as a last reserve, he
led forward nine battalions formed in hollow squares. A thrill ran
through the line regiments, some of whom were falling back, as they
saw the bearskins move forward; and, to revive their spirits, the
Emperor sent on Labédoyère with the news that Grouchy was at hand.

Thus the tension of hope long deferred, which renders Waterloo unique
among battles, rose to its climax. Each side had striven furiously for
eight hours in the belief that the Prussians, or Grouchy, must come;
and now, at the last agony, came the assurance that final triumph was
at hand. The troops of D'Erlon and Reille once more clutched at
victory on the crest behind La Haye Sainte or beneath the walls of
Hougoumont, while the squares of the Guard struck obliquely across the
vale in the track of the great cavalry charges. On the rise south-west
of La Haye Sainte, Napoleon halted one battalion and handed over to
Ney the command of the remaining eight, that hailed him as they passed
with enthusiastic shouts. Two aides-de-camp just then galloped up from
the right to tell him of the Prussian advance, but he refused to
listen to them and bent his eyes on the Guards.[521]

Under cover of a whirlwind of shot the veterans pressed on. Having
suffered very little at Ligny, they numbered fully 4,000, and formed
at first one column, some seventy men in width. The front battalions
headed for a point a little to the west of the present Belgian
monument, while for some unexplained reason the rear portion diverged
to the left, and breasted the slope later than the others and nearer
Hougoumont. Flanked by light guns that opened a brisk fire, and most
gallantly supported by Donzelot's division close on their right, the
leading column struggled on, despite the grape and canister which
poured from the batteries of Bolton and Bean, making it wave "like
corn blown by the wind." Friant, the Commander of the Old Guard, was
severely wounded; Ney's horse fell under him, but the gallant fighter
rose undaunted, and waved on his men anew. And now they streamed over
the ridge and through the British guns in full assurance of triumph.
Few troops seemed to be before them; for Maitland's men (2nd and 3rd
battalions of the 1st Foot Guards) had lain down behind the bank of
the cross-road to get some shelter from the awful cannonade. "Stand
up, Guards, and make ready," exclaimed the Duke when the French were
but sixty paces away. The volley that flashed from their lengthy front
staggered the column, and seemed to force it bodily back. In vain did
the French officers wave their swords and attempt to deploy into line.
Mangled in front by Maitland's brigade, on its flank by our 33rd and
69th Regiments drawn up in square, and by the deadly salvos of
Chassé's Dutch-Belgians,[522] that stately array shrank and shrivelled
up. "Now's the time, my boys," shouted Lord Saltoun; and the thin red
line, closing with the mass, drove it pell-mell down the slope.

Near the foot the victors fell under the fire of the rear portion of
the Imperial Guards, who, undaunted by their comrades' repulse, rolled
majestically upwards. Colborne now wheeled the 52nd (Oxfordshire)
Regiment on the crest in a line nearly parallel to their advance, and
opened a deadly fire on their flank, which was hotly returned;
Maitland's men, re-forming on the crest, gave them a volley in front;
and some Hanoverians at the rear of Hougoumont also galled their rear.
Seizing the favourable moment when the column writhed in anguish,
Colborne cheered his men to the charge, and, aided by the second 95th
Rifles, utterly overthrew the last hope of France. Continuing his
advance, and now supported by the 71st Regiment, he swept our front
clear as far as the orchard of La Haye Sainte.[523]

The Emperor had at first watched the charge with feelings of buoyant
hope; for Friant, who came back wounded, reported that success was
certain. As the truth forced itself on him, he turned pale as a
corpse. "Why! they are in confusion," he exclaimed; "all is lost for
the present." A thrill of agony also shot through the French lines.
Donzelot's onset had at one time staggered Halkett's brigade; but the
hopes aroused by the charge of the Guard and the rumour of Grouchy's
approach gave place to dismay when the veterans fell back and
Ziethen's Prussians debouched from Papelotte. To the cry of "The Guard
gives way," there succeeded shouts of "treason." The Duke, noting the
confusion, waved on his whole line to the longed-for advance. Menaced
in front by the thin red line, and in rear by Colborne's glorious
charge, D'Erlon's divisions broke up in general rout. For a time,
three rocks stood boldly forth above this disastrous ebb. They were
the battalions of the Guard previously repulsed, and that had rallied
around the Emperor on the rise south of La Haye Sainte. In front of
them the three regiments of Adam's brigade stopped to re-form; but at
the Duke's command--"Go on, go on: they will not stand"--Colborne
charged them, and they gave way.

And now, as the sun shot its last gleams over the field, the swords of
the British horsemen were seen to flash and fall with relentless
vigour. The brigades of Vandeleur and Vivian, well husbanded during
the day, had been slipped upon the foe. The effect was electrical. The
retreat became a rout that surged wildly around the last squares of
the Guard. In one of them Napoleon took refuge for a space, still
hoping to effect a rally, while outside Ney rushed from band to band,
brandishing a broken sword, foaming with fury, and launching at the
runaways the taunt, "Cowards! have you forgotten how to die?"[524]

But panic now reigned supreme. Adam's brigade was at hand to support
our horsemen; and shortly after nine there knelled from Planchenoit
the last stroke of doom, the shouts of Prussians at last victorious
over the stubborn defence. "The Guard dies and does not
surrender"--such are the words attributed by some to Michel, by others
to Cambronne before he was stretched senseless on the ground.[525]
Whether spoken or not, some such thought prompted whole companies to
die for the honour of their flag. And their chief, why did he not
share their glorious fate? Gourgaud says that Soult forced him from
the field. If so (and Houssaye discredits the story) Soult never
served his master worse. The only dignified course was to act up to
his recent proclamation that the time had come for every Frenchman of
spirit to conquer or die. To belie those words by an ignominious
flight was to court the worst of sins in French political life,
ridicule.

And the flight was ignominious. Wellington's weary troops, after
several times mistaking friends for foes in the dusk, halted south of
Rossomme and handed over the pursuit to the Prussians, many of whom
had fought but little and now drank deep the draught of revenge. By
the light of the rising moon Gneisenau led on his horsemen in a
pursuit compared with which that of Jena was tame. At Genappe Napoleon
hoped to make a stand: but the place was packed with wagons and
thronged with men struggling to get at the narrow bridge. At the blare
of the Prussian trumpets, the panic became frightful; the Emperor left
his carriage and took to horse as the hurrahs drew near. Seven times
did the French form bivouacs, and seven times were they driven out and
away. At Quatre Bras he once more sought to gather a few troops; but
ere he could do so the Uhlans came on. With tears trickling down his
pallid cheeks, he resumed his flight over another field of carnage,
where ghastly forms glinted on all sides under the pale light of dawn.
After further futile efforts at Charleroi, he hurried on towards
Paris, followed at some distance by groups amounting to about 10,000
men, the sorry remnant still under arms of the host that fought at
Waterloo: 25,000 lay dead or wounded there: some thousands were taken
prisoners: the rest were scattering to their homes. Wellington lost
10,360 killed and wounded, of whom 6,344 were British: the Prussian
loss was about 6,000 men.

The causes of Napoleon's overthrow are not hard to find. The lack of
timely pursuit of Blücher and Wellington on the 17th enabled those
leaders to secure posts of vantage and to form an incisive plan which
he did not fully fathom even at the crisis of the battle. Full of
overweening contempt of Wellington, he began the fight heedlessly and
wastefully. When the Prussians came on, he underrated their strength
and believed to the very end that Grouchy would come up and take them
between two fires. But, in the absence of prompt, clear, and detailed
instructions, that Marshal was left a prey to his fatal notion that
Wavre was the one point to be aimed at and attacked. Despite the heavy
cannonade on the west he persisted in this strange course; while
Napoleon staked everything on a supreme effort against Wellington.
This last was an act of appalling hardihood; but he explained to
Cockburn on the voyage to St. Helena that, still confiding in
Grouchy's approach, he felt no uneasiness at the Prussian movements,
"which were, in fact, already checked, and that he considered the
battle to have been, on the whole, rather in his favour than
otherwise." The explanation has every appearance of sincerity. But
would any other great commander have staked his last reserve and laid
bare his rear solely in reliance on the ability of an almost untried
leader who had sent not a single word that justified the hopes now
placed in him?

We here touch the weak points in Napoleon's intellectual armour.
Gifted with almost superhuman insight and energy himself, he too often
credited his paladins with possessing the same divine afflatus.
Furthermore, he had a supreme contempt for his enemies. Victorious in
a hundred fights over second-rate opponents in his youth, he could not
now school his hardened faculties to the caution needed in a contest
with Wellington, Gneisenau, and Blücher. Only after he had ruined
himself and France did he realize his own errors and the worth of the
allied leaders. During the voyage to England he confessed to Bertrand:
"The Duke of Wellington is fully equal to myself in the management of
an army, _with the advantage of possessing more prudence_."[526]



    NOTE ADDED TO THE FOURTH EDITION.--I have discussed several of the
    vexed questions of the Waterloo Campaign in an Essay, "The
    Prussian Co-operation at Waterloo," in my volume entitled
    "Napoleonic Studies" (George Bell and Sons, 1904). In that Essay I
    have pointed out the inaccuracy or exaggeration of the claims put
    forward by some German writers to the effect that (1) Wellington
    played Blücher false at Ligny, (2) that he did not expect Prussian
    help until late in the day at Waterloo, (3) that the share of
    credit for the victory rested in overwhelming measure with Blücher
    and Gneisenau.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XLI

FROM THE ELYSÉE TO ST. HELENA


Napoleon was far from accepting Waterloo as a final blow. At
Philippeville on the day after the battle, he wrote to his brother
Joseph that he would speedily have 300,000 men ready to defend France:
he would harness his guns with carriage-horses, raise 100,000
conscripts, and arm them with muskets taken from the royalists and
malcontent National Guards: he would arouse Dauphiné, Lyonnais, and
Burgundy, and overwhelm the enemy. "But the people must help me and
not bewilder me.... Write to me what effect this horrible piece of bad
luck has had on the Chamber. I believe the deputies will feel
convinced that their duty in this crowning moment is to rally round me
and save France."[527]

The tenacious will, then, is only bent, not broken. Waterloo is merely
a greater La Rothière, calling for a mightier defensive effort than
that of 1814. Such are his intentions, even when he knows not that
Grouchy is escaping from the Prussians. The letter breathes a firm
resolve. He has no scruples as to the wickedness of spurring on a
wearied people to a conflict with Europe. As yet he forms no
magnanimous resolve to take leave of a nation whom his genius may once
more excite to a fatal frenzy. He still seems unable to conceive of
France happy and prosperous apart from himself. In indissoluble union
they will struggle on and defy the world.

Such was the frame of mind in which he reached the Elysée Palace early
on the 21st of June. For a time he was much agitated. "Oh, my God!" he
exclaimed to Lavalette, raising his eyes to heaven and walking up and
down the room. But after taking a warm bath--his unfailing remedy for
fatigue--he became calm and discussed with the Ministers plans of a
national defence. The more daring advised the prorogation of the
Chambers and the declaration of a state of siege in Paris; but others
demurred to a step that would lead to civil war. The Council dragged
on at great length, the Emperor only once rousing himself from his
weariness to declare that all was not lost; that _he_, and not the
Chambers, could save France. If so, he should have gone to the
deputies, thrilled them with that commanding voice, or dissolved them
at once. Montholon states that this course was recommended by
Cambacérès, Carnot, and Maret, but that most of the Ministers urged
him not to expose his wearied frame to the storms of an excited
assembly. At St. Helena he told Gourgaud that, despite his fatigue, he
would have made the effort had he thought success possible, but he did
not.[528]

The Chamber of Deputies meanwhile was acting with vigour. Agonized by
the tales of disaster already spread abroad by wounded soldiers, it
eagerly assented to Lafayette's proposal to sit in permanence and
declare any attempt at dissolution an act of high treason. So
unblenching a defiance, which recalled the Tennis Court Oath of
twenty-six years before, struck the Emperor almost dumb with
astonishment. Lucien bade him prepare for a _coup d'état_: but
Napoleon saw that the days for such an act were passed. He had
squandered the physical and moral resources bequeathed by the
Revolution. Its armies were mouldering under the soil of Spain,
Russia, Germany, and Belgium; and a decade of reckless ambition had
worn to tatters Rousseau's serviceable theory of a military
dictatorship. Exhausted France was turning away from him to the prime
source of liberty, her representatives.

These were doubtless the thoughts that coursed through his brain as he
paced with Lucien up and down the garden of the Elysée. A crowd of
_fédérés_ and workmen outside cheered him frantically. He saluted them
with a smile; but, says Pasquier, "the expression of his eyes showed
the sadness that filled his soul." True, he might have led that
unthinking rabble against the Chambers; but that would mean civil war,
and from this he shrank. Still Lucien bade him strike. "Dare," he
whispered with Dantonesque terseness. "Alas," replied his brother, "I
have dared only too much already." Davoust also opined that it was too
late now that the deputies had firmly seized the reins and were
protected by the National Guards of Paris.

And so Napoleon let matters drift. In truth, he was "bewildered" by
the disunion of France. It was a France that he knew not, a land given
over to _idéalogues_ and traitors. His own Minister, Fouché, was
working to sap his power, and yet he dared not have him shot! What
wonder that the helpless autocrat paced restlessly to and fro, or sat
as in a dream! In the evening Carnot went to the Peers, Lucien to the
Deputies, to appeal for a united national effort against the
Coalition, but the simple earnestness of the one and the fraternal
fervour of the other alike failed. When Lucien finally exclaimed
against any desertion of Napoleon, Lafayette fiercely shot at him the
long tale of costly sacrifices which France had offered up at the
shrine of Napoleon's glory, and concluded: "We have done enough for
him: our duty is to save _la patrie_."

On the morrow came the news that Grouchy had escaped from the
Prussians; and that the relics of Napoleon's host were rallying at
Laon. But would not this encouragement embolden the Emperor to crush
the contumacious Chambers? Evidently the case was urgent. He must
abdicate, or they would dethrone him--such was the purport of their
message to the Elysée; but, as an act of grace, they allowed him _an
hour_ in which to forestall their action. Shortly after midday, on the
advice of his Ministers, he took the final step of his official
career. Lucien and Carnot begged him for some time to abdicate only in
favour of his son;[529] and he did so, but with the bitter remark: "My
son! What a chimera! No, it is for the Bourbons that I abdicate! They
at least are not prisoners at Vienna."

The deputies were of his opinion. Despite frantic efforts of the
Bonapartists, they passed over Napoleon II. without any effective
recognition, and at once appointed an executive Commission of
five--Carnot, Caulaincourt, Fouché, Grenier, and Quinette. Three of
them were regicides, and Fouché was chosen their President. We can
gauge Napoleon's wrath at seeing matters thus promptly rolled back to
where they were before Brumaire by his biting comment that he had made
way for the King of Rome, not for a Directory which included one
traitor and two babies. His indignation was just. An abdication forced
on by _idéalogues_ was hateful; to be succeeded by Fouché seemed an
unforgivable insult; but he touched the lowest depth of humiliation on
the 25th, when he received from that despicable schemer an order to
leave Paris.

He obeyed on that first Sunday after Waterloo, driving off quietly to
Malmaison, there to be joined by Hortense Beauharnais and a few
faithful friends. At that ill-omened abode, where Josephine had
breathed her last shortly after his first abdication, he spent four
uneasy days. At times he was full of fight. He sent to the "Moniteur"
a proclamation urging the army to make "some efforts more, and the
Coalition will be dissolved." The manifesto was suppressed by Fouché's
orders.

Meanwhile the invaders pressed on rapidly towards Compiègne. They met
with no attempts at a national rising, a fact which proves the welcome
accorded to Napoleon in March to have been mainly the outcome of
military devotion and of the dislike generally felt for the Bourbons.
It is a libel on the French people to suppose that a truly national
impulse in his favour would have vanished with a single defeat. In
vain did the Provisional Government sue for an armistice that would
stay the advance. Wellington refused outright; but Blücher declared
that he would consider the matter if Napoleon were handed over to him,
_dead or alive_. On hearing of this, Wellington at once wrote his ally
a private remonstrance, which drew from Gneisenau a declaration that,
as the Duke was held back _by parliamentary considerations and by the
wish to prolong the life of the villain whose career had extended
England's power_, the Prussians would see to it that Napoleon was
handed over to them for execution conformably to the declaration of
the Congress of Vienna.[530]

But the Provisional Government acted honestly towards Napoleon. On the
26th Fouché sent General Becker to watch over him and advise him to
set out for Rochefort, _en route_ to the United States, for which
purpose passports were being asked from Wellington. Becker found the
ex-Emperor a prey to quickly varying moods. At one time he seemed
"sunk into a kind of _mollesse_, and very careful about his ease and
comfort": he ate hugely at meals: or again he affected a rather coarse
joviality, showing his regard for Becker by pulling his ear. His plans
varied with his moods. He declared he would throw himself into the
middle of France and fight to the end, or that he would take ship at
Rochefort with Bertrand and Savary alone, and steal past the English
squadron; but when Mme. Bertrand exclaimed that this would be cruel to
her, he readily gave up the scheme.[531]

It is not easy to gauge his feelings at this time. Apart from one
outburst to Lavalette of pity for France, he seems not to have
realized how unspeakably disastrous his influence had been on the land
which he found in a victoriously expansive phase, and now left
prostrate at the feet of the allies and the Bourbons. Hatred and
contempt of the upper classes for their "fickle" desertion of him,
these, if we may judge from his frequent allusions to the topic during
the voyage, were the feelings uppermost in his mind; and this may
explain why he wavered between the thought of staking all on a last
effort against the allies and the plan of renewing in America the
career now closed to him in Europe.

He certainly was not a prey to torpor and dumb despair. His brain
still clutched eagerly at public affairs, as if unable to realize that
they had slipped beyond his control; and his behaviour showed that he
was still _un être politique_, with whom power was all in all. He
evinced few signs of deep emotion on bidding farewell to his devoted
followers: but whether this resulted from inner hardness, or
resentment at his fall, or a sense of dignified prudence, it is
impossible to say. When Denon, the designer of his medals, sobbed on
bidding him adieu, he remarked: _Mon cher, ne nous attendrissons pas:
il faut dans les crises comme celle-ci se conduire avec froid_. This
surely was one source of his power over an emotional people: his
feelings were the servant, not the master, of his reason.

Meanwhile the Prussians were drawing near to Paris. Early on the 29th
they were at Argenteuil, and Blücher detached a flying column to seize
the bridge of Chatou over the Seine near Malmaison and carry off
Napoleon on the following night. But Davoust and Fouché warded off the
danger. While the Marshal had the nearest bridges of the Seine
barricaded or burnt, Fouché on the night of the 28th-29th sent an
order to Napoleon to leave at once for Rochefort and set sail with two
frigates, even though the English passports had not arrived.

He received the news calmly, and then with unusual animation requested
Becker to submit to the Government a scheme for rapidly rallying the
troops around Paris, whereupon he, _as General Bonaparte_, would
surprise first Blücher and then Wellington--they were two days'
marches apart: then, after routing the foe, he would resume his
journey to the coast. The Commission would have none of it. The
reports showed that the French troops were so demoralized that success
was not to be hoped for.[532] And if a second Montmirail were snatched
from Blücher, would it bring more of glory to Napoleon or of useless
bloodshed to France? Those who look on the world as an arena for the
exploits of heroes at the cost of ordinary mortals may applaud the
scheme. But could men who were responsible to France regard it as
anything but a final proof of Napoleon's perverse optimism, or a flash
of his unquenchable ambition, or a last mad bid for power? He showed
signs of anger on hearing of their refusal, but set out for Rochefort
at 6 p.m.; and thus the Prussians were cheated of their prey by a few
hours. Bertrand, Savary, Gourgaud, and Becker accompanied him.

The cheers of troops and people at Niort, and again at Rochefort,
where he arrived on July 3rd, re-awakened his fighting instincts; and
as the westerly winds precluded all hope of the two frigates slipping
quickly down either of the practicable outlets so as to elude the
British cruisers, he again sought permission to take command of the
French forces, now beginning to fall back from Paris behind the line
of the Loire. Again his offer was refused; and messages came thick and
fast bidding Becker get him away from the mainland. Such was the
desire of his best friends. Paris capitulated to the allies on July
4th, and both French royalists and Prussians were eager to get hold of
him. Thus, while he sat weaving plans of a campaign on the Loire, the
tottering Government at Paris pressed on his embarkation, hinting that
force would be used should further delays ensue. Sadly, then, on July
8th, he went on board the "Saale," moored near L'Ile d'Aix, opposite
the mouth of the Charente.

He was now in sore straits. The orders from Paris expressly forbade
his setting foot again on the mainland, and most of the great towns
had already hoisted the white flag. In front of him was the Bay of
Biscay, swept by British cruisers, which the French naval officers had
scant hopes of escaping. There was talk among Napoleon's suite, which
now included Montholon, Las Cases, and Lallemand, of attempting flight
from the Gironde, or in the hold of a small Danish sloop then at
Rochefort, or on two fishing boats moored to the north of L'Ile de Ré;
but these plans were given up in consequence of the close watch kept
by our cruisers at all points. The next day brought with it a despatch
from Paris ordering the ex-Emperor to set sail within twenty-four
hours.

On the morrow Napoleon sent Savary and Las Cases with a letter to
H.M.S. "Bellerophon," then cruising off the main channel--that between
the islands of Oléron and Ré--asking whether the permits for
Napoleon's voyage to America had arrived, or his departure would be
prevented. Savary also inquired whether his passage on a merchant-ship
would be stopped. The commander, Captain Maitland, had received strict
orders to intercept Napoleon; but, seeking to gain time and to bring
Admiral Hotham up with other ships, he replied that he would oppose
the frigates by force: neither could he permit Napoleon to set sail on
a merchant-ship until he had the warrant of his admiral for so doing.
The "Bellerophon," "Myrmidon," and "Slaney" now drew closer in to
guard the middle channel, while a corvette watched each of the
difficult outlets on the north and south.[533]

Three days of sorrow and suspense now ensued. On the 12th came the
news of the entry of Louis XVIII. into Paris, the collapse of the
Provisional Government, and the general hoisting of the _fleur-de-lys_
throughout France. On the 13th Joseph Bonaparte came for a last
interview with his brother on the Ile d'Aix. Montholon states that the
ex-King offered to change places with the ex-Emperor and thus allow
him the chance of escaping on a neutral ship from the Gironde.
Gourgaud does not refer to any such offer, nor does Bertrand in his
letter of July 14th to Joseph. In any case, it was not put to the
test; for royalism was rampant on the mainland, and two of our
cruisers hovered about the Gironde. Sadly the two brothers parted, and
for ever. Then the other schemes were again mooted only to be given up
once more; and late on the 13th Napoleon dictated the following
letter, to be taken by Gourgaud to the Prince Regent:

    "Exposed to the factions which distract my country and to the
    enmity of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have closed my
    political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself
    upon the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the
    protection of their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness,
    as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of
    my enemies."[534]

On the 14th Gourgaud and Las Cases took this letter to the
"Bellerophon," whereupon Maitland assured them that he would convey
Napoleon to England, Gourgaud preceding them on the "Slaney"; but that
the ex-Emperor _would be entirely at the disposal of our Government_.
This last was made perfectly clear to Las Cases, who understood
English, though at first he feigned not to do so; but, unfortunately,
Maitland did not exact from him a written acknowledgment of this
understanding. Gourgaud was transferred to the "Slaney," which soon
set sail for Torbay, while Las Cases reported to Napoleon on L'Ile
d'Aix what had happened. Thereupon Bertrand wrote to Maitland that
Napoleon would come on board on the morrow:

    " ... If the Admiral, in consequence of the demand that you have
    addressed to him, sends you the permits for the United States, His
    Majesty will go there with pleasure; but in default of them, he
    will go voluntarily to England as a private individual to enjoy
    the protection of the laws of your country."

Now, either Las Cases misinterpreted Maitland's words and acts, or
Napoleon hoped to impose on the captain by the statements just quoted.
Maitland had not sent to Hotham for permits; he held out no hopes of
Napoleon's going to America; he only promised to take him to England
_to be at the disposal of the Prince Regent_. Napoleon, taking no
notice of the last stipulation, now promised to go to England, not as
Emperor, but as a private individual. He took this step soon after
dawn on the 15th, when any lingering hopes of his escape were ended by
the sight of Admiral Hotham's ship, "Superb," in the offing. On
leaving the French brig, "Epervier," he was greeted with the last
cheers of _Vive l'Empereur_, cheers that died away almost in a wail as
his boat drew near to the "Bellerophon." There he was greeted
respectfully, but without a salute. He wore the green uniform, with
gold and scarlet facings, of a colonel of the Chasseurs à Cheval of
the Guard, with white waistcoat and military boots; and Maitland
thought him "a remarkably strong, well-built man." Keeping up a
cheerful demeanour, he asked a number of questions about the ship, and
requested to be shown round even thus early, while the men were
washing the decks. He inquired whether the "Bellerophon" would have
worsted the two French frigates and acquiesced in Maitland's
affirmative reply. He expressed admiration of all that he saw,
including the portrait of Maitland's wife hanging in the cabin; and
the captain felt the full force of that seductive gift of pleasing,
which was not the least important of the great man's powers.

He was accompanied by General and Mme. Bertrand, the former a tall,
slim, good-looking man, of refined manners and domestic habits, though
of a sensitive and hasty temper; his wife, a lady of slight figure,
but stately carriage, the daughter of a Irishman named Dillon, who
lost his life in the Revolution. Her vivacious manners bespoke a warm
impulsive nature, that had revelled in the splendour of her high
ceremonial station and now seemed strained beyond endurance by the
trials threatening her and her three children. The Bertrands had been
with Napoleon at Elba, and enjoyed his complete confidence. Younger
than they were General (Count) Montholon and his wife--he, a short but
handsome man, his consort, a sweet unassuming woman--who showed their
devotion to the ex-Emperor by exchanging a life of luxury for exile in
his service. Count Las Cases, a small man, whose thin eager face and
furtive glances revealed his bent for intrigue, was the eldest of the
party. He had been a naval officer, had then lived in England as an
_émigré_, but after the Peace of Amiens took civil service under
Napoleon; he now brought with him his son, a lad of fifteen, fresh
from the Lycée. We need not notice the figures of Savary and
Lallemand, as they were soon to part company. Maingaud the surgeon,
Marchand the head valet, several servants, and the bright little boy
of the Montholons completed the list.

The voyage passed without incident. Napoleon's health and appetite
were on the whole excellent, and he suffered less than the rest from
sea-sickness. The delicate Las Cases, who had donned his naval
uniform, was in such distress as to move the mirth of the crew,
whereupon Napoleon sharply bade him appear in plain clothes so as not
to disgrace the French navy. For the great man himself the crew soon
felt a very real regard, witness the final confession of one of them
to Maitland: "Well, they may abuse that man as much as they like, but
if the people of England knew him as well as we do, they would not
hurt a hair of his head."--What a tribute this to the mysterious power
of genius!

On passing Ushant, he remained long upon deck, silent and abstracted,
casting melancholy looks at the land he was never more to see. As they
neared Torbay, the exile was loud in praise of the beauty of the
scene, which he compared with that of Porto Ferrajo. Whatever
misgivings he felt before embarking on the "Bellerophon" had
apparently disappeared. He had been treated with every courtesy and
had met with only one rebuff. He prompted Mme. Bertrand, who spoke
English well, to sound Maitland as to the acceptance of a box
containing his (Napoleon's) portrait set in diamonds. This the captain
very properly refused.[535]

In Torbay troubles began to thicken upon the party. Gourgaud rejoined
them on the 24th: he had not been allowed to land. Orders came on the
26th for the "Bellerophon" to proceed to Plymouth; and the rumour
gained ground that St. Helena would be their destination. It was true.
On July 31st, Sir Henry Bunbury, Secretary to the Admiralty, and Lord
Keith, Admiral in command at Plymouth, laid before him in writing the
decision of our Government, that, in order to prevent any further
disturbance to the peace of Europe, it had been decided to restrain
his liberty--"to whatever extent may be necessary for securing that
first and paramount object"--and that St. Helena would be his place of
residence, as it was healthy, and would admit of a smaller degree of
restraint than might be necessary elsewhere.

Against this he made a lengthy protest, declaring that he was not a
prisoner of war, that he came as a passenger on the "Bellerophon"
"after a previous negotiation with the commander," that he demanded
the rights of a British citizen, and wished to settle in a country
house far from the sea, where he would submit to the surveillance of a
commissioner over his actions and correspondence. St. Helena would
kill him in three months, for he was wont to ride twenty leagues a
day; he preferred death to St. Helena. Maitland's conduct had been a
deliberate snare. To deprive him (Napoleon) of his liberty would be an
eternal disgrace to England; for in coming to our shores he had
offered the Prince Regent the finest page of his history.--Our
officials then bowed and withdrew. He recalled Keith, and when the
latter remarked that to go to St. Helena was better than being sent to
Louis XVIII. or to Russia, the captive exclaimed "Russia! God keep me
from that."[536]

It is unnecessary to traverse his statements at length. The foregoing
recital of facts will have shown that he was completely at the end of
his resources, and that Maitland had not made a single stipulation as
to his reception in England. Indeed, Napoleon never reproached
Maitland; he left that to Las Cases to do; and the captain easily
refuted these insinuations, with the approval of Montholon. If there
was any misunderstanding, it was certainly due to Las Cases.[537]

Indeed, the thought of Napoleon settling dully down in the Midlands is
ludicrous. How could a man who revelled in vast schemes, whose mind
preyed on itself if there were no facts and figures to grind, or
difficulties to overcome, ever sink to the level of a Justice Shallow?
And if he longed for repose, would the Opposition in England and the
malcontents in France have let him rest? Inevitably he would become a
rallying point for all the malcontents of Europe. Besides, our
engagements to the allies bound us to guard him securely; and we were
under few personal obligations to a man who, during the Peace of
Amiens, persistently urged us to drive forth the Bourbons from our
land, who at its close forcibly detained 10,000 Britons in defiance of
the law of nations, and whose ambition added £600,000,000 to our
National Debt.

Ministers had decided on St. Helena by July 28th. Their decision was
clinched by a Memorandum of General Beatson, late Governor of the
island, dated July 29th, recommending St. Helena, because all the
landing places were protected by batteries, and the semaphores
recently placed on the lofty cliffs would enable the approach of a
rescue squadron to be descried sixty miles off, and the news to be
speedily signalled to the Governor's House. Napoleon's appeal and
protests were accordingly passed over; and, in pursuance of advice
just to hand from Castlereagh at Paris, Ministers decided to treat
him, not as our prisoner, but as the prisoner of all the Powers. A
Convention was set in hand as to his detention; it was signed on
August 2nd at Paris, and bound the other Powers to send Commissioners
as witnesses to the safety of the custody.[538]

His departure from Plymouth was hastened by curious incidents. Crowds
of people assembled there to see the great man, and shoals of
boats--Maitland says more than a thousand on fine days--struggled and
jostled to get as near the "Bellerophon" as the guard-boats would
allow. Two or three persons were drowned; but still the swarm pressed
on. Many of the men wore carnations--a hopeful sign this seemed to Las
Cases--and the women waved their handkerchiefs when he appeared on the
poop or at the open gangway. Maitland was warned that a rescue would
be attempted on the night of the 3rd-4th; and certainly the Frenchmen
were very restless at that time. They believed that if Napoleon could
only set foot on shore he must gain the rights of Habeas Corpus.[539]
And there seemed some chance of his gaining them. Very early on August
4th a man came down from London bringing a subpoena from the Court of
King's Bench to compel Lord Keith and Captain Maitland to produce the
person of Napoleon Bonaparte for attendance in London as witness in a
trial for libel then pending. It appears that some one was to be sued
for a libel on a naval officer, censuring his conduct in the West
Indies; and it was suggested that if he (the defendant) could get
Napoleon's evidence to prove that the French ships were at that time
unserviceable, his case would be strengthened. An attorney therefore
came down to Plymouth armed with a subpoena, with which he chased
Keith on land and chased him by sea, until his panting rowers were
foiled by the stout crew of the Admiral's barge. Keith also found
means to let Maitland know how matters stood early on the 4th,
whereupon the "Bellerophon" stood out to sea, her guard-boat keeping
at a distance the importunate man with the writ.

The whole affair looks very suspicious. What defendant in a plain
straightforward case would ever have thought of so far-fetched a
device as that of getting the ex-Emperor to declare on oath that his
warships in the West Indies had been unseaworthy? The tempting thought
that it was a trick of some enterprising journalist in search of "copy
"must also be given up as a glaring anachronism. On the other hand,
it is certain that Napoleon's well-wishers in London and Plymouth were
moving heaven and earth to get him ashore, or delay his
departure.[540] In common with Sieyès, Lavalette, and Las Cases, he
had hoped much from the peculiarities of English law; and on July 28th
he dictated to Las Cases a paper, "suited to serve as a basis to
jurists," which the latter says he managed to send ashore.[541] If
this be true, Napoleon himself may have spurred on his friends to the
effort just described. Or else the plan may have occurred to some of
his English admirers who wished to embarrass the Ministry. If so,
their attempt met with the fate that usually befalls the efforts of
our anti-national cliques on behalf of their foreign heroes: it did
them harm: the authorities acted more promptly than they would
otherwise have done: the "Bellerophon" put to sea a few days before
the Frenchmen expected, with the result that they were exposed to a
disagreeable cruise until the "Northumberland" (the ship destined for
the voyage in place of the glorious old "Bellerophon") was ready to
receive them on board.[542]

Dropping down from Portsmouth, the newer ship met the "Bellerophon"
and "Tonnant," Lord Keith's ship, off the Start. The transhipment took
place on the 7th, under the lee of Berry Head, Torbay. After dictating
a solemn protest against the compulsion put upon him, the ex-Emperor
thanked Maitland for his honourable conduct, spoke of his having hoped
to buy a small estate in England where he might end his days in peace,
and declaimed bitterly against the Government.

Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, of the "Northumberland," then came
by official order to search his baggage and that of his suite, so as
to withdraw any large sums of money that might be thereafter used for
effecting an escape. Savary and Marchand were present while this was
done by Cockburn's secretary with as much delicacy as possible: 4,000
gold Napoleons (80,000 francs) were detained to provide a fund for
part maintenance of the illustrious exile. The diamond necklace which
Hortense had handed to him at Malmaison was at that time concealed on
Las Cases, who continued to keep it as a sacred trust. The
ex-Emperor's attendants were required to give up their swords during
the voyage. Montholon states that when the same request was made by
Keith to Napoleon, the only reply was a flash of anger from his eyes,
under which the Admiral's tall figure shrank away, and his head, white
with years, fell on his breast. Alas, for the attempt at melodrama!
_Maitland was expressly told by Lord Keith not to proffer any such
request to the fallen chief_.

Apart from one or two exclamations that he would commit suicide rather
than go to St. Helena, Napoleon had behaved with a calm and serenity
that contrasted with the peevish gloom of his officers and the spasms
of Mme. Bertrand. This unhappy lady, on learning their fate, raved in
turn against Maitland, Gourgaud, Napoleon, and against her husband for
accompanying him, and ended by trying to throw herself from a window.
From this she was pulled back, whereupon she calmed down and secretly
urged Maitland to write to Lord Keith to prevent Bertrand accompanying
his master. The captain did so, but of course the Admiral declined to
interfere. Her shrill complaints against Napoleon had, however, been
heard on the other side of the thin partition, and fanned the dislike
which Montholon and Gourgaud had conceived for her, and in part for
her husband. These were the officers whom he selected as companions of
exile. Las Cases was to go as secretary, and his son as page.

Savary, Lallemand, and Planat having been proscribed by Louis XVIII.,
were detained by our Government, and subsequently interned at Malta.
On taking leave of Napoleon they showed deep emotion, while he
bestowed the farewell embrace with remarkable composure. The surgeon,
Maingaud, now declined to proceed to St. Helena, alleging that he had
wanted to go to America only because his uncle there was to leave him
a legacy! At the same time Bertrand asked that O'Meara, the surgeon of
the "Bellerophon," might accompany Napoleon to St. Helena. As
Maingaud's excuse was very lame, and O'Meara had had one or two talks
with Napoleon _in Italian_, Keith and Maitland should have seen that
there was some understanding between them; but the Admiral consented
to the proposed change. As to O'Meara's duplicity, we may quote from
Basil Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena": "I _know_ that he [O'Meara]
was _fully enlisted_ for Napoleon's service during the voyage from
Rochefort to England." The sequel will show how disastrous it was to
allow this man to go with the ex-Emperor.

In the Admiral's barge that took him to the "Northumberland" the
ex-Emperor "appeared to be in perfect good humour," says Keith,
"talking of Egypt, St. Helena, of my former name being Elphinstone,
and many other subjects, and joking with the ladies about being
seasick."[543] In this firm matter-of-fact way did Napoleon accept the
extraordinary change in his fortunes. At no time of his life, perhaps,
was he so great as when, forgetting his own headlong fall, he sought
to dispel the smaller griefs of Mmes. Bertrand and Montholon. A hush
came over the crew as Napoleon mounted the side and set foot on the
deck of the ship that was to bear him away to a life of exile. It was
a sight that none could behold unmoved, as the great man uncovered,
received the salute, and said with a firm voice: "Here I am, General,
at your orders."

The scene was rich, not only in personal interest and pathos, but also
in historic import. It marks the end of a cataclysmic epoch and the
dawn of a dreary and confused age. We may picture the Muse of History,
drawn distractedly from her abodes on the banks of the Seine, gazing
in wonder on that event taking place under the lee of Berry Head, her
thoughts flashing back, perchance, to the days when William of Orange
brought his fleet to shore at that same spot and baffled the designs
of the other great ruler of France. The glory of that land is now once
more to be shrouded in gloom. For a time, like an uneasy ghost, Clio
will hover above the scenes of Napoleon's exploits and will find
little to record but promises broken and development arrested by his
unteachable successors.

But the march of Humanity is only clogged: it is not stayed. Ere long
it breaks away into untrodden paths amidst the busy hives of industry
or in the track of the colonizing peoples. The Muse follows in
perplexity: her course at first seems dull and purposeless: her story,
when it bids farewell to Napoleon, suffers a bewildering fall in
dramatic interest: but at length new and varied fields open out to
view. Democracy, embattled for seven sad years by Napoleon against her
sister, Nationality, little by little awakens to a consciousness of
the mistake that has blighted his fortune and hers, and begins to ally
herself with the ill-used champion of the Kings. Industry, starved by
War, regains her strength and goes forth on a career of conquest more
enduring than that of the great warrior. And the peoples that come to
the front are not those of the Latin race, whom his wars have stunted,
but those of the untamable Teutonic stock, the lords of the sea and
the leaders of Central Europe.

       *       *       *       *       *

The treatment of the ex-Emperor henceforth differed widely from that
which had been hastily arranged by the Czar for his sojourn at Elba.
In that case he retained the title of Emperor; he reigned over the
island, and was free to undertake coasting trips. As these generous
arrangements had entailed on Europe the loss of more than 80,000 men
in killed and wounded, it is not surprising that the British Ministers
should now have insisted on far stricter rules, especially as they and
their Commissioner had been branded as accomplices in the former
escape. His comfort and dignity were now subordinated to security. As
the title of Emperor would enable him to claim privileges incompatible
with any measure of surveillance, it was firmly and consistently
denied to him; while he as persistently claimed it, and doubtless for
the same reason. He was now to rank as a General not on active
service; and Cockburn received orders, while treating him with
deference and assigning to him the place of honour at table, to
abstain from any acknowledgment of the imperial dignity. Napoleon soon
put this question to the test by rising from dinner before the others
had finished; but, with the exception of his suite, the others did not
accompany him on deck. At this he was much piqued, as also at seeing
that the officers did not uncover in his presence on the quarter-deck;
but when Cockburn's behaviour in this respect was found to be quietly
consistent, the anger of the exiles began to wear off--or rather it
was thrust down.

One could wish that the conduct of our Government in this matter had
been more chivalrous. It is true that we had only on two occasions
acknowledged the imperial title, namely during the negotiations of
1806 and 1814; and to recognize it after his public outlawry would
have been rather illogical, besides feeding the Bonapartists with
hopes which, in the interests of France, it was well absolutely to
close. Ministers might also urge that he himself had offered to live
in England _as a private individual_, and that his transference to St.
Helena, which allowed of greater personal liberty than could be
accorded in England, did not alter the essential character of his
detention. Nevertheless, their decision is to be regretted. The zeal
of his partisans, far from being quenched, was inflamed by what they
conceived to be a gratuitous insult; and these feelings, artfully
worked upon by tales, medals, and pictures of the modern Prometheus
chained to the rock, had no small share in promoting unrest in France.

Apart from this initial friction, Napoleon's relations to the Admiral
and officers were fairly cordial. He chatted with him at the
dinner-table and during the hour's walk that they afterwards usually
took on the quarter-deck. His conversations showed no signs of despair
or mental lethargy. They ranged over a great variety of topics,
general and personal. He discussed details of navigation and
shipbuilding with a minuteness of knowledge that surprised the men of
the sea.

From his political conversations with Cockburn we may cull the
following remarks. He said that he really meant to invade England in
1803-5, and to dictate terms of peace at London. He stoutly defended
his execution of the Duc d'Enghien, and named none of the paltry
excuses that his admirers were later on to discover for that crime.
Referring to recent events, he inveighed against the French Liberals,
declared that he had humoured the Chambers far too much, and dilated
on the danger of representative institutions on the Continent. However
much a Parliament might suit England, it was, he declared, highly
perilous in Continental States. With respect to the future of France,
he expressed the conviction that, as soon as the armies of occupation
were withdrawn, there would be a general insurrection owing to the
strong military bias of the people and their hatred of the Bourbons,
now again brought back by devastating hordes of foreigners.[544]

This last observation probably explains the general buoyancy of his
bearing. He did not consider the present settlement as final; and
doubtless it was his boundless fund of hope that enabled him to
triumph over the discomforts of the present, which left his companions
morose and snappish. "His spirits are even," wrote Glover, the
Admiral's secretary, at the equator, "and he appears perfectly
unconcerned about his fate."[545] His recreations were chess, which he
played with more vehemence than skill, and games of hazard, especially
_vingt-et-un_: he began to learn "le wisth" from our officers.
Sometimes he and Gourgaud amused themselves by extracting the square
and cube roots of numbers; he also began to learn English from Las
Cases. On some occasions he diverted his male companions with tales of
his adventures, both military and amorous. His interest in the ship
and in the events of the voyage did not flag. When a shark was caught
and hauled up, "Bonaparte with the eagerness of a schoolboy scrambled
on the poop to see it."

His health continued excellent. Despite his avoidance of vegetables
and an excessive consumption of meat, he suffered little from
indigestion, except during a few days of fierce sirocco wind off
Madeira. He breakfasted about 10 on meat and wine, and remained in his
cabin reading, dictating, or learning English, until about 3 p.m.,
when he played games and took exercise preparatory to dinner at 5.
After a full meal, in which he partook by preference of the most
highly dressed dishes of meat, he walked the deck for an hour or more.
On one evening, the Admiral begged to be excused owing to a heavy
equatorial rain-storm; but the ex-Emperor went up as usual, saying
that the rain would not hurt him any more than the sailors; and it did
not. The incident claims some notice: for it proves that, whatever
later writers may say as to his decline of vitality in 1815, he
himself was unaware of it, and braved with impunity a risk that a
vigorous naval officer preferred to avoid. Moreover, the mere fact
that he was able to keep up a heavy meat diet all through the tropics
bespeaks a constitution of exceptional strength, unimpaired as yet by
the internal malady which was to be his doom.

That one element of conviviality was not wanting at meals will appear
from the official return of the consumption of wine at the Admiral's
table by his seven French guests and six British officers: Port, 20
dozen; Claret, 45 dozen; Madeira, 22 dozen; Champagne, 13 dozen;
Sherry, 7 dozen; Malmsey, 5 dozen.[546] The "Peruvian" had been
detached from the squadron to Guernsey to lay in a stock of French
wines specially for the exiles; and 15 dozen of claret--Napoleon's
favourite beverage--were afterwards sent on shore at St. Helena for
his use.

Doubtless the evenness of his health, which surprised Cockburn,
Warden, and O'Meara alike, was largely due to his iron will. He knew
that his exile must be disagreeable, but he had that useful faculty of
encasing himself in the present, which dulls the edge of care.
Besides, his tastes were not so exacting, or his temperament so
volatile, as to shroud him in the gloom that besets weaker natures in
time of trouble. Alas for him, it was far otherwise with his
companions. The impressionable young Gourgaud, the thought-wrinkled
Las Cases, the bright pleasure-loving Montholons, the gloomy Grand
Marshal, Bertrand, and his mercurial consort, over whose face there
often passed "a gleam of distraction"--these were not fashioned for a
life of adversity. Thence came the long spells of _ennui_, broken by
flashes of temper, that marked the voyage and the sojourn at St.
Helena.

The storm-centre was generally Mme. Bertrand; her varying moods, that
proclaimed her Irish-Creole parentage, early brought on her the
hostility of the others, including Napoleon; and as the discovery of
her little plot to prevent Bertrand going to St. Helena gave them a
convenient weapon, the voyage was for her one long struggle against
covert intrigues, thinly veiled sarcasms, sea-sickness, and despair.
At last she has to keep to her cabin, owing to some nervous disorder.
On hearing of this Napoleon remarks that it is better she should
die--such is Gourgaud's report of his words. Unfortunately, she
recovers: after ten days she reappears, receives the congratulations
of the officers in the large cabin where Napoleon is playing chess
with Montholon. He receives her with a stolid stare and goes on with
the game. After a time the Admiral hands her to her seat at the
dinner-table, on the ex-Emperor's left. Still no recognition from her
chief! But the claret bottle that should be in front of him is not
there: she reaches over and hands it to him. Then come the looked-for
words: "Ah! comment se porte madame?"--That is all.[547]

For Bertrand, even in his less amiable moods, Bonaparte ever had the
friendly word that feeds the well-spring of devotion. On the
"Bellerophon," when they hotly differed on a trivial subject, Bertrand
testily replied to his dogmatic statements: "Oh! if you reply in that
manner, there is an end of all argument." Far from taking offence at
this retort, Napoleon soothed him and speedily restored him to good
temper--a good instance of his forbearance to those whom he really
admired.

Certainly the exiles were not happy among themselves. Even the amiable
Mme. Montholon was the cause of one quarrel at table. After leaving
Funchal, Cockburn states that a Roman Catholic priest there has
offered to accompany the ex-Emperor. Napoleon replies in a way that
proves his utter indifference; but the ladies launch out on the
subject of religion. The discussion waxes hot, until the impetuous
Gourgaud shoots out the remark that Montholon is wanting in respect
for his wife. Whereupon the Admiral ends the scene by rising from
table. Sir George Bingham, Colonel of the 53rd Regiment sailing in the
squadron, passes the comment in his diary: "It is not difficult to see
that envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness are firmly rooted in
Napoleon's family, and that their residence in St. Helena will be
rendered very uncomfortable by it."[548]

Intrigues there are of kaleidoscopic complexity, either against the
superior Bertrands or the rising influence of Las Cases. This official
has but yesterday edged his way into the Emperor's inner circle, and
Gourgaud frankly reminds him of the fact: "'If I have come [with the
Emperor] it is because I have followed him for four years, except at
Elba. I have saved his life; and one loves those whom one has
obliged.... But you, sir, he did not know you even by sight: then, why
this great devotion of yours?'--I see around me," he continues, "many
intrigues and deceptions. Poor Gourgaud, _qu'allais-tu faire dans
cette galère_?"[549]

The young aide-de-camp's influence is not allowed to wane for lack of
self-advertisement. Thus, when the battle of Waterloo is mentioned at
table, he at once gives his version of it, and stoutly maintains that,
_whatever Napoleon may say to the contrary_, he (Napoleon) did mistake
the Prussian army for Grouchy's force: and, waxing eloquent on this
theme, he exclaims to his neighbour, Glover, "that at one time he
[Gourgaud] might have taken the Duke of Wellington prisoner, but he
_desisted from it, knowing the effusion of blood it would have
occasioned_."[550]--It is charitable to assume that this utterance was
inspired by some liquid stronger than the alleged "stale water that
had been to India and back."

On the whole, was there ever an odder company of shipmates since the
days of Noah? A cheery solid Admiral, a shadowy Captain Ross who can
navigate but does not open his lips, a talkative creature of the
secretary type, the soldierly Bingham, the graceful courtly
Montholons, the young General who out-gascons the Gascons, the
wire-drawn subtle Las Cases, the melancholy Grand Marshal and his
spasmodic consort--all of them there to guard or cheer that pathetic
central figure, the world's conqueror and world's exile.

Meanwhile France was feeling the results of his recent enterprise.
Enormous armies began to hold her down until the Bourbons, whose
nullity was a pledge for peace, should be firmly re-established.
Blücher, baulked of his wish to shoot Bonaparte, was with difficulty
dissuaded by the protests of Wellington and Louis XVIII. from blowing
up the Pont de Jéna at Paris; and the fierce veteran voiced the
general opinion of Germans, including Metternich, that France must be
partitioned, or at least give back Alsace and Lorraine to the
Fatherland. Even Lord Liverpool, our cautious Premier, wrote on July
15th that, if Bonaparte remained at large, the allies ought to retain
all the northern fortresses as a security.[551] But the knowledge that
the warrior was in our power led our statesmen to bear less hardly on
France. From the outset Wellington sought to bring the allies to
reason, and on August 11th he wrote a despatch that deserves to rank
among his highest titles to fame. While granting that France was still
left "in too great strength for the rest of Europe," he pointed out
that "revolutionary France is more likely to distress the world, than
France, however strong in her frontier, under a regular Government;
and that is the situation in which we ought to endeavour to place
her."

This generous and statesmanlike judgment, consorting with that of the
Czar, prevailed over the German policy of partition; and it was
finally arranged by the Treaty of Paris of November 20th, 1815, that
France should surrender only the frontier strips around Marienburg,
Saarbrücken, Landau, and Chambéry, also paying war indemnities and
restoring to their lawful owners all the works of art of which
Napoleon had rifled the chief cities of the continent. In one respect
these terms were extraordinarily lenient. Great Britain, after bearing
the chief financial strain of the war, might have claimed some of the
French colonies which she restored in 1814, or at least have required
the surrender of the French claims on part of the Newfoundland coast.
Even this last was not done, and alone of the States that had suffered
loss of valuable lives, we exacted no territorial indemnity for the
war of 1815.[552] In truth, our Ministers were content with placing
France and her ancient dynasty in an honourable position, in the hope
that Europe would thus at last find peace; and the forty years of
almost unbroken rest that followed justified their magnanimity.

But there was one condition fundamental to the Treaty of Paris and
essential to the peace of Europe, namely, that Napoleon should be
securely guarded at St. Helena.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XLII

CLOSING YEARS


After a voyage of sixty-seven days the exiles sighted St.
Helena--"that black wart rising out of the ocean," as Surgeon Henry
calls it. Blank dismay laid hold of the more sensitive as they gazed
at those frowning cliffs. What Napoleon's feelings were we know not.
Watchful curiosity seemed to be uppermost; for as they drew near to
Jamestown, he minutely scanned the forts through a glass. Arrangements
having been made for his reception, he landed in the evening of the
17th October, so as to elude the gaze of the inhabitants, and entered
a house prepared for him in the town.

On the morrow he was up at dawn, and rode with Cockburn and Bertrand
to Longwood, the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor. The orders of
our East India Company, to which the island then belonged, forbade his
appropriation of Plantation House, the Governor's residence; and a
glance at the accompanying map will show the reason of this
prohibition. This house is situated not far from creeks that are
completely sheltered from the south-east trade winds, whence escape by
boat would be easy; whereas Longwood is nearer the surf-beaten side
and offers far more security. After conferring with Governor Wilks and
others, Cockburn decided on this residence.

    "At Longwood," wrote Cockburn, "an extent of level ground, easily
    to be secured by sentries, presents itself, perfectly adapted for
    horse exercise, carriage exercise, or for pleasant walking, which
    is not to be met with in all the other parts of the island. The
    house is certainly small; but ... I trust the carpenters of the
    'Northumberland' will in a little time be able to make such
    additions to the house as will render it, if not as good as might
    be wished, yet at least as commodious as necessary."[553]

[Illustration: ST. HELENA]

"Napoleon," wrote Glover, "seemed well satisfied with the situation of
Longwood, and expressed a desire to occupy it as soon as possible." As
he disliked the publicity of the house in Jamestown, Cockburn
suggested on their return that he should reside at a pretty little
bungalow, not far from the town, named "The Briars." He readily
assented, and took up his abode there for seven weeks, occupying a
small adjoining annexe, while Las Cases and his son established
themselves in the two garrets. A marquee was erected to serve as
dining-room. It was a narrow space for the lord of the Tuileries, but
he seems to have been not unhappy. There he dictated Memoranda to Las
Cases or Gourgaud in the mornings, and often joined the neighbouring
family of the Balcombes for dinner and the evening. Mr. Balcombe, an
elderly merchant, was appointed purveyor to the party; he and his wife
were most hospitable, and their two daughters, of fifteen and fourteen
years, frequently beguiled Napoleon's evening hours with games of
whist or naïve questions. On one supreme occasion, in order to please
the younger girl, Napoleon played at blindman's buff; at such times
she ventured to call him "Boney"; and, far from taking offence at this
liberty, he delighted in her glee. It is such episodes as these that
reveal the softer traits of his character, which the dictates of
policy had stunted but not eradicated.[554]

In other respects, the time at "The Briars" was dull and monotonous,
and he complained bitterly to Cockburn of the inadequate
accommodation. The most exciting times were on the arrival of
newspapers from Europe. The reports just to hand of riots in England
and royalist excesses in France fed his hopes of general disorders or
revolutions which might lead to his recall. He believed the Jacobins
would yet lord it over the Continent. "It is only I who can tame
them."

Equally noteworthy are his comments on the trials of Labédoyère and
Ney for their treason to Louis XVIII. He has little pity for them.
"One ought never to break one's word," he remarked to Gourgaud, "and I
despise traitors." On hearing that Labédoyère was condemned to death,
he at first shows more feeling: but he comes round to the former view:
"Labédoyère acted like a man without honour," and "Ney dishonoured
himself."[555]

We may hereby gauge the value which Napoleon laid on fidelity. For him
it is the one priceless virtue. He esteems those who staunchly oppose
him, and seeks to gain them over by generosity: for those who _come
over_ he ever has a secret contempt; for those who desert him, hatred.
Doubtless that is why he heard the news of Ney's execution unmoved.
Brilliantly brave as the Marshal was, he had abandoned him in 1814,
and Louis XVIII. in the Hundred Days. The tidings of Murat's miserable
fate, at the close of his mad expedition to Calabria, leave Napoleon
equally cold.--"I announce the fatal news," writes Gourgaud, "to His
Majesty, whose expression remains unchanged, and who says that Murat
must have been mad to attempt a venture like that."--Here again his
thoughts seem to fly back to Murat's defection in 1814. Later on, he
says he loved him for his brilliant bravery, and therefore pardoned
his numerous follies. But his present demeanour shows that he never
forgave that of 1814.[556]

Meanwhile, thanks to the energy of Cockburn and his sailors, Longwood
was ready for the party (December 9th, 1815), and the Admiral hoped
that their complaints would cease. The new abode contained five rooms
for Napoleon's use, three for the Montholons, two for the Las Cases,
and one for Gourgaud: it was situated on a plateau 1,730 feet above
the sea: the air there was bracing, and on the farther side of the
plain dotted with gum trees stretched the race-course, a mile and a
half of excellent turf. The only obvious drawbacks were the occasional
mists, and the barren precipitous ravines that flank the plateau on
all sides. Seeing, however, that Napoleon disliked the publicity of
Jamestown, the isolation of Longwood could hardly be alleged as a
serious grievance. The Bertrands occupied Hutt's Gate, a small villa
about a mile distant.

The limits within which Napoleon might take exercise unaccompanied by
a British officer formed a roughly triangular space having a
circumference of about twelve miles. Outside of those bounds he must
be so accompanied; and if a strange ship came in sight, he was to
return within bounds. The letters of the whole party must be
supervised by the acting Governor. This is the gist of the official
instructions. Napoleon's dislike of being accompanied by a British
officer led him nearly always to restrict himself to the limits and
generally to the grounds of Longwood.

And where, we may ask, could a less unpleasant place of detention have
been found? In Europe he must inevitably have submitted to far closer
confinement. For what safeguards could there have been proof against a
subtle intellect and a personality whose charm fired thousands of
braves in both hemispheres with the longing to start him once more on
his adventures? The Tower of London, the eyrie of Dumbarton Castle,
even Fort William itself, were named as possible places of detention.
Were they suited to this child of the Mediterranean? He needed sun; he
needed exercise; he needed society. All these he could have on the
plateau of Longwood, in a singularly equable climate, where the heat
of the tropics is assuaged by the south-east trade wind, and plants of
the sub-tropical and temperate zones alike flourish.[557]

But nothing pleased the exiles. They moped during the rains; they
shuddered at the yawning ravines; they groaned at the sight of the
red-coats; above all, they realized that escape was hopeless in face
of Cockburn's watchful care. His first steps on arriving at the island
were to send on to the Cape seventy-five foreigners whose presence was
undesirable. He also despatched the "Peruvian" to hoist the British
flag on the uninhabited island, Ascension, in order, as he wrote to
the Admiralty, "to prevent America or any other nation from planting
themselves [_sic_] there ... for the purpose of favouring sooner or
later the escape of General Bonaparte." Four ships of war were also
kept at St. Helena, and no merchantmen but those of the East India
Company were to touch there except under stress of weather or when in
need of water.

These precautions early provoked protests from the exiles. Bertrand
had no wish to draw them up in the trenchant style that the ex-Emperor
desired; but Gourgaud's "Journal" shows that he was driven on to the
task (November 5th). It only led to a lofty rejoinder from Cockburn,
in which he declined to relax his system, but expressed the wish to
render their situation "as little disagreeable as possible." On
December 21st, Montholon returned to the charge with a letter dictated
by Napoleon, complaining that Longwood was the most barren spot on the
island, always deluged with rain or swathed in mist; that O'Meara was
not to count as a British officer when they went beyond the limits,
and had been reprimanded by the Admiral for thus acting; and that the
treatment of the exiles would excite the indignation of all times and
all people. To this the Admiral sent a crushing rejoinder, declining
to explain why he had censured O'Meara or any other British subject:
he asserted that Longwood was "the most pleasant as well as the most
healthy spot of this most healthful island," expressed the hope that,
when the rains had ceased, the party would change their opinion of
Longwood, and declared that the treatment of the party would "obtain
the admiration of future ages, as well as of every unprejudiced person
of the present."

We now know that the Admiral's trust in the judicial impartiality of
future ages was a piece of touching credulity, and that the next
generation, like his own, was greedily to swallow sensational slander
and to neglect the prosaic truth. But, arguing from present signs, he
might well believe that Montholon's letter was a tissue of falsehoods;
for that officer soon confessed to him that "it was written in a
moment of petulance of the General [Bonaparte] ... and that he
[Montholon] considered the party to be in point of fact vastly well
off and to have everything necessary for them, though anxious that
there should be no restrictions as to the General going unattended by
an officer wherever he pleased throughout the island."[558] On the
last point Cockburn was inflexible.

The Admiral's responsibility was now nearly at an end. On April 14th,
1816, there landed at St. Helena Sir Hudson Lowe, the new Governor,
who was to take over the powers wielded both by Cockburn and Wilks.
The new arrival, on whom the storms of calumny were thenceforth
persistently to beat, had served with distinction in many parts. Born
in 1769, within one month of Napoleon, he early entered our army, and
won his commission by service in Corsica and Elba, his linguistic and
military gifts soon raising him to the command of a corps of Corsican
exiles who after 1795 enlisted in our service. With these "Corsican
Rangers" Lowe campaigned in Egypt and finally at Capri, their devotion
to him nerving them to a gallant but unavailing defence of this islet
against a superior force of Murat's troops in 1808.[559] In 1810 Lowe
and his Corsicans captured the Isle of Santa Maura, which he
thereafter governed to the full satisfaction of the inhabitants. Early
in 1813 he was ordered to Russia, and thereafter served as _attaché_
on Blücher's staff in the memorable advance to the Rhine and the
Seine. He brought the news of Napoleon's first abdication to England,
was knighted by the Prince Regent, and received Russian and Prussian
orders of distinction for his services. At the close of 1814 he was
appointed Quartermaster-General of our forces in the Netherlands and
received flattering letters of congratulation from Blücher and
Gneisenau, the latter expressing his appreciation of "Your rare
military talents, your profound judgment on the great operations of
war, and your imperturbable _sang froid_ in the day of battle. These
rare qualities and your honourable character will link me to you
eternally." In 1822, when O'Meara was slandering Lowe's character, the
Czar Alexander met his step-daughter, the Countess Balmain, at Verona,
and in reference to Sir Hudson's painful duties at St. Helena, said of
him: "Je l'estime beaucoup. Je l'ai connu dans les temps
critiques."[560]

Lowe's firmness of character, command of foreign languages, and
intimate acquaintance with Corsicans, seemed to mark him out as the
ideal Governor of St. Helena in place of the mild and scholarly Wilks.
And yet the appointment was in some ways unfortunate. Though a man of
sterling worth, Lowe was reserved, and had little acquaintance with
the ways of courtiers. Moreover, the superstitious might deem that all
the salient events of his career proclaimed him an evil genius dogging
the steps of Napoleon; and, as superstition laid increasing hold on
the great Corsican in his later years, we may reasonably infer that
this feeling intensified, if it did not create, the repugnance which
he ever manifested to _la figure sinistre_ of the Governor. Lowe also
at first shrank from an appointment that must bring on him the
intrigues of Napoleon and of his partisans in England. Only a man of
high rank and commanding influence could hope to live down such
attacks; and Lowe had neither rank nor influence. He was the son of an
army surgeon, and was almost unknown in the country which for
twenty-eight years he had served abroad.

His first visits to Longwood were unfortunate. Cockburn and he
arranged to go at 9 a.m., the time when Napoleon frequently went for a
drive. On their arrival they were informed that the Emperor was
indisposed and could not see them until 4 p.m. of the next day, and it
soon appeared that the early hour of their call was taken as an act of
rudeness. On the following afternoon Lowe and Cockburn arranged to go
in together to the presence; but as Lowe advanced to the chamber,
Bertrand stepped forward, and a valet prevented the Admiral's
entrance, an act of incivility which Lowe did not observe. Proceeding
alone, the new Governor offered his respects in French; but on
Napoleon remarking that he must know Italian, for he had commanded a
regiment of Corsicans, they conversed in Napoleon's mother-tongue. The
ex-Emperor's first serious observation, which bore on the character of
the Corsicans, was accompanied by a quick searching glance: "They
carry the stiletto: are they not a bad people?"--Lowe saw the snare
and evaded it by the reply: "They do not carry the stiletto, having
abandoned that custom in our service: I was very well satisfied with
them." They then conversed a short time about Egypt and other topics.
Napoleon afterwards contrasted him favourably with Cockburn: "This new
Governor is a man of very few words, but he appears to be a polite
man: however, it is only from a man's conduct for some time that you
can judge of him."[561]

Cockburn was indignant at the slight put upon him by Napoleon and
Bertrand, which succeeded owing to Lowe's want of ready perception;
but he knew that the cause of the exiles' annoyance was his recent
firm refusal to convey Napoleon's letter of complaint direct to the
Prince Regent, without the knowledge of the Ministry. Failing to bend
the Admiral, they then sought to cajole the retiring Governor, Wilks,
who, having borne little of the responsibility of their custody, was
proportionately better liked. First Bertrand, and then Napoleon,
requested him to take this letter _without the knowledge of the new
Governor_. Wilks at once repelled the request, remarking to Bertrand
that such attempts at evasion must lead to greater stringency in the
future. And this was the case.[562] The incident naturally increased
Lowe's suspicion of the ex-Emperor.

At first there was an uneasy truce between them. Gourgaud, though cast
down at the departure of the "adorable" Miss Wilks, found strength
enough to chronicle in his "Journal" the results of a visit paid by
Las Cases to Lowe at Plantation House (April 26th): the Governor
received the secretary very well and put all his library at the
disposal of the party; but the diarist also notes that Napoleon took
amiss the reception of any of his people by the Governor. This had
been one of the unconscious crimes of the Admiral. With the hope of
brightening the sojourn of the exiles, he had given several balls, at
which Mmes. Bertrand and Montholon shone resplendent in dresses that
cast into the shade those of the officers' wives. Their triumph was
short-lived. When _la grande Maréchale_ ventured to desert the
Emperor's table on these and other festive occasions, her growing
fondness for the English drew on her sharp rebukes from the ex-Emperor
and a request not to treat Longwood as if it were an inn.[563] Many
jottings in Gourgaud's diary show that the same policy was thenceforth
strictly maintained. Napoleon kept up the essentials of Tuileries
etiquette, required the attendance of his courtiers, and jealously
checked any familiarity with Plantation House or Jamestown.

On some questions Lowe was more pliable than the home Government,
notably in the matter of the declarations signed by Napoleon's
followers. But in one matter he was proof against all requests from
Longwood: this was the extension of the twelve-mile limit. It
afterwards became the custom to speak as if Lowe could have granted
this. Even the Duke of Wellington declared to Stanhope that he
considered Lowe a stupid man, suspicious and jealous, who might very
well have let Napoleon go freely about the island provided that the
six or seven landing-places were well guarded and that Napoleon showed
himself to a British officer every night and morning. Now, it is
futile to discuss whether such liberty would have enabled Napoleon to
pass off as someone else and so escape. What is certain is that our
Government, believing he could so escape, _imposed rules which Lowe
was not free to relax_.

Napoleon realized this perfectly well, but in the interview of April
30th, 1816, he pressed Lowe for an extension of the limits, saying
that he hated the sight of our soldiers and longed for closer
intercourse with the inhabitants. Other causes of friction occurred,
such as Lowe's withdrawal of the privilege, rather laxly granted by
Cockburn to Bertrand, of granting passes for interviews with Napoleon;
or again a tactless invitation that Lowe sent to "General Bonaparte"
to meet the wife of the Governor-General of India at dinner at
Plantation House. But in the midst of the diatribe which Napoleon
shortly afterwards shot forth at his would-be host--a diatribe
besprinkled with taunts that Lowe was sent to be his
_executioner_--there came a sentence which reveals the cause of his
fury: "If you cannot extend my limits, you can do nothing for
me."[564]

Why this wish for wider limits? It did not spring from a desire for
longer drives; for the plateau offered nearly all the best ground in
the island for such exercise. Neither was it due to a craving for
wider social intercourse. There can be little doubt that he looked on
an extension of limits as a necessary prelude to attempts at escape
and as a means of influencing the slaves at the outlying plantations.
Gourgaud names several instances of gold pieces being given to slaves,
and records the glee shown by his master on once slipping away from
the sentries and the British officer. These feelings and attempts were
perfectly natural on Napoleon's part; but it was equally natural that
the Governor should regard them as part of a plan of escape or
rescue--a matter that will engage our closer attention presently.

Napoleon had only two more interviews with Lowe namely, on July 17th
and August 18th. In the former of these he was more conciliatory; but
in the latter, at which Admiral Sir Pulteney Malcolm was present, he
assailed the Governor with the bitterest taunts. Lowe cut short the
painful scene by saying: "You make me smile, sir." "How smile, sir?"
"You force me to smile: your misconception of my character and the
rudeness of your manners excite my pity. I wish you good day." The
Admiral also retired.[565]

Various causes have been assigned for the hatred that Napoleon felt
for Lowe. His frequents taunts that he was no general, but only a
leader of Corsican deserters, suggests one that has already been
referred to. It has also been suggested that Lowe was not a gentleman,
and references have been approvingly made to comparisons of his
physiognomy with that of the devil, and of his eye with "that of a
hyæna caught in a trap." As to this we will cite the opinion of
Lieutenant (later Colonel) Basil Jackson, who was unknown to Lowe
before 1816, and was on friendly terms with the inmates both of
Longwood and of Plantation House:

    "He [Lowe] stood five feet seven, spare in make, having good
    features, fair hair, and eyebrows overhanging his eyes: his look
    denoted penetration and firmness, his manner rather abrupt, his
    gait quick, his look and general demeanour indicative of energy
    and decision. He wrote or dictated rapidly, and was fond of
    writing, was well read in military history, spoke French and
    Italian with fluency, was warm and steady in his friendships, and
    popular both with the inhabitants of the isle and the troops. His
    portrait, prefixed to Mr. Forsyth's book, is a perfect
    likeness."[566]

If overhanging eyebrows, a penetrating glance, and rather abrupt
manners be thought to justify comparisons with the devil or a hyæna,
the art of historical portraiture will assuredly have to be learnt
over again in conformity with impressionist methods. That Lowe was a
gentleman is affirmed by Mrs. Smith (_née_ Grant), who, in later
years, _when prejudiced against him by O'Meara's slanders_, met him at
Colombo without at first knowing his name:

    "I was taken in to dinner by a grave, particularly gentlemanly
    man, in a General's uniform, whose conversation was as agreeable
    as his manner. He had been over half the world, knew all
    celebrities, and contrived without display to say a great deal one
    was willing to hear.... Years before, with our Whig principles and
    prejudices, we had cultivated in our Highland retirement a horror
    of the great Napoleon's gaoler. The cry of party, the feeling for
    the prisoner, the book of Surgeon O'Meara, had all worked my
    woman's heart to such a pitch of indignation that this maligned
    name [Lowe] was an offence. We were to hold the owner in
    abhorrence. Speak to him, never! Look at him, sit in the same room
    with him, never! None were louder than I, more vehement; yet here
    was I beside my bugbear and perfectly satisfied with my position.
    It was a good lesson."[567]

The real cause of Napoleon's hatred of Lowe is hinted at by Sir George
Bingham in his Diary (April 19th). After mentioning Napoleon's
rudeness to Cockburn on parting with him, he proceeds:

    "You have no idea of the dirty little intrigues of himself
    [Napoleon] and his set: if Sir H. Lowe has firmness enough not to
    give way to them, he will in a short time treat him in the same
    manner. For myself, it is said I am a favourite [of Napoleon],
    though I do not understand the claim I have to such."[568]


Yes! Lowe's offence lay not in his manners, not even in his features,
but in his firmness. Napoleon soon saw that all his efforts to bend
him were in vain. Neither in regard to the Imperial title, nor the
limits, nor the transmission of letters to Europe, would the Governor
swerve a hair's breadth from his instructions. At the risk of giving a
surfeit of quotations, we must cite two more on this topic. Basil
Jackson, when at Paris in 1828, chanced to meet Montholon, and was
invited to his Château de Frémigny; during his stay the conversation
turned upon their sojourn at St. Helena, to the following effect:

    "He [Montholon] enlarged upon what he termed _la politique de
    Longwood_, spoke not unkindly of Sir Hudson Lowe, allowing he had
    a difficult task to execute, since an angel from Heaven, as
    Governor, could not have pleased them. When I more than hinted
    that nothing could justify detraction and departure from truth in
    carrying out a policy, he merely shrugged his shoulders and
    reiterated: '_C'était notre politique; et que voulez-vous?_' That
    he and the others respected Sir Hudson Lowe, I had not the shadow
    of a doubt: nay, in a conversation with Montholon at St. Helena,
    when speaking of the Governor, he observed that Sir Hudson was an
    officer who would always have distinguished employment, as all
    Governments were glad of the services of a man of his calibre.

    "Happening to mention that, owing to his inability to find an
    officer who could understand and speak French, the Governor was
    disposed to employ me as orderly officer at Longwood, Montholon
    said it was well for me that I was not appointed to the post, as
    they did not want a person in that capacity who could understand
    them; in fact, he said, we should have found means to get rid of
    you, and perhaps ruined you."[569]


Las Cases also, _in a passage that he found it desirable to suppress
when he published his "Journal"_ wrote as follows (November 30th,
1815):

    "We are possessed of moral arms only: and in order to make the
    most advantageous use of these it was necessary to reduce into _a
    system_ our demeanour, our words, our sentiments, _even our
    privations_, in order that we might thereby excite a lively
    interest in a large portion of the population of Europe, and that
    the Opposition in England might not fail to attack the Ministry on
    the violence of their conduct towards us."[570]

We are now able to understand the real nature of the struggle that
went on between Longwood and Plantation House. Napoleon and his
followers sought by every means to bring odium upon Lowe, and to
furnish the Opposition at Westminster with toothsome details that
might lead to the disgrace of the Governor, the overthrow of the
Ministry, and the triumphant release of the ex-Emperor. On the other
hand, the knowledge of the presence of traitors on the island, and of
possible rescuers hovering about on the horizon, kept Lowe ever at
work "unravelling the intricate plotting constantly going on at
Longwood," until his face wore the preoccupied worried look that
Surgeon Henry describes.

That both antagonists somewhat overacted their parts does not surprise
us when we think of the five years thus spent within a narrow space
and under a tropical sun. Lowe was at times pedantic, witness his
refusal to forward to Longwood books inscribed to the "Emperor
Napoleon," and his suspicions as to the political significance of
green and white beans offered by Montholon to the French Commissioner,
Montchenu. But such incidents can be paralleled from the lives of most
officials who bear a heavy burden of responsibility. And who has ever
borne a heavier burden?[571]

Napoleon also, in his calmer moods, regretted the violence of his
language to the Governor. He remarked to Montholon: "This is the
second time in my life that I have spoilt my affairs with the English.
Their phlegm leads me on, and I say more than I ought. I should have
done better not to have replied to him." This reference to his attack
on Whitworth in 1803 flashes a ray of light on the diatribe against
Lowe. In both cases, doubtless, the hot southron would have bridled
his passion sooner, had it produced any visible effect on the colder
man of the north. Nevertheless, the scene of August 18th, 1816, had an
abiding influence on his relations with the Governor. For the rest of
that weary span of years they never exchanged a word.

Lowe's official reports prove that he did not cease to consult the
comfort of the exiles as far as it was possible. The building of the
new house, however, remained in abeyance, as Napoleon refused to give
any directions on the subject: and the much-needed repairs to Longwood
were stopped owing to his complaints of the noise of the workmen. But
by ordering the claret that the ex-Emperor preferred, and by sending
occasional presents of game to Longwood, Lowe sought to keep up the
ordinary civilities of life; and when the home Government sought to
limit the annual cost of the Longwood household to £8,000, Lowe took
upon himself to increase that sum by one half.

Napoleon's behaviour in this last affair is noteworthy. On hearing of
the need for greater economy, he readily assented, sent away seven
servants, and ordered a reduction in the consumption of wine. A day or
two later, however, he gave orders that some of his silver plate
should be sold in order "to provide those little comforts denied
them." Balcombe was accordingly sent for, and, on expressing regret to
Napoleon at the order for sale, received the reply: "_What is the use
of plate when you have nothing to eat off it?_" Lowe quietly directed
Balcombe to seal up the plate sent to him, and to advance money up to
its value (£250); but other portions of the plate were broken and sold
later on. O'Meara reveals the reason for these proceedings in his
letter of October 10th: "In this he [Napoleon] has also a wish to
excite odium against the Governor by saying that he has been obliged
to sell his plate in order to provide against starvation, _as he
himself told me was his object_."[572]

Another incident that embittered the relations between Napoleon and
the Governor was the arrival from England of more stringent
regulations for his custody. The chief changes thus brought about
(October 9th, 1816) were a restriction of the limits from a
twelve-mile to an eight-mile circumference and the posting of a ring
of sentries at a slight distance from Longwood at sunset instead of at
9 p.m.[573] The latter change is to be regretted; for it marred the
pleasure of Napoleon's evening strolls in his garden; but, as the
Governor pointed out, the three hours after sunset had been the
easiest time for escape. The restriction of limits was needful, not
only in order to save our troops the labour of watching a wide area
that was scarcely ever used for exercise, but also to prevent
underhand intercourse with slaves.

Was there really any need for these "nation-degrading" rules, as
O'Meara called them? Or were they imposed in order to insult the great
man? A reference to the British archives will show that there was some
reason for them. Schemes of rescue were afoot that called for the
greatest vigilance.

As we have seen (page 527, note), a letter had on August 2nd, 1815,
been directed to Mme. Bertrand (really for Napoleon) at Plymouth,
stating that the writer had placed sums of money with well-known firms
of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charlestown on his behalf, and
that he (Napoleon) had only to make known his wishes "_avec le thé de
la Chine ou les mousselines de l'Inde_": for the rest, the writer
hoped much from English merchantmen. This letter, after wide
wanderings, fell into our hands and caused our Government closely to
inspect all letters and merchandise that passed into, or out of, St.
Helena. Its attention was directed specially to the United States.
There the Napoleonic cult had early taken root, thanks to his
overthrow of the kings and his easy sale of Louisiana; the glorifying
haze of distance fostered its growth; and now the martyrdom of St.
Helena brought it to full maturity. Enthusiasm and money alike
favoured schemes of rescue.

In our St. Helena Records (No. 4) are reports as to two of them.
Forwarded by the Spanish Ambassador at Washington, the first reached
Madrid on May 9th, 1816, and stated that a man named Carpenter had
offered to Joseph Bonaparte (then in the States) to rescue Napoleon,
and had set sail on a ship for that purpose. This was at once made
known to Lord Bathurst, our Minister for War and the Plantations, who
forwarded it to Lowe. In August of that year our Foreign Office also
received news that four schooners and other smaller vessels had set
sail from Baltimore on June 14th with 300 men under an old French
naval officer, named Fournier, ostensibly to help Bolivar, but really
to rescue Bonaparte. These fast-sailing craft were to lie out of sight
of the island by day, creep up at night to different points, and send
boats to shore; from each of these a man, _in English uniform_, was to
land and proceed to Longwood, warning Napoleon of the points where the
boats would be ready to receive him. The report concludes:
"Considerable sums in gold and diamonds will be put at his disposal to
bribe those who may be necessary to him. They seem to flatter
themselves of a certain co-operation on the part of certain
individuals domiciled or employed at St. Helena."[574]

Bathurst sent on to Lowe a copy of this intelligence. Forsyth does not
name the affair, though he refers to other warnings, received at
various times by Bathurst and forwarded to the Governor, that there
were traitors in the island who had been won over by Napoleon's gold
to aid his escape.[575] I cannot find out that the plans described
above were put to the test, though suspicious vessels sometimes
appeared and were chased away by our cruisers. But when we are
considering the question whether Bathurst and Lowe were needlessly
strict or not, the point at issue is _whether plans of escape or
rescue existed, and if so, whether they knew of them_. As to this
there cannot be the shadow of doubt; and it is practically certain
that they were the cause of the new regulations of October 9th, 1816.

We have now traced the course of events during the first critical
twelvemonth; we have seen how friction burst into a flame, how the
chafing of that masterful spirit against all restraint served but to
tighten the inclosing grasp, and how the attempts of his misguided
friends in America and Europe changed a fairly lax detention into
actual custody. It is a vain thing to toy with the "might-have-beens"
of history; but we can fancy a man less untamable than Napoleon
frankly recognizing that he had done with active life by assuming a
feigned name (_e.g._, that of Colonel Muiron, which he once thought
of) and settling down in that equable retreat to the congenial task of
compiling his personal and military Memoirs. If he ever intended to
live as a country squire in England, there were equal facilities for
such a life in St. Helena, with no temptations to stray back into
politics. The climate was better for him than that of England, and the
possibilities for exercise greater than could there have been allowed.
Books there were in abundance--2,700 of them at last: he had back
files of the "Moniteur" for his writings, and copies of "The Times"
came regularly from Plantation House: a piano had been bought in
England for £120. Finally there were the six courtiers whose jealous
devotion, varying moods, and frequent quarrels furnished a daily
comedietta that still charms posterity.

What then was wanting? Unfortunately everything was wanting. He cared
not for music, or animals, or, in recent years, for the chase. He
himself divulged the secret, in words uttered to Gallois in the days
of his power: "_Je n'aime pas beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu--enfin
rien: je suis tout à fait un être politique!_"--He never ceased to
love politics and power. At St. Helena he pictured himself as winning
over the English, had he settled there. Ah! if I were in England, he
said, I should have conquered all hearts.[576] And assuredly he would
have done so. How could men so commonplace as the Prince Regent,
Liverpool, Castlereagh, and Bathurst have made head against the
influence of a truly great and enthralling personality? Or if he had
gone to the United States, who would have competed with him for the
Presidency?

As it was, he chose to remain indoors, in order to figure as the
prisoner of Longwood,[577] and spent his time between intrigues
against Lowe and dictation of Memoirs. On the subject of Napoleon's
writings we cannot here enter, save to say that his critiques of
Cæsar, Turenne, and Frederick the Great, are of great interest and
value; that the records of his own campaigns, though highly
suggestive, need to be closely checked by the original documents,
seeing that he had not all the needful facts and figures at hand; and
that his record of political events is in the main untrustworthy: it
is an elaborate device for enhancing the Napoleonic tradition and
assuring the crown to the King of Rome.

We turn, then, to take a brief glance at his last years. The first
event that claims notice is the arrest of Las Cases. This subtle
intriguer had soon earned the hatred of Montholon and Gourgaud, who
detested "the little Jesuit" for his Malvolio-like airs of importance
and the hints of Napoleon that he would have ceremonial precedence
over them. His rapid rise into favour was due to his conversational
gifts, literary ability, and thorough knowledge of the English people
and language. This last was specially important. Napoleon very much
wished to learn our language, as he hoped that any mail might bring
news of the triumph of the Whigs and an order for his own departure
for England. His studies with Las Cases were more persevering than
successful, as will be seen from the following curious letter, written
apparently in the watches of the night: it has been recently
re-published by M. de Brotonne.

    "COUNT LASCASES,

    "Since sixt week y learn the English and y do not any progress.
    Sixt week do fourty and two day. If might have learn fivty word,
    for day, i could know it two thousands and two hundred. It is in
    the dictionary more of fourty thousand: even he could most twenty;
    bot much of tems. For know it or hundred and twenty week, which do
    more two years. After this you shall agree that the study one
    tongue is a great labour who it must do into the young aged."

How much farther Napoleon progressed in his efforts to absorb our
language by these mathematical methods we do not know; for no other
English letter of his seems to be extant. The arrest and departure of
his tutor soon occurred, and there are good grounds for assigning this
ultimately to the jealousy of the less cultured Generals. Thus, we
find Gourgaud asserting that Las Cases has come to St. Helena solely
"in order to get talked about, write anecdotes, and make money."
Montholon also did his best to render the secretary's life miserable,
and on one occasion predicted to Gourgaud that Las Cases would soon
leave the island.[578]

The forecast speedily came true. The secretary intrusted to his
servant, a dubious mulatto named Scott, two letters for Europe sewn up
in a waistcoat: one of them was a long letter to Lucien Bonaparte. The
servant showed the letters to his father, who in some alarm revealed
the matter to the Governor. It is curious as illustrating the state of
suspicion then prevalent at St. Helena, that Las Cases accused the
Scotts of being tools of the Governor; that Lowe saw in the affair the
frayed end of a Longwood scheme; while the residents there suspected
Las Cases of arranging matters as a means of departure from the
island. There was much to justify this last surmise. Las Cases and his
son were unwell; their position in the household was very
uncomfortable; and for a skilled intriguer to intrust an important
letter to a slave, who was already in the Governor's black books, was
truly a singular proceeding. Besides, after the arrest, when the
Governor searched Las Cases' papers in his presence, they were found
to be in good order, among them being parts of his "Journal." Napoleon
himself thought Las Cases guilty of a piece of extraordinary folly,
though he soon sought to make capital out of the arrest by comparing
the behaviour of our officers and their orderlies with "South Sea
savages dancing around a prisoner that they are about to devour."[579]
After a short detention at Ross Cottage, _when he declined the
Governor's offer that he should return to Longwood_, the secretary was
sent to the Cape, and thence made his way to France, where a judicious
editing of his "Memoirs" and "Journal" gained for their compiler a
rich reward.

Gourgaud is the next to leave. The sensitive young man has long been
tormented by jealousy. His diary becomes the long-drawn sigh of a
generous but vain nature, when soured by real or fancied neglect.
Though often unfair to Napoleon, whose egotism the slighted devotee
often magnifies into colossal proportions, the writer unconsciously
bears witness to the wondrous fascination that held the little Court
in awe. The least attention shown to the Montholons costs "Gogo" a fit
of spleen or a sleepless night, scarcely to be atoned for on the
morrow by soothing words, by chess, or reversi, or help at the
manuscript of "Waterloo." Again and again Napoleon tries to prove to
him that the Montholons ought to have precedence: it is in vain. At
last the crisis comes: it is four years since the General saved the
Emperor from a Cossack's lance at Brienne, and the recollection
renders his present "humiliations" intolerable. He challenges
Montholon to a duel; Napoleon strictly forbids it; and the aggrieved
officer seeks permission to depart.

Napoleon grants his request. It seems that the chief is weary of his
moody humours; he further owes him a grudge for writing home to his
mother frank statements of the way in which the Longwood exiles are
treated. These letters were read by Lowe and Bathurst, and their
general purport seems to have been known in French governmental
circles, where they served as an antidote to the poisonous stories
circulated by Napoleon and his more diplomatic followers. Clearly
nothing is to be made of Gourgaud; and so he departs (February 13th,
1818). Bidding a tearful adieu, he goes with Basil Jackson to spend
six weeks with him at a cottage near Plantation House, when he is
astonished at the delicate reserve shown by the Governor. He then sets
sail for England. The only money he has is _£100_ advanced by Lowe.
Napoleon's money he has refused to accept.[580]

And yet he did not pass out of his master's life. Landing in England
on May 1st, he had a few interviews with our officials, in which he
warned them that Napoleon's escape would be quite easy, and gave a
hint as to O'Meara being the tool of Napoleon. But soon the young
General came into touch with the leaders of the Opposition. No change
in his sentiments is traceable until August 25th, when he indited a
letter to Marie Louise, asserting that Napoleon was dying "in the
torments of the longest and most frightful agony," a prey to the
cruelty of England! To what are we to attribute this change of front?
The editors of Gourgaud's "Journal" maintain that there was no change;
they hint that the "Journal" may have been an elaborate device for
throwing dust into Lowe's eyes; and they point to the fact that before
leaving the island Gourgaud received secret instructions from Napoleon
bidding him convey to Europe several small letters sewn into the soles
of his boots. Whether he acted on these instructions may be doubted;
for at his departure he gave his word of honour to Lowe that he was
not the bearer of any paper, pamphlet, or letter from Longwood.
Furthermore, we hear nothing of these secret letters afterwards; and
he allowed nearly four months to elapse in England before he wrote to
Marie Louise. The theory referred to above seems quite untenable in
face of these facts.[581]

How, then, are we to explain Gourgaud's conduct at St. Helena and
afterwards? Now, in threading the mendacious labyrinths of St. Helena
literature it is hard ever to find a wholly satisfactory clue; but
Basil Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena" (p. 103) seems to supply it
in the following passage:

    "To finish about Gourgaud, I may add that on his reaching England,
    after one or two interviews with the Under-Secretary of State, he
    fell into the hands of certain Radicals of note, who represented
    to him the folly of his conduct in turning against Napoleon; that,
    as his adherent, he was really somebody, whereas he was only
    ruining himself by appearing inimical. In short, they so worked
    upon the poor weak man, that he was induced to try and make it
    appear that he was still _l'homme de l'Empereur:_ this he did by
    inditing a letter to Marie Louise, in which he inveighed against
    the treatment of Napoleon at the hands of the Government and Sir
    H. Lowe, which being duly published, Gourgaud fell to zero in the
    opinion of all right-minded persons."

This seems consonant with what we know of Gourgaud's character: frank,
volatile, and sensitive, he could never have long sustained a policy
of literary and diplomatic deceit. He was not a compound of Chatterton
and Fouché. His "Journal" is the artless outpouring of wounded vanity
and brings us close to the heart of the hero-worshipper and his hero.
At times the idol falls and is shivered but love places it on the
shrine again and again, until the fourth anniversary of Brienne finds
the spell broken. Even before he leaves St. Helena the old fascination
is upon him once more; and then Napoleon seeks to utilize his devotion
for the purpose of a political mission. Gourgaud declines the _rôle_
of agent, pledges his word to the Governor, and keeps it; but, thanks
to British officialism or the seductions of the Opposition,
hero-worship once more gains the day and enrolls him beside Las Cases
and Montholon. This we believe to be the real Gourgaud, a genuine,
lovable, but flighty being, as every page of his "Journal" shows.

One cannot but notice in passing the extraordinary richness of St.
Helena literature. Nearly all the exiles kept diaries or memoirs, or
wrote them when they returned to Europe. And, on the other hand, of
all the 10,000 Britons whom Napoleon detained in France for eleven
years, not one has left a record that is ever read to-day.
Consequently, while the woes of Napoleon have been set forth in every
civilized tongue, the world has forgotten the miseries causelessly
inflicted on 10,000 English families. The advantages possessed by a
memoir-writing nation over one that is but half articulate could not
be better illustrated. For the dumb Britons not a single tear is ever
shed; whereas the voluble inmates of Longwood used their pens to such
effect that half the world still believes them to have been bullied
twice a week by Lowe, plied with gifts of poisoned coffee, and nearly
eaten up by rats at night. On this last topic we are treated to tales
of part of a slave's leg being eaten off while he slept at
Longwood--nay, of a horse's leg also being gnawed away at night--so
that our feelings are divided between pity for the sufferers and envy
at the soundness of their slumbers.

Longwood was certainly far from being a suitable abode; but a word
from Napoleon would have led to the erection of the new house on a
site that he chose to indicate. The materials had all been brought
from England; but the word was not spoken until a much later time; and
the inference is inevitable that he preferred to remain where he was
so that he could represent himself as lodged in _cette grange
insalubre._[582] The third of the Longwood household to depart was the
surgeon, O'Meara. The conduct of this British officer in facilitating
Napoleon's secret correspondence has been so fully exposed by Forsyth
and Seaton that we may refer our readers to their works for proofs of
his treachery. Gourgaud's "Journal" reveals the secret influence that
seduced him. Chancing once to refer to the power of money over
Englishmen, Napoleon remarked that that was why we did not want him to
draw sums from Europe, and continued: "_Le docteur n'est si bien pour
moi que depuis que je lui donne mon argent. Ah! j'en suis bien sûr, de
celui-là!"_[583] This disclosure enables us to understand why the
surgeon, after being found out and dismissed from the service, sought
to blacken the character of Sir Hudson Lowe by every conceivable
device. The wonder is that he succeeded in imposing his version of
facts on a whole generation.

The next physician who resided at Longwood, Dr. Stokoe, was speedily
cajoled into disobeying the British regulations and underwent official
disgrace. An attempt was then made, through Montholon, to bribe his
successor, Dr. Verling, who indignantly repelled it and withdrew from
his duty.[584]

There can be no doubt that Napoleon found pleasure in these intrigues.
In his last interview with Stürmer, the Austrian Commissioner at St.
Helena, Gourgaud said, in reference to this topic: "However unhappy he
[Napoleon] is here, he secretly enjoys the importance attached to his
custody, the interest that the Powers take in it, and the care taken
to collect his least words." Napoleon also once remarked to Gourgaud
that it was better to be at St. Helena than as he was at Elba.[585] Of
the same general tenour are his striking remarks, reported by Las
Cases at the close of his first volume:

    "Our situation here may even have its attractions. The universe is
    looking at us. We remain the martyrs of an immortal cause:
    millions of men weep for us, the fatherland sighs, and Glory is in
    mourning. We struggle here against the oppression of the gods, and
    the longings of the nations are for us.... Adversity was wanting
    to my career. If I had died on the throne amidst the clouds of my
    omnipotence, I should have remained a problem for many men:
    to-day, thanks to misfortune, they can judge of me naked as I am."

In terseness of phrase, vividness of fancy, and keenness of insight
into the motives that sway mankind, this passage is worthy of
Napoleon. He knew that his exile at St. Helena would dull the memory
of the wrongs which he had done to the cause of liberty, and that from
that lonely peak would go forth the legend of the new Prometheus
chained to the rock by the kings and torn every day by the ravening
vulture. The world had rejected his gospel of force; but would it not
thrill responsive to the gospel of pity now to be enlisted in his
behalf? His surmise was amazingly true. The world was thrilled. The
story worked wonders, not directly for him, but for his fame and his
dynasty. The fortunes of his race began to revive from the time when
the popular imagination transfigured Napoleon the Conqueror into
Napoleon the Martyr. Viewed in this light, and thrown up into telling
relief against the sinister policy of the Holy Alliance of the
monarchs, the dreary years spent at St. Helena were not the least
successful of his career. Without them there could have been no second
Napoleonic Empire.

Not that his life there was a "long-drawn agony." His health was
fairly good. There were seasons of something like enjoyment, when he
gave himself up to outdoor recreations. Such a time was the latter
part of 1819 and the first half of 1820: we may call it the Indian
summer of his life, for he was then possessed with a passion for
gardening. Lightly clad and protected by a broad-brimmed hat, he went
about, sometimes spade in hand, superintending various changes in the
grounds at Longwood and around the new house which was being erected
for him hard by. Or at other times he used the opportunity afforded by
the excavations to show how infantry might be so disposed on a hastily
raised slope as to bring a terrific fire to bear on attacking cavalry.
Marshalling his followers at dawn by the sound of a bell, he made them
all, counts, valets, and servants, dig trenches as if for the front
ranks, and throw up the earth for the rear ranks: then, taking his
stand in front, as the shortest man, and placing the tallest at the
rear (his Swiss valet, Noverraz), he triumphantly showed how the
horsemen might be laid low by the rolling volleys of ten ranks.[586]
In May or June he took once more to horse exercise, and for a time his
health benefited from all this activity. His relations with the
Governor were peaceful, if not cordial, and the limits were about this
time extended.

Indoors there were recreations other than work at the Memoirs. He
often played chess and billiards, at the latter using his hand instead
of the cue! Dinner was generally at a very late hour, and afterwards
he took pleasure in reading aloud. Voltaire was the favourite author,
and Montholon afterwards confessed to Lord Holland that the same
plays, especially "Zaïre," were read rather too often.

    "Napoleon slept himself when read to, but he was very observant
    and jealous if others slept while he read. He watched his audience
    vigilantly, and _'Mme. Montholon, vous dormez'_ was a frequent
    ejaculation in the course of reading. He was animated with all
    that he read, especially poetry, enthusiastic at beautiful
    passages, impatient of faults, and full of ingenious and lively
    remarks on style."[587]

During this same halcyon season two priests, who had been selected by
the Bonapartes, arrived in the island, as also a Corsican doctor,
Antommarchi. Napoleon was disappointed with all three. The doctor,
though a learned anatomist, knew little of chemistry, and at an early
interview with Napoleon passed a catechism on this subject so badly
that he was all but chased from the room. The priests came off little
better. The elder of them, Buonavita by name, had lived in Mexico, and
could talk of little else: he soon fell ill, and his stay in St.
Helena was short. The other, a Corsican named Vignali, having neither
learning, culture, nor dialectical skill, was tolerated as a
respectable adjunct to the household, but had little or no influence
over the master. This is to be regretted on many grounds, and partly
because his testimony throws no light on Napoleon's religious views.

Here we approach a problem that perhaps can never be cleared up.
Unfathomable on many sides of his nature, Napoleon is nowhere more so
than when he confronts the eternal verities. That he was a convinced
and orthodox Catholic few will venture to assert. At Elba he said to
Lord Ebrington: "_Nous ne savons d'où nous venons, ce que nous
deviendrons_": the masses ought to have some "fixed point of faith
whereon to rest their thoughts."--"_Je suis Catholique parce que mon
père l'étoit, et parce que c'étoit la religion de la France_." He also
once or twice expressed to Campbell scorn of the popular creed: and
during his last voyage, as we have seen, he showed not the slightest
interest in the offer of a priest at Funchal to accompany him. At St.
Helena the party seems to have limited the observances of religion to
occasional reading of the Bible. When Mme. Montholon presented her
babe to the Emperor, he teasingly remarked that Las Cases was the most
suitable person to christen the infant; to which the mother at once
replied that Las Cases was not a good enough Christian for that.

Judging from the entries in Gourgaud's "Journal," this young General
pondered more than the rest on religious questions; and to him
Napoleon unbosomed his thoughts.--Matter, he says, is everywhere and
pervades everything; life, thought, and the soul itself are but
properties of matter, and death ends all. When Gourgaud points to the
majestic order of the universe as bearing witness to a Creator,
Napoleon admits that he believes in "superior intelligences": he avers
that he would believe in Christianity if it had been the original and
universal creed: but then the Mohammedans "follow a religion simpler
and more adapted to their morality than ours." In ten years their
founder conquered half the world, which Christianity took three
hundred years to accomplish. Or again, he refers to the fact that
Laplace, Monge, Berthollet, and Lagrange were all atheists, though
they did not proclaim the fact; as for himself, he finds the idea of
God to be natural; it has existed at all times and among all peoples.
But once or twice he ends this vague talk with the remarkable
confession that the sight of myriad deaths in war has made him a
materialist. "Matter is everything."--"Vanity of vanities!"[588]

Mirrored as these dialogues are in the eddies of Gourgaud's moods,
they may tinge his master's theology with too much of gloom: but,
after all, they are by far the most lifelike record of Napoleon's
later years, and they show us a nature dominated by the tangible. As
for belief in the divine Christ, there seems not a trace. A report has
come down to us, enshrined in Newman's prose, that Napoleon once
discoursed of the ineffable greatness of Christ, contrasting His
enduring hold on the hearts of men with the evanescent rule of
Alexander and Cæsar. One hopes that the words were uttered; but they
conflict with Napoleon's undoubted statements. Sometimes he spoke in
utter uncertainty; at others, as one who wished to believe in
Christianity and might perhaps be converted. But in the political
testament designed for his son, the only reference to religion is of
the diplomatic description that we should expect from the author of
the "Concordat": "Religious ideas have more influence than certain
narrow-minded philosophers are willing to believe: they are capable of
rendering great services to Humanity. By standing well with the Pope,
an influence is still maintained over the consciences of a hundred
millions of men."

Equally vague was Napoleon's own behaviour as his end drew nigh. For
some time past a sharp internal pain--the stab of a penknife, he
called it--had warned him of his doom; in April, 1821, when vomiting
and prostration showed that the dread ancestral malady was drawing on
apace, he bade the Abbé Vignali prepare the large dining-room of
Longwood as a _chapelle ardente_; and, observing a smile on
Antommarchi's face, the sick man hotly rebuked his affectation of
superiority. Montholon, on his return to England, informed Lord
Holland that extreme unction was administered before the end came,
Napoleon having ordered that this should be done as if solely on
Montholon's responsibility, and that the priest, when questioned on
the subject, was to reply that he had acted on Montholon's orders,
without having any knowledge of the Emperor's wishes. It was
accordingly administered, but apparently he was insensible at the
time.[589] In his will, also, he declared that he died in communion
with the Apostolical Roman Church, in whose bosom he was born. There,
then, we must leave this question, shrouded in the mystery that hangs
around so much of his life.

The decease of a great man is always affecting: but the death of the
hero who had soared to the zenith of military glory and civic
achievement seems to touch the very nadir of calamity. Outliving his
mighty Empire, girt around by a thousand miles of imprisoning ocean,
guarded by his most steadfast enemies, his son a captive at the Court
of the Hapsburgs, and his Empress openly faithless, he sinks from
sight like some battered derelict. And Nature is more pitiless than
man. The Governor urges on him the best medical advice: but he will
have none of it. He feels the grip of cancer, the disease which had
carried off his father and was to claim the gay Caroline and Pauline.
At times he surmises the truth: at others he calls out "_le foie_"
"_le foie_." Meara had alleged that his pains were due to a liver
complaint brought on by his detention at St. Helena; Antommarchi
described the illness as gastric fever (_febbre gastrica pituitosa_);
and not until Dr. Arnott was called in on the 1st of April was the
truth fully recognized.

At the close of the month the symptoms became most distressing,
aggravated as they were by the refusal of the patient to take medicine
or food, or to let himself be moved. On May 4th, at Dr. Arnott's
insistence, some calomel was secretly administered and with beneficial
results, the patient sleeping and even taking some food. This was his
last rally: on the morrow, while a storm was sweeping over the island,
and tearing up large trees, his senses began to fail: Montholon
thought he heard the words _France, armée, tête d'armée, Joséphine_:
he lingered on insensible for some hours: the storm died down: the sun
bathed the island in a flood of glory, and, as it dipped into the
ocean, the great man passed away.

By the Governor's orders Dr. Arnott remained in the room until the
body could be medically examined--a precaution which, as Montchenu
pointed out, would prevent any malicious attempt on the part of the
Longwood servants to cause death to appear as the result of poisoning.
The examination, conducted in the presence of seven medical men and
others, proved that all the organs were sound except the ulcerated
stomach; the liver was rather large, but showed no signs of disease;
the heart, on the other hand, was rather under the normal size. Far
from showing the emaciation that usually results from prolonged
inability to take food, the body was remarkably stout--a fact which
shows that that tenacious will had its roots in an abnormally firm
vitality.[590]

After being embalmed, the body was laid out in state, and all
beholders were struck with the serene and beautiful expression of the
face: the superfluous flesh sank away after death, leaving the
well-proportioned features that moved the admiration of men during the
Consulate.

Clad in his favourite green uniform, he fared forth to his
resting-place under two large weeping willow trees in a secluded
valley: the coffin, surmounted by his sword and the cloak he had worn
at Marengo, was borne with full military honours by grenadiers of the
20th and 66th Regiments before a long line of red-coats; and their
banners, emblazoned with the names of "Talavera," "Albuera,"
"Pyrenees," and "Orthez," were lowered in a last salute to our mighty
foe. Salvos of artillery and musketry were fired over the grave: the
echoes rattled upwards from ridge to ridge and leaped from the
splintery peaks far into the wastes of ocean to warn the world beyond
that the greatest warrior and administrator of all the ages had sunk
to rest.

His ashes were not to remain in that desolate nook: in a clause of his
will he expressed the desire that they should rest by the banks of the
Seine among the people he had loved so well. In 1840 they were
disinterred in presence of Bertrand, Gourgaud, and Marchand, and borne
to France. Paris opened her arms to receive the mighty dead; and Louis
Philippe, on whom he had once prophesied that the crown of France
would one day rest, received the coffin in state under the dome of the
_Invalides_. There he reposes, among the devoted people whom by his
superhuman genius he raised to bewildering heights of glory, only to
dash them to the depths of disaster by his monstrous errors.

       *       *       *       *       *

Viewing his career as a whole, it seems just and fair to assert that
the fundamental cause of his overthrow is to be found, not in the
failings of the French, for they served him with a fidelity that would
wring tears of pity from Rhadamanthus; not in the treachery of this or
that general or politician, for that is little when set against the
loyalty of forty millions of men; but in the character of the man and
of his age. Never had mortal man so grand an opportunity of ruling
over a chaotic Continent: never had any great leader antagonists so
feeble as the rulers who opposed his rush to supremacy. At the dawn of
the nineteenth century the old monarchies were effete: insanity
reigned in four dynasties, and weak or time-serving counsels swayed
the remainder. For several years their counsellors and generals were
little better. With the exception of Pitt and Nelson, who were carried
off by death, and of Wellington, who had but half an army, Napoleon
never came face to face with thoroughly able, well-equipped, and
stubborn opponents until the year 1812.

It seems a paradox to say that this excess of good fortune largely
contributed to his ruin: yet it is true. His was one of those
thick-set combative natures that need timely restraint if their best
qualities are to be nurtured and their domineering instincts curbed.
Just as the strongest Ministry prances on to ruin if the Opposition
gives no effective check, so it was with Napoleon. Had he in his early
manhood taken to heart the lessons of adversity, would he have
ventured at the same time to fight Wellington in Spain and the Russian
climate in the heart of the steppes? Would he have spurned the offers
of an advantageous peace made to him from Prague in 1813? Would he
have let slip the chance of keeping the "natural frontiers" of France
after Leipzig, and her old boundaries, when brought to bay in
Champagne? Would he have dared the uttermost at all points at
Waterloo? In truth, after his fortieth year was past, the fervid
energies of youth hardened in the mould of triumph; and thence came
that fatal obstinacy which was his bane at all those crises of his
career. For in the meantime the cause of European independence had
found worthy champions--smaller men than Napoleon, it is true, but men
who knew that his determination to hold out everywhere and yield
nothing must work his ruin. Finally, the same clinging to unreal hopes
and the same love of fight characterized his life in St. Helena; so
that what might have been a time of calm and dignified repose was
marred by fictitious clamours and petty intrigues altogether unworthy
of his greatness.

For, in spite of his prodigious failure, he was superlatively great in
all that pertains to government, the quickening of human energies, and
the art of war. His greatness lies, not only in the abiding importance
of his best undertakings, but still more in the Titanic force that he
threw into the inception and accomplishment of all of them--a force
which invests the storm-blasted monoliths strewn along the latter
portion of his career with a majesty unapproachable by a tamer race of
toilers. After all, the verdict of mankind awards the highest
distinction, not to prudent mediocrity that shuns the chance of
failure and leaves no lasting mark behind, but to the eager soul that
grandly dares, mightily achieves, and holds the hearts of millions
even amidst his ruin and theirs. Such a wonder-worker was Napoleon.
The man who bridled the Revolution and remoulded the life of France,
who laid broad and deep the foundations of a new life in Italy,
Switzerland, and Germany, who rolled the West in on the East in the
greatest movement known since the Crusades and finally drew the
yearning thoughts of myriads to that solitary rock in the South
Atlantic, must ever stand in the very forefront of the immortals of
human story.







APPENDIX I

LIST OF THE CHIEF APPOINTMENTS AND DIGNITIES BESTOWED BY NAPOLEON

[_An asterisk is affixed to the names of his Marshals_.]


   Arrighi.  Duc de Padua.
  *Augereau.  Duc de Castiglione.
  *Bernadotte.  Prince de Ponte Corvo.
  *Berthier.  Chief of the Staff.  Prince de Neufchâtel.  Prince
      de Wagram.
  *Bessières.  Duc d'Istria.  Commander of the Old Guard.
   Bonaparte, Joseph.  (King of Naples.) King of Spain.
      "       Louis.  King of Holland.
      "       Jerome.  King of Westphalia.
  *Brune.
   Cambacérès.  Arch-Chancellor.  Duc de Parma.
   Caulaincourt.  Duc de Vicenza.  Master of the Horse.  Minister
       of Foreign Affairs (1814).
   Champagny.  Duc de Cadore.  Minister of Foreign Affairs
       (1807-11).
   Chaptal.  Minister of the Interior.  Comte de Chanteloupe.
   Clarke.  Minister of War.  Duc de Feltre.
   Daru.  Comte.
  *Davoust.  Duc d'Auerstädt.  Prince d'Eckmühl.
   Drouet.  Comte d'Erlon.
   Drouot.  Comte.  Aide-Major of the Guard.
   Duroc.  Grand Marshal of the Palace.  Duc de Friuli.
   Eugène (Beauharnais).  Viceroy of Italy.
   Fesch (Cardinal).  Grand Almoner.
   Fouché.  Minister of Police (1804-10).  Duc d'Otranto.
  *Grouchy.  Comte.
   Jomini.  Baron.
  *Jourdan.  Comte.
   Junot.  Duc d'Abrantès.
  *Kellermann.  Duc de Valmy.
  *Lannes.  Duc de Montebello.
   Larrey.  Baron.
   Latour-Maubourg.  Baron.
   Lauriston.  Comte.
   Lavalette.  Comte.  Minister of Posts.
  *Lefebvre.  Duc de Danzig.
  *Macdonald.  Duc de Taranto.
   Maret.  Minister of Foreign Affairs (1811-14.) Duc de Bassano.
  *Marmont.  Duc de Ragusa.
  *Masséna.  (Duc de Rivoli.) Prince d'Essling.
   Miot.  Comte de Melito.
   Méneval.  Baron.
   Mollien.  Comte.  Minister of the Treasury.
  *Moncey.  Duc de Conegliano.
   Montholon.  Comte.
  *Mortier.  Duc de Treviso.
   Mouton.  Comte de Lobau.
  *Murat.  (Grand Duc de Berg.) King of Naples.
  *Ney.  (Duc d'Elchingen.) Prince de la Moskwa.
  *Oudinot.  Duc de Reggio.
   Pajol.  Baron.
   Pasquier, Duc de.  Prefect of Police.
  *Pérignon.
  *Poniatowski.
   Rapp.  Comte.
   Reynier.  Duc de Massa.
   Rémusat.  Chamberlain.
   Savary.  Duc de Rovigo.  Minister of Police (1810-14).
   Sébastiani.  Comte.
  *Sérurier.
  *Soult.  Duc de Dalmatia.
  *St. Cyr, Marquis de.
  *Suchet.  Duc d'Albufera.
   Talleyrand.  Minister of Foreign Affairs (1799-1807).  Grand
       Chamberlain (1804-8).  Prince de Benevento.
   Vandamme.  Comte.
  *Victor.  Duc de Belluno.





APPENDIX II

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO


Some critics have blamed me for underrating the _rôle_ of the
Prussians at Waterloo; but after careful study I have concluded that
it has been overrated by some recent German writers. We now know that
the Prussian advance was retarded by Gneisenau's deep-rooted suspicion
of Wellington, and that no direct aid was given to the British left
until nearly the end of the battle. Napoleon always held that he could
readily have kept off the Prussians at Planchenoit, that the main
battle throughout was against Wellington, and that it was decided by
the final charge of British cavalry. The Prussians did not wholly
capture Planchenoit until the French opposing Wellington were in full
flight. But, of course, Blücher's advance and onset made the victory
the overwhelming triumph that it was.

An able critic in the "Saturday Review" of May 10, 1902, has charged
me with neglecting to say that the French left wing (Foy's and
Bachelu's divisions) supported the French cavalry at the close of the
great charges. I stated (p. 502) that French infantry was not "at hand
to hold the ground which the cavaliers seemed to have won." Let me
cite the exact words of General Foy, written in his Journal a few days
after the battle (M. Girod de L'Ain's "Vie militaire du General Foy,"
p. 278): "Alors que la cavalerie française faisait cette longue et
terrible charge, le feu de notre artillerie était déjà moins nourri,
et notre infanterie ne fit aucun mouvement. Quand la cavalerie fut
rentrée, et que l'artillerie anglaise, qui avait cessé de tirer
pendant une demi-heure, eut recommencé son feu, on donna ordre aux
divisions Foy et Bachelu d'avancer droit aux carrés qui s'y étaient
avancés pendant la charge de cavalerie et qui ne s'étaient pas
repliés. L'attaque fut formée en colonnes par échelons de régiment,
Bachelu formant les échelons les plus avancés. Je tenis par ma gauche
à la haie [de Hougoumont]: j'avais sur mon front un bataillon en
tirailleurs. Près de joindre les Anglais, nous avons reçu un feu très
vif de mitraille et de mousqueterie. C'était une grêle de mort. Les
carrés ennemis avaient le premier rang genoux en terre et présentaient
une haie de baïonettes. Les colonnes de la 1're division ont pris la
fuite les premières: leur mouvement a entraîné celui de mes colonnes.
En ce moment j'ai été blessé...."

This shows that the advance of the French infantry was far too late to
be of the slightest use to the cavalry. The British lines had been
completely re-formed.






FOOTNOTES:


[Footnote 1: Armfeldt to Drake, December 24th, 1803 ("F.O.," Bavaria,
No. 27).]

[Footnote 2: Drake's despatch of December 15th, 1803, _ib_.]

[Footnote 3: Czartoryski, "Memoirs," vol. ii., ch. ii.]

[Footnote 4: The Czar's complaints were: the exile of the King of
Sardinia, the re-occupation of S. Italy by the French, the changes in
Italy, the violation of the neutrality of Baden, the occupation of
Cuxhaven by the French, and the levying of ransom from the Hanse Towns
to escape the same fate ("F.O.," Russia, No. 56).]

[Footnote 5: Lord Harrowby to Admiral Warren ("F.O.," Russia, No.
56).]

[Footnote 6: Garden, "Traités" vol. viii., p. 302; Ulmann,
"Russisch-Preussische Politik," p. 117]

[Footnote 7: See the letter in the "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 170.]

[Footnote 8: "F.O.," Russia, No. 55. See note on p. 28.]

[Footnote 9: Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., chs. ii.-iv.]

[Footnote 10: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon" (May 30th, 1805).]

[Footnote 11: See Novossiltzoff's Report in Czartoryski's "Memoirs,"
vol. ii., ch. iv., and Pitt's note developing the Russian proposals in
Garden's "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 317-323, or Alison, App. to ch.
xxxix. A comparison of these two memoranda will show that on
Continental questions there was no difference such as Thiers affected
to see between the generous policy of Russia and the "cold egotism" of
Pitt. As Czartoryski has proved in his "Memoirs" (vol. ii., ch. x.)
Thiers has erred in assigning importance to a mere first draft of a
conversation which Czartoryski had with that ingenious schemer, the
Abbé Piatoli. The official proposals sent from St. Petersburg to
London were very different; _e.g._, the proposal of Alexander with
regard to the French frontiers was this: "The first object is to bring
back France into its ancient limits or such other ones as might appear
most suitable to the general tranquillity of Europe." It is,
therefore, futile to state that this was solely the policy of Pitt
after he had "remodelled" the Russian proposals.]

[Footnote 12: "Corresp.," No. 8231. See too Bourrienne, Miot de
Melito, vol. ii., ch. iv., and Thiers, bk. xxi.]

[Footnote 13: This refusal has been severely criticised. But the
knowledge of the British Government that Napoleon was still
persevering with his schemes against Turkey, and that the Russians
themselves, from their station at Corfu, were working to gain a
foothold on the Albanian coast, surely prescribed caution ("F.O.,"
Russia, Nos. 55 and 56, despatches of June 26th and October 10th,
1804). It was further known that the Austrian Government had proposed
to the Czar plans that were hostile to Turkey, and were not decisively
rejected at St. Petersburg; and it is clear from the notes left by
Czartoryski that the prospect of gaining Corfu, Moldavia, parts of
Albania, and the precious prize of Constantinople was kept in view.
Pitt agreed to restore the conquests made from France (Despatch of
April 22nd).]

[Footnote 14: Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 328-333. It is clear
that Gustavus IV. was the ruler who insisted on making the restoration
of the Bourbons the chief aim of the Third Coalition. In our "F.O.
Records" (Sweden, No. 177) is an account (August 20th, 1804) of a
conversation of Lord Harrowby with the Swedish ambassador, who stated
that such a declaration would "palsy the arms of France." Our Foreign
Minister replied that it would "much more certainly palsy the arms of
England: that we made war because France was become too powerful for
the peace of Europe."]

[Footnote 15: "Corresp.," No. 8329.]

[Footnote 16: Bailleu, "Preussen und Frankreich," vol. ii., p. 354.]

[Footnote 17: Thiers (bk. xxi.) gives the whole text.]

[Footnote 18: The annexation of the Ligurian or Genoese Republic took
place on June 4th, the way having been prepared there by Napoleon's
former patron, Salicetti, who liberally dispensed bribes. A little
later the Republic of Lucca was bestowed on Elisa Bonaparte and her
spouse, now named Prince Bacciochi. Parma, hitherto administered by a
French governor, was incorporated in the French Empire about the same
time.]

[Footnote 19: Paget to Lord Mulgrave (March 19th, 1805).]

[Footnote 20: Beer, "Zehn Jahre oesterreich. Politik (1801-1810)." The
notes of Novossiltzoff and Hardenberg are printed in Sir G. Jackson's
"Diaries," vol i., App.]

[Footnote 21: See Bignon, vol. iv., pp. 271 and 334. Probably Napoleon
knew through Laforest and Talleyrand that Russia had recently urged
that George III. should offer Hanover to Prussia. Pitt rejected the
proposal. Prussia paid more heed to the offer of Hanover from Napoleon
than to the suggestions of Czartoryski that she might receive it from
its rightful owner, George III. Yet Duroc did not succeed in gaining
more from Frederick William than the promise of his neutrality (see
Garden, "Traités," vol. viii., pp. 339-346). Sweden was not a member
of the Coalition, but made treaties with Russia and England.

The high hopes nursed by the Pitt Ministry are seen in the following
estimate of the forces that would be launched against France: Austria,
250,000; Russia, 180,000; Prussia, 100,000 (Pitt then refused to
subsidize more than 100,000); Sweden, 16,000; Saxony, 16,000; Hesse
and Brunswick, 16,000; Mecklenburg, 3,000; King of Sardinia, 25,000;
Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Baden, 25,000; Naples, 20,000. In a P.S. he
adds that the support of the King of Sardinia would not be needed, and
that England had private arrangements with Naples as to subsidies.
This Memoir is not dated, but it must belong to the beginning of
September, before the defection of Bavaria was known ("F.O.," Prussia,
No. 70).]

[Footnote 22: "F.O.," Russia, No. 57; Gower's note of July 22nd,
1805.]

[Footnote 23: Colonel Graham's despatches, which undoubtedly
influenced the Pitt Ministry in favouring the appointment of Mack to
the present command. Paget ("Papers," vol. ii., p. 238) states that
the Iller position was decided on by Francis. The best analysis of
Mack's character is in Bernhardi's "Memoirs of Count Toll" (vol. i.,
p. 121). The State Papers are in Burke's "Campaign of 1805," App.]

[Footnote 24: Marmont, "Mems.," vol. ii., p. 310.]

[Footnote 25: See "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 224; also Schönhals
"Der Krieg 1805 in Deutschland," p. 67.]

[Footnote 26: "Corresp.," No. 9249. See too No. 9254 for the details
of the enveloping moves which Napoleon then (September 22nd)
accurately planned twenty-five days before the final blows were dealt:
yet No. 9299 shows that, even on September 30th, he believed Mack
would hurry back to the Inn. Beer, p. 145.]

[Footnote 27: Rüstow, "Der Krieg 1805." Hormayr, "Geschichte Hofers"
(vol. i., p. 96), states that, in framing with Russia the plan of
campaign, the Austrians forgot to allow for the difference (twelve
days) between the Russian and Gregorian calendars. The Russians
certainly were eleven days late.]

[Footnote 28: "Corresp.," No 9319; Sir G. Jackson's "Diaries," vol.
i., p. 334.]

[Footnote 29: _Ibid_.; also Metternich, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. iii. For
Prussia's protest to Napoleon, which pulverized the French excuses,
see Garden, vol. ix., p. 69.]

[Footnote 30: Schönhals; Ségur, ch. xvi., exculpates Murat and Ney.]

[Footnote 31: Schönhals, p. 73. Thiers states that Dupont's 6,000
gained a victory over 25,000 Austrians detached from the 60,000 who
occupied Ulm!]

[Footnote 32: Marmont, vol. ii., p. 320; Lejeune, "Memoirs," vol. i.,
ch. iii.]

[Footnote 33: Thiers, bk. xxii. During Mack's interview with Napoleon
(see "Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 235), when the Emperor asked him why
he did not cut his way through to Ansbach, he replied, "Prussia would
have declared against us." To which the Emperor retorted: "Ah! the
Prussians do not declare so quickly."]

[Footnote 34: "Alexandre I et Czartoryski," pp. 32-34.]

[Footnote 35: See these terms compared with the Anglo-Russian treaty
of April 11th, 1805, in the Appendix of Dr. Hansing's "Hardenberg und
die dritte Coalition" (Berlin, 1899).]

[Footnote 36: Häusser, vol. ii., p. 617 (4th. edit.); Lettow-Vorbeck,
"Der Krieg von 1806-1807," vol. i., _ad init_.]

[Footnote 37: For the much more venial stratagem which Kutusoff played
on Murat at Hollabrunn, see Thiers, bk. xxiii.]

[Footnote 38: Lord Harrowby, then on a special mission to Berlin,
reports (November 24th) that this appeal of the Czar had been "coolly
received," and no Prussian troops would enter Bohemia until it was
known how Prussia's envoy to Napoleon, Count Haugwitz, had been
received.]

[Footnote 39: Thiers says December 1st, which is corrected by
Napoleon's letter of November 30th to Talleyrand.]

[Footnote 40: Thiébault, vol. ii., ch. viii.; Ségur, ch. xviii.; York
von Wartenburg, "Nap. als Feldherr," vol. i., p. 230.]

[Footnote 41: Davoust's reports of December 2nd and 5th in his
"Corresp."]

[Footnote 42: Ségur, Thiébault, and Lejeune all state that Napoleon in
the previous advance northwards had foretold that a great battle would
soon be fought opposite Austerlitz, and explained how he would fight
it.]

[Footnote 43: Thiébault wrongly attributes this succour to Lannes: for
that Marshal, who had just insulted and challenged Soult, Thiébault
had a manifest partiality. Savary, though hostile to Bernadotte, gives
him bare justice on this move.]

[Footnote 44: Harrowby evidently thought that Prussia's conduct would
depend on events. Just before the news of Austerlitz arrived, he wrote
to Downing Street: "The eyes of this Government are turned almost
exclusively on Moravia. It is there the fate of this negotiation must
be decided." Yet he reports that 192,000 Prussians are under arms
("F.O.," Prussia, No. 70).]

[Footnote 45: Jackson, "Diaries," vol. i., p. 137.]

[Footnote 46: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," pp. 205-208.]

[Footnote 47: Metternich, "Mems.," vol. i., ch. iii.]

[Footnote 48: Hanover, along with a few districts of Bavarian
Franconia, would bring to Prussia a gain of 989,000 inhabitants, while
she would lose only 375,000. Neufchâtel had offered itself to
Frederick I. of Prussia in 1688, and its proposed barter to France
troubled Hardenberg ("Mems.," vol. ii., p. 421).]

[Footnote 49: Gower to Lord Harrowby from Olmütz, November 25th, in
"F.O. Records," Russia, No. 59.]

[Footnote 50: "Lettres inédites de Tall.," p. 216.]

[Footnote 51: Printed for the first time in full in "Lettres inédites
de Tall.," pp. 156-174. On December 5th Talleyrand again begged
Napoleon to strengthen Austria as "a needful bulwark against the
barbarians, the Russians."]

[Footnote 52: I dissent, though with much diffidence, from M. Vandal
("Napoléon et Alexandre," vol. i., p. 9) in regard to Talleyrand's
proposal.]

[Footnote 53: Napoleon to Talleyrand (December 14th, 1805): "Sûr de la
Prusse, l'Autriche en passera par où je voudrai. Je ferai également
prononcer la Prusse contre l'Angleterre."]

[Footnote 54: Report of M. Otto, August, 1799.]

[Footnote 55: Czartoryski ("Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xii.) states that
England offered Holland to Prussia. I find no proof of this in our
Records. The districts between Antwerp and Cleves are Belgian, not
Dutch; and we never wavered in our support of the House of Orange.]

[Footnote 56: These proposals, dated October 27th, 1805, were modified
somewhat on the news of Mack's disaster and the Treaty of Potsdam.
Hardenberg assured Harrowby (November 24th) that, despite England's
liberal pecuniary help, Frederick William felt great difficulty in
assenting to the proposed territorial arrangements ("F.O.," Prussia,
No. 70).]

[Footnote 57: Hardenberg's "Memoirs," vol. ii., pp. 377, 382.]

[Footnote 58: Ompteda, p. 188. The army returned in February, 1806.]

[Footnote 59: "F.O.," Prussia, No. 70 (November 23rd).]

[Footnote 60: "Diaries of Right Hon. G. Rose," vol. ii., pp. 223-224.]

[Footnote 61: _Ib._, pp. 233-283; Rosebery, "Life of Pitt," p. 258.]

[Footnote 62: Lord Malmesbury's "Diary," vol. iv., p. 114.]

[Footnote 63: Letter of December 27th, 1805; Jackson, "Diaries," vol.
ii., p. 387.]

[Footnote 64: Mollien, "Mems.," vol. i. _ad fin_., and vol. ii., p.
80, for the budget of 1806; also, Fiévée, "Mes Relations avec
Bonaparte," vol. ii., pp. 180-203.]

[Footnote 65: The Court of Naples asserted that in the Convention with
France its ambassador, the Comte de Gallo, exceeded his powers in
promising neutrality. See Lucchesini's conversation with Gentz, quoted
by Garden, "Traités," vol. x., p. 129.]

[Footnote 66: See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Rev.," April, 1900.]

[Footnote 67: Ducasse, "Les Rois Frères de Napoléon," p. 11.]

[Footnote 68: Letter of February 7th, 1806. On the same day he blames
Junot, then commander of Parma, for too great lenience to some rebels
near that city. The Italians were a false people, who only respected a
strong Government. Let him, then, burn two large villages so that no
trace remained, shoot the priest of one village, and send three or
four hundred of the guilty to the galleys. "Trust my old experience of
the Italians."]

[Footnote 69: For a list of the chief Napoleonic titles, see Appendix,
_ad fin_.]

[Footnote 70: January 2nd, 1802; so too Fiévée, "Mes Relations avec
Bonaparte," vol. ii., p. 210, who notes that, by founding an order of
nobility, Napoleon ended his own isolation and attached to his
interests a powerful landed caste.]

[Footnote 71: Hardenberg's "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 390-394.]

[Footnote 72: Hardenberg to Harrowby on January 7th, "Prussia," No.
70.]

[Footnote 73: I have not found a copy of this project; but in
"Prussia," No. 70 (forwarded by Jackson on January 27th, 1806), there
is a detailed "Mémoire explicatif," whence I extract these details, as
yet unpublished, I believe. Neither Hardenberg, Garden, Jackson, nor
Paget mentions them.]

[Footnote 74: Records, "Prussia," No. 70, dated February 21st.]

[Footnote 75: Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol. ii., pp. 463-469; "Nap.
Corresp.," No. 9742, for Napoleon's thoughts as to peace, when he
heard of Fox being our Foreign Minister.]

[Footnote 76: See "Nap. Corresp.," Nos. 9742, 9773, 9777, for his
views as to the weakness of England and Prussia. This treaty of
February 15th, 1806, confirmed the cession of Neufchâtel and Cleves to
France, and of Ansbach to Bavaria; but did not cede any Franconian
districts to Prussia's Baireuth lands. See Hardenberg, "Mémoires,"
vol. ii., p. 483, for the text of the treaty.]

[Footnote 77: The strange perversity of Haugwitz is nowhere more shown
than in his self-congratulation at the omission of the adjectives
_offensive et défensive_ from the new treaty of alliance between
France and Prussia (Hardenberg, vol. ii., p. 481). Napoleon was now
not pledged to help Prussia in the war which George III. declared
against her on April 20th.]

[Footnote 78: It is noteworthy that in all the negotiations that
followed, Napoleon never raised any question about our exacting
maritime code, which proves how hollow were his diatribes against the
tyrant of the seas at other times.]

[Footnote 79: Despatch of April 20th, 1806, in Papers presented to
Parliament on December 22nd, 1806.]

[Footnote 80: Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xiii.]

[Footnote 81: "I do not intend the Court of Rome to mix any more in
politics" (Nap. to the Pope, February 13th, 1806).]

[Footnote 82: I translate literally these N.B.'s as pasted in at the
end of Yarmouth's Memoir of July 8th ("France," No. 73). As Oubril's
instructions have never, I believe, been published, the passage given
above is somewhat important as proving how completely he exceeded his
powers in bartering away Sicily. The text of the Oubril Treaty is
given by De Clercq, vol. ii., p. 180. The secret articles required
Russia to help France in inducing the Court of Madrid to cede the
Balearic Isles to the Prince Royal of Naples; the dethroned King and
Queen were not to reside there, and Russia was to recognize Joseph
Bonaparte as King of the Two Sicilies.]

[Footnote 83: In conversing with our ambassador, Mr. Stuart, Baron
Budberg excused Oubril's conduct on the ground of his nervousness
under the threats of the French plenipotentiary, General Clarke, who
scarcely let him speak, and darkly hinted at many other changes that
must ensue if Russia did not make peace; Switzerland was to be
annexed, Germany overrun, and Turkey partitioned. That Clarke was a
master in diplomatic hectoring is well known; but, from private
inquiries, Stuart discovered that the Czar, in his private conference
with Oubril, seemed more inclined towards peace than Czartoryski: when
therefore the latter resigned, Oubril might well give way before
Clarke's bluster. (Stuart's Despatch of August 9th, 1806, F.O.,
Russia, No. 63; also see Czartoryski's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xiv.;
and Martens, "Traités," Suppl. vol. iv.)]

[Footnote 84: "Memoirs of Karl Heinrich, Knight of Lang."]

[Footnote 85: Garden, vol. ix., pp. 157, 189, 255.]

[Footnote 86: "Corresp.," Nos. 10522 and 10544. For a French account
see the "Mems." of Baron Desvernois, p. 288.]

[Footnote 87: "F.O. Records," Naples, No. 73.]

[Footnote 88: This was on Napoleon's advice. He wrote to Talleyrand
from Rambouillet on August 18th, to give as an excuse for the delay,
"The Emperor is hunting and will not be back before the end of the
week."]

[Footnote 89: So too Napoleon said at St. Helena to Las Cases: "Fox's
death was one of the fatalities of my career."]

[Footnote 90: Despatches of September 26th and October 6th.]

[Footnote 91: Bailleu, "Frankreich und Preussen," Introd.]

[Footnote 92: Decree of July 26th.]

[Footnote 93: See "Corresp." No. 10604, note; also Talleyrand's letter
of August 4th ("Lettres inédites," p. 245), showing the indemnities
that might be offered to Prussia after the loss of Hanover: they
included, of course, little States, Anhalt, Lippe, Waldeck, etc.]

[Footnote 94: Gentz, "Ausgew. Schriften," vol. v., p. 252.
Conversation with Lucchesini.]

[Footnote 95: "Corresp.," Nos. 10575, 10587, 10633.]

[Footnote 96: "Mems.," vol. iii., pp. 115, _et seq._ The
Prusso-Russian convention of July, by which these Powers mutually
guaranteed the integrity of their States, was mainly the work of
Hardenberg.]

[Footnote 97: Bailleu, pp. 540-552. See too Fournier's "Napoleon,"
vol. ii., p. 106.]

[Footnote 98: Bailleu, pp. 556-557. So too Napoleon's letter of
September 5th to Berthier is the first hint of his thought of a
Continental war.]

[Footnote 99: Queen Louisa said to Gentz (October 9th) that war had
been decided on, not owing to selfish calculations, but the sentiment
of honour (Garden, "Traités," vol. x., p. 133).]

[Footnote 100: A memorial was handed in to him on September 2nd. It
was signed by the King's brothers, Henry and William, also by the
leader of the warlike party, Prince Louis Ferdinand, by Generals
Rüchel and Phull, and by the future dictator, Stein. The King rebuked
all of them. See Pertz, "Stein," vol. i., p. 347.]

[Footnote 101: "F.O.," Russia, No. 64. Stuart's despatches of
September 30th and October 21st.]

[Footnote 102: Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben."]

[Footnote 103: Lettow-Vorbeck, "Der Krieg von 1806-7," p. 163.]

[Footnote 104: See Prince Hohenlohe's "Letters on Strategy" (p. 62,
Eng. ed.) for the effect of this rapid marching; Foucart's "Campagne
de Prusse," vol. i., pp. 323-343; also Lord Fitzmaurice's "Duke of
Brunswick."]

[Footnote 105: Höpfner, vol. i.p. 383; and Lettow-Vorbeck, vol. i., p.
345.]

[Footnote 106: Foucart, _op. cit._, pp. 606-623.]

[Footnote 107: Marbot says Rüchel was killed: but he recovered from
his wound, and did good service the next spring.

Vernet's picture of Napoleon inspecting his Guards at Jena before
their charge seems to represent the well-known incident of a soldier
calling out "_en avant_"; whereupon Napoleon sharply turned and bade
the man wait till he had commanded in twenty battles before he gave
him advice.]

[Footnote 108: Foucart, p. 671.]

[Footnote 109: Lang thus describes four French Marshals whom he saw at
Ansbach: "Bernadotte, a very tall dark man, with fiery eyes under
thick brows; Mortier, still taller, with a stupid sentinel look;
Lefebvre, an old Alsatian camp-boy, with his wife, former washerwoman
to the regiment; and Davoust, a little smooth-pated, unpretending man,
who was never tired of waltzing."]

[Footnote 110: Davoust, "Opérations du 3'me Corps," pp. 31-32. French
writers reduce their force to 24,000, and raise Brunswick's total to
60,000. Lehmann's "Scharnhorst," vol. i., p. 433, gives the details.]

[Footnote 111: Foucart, pp. 604-606, 670, and 694-697, who only blames
him for slowness. But he set out from Naumburg before dawn, and,
though delayed by difficult tracks, was near Apolda at 4 p.m., and
took 1,000 prisoners.]

[Footnote 112: For this service, as for his exploits at Austerlitz,
Napoleon gave few words of praise. Lannes' remonstrance is printed by
General Thoumas, "Le Maréchal Lannes," p. 169. The Emperor secretly
disliked Lannes for his very independent bearing.]

[Footnote 113: "Nap. Corresp.," November 21st, 1807; Baron Lumbroso's
"Napoleone I e l'Inghilterra," p. 103; Garden, vol. x., p. 307.]

[Footnote 114: This decree, of 10 Brumaire, an V, is printed in full,
and commented on by Lumbroso, _op. cit._, p. 49. See too Sorel,
"L'Europe et la Rév. Fr.," vol. iii., p. 389; and my article,
"Napoleon and English Commerce," in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." of October,
1893.]

[Footnote 115: This phrase occurs, I believe, first in the
conversation of Napoleon on May 1st, 1803: "We will form a more
complete coast-system, and England shall end by shedding tears of
blood" (Miot de Melito, "Mems.," vol. i., chap. xiv.).]

[Footnote 116: _E.g._, Fauchille, "Du Blocus maritime," pp. 93 _et
seq._]

[Footnote 117: See especially the pamphlet "War in Disguise, or the
Frauds of the Neutral Flags" (1805), by J. Stephen. It has been said
that this pamphlet was a cause of the Orders in Council. The whole
question is discussed by Manning, "Commentaries on the Law of Nations"
(1875); Lawrence, "International Law"; Mahan, "Infl. of Sea Power,"
vol. ii., pp. 274-277; Mollien, vol. iii., p. 289 (first edit.); and
Chaptal, p. 275.]

[Footnote 118: Hausser, vol. iii., p. 61 (4th edit.). The Saxon
federal contingent was fixed at 20,000 men.]

[Footnote 119: Papers presented to Parliament, December 22nd, 1806.]

[Footnote 120: After the interview of November 28th, 1801, Cornwallis
reports that Napoleon "expressed a wish that we could agree to remove
disaffected persons from either country ... and declared his
willingness to send away United Irishmen" ("F.O. Records," No. 615).]

[Footnote 121: Czartoryski, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xv.]

[Footnote 122: In our "F.O. Records," Prussia, No. 74, is a report of
Napoleon's reply to a deputation at Warsaw (January, 1807): "I warn
you that neither I nor any French prince cares for your Polish throne:
I have crowns to give and don't know what to do with them. You must
first of all think of giving bread to my soldiers--'Bread, bread,
bread.' ... I cannot support my troops in this country, where there is
no one besides nobles and miserable peasants. Where are your great
families? They are all sold to Russia. It is Czartoryski who wrote to
Kosciusko not to come back to Poland." And when a Galician deputy
asked him of the fate of his province, he turned on him: "Do you think
that I will draw on myself new foes for one province." Nevertheless,
the enthusiasm of the Poles was not wholly chilled. Their contingents
did good service for him. Somewhat later, female devotion brought a
beautiful young Polish lady to act as his mistress, primarily with the
hope of helping on the liberation of her land, and then as a willing
captive to the charm which he exerted on all who approached him. Their
son was Count Walewska]

[Footnote 123: Marbot, ch. xxviii.]

[Footnote 124: Lettow-Vorbeck estimates the French loss at more than
24,000; that of the Russians as still heavier, but largely owing to
the bad commissariat and wholesale straggling. On this see Sir R.
Wilson's "Campaign in Poland," ch. i.]

[Footnote 125: Napoleon on February 13th charged Bertrand to offer
_verbally, but not in writing_, to the King of Prussia a separate
peace, without respect to the Czar. Frederick William was to be
restored to his States east of the Elbe. He rejected the offer, which
would have broken his engagements to the Czar. Napoleon repeated the
offer on February 20th, which shows that, at this crisis, he did wish
for peace with Prussia. See "Nap. Corresp.," No. 11810; and Hausser,
vol. iii., p. 74.]

[Footnote 126: "I have been repeatedly pressed by the Prussian and
Russian Governments," wrote Lord Hutchinson, our envoy at Memel, March
9th, 1807, "on the subject of a diversion to be made by British troops
against Mortier.... Stettin is a large place with a small garrison and
in a bad state of defence" ("F.O.," Prussia, No. 74). in 1805 Pitt
promised to send a British force to Stralsund (see p. 17).]

[Footnote 127: Lord Cathcart's secret report to the War Office, dated
April 22nd, 1807, dealt with the appeal made by Lord Hutchinson, and
with a _Projet_ of Dumouriez, both of whom strongly urged the
expedition to Stralsund. On May 30th Castlereagh received a report
from a Hanoverian officer, Kuckuck, stating that Hanover and Hesse
were ripe for revolt, and that Hameln might easily be seized if the
North Germans were encouraged by an English force ("Castlereagh
Letters," vol. vi., pp. 169 and 211).]

[Footnote 128: "F.O.," Russia, No. 69.]

[Footnote 129: "Correspond.," No. 12563; also "La Mission du Gen.
Gardane en Perse," par le comte de Gardane. Napoleon in his
proclamation of December 2nd, 1806, told the troops that their
victories had won for France her Indian possessions and the Cape of
Good Hope.]

[Footnote 130: Wilson, "Campaign in Poland"; "Opérations du 3ème Corps
[Davoust's], 1806-1807," p. 199.]

[Footnote 131: "Corresp.," Nos. 12749 and 12751. Lejeune, in his
"Memoirs," also shows that Napoleon's chief aim was to seize
Königsberg.]

[Footnote 132: "Memoirs of Oudinot," ch. i]

[Footnote 133: The report is dated Memel, June 21st, 1807, in "F.O.,"
Prussia, No. 74. Hutchinson thinks the Russians had not more than
45,000 men engaged at Friedland, and that their losses did not exceed
15,000: but there were "multitudes of stragglers." Lettow-Vorbeck
gives about the same estimates. Those given in the French bulletin are
grossly exaggerated.]

[Footnote 134: On June 17th, 1807, Queen Louisa wrote to her father:"
... we fall with honour. The King has proved that he prefers honour to
shameful submission." On June 23rd Bennigsen professed a wish to
fight, while secretly advising surrender (Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 469).]

[Footnote 135: "F.O.," Russia, No. 69. Soult told Lord Holland
("Foreign Reminiscences," p. 185) that Bennigsen was plotting to
murder the Czar, and he (S.) warned him of it.]

[Footnote 136: "Lettres inédites de Talleyrand," p. 468; also Garden,
vol. x., pp. 205-210; and "Ann. Reg." (1807), pp. 710-724, for the
British replies to Austria.]

[Footnote 137: Canning to Paget ("Paget Papers," vol. ii., p. 324). So
too Canning's despatch of July 21st to Gower (Russia, No. 69).]


[Footnote 138: Stadion saw through it. See Beer, p. 243.]

[Footnote 139: "Nap. Corresp.," No. 11918.]

[Footnote 140: _Ib._, No. 12028. This very important letter seems to
me to refute M. Vandal's theory ("Nap. et Alexandre," ch. i.), that
Napoleon was throughout seeking for an alliance with _Austria_, or
Prussia, or Russia.]

[Footnote 141: Canning to Paget, May 16th, 1807 ("Paget Papers," vol.
ii., p. 290).]

[Footnote 142: Garden, vol. x., pp. 214-218; and Gower's despatch of
June 17th. 1807 (Russia, No. 69).]

[Footnote 143: All references to the story rest ultimately on Bignon,
"Hist. de France" (vol. vi., p. 316), who gives no voucher for it. For
the reasons given above I must regard the story as suspect. Among a
witty, phrase-loving people like the French, a good _mot_ is almost
certain to gain credence and so pass into history.]

[Footnote 144: Tatischeff, "Alexandre I et Napoléon" (pp. 144-148).]

[Footnote 145: Reports of Savary and Lesseps, quoted by Vandal, _op.
cit._, p. 61; "Corresp.," No. 12825.]

[Footnote 146: Vandal, p. 73, says that the news reached Napoleon at a
review when Alexander was by his side. If so, the occasion was
carefully selected with a view to effect; for the news reached him on,
or before, June 24th (see "Corresp.," No. 12819). Gower states that
the news reached Tilsit as early as the 15th; and Hardenberg secretly
proposed a policy of partition of Turkey on June 23rd ("Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 463). Hardenberg resigned office on July 4th, as Napoleon
refused to treat through him.]

[Footnote 147: "Corresp.," No. 12862, letter of July 6th.]

[Footnote 148: Tatischeff (pp. 146-148 and 163-168) proves from the
Russian archives that these schemes were Alexander's, and were in the
main opposed by Napoleon. This disproves Vandal's assertion (p. 101)
that Napoleon pressed Alexander to take the Memel and Polish
districts.]

[Footnote 149: "Erinnerungen der Gräfin von Voss."]

[Footnote 150: Probably this refers not to the restitution of Silesia,
which he politely offered to her (though he had previously granted it
on the Czar's request), but to Madgeburg and its environs west of the
Elbe. On July 7th he said to Goltz, the Prussian negotiator, "I am
sorry if the Queen took as positive assurances the _phrases de_
_politesse_ that one speaks to ladies" (Hardenberg's "Mems.," vol.
iii., p. 512).]

[Footnote 151: See the new facts published by Bailleu in the
"Hohenzollern Jahrbuch" (1899). The "rose" story is not in any German
source.]

[Footnote 152: In his "Memoirs" (vol. i., pt. iii.) Talleyrand says
that he repeated this story several times at the Tuileries, until
Napoleon rebuked him for it.]

[Footnote 153: Before Tilsit Prussia had 9,744,000 subjects;
afterwards only 4,938,000. See her frontiers in map on p. 215.]

[Footnote 154: The exact terms of the secret articles and of the
secret treaty have only been known since 1890, when, owing to the
labours of MM. Fournier, Tatischeff, and Vandal, they saw the light.]

[Footnote 155: Gower's despatch of July 12th. "F.O.," Russia, No. 69.]

[Footnote 156: De Clercq, "Traités," vol. ii., pp. 223-225; Garden,
vol. x., p. 233 and 277-290. Our envoy, Jackson, reported from Memel
on July 28th: "Nothing can exceed the insolence and extortions of the
French. No sooner is one demand complied with than a fresh one is
brought forward."]

[Footnote 157: That he seriously thought in November, 1807, of leaving
to Prussia less than half of her already cramped territories, is clear
from his instructions to Caulaincourt, his ambassador to the Czar: "Is
it not to Prussia's interest for her to place herself, at once, and
with entire resignation, among the inferior Powers?" A new treaty was
to be framed, under the guise of _interpreting_ that of Tilsit, Russia
keeping the Danubian Provinces, and Napoleon more than half of Prussia
(Vandal, vol. i., p. 509).]

[Footnote 158: Lucchesini to Gentz in October, 1806, in Gentz's
"Ausgewählte Schriften," vol. v., p. 257.]

[Footnote 159: See Canning's reply to Stahremberg's Note, on April
25th, 1807, in the "Ann. Reg.," p. 724.]

[Footnote 160: For Mackenzie's report and other details gleaned from
our archives, see my article "A British Agent at Tilsit," in the "Eng.
Hist. Rev." of October, 1901.]

[Footnote 161: James, "Naval History," vol. iv., p. 408.]

[Footnote 162: "F.O.," Denmark, No. 53.]

[Footnote 163: Garden, vol. x., p. 408.]

[Footnote 164: "Corresp.," No. 12962; see too No. 12936, ordering the
15,000 Spanish troops now serving him near Hamburg to form the nucleus
of Bernadotte's army of observation, which, "in case of events," was
to be strengthened by as many Dutch.]

[Footnote 165: "F.O.," Denmark, No. 53. I published this Memorandum of
Canning and other unpublished papers in an article, "Canning and
Denmark," in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." of January, 1896. The terms of the
capitulation were, it seems, mainly decided on by Sir Arthur
Wellesley, who wrote to Canning (September 8th): "I might have carried
our terms higher ... had not our troops been needed at home" ("Well.
Despatches," vol. iii., p. 7).]

[Footnote 166: Castlereagh's "Corresp.," vol. vi. So too Gower
reported from St. Petersburg on October 1st that public opinion was
"decidedly averse to war with England, ... and it appears to me that
the English name was scarcely ever more popular in Russia than at the
present time."]

[Footnote 167: Letters of July 19th and 29th.]

[Footnote 168: The phrase is that of Viscount Strangford, our
ambassador at Lisbon ("F.O.," Portugal, No. 55). So Baumgarten,
"Geschichte Spaniens," vol. i., p. 136.]

[Footnote 169: Report of the Portuguese ambassador, Lourenço de Lima,
dated August 7th, 1807, inclosed by Viscount Strangford ("F.O.,"
Portugal, No. 55).]

[Footnote 170: This statement as to the date of the summons to
Portugal is false: it was July 19th when he ordered it to be sent,
that is, long before the Copenhagen news reached him.]

[Footnote 171: "Corresp.," No. 12839.]

[Footnote 172: See Lady Blennerhasset's "Talleyrand," vol. ii., ch.
xvi., for a discussion of Talleyrand's share in the new policy. This
question, together with many others, cannot be solved, owing to
Talleyrand's destruction of most of his papers. In June, 1806, he
advised a partition of Portugal; and in the autumn he is said to have
favoured the overthrow of the Spanish Bourbons. But there must surely
be some connection between Napoleon's letter to him of July 19th,
1807, on Portuguese affairs and the resignation which he persistently
offered on their return to Paris. On August 10th he wrote to the
Emperor that that letter would be the last act of his Ministry
("Lettres inédites de Tall.," p. 476). He was succeeded by Champagny.]

[Footnote 173: "Corresp.," Nos. 13235, 37, 43.]

[Footnote 174: "Corresp.," Nos. 13314 and 13327. So too, to General
Clarke, his new Minister of War, he wrote: "Junot may say anything he
pleases, so long as he gets hold of the fleet" ("New Letters of Nap.,"
October 28th, 1807).]

[Footnote 175: Strangford's despatches quite refute Thiers' confident
statement that the Portuguese answers to Napoleon were planned in
concert with us. I cannot find in our archives a copy of the
Anglo-Portuguese Convention signed by Canning on October 22nd, 1807;
but there are many references to it in his despatches. It empowered us
to occupy Madeira; and our fleet did so at the close of the year. In
April next we exchanged it for the Azores and Goa.]

[Footnote 176: "Corresp.," July 22nd, 1807.]

[Footnote 177: Between September 1st, 1807, and November 23rd, 1807,
he wrote eighteen letters on the subject of Corfu, which he designed
to be his base of operations as soon as the Eastern Question could be
advantageously reopened. On February 8th, 1808, he wrote to Joseph
that Corfu was more important than Sicily, and that "_in the present
state of Europe, the loss of Corfu would be the greatest of
disasters_." This points to his proposed partition of Turkey.]

[Footnote 178: Letter of October 13th, 1807.]

[Footnote 179: "Ann. Register" for 1807, pp. 227, 747.]

[Footnote 180: _Ibid._, pp. 749-750. Another Order in Council
(November 25th) allowed neutral ships a few more facilities for
colonial trade, and Prussian merchantmen were set free (_ibid._, pp.
755-759). In April, 1809, we further favoured the carrying of British
goods on neutral ships, especially to or from the United States.]

[Footnote 181: Bourrienne, "Memoirs." The case against the Orders in
Council is fairly stated by Lumbroso, and by Alison, ch. 50.]

[Footnote 182: Gower reported (on September 22nd) that the Spanish
ambassador at St. Petersburg had been pleading for help there, so as
to avenge this insult.]

[Footnote 183: Baumgarten, "Geschichte Spaniens," vol. i., p. 138.]

[Footnote 184: "Nap. Corresp." of October 17th and 31st, November
13th, December 23rd, 1807, and February 20th, 1808; also Napier,
"Peninsular War," bk. i., ch. ii.]

[Footnote 185: Letter of January 10th, 1808.]

[Footnote 186: Letter of Charles IV. to Napoleon of October 29th,
1807, published in "Murat, Lieutenant de l'Empereur en Espagne,"
Appendix viii.]

[Footnote 187: "New Letters of Napoleon."]

[Footnote 188: "Corresp.," letter of February 25th.]

[Footnote 189: Murat in 1814 told Lord Holland ("Foreign
Reminiscences," p. 131) he had had no instructions from Napoleon.]

[Footnote 190: Thiers, notes to bk. xxix.]

[Footnote 191: "Mémoires pour servir à l'histoire de la Révolution
d'Espagne, par Nellerto"; also "The Journey of Ferdinand VII. to
Bayonne," by Escoiquiz.]

[Footnote 192: "Corresp.," No. 13696. A careful comparison of this
laboured, halting effusion, with the curt military syle*style of the
genuine letters--and especially with Nos. 93, 94, and 100 of the "New
Letters"--must demonstrate its non-authenticity. Thiers' argument to
the contrary effect is rambling and weak. Count Murat in his recent
monograph on his father pronounces the letter a fabrication of St.
Helena or later. It was first published in the "Mémorial de St.
Hélène," an untrustworthy compilation made by Las Cases after
Napoleon's death from notes taken at St. Helena.]

[Footnote 193: Napoleon had at first intended the Spanish crown for
Louis, to whom he wrote on March 27th: "The climate of Holland does
not suit you. Besides, Holland can never rise from her ruins." Louis
declined, on the ground that his call to Holland had been from heaven,
and not from Napoleon!]

[Footnote 194: Memoirs of Thiébault and De Broglie; so, too, De Rocca,
"La Guerre en Espagne."]

[Footnote 195: See the letter of an Englishman from Buenos Ayres of
September 27th, 1809, in "Cobbett's Register" for 1810 (p. 256),
stating that the new popular Government there was driven by want of
funds, "not from their good wishes to England," to open their ports to
all foreign commerce on moderate duties.]

[Footnote 196: Vandal, "Napoléon et Alexandre," ch. vii. It is not
published in the "Correspondence" or in the "New Letters."]

[Footnote 197: Vandal, "Napoléon et Alexandre," vol. i., ch. iv., and
App. II.]

[Footnote 198: In the conversations which Metternich had with Napoleon
and Talleyrand on and after January 22nd, 1808, he was convinced that
the French Emperor intended to partition Turkey as soon as it suited
him to do so, which would be after he had subjected Spain. Napoleon
said to him: "When the Russians are at Constantinople you will need
France to help you against them."--"Metternich Memoirs," vol. ii., p.
188.]

[Footnote 199: So Soult told Lord Holland ("Foreign Reminiscences," p.
171).]

[Footnote 200: Vandal, vol. i., p. 384.]

[Footnote 201: Metternich, "Mems.," vol. ii. p. 298 (Eng. edit.).]

[Footnote 202: I think that Beer (pp. 330-340) errs somewhat in
ranking Talleyrand's work at Erfurt at that statesman's own very high
valuation, which he enhanced in later years: see Greville's "Mems.,"
Second Part, vol. ii., p. 193.]

[Footnote 203: Vandal, vol. i., p. 307.]

[Footnote 204: Sklower, "L'Entrevue de Napoléon avec Goethe"; Mrs.
Austin's "Germany from 1760 to 1814"; Oncken, bk. vii., ch. i. For
Napoleon's dispute with Wieland about Tacitus see Talleyrand, "Mems.,"
vol. i., pt. 5. When the Emperors' carriages were ready for departure,
Talleyrand whispered to Alexander: "Ah! si Votre Majesté pouvait se
tromper de voiture."]

[Footnote 205: "F.O.," Russia, No. 74, despatch of December 9th, 1808.
On January 14th, 1809, Canning signed a treaty of alliance with the
Spanish people, both sides agreeing never to make peace with Napoleon
except by common consent. It was signed when the Spanish cause seemed
desperate; but it was religiously observed.]

[Footnote 206: Madelin's "Fouché," vol. ii., p. 80; Pasquier, vol. i.,
pp. 353-360.]

[Footnote 207: Seeley, "Life and Times of Stein," vol. ii., p. 316;
Hausser, vol. iii., p. 219 (4th edition).]

[Footnote 208: Our F.O. Records show that we wanted to help Austria;
but a long delay was caused by George III.'s insisting that she should
make peace with us first. Canning meanwhile sent £250,000 in silver
bars to Trieste. But in his note of April 20th he assured the Court of
Vienna that our treasury had been "nearly exhausted" by the drain of
the Peninsular War. (Austria, No. 90.)]

[Footnote 209: For the campaign see the memoirs of Macdonald, Marbot,
Lejeune, Pelet and Marmont. The last (vol. iii., p. 216) says that,
had the Austrians pressed home their final attacks at Aspern, a
disaster was inevitable; or had Charles later on cut the French
communications near Vienna, the same result must have followed. But
the investigations of military historians leave no doubt that the
Austrian troops were too exhausted by their heroic exertions, and
their supplies of ammunition too much depleted, to warrant any risky
moves for several days; and by that time reinforcements had reached
Napoleon. See too Angelis' "Der Erz-Herzog Karl."]

[Footnote 210: Thoumas, "Le Maréchal Lannes," pp. 205, 323 _et seq._
Desvernois ("Mems.," ch. xii.) notes that after Austerlitz none of
Napoleon's wars had the approval of France.]

[Footnote 211: For the Walcheren expedition see Alison, vol. viii.;
James, vol. iv.; as also for Gambier's failure at Rochefort. The
letters of Sir Byam Martin, then cruising off Danzig, show how our
officers wished to give timely aid to Schill ("Navy Records," vol.
xii.).]

[Footnote 212: Captain Boothby's "A Prisoner of France," ch. iii.]

[Footnote 213: For Charles's desire to sue for peace after the first
battles on the Upper Danube, see Häusser, vol. iii., p. 341; also,
after Wagram, _ib._, pp. 412-413.]

[Footnote 214: Napier, bk. viii., chs. ii. and iii. In the App. of
vol. iii. of "Wellington's Despatches" is Napoleon's criticism on the
movements of Joseph and the French marshals. He blames them for their
want of _ensemble_, and for the precipitate attack which Victor
advised at Talavera. He concluded: "As long as you attack good troops
like the English in good positions, without reconnoitring them, you
will lead men to death _en pure perte_."]

[Footnote 215: An Austrian envoy had been urging promptitude at
Downing Street. On June 1st he wrote to Canning: "The promptitude of
the enemy has always been the key to his success. A long experience
has proved this to the world, which seems hitherto not to have
profited by this knowledge." On July 29th Canning acknowledged the
receipt of the Austrian ratification of peace with us, "accompanied by
the afflicting intelligence of the armistice concluded on the 12th
instant between the Austrian and French armies."

Napoleon at St. Helena said to Montholon that, had 6,000 British
troops pushed rapidly up the banks of the Scheldt on the day that the
expedition reached Flushing, they could easily have taken Antwerp,
which was then very weakly held. See, too, other opinions quoted by
Alison, ch. lx.]

[Footnote 216: Beer, p. 441.]

[Footnote 217: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 161; Metternich, vol. i., p. 114.]

[Footnote 218: Letter of February 10th, 1810, quoted by Lanfrey. See,
too, the "Mems." of Prince Eugène, vol. vi., p. 277.]

[Footnote 219: "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 365 (Eng. ed.).]

[Footnote 220: Bausset, "Mems.," ch. xix.]

[Footnote 221: Mme. de Rémusat, "Mems.," ch. xxvii.]

[Footnote 222: Tatischeff, "Alexandre et Napoléon," p. 519.
Welschinger, "Le Divorce de Napoléon," ch. ii.; he also examines the
alleged irregularities of the religious marriage with Josephine; Fesch
and most impartial authorities brushed them aside as a flimsy excuse.]

[Footnote 223: Metternich's despatch of December 25th, 1809, in his
"Mems.," vol. ii., § 150. The first hints were dropped by him to
Laborde on November 29th (Vandal, vol. ii., pp. 204, 543): they
reached Napoleon's ears about December 15th. For the influence of
these marriage negotiations in preparing for Napoleon's rupture with
the Czar, see chap, xxxii. of this work.]

[Footnote 224: "Conversations with the Duke of Wellington," p. 9. The
disobedience of Ney and Soult did much to ruin Masséna's campaign, and
he lost the battle of Fuentès d'Onoro mainly through that of
Bessières. Still, as he failed to satisfy Napoleon's maxim, "Succeed:
I judge men only by results," he was disgraced.]

[Footnote 225: Decree of February 5th, 1810. See Welschinger, "La
Censure sous le premier Empire," p. 31. For the seizure of Madame de
Staël's "Allemagne" and her exile, see her preface to "Dix Années
d'Exil."]

[Footnote 226: Mollien, "Mems.," vol. iii., p. 183.]

[Footnote 227: Fouché retired to Italy, and finally settled at Aix.
His place at the Ministry of Police was taken by Savary, Duc de
Rovigo. See Madelin's "Fouché," chap. xx.]

[Footnote 228: Porter, "Progress of the Nation," p. 388.]

[Footnote 229: Letters of August 6th, 7th, 29th. The United States had
just repealed their Non-Intercourse Act of 1807. For their relations
with Napoleon and England, see Channing's "The United States of
America," chs. vi. and vii.; also the Anglo-American correspondence in
Cobbett's "Register for 1809 and 1810."]

[Footnote 230: Mollien, "Mems." vol. i., p. 316.]

[Footnote 231: Tooke, "Hist. of Prices," vol. i., p. 311; Mollien,
vol. iii., pp. 135, 289; Pasquier, vol. i., p. 295; Chaptal, p. 275.]

[Footnote 232: Letter of August 6th, 1810, to Eugène.]

[Footnote 233: "Progress of the Nation," p. 148.]

[Footnote 234: So Mollien, vol. iii., p. 135: "One knows that his
powerful imagination was fertile in illusions: as soon as they had
seduced him, he sought with a kind of good faith to enhance their
prestige, and he succeeded easily in persuading many others of what he
had convinced himself. He braved business difficulties as he braved
dangers in war."] [Footnote 235: Miot de Melito, vol. ii., ch. xv. For
some favourable symptoms in French industry, see Lumbroso, pp.
165-226, and Chaptal, p. 287. They have been credited to the
Continental System; but surely they resulted from the internal free
trade and intelligent administration which France had enjoyed since
the Revolution.]

[Footnote 236: "Nap. Corresp.," May 8th, 1811.]

[Footnote 237: Goethe published the first part of "Faust," _in full_,
early in 1808.]

[Footnote 238: Baur, "Stein und Perthes," p. 85.]

[Footnote 239: Lavalette, "Mems.," ch. xxv.]

[Footnote 240: Letters of October 10th and 13th, 1810, and January
1st, 1811.]

[Footnote 241: Letter of September 17th, 1810.]

[Footnote 242: Letter of March 8th, 1811. For a fuller treatment of
the commercial struggle between Great Britain and Napoleon see my
articles, "Napoleon and British Commerce" and "Britain's Food Supply
during the French War," in a volume entitled "Napoleonic Studies"
(George Bell and Sons, 1904).]

[Footnote 243: Czartoryski, "Mems.," vol. ii., ch. xvii. At this time
he was taken back to the Czar's favour, and was bidden to hope for the
re-establishment of Poland by the Czar as soon as Napoleon made a
blunder.]

[Footnote 244: Tatischeff, p. 526; Vandal, vol. ii., ch. vii.]

[Footnote 245: "Corresp.," No. 16178; Vandal, vol. ii., ch. vii. The
_exposé_ of December 1st, 1809, had affirmed that Napoleon did not
intend to re-establish Poland. But this did not satisfy Alexander.]

[Footnote 246: Letters of October 23rd and December 2nd, 1810.]

[Footnote 247: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 529.]

[Footnote 248: Tatischeff, p. 555.]

[Footnote 249: Vandal, vol. ii., p. 535, admits that we had no hand in
it. But the Czar naturally became more favourable to us, and at the
close of 1811 secretly gave entry to our goods.]

[Footnote 250: Quoted by Garden, vol. xiii., p. 171.]

[Footnote 251: Bernhardi's "Denkwürdigkeiten des Grafen von Toll,"
vol. i. p. 223.]

[Footnote 252: Czartoryski, vol. ii., ch. xvii. At Dresden, in May,
1812, Napoleon admitted to De Pradt, his envoy at Warsaw that Russia's
lapse from the Continental System was the chief cause of war; "Without
Russia, the Continental System is absurdity."]

[Footnote 253: For the overtures of Russia and Sweden to us and their
exorbitant requests for loans, see Mr. Hereford George's account in
his careful and systematic study, "Napoleon's Invasion of Russia," ch.
iv. It was not till July, 1812, that we formally made peace with
Russia and Sweden, and sent them pecuniary aid. We may note here that
Napoleon, in April, 1812, sent us overtures for peace, if we would
acknowledge Joseph as King of Spain and Murat as King of Naples, and
withdraw our troops from the Peninsula and Sicily: Napoleon would then
evacuate Spain. Castlereagh at once refused an offer which would have
left Napoleon free to throw his whole strength against Russia (Garden,
vol. xiii., pp. 215, 254).]

[Footnote 254: Garden, vol. xiii., p. 329.]

[Footnote 255: Hereford George, _op. cit._, pp. 34-37. Metternich
("Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 517, Eng. ed.) shows that Napoleon had also
been holding out to Austria the hope of gaining Servia, Wallachia and
Moldavia (the latter of which were then overrun by Russian troops), if
she would furnish 60,000 troops: but Metternich resisted
successfully.]

[Footnote 256: See his words to Metternich at Dresden, Metternich's
"Mems.," vol. i., p. 152; as also that he would not advance beyond
Smolensk in 1812.]

[Footnote 257: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. i., p. 226; Stern,
"Abhandlungen," pp. 350-366; Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben"; L'Abbé de
Pradt, "L'histoire de l'Ambassade de Varsovie."]

[Footnote 258: "Erinnerungen des Gen. von Boyen," vol. ii., p. 254.
This, and other facts that will later be set forth, explode the story
foisted by the Prussian General von dem Knesebeck in his old age on
Müffling. Knesebeck declared that his mission early in 1812 to the
Czar, which was to persuade him to a peaceful compromise with
Napoleon, was directly controverted by the secret instructions which
he bore from Frederick William to Alexander. He described several
midnight interviews with the Czar at the Winter Palace, in which he
convinced him that by war with Napoleon, and by enticing him into the
heart of Russia, Europe would be saved. Lehmann has shown ("Knesebeck
und Schön") that this story is contradicted by all the documentary
evidence. It may be dismissed as the offspring of senile vanity.]

[Footnote 259: "Toll," vol. i., pp. 256 _et seq._ Müffling was assured
by Phull in 1819 that the Drissa plan was only part of a grander
design which had never had a fair[*Scanner's note: fair is correct]
chance!]

[Footnote 260: Bernhardi's "Toll" (vol. i., p. 231) gives Barclay's
chief "army of the west" as really mustering only 127,000 strong,
along with 9,000 Cossacks; Bagration, with the second "army of the
west," numbered at first only 35,000, with 4,000 Cossacks; while
Tormasov's corps observing Galicia was about as strong. Clausewitz
gives rather higher estimates.]

[Footnote 261: Labaume, "Narrative of 1812," and Ségur.]

[Footnote 262: See the long letter of May 28th, 1812, to De Pradt;
also the Duc de Broglie's "Memoirs" (vol. i., ch. iv.) for the
hollowness of Napoleon's Polish policy. Bignon, "Souvenirs d'un
Diplomate" (ch. xx.), errs in saying that Napoleon charged De
Pradt--"Tout agiter, tout enflammer." At St. Helena, Napoleon said to
Montholon ("Captivity," vol. iii., ch. iii.): "Poland and its
resources were but poetry in the first months of the year 1812."]

[Footnote 263: "Toll," vol. i., p. 239; Wilson, "Invasion of Russia,"
p. 384.]

[Footnote 264: We may here also clear aside the statements of some
writers who aver that Napoleon intended to strike at St. Petersburg.
Perhaps he did so for a time. On July 9th he wrote at Vilna that he
proposed to march _both on Moscow and St. Petersburg_. But that was
while he still hoped that Davoust would entrap Bagration, and while
Barclay's retreat on Drissa seemed likely to carry the war into the
north. Napoleon always aimed first at the enemy's army; and Barclay's
retreat from Drissa to Vitepsk, and thence to Smolensk, finally
decided Napoleon's move towards Moscow. If he had any preconceived
scheme--and he always regulated his moves by events rather than by a
cast-iron plan--it was to strike at Moscow. At Dresden he said to De
Pradt: "I must finish the war by the end of September.... I am going
to Moscow: one or two battles will settle the business. I will burn
Tula, and Russia will be at my feet. Moscow is the heart of that
Empire. I will wage war with Polish blood." De Pradt's evidence is not
wholly to be trusted; but I am convinced that Napoleon never seriously
thought of taking 200,000 men to the barren tracts of North Russia
late in the summer, while the English, Swedish, and Russian fleets
were ready to worry his flank and stop supplies.]

[Footnote 265: Letter of August 24th to Maret; so too Labaume's
"Narrative," and Garden, vol. xiii., p. 418. Mr. George thinks that
Napoleon decided on August 21st to strike at Moscow on grounds of
general policy.]

[Footnote 266: Labaume, "Narrative"; Lejeune's "Mems.," vol. ii., ch.
vi.]

[Footnote 267: Marbot's "Mems." Bausset, a devoted servant to
Napoleon, refutes the oft-told story that he was ill at Borodino. He
had nothing worse than a bad cold. It is curious that such stories are
told about Napoleon after every battle when his genius did not shine.
In this case, it rests on the frothy narrative of Ségur, and is out of
harmony with those of Gourgaud and Pelet. Clausewitz justifies
Napoleon's caution in withholding his Guard.]

[Footnote 268: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon." Tolstoi ("War and
Liberty") asserts that the fires were the work of tipsy pillagers. So
too Arndt, "Mems.," p. 204. Dr. Tzenoff, in a scholarly monograph
(Berlin, 1900), comes to the same conclusion. Lejeune and Bourgogne
admit both causes.]

[Footnote 269: Garden, vol. xiii., p. 452; vol. xiv., pp. 17-19.]

[Footnote 270: Cathcart, p. 41; see too the Czar's letters in Sir Byam
Martin's "Despatches," vol. ii., p. 311. This fact shows the
frothiness of the talk indulged in by Russians in 1807 as to "our
rapacity and perfidy" in seizing the Danish fleet.]

[Footnote 271: _E.g._, the migration of Rostopchin's serfs _en masse_
from their village, near Moscow, rather than come under French
dominion (Wilson, "French Invasion of Russia," p. 179).]

[Footnote 272: Letter of October 16th; see too his undated notes
("Corresp.," No. 19237). Bausset and many others thought the best plan
would be to winter at Moscow. He also says that the Emperor's
favourite book while at Moscow was Voltaire's "History of Charles
XII."]

[Footnote 273: Lejeune, vol. ii., chap. vi. As it chanced, Kutusoff
had resolved on retreat, if Napoleon attacked him. This is perhaps the
only time when Napoleon erred through excess of prudence. Fezensac
noted at Moscow that he would not see or hear the truth.]

[Footnote 274: It has been constantly stated by Napoleon, and by most
French historians of this campaign, that his losses were mainly due to
an exceptionally severe and early winter. The statement will not bear
examination. Sharp cold usually sets in before November 6th in Russia
at latitude 55°; the severe weather which he then suffered was
succeeded by alternate thaws and slighter frosts until the beginning
of December, when intense cold is always expected. Moreover, the bulk
of the losses occurred before the first snowstorm. The Grand Army
which marched on Smolensk and Moscow may be estimated at 400,000
(including reinforcements). At Viasma, _before severe cold set in_, it
had dwindled to 55,000. We may note here the curious fact,
substantiated by Alison, that the French troops stood the cold better
than the Poles and North Germans. See too N. Senior's "Conversations,"
vol. i., p. 239.]

[Footnote 275: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon"; Wilson, pp. 271-277.]

[Footnote 276: Oudinot, "Mémoires."]

[Footnote 277: Hereford George, pp. 349-350.]

[Footnote 278: Bourgogne, ch. viii.]

[Footnote 279: Pasquier, vol. ii., _ad init._]

[Footnote 280: Colonel Desprez, who accompanied the retreat, thus
described to King Joseph its closing scenes: "The truth is best
expressed by saying that _the army is dead_. The Young Guard was 8,000
strong when we left Moscow: at Vilna it scarcely numbered 400.... The
corps of Victor and Oudinot numbered 30,000 men when they crossed the
Beresina: two days afterwards they had melted away like the rest of
the army. Sending reinforcements only increased the losses."

The following French official report, a copy of which I have found in
our F.O. Records (Russia, No. 84), shows how frightful were the losses
after Smolensk. But it should be noted that the rank and file in this
case numbered only 300 at Smolensk, and had therefore lost more than
half their numbers--and this in a regiment of the Guard.

    GARDE IMPÉRIALE: 6ème RÉGIMENT DE TIRAILLEURS.
    _l^ère Division. Situation à l'époque du 19 Décembre, 1812_.

  |---------------------------------------------------------------------------------|
  |             |     Perte depuis le départ de Smolensk                            |
  |             |------------|-----------|-----------|-----------|---------|--------|
  |Présents sous|Restés sur  |Blessés qui|Morts de   |Restés en  |Total des|Reste   |
  |les armes au |le champ    |n'ont pu   |froid ou de|en arrière |Pertes   |présents|
  |départ de    |de bataille |suivre,    |misère     |gelés, ou  |         |sous les|
  |Smolensk     |            |restés au  |           |pour cause |         |armes   |
  |             |            |pouvoir de |           |de maladie |         |        |
  |             |            |l'ennemi   |           |au pouvoir |         |        |
  |             |            |           |           |de l'ennemi|         |        |
  |-----|-------|------------|------|--- |------|----|------|----|-----|---|----|---|
  | Off.|Tr.    | Off. |Tr.  | Off. |Tr. | Off. |Tr. | Off. |Tr. | Off.|Tr.|Off.|Tr.|
  | 31  |300    |  --  |13   |  4   | 52 |  --  | 24 |  13  |201 | 17  |290| 14 |10 |
  |-----|-------|------|-----|------|----|------|----|------|----|-----|---|----|---|
                          _Signé_ le Colonel Major Commandant
                                         le dit Regiment.  CARRÉ.

    Les autres régiments sont plus
    ou moins dans le même état.]

[Footnote 281: "Corresp.," December 20th, 1812. For the so-called
Concordat of 1813, concluded with the captive Pius VII. at
Fontainebleau, see "Corresp." of January 25th, 1813. The Pope
repudiated it at the first opportunity. Napoleon wanted him to settle
at Avignon as a docile subject of the Empire.]

[Footnote 282: Mollien, vol. iii., _ad fin._ For his vague offers to
mitigate the harsh terms of Tilsit for Prussia, and to grant her a
political existence if she would fight for him, see Hardenberg,
"Mems.," vol. iv., p. 350.]

[Footnote 283: Walpole reports (December 19th and 22nd, 1812)
Metternich's envy of the Russian successes and of their occupation of
the left bank of the Danube. Walpole said he believed Alexander would
grant Austria a set-off against this; but Metternich seemed entirely
Bonapartist ("F.O.," Russia, No. 84). See too the full account, based
on documentary evidence, in Luckwaldt's "Oesterreich und die Anfange
des Befreiungskrieges" (Berlin, 1898).]

[Footnote 284: Hardenberg, "Mems.," vol. iv., p. 366.]

[Footnote 285: Oncken, "Oesterreich und Preussen," vol. ii.; Garden,
vol. xiv., p. 167; Seeley's "Stein," vol. ii., ch. iii.]

[Footnote 286: Arndt, "Wanderungen"; Steffens, "Was ich erlebte."]

[Footnote 287: At this time she had only 61,500 men ready for the
fighting line; but she had 28,000 in garrison and 32,000 in Pomerania
and Prussia (Proper), according to Scharnhorst's report contained in
"F.O.," Russia, No. 85.]

[Footnote 288: Letters of March 2nd and 11th.]

[Footnote 289: Metternich's "Memoirs," vol. i., p. 159; Luckwaldt,
_op. cit._, ch. vi.]

[Footnote 290: See the whole note in Luckwaldt, Append. No. 4.]

[Footnote 291: Oncken, _op. cit._, vol. ii., p. 205. So too
Metternich's letter to Nesselrode of April 21st ("Memoirs," vol. i.,
p. 405, Eng. ed.): "I beg of you to continue to confide in me. If
Napoleon will be foolish enough to fight, let us endeavour not to meet
with a reverse, which I feel to be only too possible. One battle lost
for Napoleon, and all Germany will be under arms."]

[Footnote 292: "F.O.," Austria, No. 105. Doubtless, as Oncken has
pointed out with much acerbity, Castlereagh's knowledge that Austria
would suggest the modification of our maritime claims contributed to
his refusal to consider her proposal for a general peace: but I am
convinced, from the tone of our records, that his chief motive was his
experience of Napoleon's intractability and a sense of loyalty to our
Spanish allies: we were also pledged to help Sweden and Russia.]

[Footnote 293: Letters of April 24th.]

[Footnote 294: Napoleon's troops in Thorn surrendered on April 17th;
those in Spandau on April 24th (Fain, "Manuscrit de 1813," vol. ii.,
ch. i.).]

[Footnote 295: Oncken, vol. ii., p. 272.]

[Footnote 296: Cathcart's report in "F.O.," Russia, No. 85. Müffling
("Aus meinem Leben") regards the delay in the arrival of
Miloradovitch, and the preparations for defence which the French had
had time to make at Gross Görschen, as the causes of the allies'
failure. The chief victim on the French side was Bessières, commander
of the Guard.]

[Footnote 297: "Corresp.," Nos. 20017-20031. For his interview with
Bubna, see Luckwaldt, p. 257.]

[Footnote 298: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iii., pp. 490-492. Marmont
gives the French 150,000; Thiers says 160,000.]

[Footnote 299: In his bulletin Napoleon admitted having lost 11,000 to
12,000 killed and wounded in the two days at Bautzen; his actual
losses were probably over 20,000. He described the allies as having
150,000 to 160,000 men, nearly double their actual numbers.]

[Footnote 300: Müffling, "Aus meinem Leben."]

[Footnote 301: "Lettres inédites." So too his letters to Eugène of
June 11th and July 1st; and of June 11th, 17th, July 6th and 29th, to
Augereau, who was to threaten Austria from Bavaria.]

[Footnote 302: See his conversation with our envoy, Thornton, reported
by the latter in the "Castlereagh Letters," 2nd series, vol. iv., p.
314.]

[Footnote 303: "Castlereagh Letters," 2nd series, vol. iv., p. 344.]

[Footnote 304: Garden, vol. xiv., p. 356. We also stipulated that
Sweden should not import slaves into Guadeloupe, and should repress
the slave trade. When, at the Congress of Vienna, that island was
given back to France, we paid Bernadotte a money indemnity.]

[Footnote 305: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," June 18th, 1813. See
too that of July 16th, _ibid._]

[Footnote 306: Letters of F. Perthes.]

[Footnote 307: Joseph to Marmont, July 21st, 1812.]

[Footnote 308: "Méms. du Roi Joseph," vols. viii. and ix.; Napier,
book xix., ch. v.]

[Footnote 309: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 195.]

[Footnote 310: Napier and Alison say March 18th, which is refuted by
the "Méms. du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 131.]

[Footnote 311: _Ibid._, vol. ix., p. 464.]

[Footnote 312: As a matter of fact he had 50,000 there for three
months, and did not succeed. See Clarke's letter to Clausel, "Méms. du
Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 251.]

[Footnote 313: Stanhope's "Conversations with Wellington," p. 20.]

[Footnote 314: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 60.]

[Footnote 315: Thiers, bk. xlix.; "Nap. Corresp.," No. 20019;
Baumgarten vol i., p. 577.]

[Footnote 316: "Mémoires du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., pp. 284, 294.
Joseph's first order to Clausel was sent under protection of _an
escort of 1,500 men_.]

[Footnote 317: See Lord Melville's complaint as to Wellington's
unreasonable charges on this head in the "Letters of Sir B. Martin"
("Navy Records," 1898).]

[Footnote 318: Miot de Melito, vol. ii., ch. xviii.]

[Footnote 319: Clausel afterwards complained that if he had received
any order to that effect he could have pushed on so as to be at
Vittoria ("Méms. du Roi Joseph," vol. ix., p. 454). The muster-rolls
of the French were lost at Vittoria. Napier puts their force at
70,000; Thiers at 54,000; Jourdan at 50,000.]

[Footnote 320: Wellington's official account of the fight states that
the French got away only two of their cannon; and Simmons, "A British
Rifleman," asserts that the last of these was taken near Pamplona on
the 24th. Wellington generously assigned much credit to the Spanish
troops--far more than Napier will allow.]

[Footnote 321: Ducasse, "Les rois, frères de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 322: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," July 1st, 3rd, 15th,
and 20th.]

[Footnote 323: Stadion to Metternich, May 30th, June 2nd and 8th; in
Luckwaldt, p. 382.]

[Footnote 324: Cathcart's "most secret" despatch of June 4/16* from
Reichenbach. Just a month earlier he reported that the Czar's
proposals to Austria included all these terms in an absolute form, and
also the separation of Holland from France, the restoration of the
Bourbons to Spain, and "L'Italie libre dans toutes ses parties du
Gouvernement et de l'influence de la France." Such were also
Metternich's _private_ wishes, with the frontier of the Oglio on the
S.W. for Austria. See Oncken, vol. ii., p. 644. The official terms
were in part due to the direct influence of the Emperor Francis.]

[Footnote 325: In a secret article of the Treaty we promised to
advance to Austria a subsidy of £500,000 as soon as she should join
the allies.]

[Footnote 326: Martens, vol. ix., pp. 568-575. Our suspicion of
Prussia reappears (as was almost inevitable after her seizure of
Hanover), not only in the smallness of the sum accorded to her--for we
granted £2,000,000 in all to the Swedish, Hanseatic, and Hanoverian
contingents--but also in the stipulation that she should assent to the
eventual annexation of the formerly Prussian districts of East Frisia
and Hildesheim to Hanover. We also refused to sign the Treaty of
Reichenbach until she, most unwillingly, assented to this prospective
cession. This has always been thought in Germany a mean transaction;
but, as Castlereagh pointed out, those districts were greatly in the
way of the development of Hanover. Prussia was to have an indemnity
for the sacrifice; and we bore the chief burden in the issue of
"federative paper notes," which enabled the allies to prepare for the
campaign ("Castlereagh Papers," 2nd series, vol. iv., p. 355; 3rd
series, vol. i., pp. 7-17; and "Bath Archives," vol. ii., p. 86).
Moreover, we were then sending 30,000 muskets to Stralsund and Colberg
for the use of Prussian troops (Despatch from "F.O.," July 28th, to
Thornton, "Sweden," No. 79). On July 6th we agreed to pay the cost of
a German Legion of 10,000 men under the Czar's orders. Its Commissary
was Colonel Lowe.]

[Footnote 327: For the official reports see Garden, vol. xiv., pp.
486-499; also Bausset's account, "Cour de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 328: Any account of a private interview between two astute
schemers must be accepted with caution; and we may well doubt whether
Metternich really was as firm, not to say provocative, as he
afterwards represented in his "Memoirs." But, on the whole, his
account is more trustworthy than that of Fain, Napoleon's secretary,
in his "Manuscrit de 1813," vol. ii., ch. ii. Fain places the
interview on June 28th; in "Napoleon's Corresp." it is reprinted, but
assigned to June 23rd. The correct date is shown by Oncken to have
been June 26th. Bignon's account of it (vol. xii., ch. iv.) is marked
by his usual bias.]

[Footnote 329: Cathcart reported, on July 8th, that Schwarzenberg had
urged an extension of the armistice, so that Austria might meet the
"vast and unexpected" preparations of France ("Russia," No. 86).]

[Footnote 330: "Russia," No. 86.]

[Footnote 331: Thornton's despatch of July 12th ("Castlereagh Papers,"
2nd Series, vol. iv., _ad fin._).]

[Footnote 332: _Ibid._, pp. 383 and 405.]

[Footnote 333: For details see Oncken, Luckwaldt, Thiers, Fain, and
the "Mems." of the Duc de Broglie; also Gentz, "Briefe an Pilat," of
July 16th-22nd, 1813. Humboldt, the Prussian ambassador, reported on
July 13th to Berlin that Metternich looked on war as quite
unavoidable, and on the Congress merely as a means of convincing the
Emperor Francis of the impossibility of gaining a lasting peace.]

[Footnote 334: Thiers; Ernouf's "Maret, Duc de Bassano," p. 571.]

[Footnote 335: Bignon "Hist. de France," vol. xii., p. 199; Lefebvre,
"Cabinets de l'Europe," vol. v., p. 555.]

[Footnote 336: Letter of July 29th.]

[Footnote 337: Gentz to Sir G. Jackson, August 4th ("Bath Archives,"
vol. ii., p. 199). For a version flattering to Napoleon, see Ernouf's
"Maret" (pp. 579-587), which certainly exculpates the Minister.]

[Footnote 338: Metternich, "Memoirs," vol. ii., p. 546 (Eng. ed.).]

[Footnote 339: "F.O.," Russia, No. 86. A letter of General Nugent
(July 27th), from Prague, is inclosed. When he (N.) expressed to
Metternich the fear that Caulaincourt's arrival there portended peace,
M. replied that this would make no alteration, "as the proposals were
such that they certainly would not be accepted, and they would even be
augmented."]

[Footnote 340: "Souvenirs du Duc de Broglie," vol. i., ch. v.]

[Footnote 341: British aims at this time are well set forth in the
instructions and the accompanying note to Lord Aberdeen, our
ambassador designate at Vienna, dated Foreign Office, August 6th,
1813: " ... Your Lordship will collect from these instructions that a
general peace, in order to provide adequately for the tranquillity and
independence of Europe, ought, in the judgment of His Majesty's
Government, to confine France at least within the Pyrenees, the Alps,
and the Rhine: and if the other Great Powers of Europe should feel
themselves enabled to contend for such a Peace, Great Britain is fully
prepared to concur with them in such a line of policy. If, however,
the Powers most immediately concerned should determine, rather than
encounter the risks of a more protracted struggle, to trust for their
own security to a more imperfect arrangement, it never has been the
policy of the British Government to attempt to dictate to other States
a perseverance in war, which they did not themselves recognize to be
essential to their own as well as to the common safety." As regards
details, we desired to see the restoration of Venetia to Austria, of
the Papal States to the Pope, of the north-west of Italy to the King
of Sardinia, but trusted that "a liberal establishment" might be found
for Murat in the centre of Italy. Napoleon knew that we desired to
limit France to the "natural frontiers" and that we were resolved to
insist on our maritime claims. As our Government took this unpopular
line, and went further than Austria in its plans for restricting
French influence, he had an excellent opportunity for separating the
Continental Powers from us. But he gave out that those Powers were
bought by England, and that we were bent on humiliating France.]

[Footnote 342: Boyen, "Erinnerungen," Pt. III., p. 66.]

[Footnote 343: Fain, vol. ii., p. 27. The italicized words are given
thus by him; but they read like a later excuse for Napoleon's
failures.]

[Footnote 344: "Commentaries on the War in Russia and Germany," p.
195.]

[Footnote 345: In his letters of August 16th to Macdonald and Ney he
assumed that the allies might strike at Dresden, or even as far west
as Zwickau: but meanwhile he would march "pour enlever Blücher."]

[Footnote 346: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon." The Emperor forwarded
this suggestion to Savary (August 11th): it doubtless meant an issue
of false paper notes, such as had been circulated in Russia the year
before.]

[Footnote 347: Cathcart, "Commentaries," p. 206.]

[Footnote 348: "Extrait d'un Mémoire sur la Campagne de 1813." With
characteristic inaccuracy Marbot remarks that the defection of Jomini,
_with Napoleon's plans_, was "a disastrous blow." The same is said by
Dedem de Gelder, p. 328.]

[Footnote 349: The Emperor's eagerness is seen by the fact that on
August 21st he began dictating despatches, at Lauban, at 3 a.m. On the
previous day he had dictated seventeen despatches; twelve at Zittau,
four after his ride to Görlitz, and one more on his arrival at Lauban
at midnight.]

[Footnote 350: Letters of August 23rd to Berthier.]

[Footnote 351: Boyen, vol. iii., p. 85. But see Wiehr, "Nap. und
Bernadotte in 1813," who proves how risky was B.'s position, with the
Oder fortresses, held by the French, on one flank, and Davoust and the
Danes on the other. He disposes of many of the German slanders against
Bernadotte.]

[Footnote 352: Hausser, pp. 260-267. Oudinot's "Memoirs" throw the
blame on the slowness of Bertrand in effecting the concentration on
Grossbeeren and on the heedless impetuosity of Reynier. Wiehr (pp.
74-116) proves from despatches that Bernadotte meant to attack the
French _south of Berlin_: he discredits the "bones" anecdote.]

[Footnote 353: Letters of August 23rd.]

[Footnote 354: So called to distinguish it from the two other Neisses
in Silesia.]

[Footnote 355: Blasendorfs "Blücher"; Müffling's "Aus meinem Leben"
and "Campaigns of the Silesian Army in 1813 and 1814"; Bertin's "La
Campagne de 1813." Hausser assigns to the French close on 60,000 at
the battle; to the allies about 70,000.]

[Footnote 356: Jomini, "Vie de Napoléon," vol. iv., p. 380; "Toll,"
vol. iii., p. 124.]

[Footnote 357: "Toll," vol. iii., p. 144. Cathcart reports (p. 216)
that Moreau remarked to him: "We are already on Napoleon's
communications; the possession of the town [Dresden] is no object; it
will fall of itself at a future time." If Moreau said this seriously
it can only be called a piece of imbecility. The allies were far from
safe until they had wrested from Napoleon one of his strong places on
the Elbe; it was certainly not enough to have seized Pirna.]

[Footnote 358: "Corresp." No. 20461.]

[Footnote 359: Cathcart's "Commentaries," p. 230: Bertin, "La Campagne
de 1813," p. 109; Marmont, "Mems.," bk. xvii.; Sir Evelyn Wood's
"Achievements of Cavalry."]

[Footnote 360: It is clear from Napoleon's letters of the evening of
the 27th that he was not quite pleased with the day's work, and
thought the enemy would hold firm, or even renew the attack on the
morrow. They disprove Thiers' wild statements about a general pursuit
on that evening, thousands of prisoners swept up, etc.]

[Footnote 361: Vandamme on the 28th received a reinforcement of
eighteen battalions, and thenceforth had in all sixty-four; yet Marbot
credits him with only 20,000 men.]

[Footnote 362: Thiers gives Berthier's despatch in full. See also map,
p. 336.]

[Footnote 363: Marmont, bk. xvii., p. 158. He and St. Cyr ("Mems.,"
vol. iv., pp. 120-123) agree as to the confusion of their corps when
crowded together on this road. Napoleon's aim was to insure the
capture of all the enemy's cannon and stores; but his hasty orders had
the effect of blocking the pursuit on the middle road. St. Cyr sent to
headquarters for instruction; but these were now removed to Dresden;
hence the fatal delay.]

[Footnote 364: Thiers has shown that Mortier did not get the order
from Berthier to support Vandamme _until August 30th_. The same is
true of St. Cyr, who did not get it till 11.30 a.m. on that day. St.
Cyr's best defence is Napoleon's letter of September 1st to him
("Lettres inédites de Napoléon"): "That unhappy Vandamme, who seems to
have killed himself, had not a sentinel on the mountains, nor a
reserve anywhere.... I had given him positive orders to intrench
himself on the heights, to encamp his troops on them, and only to send
isolated parties of men into Bohemia to worry the enemy and collect
news." With this compare Napoleon's approving statement of August 29th
to Murat ("Corresp.," No. 20486): "Vandamme was marching on Teplitz
_with all his corps_."]

[Footnote 365: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon," September 3rd.]

[Footnote 366: Häusser, vol. iv., p. 343, and Boyen, "Erinnerungen,"
vol. ii., pp. 345-357, for Bernadotte's suspicious delays on this day;
also Marmont, bk. xviii., for a critique on Ney. Napoleon sent for
Lejeune, then leading a division of Ney's army, to explain the
disaster; but when Lejeune reached the headquarters at Dohna, south of
Dresden, the Emperor bade him instantly return--a proof of his
impatience and anger at these reverses.]

[Footnote 367: Thornton, our envoy at Bernadotte's headquarters, wrote
to Castlereagh that that leader's desire was to spare the Swedish
corps; he expected that Bernadotte would aim at the French crown
("Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., pp. 48-59). See too Boyen,
vol. ii., p. 378.]

[Footnote 368: Letter of October 10th to Reynier. This and his letter
to Maret seem to me to refute Bernhardi's contention ("Toll," vol.
iii., pp. 385-388) that Napoleon only meant to drive the northern
allies across the Elbe, and then to turn on Schwarzenberg. The
Emperor's plans shifted every few hours: but the plan of crossing the
Elbe in great force was distinctly prepared for.]

[Footnote 369: Thiers asserts that he had. But if so, how could the
Emperor have written to Macdonald (October 2nd) that the Silesian army
had made a move on Grossenhain: "It appears that this is so as to
attack the intrenched camp (at Dresden) by the side of the plain, by
the roads of Berlin and Meissen."? On the same day he scoffs at
Lefebre-Desnoëttes for writing that Bernadotte had crossed the Elbe,
and retorts that if he had, it would be so much the worse for him: the
war would soon be over.]

[Footnote 370: Letter of October 10th to Reynier. This and his letter
to Maret seem to me to refute Bernhardi's contention ("Toll," vol.
iii., pp. 385-388) that Napoleon only meant to drive the northern
allies across the Elbe, and then to turn on Schwarzenberg. The
Emperor's plans shifted every few hours: but the plan of crossing the
Elbe in great force was distinctly prepared for.]

[Footnote 371: Martens, "Traités," vol. ix., p. 610. This secret
bargain cut the ground from under the German unionists, like Stein,
who desired to make away with the secondary princes, or strictly to
limit their powers.]

[Footnote 372: Thiers and Bernhardi ("Toll," vol. iii., p. 388) have
disposed of this fiction.]

[Footnote 373: Sir E. Wood, "Achievements of Cavalry."]

[Footnote 374: "Corresp.," No. 20814. Marmont, vol. v., p. 281,
acutely remarks that Napoleon now regarded as true only that which
entered into his combinations and his thoughts.]

[Footnote 375: Bernadotte was only hindered from retreat across the
Elbe by the remonstrances of his officers, by the forward move of
Blücher, and by the fact that the Elbe bridges were now held by the
French. For the council of war at Köthen on October 14th, see Boyen,
vol. ii., p. 377.]

[Footnote 376: Müffling, "Campaign of 1813."]

[Footnote 377: Colonel Lowe, who was present, says it was won and lost
five times (unpublished "Memoirs").]

[Footnote 378: Napoleon's bulletin of October 16th, 1813, blames Ney
for this waste of a great corps; but it is clear, from the official
orders published by Marmont (vol. v., pp. 373-378), that Napoleon did
not expect any pitched battle on the north side on the 16th. He
thought Bertrand's corps would suffice to defend the north and west,
and left the defence on that side in a singularly vague state.]

[Footnote 379: Dedem de Gelder, "Mems.," p. 345, severely blames
Napoleon's inaction on the 17th; either he should have attacked the
allies before Bennigsen and Bernadotte came up, or have retreated
while there was time.]

[Footnote 380: Lord Burghersh, Sir George Jackson, Odeleben, and Fain
all assign this conversation to the night of the 16th; but Merveldt's
official account of it (inclosed with Lord Cathcart's despatches),
gives it as on October 17th, at 2 p.m. ("F.O.," Russia, No. 86). I
follow this version rather than that given by Fain.]

[Footnote 381: That the British Ministers did not intend anything of
the kind, even in the hour of triumph, is seen by Castlereagh's
despatch of November 13th, 1813, to Lord Aberdeen, our envoy at the
Austrian Court: "We don't wish to impose any dishonourable condition
upon France, which limiting the number of her ships would be: but she
must not be left in possession of this point [Antwerp]" ("Castlereagh
Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., p. 76).]

[Footnote 382: Boyen describes the surprising effects of the fire of
the British rocket battery that served in Bernadotte's army. Captain
Bogue brought it forward to check the charge of a French column
against the Swedes. He was shot down, but Lieutenant Strangways poured
in so hot a fire that the column was "blown asunder like an ant-heap,"
the men rushing back to cover amidst the loud laughter of the allies.]

[Footnote 383: The premature explosion was of course due, not to
Napoleon, but to the flurry of a serjeant and the skilful flanking
move of Sacken's light troops, for which see Cathcart and Marmont. The
losses at Leipzig were rendered heavier by Napoleon's humane refusal
to set fire to the suburbs so as to keep off the allies. He rightly
said he could have saved many thousand French had he done so. This is
true. But it is strange that he had given no order for the
construction of other bridges. Pelet and Fain affirm that he gave a
verbal order; but, as Marbot explains, Berthier, the Chief of the
Staff, had adopted the pedantic custom of never acting on anything
less than _a written order_, which was not given. The neglect to
secure means for retreat is all the stranger as the final miseries at
the Beresina were largely due to official blundering of the same kind.
Wellington's criticism on Napoleon's tactics at Leipzig is severe
(despatch of January 10th, 1814): "If Bonaparte had not placed himself
in a position that every other officer would have avoided, and
remained in it longer than was consistent with any ideas of prudence,
he would have retired in such a state that the allies could not have
ventured to approach the Rhine."]

[Footnote 384: Sir Charles Stewart wrote (March 22nd, 1814): "On the
Elbe Napoleon was quite insane, and his lengthened stay there was the
cause of the Battle of Leipzig and all his subsequent misfortunes"
("Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 373).]

[Footnote 385: Napier, vol. v., pp. 368-378.]

[Footnote 386: On November 10th Lord Aberdeen, our ambassador at the
Austrian Court, wrote to Castlereagh: " ... As soon as he [Murat]
received the last communication addressed to him by Prince Metternich
and myself at Prague, he wrote to Napoleon and stated that the affairs
of his kingdom absolutely demanded his presence. Without waiting for
any answer, he immediately began his journey, and did not halt a
moment till he arrived at Basle. While on the road he sent a cyphered
dispatch to Prince Cariati, his Minister at Vienna, in which he
informs him that he hopes to be at Naples on the 4th of this month:
that he burns with desire to revenge himself of [_sic_] all the
injuries he has received from Bonaparte, and to connect himself with
the cause of the allies in contending for a just and stable peace. He
proposes to declare war on the instant of his arrival." Again, on
December 19th, Aberdeen writes: "You may consider the affair of Murat
as settled.... It will probably end in Austria agreeing to his having
a change of frontier on the Papal territory, just enough to satisfy
his vanity and enable him to show something to his people. I doubt
much if it will be possible, with the claims of Sicily, Sardinia, and
Austria herself in the north of Italy, to restore to him the three
Legations: but something adequate must be done" ("Austria," No. 102).
The disputes between Murat and Napoleon will be cleared up in Baron
Lumbroso's forthcoming work, "Murat." Meanwhile see Bignon, vol.
xiii., pp. 181 _et seq._; Desvernois, "Mems.," ch. xx.; and Chaptal
(p. 305), for Fouché's treacherous advice to Murat.]

[Footnote 387: Lady Burghersh's "Journal," p. 182.]

[Footnote 388: Fain, "Manuscrit de 1814," pp. 48-63. Ernouf, "Vie de
Maret," p. 606, states that Napoleon touched up Maret's note; the
sentence quoted above is doubtless the Emperor's. The same author
proves that Maret's advice had always been more pacific than was
supposed, and that now, in his old position of Secretary of State, he
gave Caulaincourt valuable help during the negotiations at Châtillon.]

[Footnote 389: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. i., p. 74. This
was written, of course, before he heard of the Frankfurt proposals;
but it anticipates them in a remarkable way. Thiers states that
Castlereagh, after hearing of them, sent Aberdeen new instructions. I
cannot find any in our archives. This letter warned Aberdeen against
any compromise on the subject of Antwerp; but it is clear that
Castlereagh, when he came to the allied headquarters, was a partisan
of peace, as compared with the Czar and the Prussian patriots.
Schwarzenberg wrote (January 26th) at Langres: "We ought to make peace
here: our Kaiser, also Stadion, Metternich, even Castlereagh, are
fully of this opinion--but Kaiser Alexander!"]

[Footnote 390: Fournier, "Der Congress von Châtillon," p. 242.]

[Footnote 391: "Castlereagh Papers," _loc. cit._, p. 112.]

[Footnote 392: Metternich. "Memoirs," vol. i., p. 214.]

[Footnote 393: "F.O.," Austria, No. 102.]

[Footnote 394: "Lettres inédites" (November 6th, 1813).]

[Footnote 395: The memorandum is endorsed, "Extract of Instructions
delivered to me by Gen. Pozzo di Borgo, 18 Dec, 1813" ("Russia," No.
92).]

[Footnote 396: Metternich's letter to Hudelist, in Fournier, p. 242.]

[Footnote 397: Houssaye's "1814," p. 14; Metternich, "Memoirs," vol.
i., p. 308.]

[Footnote 398: "Our success and everything depend upon our moderation
and justice," he wrote to Lord Bathurst (Napier, bk. xxiii., ch.
ii.).]

[Footnote 399: "Lettres inédites" (November 12th). The date is
important: it refutes Napier's statement (bk. xxiii., ch. iv.) that
the Emperor had planned that Ferdinand should enter Spain early in
November when the disputes between Wellington and the Cortès at Madrid
were at their height. Bignon (vol. xiii., p. 88 _et seq._) says that
Talleyrand's indiscretion revealed the negotiations to the Spanish
Cortès and Wellington; but our general's despatches show that he did
not hear of them before January 9th or 10th. He then wrote: "I have
long suspected that Bonaparte would adopt this expedient; and if he
had had less pride and more common sense, it would have succeeded."]

[Footnote 400: On January 14th the Emperor ordered Soult, as soon as
the ratification of the treaty*treatry was known, to set out
northwards from Bayonne "with all his army, only leaving what is
necessary to form a screen." Suchet was likewise to hurry with 10,000
foot, _en poste_, and two-thirds of his horse, to Lyons. On the 22nd
the Emperor blames both Marshals for not sending off the infantry,
though the Spanish treaty had _not_ been ratified. After long delays
Ferdinand set out for Spain on March 13th, when the war was almost
over.]

[Footnote 401: Houssaye's "1814," ch. ii.; Müffling's "Campaign of
1814."]

[Footnote 402: Letter of January 31st to Joseph.]

[Footnote 403: "Méms. de Langeron" in Houssaye, p. 62; but see
Müffling.]

[Footnote 404: Letter of February 2nd to Clarke.]

[Footnote 405: Metternich said of Castlereagh, "I can't praise him
enough: his views are most peaceful, in our sense" (Fournier, p.
252).]

[Footnote 406: Castlereagh to Lord Liverpool, January 22nd and 30th,
1814.]

[Footnote 407: Letter to Hudelist (February 3rd), in Fournier, p.
255.]

[Footnote 408: Stewart's Mem. of January 27th, 1814, in "Castlereagh
Papers," vol. ix., p. 535. On that day Hardenberg noted in his diary:
"Discussion on the plan of operations, and misunderstandings. Intrigue
of Stein to get the army straight to Paris, as the Czar wants. The
Austrians oppose this: others don't know what they want" (Fournier, p.
361).]

[Footnote 409: Stewart's notes in "Castlereagh Papers," pp. 541-548.
On February 17th Castlereagh promised to give back all our conquests
in the West Indies, except Tobago, and to try to regain for France
Guadaloupe and Cayenne from Sweden and Portugal; also to restore all
the French possessions east of the Cape of Good Hope except the Iles
de France (Mauritius) and de Bourbon (Fournier, p. 381).]

[Footnote 410: Letters of January 31st and February 2nd to Joseph.]

[Footnote 411: Printed in Napoleon's "Corresp." of February 17th. I
cannot agree with Ernouf, "Vie de Maret," and Fournier, that
Caulaincourt could have signed peace merely on Maret's "carte blanche"
despatch. The man who had been cruelly duped by Napoleon in the
D'Enghien affair naturally wanted an explicit order now.]

[Footnote 412: Given by Ducasse, "Les Rois Frères de Napoléon," p.
64.]

[Footnote 413: Hausser, p. 503. According to Napoleon, 6,000 men and
forty cannon were captured!]

[Footnote 414: Letter of February 18th, 1814.]

[Footnote 415: At Elba Napoleon told Colonel Campbell that he would
have made peace at Châtillon had not England insisted on his giving up
Antwerp, and that England was therefore the cause of the war
continuing. This letter, however, proves that he was as set on
retaining Mainz as Antwerp. Caulaincourt then wished him to make peace
while he could do so with credit ("Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p.
287).]

[Footnote 416: Fournier, pp. 132-137, 284-294, 299.]

[Footnote 417: See Metternich's letter to Stadion of February 15th in
Fournier, pp. 319, 327.]

[Footnote 418: Houssaye, p. 102.]

[Footnote 419: Instructions of February 24th to Flahaut, "Corresp.,"
No. 21359; Hardenberg's "Diary," in Fournier, pp. 363-364.]

[Footnote 420: Fournier, pp. 170, 385.]

[Footnote 421: _Ibid._, pp. 178-181, 304; Martens, vol. ix., p. 683.
Castlereagh, vol. ix., p. 336, calls it "my treaty," and adds that
England was practically supplying 300,000 men to the Coalition. One
secret article invited Spain and Sweden to accede to the treaty;
another stated that Germany was to consist of a federation of
sovereign princes, that Holland must receive a "suitable" military
frontier, and that Italy, Spain, and Switzerland must be independent,
that is, of France; a third bound the allies to keep their armies on a
war footing for a suitable time after the peace.]

[Footnote 422: See his instructions of March 2nd to Caulaincourt:
"Nothing will bring France to do anything that degrades her national
character and deposes her from the rank she has held in the world for
centuries." But it was precisely that rank which the allies were
resolved to assign to her, neither more nor less. The joint allied
note of February 29th to the negotiators at Châtillon bade them
"announce to the French negotiator that you are ready to discuss, in a
spirit of conciliation, every modification that he might be authorized
to propose"; but that any essential departure from the terms already
proposed by them must lead to a rupture of the negotiations.]

[Footnote 423: Letters of March 2nd, 3rd, 4th, to Clarke.]

[Footnote 424: Houssaye, p. 156, note. So too Müffling, "Aus meinem
Leben," shows that Blücher could have crossed the Aisne there or at
Pontavaire or Berry-au-Bac.]

[Footnote 425: See Napoleon's letters to Clarke of March 4th-6th.]

[Footnote 426: Houssaye, pp. 176-188.]

[Footnote 427: Müffling says that Blücher and Gneisenau feared an
attack by _Bernadotte_ on their rear. Napoleon on February 25th
advised Joseph to try and gain over that prince, who had some very
suspicious relations with the French General Maison in Belgium.
Probably Gneisenau wished to spare his men for political reasons.]

[Footnote 428: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iv., p. 697. Lord Burghersh
wrote from Troyes (March 12th): "I am convinced this army will not be
risked in a general action.... S. would almost wish to be back upon
the Rhine." So again on the 19th he wrote to Colonel Hudson Lowe from
Pougy: "I cannot say much for our activity; I am unable to explain the
causes of our apathy--the facts are too evident to be disputed. We
have been ten days at Troyes, one at Pont-sur-Seine, two at Arcis, and
are now at this place. We go tomorrow to Brienne" ("Unpublished Mems.
of Sir H. Lowe"). Stewart wittily said that Napoleon came to Arcis to
feel Schwarzenberg's pulse.]

[Footnote 428: Letters of March 20th to Clarke.]

[Footnote 430: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., pp. 325, 332.]

[Footnote 431: These letters were written in pairs--the one being
official, the other confidential. Caulaincourt's replies show that he
appreciated them highly (see Fain, Appendix).]

[Footnote 432: From Caulaincourt's letter of March 3rd to Napoleon;
Bignon, vol. xiii., p. 379.]

[Footnote 433: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 555.]

[Footnote 434: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., pp. 335, 559.
Caulaincourt's project of March 15th much resembled that dictated by
Napoleon three days later; Austria was to have Venetia as far as the
Adige, the kingdom of Italy to go to Eugène, and the duchy of Warsaw
to the King of Saxony, etc. The allies rejected it (Fain, p. 388).]

[Footnote 435: Fournier, p. 232, rebuts, and I think successfully,
Houssaye's objections (p. 287) to its genuineness. Besides, the letter
is on the same moral level with the instructions of January 4th to
Caulaincourt, and resembles them in many respects. No forger could
have known of those instructions. At Elba, Napoleon admitted that he
was wrong in not making peace at this time. "_Mais je me croyais assez
fort pour ne pas la faire, et je me suis trompé_" (Lord Holland's
"Foreign Rem.," p. 319). The same writer states (p. 296) that he saw
the official correspondence about Châtillon: it gave him the highest
opinion of Caulaincourt, but N.'s conduct was "full of subterfuge and
artifice."]

[Footnote 436: Castlereagh to Clancarty, March 18th.]

[Footnote 437: Napier, bk. xxiv., ch. iii. Wellington seems to have
thought that the allies would probably make peace with Napoleon.]

[Footnote 438: Broglie, "Mems.," bk. iii., ch. i.]

[Footnote 439: Letter of February 25th to Joseph. Thiébault gives us
an odd story that Bernadotte sent an agent, Rainville, to persuade
Davoust to join him in attacking the rear of the allies; but that
Rainville's nerve so forsook him in Davoust's presence that he turned
and bolted for his life!]

[Footnote 440: Caulaincourt to Metternich on March 25th: "Arrived only
this [last] night near the Emperor, His Majesty has ... given me all
the powers necessary to sign peace with the Ministers of the allied
Courts" (Fain, p. 345; Ernouf, "Vie de Maret," p. 634).

Thiers does not mention these overtures of Napoleon, which are surely
most characteristic. His whole eastward move was motived by them.
Efforts have been made (_e.g._, by M. de Bacourt in Talleyrand's
"Mems.," pt. vii., app. 4) to prove that on the 25th Napoleon was
ready to agree to all the allied terms, and thus concede more than was
done by Louis XVIII. But there is no proof that he meant to do
anything of the sort. The terms of Caulaincourt's note were perfectly
vague. Moreover, even on the 28th, when Napoleon was getting alarmed,
he had an interview with a captured Austrian diplomatist, Wessenberg,
whom he set free in order that he might confer with the Emperor
Francis. He told the envoy that France would yet give him support: he
wanted the natural frontiers, but would probably make peace on less
favourable terms, as he wished to end the war: "I am ready to renounce
all the French colonies if I can thereby keep the mouth of the Scheldt
for France. England will not insist on my sacrificing Antwerp if
Austria does not support her" (Arneth's "Wessenberg," vol. i., p.
188). This extract shows no great desire to meet the allied terms, but
rather to separate Austria from her allies. According to Lady
Burghersh ("Journals," p. 216), Napoleon admitted to Wessenberg that
his position was desperate. I think this was a pleasing fiction of
that envoy. There is no proof that Napoleon was wholly cast down till
the 29th, when he heard of La Fère Champenoise (Macdonald's
"Souvenirs").]

[Footnote 441: Bignon, vol. xiii., pp. 436, 437.]

[Footnote 442: On hearing of their withdrawal Stein was radiant with
joy: "Now, he said, the Czar will go on to Paris, and all will soon be
at an end" (Tourgueneff quoted by Häusser, vol. iv., p. 553).]

[Footnote 443: Bernhardi's "Toll," vol. iv., pp. 737 _et seq._;
Houssaye, pp. 354-362; also Nesselrode's communication published in
Talleyrand's "Mems." Thielen and Radetzky have claimed that the
initiative in this matter was Schwarzenberg's; and Lord Burghersh, in
his despatch of March 25th ("Austria," No. 110), agrees with them.
Stein supports Toll's claim. I cannot agree with Houssaye (p. 407)
that "Napoleon had resigned himself to the sacrifice of Paris." His
intercepted letter, and also the official letters, Nos. 21508, 21513,
21516, 21526, 21538, show that he believed the allies would retreat
and that his communications with Paris would be safe.]

[Footnote 444: I take this account largely from Sir Hudson Lowe's
unpublished memoirs. Napoleon blamed Marmont for not marching to
Rheims as he was ordered to do. At Elba, Napoleon told Colonel
Campbell that Marmont's disobedience spoilt the eastern movement, and
ruined the campaign. But had Marmont and Mortier joined Napoleon at
Vitry, Paris would have been absolutely open to the allies.]

[Footnote 445: Houssaye, pp. 485 _et seq._; Napoleon's letters of
February 8th and March 16th; Mollien, vol. iv., p. 128. In Napoleon's
letter of April 2nd to Joseph ("New Letters") there is not a word of
reproach to Joseph for leaving Paris.]

[Footnote 446: "Castlereagh Papers," vol. ix., p. 420; Pasquier, vol.
iii., ch. xiii.]

[Footnote 447: We do not know definitely why Alexander dropped
Bernadotte so suddenly. On March 17th he had assured the royalist
agent, Baron de Vitrolles, that he would not hear of the Bourbons, and
that he had first thought of establishing Bernadotte in France, and
then Eugène. We do know, however, that Bernadotte had made suspicious
overtures to the French General Maison in Belgium ("Castlereagh
Papers," vol. ix., pp. 383, 445, 512).]

[Footnote 448: De Pradt, "Restauration de la Royauté, le 31 Mars,
1814"; Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xiii. Vitrolles ("Mems.," vol. i., pp.
95-101) says that Metternich assured him on March 15th that Austria
would not insist on the Regency of Marie Louise, but would listen to
the wishes of France.]

[Footnote 449: For the first draft of this Declaration, see
"Corresp.," No. 21555 (note).]

[Footnote 450: Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xv.; Macdonald, "Souvenirs."]

[Footnote 451: Houssaye, pp. 593-623; Marmont, vol. vi., pp. 254-272;
Macdonald, chs. xxvii.-xxviii. At Elba, Napoleon told Lord Ebrington
that Marmont's troops were among the best, and his treachery ruined
everything ("Macmillan's Mag.," Dec, 1894).]

[Footnote 452: Pasquier, vol. iii., ch. xvi.; "Castlereagh Papers,"
vol. ix., p. 442. Alison wrongly says that _Napoleon_ chose Elba.]

[Footnote 453: Martens, vol. ix., p. 696.]

[Footnote 454: Thiers and Constant assign this event to the night of
11th-12th. I follow Fain and Macdonald in referring it to the next
night.]

[Footnote 455: Bausset, "Cour de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 456: Sir Neil Campbell's "Journal," p. 192.]

[Footnote 457: Ussher, "Napoleon's Last Voyages," p. 29.]

[Footnote 458: A quondam Jacobin, Pons (de l'Hérault), Commissioner of
Mines at Elba, has left "Souvenirs de l'Ile d'Elbe," which are of
colossal credulity. In chap. xi. he gives tales of plots to murder
Napoleon--some of them very silly. In part ii., chap, i., he styles
him "essentiellement réligieux," and a most tender-hearted man, who
was compelled by prudence to hide his sensibility! Yet Campbell's
official reports show that Pons, _at that time_, was far from admiring
Napoleon.]

[Footnote 459: "F.O.," Austria, No. 117. Talleyrand, in his letters to
Louis XVIII., claims to have broken up the compact of the Powers. But
it is clear that fear of Russia was more potent than Talleyrand's
_finesse_. Before the Congress began Castlereagh and Wellington
advised friendship with France so as to check "undue pretensions"
elsewhere.]

[Footnote 460: Stanhope's "Conversations," p. 26. In our archives
("Russia," No. 95) is a suspicious letter of Pozzo di Borgo, dated
Paris, July 10/22, 1814, to Castlereagh (it is not in his Letters)
containing this sentence: "_L'existence de Napoléon_, comme il était
aisé à prévoir, est un inconvénient qui se rencontre partout." For
Fouché's letter to Napoleon, begging him voluntarily to retire to the
New World, see Talleyrand's "Mems.," pt. vii., app. iv. Lafayette
("Mems.," vol. v., p. 345) asserts that French royalists were plotting
his assassination. Brulart, Governor of Corsica, was suspected by
Napoleon, but, it seems, wrongly (Houssaye's "1815," p. 172).]

[Footnote 461: Pallain, "Correspondance de Louis XVIII avec
Talleyrand," pp. 307, 316.]

[Footnote 462: "Recollections," p. 16; "F.O.," France, No. 114. The
facts given above seem to me to refute the statements often made that
the allies violated the Elba arrangement and so justified his escape.
The facts prove that the allies sought to compel Louis XVIII. to pay
Napoleon the stipulated sum, and that the Emperor welcomed the
non-payment. His words to Lord Ebrington on December 6th breathe the
conviction that France would soon rise.]

[Footnote 463: Fleury de Chaboulon's "Mems.," vol. i., pp. 105-140;
Lafayette, vol. v., p. 355.]

[Footnote 464: Campbell's "Journal"; Peyrusse, "Mémorial," p. 275.]

[Footnote 465: Houssaye's "1815," p. 277.]

[Footnote 466: Guizot, "Mems.," ch. iii.; De Broglie, "Mems.," bk.
ii., ch. ii.; Fleury, vol. i., p. 259.]

[Footnote 467: Peyrusse, "Mémorial," p. 277.]

[Footnote 468: As Wellington pointed out ("Despatches," May 5th,
1815), the phrase "il s'est livré à la vindicte publique" denotes
public justice, _not_ public vengeance. At St. Helena, Napoleon told
Gourgaud that he came back _too soon_ from Elba, _believing that the
Congress had dissolved!_ (Gourgaud's "Journals," vol. ii., p. 323.)]

[Footnote 469: "Diary," April 15th and 18th, 1815.]

[Footnote 470: "Parl. Debates"; Romilly's "Diary," vol. ii., p. 360.]

[Footnote 471: Napoleon told Cockburn during his last voyage that he
bestowed this constitution, not because it was a wise measure, but as
a needful concession to popular feeling. The continental peoples were
not fit for representative government as England was ("Last Voyages of
Nap.," pp. 115, 137). So, too, he said to Gourgaud he was wrong in
summoning the Chambers at all "_especially as I meant to dismiss them
as soon as I was a conqueror_" (Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 93).]

[Footnote 472: Mercer's "Waterloo Campaign," vol. i., p. 352. For
Fleury de Chaboulon's mission to sound Austria, see his "Mems.," vol.
ii., and Madelin's "Fouché," ch. xxv.]

[Footnote 473: In the "English Hist. Review" for July, 1901, I have
published the correspondence between Sir Hudson Lowe
(Quartermaster-General of our forces in Belgium up to May, 1815) and
Gneisenau, Müffling, and Kleist. These two last were _most reluctant_
to send forward Prussian troops into Belgium to guard the weak
frontier fortresses from a _coup de main_: but Lowe's arguments
prevailed, thus deciding the main features of the war.]

[Footnote 474: "F.O.," France, No. 116. On June 9th the Duke charged
Stuart, our envoy at Ghent, to defend this course, on the ground that
Blücher and he had many raw troops, and could not advance into France
with safety and invest fortresses until the Russians and Austrians
co-operated.]

[Footnote 475: Sir H. Vivian states ("Waterloo Letters," No. 70) that
the Duke intended to give a ball on June 21st, the anniversary of
Vittoria. See too Sir E. Wood's "Cavalry in the Waterloo Campaign,"
ch. ii.]

[Footnote 476: "F.O.," France, No. 115. A French royalist sent a
report, dated June 1st, recommending "point d'engagement avec
Bonaparte.... Il faut user l'armée de Bonaparte: elle ne peut plus se
recruter."]

[Footnote 477: Ropes's "Campaign of Waterloo," ch. v.; Chesney,
"Waterloo Lectures," p. 100; Sir H. Maxwell's "Wellington" (vol. ii.,
p. 14); and O'Connor Morris, "Campaign of 1815," p. 97.]

[Footnote 478: Janin, "Campagne de Waterloo," p. 7.]

[Footnote 479: Pétiet, "Souvenirs militaires," p. 195.]

[Footnote 480: Credit is primarily due to Constant de Rebecque, a
Belgian, chief of staff to the Prince of Orange, for altering the
point of concentration from Nivelles, as ordered by Wellington, to
Quatre Bras; also to General Perponcher for supporting the new
movement. The Belgian side of the campaign has been well set forth by
Boulger in "The Belgians at Waterloo" (1901).]

[Footnote 481: Gourgaud, "Campagne de 1815," ch. iv.]

[Footnote 482: Houssaye, "1815," pp. 133-138, 186, notes.]

[Footnote 483: Hamley, "Operations of War," p. 187.]

[Footnote 484: For Gérard's delays see Houssaye, p. 158, and
Horsburgh, "Waterloo," p. 36. Napoleon's tardiness is scarcely noticed
by Houssaye or by Gourgaud; but it has been censured by Jomini,
Charras, Clausewitz, and Lord Wolseley.]

[Footnote 485: Ollech (p. 125) sees in it a conditional offer of help
to Blücher. But on what ground? It states that the Prince of Orange
has one division at Quatre Bras and other troops at Nivelles: that the
British reserve would reach Genappe at noon, and their cavalry
Nivelles at the same hour. How could Blücher hope for help from forces
so weak and scattered? See too Ropes (note to ch. x.). Horsburgh (ch.
v.) shows that Wellington believed his forces to be more to the front
than they were: he traces the error to De Lancey, chief of the staff.
But it is fair to add that Wellington thought very highly of De
Lancey, and after his death at Waterloo severely blamed subordinates.]

[Footnote 486: Stanhope, "Conversations," p. 109.]

[Footnote 487: Reiche, "Memoiren," vol. ii., p. 183.]

[Footnote 488: The term _corps_ is significant. Not till 3.15 did
Soult use the term _armée_ in speaking of Blücher's forces. The last
important sentence of the 2 p.m. despatch is not given by Houssaye (p.
159), but is printed by Ropes (p. 383), Siborne (vol. i., p. 453),
Charras (vol. i., p. 136), and Ollech (p. 131). It proves that _as
late as 2 p.m._ Napoleon expected an easy victory over the Prussians.]

[Footnote 489: The best authorities give the Prussians 87,000 men, and
the French 78,000; but the latter estimate includes the corps of
Lobau, 10,000 strong, which did not reach Fleurus till dark.]

[Footnote 490: I follow Houssaye's solution of this puzzle as the
least unsatisfacty, but it does not show why Napoleon should have been
so perplexed. D'Erlon debouched from the wood of Villers Perwin
_exactly where he might have been expected_. Was Napoleon puzzled
because the corps was heading south-east instead of east?]

[Footnote 491: Delbrück ("Gneisenau," vol. ii., p. 190) shows how the
storm favoured the attack.]

[Footnote 492: I here follow Delbrück's "Gneisenau" (vol. ii., p. 194)
and Charras (vol. i., p. 163). Reiche ("Mems.," vol ii., p. 193) says
that his corps of 30,800 men lost 12,480 on the 15th and 16th: he
notes that Blücher and Nostitz probably owed their escape to the
plainness of their uniforms and headgear.]

[Footnote 493: "Waterloo Letters," Nos. 163 and 169, prove that the
time was 3 p.m. and not 3.30; see also Kincaid's account in Fitchett's
"Wellington's Men" (p. 120).]

[Footnote 494: "Waterloo Letters," No. 169.]

[Footnote 495: See Houssaye, p. 205, for the sequence of these
events.]

[Footnote 496: Ollech, pp. 167-171. Colonel Basil Jackson, in his
"Waterloo and St. Helena" (printed for private circulation), p. 64,
states that he had been employed in examining and reporting on the
Belgian roads, and did so on the road leading south from Wavre. This
report had been sent to Gneisenau, and must have given him greater
confidence on the night of the 16th.]

[Footnote 497: O'Connor Morris, p. 176, approves Napoleon's criticism,
and censures Gneisenau's move on Wavre: but surely Wavre combined more
advantages than any other position. It was accessible for the whole
Prussian army (including Bülow); it was easily defensible (as the
event proved); and it promised a reunion with Wellington for the
defence of Brussels. Houssaye says (p. 233) that Gneisenau did not at
once foresee the immense consequences of his action. Of course he did
not, because he was not sure of Wellington; but he took all the steps
that might lead to immense consequences, if all went well.]

[Footnote 498: Müffling, "Passages," p. 238: Charras, vol. i., p. 226,
discredits it.]

[Footnote 499: Basil Jackson, _op. cit._, p. 24; Cotton, "A Voice from
Waterloo," p. 20.]

[Footnote 500: Grouchy suppressed this despatch, but it was published
in 1842.]

[Footnote 501: Mercer, vol. i., p. 270.]

[Footnote 502: Pétiet, "Souvenirs militaires," p. 204.]

[Footnote 503: Ropes, pp. 212, 246, 359. I follow the "received"
version of this despatch. For a comparison of it with the "Grouchy"
version see Horsburgh, p. 155, note.]

[Footnote 504: Ropes, pp. 266, 288; Houssaye, p. 316, with a good
note.]

[Footnote 505: Ollech, pp. 187-192; Delbrück's "Gneisenau," vol. ii.,
p. 205. I cannot credit the story told by Hardinge in 1837 to Earl
Stanhope ("Conversations," p. 110), that, on the night of the 16th
June, Gneisenau sought to dissuade Blücher from joining Wellington.
Hardinge only had the story at second hand, and wrongly assigns it to
Wavre. On the afternoon of the 17th Gneisenau ordered Ziethen _to keep
open communications with Wellington_ (Ollech, p. 170). The story that
Wellington rode over to Wavre on the night of the 18th on his horse
"Copenhagen" is of course a myth.]

[Footnote 506: "Blackwood's Magazine," October, 1896; "Cornhill,"
January, 1901.]

[Footnote 507: Beamish's "King's German Legion," vol. ii., p. 352. Sir
Hussey Vivian asserts that the allied position was by no means strong;
but General Kennedy, in his "Notes on Waterloo" (p. 68), pronounces it
"good and well occupied." A year previously Wellington noted it as a
good position. Sir Hudson Lowe then suggested that it should be
fortified: "Query, in respect to the construction of a work at Mt.
Jean, being the commanding point at the junction of two principal
chaussées" ("Unpublished Memoirs").]

[Footnote 508: Wellington has been censured by Clausewitz, Kennedy and
Chesney for leaving so large a force at Hal. Perhaps he desired to
protect the King of France at Ghent, though he was surely relieved of
responsibility by his despatch of June 18th, 3 a.m., begging the Duc
de Berri to retire with the King to Antwerp. It seems to me more
likely that he was so confident of an early advance of the Prussians
(see his other despatch of the same hour and Sir A. Frazer's
statement--"Letters," p. 553--"We expected the Prussian co-operation
early in the day") as to assume that Napoleon would stake all on an
effort against his right; and in that case the Hal force would have
crushed the French rear, though it was very far off.]

[Footnote 509: Wellington to Earl Bathurst, June 25th, 1815. The Earl
of Ellesmere, who wrote under the Duke's influence, stated that not
more than 7,000 of the British troops had seen a shot fired. This is
incorrect. Picton's division, still 5,000 strong, was almost wholly
composed of tried troops; and Lambert's brigade counted 2,200
veterans; many of the Guards had seen fire, and the 52nd was a
seasoned regiment. Tomkinson (p. 296) reckons all the 5,220 British
and 1,730 King's German troopers as "efficient," and Wellington
himself, so Mercer affirms, told Blücher he had 6,000 of the finest
cavalry in the world.]

[Footnote 510: "A British Rifleman," p. 367.]

[Footnote 511: I distrust the story told by Zenowicz, and given by
Thiers, that Napoleon at 10 a.m. was awaiting Grouchy with impatience;
also Marbot's letter referred to in his "Memoirs," _ad fin._, in which
he says the Emperor bade him push on boldly towards Wavre, as the
troops near St. Lambert "could be nothing else than the corps of
Grouchy." Grouchy's despatch and the official reply show that Napoleon
knew Grouchy to be somewhere between Gembloux and Wavre. Besides,
Bülow's report (Ollech, p. 192) states that, while at St. Lambert, he
sent out two strong patrols to the S.W., and was not observed by the
French, "who appeared to have no idea of our existence." This
completely disposes of Marbot's story.]

[Footnote 512: Houssaye, ch. vii. In the "Eng. Hist. Rev." for
October, 1900, p. 815, Mr. H. George gives a proof of this, citing the
time it took him to pace the roads by which Grouchy might have
advanced.]

[Footnote 513 "Waterloo Letters," pp. 60-63, 70-77, 81-84, 383. The
whole brigade was hardly 1,000 sabres strong. Sir E. Wood, pp.
126-146; Siborne, vol. ii., pp. 20-45.]

[Footnote 514: Houssaye, pp. 354, 499, admits the repulse.]

[Footnote 515 B. Jackson, p. 34. Müffling says the defaulters numbered
10,000! While sympathizing with the efforts of Dutch-Belgian writers
on behalf of their kin, I must accept Jackson's evidence as conclusive
here. See also Mr. Oman's article in "Nineteenth Century," Oct.,
1900.]

[Footnote 516: B. Jackson, p. 35; "Waterloo Letters," pp. 129-144,
296; Cotton, p. 79.]

[Footnote 517: Houssaye, pp. 365, 371-376; Kennedy, pp. 117-120;
Mercer, vol. i., pp. 311-324.]

[Footnote 518: Gourgaud (ch. vi.) states that the time of Lobau's move
was 4.30, though he had reconnoitred on his right earlier. Napoleon's
statements on this head at St. Helena are conflicting. One says that
Lobau moved at 1.30, another at 4.30. Perhaps Janin's statement
explains why Lobau did nothing definite till the later hour.]

[Footnote 519: Baring's account ("King's German Legion," App. xxi.)
shows that the farm was taken about the time of the last great cavalry
charge. Kennedy (p. 122) and Ompteda (_ad fin._) are equally explicit;
and the evidence of the French archives adduced by Houssaye (p. 378)
places the matter beyond doubt.]

[Footnote 520: Ollech, pp. 243-246. Reiche's exorbitant claims (vol.
ii., pp. 209-215) are refuted by "Waterloo Letters," p. 22.]

[Footnote 521: Lacoste (Decoster), Napoleon's Flemish guide, told this
to Sir W. Scott, "Life of Napoleon," vol. viii., p. 496.]

[Footnote 522: See Boulger's "The Belgians at Waterloo" (1901), p.
33.]

[Footnote 523: The formation and force of the French Guards in this
attack have been much discussed. Thiers omits all notice of the second
column; Houssaye limits its force to a single battalion, but his
account is not convincing. On p. 385 he says nine battalions of the
Guard advanced into the valley, but, on p. 389, he accounts only for
six. Other authorities agree that eight joined in the attack. As to
their formation, Houssaye advances many proofs that it was in hollow
squares. Here is one more. On the 19th Basil Jackson rode along the
slope and ridge near the back of Hougoumont and talked with some of
the wounded of the Imperial Guard. "As they lay they formed large
squares, of which the centres were hollow" (p. 57). Maitland
("Waterloo Letters," p. 244.) says: "There was one great column at
first, which separated into two parts." Gawler (p. 292) adds that:
"The second column was subdivided in two parts, close together, and
that _its whole flank was much longer than the front of our 52nd
regiment_." It is difficult to reconcile all this with the attack in
hollow squares; but probably the squares (or oblongs?) followed each
other so closely as to seem like a serried column. None of our men
could see whether the masses were solid or hollow, but naturally
assumed them to be solid, and hence greatly over-estimated their
strength. A column made up of hollow squares is certainly an odd
formation, but perhaps is not unsuitable to withstand cavalry and
overthrow infantry.

I cannot accept Houssaye's statement (p. 393) that the French squares
attacked our front at four different places, from the 52nd regiment on
our right to the Brunswickers in our centre, a quarter of a mile to
the east. The only evidence that favours this is Macready's ("Waterloo
Letters," p. 330); he says that the men who attacked his square (30th
and 73rd regiments) were of the Middle Guard; for their wounded said
so; but Kelly, of the same square, thought they were Donzelot's men,
who certainly attacked there. Siborne, seemingly on the strength of
Macready's statement, says that part of the Guards' column diverged
thither: but this is unlikely. Is it credible that the Guards, less
than 4,000 strong, should have spread their attacks over a quarter of
a mile of front? Was not the column the usual method of attack? I
submit, then, that my explanation of the Guard attacking in hollow
oblongs, formed in two chief columns, harmonizes the known facts. See
Petit's "Relation" in "Eng. Hist. Rev.," April, 1903.]

[Footnote 524: Janin, p. 45.]

[Footnote 525: Bertrand at St. Helena said he _heard_ Michel utter
these words (Montholon, vol. iii., ch. iv.).]

[Footnote 526: Maitland's "Narrative," p. 222. Basil Jackson, who knew
Gourgaud well at St. Helena, learnt from him that he could not finish
his account of Waterloo, "as Napoleon could never decide on the best
way of ending the great battle: that he (Gourgaud) had suggested no
less than six different ways, but none were satisfactory" ("Waterloo
and St. Helena," p, 102). Gourgaud's "Journal" shows that Napoleon
blamed in turn the rain, Ney, Grouchy, Vandamme, Guyot, and Soult; but
he ends--"it was a fatality; for in spite of all, I should have won
that battle."]

[Footnote 527: "Lettres inédites de Napoléon."]

[Footnote 528: Gourgaud, "Journal inédit de Ste. Hélène," vol. ii., p.
321, small edit.]

[Footnote 529: Lucien, "Mems.," vol. iii., p. 327.]

[Footnote 530: Stuart's despatch of June 28th, "F.O.," France, No.
117; Gneisenau to Müffling, June 27th, "Passages," App.]

[Footnote 531: Croker ("Papers," vol. iii., p. 67) had this account
from Jaucourt, who had it from Becker.]

[Footnote 532: Ollech, pp. 350-360. The French cavalry success near
Versailles was due to exceptional circumstances.]

[Footnote 533: Maitland's "Narrative," pp. 23-39, disproves Thiers'
assertion that Napoleon was not expected there. Maitland's letter of
July 10th to Hotham ("F.O.," France, No. 126, not in the "Narrative")
ends: "It appears to me from the anxiety the bearers express to get
away, that they are very hard pressed by the Government at Paris."
Hotham's instructions of July 8th to Maitland were most stringent. See
my Essay in "Napoleonic Studies" (1904).]

[Footnote 534: The date of the letter disproves Las Cases' statement
that it was written _after_ his second interview with Maitland, and
_in consequence of_ the offers Maitland had made!

Napoleon's reference to Themistocles has been much admired. But why?
The Athenian statesman was found to have intrigued with Persia against
Athens in time of peace; he fled to the Persian monarch and was richly
rewarded _as a renegade_. No simile could have been less felicitous.]

[Footnote 535: "Narrative," p. 244. [This work has been republished by
Messrs. Blackwood, 1904.]]

[Footnote 536: "F.O.," France, No. 126; Allardyce, "Mems. of Lord
Keith."]

[Footnote 537: Maitland, pp. 206, 239-242; Montholon, vol. i., ch.
iii.]

[Footnote 538: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. ii., pp.
434,438. Beatson's Mem. is in "F.O.," France, No. 123. This and other
facts refute Lord Holland's statement ("Foreign Reminiscences," p.
196) that the Government was treating for the transfer of St. Helena
from the East India Company _early in_ 1815.--Why does Lord Rosebery,
"Napoleon: last Phase," p. 58, write that Lord Liverpool thought that
Napoleon should either (1) be handed over to Louis XVIII. to be
treated as a rebel; or (2) treated as vermin; or (3) that we would
(regretfully) detain him? In his letters to Castlereagh at Paris,
Liverpool expressly says it would be better for us, rather than any
other Power, to detain him, and writes not a word about treating him
as vermin. Lord Rosebery is surely aware that our Government and
Wellington did their best _to preclude the possibility of the
Prussians treating him as vermin_.]

[Footnote 539: Keith's letter of August 1st, in "F.O.," France, No.
123: "The General and many of his suite have an idea that if they
could but put foot on shore, no power could remove them, and they are
determined to make the attempt if at all possible: they are becoming
most refractory."]

[Footnote 540: In our Colonial Office archives, St. Helena, No. 1, is
a letter of August 2nd, 1815, from an Italian subject of Napoleon
(addressed] to Mme. Bertrand, but really for him), stating that
£16,000 had been placed in good hands for his service, one-fourth of
which would be at once intrusted to firms at New York, Boston,
"Philadelfi," and Charlestown, to provide means for effecting his
escape, and claiming again "le plus beau trône de l'univers." It begs
him to get his departure from Plymouth put off, for a plot had been
formed by discontented British officers to get rid of the Premier and
one other Minister. Napoleon must not build any hopes on the Prince
Regent: "Le Silène de cette isle.... Je fonds donc mon espoir avant
tout sur les navires marchands, Anglais comme autres, par l'apas du
gain." The writer's name is illegible: so is the original postmark:
the letter probably came from London: it missed Mme. Bertrand at
Plymouth, followed her to St. Helena, and was opened by Sir G.
Cockburn, who sent it back to our Government. I have published it _in
extenso_ in my volume, "Napoleonic Studies " (1904), as also an
accompanying letter from Miss McKinnon of Binfield, Berks, to
Napoleon, stating that her mother, still living, had known him and
given him hospitality when a lieutenant at Valence.]

[Footnote 541: Las Cases, "Mémorial," vol, i., pp. 55, 65.]

[Footnote 542: I wish I had space to give a whole chapter to the
relations between Napoleon and the Whigs, and to show how their
championship of him worked mischief on both sides in 1803-21, enticing
him on to many risky ventures, and ruining the cause of Reform in
England for a generation.]

[Footnote 543: "F.O.," France, No. 123. Keith adds: "I accompanied him
to look at the accommodation on board the 'Northumberland,' with which
he appeared to be well satisfied, saying, 'the apartments are
convenient, and you see I carry my little tent-bed with me.'" The
volume also contains the letter of Maingaud, etc. Bertrand requested
permission from our Government to return in a year; Gourgaud, when his
duty to his aged mother recalled him; O'Meara stipulated that he
should still be a British surgeon on full pay and active service.]

[Footnote 544: "Extract from a Diary of Sir G. Cockburn," pp. 21, 51,
94.]

[Footnote 545: "Napoleon's last Voyages," p. 163.]

[Footnote 546: I found this return in "Admiralty Secret Letters,"
1804-16.

Lord Rosebery, in his desire to apologize for our treatment of
Napoleon at every point, says ("Nap.: last Phase," p. 64): "They [the
exiles] were packed like herrings in a barrel. The 'Northumberland,'
it was said, had been arrested on her way back from India in order to
convey Napoleon: all the water on board, it was alleged, had also been
to India, was discoloured and tainted, as well as short in
quantity."--On the contrary, the diary of Glover, in "Last Voyages of
Nap.," p. 91, shows that the ship was in the Medway in July, and was
fitted out at Portsmouth (where it was usual to keep supplies of
water): also (p. 99) that Captain Ross gave up his cabin to the
Bertrands, and Glover his to the Montholons: Gourgaud and Las Cases
slept in the after cabin until cabins could be built for them. We have
already seen (p. 529) that Napoleon was well satisfied with his own
room. Water, wine, cattle, and fruit were taken in at Funchal in spite
of the storm.]

[Footnote 547: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 47, 59 (small
edition); "Last Voyages of Nap.," p. 198.]

[Footnote 548: Sir G. Bingham's Diary in "Blackwood's Mag.," October,
1896, and "Cornhill," January, 1901.]

[Footnote 549: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 64.]

[Footnote 550: "Last Voyages," p. 130.]

[Footnote 551: "Castlereagh Papers," 3rd series, vol. ii., pp. 423,
433, 505; Seeley's "Stein," vol. iii., pp. 333-344.]

[Footnote 552: See Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. ii., p. 315, for
Napoleon's view as to our stupidity then: "In their place I would have
stipulated that I alone could sail and trade in the eastern seas. It
is ridiculous for them to leave Batavia (Java) to the Dutch and L'Ile
de Bourbon to the French."]

[Footnote 553: Forsyth, "Captivity of Napoleon," vol. i., p. 218.
Plantation House was also the centre of the semaphores of the island.]

[Footnote 554: Mrs. Abell ("Betsy" Balcombe), "Recollections," ch.
vii. These were compiled twenty-five years later, and are not, as a
rule, trustworthy, but the "blindman's buff" is named by Glover.
Balcombe later on infringed the British regulations, along with
O'Meara.]

[Footnote 555: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 77, 94, 136, 491.]

[Footnote 556: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., pp. 135, 298. See too
"Cornhill" for January, 1901.]

[Footnote 557: Surgeon Henry of the 66th, in "Events of a Military
Life," ch. xxviii., writes that he found side by side at Plantation
House the tea shrub and the English golden-pippin, the bread-fruit
tree and the peach and plum, the nutmeg overshadowing the gooseberry.
In ch. xxxi. he notes the humidity of the uplands as a drawback, "but
the inconvenience is as nothing compared with the comfort, fertility,
and salubrity which the clouds bestow." He found that the soldiers
enjoyed far better health at Deadwood Camp, behind Longwood, than down
in Jamestown.]

[Footnote 558: Despatch of Jan. 12th, 1816, in Colonial Office, St.
Helena, No. 1.]

[Footnote 559: Lord Rosebery ("Napoleon: last Phase," p. 67),
following French sources, assigns the superiority of force to Lowe;
but the official papers published by Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 397-416,
show that the reverse was the case. Lowe had 1,362 men; the French,
about 3,000.]

[Footnote 560: From a letter in the possession of Miss Lowe.]

[Footnote 561: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 139-147.]

[Footnote 562: See the interview in "Monthly Rev.," Jan., 1901.]

[Footnote 563: Bingham's Diary in "Cornhill" for Jan., 1901; Gourgaud,
vol. i., pp. 152, 168.]

[Footnote 564: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 171-177.]

[Footnote 565: Lowe's version (Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 247-251) is fully
borne out by Admiral Malcolm's in Lady Malcolm's "Diary of St.
Helena," pp. 55-65; Gourgaud was not present.]

[Footnote 566: B. Jackson's "Waterloo and St. Helena," pp. 90-91. The
assertion in the article on B. Jackson, in the "Dict. of Nat.
Biography," that he was related to Lowe, and therefore partial to him,
is incorrect. Miss Lowe assures me that he did not see her father
before the year 1815.]

[Footnote 567: "Mems. of a Highland Lady," p. 459.]

[Footnote 568: In "Blackwood's," Oct., 1896, and "Cornhill," Jan.,
1901. I cannot accept Stürmer's hostile verdict on Lowe as that of an
impartial witness. The St. Helena Records show that Stürmer persisted
in evading the Governor's regulations by secretly meeting the French
Generals. He was afterwards recalled for his irregularities. Balmain,
the Russian, and Montchenu, the French Commissioner, are fair to him.
The latter constantly pressed Lowe _to be stricter with Napoleon_! See
M. Firmin-Didot's edition of Montchenu's reports in "La Captivité de
Ste. Hélène," especially App. iii. and viii.]

[Footnote 569: "Waterloo and St. Helena," p. 104.]

[Footnote 570: Lowe had the "Journal" copied out when it came into his
hands in Dec., 1816. This passage is given by Forsyth, vol. i., p. 5,
and by Seaton, "Sir H. Lowe and Napoleon," p. 52.]

[Footnote 571: An incident narrated to the present writer by Sir
Hudson Lowe's daughter will serve to show how anxious was his
supervision of all details and all individuals on the island. A
British soldier was missed from the garrison; and as this occurred at
the time when Napoleon remained in strict seclusion, fear was felt
that treachery had enabled him to make off in the soldier's uniform.
The mystery was solved a few days after, when a large shark was caught
near the shore, and on its being cut open the remains of the soldier
were found!

It should be remembered that Lowe prevailed on the slave-owners of the
island to set free the children of slaves born there on and after
Christmas Day, 1818.]

[Footnote 572: Quoted by Forsyth, vol. i., p. 289. This letter of
course finds no place in O'Meara's later malicious production, "A
Voice from St. Helena"; the starvation story is there repeated _as if
it were true_!--That Napoleon was fastidious to the last is proved by
the archives of our India Office, which contain the entry (Dec. 11th,
1820): "The storekeeper paid in the sum of £105 on account of 48 dozen
of champagne rejected by General Bonaparte" (Sir G. Birdwood's "Report
on the Old Records of the India Office," p. 97).]

[Footnote 573: Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 330-343, 466-475.]

[Footnote 574: I have quoted this _in extenso_ in "The Owens College
Historical Essays." May not the words "domiciled" and "employed" have
aroused Lowe's suspicions of Balcombe and O'Meara? Napoleon always
said that he did not wish to escape, and hoped only for a change of
Ministry in England. But what responsible person could trust his words
after Elba, where he repeatedly told Campbell that he had done with
the world and was a dead man?]

[Footnote 575: Forsyth, vol. i., p. 310, vol. ii., p. 142, vol. iii.,
pp. 151, 250; Montholon, "Captivity of Napoleon," vol. iii., ch. v.;
Firmin-Didot, App. vi. The schemes named by Forsyth are ridiculed by
Lord Rosebery ("Last Phase," p. 103). But would he have ignored them,
had he been in Bathurst's place?]

[Footnote 576: Gourgaud, "Journal," vol. i., p. 105.]

[Footnote 577: He said to Gourgaud that, _if he had the whole island
for exercise he would not go out_ (Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. ii., p.
299).]

[Footnote 578: Gourgaud's "Journal," vol. i., pp. 262-270, 316. Yet
Montholon ("Captivity of Napoleon," vol. i., ch. xiii.), afterwards
wrote of Las Cases' departure: "_We all loved the well-informed and
good man, whom we had pleasure in venerating as a Mentor.... He was an
immense loss to us!_"]

[Footnote 579: Gourgaud, vol. i., p. 278; Forsyth, vol. i., pp.
381-384, vol. ii., p. 74. Bonaparte wanted this "Journal" to be given
back to him: but Las Cases would not hear of this, as it contained
"_ses pensées_." It was kept under seal until Napoleon's death, and
then restored to the compiler.]

[Footnote 580: Henry, vol. ii., p. 48; B. Jackson, pp. 99-101; quoted
by Seaton, pp. 159-162.]

[Footnote 581: Forsyth, vol. iii., p. 40; Gourgaud's "Journal," vol.
ii., pp. 531-537.]

[Footnote 582: "Apostille" of April 27th, 1818. As to the new house,
see Forsyth, vol. i., pp. 212, 270; vol. iii., pp. 51,257; it was
ready when Napoleon's illness became severe (Jan., 1821).

If the plague of rats was really very bad, why is it that Gourgaud
made so little of it?]

[Footnote 583: "Journal" of Oct. 4th, 1817. On the return voyage to
England Mme. Bertrand told Surgeon Henry that secret letters had
constantly passed between Longwood and England, through two military
officers; but the passage above quoted shows who was the culprit.]

[Footnote 584: Forsyth, vol. iii., pp. 153, 178-181.]

[Footnote 585: Stürmer's "Report" of March 14th, 1818; Gourgaud's
"Journal" of Sept. 11th and 14th, 1817.]

[Footnote 586: Described by Bertrand to Lowe on May 12th, 1821 ("St.
Helena Records," No. 32).]

[Footnote 587: Lord Holland, "Foreign Reminiscences," p. 305.]

[Footnote 588: Gourgaud, vol. i., pp. 297, 540, 546; vol. ii., pp. 78,
130, 409, 425. See Las Cases, "Mémorial," vol. iv., p. 124, for
Napoleon's defence of polygamy. See an Essay on Napoleon's religion in
my "Napoleonic Studies" (1904).]

[Footnote 589: Lord Holland's "Foreign Reminiscences," p. 316; Colonel
Gorrequer's report in "Cornhill" of Feb., 1901.]

[Footnote 590: "Colonial Office Records," St. Helena, No. 32; Henry,
"Events of a Military Life," vol. ii., pp. 80-84: h also states that
Antommarchi, when about to sign the report agreed on by the English
doctors, was called aside by Bertrand and Montholon, and thereafter
declined to sign it: Antommarchi afterwards issued one of his own,
laying stress on cancer _and enlarged liver_, thus keeping up
O'Meara's theory that the illness was due to the climate of St. Helena
and want of exercise. In our records is a letter of Montholon to his
wife of May 6th, 1821, which admits the contrary: "C'est dans notre
malheur une grande consolation pour nous d'avoir acquis la preuve que
sa mort n'est, et n'a pu être, en aucune manière le résultat de sa
captivité." Yet, on his return to Europe, Montholon stoutly maintained
that the liver complaint endemic to St. Helena had been the death of
his master. It is, however, noteworthy that on his death-bed Napoleon
urged Bertrand to be reconciled to Lowe. He and Montholon accordingly
went to Plantation House, where, according to all appearance, the dead
past was buried.]






INDEX


  Abdication, the Second, ii. 515.

  Abell, Mrs., ii. 541.

  Aberdeen, Lord, ii. 361, 369, 371, 372, 374-375. 390, 410.

  Aboukir, i. 192-193, 201.

  Aboukir, battle of, i. 213.

  Abrantès, Duchesse d', i. 426.

  Acre, i. 201, 204-210, 413.

  Acton, Gen., i. 435.

  Adams, Gen., ii. 502, 508.

  Adda River, i. 93.

  Addington, i. 310, 321, 402, 420-427, 452.

  Additional Act, the, ii. 450-451.

  Adige, i. 101, 107, 122, 123, 124, 132;
    River, i. 263.

  Adye, Capt., ii. 441-442.

  Ajaccio, i. 4-6, 12, 30-32, 34, 36, 38-41, 215.

  Alessandria, i. 88, 250-258, 259.

  Alexander I., i. 339.

  Alexander, Czar, i. 263, 333, 338-340, 387-388, 395, 406-408, 419-425,
    430-432; ii. 1-3, 5-11, 20, 29-31, 33-36, 42, 58, 63,
    81, 82, 86-87, 90, 108, 110, 114-116, 125-132, 134-137,
    144-145, 175, 179-183, 185-186, 202, 205-207, 209, 229,
    231-236, 241-243, 258-259, 273-276, 285, 290, 296-297,
    316-318, 321-322, 335, 344-345, 347, 372, 374, 381,
    386-388, 400, 408, 415-420, 423-424, 426-430, 433, 437,
    447, 448, 538, 546.

  Alexander the Great, i. 33, 202, 213.

  Alexandria, i. 187-189, 192, 214.

  Algesiras, i. 313.

  Alix, Gen., ii. 496, 497.

  Alkmaar, i. 217.

  Alps, the, i. 92.

  Alten, Gen., ii. 474, 499, 504.

  Alvintzy, i. 121, 131-136.

  Amiens, Treaty of, i. 331, 336-354, 405.

  _Ancien régime, L'_, i. 25, 27, 31.

  Andréossi, i. 215.

  Angoulême, Duc d', ii. 414-415.

  Ansbach, ii. 20, 30, 44.

  Antibes, i. 60; ii. 442.

  Antigua, i. 498.

  Antommarchi, ii. 568, 570.

  Antwerp, i. 439; ii. 399.

  Apennines, i. 90, 91, 92.

  Arcis, battle of, ii. 409.

  Arcola, i. 123-128.

  Aréna, i. 303-304, 307.

  Argaum, i. 377.

  Arisch, El, i. 203-204.

  Armed Neutrality League, i. 263, 331.

  Armenia, i. 201.

  Arndt, ii. 274, 278, 373.

  Arnott, Dr., ii. 571.

  Arrighi, ii. 404.

  Arrondissements, i. 268, 269, 323-324.

  Artois, Comte d', i. 54-55, 451, 456, 462; ii. 414, 416, 437, 443.

  Aspern-Essling, battle of, ii. 192.

  Assaye, i. 377.

  Assignats, i. 62.

  Astrakan, i. 262.

  Auerstädt, battle of, ii. 97, 98.

  Augereau, i. 82, 85, 101, 108-115, 124, 138, 161, 162,
    168, 449, 469-470, 491, 511 (App.); ii. 18, 91, 96, 97,
    101, 112, 295, 355-356, 408, 415, 422, 454.

  Aulic Council, i. 106, 121, 131.

  Austerlitz, battle of, 37-42.

  Australia, i. 379-385, 428; ii. 107, 174.

  Austria,i. 35, 37, 52, 56, 57, 77, 79, 87, 89, 96, 100, 101,
    105, 120, 128, 129, 137, 163, 164, 166-170, 183, 216,
    219, 240, 263, 265, 352, 395, 414, 500; ii. 1-3, 5-6,
    9-11, 12, 13-14, 18-26, 30-31, 42, 45-50, 58, 90-91,
    110-111, 114-115, 126-128, 155, 177-182, 187, 189-202,
    206-207, 271-272, 281-284, 289-290, 294-296, 315-317,
    324-328, 331, 354-355, 365, 380, 385-389, 399-400,
    402-403, 438, 453.

  Austrian Netherlands, i. 141.

  Auxonne, i. 22, 32-33.

  Avignon, i. 137.


  Babeuf, i. 157, 305.

  Bacciocchi, i. 153.

  Badajoz, Treaty of, i. 311.

  Baden, ii. 46, 60.

  Bagration, ii. 244, 248-249, 251-252.

  Balcombe, Mr., ii. 541, 555.

  Balearic Isles, ii. 74

  Balmain, ii. 552.

  Barbé-Marbois, ii. 60.

  Barclay, Gen., ii. 244, 248-254, 291-292, 294, 335, 419.

  Barras, i. 49, 50, 69, 70, 71, 74, 158, 159, 160, 167, 173,
    180-181, 220-221, 223, 451.

  Barrère, i. 59.

  Bartenstein, Treaty of, ii. 141.

  Barthélemy, i. 158, 162.

  Bassano, i. 117.

  Bastia, i. 30, 41.

  Batavian Republic. _See_ Holland.

  Bathurst, Earl, ii. 493, 556, 557, 558, 562.

  Baudin, Commodore, ii. 380-382.

  Baudus, Col., ii. 485.

  Bausset, i. 483; ii. 204, 255, 257, 433.

  Bautzen, battle of, ii. 291-293.

  Bavaria, ii. 46, 59, 65, 69, 189-191, 201, 354-355.

  Baylen, ii. 177.

  Baylen, battle of, ii. 170.

  Bayonne, Conventions of, ii. 166, 379 (battles of).


  Beatson, Gen., ii. 525.

  Beauharnais,Eugène, i. 215, 468, 501; ii. 10, 12, 85, 154, 195,
    216, 254-255, 260, 279-281, 284-285, 287, 294, 369,
    375, 380, 397, 411.

  Beauharnais, Hortense, i. 215, 442; ii. 515.

  Beaulieu, i. 82, 83, 85, 86, 92, 93, 101, 102.

  Becker, Gen., ii. 516-518.

  Beethoven, i. 481.

  Beet-root, ii. 223.

  Belgium, i. 141, 308; ii. 35, 54, 373, 387, 392, 399,
    402, 412, 436, 438, 441, 456-457.

  Belliard, Gen., ii. 423.

  Bennigsen, Gen., ii. 111, 114, 118-120, 123-124, 126, 140, 250, 359, 362.

  Beresford, ii. 414-415.

  Beresina, crossing of, ii. 264.

  Berg, Grand Duchy of, ii. 64.

  Berlier, i. 302.

  Berlin,
    decree of, ii. 103-105;
    University of, ii. 226, 275.

  Bernadotte,i. 220, 222, 246, 449, 451, 469-470; ii. 18-21, 36, 38,
    40, 63, 91, 94, 99-100, 111, 142, 229, 238, 296-298,
    321-323, 332-333, 335, 337-338, 350, 352, 353-354,
    357-360, 362, 369, 380, 387, 401, 416, 424.

  Bernard, Prince, ii. 462.

  Berne, i. 180, 391-395, 398-399.

  Bernier, i. 236, 274.

  Berthier, i. 76, 95, 109, 134, 135, 158, 179, 194, 214,
    234, 246, 249, 276, 468-470; ii. 64, 113, 200, 207,
    260, 335, 348, 363, 364, 392, 416, 427, 431, 432, 454,
    455.

  Berthollet, i. 182, 195, 215, 285, 487; ii. 569.

  Bertrand, ii. 18, 32, 113, 280, 292, 332-333, 337-338,
    354, 358, 359, 433, 434, 441, 481, 487, 516, 520-524,
    529-530, 535-537, 539, 542, 544, 547, 567, 572.

  Bertrand, Mme., ii. 522, 523, 527, 528, 529-530, 535-537, 542, 548.

  Bessarabia, ii. 238.

  Bessières, i. 194, 215, 258, 469-470; ii. 18, 41, 169,
    211, 255, 260, 288.

  Beyme, ii. 90.

  Bialystock, ii. 134.

  Bingham, Sir George, ii. 536, 548, 551.

  Black Forest, ii. 14-16.

  Blücher, ii. 83, 92, 98, 100, 285-286, 288, 292,
    332-333, 335-336, 338-340, 350-352, 353-354, 356, 358,
    360, 361, 362, 364, 366, 381-384, 389, 392-396, 401,
    404-407, 414, 416-419, 423, 456-457, 460, 467-473,
    476-477, 479, 480, 481, 489, 502, 510, 516-518, 537,
    545, 546.

  Bologna, i. 78, 103, 119, 128, 131.

  Bon, i. 182, 209.

  Bonaparte, Caroline, ii. 571.

  Bonaparte, Charles, i. 5-10.

  Bonaparte, Elise, i. 37, 153; ii. 10.

  Bonaparte family, the, i. 2-12, 17.

  Bonaparte, Jerome, i. 444-445, 473-474; ii. 135, 154,
    194, 216, 248-249, 352. 423, 485, 494-495.

  Bonaparte, Joseph, i. 7, 10, 13, 23, 30, 32, 73, 153,
    341, 351-354, 369-371, 424-426, 443-444, 465, 468,
    473-475; ii. 9-10, 62, 63, 85, 135, 168, 169-171, 181,
    185, 198, 201, 210, 269, 300-304, 305-313, 382, 393,
    396, 412, 416, 421-422, 423, 454, 512, 520.

  Bonaparte, Josephine, i. 73-74, 153-156, 215, 221, 304,
    327, 329, 459, 462, 472-474, 477-480; ii. 129, 133,
    182, 204-207, 515, 571.

  Bonaparte, Letizia (Madame Mère), i. 5-7, 23, 41, 468; ii. 440.

  Bonaparte, Louis, i. 32, 61, 125, 153, 442, 468, 473-475; ii. 10,
            168, 212-214, 393, 423.

  Bonaparte, Lucien, i. 21, 31, 39, 40, 179, 214,
    223-226, 228, 234, 295, 311, 369-371, 442-444, 473-475;
    ii. 162, 452, 454, 513, 514, 560.

  Bonaparte, Pauline, i. 153, 360, 363, 442; ii. 436, 440, 571.

  Borghese, Prince, i. 442.

  Borodino, battle of, ii. 254-256.

  Boulay de la Meurthe, i. 229, 234, 302, 305.

  Boulogne, i. 313, 485-503.

  Bourbon, Ile de, i. 358, 372; ii. 390, 538.

  Bourgogne, Serg., ii. 257, 261.

  Bourmont, Gen., i. 237; ii. 461.

  Bourrienne, i. 12, 13, 72, 175, 180-181, 215, 245, 303;
    ii. 157, 222.

  Boyen, Gen. von, ii. 330.

  Breisgau, i. 170, 263.

  Brescia, i. 101, 107, 108, 109, 113, 143, 144, 259.

  Breslau, Convention of, ii. 277.

  Brest, i. 160, 375.

  Brienne, battle of, ii. 383.

  Brienne, Napoleon at, i. 10-14.

  Broglie, Duc de, i. 162; ii. 246, 327, 450.

  Brueys, Admiral, i. 182-183, 192, 229.

  Bruix, i. 214, 487.

  Brulart, ii. 439.

  Brumaire, _coup d'état_ of, i. 222-228.

  Brune, Marshal, i. 70, 180, 237, 469; ii. 144, 454.

  Brunswick, Duke of, ii. 31, 91-94, 97-98, 100.

  Brunswick-Oels, Duke of, ii. 194, 474.

  Bubna, Count, ii. 289-290, 314, 321, 328.

  Budberg, Baron, ii. 74.

  Bülow, Gen. von, ii. 338, 350, 352, 381, 392, 401, 405,
    414, 460, 489, 495, 496, 502, 503, 504.

  Buonavita, ii. 568.

  Burghersh, Lady, ii. 370, 417.

  Burghersh, Lord, ii. 360, 419.

  Busaco, battle of, ii. 209.

  Buttafuoco, Comte de, i. 31.

  Bylandt, Gen., ii. 496.


  Cadiz, i. 499-502, 507.

  Cadoudal, Georges, i. 236-238, 446, 453-456, 458, 471-472.

  Cæsar, i. 187.

  Caffarelli, i. 183-184, 190, 195, 209.

  Cairo, i. 189-191, 197-199.

  Calder, i. 499, 502-504.

  Caldiero, i. 122, 123.

  Cambacérès, i. 222, 234, 289, 302, 321-322, 458,
    467-468; ii. 312, 370, 395. 513.

  Cambronne, Gen., ii. 509.

  Camel corps, i. 197.

  Campbell, Col., i. 489; ii. 420, 434, 435, 440-442.

  Campbell, Sir Neil, ii. 484, 485.

  Camperdown, i. 175.

  Campo Formio, Treaty of, i. 170-172, 263.

  Canning, ii. 116, 126, 141-143, 145, 148, 152, 169,
    185-186, 190, 199, 208.

  Cape of Good Hope, i. 166, 311-312, 314, 333, 375, 396,
    405-406, 420, 428; ii. 54, 73, 81, 82, 221, 229, 436.

  Caprara, i. 274.

  Capri, i. 4; ii. 80, 545.

  Carmel, Mount, i. 206.

  Carnot, i. 74, 75, 162, 234, 322, 451, 467, 471; ii. 446, 513, 515.

  Carteaux, i. 47, 49, 52, 70.

  Castiglione, i. 110.

  Castlereagh, i. 336; ii. 56, 116, 145, 208, 283, 296,
    322, 361, 369, 372, 386-389, 390, 400, 403, 410-411,
    426, 436, 437, 439-440, 525, 558.

  Catalonia, annexation of, ii. 210.

  Cathcart, Lord, ii. 116, 144-145, 277, 287-288,
    316-317, 321, 326, 332, 334, 364. 390.

  Catherine II., i. 138; ii. 273.

  Cattaro, i. 170.

  Caulaincourt, i. 458, 462, 468; ii. 34, 182-183, 205,
    290, 295, 323-324, 327, 354, 370-371, 374-375, 389-392,
    401, 410-413, 416-418, 422, 423, 426-428, 431-432, 444,
    515.

  Certificates of origin, ii. 104, 156, 233.

  Cervoni, i. 95.

  Ceva, i. 85, 86, 87.

  Ceylon, i. 311-312, 314-315, 333, 343.

  Chaboulon, Fleury de, ii. 441.

  Chamber of Peers, ii. 451.

  Chamber of Representatives, ii. 451.

  Champ de Mai. ii. 444, 450, 452.

  Champagny, ii. 149, 181, 185, 213.

  Champaubert, battle of, ii. 393.

  Channel Islands, the, i. 166, 175.

  Chaptal, i. 234, 285, 304-306, 316; ii. 216, 219, 224, 484.

  Charlemagne, i. 478-479; ii. 191, 227-228.

  Charles, Archduke, i. 121, 137, 196; ii. 11, 13-14, 22,
    26, 31-33, 35, 189-192, 194-195, 201.

  Charles IV., ii. 159, 161-166.

  Charles XIII., ii. 202, 238.

  Charlotte, Queen, i. 435.

  Chassé, Gen., ii. 491, 504, 506.

  Chastel, ii. 255.

  Chateaubriand, i. 282, 298, 463.

  Chatham, Earl, ii. 199.

  Châtillon, Congress of, ii. 389-392, 400, 409-412.

  Chaumont, Treaty of, ii. 402-403, 448.

  Chénier, i. 451.

  Cherasco, i. 88, 89.

  Chouans, i. 305-307.

  Cintra, Convention of, ii. 172.

  Cisalpine Republic, i. 142, 151-152, 166, 168-170,
    251-252, 264, 319, 345-349.

  Cispadane Republic, i. 119-120, 131, 142, 149, 152.

  Ciudad Rodrigo, ii. 302.

  Clarke, Gen., i. 128, 129, 130, 140, 158, 164; ii. 74,
    295, 302-303, 325, 363, 404, 421.

  Clausel, ii.  303-304, 306-307, 309, 313, 454.

  Clausewitz, ii. 244, 250, 255 _n._, 459, 466, 492.

  Clichy Club, i. 158, 161.

  Cleves, ii. 44.

  Coalition, Second, 209, 213, 216, 240-243.

  Coalition, Third, i. 500; ii. 1, 5-12, 42, 58.

  Cobenzl, Count, i. 162, 263; ii. 1, 3, 45.

  Cockburn, Admiral, ii. 451, 510, 527, 528, 531-532,
    534-535, 539-549, 545, 547.

  Code Napoleon, i. 287-294, 466; ii. 77.

  Coffee, price of, ii. 218, 223.

  Collingwood, i. 488.  Colloredo, ii. 359.

  Commercial prohibition, i. 401-402; ii. 104-106,
    156-157, 217-220, 224.

  Committee of Public Safety, i. 44, 65, 67, 162.

  Concordat, the (of 1802), i. 21, 271-284, 476; ii. 570.

  Condorcet, i. 295.

  Confederation of the Rhine, ii. 75-78, 83-84, 91, 103,
    135, 195, 229, 240, 277, 316, 324, 329-330.

  Coni, i. 88.

  Consalvi, Cardinal, i. 274-279.

  Constant, Benjamin, i. 163, 238, 320; ii. 450.

  Constant (the Valet), ii. 432.

  Constantine, Grand Duke, ii. 250.

  Constantinople, i. 182, 201-203, 210; ii. 128, 136, 175.

  Constitution of 1795, i. 66, 159, 218, 221.

  Constitution of 1799 (Year VIII.), i. 229-233, 238.

  Constitutional priests, i. 28, 164, 272, 273-277, 282.

  Consul, First, powers of, i. 231-233.

  Consulate for life, i. 321-324, 326.

  Continental System, i. 176, 436; ii. 28, 48, 49, 77,
    103-107, 144, 153-158, 174, 189-190, 193, 211-223,
    233-235, 236-237.

  "Contrat Social, Le," i. 17, 20, 26, 43, 466.

  Convention, the, i. 37, 40, 54, 57, 58, 66, 67, 68, 69, 72, 289.

  Copenhagen, bombardment of, ii. 142.

  Corbineau, Gen., ii. 263.

  Corfu, i. 168, 192-193, 413, 420-422, 434, 488; ii. 17,
    62, 82, 154, 430.

  Cornwallis, Lord, i. 337, 341, 343, 350-354, 372.

  Cornwallis, Admiral, i. 440, 491-492, 499, 502-504.

  Coronation, i. 476-477, 479-480.

  Corps Législatif, i. 230, 270, 305, 320, 321-324; ii. 377.

  Corsica, i. 1, 3-11, 14, 16, 17, 22, 23, 28-32, 34-35,
    37, 38-43, 56, 60, 61, 217, 241; ii. 430.

  Cortès, ii. 301, 379, 380.

  Corvisart, ii. 205.

  Cotton, ii. 483, 491.

  Cotton, price of, ii. 218.

  Council of Ancients, i. 66, 223-224.

  Council of Five Hundred, i. 67, 158, 162, 217, 223-226.

  Council of State, i. 230, 234, 238, 266, 269, 287,
    304-306, 320, 467, 475; ii. 451.

  Court, Mr. à, i. 435.

  Craonne, battle of, ii. 406-407, 411.

  Croatia, ii. 201.

  Croker, ii. 516.

  Cromwell, i. 33.

  Cuesta, ii. 198.

  Curaçoa, i. 311-312, 333; ii. 436.

  Cyprus, i. 215.

  Czartoryski, i. 262, 409-410, 423; ii. 5-9, 29, 54, 71,
    74, 110, 232.


  Dalberg, ii. 424-425.

  Dallemagne, i. 95.

  Dalmatia, i. 142, 168-170; ii. 45-48, 201.

  Dandolo, i. 170-172.

  Danton, i. 63.

  Dantzig, siege of, ii. 284.

  Danubian provinces, ii. 47, 135, 138, 185.

  Daru, i. 503.

  David, i. 248.

  Davidovich, i. 107, 121, 122, 127.

  Davoust, i. 182, 438, 469-470; ii. 18, 38, 91, 94,
    98-101, 112, 113, 119, 122, 193, 195, 248-249, 251-252,
    280, 296, 298-299, 325, 332, 337-338, 350, 352, 360,
    369, 408, 416, 432, 446, 454, 514, 5I7.

  Decaen, Gen., i. 373-375, 378, 381, 419, 433; ii. 454.

  Decoster, ii. 486.

  Decrès, i. 358, 363, 487, 497; ii. 176, 446.

  Dedem de Gelder, ii. 360.

  Defermon, i. 234.

  Dego, i. 85, 86.

  Delhi, i. 201.

  Demerara, i. 311-312, 333, 439; ii. 436.

  D'Enghien, Duc, i. 446, 457-463; ii. 532.

  Denmark, i. 64, 263; ii. 114, 136, 140-144, 152-153, 221,
    296-297, 380.

  Dennewitz, battle of, ii. 350.

  Denon, i. 215; ii. 517.

  Departments, French, i. 27.

  D'Erlon, Count, ii. 454, 460, 462, 470, 472-473,
    474-476, 490, 495, 498, 502, 505, 508.


  Desaix, i. 181, 182, 191, 199, 214-215, 254, 259.

  Desgenettes, i. 212.

  Desprez, Col., ii. 305.

  Diebitsch, ii. 419.

  Dijon, i. 246.

  Directors, the, i. 97, 104, 146, 218-224, 226.

  Directory, the, i. 67, 68, 75, 87, 97, 98, 99, 119,
    129, 130, 140, 143, 148, 157-160, 167-172, 177-181,
    214, 228, 300, 326.

  Divorce, i. 292.

  Divorce, the Imperial, ii. 204-205, 327.

  Dolder, i. 393.

  Dommartin, i. 47, 87, 183.

  Domont, Gen., ii. 496, 503.

  Donzelot, ii. 497, 503, 506, 507, 508.

  Doppet, i. 49, 52.

  Dörnberg, ii. 459.

  Douglas, Col., i. 208.

  Drake, Francis, i. 55, 453-454; ii. 2, 62.

  Dresden, battle of, ii. 342-347.

  Drissa, camp of, ii. 243, 249-250.

  Drouot, ii. 395, 422, 434.

  Ducos, Roger, i. 220, 223, 228, 233, 239.

  Dugommier, i. 52, 53.

  Duhesme, ii. 503.

  Dumas, Gen., i. 115, 182, 194, 285.

  Dumouriez, Gen., i. 90, 457-459, 486.

  Dundas, i. 441.

  Dunkirk, i. 175.

  Duphot, i. 179.

  Dupont, Gen., i. 70; ii. 22-23, 123, 169-170, 173.

  Duroc, i. 76, 172, 215, 327, 409, 443, 468; ii. 12, 20,
    40, 59, 101, 134, 150, 293.


  Eastern Question, i. 340, 406, 408-410, 428; ii. 47-48, 108.

  East Indies, i. 497-499.

  Ebrington, Lord, ii. 568.

  Eckmühl, battle of, ii. 191.

  Economists, i. 174.

  Education, national, i. 295-298.

  Egypt, i. 168, 175-200, 201-203, 261, 312-313, 314,
    355, 369, 411-416, 420-422, 434, 488; ii. 139, 174,
    176, 229, 529.


  Elba, i. 264, 314, 389; ii. 430, 435-442.

  Elchingen, ii. 24.

  Ellesmere, Earl of, ii. 493.

  Emmett, i. 510 (App.).

  England, i. 22, 25, 39, 41, 42, 46, 48, 54-56, 166-167,
    174, 178, 200, 216, 240, 261, 265, 307-315, 321,
    331-338, 350-354, 358, 361-363, 364, 372-378, 387-388,
    401-408, 413-438, 436-441, 450-454, 460-461, 509-510
    (App.); ii. 2, 4-9, 48, 55-58, 65-67, 69-74, 81-83,
    87-89, 90, 104-107, 114-115, 125-128, 136, 138-148,
    155-158, 185-186, 190, 199-200, 208, 211-212, 216-223,
    229, 233, 283, 317, 322, 327-328, 334, 361, 372,
    386-387, 389, 399, 402-403, 417, 432, 436-438, 447,
    453, 532, 538-539.


  England, invasion of, i. 175-178, 438-441, 482, 485-499.

  Ense, Varnhagen von, ii. 101, 177, 225.

  Erfurt, meeting at, ii. 179-185, 189, 231, 235.

  Escoiquiz, ii. 165.

  Esterhazy, Prince, ii. 410.

  Etruria,  kingdom of, i. 264, 334, 389, 420; ii. 150, 153-158.

  Eugène, Prince, of Wurtemberg, ii. 347-348.

  Eylau, battle of, ii. 111-114.

  Excelmans, Gen., ii. 481-482.


  Fain, ii. 360, 364, 371.

  Faypoult, i. 148.

  Ferdinand, Archduke, ii. 14-16, 19, 21, 24, 35.

  Ferdinand, Prince Louis, ii. 93.

  Ferdinand IV., i. 77.

  Ferdinand VII. (Spain), ii. 161-166, 379-380.

  Ferrara, i. 78, 119.

  Fesch, Cardinal, i. 468, 477; ii. 206.

  Feudalism, i. 120, 288; ii. 77-78, 178, 187.

  Fichte, ii. 177, 184, 226, 237, 286.

  Finland, ii. 175, 176, 185, 235-236.

  Fiorella, i. 114.

  Flahaut, Count, ii. 422, 479.

  Flinders, Capt., i. 380-381.

  Florence, i. 77, 104.

  Florence, Buonapartes at, i. 2, 6.

  Florence, Treaty of, i. 264.

  Florida, i. 364, 368.

  Flotilla, the Boulogne, i. 483-499.

  Fombio, i. 92, 93.

  Fontainebleau, Convention of, ii. 150, 160.

  Fontainebleau, decree of, ii. 217.

  Fontanes, i. 481.

  Forfait, i. 234.

  Forsyth, ii. 540, 550, 555, 557.

  Fouché, i. 227, 234, 302, 304, 427, 449, 451, 463,
    466-467, 472, 504; ii. 6, 182, 187-188, 213, 334, 439,
    446, 448, 514, 515, 517.

  Fox, i. 294, 414, 441; ii. 59, 70-72, 81, 83, 105, 330.

  Foy, Gen., ii. 307.

  France, i. 314.

  France, Ile de, i. 358, 372, 380; ii. 390, 412.

  France, Protestantism in, i. 283-284.

  France, University of, i. 296-297.

  Francis II., Emperor, i. 105, 117, 120, 121, 140-142,
    170, 263, 264, 406, 482; ii. 3, 9-10, 14-16, 34, 42,
    76, 197, 200-203, 239, 272-273, 283, 289, 314-315, 321,
    326, 335, 386-388, 399, 410, 417, 422, 426, 433, 436.

  Frazer, Sir A., ii. 492.

  Frederick William III., ii. 4, 30-32, 33, 42-45, 51-55,
    65, 83-87, 89-94, 98-100, 108, 127, 129-131, 177-178,
    237, 270-271, 273-277, 285, 316-317, 335, 344-345, 347,
    373, 386-388, 433.

  French Colonies, i. 357-383.

  French Republic, the, i. 38, 42, 45, 48.

  Fréjus, i. 215-217.

  Fréron, i. 54.

  Friant, ii. 36, 38, 350, 506.

  Friedland, battle of, ii. 119-124.

  Frotté, i. 235, 237.

  Fructidor, _coup d'état_, i. 157, 161-164, 217, 272.

  Fulton, i. 483-484.


  Gallican Church, i. 274.

  Gallois, M., ii. 558.

  Gantheaume, Admiral, i. 215, 234, 372, 485, 487, 489, 491-492,
    495-498.

  Garda, Lake, i. 100, 101, 106, 108, 112.

  Gardane, Gen., i. 254; ii. 117-118.

  Gaudin, i. 234, 270; ii. 446.

  Geneva, i. 180, 246, 390.

  Genoa, i. 5, 7, 55, 59, 60, 75, 82, 83, 121, 147, 182, 216,
    241, 243, 250, 334, 504; ii. 11-12.

  Gentz, ii. 91, 314, 323.

  Gérard, ii. 454, 460-461, 463, 466, 469-471, 480-482.

  Gezzar, i. 204-209.

  Gibraltar, i. 167, 175; ii. 150.

  Girard, Gen., ii. 338.

  Girondins, i. 44-46, 63, 218, 301.

  Glover, ii. 533, 534, 540, 541.

  Gneisenau, ii. 92, 125, 237, 286, 351, 366, 456, 460, 468, 476-479,
    481, 509, 516, 546.

  Godoy, i. 365-368, 437; ii. 146, 149-150, 159-161, 163-166.

  Goethe, ii. 3, 183-184, 278.

  Gohier, i. 220, 221, 223-224.

  Gourgaud, Gen., ii. 451, 461, 463, 486, 503, 509, 513,
    518, 520-524, 528, 529, 533, 535-537, 541, 542, 544,
    548, 549, 560, 561-564, 569, 572.

  Government, local, i. 267-271.

  Gower, Lord Leveson, ii. 45, 126, 128, 130, 145, 160.

  Graham, i. 83, 111, 114; ii. 310, 381.

  Great Britain. _See_ England.

  Great St. Bernard, i. 245-248.

  Grégoire, i. 467.

  Grenoble, Napoleon at, ii. 443.

  Grenville, Lord, i. 55, 166, 242, 414; ii. 59.

  Gross Görschen, ii. 287-289.

  Grossbeeren, battle of, ii. 338.

  Grouchy, ii. 120, 124, 255-256, 395, 407, 455, 463,
    464, 466, 469, 470, 480, 481, 482, 485, 487-489, 495,
    496, 505, 508, 510, 514.

  Guadeloupe, i. 358; ii. 296-297.

  Guards, National, i. 62, 69, 71.

  Gudin, ii. 487.

  Guiana, French, i. 358.

  Guizot, ii. 484.

  Gustavus IV., ii. 2, 4, 5, 144, 202, 238.

  Guyot, ii. 501, 502.


  Hagelberg, battle of, ii. 338.

  Hainau, ambush at, ii. 294.

  Hal, Wellington's force at, ii. 492.

  Halkett, ii. 508.

  Hamburg. _See_ Hanse Towns.

  Hameln, ii. 34.

  Hammond, Lord, i. 450.

  Hanau, battle of, ii. 365.

  Hanover, i. 64, 176, 436; ii. 9, 17, 30, 34, 44, 45-48, 53-57,
    65-69, 82-85, 88, 91, 135, 199, 277, 317, 361, 386.

  Hanse Towns, i. 176; ii. 73-74, 213, 214 (annexation of); 226,
            280-281, 297-299, 316, 361, 369.

  Hardenberg, ii. 11, 55, 65, 68, 89, 129, 270, 274, 276, 373, 400.

  Hardinge, ii. 459, 468, 489.

  Harel, i. 459.

  Harrowby, Earl of, ii. 5, 42, 53, 56, 57.

  Hasslach, ii. 22.

  Hatzfeld, Prince, ii. 271.

  Haugwitz, i. 432; ii. 20, 30-31, 34, 43-46, 53-55, 65-69, 83-84, 86,
    89-90.

  Hauterive, i. 278-279; ii. 149.

  Hawkesbury, Lord, i. 310, 312-314, 333-334, 338-340, 350-354, 396,
            405, 422, 431, 450, 452; ii. 56.

  Hayti. _See_ Domingo.

  Hazlitt, ii. 447.

  Heilsberg, battle of, ii. 118-119.

  Heligoland, ii. 380.

  Helvetic Republic. _See_ Switzerland.

  Henry, Surgeon, ii. 539, 543, 553, 571.

  Hesse-Cassel, i. 64; ii. 84.

  Hill, Gen., ii. 309.

  Hobart, Lord, i. 377, 382.

  Hoche, i. 63, 65, 160, 168.

  Hofer, ii. 193, 201-202.

  Hohenlinden, i. 260.

  Hohenlohe, ii. 93-97, 97-100.

  Holkar, i. 374, 377.

  Holland, i. 39, 166, 178, 242, 265, 293, 308, 314-315,
    327, 334-338, 344, 345, 376-377, 403, 405, 416, 420,
    425, 428, 433, 438, 485-486, 493, 503, ii. 1, 6, 8, 18,
    30, 35, 54, 55, 69, 103, 134, 135-137, 212-214, 361,
    369, 373, 375-376, 381, 403, 412, 436-438.

  Holland, Lord, ii. 126, 413, 567, 570.

  Holy Alliance, ii. 566.

  Holy Roman Empire, i. 141, 170, 264, 387, 478; ii. 75-76.

  Hood, Admiral, i. 50, 54-55.

  Hostages, law of, i. 220, 229.

  Hotham, Admiral, ii. 519-521.

  Hougoumont, ii. 490-491, 499, 500-505.

  Howick, Earl, ii. 116.

  Hulin, Gen., i. 460-461.

  Humbert, Gen., i. 511 (App.).

  Humboldt, ii. 226, 323.

  Hutchinson, Lord, ii. 124.

  Hyde de Neuville, i. 220, 236-237.


  Ibrahim, i. 188-191.

  Illyria, ii. 315-316, 320, 324, 326, 328.

  Imam of Muscat, i. 200.

  India, i. 176, 189, 194, 200, 210, 262, 342, 372-379,
    396, 419-420, 428-429, 431, 434; ii. 117-118, 139,
    174-176, 230.

  Ionian Isles, the, i. 168-170, 177, 314, 428, 432; ii. 9, 74, 135.

  Ireland, i. 160, 202-203, 309, 331-332, 417, 488-489, 491,
    505-506, 510-512 (App.); ii. 229.

  Iron Cross, Order of the, ii. 277.

  Istria, i. 142, 168-170; ii. 46-47.

  Italian Republic, i. 388, 420.
    Italy, i. 77, 79, 96, 100, 213, 263, 265, 345-349, 388,
    433-435, 438, 493, 497; ii. 1, 6, 10-11, 17, 46-48, 69,
    88, 103, 150, 154, 202, 324, 361, 373, 375, 380, 397,
    411, 438-439, 440.


  Italy, army of, i. 57, 61, 64, 74, 75, 76, 80, 82, 122.

  Izquierdo, Don, ii. 150, 163.


  Jackson, Col. Basil, ii. 477, 479, 499, 500, 507, 529,
    550, 552, 563.

  Jackson, Sir G., ii. 43, 314, 360, 447.

  Jacobins, the, i. 31, 35, 37, 42, 45, 47, 49, 53, 59,
    63, 64, 69, 149, 161, 218, 223, 226-228, 260, 267, 281,
    301, 302-306, 401, 427, 465-466; ii. 449.


  Jaffa, i. 201, 203-204, 211-213.

  Jamaica, i. 361.

  Janin, Count, ii. 502.

  Jaubert, i. 412.

  Java, ii. 538.

  Jefferson, i. 367, 369.

  Jena, battle of, ii. 94-97.

  Jews, the, i. 284.

  John, Archduke, ii. 195-196.

  Jomini, ii. 335, 340, 342, 466.

  Jonan, Golfe de, ii. 442.

  Joubert, i. 131, 135, 138, 219.

  Jouberthon, Madame, i. 443.

  Jourdan, i. 222, 469-470; ii. 198, 305, 307, 308-310.

  _Juges de paix_, i. 270, 323; ii. 451.

  Junot, i. 60, 61, 76, 112, 136, 138, 207, 426; ii. 151,
    160, 162, 172, 454.

  Junot, Madame, i. 64, 181, 426.


  Kalckreuth, ii. 91, 137.

  Kalisch, Treaty of, ii. 276-277.

  Katzbach, battle of the, ii. 339.

  Keith, Lord, i. 250-251, 440; ii. 526, 528, 529-530.

  Kellermann, i. 89, 90, 256, 258-259, 469; ii. 40, 474, 501, 502.

  Kennedy, Gen., ii. 457, 492, 493, 504.

  Kilmaine, i. 143.

  King's German Legion, ii. 493, 502.

  Kléber, i. 63, 182, 189, 204, 207-208, 213, 215.

  Kleist, ii. 292, 347-348, 456.

  Knesebeck, Gen., ii. 242, 275, 276, 335.

  Koran, i. 185.

  Körner, ii. 278.

  Krasnoe, battle of, ii. 262.

  Kray, Gen., i. 244.

  Krudener, Madame de, ii. 450.

  Kulm, battle of, ii. 347-349.

  Kurakin, Prince, ii. 239.

  Kutusoff, ii. 33, 36, 38, 39, 254-255, 258-262, 274, 285.


  Labaume, ii. 245, 253, 260.

  Labédoyère, ii. 505, 541.

  Laborde, ii. 206.

  Labouchere, ii. 213.

  Labrador, ii. 165.

  Lafayette, i. 476; ii. 439, 513, 514.

  La Fère Champenoise, battle of, ii. 419-420, 422.

  La Fère regiment, the, i. 15-17.

  Laffray, defile of, ii. 443.

  Laforest, ii. 65, 66, 84, 87.

  Lagrange, i. 285; ii. 569.

  Laharpe, i. 395, 408, 512 (App.); ii. 231, 400.

  La Haye Sainte, ii. 490-491, 495, 496, 499, 500-505, 507, 508.

  Lainé, ii. 377.

  Lajolais, Gen., i. 455.

  Lake, Gen., i. 377.

  Lallemand, Count, ii. 519, 529.

  Lambert, Gen., ii. 493, 498.

  Lampedusa, i. 422, 425.

  Lancey, De, ii. 467, 493.

  Landrieux, i. 110, 111, 115, 143, 144.

  Langeron, Gen. ii. 339.

  Lanjuinais, i. 321, 467; ii. 452.

  Lannes, i. 92, 95, 102, 138, 183, 194, 209, 213, 215,
    249, 252, 256, 451, 469; ii. 18, 21, 24, 26,32, 40, 91,
    94-97, 100, 118-124, 192-193.

  Laplace, i. 285, 484; ii. 569.

  Larochejacquelein, ii. 449.

  La Rothière, battle of, ii. 383.

  Larrey, i. 212; ii. 485.

  Las Cases, Count, i. 212; ii. 519, 520-524, 527, 528,
    529, 533, 535-537, 541, 542, 548, 553, 559-561,
    564, 566, 568.


  Latouche-Tréville, i. 489-490.

  Latour-Maubourg, ii. 123, 337, 342, 345, 358.

  Lauderdale, Earl of, ii. 81-82.

  Lauriston, ii. 235, 258, 281, 291, 332, 340, 364.

  Lavalette, i. 148, 159, 161, 163, 168, 215; ii. 415,
    445, 450, 451, 486, 513, 516, 526.

  Lebanon, i. 201, 211.

  Lebrun, i. 234, 302, 458, 468.

  Leclerc, i. 135, 182, 225, 360-363.

  Lefebvre, i. 469; ii. 422.

  Lefebvre-Desnoëttes, ii. 353, 422, 427, 431.

  Legations, i. 78, 142, 145, 169, 275, 346; ii. 54.

  Leghorn, i. 103.

  Legion of Honour, i. 284-287, 327, 449; ii. 184.

  Législatif Corps, i. 467, 481.

  Legnago, i. 107, 114, 126, 131.

  Leipzig, battle of, ii. 356-363.

  Lejeune, ii. 37, 192, 257, 351.

  Leoben, i. 138, 140, 145.

  Lépeaux-Réveillière, La, i. 74, 158, 178, 220, 274.

  Lestocq, Gen., ii. 113.

  Letourneur, i. 74.

  Liberty of the press, i. 239; ii. 211, 451.

  Licences, commercial, ii. 220, 222-223.

  Lichtenstein, ii. 424.

  Ligny, battle of, ii. 468-473.

  Ligurian Republic, i. 148, 264, 345, 420, 504; ii. 6, 10.

  Lille, i. 164, 166-167.

  Lindet, i. 220.

  Linois, Admiral, i. 313, 376; ii. 81.

  Liptay, i. 92, 93.

  Lithuania, ii. 244-246, 248.

  Liverpool, Earl of, ii. 447, 525, 537, 538.

  Lobau, ii. 469, 480-482, 502, 503, 504.

  Lobau, Isle of, ii. 192-193, 195.

  Lodi, battle of, i. 93-95, 97.

  Loison, i. 70.

  Lombardy, i. 90, 91, 96, 142, 436; ii. 21, 55.

  Lonato, i. 110, 112, 113.

  London, Preliminaries of, i. 314, 331-336.

  Louis, Baron, ii. 424.

  Louis XIV., i. 24, 283.

  Louis XV., i. 283, 364.

  Louis XVI., i. 26, 29, 35-36, 42, 71, 283.

  Louis XVII, i. 54-55, 65.

  Louis XVIII., ii. 415, 424-425, 439-440, 457-458, 537, 541, 542.

  Louisa, Queen, ii. 85-86, 125, 132-134, 226.

  Louisiana, i. 264, 334, 364-372, 414, 421, 509-510; ii. 153.

  Lowe, Sir Hudson, i. 4; ii. 291, 359, 395, 409, 419-420, 456, 492,
            545, 561-566, 570, 572.

  Lucca, i. 77.

  Lucchesini, ii. 83-85, 87, 138.

  Lucerne, i. 180.

  Luddite riot, ii. 220.

  Lunéville, Treaty of, i. 263.

  Lützen, battle of, ii. 285, 287-289.

  Lützow, ii. 278, 318.

  Luxemburg, i. 141.

  Lycées, i. 295-297.

  Lyons, i. 16, 46, 48, 319.

  Lyons, Consulta of, i. 346-348.


  Macdonald, i. 260, 449, 469, 471; ii. 192, 195, 197,
    270, 288, 332, 335-336, 338-340, 357, 362, 381, 392,
    393-394, 408, 409, 418, 427, 428, 443, 454.

  Mack, ii. 14-16, 18-26, 365.

  Mackenzie, Mr., ii. 140.

  Madalena Isles, the, i. 38-39.

  Madras, i. 376.

  Mahrattas, the, i. 374, 377-378, 416; ii. 117.

  Maida, battle of, ii. 79-80.

  Maingaud, ii. 529.

  Maitland, Capt., ii. 486, 519, 520-524, 525, 526, 529-530.

  Maitland, Gen., ii. 506, 507.

  Malcolm, Sir Pulteney, ii. 550.

  Malet Conspiracy, the, ii. 265, 267.

  Mallet du Pan, i. 180.

  Malmaison, Napoleon at, ii. 515-518.

  Malmesbury, Lord, i. 166-167.

  Malo-Jaroslavitz, battle of, ii. 260.

  Malta, i. 168, 181, 217, 260-263, 307, 311-12, 314,
    333, 338-341, 351-353, 404, 406-408, 415-416, 419-425,
    430-431, 434; ii. 7-9, 17, 54, 62, 73, 225.

  Mamelukes, i. 188-191, 199, 412.

  Manin, i. 169.

  Mantua, i. 77, 79, 89, 90, 95, 100, 101, 102, 105-118,
    124, 130, 131, 136, 216, 259.


  Marbot, i. 254, 504; ii. 41, 192, 335, 364, 495, 496.

  Marchand (the valet), ii. 485, 572.

  Marchand, Gen., ii. 443, 528.

  Marengo, battle of, i. 254-260.

  Maret, i. 166-167, 278-279; ii. 235, 259, 265, 271,
    295, 370, 371, 391-392, 401, 411, 412, 446, 513.

  Marie Louise, ii. 206-207, 227, 370, 382, 388, 418,
    426, 431, 432-433, 436, 562-563.

  Marmont, i. 60, 61, 64, 76, 99, 114, 124, 126, 138,
    153, 215, 247, 257, 483, 484; ii. 18, 115, 192, 256,
    259, 292, 300, 332-333, 348-349, 351, 356, 357,
    358-359, 362, 364, 381, 383, 393-394, 404, 406,
    407-408, 418, 420-421, 423, 427, 429-430, 454.

  Marseilles, i. 35, 45, 49, 57, 182.

  Martinique, i. 311-312, 314, 333, 496-497.

  Masséna, i. 57, 82, 84, 85, 95, 102, 107, 110, 112,
    114, 117, 118, 122, 124, 134, 135, 138, 217, 243-244,
    250, 451, 469, 471; ii. 17, 26, 31, 61, 80, 192-193,
    195, 209, 304, 432, 454.

  Mauritius, ii. 436.

  Mediatization, ii. 77.

  Méhée de la Touche, i. 449-450, 453-455, 457.

  Melas, i. 244-245, 249-259.

  Melito, Miot de, i. 103, 130, 150, 187, 468; ii. 62, 451.

  Melzi, i. 150, 456; ii. 378.

  Memel, decrees of, ii. 178.

  Memmingen, ii. 14, 18, 23-24.

  Memphis, i. 195.

  Mercer, Capt., ii. 453, 457, 483, 501, 502.

  Merlin, i. 302.

  Merry, Mr., i. 337, 393, 406, 411-412.

  Menou, Gen., i. 70, 182, 189, 313.

  Merveldt, Gen., ii. 360-361, 375.

  Metternich, ii. 177, 200, 202-203, 206, 241, 253,
    271-272, 273, 281-283, 289-290, 314-316, 318-320, 323,
    325-327, 368, 370-371, 374-376, 386-389, 391, 400, 410,
    413, 417-418, 422, 426, 438-439, 446, 448, 537.

  Milan, i. 77, 79, 93, 96, 105, 107, 108, 143, 146, 151, 172.

  Milan decrees, ii. 157.

  Milhaud, Count, ii. 471, 481-482, 496, 500.

  Miller, Capt., i. 206.

  Millesimo, i. 85.

  Miloradovitch, ii. 287.

  Mina, ii. 301, 303.

  Mincio, i. 100, 101, 105, 107, 108, 109, 110.

  Minto, Earl, i. 423.

  Miquelon, i. 342.

  Mirabeau, i. 29.

  Missiessy, i. 490, 492; ii. 7.

  Möckern, battle of, ii. 359.

  Modena, i. 77, 118, 119, 145, 170, 264, 346.

  Modena, Duke of, i. 100.

  Mollien, i. 267; ii. 60, 88, 217, 269, 421, 445, 449, 484.

  Moltke, Von, i. 106.

  Moncey, i. 250, 469; ii. 421-422, 454.

  Mondovi, i. 87.

  Monge, i. 150, 182, 195, 215, 285, 484; ii. 569.

  Monroe, i. 369.

  Montagu, Admiral, i. 485.

  Montchenu, ii. 552, 553, 571.

  Montebello, Castle of, i. 148, 158, 252.

  Montechiaro, i. 107, 110.

  Montenotte, i. 79, 83, 84, 85.

  Montereau, battle of, ii. 397.

  Montesquieu, i. 25, 27, 42, 185.

  Montholon, ii. 513, 519-529, 535-537, 542, 544, 545,
    552, 553, 557, 560, 561, 564, 567, 570, 572.

  Montholon, Mme., ii. 530, 536, 542, 548.

  Montmirail, battle of, ii. 394.

  Morea, the, i. 410, 422, 488-489.

  Moreau, i. 63, 102, 105, 141, 219, 244-245, 449-452, 470-472;
            ii. 298, 335, 341, 345.

  Morfontaine, i. 264.

  Morillo, Gen., ii. 309.

  Mortier, i. 469; ii. 115, 117, 120, 345, 349, 394, 404, 406, 408,
            420-421, 422-423, 454.

  Moscow, burning of, ii. 256-257.

  Moulin, i. 220, 223-224.

  Mouton, i. 482; ii. 192. _See_ Lobau.

  Müffling, Gen. von, ii. 92, 241, 243, 294, 339, 456, 479, 489,
    496, 499.

  Muiron, i. 53, 124, 125; ii. 558.

  Murad, i. 188-191.

  Murat, i. 71, 76, 138, 182, 194, 213, 215, 225, 252,
    276, 422, 458, 460, 468-469; ii. 19, 21, 22, 24, 26,
    32, 40, 64, 83, 85, 97, 100, 112, 119, 122, 135,
    162-164, 166-168, 176, 187, 216, 252-256, 259, 260,
    265, 328, 331, 345-346, 348, 353, 355, 358, 362,
    369-370, 380, 438, 448, 449, 542, 545.

  Muscat, i. 378-379.


  Nablûs, i. 204.

  Nansouty, ii. 345.

  Naples, i. 128, 196, 216, 264, 308, 314, 433; ii. 30,
    59, 60, 61, 63, 115, 134.

  Napoleon, first abdication of, ii. 430.

  Narbonne, ii. 323-324.

  National Assembly, i. 27, 28, 29, 36.

  National Guard, i. 28-29, 34-35, 39, 62, 71.

  Nazareth, i. 207.

  Necker, i. 159.

  Neipperg, Count de, ii. 382, 433, 436.

  Nelson, i. 84, 187, 192-194, 196, 202, 206, 263, 310,
    313, 333, 434, 440, 453, 484, 488; ii. 573.

  Nepean, i. 451.

  Nesselrode, Count, ii. 371, 372, 424.

  Neufchâtel, ii. 44.

  Newfoundland, i. 175, 314, 342; ii. 538.

  Ney, i. 396, 438, 469-470, 487; ii. 18, 21, 24, 91, 96,
    97, 113, 120-122, 194, 211, 245, 252-256, 262-263, 287,
    289, 291-292, 322, 335, 350, 353, 354, 356, 359, 362,
    381, 404, 407, 408, 427, 428, 431, 444, 461-463, 466,
    467, 469, 472, 473-479, 482-483, 490, 498,
    500-505, 541, 542.

  Nisas, ii. 318.

  Nice, i. 48, 57, 60, 76, 78, 80, 87, 232, 243, 244-245, 312.

  Nile, battle of the, i. 192-194.

  Nivelle, battle of the, ii. 369.

  Nivôse, affair of, i. 303-306.

  Non-intercourse Act, ii. 156.

  Non-jurors, i. 28, 272.

  Norway, ii. 2, 238, 296-297, 380.

  Noverraz, ii. 567.

  Novi, i. 216, 219.

  Novossiltzoff, ii. 5, 7, 11.


  O'Connor, i. 510-512 (App.).  Odeleben, Col. von, ii. 288, 353,
    360.

  Oglio, i. 142.  O'Hara, i. 52, 54.

  Oldenburg, ii. 134-135.

  Oldenburg, annexation of, ii. 214, 234-236.

  Oldenburg, Duchy of, ii. 183, 206.

  Old Guard, ii. 471, 504-507.

  Olivenza, i. 311, 314.

  O'Meara, ii. 529-530, 534, 541, 544, 546, 551, 555,
    562, 565, 571, 572.

  Ompteda, ii. 55.

  Oporto, ii. 194.

  Orange, Prince of, ii. 467, 473.

  Ordener, Gen., i. 458.

  Orders in Council, ii. 105-107, 155-157, 222.

  "Organic" articles, i. 281.

  Orleans, New, i. 364, 368-369, 510 (App.).

  Orthez, battle of, ii. 414.

  Ossian, i. 185.

  Ostermann, ii. 347.

  Otto, i. 256, 310, 313, 314, 333, 341.

  Oubril, ii. 71-75, 81.

  Oudinot, i. 243; ii. 32, 38-39, 120, 124, 195, 231,
    250, 253, 263-264, 266, 292, 332-333, 337-338, 350,
    408, 409, 427, 431, 454.

  Ouvrard, ii. 60, 213.


  Pacthod, Gen., ii. 420.

  Pahlen, ii. 358.

  Pajol, ii. 358, 397, 480, 481.

  Palais Royal, the, i. 16.

  Palm, ii. 89, 184.

  Paoli, i. 5, 18, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35, 38-42, 59.

  Papal States, i. 78; ii. 154, 228.

  Paris, i. 13-16, 35-36, 44-47, 62, 64, 66, 172, 260.

  Paris, Treaties of (1814), ii. 436.

  Paris, Treaty of (1815), ii. 538.

  Parlements, i. 27, 268, 269.

  Parma, i. 78, 366-369, 389.

  Parma, Duke of, i. 100, 129, 264.

  Parthenopæan Republic, i. 216.

  Pasquier, i. 267; ii. 149, 279, 484, 514.

  Passeriano, i. 156, 169-170.

  Paterson, Miss, i. 414-415; ii. 154.

  Paul, Czar, i. 183, 217, 260-263, 310.

  Pavia, i. 92, 96, 98.

  Pelet, ii. 364.

  Peltier, i. 402.

  Peninsular War, ii. 171-173, 186-188, 194, 197-199,
    209-211, 300-313, 368-369.

  Perim, i. 262.

  Permoa, Madame, i. 64, 73.

  Perponcher, Gen., ii. 462.

  Perron, i. 364, 377.

  Persia, i. 262; ii. 9, 110.

  Persia, Shah of, ii. 117-118.

  Perthes, ii. 299.

  Peschiera, i. 101, 112, 113.

  Pétiet, ii. 485.

  Petit, Gen., ii. 433.

  Phélippeaux, i. 207-208.

  Phillip, Port, i. 380, 382.

  Phull, Gen. von, ii. 242-243, 248-250.

  Piacenza, i. 92, 93.

  Pichegru, i. 63, 158, 162, 451, 456-457, 463-464, 471.

  Picton, Gen., ii. 311, 473, 479, 490, 493, 497.

  Piedmont, i. 47, 64, 241, 245.

  Piombino, i. 264.

  Pirch I., ii. 460, 464, 467, 468, 489, 504, 505.

  Pirch II., ii. 459.

  Pitt, i. 54-56, 166-167, 243, 310, 414, 441, 452; ii.
    5, 7, 13, 14, 53, 55-58, 573.

  Pope Pius VI., i. 78, 102, 103, 120, 121, 137, 179,
    261.

  Pope Pius VII., i. 274-277, 280-281, 476-467, 480; ii.
    72, 88, 153-154, 191, 211, 227-228, 380.

  Pizzighetone, i. 93.

  Plague, the, i. 204, 209-212.

  Po, River, i. 79, 88, 92, 100.

  Poischwitz, Armistice of, ii. 296, 320.

  Poland, ii. 109-111, 131-132, 193, 201, 232-233, 236, 244-246, 272,
            273-274, 294, 330, 387-388, 437.

  Polignacs, i. 456, 458, 472.

  Pondicherry, i. 372.

  Poniatowski, ii. 252, 254, 284, 332, 362, 364.

  Pons (de l'Hérault), ii. 436.

  Ponsonby, ii. 490, 493, 497, 498.

  Portalis, i. 289.

  Portland, Duke of, ii. 116, 208.

  Porto Ferrajo, ii. 435, 441-442.

  Portugal, i. 216, 308, 311-312, 437-438; ii. 106, 145-153, 160, 170-171,
            209-210, 306.

  Potsdam, Treaty of, ii. 30, 44.

  Poussielgue, i. 178.

  Power-looms, ii. 220.

  Pozzo di Borgo, ii. 376, 424, 428, 439.

  _Praams_, i. 485-486.

  Pradt, Abbé de, ii. 246, 253, 258, 267, 424.

  Prague, Congress of, ii. 323-324, 326, 329, 435.

  Prefect, office of, i. 268, 269.

  Press, the, i. 319.

  Press, liberty of the, i. 239; ii. 211, 451.

  Pressburg, Treaty of, ii. 46-48.

  Priests, orthodox, i. 272, 273-277, 282.

  Provence, i. 32, 44, 244.

  Provence, Comte de, i. 54-55, 66, 143.

  Provera, i. 85, 131, 136.

  Prussia, i. 37, 64, 219, 263, 352, 422, 436; ii. 1,
    4-5, 9, 11, 20, 29-30, 34, 42-45, 48, 49, 51-55, 64-69,
    83-101, 110, 114-115, 126-127, 131-132, 134-137,
    177-178, 182, 193, 221, 226, 237-240, 241, 269-271,
    273-278, 280, 282, 316-317, 385-389, 402-403,
    423-424, 437, 448.


  Public works, i. 316-317.

  Puisaye Papers, i. 450, 452.

  Pyrenees, battle of the, ii. 368.

  Pyramids, battle of the, i. 190-191.



  Quatre Bras, battle of, ii. 473-475, 509.

  Quosdanovich, i. 107, 109, 110, 114, 115, 116.



  Rapp, ii. 41, 454.

  Rastadt, Congress of, i. 170, 176.

  Ratisbon, battle of, ii. 191.

  Raynal, M., i. 34.

  Réal, i. 222, 302, 449, 458, 460, 462-463.

  Rebecque, Constant de, ii. 462.

  Reding, i. 392-394.

  Red Sea, i. 181, 200.

  Reggio, i. 118.

  Regnier, i. 449, 454.

  Reiche, Gen., ii. 460, 468, 476, 505.

  Reichenbach, Treaty of, ii. 317.

  Reille, Gen., ii. 309-311, 454, 462, 473, 490, 494, 495, 505.

  Religion, Napoleon's, i. 19-21.

  Rémusat, Madame de, i. 329-330, 459.

  Revolution, French, i. 465-466.

  Rewbell, i. 74, 158, 181, 219, 451.

  Reynier, i. 182, 191; ii. 79-80, 332-333, 337-338, 354, 356, 360,
    362, 364.

  Richter, Jean Paul, ii. 177.

  Rivière, Marquis de, i. 456, 458.

  Rivoli, battle of, i. 131-136.

  Robespierre, i. 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 70, 82, 174.

  Robespierre, the younger, i. 57, 58, 59, 60.

  Roederer, i. 222, 233-234, 304-305, 308, 399, 473; ii. 375.

  Rohan, Charlotte de, i. 457.

  Roland, Mme., i. 46.

  Roll, Baron de, i. 450.

  Roman Catholic Church, i. 271.

  Romantzoff, ii. 144, 180, 269, 274.

  Rome, i. 100, 129, 179, 275-277.

  Rome, King of, ii. 227, 382, 421.

  Romilly, i. 294, 318.

  Rose, George, ii. 56.

  Rosetta, i. 189.

  Rossbach, battle of, ii. 282.

  Rousseau, i. 17-21, 25, 26-27, 42-43.

  Rüchel, Gen., ii. 91-92, 94, 97.

  Rue St. Honoré, i. 72.

  Rumbold, Sir George, ii. 4.

  Russell, Lord John, ii. 440.

  Russia, i. 183, 216, 243, 260-263, 315, 333, 339-340,
    352, 387, 422, 425, 430-432, 458, 500, 511 (App.); ii.
    1, 4-13, 29-30, 47-48, 54, 86, 87, 90, 110, 114-115,
    130-132, 134-137, 185, 221, 223, 233, 269, 270-272,
    273, 275-276, 282, 317, 385-389, 402-403, 448.




  Saalfeld, battle of, ii. 93.

  Sacken, Gen., ii. 339, 364, 393-394.

  St. Aignan, Baron, ii. 370, 374.

  St. Cloud, i. 223-227, 225.

  St. Cyr, i. 469; ii. 17, 61-62, 253, 332-334, 337,
    340-349, 353, 360, 408, 454.


  St. Domingo, i. 312, 358-364, 368, 440, 490, 509 (App.); ii. 81.

  St. Gotthard, i. 245-250.


  St. Helena, ii. 439, 539-574.

  St, Ildefonso, Convention of, i. 366.

  St. John, Knights of. _See_ Malta.

  St. Just, i. 59, 174.

  St. Lucia, i. 439; ii. 436.

  St. Marsan, ii. 241, 270, 276.

  St. Pierre, i. 342.

  Salamanca, battle of, ii. 256, 300.

  Salicetti, i. 39-40, 47, 49, 57, 60, 104, 121, 147, 148; ii. 10.

  Salo, i. 110.

  Salvatori, i. 144.

  Salzburg, i. 129, 170; ii. 46, 54, 201.

  Saragossa, ii. 170, 177.

  Sardinia, i. 38-39, 54-57, 78, 83, 85, 86, 87, 89, 90,
    167-168, 216, 241, 245, 261, 312, 388, 430; ii. 6,
    8, 30, 115.


  Sarzana, i. 2, 3.

  Savary, i. 200, 258, 456, 458, 460-463; ii. 35, 41, 96, 144, 165,
    170-171, 298, 313, 334, 380, 415, 426, 446, 516, 519, 528, 529.

  Savona, i. 79, 80, 82, 83, 84, 243, 259.

  Savoy, i. 37, 78, 89, 244-245.

  Savoy, House of, i. 87, 90, 338, 344, 388.

  Saxony, i. 64; ii. 84, 88, 91, 93, 108, 134-135, 194, 207, 275,
    284-285, 289, 295, 355, 366, 385, 387-388, 411, 437.

  Scharnhorst, ii. 92, 178, 237, 242, 250, 280, 286.

  Schérer, i. 61, 75.

  Schill, ii. 193.

  Schiller, ii. 184.

  Schleiermacher, ii. 286.

  Schönbrunn, Treaty of, ii. 43-45, 201.

  Schwarzenberg, Prince, ii. 24, 281-282, 321, 335-336,
    341-346, 351, 354, 356, 366, 368, 373, 381, 383, 384,
    386-389, 396, 402, 404-405, 408-409, 413-414, 417, 418,
    423-424, 429, 456.

  Scindiah, i. 374, 377-378.

  Sebastiani, Gen., i. 411-413; ii. 339.

  Sebottendorf, i. 94.

  Secularizations, i. 387-388; ii. 52.

  Ségur, Count, ii. 37, 245, 252, 485.

  Ségur, Mme. de, i. 479.

  Sénarmont, ii. 123.

  Senate, i. 230-232, 287, 305-306, 320, 321-325, 466-468, 475; ii.
    377, 425, 444.

  _Senatus Consultum_, i. 306, 322, 324-325, 468.

  Senegal, i. 358.

  Sérurier, i. 87, 108, 114, 469.

  Servan, i. 36.

  Sicily, i. 77; ii. 72-74, 79-83, 85, 88, 135, 176, 213.

  Sièyes, i. 219-226, 228-233, 451, 467; ii. 526.

  Silesia, ii. 282, 284, 291, 294.

  Silesia, army of, ii. 332, 338-340, 381, 395.

  Silk industry, ii. 224.

  Simmons, Major, ii. 307, 494.

  Simplon, i. 245, 246, 316.

  Sinai, Mount, i. 200.

  Slavery, in French colonies, i. 360-363.

  Smith, Sir Sidney, i. 202, 204-215; ii. 80.

  Smolensk, ii. 251-252.

  Smorgoni, ii. 265.

  Socotra, i. 262.

  Soissons, surrender of, ii. 405-406.

  Sommepuis, council at, ii. 419.

  Somosierra, battle of, ii. 186.

  Souham, Gen., ii. 287, 339.

  Soult, i. 243, 469-470; ii. 18, 21, 38-41, 91, 96, 97,
    100, 122, 126, 180, 194, 198, 209, 256, 300-301,
    304-306, 312-313, 325, 368, 379, 384, 408, 414, 432,
    455, 469, 472, 479, 490, 501, 509.


  "Souper de Beaucaire, Le," i. 45-46.

   Spain, i. 46-47, 54-56, 64, 129, 166, 178, 214, 264,
    265, 294, 308, 311-312, 314-315, 334, 352, 364-370,
    422, 437-438, 493-496; ii. 69, 74, 106, 146, 149-151,
    153, 176, 177, 181-182, 186-187, 209-211, 215, 300,
    361, 368, 379, 403.

  Spina, Monseigneur, i. 274-276.

  Stadion, Count, ii. 197, 202, 289, 315, 326, 410.


  Staël, Madame de, i. 73, 163-164, 180, 217, 298.

  Stapfer, i. 391-395, 400.

  Staps, ii. 200.

  Steffens, ii. 274-275, 276.

  Stein, ii. 130, 177, 190, 237, 273-274, 276-277, 373, 387.

  Stewart, Sir Charles, ii. 358, 366, 390, 410, 423, 437.

  Stockholm, Treaty of, ii. 297.

  Stokoe, Dr., ii. 565.

  Stradella, i. 252.

  Stralsund, battle at, ii. 193.

  Strangford, Viscount, ii. 146-148, 152.

  Stuart, Sir John, i. 412; ii. 79-80.

  Stürmer, ii. 565.

  Subervie, Gen., ii. 496, 502.

  Suchet, Marshal, i. 243-244, 250-257, 469;
    ii. 300-301, 305-306, 313, 379-380, 408, 414, 415, 455.

  Suez, i. 181, 194, 197, 199.

  Sugar, price of, ii. 218.

  Suvoroff, i. 216.

  Swabia, i. 244, 246; ii. 45-48.

  Sweden, i. 263; ii. 1-2, 5-6, 13, 114,
    136, 140-141, 143-144, 208, 223,
    237-239, 296-298, 322, 380.

  Swiss Guards, the, i. 36.

  Switzerland, i. 64, 179, 243, 244, 265, 294, 308, 334,
    336, 377, 389-400, 403, 405, 416, 420;
    ii. 1, 6, 8, 103, 215, 381, 403.

  Sydney, i. 379-382.

  Syria, i. 201-215; ii. 229.


  Tabor, Mount, i. 207.

  Talavera, battle of, ii. 198-199.

  Talleyrand, i. 150, 163-166, 168, 175, 177, 222, 234,
    278, 294, 304, 306, 337, 341-343, 357, 361, 365-371,
    395, 417, 423-426, 432, 458, 459, 463, 468, 500; ii.
    18, 35, 44, 46, 47-49, 63, 66-67, 70-72, 79, 82-84, 87,
    127, 141, 146, 149, 166, 180-182, 187, 205, 368, 415,
    424-426, 437, 439-440, 446-447.


  Tallien, i. 156, 451.

  Tallien, Madame, i. 73, 155, 443.

  Tauenzien, ii. 350.

  Terror, the, i. 58, 59, 62, 68, 267.

  Tettenborn, ii. 280.

  Théo-philanthropie, i. 179, 272, 273-277.

  Thibaudeau, i. 290, 305, 467.

  Thiébault, i. 71, 111; ii. 37, 39, 40, 416, 484.

  Thielmann, Gen., ii. 460, 467, 468, 471, 477, 482, 489.

  Thornton, Mr., ii. 318, 321-322, 352.

  Thugut, i. 142.

  Ticino, i, 92.

  Tilsit, ii. 123, 126-128.

  Tilsit, Treaty of, ii. 134-137, 145, 155.

  Tippoo Sahib, i. 200, 373.

  Tobago, i. 311-312, 314, 333, 341, 439; ii. 390, 436.

  Tolentino, i. 137.

  Toll, ii. 335, 340, 341, 419.

  Tomkinson, Col., ii. 307, 493.

  Tormassov, ii. 244.

  Torres Vedras, ii. 209.

  Tortona, i. 88, 252.

  Toulon, i. 39, 40, 44, 46-56, 70, 80, 180-182.

  Toussaint l'Ouverture, i. 359-362, 367.

  Trachenberg, compact of, ii. 321-323, 332.

  Trafalgar, battle of, ii. 26-28.

  Trèves, i. 141.

  Trianon Decree, the, ii. 214, 216.

  Tribunate, i. 230, 238, 270, 286-287, 305, 319-324, 467.

  Trieste, i. 121; ii. 201.

  Trinidad, i. 166, 311-312, 314-315, 333, 343, 495; ii. 150.

  Tronchet, i. 289, 321.

  Tugendbund, ii. 184, 237.

  Tuileries, i. 71, 162.

  Turin, i. 79, 85, 87, 89, 250.

  Turkey, i. 65, 183, 188, 201, 216,
    261, 343, 389, 408-410, 420, 428, 431-432;
    ii. 44, 72-73, 108, 110,
    114, 130-131, 135-137, 175-176,
    181, 182, 207, 208, 236, 238, 272.

  Tuscany, i. 64, 103, 129, 263, 264, 312, 366-369.

  Tyrol, i. 101; ii. 45-48, 193.

  Tyrolese, ii. 189, 201.


  Ulm, ii. 14-16, 18-20.

  United States, i. 264, 365-372, 509-510 (App.);
    ii. 156, 212-213, 221, 269.

  Uxbridge, Lord, ii. 483.


  Valais, i. 392; ii. 214.

  Valeggio, i. 101.

  Valençay, Treaty of, ii. 379.

  Valence, i. 14-16, 18.

  Valenza, i. 88, 89, 92.

  Valetta, i. 110.

  Valteline, i. 152.

  Valutino, battle of, ii. 253.

  Vandamme, ii. 39-40, 41, 296, 332-333,
    342, 344, 346-349, 408, 454, 460, 463, 469, 470.

  Vandeleur, ii. 498, 504, 508.

  Van Diemen's Land, i. 379-382.

  Vaubois, i. 122, 127.

  Vauchamps, battle of, ii. 394.

  Vaud, i. 180, 397.

  Vendée, La, i. 47, 61, 64, 65; ii. 268, 449.

  Vendémiaire, the affair of, i. 68-73.

  Vendetta, i. 3, 4.

  Venetia, ii. 45-48, 438.

  Venice, i. 101, 142, 168-172.

  Verdier, i. 111, 115; ii. 120.

  Verling, Dr., ii. 565.

  Verona, i. 122, 124, 144, 145.

  Viasma, battle of, ii. 260.

  Vicenza, i. 126.

  Victor, Gen., i. 52, 138, 369;
    ii. 120-122, 198, 254, 264, 266, 332, 345,
    362, 381, 396, 397, 404, 407, 408, 431, 454.

  Victor Amadeus III., i. 78.

  Vienna, Congress of, ii. 437-439, 453.

  Villeneuve, i. 490-493, 495-503, 506; ii. 12, 26-27.

  Vimiero, battle of, ii. 172.

  Vincent, Baron, ii. 181.

  Visconti, i. 151.

  Vitrolles, Count de; ii. 413, 419.

  Vittoria, battle of, ii. 308-313.

  Vivian, Sir Hussey, ii. 457, 482, 491, 508.

  Volney, i. 75, 182, 206, 484.

  Voltaire, i. 21, 25-27; ii. 179, 567.

  Voltri, i. 82, 83.

  Voss, Countess von, ii. 132-133.


  Wagram, battle of, ii. 195-197.

  Walcheren, expedition of, ii. 200.

  Walewska, Countess of, ii. 111, 436.

  Walmoden, Gen., ii. 352.

  Walpole, Lord, ii. 272, 283.

  Warden, Surgeon, ii. 534.

  Warren, Admiral, i. 406, 410, 423; ii. 81.

  Warsaw, Duchy of, ii. 134, 411.

  Waterloo, the position at, ii. 490-492.

  Wavre, movement on, ii. 488.

  Wellesley, Marquis, i. 373, 377-379, 440.

  Wellesley, Sir Arthur. _See_ Wellington.

  Wellington, i. 332; ii. 143, 171-172,
    194-197, 209, 229, 256, 299, 301-304
    306, 364, 368, 378-379, 414-415,
    418, 429, 437, 439, 446, 456,
    460, 464, 473-475, 481, 489, 499,
    501, 504, 506-511, 516, 537-538, 548, 573.

  Wertingen, ii. 21.

  Wessenberg, Count, ii. 283, 417.

  West Indies, i. 490-492, 496-499; ii. 229, 390.

  West Indies, French, ii. 56.

  Westphalia, ii. 134, 194.

  Weyrother, ii. 36.

  Whigs, the, i. 22, 167, 427, 452, 494;
    ii. 209, 447, 457, 527, 559.

  Whitbread, Mr., M.P., ii. 447.

  Whitworth, Lord, i. 403-404, 415-416, 418-425.

  Wieland, ii. 183-184.

  Wilks, Governor, 539, 545, 546, 547.

  Wilson, Sir R., ii. 258, 262.

  Windham, i. 452.

  Winzingerode, ii. 401, 405-406.

  Wittgenstein, ii. 250, 254, 287-288, 294, 335, 341, 345.

  Wrede, ii. 419.

  Wright, Capt, i. 451-452, 456.

  Würmser, i. 105-107, 110-117, 127, 136.


  Würtemberg, ii. 46, 59-60.

  Würzburg, ii. 46.



  Yarmouth, Lord, ii. 72, 79, 81-83, 85.

  Yorck, Gen., ii. 270, 339, 358-359, 392, 393-394, 407.

  York, Duke of, i. 217, 261.

  Yorke, i. 450.

  Young Guard, ii. 503.



  Zach, i. 257.

  Ziethen, Gen., ii. 460, 461, 463, 464, 505, 508.

  Znaim, Armistice of, ii. 197.

  Zürich, battle of, i. 180, 217.




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End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life of Napoleon I (Volume 2 of 2)
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