London: Published for Henry Colburn, March, 1836.
]
“Peace, concluded at Moscow, would have fulfilled and wound up my
hostile expeditions. It would have been, with respect to the grand
cause, the term of casualties and the commencement of security. A new
horizon, new undertakings, would have unfolded themselves, adapted, in
every respect, to the well-being and prosperity of all. The foundation
of the European system would have been laid, and my only remaining task
would have been its organization.
“Satisfied on these grand points, and every where at peace, I should
have also had my Congress and my Holy Alliance. These are plans which
were filched from me. In that assembly of all the sovereigns, we should
have discussed our interest in a family way, and settled our accounts
with the people, as a clerk does with his master.
“The cause of the age was victorious, the revolution accomplished; the
only point in question was to reconcile it with what it had not
destroyed. But that task belonged to me; I had for a long time been
making preparations for it, at the expense, perhaps, of my popularity.
No matter. I became the ark of the old and the new covenant, the natural
mediator between the old and the new order of things. I maintained the
principles and possessed the confidence of the one; I had identified
myself with the other. I belonged to them both; I should have acted
conscientiously in favour of each. My glory would have consisted in my
equity.”
“And, after having enumerated what he would have proposed between
sovereign and sovereign, and between sovereigns and their people, he
continued: “Powerful as we were, all that we might have conceded would
have appeared grand. It would have gained us the gratitude of the
people. At present, what they may extort will never seem enough for
them, and they will be uniformly distrustful and discontented.”
He next took a review of what he would have proposed for the prosperity,
the interest, the enjoyment, and the well-being, of the European
confederacy. He wished to establish the same principles, the same
system, every where—a European code; a European court of appeal, with
full powers to redress all wrong decisions, as our’s redresses at home
those of our tribunals; money of the same value, but in different coins;
the same weights, the same measures, the same laws.
“Thus Europe,” he said, “would soon have formed, in reality, but one and
the same people, and every one, who travelled, would have every where
found himself in one common country.”
He would have required that all the rivers should be navigable in
common; that the seas should be thrown open; that the great standing
armies should, in future, be reduced to the mere guards of the
sovereign.
In short, a multitude of ideas fell from him, the greater part of which
were new; some of the simplest nature, others altogether sublime,
relative to the different political, civil, and legislative branches; to
religion, to the arts, and commerce: they embraced every subject.
He concluded: “On my return to France, into the bosom of my country, at
once great, powerful, magnificent, at peace, and glorious, I would have
proclaimed the immutability of boundaries; all future wars, as purely
_defensive_; all new aggrandizement, as _anti-national_. I would have
associated my son with me in the empire; my dictatorship would have
terminated, and his constitutional reign commenced.
“Paris would have been the capital of the world, and the French the envy
of nations!... My leisure and my old age would have been devoted, in
company with the Empress, and, during the royal apprenticeship of my
son, to visiting slowly and with our own horses, like a plain country
couple, every corner of the empire; to receiving complaints, redressing
wrongs, founding monuments, and doing good every where and by every
means!... These also, my dear Las Cases, were among my reveries!!!”
The Emperor conversed a great deal about the interior of Russia, of the
prosperity of which, he said, we had no idea. He dwelt, at great length,
upon Moscow, which had, under every point of view, much surprised him,
and might bear a comparison with any of the capitals of Europe, the
greater number of which it surpassed. Here unfortunately I can find but
bare outlines in my notes, which it is impossible for me to fill up now.
He was particularly struck with the gilded spires of Moscow, and it was
that which induced him, on his return, to have the dome of the Invalids
regilt; he intended to embellish many other edifices at Paris in the
same manner.[10]
Footnote 10:
Since the first appearance of this work, it has been remarked to me
that this is an anachronism; as the gilding of the dome of the
Invalids was begun before the campaign in Russia. It was the minarets
of Cairo and not the steeples of Moscow which must have suggested the
idea to Napoleon; and this was no doubt what he meant to say: it is
easy to imagine that a mistake of this kind might be made by him in a
conversation without any special object: in fact every body is liable
to such mistakes.
As the city of Moscow seems to have been so different from the idea
which we have generally entertained of it in our Western world, I am
inclined to think that a description of it in this place, supplied by an
eye-witness, a distinguished person, attached to the expedition, will
not prove disagreeable. It is by Baron Larrey, surgeon-in-chief to the
grand army. I take it from a work of that celebrated character (Mémoires
de la Chirurgie Militaire), in no great circulation, on account,
perhaps, of its peculiarly scientific nature.
The relation begins at the moment when the French army was setting out
for Moscow, after the battle of Mozaisk or of the Moskowa.
“We were hardly a few miles off from Mozaisk, when we were all surprised
at finding ourselves, notwithstanding the vicinity of the spot to one of
the greatest capitals in the world, on a sandy, arid, and completely
desert plain. The mournful aspect of that solitude, which discouraged
the soldiers, seemed an omen of the entire abandonment of Moscow, and of
the misfortunes which awaited us in that city, from the opulence of
which we had promised ourselves such advantages.
“The army marched, with difficulty, over that tract. The horses were
harassed, and exhausted with hunger and thirst, for water was as rare as
forage. The men had also a great deal to suffer. They were, in fact,
overwhelmed with fatigue, and in want of all subsistence. The troops had
not, for a long time, received any rations, and the small quantity of
provisions found at Mozaisk was only sufficient for the young and old
guard. A considerable number of the former corps fell victims to their
abuse of the spirits of the country. They were observed to quit their
comrades a few paces, to totter, whirl round, and afterwards fall on
their knees or sit down involuntarily; they remained immoveable in that
attitude, and expired shortly afterwards, without uttering a single
complaint. These young men were pre-disposed to the pernicious effects
of that liquor by languor, privations and excessive fatigue.
“We arrived, however, on the evening of the 14th of September, in one of
the suburbs of Moscow; we there learnt that the Russian army had, in its
passage through the city, carried off all the citizens and public
functionaries, some of the lower classes and servants alone were left;
so that, in going through the principal streets of that great city,
which we entered the following morning, we scarcely met any one; all the
houses were completely abandoned. But what very much surprised us was to
see the fire break out in several remote quarters, where none of our
troops had yet been, and particularly in the bazar of the Kremlin, an
immense building, with porticoes which have some resemblance to those of
the Palais Royal at Paris.
“After what we had witnessed on our passage through Little Russia, we
were astonished at the vastness of Moscow, at the great number of
churches and palaces which it contained, at the beautiful architecture
of those edifices, at the commodious disposition of the principal
houses, and all the objects of luxury which were found in the greater
part of them. The streets in general were spacious, regular, and well
laid out. Nothing had the appearance of discordance throughout that
city. Every thing announced its wealth, and the immense trade it carried
on in the productions of the four quarters of the world.
“The variety displayed in the construction of the palaces, houses, and
churches, was an infinite addition to the beauty of the city. There were
places which, by the peculiar kind of architecture of the different
edifices, indicated the nations that generally inhabited them; thus, the
residence of the Franks, Chinese, Indians, and Germans, was easily
distinguished. The Kremlin might be considered as the citadel of Moscow;
it is in the centre of the town, situated on an eminence sufficiently
elevated, surrounded by a wall with bastions, and flanked, at regular
distances, by towers, mounted with cannon. The bazaar, which has been
already noticed, usually filled with the merchandize of India, and
valuable furs, had become the prey of the flames, and the only articles
preserved were those which had been deposited in the vaults, where the
soldiers penetrated, after the fire that consumed the whole of the
exterior of that beautiful edifice. The palace of the Emperors, that of
the senate, the archives, the arsenal, and two very ancient churches,
occupy the rest of the Kremlin. These different buildings, of a rich
style of architecture, form a magnificent appearance about the parade.
One might imagine one’s self transported to the public place of ancient
Athens, where the Areopagus and the temple of Minerva on one side, and
the academy and the arsenal on the other, were the objects of
admiration. A cylindrical tower rises between the two churches, in the
form of a column, known by the name of Yvan’s tower; it is rather an
Egyptian minaret, within which several bells, of different sizes, are
hung. At the foot of this tower, is seen a bell of a prodigious
magnitude, which has been noticed by all the historians. The whole of
the city and its environs are seen from the top of the towers; it looks
like a star, with four forked rays. The city has a most picturesque
appearance, from the variegated colours of the roofs of the houses, and
from the gold and silver which cover the domes and the tops of the
steeples, of which there is a considerable number. Nothing can equal the
richness of one of the churches of the Kremlin (it was the burial-place
of the Emperors); its walls are covered with plates of silver gilt, five
or six lines thick, on which the history of the Old and New Testament is
represented in relievo; the lustres and candelabra, of massy silver,
were particularly remarkable for their extraordinary size.
“The hospitals, to which my attention was peculiarly directed, are
worthy of the most civilized nation in the world; I divide them into
military and civil. The great military hospital is divided into three
parts, forming altogether a parallelogram. The principal part was
constructed on the side of a great road, opposite to an immense barrack,
which may be compared to the military school at Paris. Two lateral
buildings, intersecting the first at right angles, inclose the court,
which communicates with a fine and extensive garden appropriated to the
use of the sick. A portico, with columns of the composite order, forms
the front of this building, which is two stories high. At the entrance
is a spacious lobby, with corresponding doors to the wards on the
ground-floor, and a large and magnificent staircase leading to the upper
stories. The wards occupy the entire length of the building, and the
windows on each side reach from the ceiling to the floor; they are made
with double sashes, as is customary throughout Russia, and are
completely closed in winter; stoves are placed in the inside at suitable
distances. The wards contain four rows of beds of the same kind,
separated by the requisite space for wholesomeness: each row consists of
fifty beds, and the total number may be estimated at more than three
thousand; the hospital contains fourteen principal wards of very nearly
the same extent. The offices, dispensary, kitchen, and other
accessories, are very commodiously situated, in separate places, at a
convenient distance from the wards.
“The civil hospitals are equally entitled to notice. The four principal
are those of Cheremetow, Galitzin, Alexander, and the foundlings.
“The first, remarkable for its form, its structure, and its internal
arrangements, was used to receive the sick and wounded belonging to the
guard.
“This hospital, which is three stories high, is built in the form of a
crescent; the requisite offices are situated in the rear. A beautiful
portico, projecting from the centre of the half-moon, forms the entrance
of a chapel which occupies the middle of the edifice; this chapel,
surmounted by a dome, is the central point of all the wards, and
contains the mausoleum of the Prince who founded the hospital: it is
adorned with columns in stucco, statues, and beautiful pictures. The
dispensary is one of the finest and best supplied that I know.
“The Foundling Hospital, situated on the banks of the Moscowa, and
protected by the cannon of the Kremlin, is indisputably the largest and
noblest establishment of the kind in Europe. It consists of two masses
of building; the first, where the entrance is placed, is appropriated to
the residence of the Governor, who is selected from the old generals of
the army, of the board of management, of the medical officers, and of
all those employed in the service of the hospital. The second forms a
perfect square. In the centre of the court, which is very spacious, is a
reservoir, that supplies the whole of the establishment with water from
the river. Each of the sides consists of four stories, round which runs
a regular corridor, not very broad, yet sufficiently spacious for the
admission of air, and the accommodation of persons passing through it.
The wards occupy the remainder of the breadth, and the whole length of
each wing of the building. There are two rows of beds with curtains in
each ward, their size corresponds with that of the children: the boys
are kept separate from the girls, and the greatest cleanliness and
regularity are observed.
“We had scarcely taken possession of the city, and succeeded in
extinguishing the fire, kindled by the Russians in the most beautiful
quarters, when, in consequence of two principal causes, the flames again
broke out in the most violent manner, spread rapidly from one street to
another, and involved the whole place in one common ruin. The first of
these causes is justly reported to have been the desperate resolution of
a certain class of Russians, who were said to have been confined in the
prisons, the doors of which were thrown open on the departure of the
army; these wretches, whether incited by superior authority, or by their
own feelings, with the view, no doubt, of plunder, openly ran from
palace to palace, and from house to house, setting fire to every thing
that fell in their way. The French patroles, although numerous and on
the alert, were unable to prevent them. I saw several of those
miscreants taken in the act; lighted matches and combustibles were found
in their possession. The pain of death inflicted upon those caught in
the actual commission of the atrocity made no impression on the others,
and the fire raged three days and three nights without interruption; in
vain houses were pulled down by our soldiers, the flames quickly
overleaped the vacant space, and the buildings thus insulated, were set
on fire in the twinkling of an eye. The second cause must be attributed
to the violence of the equinoctial winds, which are always very powerful
in those parts, and by means of which the conflagration increased and
extended its ravages with extraordinary activity.
“It would be difficult, under any circumstances, to imagine a picture
more horrible than that with which our eyes were afflicted. It was more
particularly during night, between the 18th and 19th of September, the
period when the fire was at the highest pitch, that its effects
presented a terrific spectacle: the weather was fine and dry, the wind
continuing to blow from East to North, or from North to East. During
that night, the dreadful image of which will never be effaced from my
memory, the whole of the city was on fire. Large columns of flames of
various colours shot up from every quarter, entirely covered the
horizon, and diffused a glaring light and a scorching heat to a
considerable distance. These masses of fire, driven by the violence of
the winds in all directions, were accompanied in their rise and rapid
movement, by a dreadful whizzing and by thundering explosions, the
result of the combustion of gunpowder, saltpetre, oil, resin, and
brandy, with which the greater part of the houses and shops had been
filled. The varnished iron plates, with which the buildings were
covered, were speedily loosened by the heat, and whirled far away; large
pieces of burning beams and rafters of fir were carried to a great
distance, and contributed to extend the conflagration to houses which
were considered in no danger, on account of their remoteness. Every one
was struck with terror and consternation. The guard, with the
head-quarters and the staff of the army, left the Kremlin and the city,
and formed a camp at Petrowski, a mansion which belonged to Peter the
Great, on the road to Petersburg. I remained with a very small number of
my comrades, in a house built of stone, which stood alone, and was
situated on the top of the quarter of the Franks, close to the Kremlin.
I was there enabled to observe all the phenomena of that tremendous
conflagration. We had sent our equipage to the camp, and kept ourselves
constantly on the look-out, to be prepared for, or to prevent, danger.
“The lower classes, who had remained at Moscow, driven from house to
house by the fire, uttered the most lamentable cries; extremely anxious
to preserve what was most valuable to them, they loaded themselves with
packages, which they could hardly sustain, and which they frequently
abandoned to escape from the flames. The women, impelled by a very
natural feeling of humanity, carried one or two children on their
shoulders, and dragged the others along by the hand; and, in order to
avoid the death which threatened them on every side, they ran, with
their petticoats tucked up, to take shelter in the corners of the
streets and squares; but they were soon compelled, by the intenseness of
the heat, to abandon those spots, and to fly with precipitation by any
way that was open to them, sometimes without being able to extricate
themselves from that kind of labyrinth, where many of them met with a
miserable end. I saw old men, whose long beards had been caught by the
flames, drawn on small carts by their own children, who endeavoured to
rescue them from that real Tartarus.
“As for our soldiers, tormented with hunger and thirst, they exposed
themselves to every danger, to obtain, in the burning cellars and shops,
eatables, wines, liquors, or any other article more or less useful. They
were seen running through the streets, pell-mell with the broken-hearted
inhabitants, carrying away every thing they could snatch from the
ravages of this dreadful conflagration. At length, in the course of
eight or ten days, this immense and superb city was reduced to ashes,
with the exception of the Kremlin palace, some large houses, and all the
churches: these edifices are built of stone.
“This calamity threw the army into great consternation, and was a
presage to us of more serious misfortunes. We all thought that we should
no longer find either subsistence, cloth, or any other necessary for
equipping the troops, and of which we were in the most urgent want.
Could a more dismal idea suggest itself to our imagination? The head
quarters were, however, after the fire, again established at the
Kremlin, and the guard sent to some houses of the Franks’ quarter, which
had been preserved. Every one resumed the exercise of his duties.
“Magazines of flour, meal, salt-fish, oil, wine and liquors, were
discovered by dint of perseverance. Some were served out to the troops,
but there was too great a wish to spare or hoard up these articles, and
that excess of precaution, which is sometimes a mere pretext, induced us
to burn or leave behind us, in the end, provisions of every kind, from
which we might have derived the greatest benefit, and which would have
even been sufficient for the wants of the army for more than six months,
had we remained at Moscow. The same conduct was pursued with regard to
the stuffs and furs, which ought to have been immediately worked up for
the purpose of supplying our troops with all the clothing capable of
preserving them, as much as possible, from the inclemency of the cold
that was at hand. The soldiers, who never think of the future, so far
from obviating, on their part and for their own advantage, that want of
precaution, were solely engaged in searching for wines, liquors, and
articles of gold and silver, and despised every other consideration.
“This unexpected abundance, which was owing to the indefatigable
researches of the troops, was attended with a bad effect on their
discipline and on the health of those who were intemperate. That motive
alone ought to have made us hasten our departure for Poland. Moscow
became a new Capua to our army. The enemy’s generals flattered ours with
the hopes of peace; the preliminaries were to be signed from day to day.
Meanwhile clouds of Cossacks covered our cantonments and carried off
every day a great number of our foragers. General Kutusoff was
collecting the wreck of his army and strengthening himself with the
recruits who joined him from all parts. Imperceptibly, and under various
pretences of pacification, his advanced posts drew near to ours.
Finally, the period of negotiation had arrived, and it was at the moment
in which the French ambassador was to obtain a first decision, that
Prince Joachim’s corps d’armée was surrounded. It was with difficulty
that our general, the ambassador, surmounted the obstacles which were
opposed to his return to Moscow. Several parties of our troops and some
pieces of cannon had been already carried off. The different corps of
this advanced guard, which were at first dispersed, were nevertheless
rallied, broke the Russian column that hemmed them in, took up a
favourable position, and charged successively the enemy’s numerous
cavalry, which they repulsed with vigour, retaking part of the artillery
and some of the soldiers made prisoners in the first onset. At length,
the arrival of General Lauriston, and of the wounded, was to us, at head
quarters, a confirmation that hostilities would be resumed. Orders were
immediately given for the sudden departure of the army; the drum beat to
arms, and all the corps prepared to execute that precipitate movement.
Some provisions were hastily collected and the march commenced on the
19th of October.”
ON THE CORONATION, &C.—DECREES OF BERLIN AND MILAN.—THE GRAND CAUSE OF
THE HATRED OF THE ENGLISH.
25th.—The weather has become fine in every respect. The Emperor
breakfasted in the tent and sent for us all. The conversation turned
upon the ceremonies of the coronation. He asked for particulars from one
of us, who had been present, but was unable to satisfy him. He made the
same inquiries of another, but the latter had not seen it. “Where were
you then at that time?” asked the Emperor.—“At Paris, Sire.”—“How then!
you did not see the coronation!”—“No Sire.” The Emperor, then casting a
side glance at him, and taking him by the ear, said; “Were you so absurd
as to carry your aristocracy to that point?”—“But, Sire, my hour was not
come.”—“But at least you saw the retinue?”—“Ah! Sire, had my curiosity
prevailed, I should have hastened to witness what was most worthy and
most interesting to be seen. I had, however, a ticket of admission, and
I preferred presenting it to the English lady whom I lately mentioned to
your Majesty, and who, by way of parenthesis, caught a cold there, that
nearly killed her. For my own part I remained quietly at home.”—“Ah,
that is too much for me to put up with,” said the Emperor, “the
villanous aristocrat! How! And you were really guilty of such an
absurdity?”—“Alas! I was,” replied the accused, “and yet here I am near
you, and at St. Helena.” The Emperor smiled, and let go the ear.
After breakfast, a captain of the English artillery, who had been six
years at the Isle of France, called upon me. He was to sail for Europe
the next day. He entreated me in a thousand ways to procure him the
happiness of seeing the Emperor. He would, he said, give all he had in
the world for such a favour; his gratitude would be boundless, &c.
We conversed together for a long time; the Emperor was taking his round
in the calash. On his return, I was fortunate enough to fulfil the
English officer’s wishes. The Emperor received him for upwards of a
quarter of an hour; his joy was extreme, as he was aware that the favour
became every day more rare. Every thing about the Emperor had struck
him, he declared, in a most extraordinary manner; his features, his
affability, the sound of his voice, his expressions, the questions he
had asked; he was, he exclaimed, a hero, a god!...
The weather was delightful. The Emperor continued to walk in the garden
in the midst of us. He discussed the failure of a negotiation undertaken
by one of us; a business which the Emperor had judged very easy, but
which turned out to be of the most delicate nature for the person
entrusted with it. The object of it was to prevail upon some English
officers to publish a certain paper in England.
The Emperor expressed his disapprobation of the failure in his usual
mode of reasoning, and with the intelligence and point that are familiar
to him: he was, however, very much disappointed at it: his observations
were rather strong; he pushed them to a degree of ill humour of which
the person he found fault with had never, perhaps, before, received any
proofs. At length, he concluded with saying: “After all, Sir, would you
not have accepted yourself what you proposed to others, had you been in
their place?”—“No, Sire.”—“Why not? Well then,” he added, in a tone of
reproof, “you should not be my Minister of Police.” “And your Majesty
would be in the right,” quickly replied the other, who felt himself
vexed in his turn; “I feel no inclination whatever for such an office.”
The Emperor, seeing him enter the saloon, a little before dinner, said:
“Ah! there is our little Officer of Police! Come, approach, my little
Officer of Police;” and he pinched his ear. Although hours had passed
since the warm conversation took place, the Emperor recollected it; he
knew that the person who had been the subject of it was full of
sensibility, and it was evident that he wished to efface the impression
it had made upon him. These are characteristic shades, and those which
arise from the most trifling causes are the most natural and the most
marked.
After dinner, the Emperor was led, by the turn which the conversation
took, to review the special subject of his maritime quarrel with
England. “Her pretensions to blockade on paper,” he observed, “produced
my famous Berlin decree. The British council, in a fit of resentment,
issued its orders; it established a right of toll on the seas. I
instantly replied by the celebrated Milan decrees, which denationalized
every flag that submitted to the English acts; and it was then that the
war became, in England truly personal. Every one connected with trade
was enraged against me. England was exasperated at a struggle and
energy, of which she had no example. She had uniformly found those who
had preceded me more complaisant.”
The Emperor explained, on a later occasion, the means, by which he had
forced the Americans to make war against the English. He had, he said,
discovered the way of connecting their interests with their rights; for
people, he remarked, fight much more readily for the former than for the
latter.
At present, the Emperor expected, he said, some approaching attempt, on
the part of the English, on the sovereignty of the seas, for the
establishment of the right of universal toll, &c. “It is,” said he, “one
of the principal resources left them for discharging their debts, for
extricating themselves from the abyss into which they are plunged; in a
word, for getting rid of their embarrassments. If they have among them
an enterprising genius, a man of a strong intellect, they will certainly
undertake something of that kind. Nobody is powerful enough to oppose
it, and they set up their claim with a sort of justice. They may plead,
in its justification, that it was for the safety of Europe they involved
themselves in difficulties; that they succeeded, and that they are
entitled to some compensation. And then, the only ships of war in Europe
are theirs. They reign, in fact, at present, over the seas. There is an
end to existence of public rights when the ballance is the broken, &c.,
&c.
“The English may now be omnipotent, if they will but confine themselves
to their navy. But they will endanger their superiority, complicate
their affairs, and insensibly lose their importance, if they persevere
in keeping soldiers on the continent.”
ACCOUNT OF THE CAMPAIGN OF WATERLOO DICTATED
BY NAPOLEON.
26th.—The Emperor went out early in the morning, before seven o’clock;
he did not wish to disturb any of us. He began to work alone in the
garden beneath the tent, where he sent for us all to breakfast with him.
He continued there until two o’clock.
At dinner, he conversed a great deal about our situation in the island.
He would not, he said, leave Longwood; he did not care for any visitors;
but he was desirous that we should take some diversion, and find out
some means of amusement. It would, he said, be a pleasure to him to see
us move about and get abroad more.
The narrative of the battle of Waterloo, which the Emperor had dictated
to General Gourgaud, was read by his desire. What a story! It is painful
to think of it. The destinies of France suspended by so slight a thread!
This production was published in Europe in 1820. The measures contrived
to transmit it clandestinely from St. Helena proved successful, in spite
of every kind of vigilance. The instant this narrative appeared, every
body was agreed as to its author. An exclamation burst from every
quarter that Napoleon alone was capable of describing in that manner,
and it is confidently stated that the Generalissimo, his antagonist,
expressed himself precisely in the same way. What noble chapters! It
would be impossible to attempt an analysis of them, or to pretend to
convey their excellence in terms adequate to their merits. We literally
transcribe, however, in this place, the last pages, containing, in the
shape of a summary, nine observations of Napoleon, on the faults with
which he has been reproached in that campaign.
They are points which will become classic, and we are of opinion that
our readers will not be displeased at again finding here subjects which
become, every time the occasion presents itself, topics of earnest and
important discussion.
We shall preface these observations with a description, also from
Napoleon’s dictation, of the resources which France still possessed
after the loss of the battle.
“The situation of France was critical, but not desperate, after the
battle of Waterloo. Every preparatory measure had been taken, on the
supposition of the failure of the attack upon Belgium. Seventy thousand
men were rallied on the 27th, between Paris and Laon; from 25 to 30,000,
including the depôts of the guard, were on their march from Paris and
the depots; General Rapp, with 25,000 men, chosen troops, was expected
on the Marne, in the beginning of July; all the losses sustained in the
_materiel_ of the artillery had been repaired. Paris, alone, contained
500 pieces of field-artillery, and only 170 had been lost. Thus an army
of 120,000 men, equal to that which had passed the Sambre on the 15th,
with a train of artillery, consisting of 350 pieces of cannon, would
cover Paris by the 1st of July. That capital possessed, independently of
these means, for its defence, 36,000 men of the National Guard, 30,000
sharpshooters, 6000 gunners, 600 battering cannon, formidable
entrenchments on the right bank of the Seine, and, in a few days, those
of the left bank would have been entirely completed. The Anglo-Dutch and
Prusso-Saxon armies, diminished, however, by more than 80,000 men, and
no longer exceeding 140,000, could not cross the Somme with more than
90,000; they would have to wait there for the co-operation of the
Austrian and Russian armies, which could not be on the Marne before the
15th of July. Paris had, consequently, twenty-five days to prepare for
its defence, to complete the arming of its inhabitants, its
fortifications, its supplies of provisions, and to draw troops from
every point of France. Even by the 15th of July, not more than 30, or
40,000 men could have arrived on the Rhine. The mass of the Russian and
Austrian armies could not take the field before a later period. Neither
arms, nor ammunition, nor officers were wanting in the capital; the
number of sharpshooters might be easily augmented to 80,000, and the
field artillery could be increased to 600 pieces.
“Marshal Suchet, in conjunction with General Lécourbe, would have had,
at the same time, upwards of 30,000 men before Lyons, independently of
the garrison of that city, which would have been well armed, well
supplied with provisions, and well protected by entrenchments. The
defence of all the strong places was secured; they were commanded by
chosen officers, and garrisoned by faithful troops. Every thing might be
repaired, but decision, energy, and firmness, on the part of the
officers, of the Government, of the Chambers, and of the whole nation,
were necessary. It was requisite that France should be animated by the
sentiment of honour, of glory, of national independence; that she should
fix her eyes upon Rome after the battle of Cannæ, and not upon Carthage
after that of Zama!!! If France had raised herself to that height, she
would have been invincible. Her people contained more of the military
elements than any other people in the world. The _materiel_ of war
existed in abundance, and was adequate to every want.
“On the 21st of June, Marshal Blucher and the Duke of Wellington entered
the French territory at the head of two columns. On the 22nd, the powder
magazine at Avesnes took fire, and the place surrendered. On the 24th,
the Prussians entered Guise, and the Duke of Wellington was at Cambray.
He was at Peronne on the 26th. During the whole of this time, the
fortresses on the first, second, and third line in Flanders were
invested. The two generals learned, however, on the 25th, the Emperor’s
abdication, which had taken place on the 22d, the insurrection of the
Chambers, the discouragement occasioned by these circumstances in the
army, and the hopes excited among our internal enemies. From that
moment, they thought only of marching upon the capital, under the walls
of which they arrived at the latter end of June, with fewer than 90,000
men; an enterprise that would have proved fatal to them, and drawn on
their total ruin, had they hazarded it in the presence of Napoleon: but
that Prince had abdicated!!! The troops of the line at Paris, more than
6000 men of the depôts of the guard, the sharpshooters of the National
Guard, chosen from among the people of that great capital, were devoted
to him; they had it in their power to exterminate the domestic enemy!!!
But in order to explain the motives which regulated his conduct in that
important crisis, which was attended with such fatal results both for
him and for France, the narrative must go back to an earlier period.
_First Observation._—“The Emperor has been reproached, 1st, With having
resigned the dictatorship, at the moment when France stood most in need
of a dictator; 2nd, With having altered the constitutions of the empire,
at a moment when it was necessary to think only of preserving it from
invasion; 3rd, With having permitted the Vendeans to be alarmed, who
had, at first, refused to take arms against the imperial government;
4th, With having assembled the Chambers, when he ought to have assembled
the army; 5th, With having abdicated and left France at the mercy of a
divided and inexperienced assembly; for, in fine, if it be true, that it
was impossible for the Prince to save the country without the confidence
of the nation, it is not less true that the nation could not, in these
critical circumstances, preserve either its happiness or its
independence without Napoleon.
_Second Observation._—“The art, with which the movements of the
different bodies of the army were concealed from the enemy’s knowledge,
on the opening of the campaign, cannot be too attentively remarked.
Marshal Blucher and the Duke of Wellington were surprised; they saw
nothing, knew nothing, of the operations which were carrying on near
their advanced posts.
“In order to attack the two hostile armies, the French might have
out-flanked their right or left, or penetrated their centre. In the
first case, they might have advanced by the way of Lisle, and fallen in
with the Anglo-Dutch army; in the second, they might have moved forward
by Givet and Charlemont, and have fallen in with the Prusso-Saxon army.
These two armies would have remained united, since they must have been
pressed the one upon the other, from the right to the left, and from the
left to the right. The Emperor adopted the plan of covering his
movements with the Sambre, and piercing the line of the two armies at
Charleroi, their point of junction, executing his manœuvres with
rapidity and skill. He thus discovered, in the secrets of the art, means
to supply the place of 100,000 men, whom he needed. The plan was
executed with boldness and prudence.
_Third Observation._—“The character of several generals had been
affected by the events of 1814; they had lost somewhat of that spirit,
of that resolution, and that confidence, by which they had gained so
much glory and so much contributed to the success of former campaigns.
“1st.—On the 15th of June, the third corps was to march at three o’clock
in the morning, and arrive at Charleroi at ten; it did not arrive until
three o’clock in the afternoon.
“2ndly.—The same day the attack on the woods in front of Fleurus, which
had been ordered at four in the afternoon, did not take place until
seven. Night came on before the troops could enter Fleurus, where the
Commander in Chief had intended to establish his head-quarters the same
day. The loss of seven hours was very vexatious on the opening of a
campaign.
“3rdly.—Ney received orders to advance on the 16th with 43,000 men, who
composed the left under his command, in front of Quatre-Bras, to take up
a position there at day-break, and even to entrench himself; he
hesitated, and lost eight hours. The Prince of Orange, with only 9000
men, retained, on the 16th until three o’clock in the afternoon, that
important position. When at length, the Marshal received at twelve
o’clock at noon the order dated from Fleurus, and saw, that the Emperor
was on the point of attacking the Prussians, he advanced against
Quatre-Bras, but only with half his force, leaving the other half to
cover his retreat at the distance of two leagues in the rear; he forgot
it until six in the evening, when he felt the want of it for his own
defence. In other campaigns, that General would have made himself master
of the position in front of Quatre-Bras at six o’clock in the morning;
he would have routed and captured the whole of the Belgic division, and
either turned the Prussian army by sending a detachment on the Namur
road to fall on the rear of their line of battle; or, by moving rapidly
along the road to Gennapes, he would have surprised and destroyed the
Brunswick division on its march, and the fifth English division as it
advanced from Brussels. He would have afterwards marched to meet the
third and fourth English divisions, which were advancing by way of
Nivelles, and were both destitute of cavalry and artillery, and
overwhelmed with fatigue. Ney, who was always first in the heat of
battle, forgot the troops that were not directly engaged. The courage
which a Commander in Chief should display is different from that of a
general of division, as that of the latter ought to differ from the
bravery of a captain of grenadiers.
“4thly.—The advanced guard of the French army did not arrive on the
16th, in front of Waterloo, until six o’clock in the evening; it would
have arrived at three but for some vexatious hesitations. The Emperor
was very much mortified at the delay, and, pointing at the sun,
exclaimed, “What would I now give to have the power of Joshua, and to
stop its progress for two hours!”
_Fourth Observation._—“The French soldier never displayed more bravery,
cheerfulness, and enthusiasm; he was animated with the sentiment of his
superiority over all the soldiers of Europe. His confidence in the
Emperor was altogether unabated; it had, perhaps, increased: but he was
suspicious and distrustful of his other Commanders. The treasons of 1814
were always in his thoughts, and he was uneasy at every movement which
he did not understand; he thought he was betrayed. At the moment when
the first cannon-shots were firing near St. Amand, an old corporal
approached the Emperor and said: “Sire, beware of General Soult; be
assured that he is a traitor.”—“Fear nothing,” replied the Emperor, “I
can answer for him as for myself.” In the middle of the battle, an
officer informed Marshal Soult that General Vandamme had gone over to
the enemy, and that his soldiers demanded, with loud cries, that the
Emperor should be made acquainted with it. At the close of the battle, a
dragoon, with his sabre covered with blood, galloped up to him crying,
“Sire, come instantly to the division. General Dhénin is persuading the
dragoons to go over to the enemy.”—“Did you hear him?“—“No, Sire, but an
officer, who is looking for you, saw him and ordered me to tell your
Majesty.” During this time, the gallant General Dhénin received a cannon
shot, which carried off one of his legs, after he had repulsed the
enemy’s charge.
“On the 14th, in the evening, Lieutenant-General B——, Colonel C——, and
V——, an officer of the staff, deserted and went over to the enemy. Their
names will be held in execration as long as the French shall constitute
a nation. The uneasy feelings of the troops had been considerably
aggravated by that desertion. It appears nearly certain that the cry of
Sauve _qui peut_ was raised among the soldiers of the fourth division of
the first corps, on the evening of the battle of Waterloo, when Marshal
Blucher attacked the village of La Haye. That village was not defended
as it ought to have been.[11] It is equally probable that several
officers, charged with the communication of orders, disappeared. But, if
some officers deserted, not a single private was guilty of that crime.
Several killed themselves on the field of battle, where they lay
wounded, when they learned the defeat of the army.
Footnote 11:
General Durutte, who was mutilated on that disastrous day, and who
commanded the fourth division here mentioned, declares that there must
be some mistake in regard to the number specified in this dictation of
Napoleon’s; or that there was some inaccuracy or malice in the report
that was made to him.
_Fifth Observation._—“In the battle of the 17th, the French army was
divided into three bodies; 69,000 men under the Emperor’s command,
marched against Brussels by the way of Charleroi; 34,000, under the
command of Marshal Grouchy, directed their operations against that
capital by way of Wavres, in pursuit of the Prussians; 7 or 8000 men
remained on the field of battle at Ligny, of whom 3000, belonging to
Girard’s division, were employed in assisting the wounded, and in
forming a reserve for any unexpected casualty at Quatre-Bras; and 4 or
5000 continued with the reserve at Fleurus and at Charleroi. The 34,000
men under the command of Marshal Grouchy, with 108 pieces of cannon,
were sufficient to drive the Prussian rear-guard from any position it
might take up, to press upon the retreat of the conquered army, and to
keep it in check. It was a glorious result of the victory of Ligny, to
be thus enabled to oppose 34,000 men to an army which had consisted of
120,000. The 69,000 men, under the Emperor’s command, were sufficient to
beat the Anglo-Dutch army, composed of 90,000. The disproportion which
existed on the 15th between the two belligerent masses in the ratio of
one to two, was materially changed, and it no longer exceeded three to
four. Had the Anglo-Dutch army defeated the 69,000 men opposed to it,
Napoleon might have been reproached with having ill-calculated his
measures; but it is undeniable, even from the enemy’s admission, that,
unless General Blucher had arrived, the Anglo-Dutch army would have been
driven from the field of battle between eight and nine o’clock at night.
If Marshal Blucher had not arrived at eight with his first and second
corps, the march on Brussels with two columns, during the battle of the
17th, would have been attended with several advantages. The left would
have pressed upon and kept in check the Anglo-Dutch army; the right,
under the command of Marshal Grouchy, would have pursued and restrained
the operations of the Prusso-Saxon army; and in the evening, the whole
of the French army would have effected its junction on a line of less
than five leagues from Mont Saint Jean to Wavres, with its advanced
posts on the edge of the forest. But the fault committed by Marshal
Grouchy, in stopping on the 17th at Gembloux, having marched scarcely
two leagues in the course of the day, instead of pushing on three
leagues more in front of Wavres, was aggravated and rendered irreparable
by that which he committed the following day, the 18th, in losing twelve
hours, and arriving at four o’clock in the afternoon in front of Wavres,
when he should have been there at six in the morning.
“1st,—Grouchy, charged with the pursuit of Marshal Blucher, lost sight
of him for twenty-four hours, from four o’clock in the afternoon of the
17th until a quarter past twelve at noon on the 18th.
“2dly,—The movement of the cavalry on the plain, while General Bulow’s
attack was not yet repulsed, proved a distressing accident. It was the
intention of the Commander in Chief to order that movement, but not
until an hour later, and then it was to have been sustained by the
sixteen battalions of infantry belonging to the guard, with one hundred
pieces of cannon.
“3dly.—The horse grenadiers and the dragoons of the guard, under the
command of General Guyot, engaged without orders. Thus, at five in the
afternoon, the army found itself without a reserve of cavalry. If, at
half past eight, that reserve had existed, the storm which swept all
before it on the field of battle would have been dispersed, the enemy’s
charges of cavalry driven back, and the two armies would have slept on
the field, notwithstanding the successive arrivals of General Bulow and
Marshal Blucher: the advantage would also have been in favour of the
French army, as Marshal Grouchy’s 34,000 men, with 108 pieces of cannon,
were fresh troops and bivouacked on the field of battle. The enemy’s two
armies would have placed themselves in the night under cover of the
forest of Soignes. The constant practice in every battle was for the
horse-grenadiers and the dragoons of the guard never to lose sight of
the Emperor, and never to make a charge but in consequence of an order
verbally given by that Prince to the General who commanded them.
“Marshal Mortier, who was Commander in Chief of the guards, gave up the
command on the 15th, at Beaumont, just as hostilities were on the point
of commencing, and no one was appointed in his stead, which was attended
with several inconvenient results.
_Sixth Observation._—“1st, The French army manœuvred on the right of
the Sambre, on the 13th and 14th. It encamped, the night between the
14th and 15th, within half a league of the Prussian advanced posts; and
yet Marshal Blucher had no knowledge of it, and when, on the morning of
the 15th, he learned at his head-quarters at Namur that the Emperor had
entered Charleroi, the Prusso-Saxon army was still cantoned over an
extent of thirty leagues; two days were necessary for him to effect the
junction of his troops. It was his duty, from the 15th of May, to
advance his head-quarters to Fleurus, to concentrate the cantonments of
his army within a radius of eight leagues, with his advanced posts on
the Meuse and Sambre. His army might then have been assembled at Ligny
on the 15th at noon, to await in that position the attack of the French
army, or to march against it in the evening of the 15th, for the purpose
of driving it into the Sambre.
“2dly.—Yet, notwithstanding this surprise of Marshal Blucher, he
persisted in the project of collecting his troops on the heights of
Ligny, behind Fleurus, exposing himself to the hazard of being attacked
before the arrival of his army. On the morning of the 16th, he had
collected but two corps, and the French army was already at Fleurus. The
third corps joined in the course of the day, but the fourth, commanded
by General Bulow, was unable to get up in time for the battle. Marshal
Blucher, the instant he learned the arrival of the French at Charleroi,
that is to say, on the evening of the 15th, ought to have assigned, as a
point of junction for his troops, neither Fleurus nor Ligny, which were
under the enemy’s cannon, but Wavres, which the French could not have
reached until the 17th. He would have also had the whole of the 16th,
and the night between the 16th and 17th, to effect the total junction of
his army.
“3dly.—After having lost the battle of Ligny, the Prussian General,
instead of making his retreat on Wavres, ought to have effected it upon
the army of the Duke of Wellington, whether at Quatre-Bras, where the
latter had maintained himself, or at Waterloo. The whole of Marshal
Blucher’s retreat on the morning of the 17th was contrary to common
sense, since the two armies, which were, on the evening of the 16th,
little more than three miles from each other, and had a fine road for
their point of communication, in consequence of which their junction
might have been considered as effected, found themselves, on the evening
of the 17th, separated by a distance of nearly twelve miles, and by
defiles and impassable ways.
“The Prussian General violated the three grand rules of war; 1st, To
keep his cantonments near each other; 2dly, To assign as a point of
junction a place where his troops can all assemble before those of the
enemy; 3dly, To make his retreat upon his reinforcements.
_Seventh Observation._—“1st, The Duke of Wellington was surprised in his
cantonments; he ought to have concentrated them on the 15th of May, at
eight leagues about Brussels, and kept advanced guards on the roads from
Flanders. The French army was for three days manœuvring close upon
his advanced posts; it had commenced hostilities twenty four hours, and
its head-quarters had been twelve hours at Charleroi, and yet the
English General was at Brussels, ignorant of what was passing, and all
the cantonments of his army were still in full security, extended over a
space of more than twenty leagues.
“2dly.—The Prince of Saxe-Weimar, who belonged to the Anglo-Dutch army,
was, on the 16th, at four o’clock in the afternoon in position before
Frasne, and knew that the French army was at Charleroi. If he had
immediately despatched an aide-de-camp to Brussels, he would have
arrived there at six in the evening; and yet the Duke of Wellington was
not informed that the French army was at Charleroi until eleven at
night. He thus lost five hours, in a crisis, and against a man, that
rendered the loss of a single hour highly important.
“3dly.—The infantry, cavalry, and artillery of that army were in
cantonments, so remote from each other that the infantry was engaged at
Waterloo without cavalry or artillery, which exposed it to considerable
loss, since it was obliged to form in close columns to make head against
the charges of the cuirassiers, under the fire of fifty pieces of
cannon. These brave men were slaughtered without cavalry to protect or
artillery to avenge them. As the three branches of an army cannot, for
an instant, dispense with each other’s assistance, they should be always
cantoned and placed in such a way as to be able to assist each other.
“4th.—The English General, although surprised, assigned Quatre-Bras,
which had been, for the last four-and-twenty hours in possession of the
French, as the rallying point of his army. He exposed his troops to
partial defeats as they gradually arrived; the danger which they
incurred was still more considerable, since they came without artillery
and without cavalry; he delivered up his infantry to his enemy
piece-meal, and destitute of the assistance of the two other branches.
He should have fixed upon Waterloo for his point of junction; he would
then have had the day of the 16th, and the night between the 16th and
17th, an interval quite sufficient, to collect the whole of his army,
infantry, cavalry, and artillery. The French could not have arrived
until the 17th, and would have found all his troops in position.
_Eighth Observation._—“1st, The English General gave battle at Waterloo
on the 18th; that measure was contrary to the interests of his nation,
to the general system of war adopted by the Allies, and to all the rules
of war. It was not the interest of England, who wants so many men to
recruit her armies in India, in her American colonies, and in her vast
establishments, to expose herself, with a generous vivacity, to a
sanguinary contest in which she might lose the only army she had, and
expend, at the very least, her best blood. The plan of the Allies
consisted in operating in a mass and in avoiding all partial actions.
Nothing was more contrary to their interests and their plan than to
expose the success of their cause in a doubtful battle with a nearly
equal force, in which all the probabilities were against them. If the
Anglo-Dutch army had been destroyed at Waterloo, of what use to the
allies would have been the great number of armies that were preparing to
cross the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees?
“2ndly.—The English General, in accepting the battle of Waterloo, placed
his reliance on the co-operation of the Prussians, but that co-operation
could not be carried into effect until the afternoon; he therefore
continued exposed alone from four o’clock in the morning until five in
the afternoon, that is to say, for thirteen hours; no battle lasts
generally more than six hours; that co-operation was therefore an
illusion.
“But, if he relied upon the co-operation of the Prussians, he must have
supposed that the whole of the French army was opposed to him, and he
must consequently have undertaken to defend his field of battle, during
thirteen hours, with 90,000 men of different nations, against an army of
104,000 French. That calculation was evidently false; he could not have
maintained himself three hours; the battle would have been decided by
eight o’clock in the morning, and the Prussians would have arrived only
to be taken in flank. Both armies would have been destroyed in one
battle. If he calculated that a part of the French army had, conformably
to the rules of war, pursued the Prussian army, he ought, in that case,
to have been convinced that he could receive no assistance from it, and
that the Prussians, beaten at Ligny, having lost from 25 to 30,000 men
on the field of battle, having 20,000 scattered and dispersed over the
country, and pursued by from 35 to 40,000 victorious French, would not
have risked any fresh operation, and would have considered themselves
scarcely sufficient to maintain a defensive position. In that case, the
Anglo-Dutch army alone would have had to sustain the shock of 69,000
French during the whole of the 18th, and there is no Englishman who will
not admit that the result of that struggle could not have been doubtful,
and that their army was not so constituted as to be capable of
sustaining the attack of the imperial army for four hours.
“During the whole of the night between the 17th and 18th, the weather
was horrible, and the roads were impassable until nine o’clock in the
morning. This loss of six hours from day-break, was entirely in the
enemy’s favour; but could the English General stake the fate of such a
struggle upon the weather which happened in the night between the 17th
and 18th? Marshal Grouchy, with 34,000 men and 180 pieces of cannon,
found out the secret, which one would suppose was not to be found out,
of not being in the engagement of the 18th, either on the field of
battle of Mont St. Jean or of Wavres. But, had that Marshal pledged
himself to the English General to be led astray in so strange a manner?
The conduct of Marshal Grouchy was as unexpected as that his army
should, on its march, be swallowed up by an earthquake. Let us
recapitulate. If Marshal Grouchy had been on the field of battle of Mont
St. Jean, as he was supposed to be by the English General and the
Prussian General, during the whole night between the 17th and 18th, and
all the morning of the 18th, and the weather had allowed the French army
to be drawn up in order of battle at four o’clock in the morning, the
Anglo-Dutch army would have been dispersed and cut in pieces before
seven; its ruin would have been complete, and if the weather had not
allowed the French army to range itself in order of battle until ten,
the fate of the Anglo-Dutch army would have been decided before one
o’clock; the remains of it would have been driven either beyond the
forest or in the direction of Hal, and there would have been quite time
enough in the afternoon to go and meet Marshal Blucher, and treat him in
a similar manner. If Marshal Grouchy had encamped in front of Wavres in
the night between the 17th and 18th, no detachment could have been sent
by the Prussians to save the English army, which must have been
completely beaten by the 69,000 French opposed to it.
“3dly.—The position of Mont St. Jean was ill chosen. The first requisite
of a field of battle is to be without defiles in its rear. The English
General derived no advantage, during the battle, from his numerous
cavalry; he did not think that he ought to be and would be attacked on
the left; he believed that the attack would be made on his right.
Notwithstanding the diversion operated in his favour by General Bulow’s
30,000 Prussians, he would have twice effected his retreat, during the
battle, had that measure been possible. Thus, in reality, how strange
and capricious are human events! the bad choice of his field of battle,
which prevented all possibility of retreat, was the cause of his
success!!!
_Ninth Observation._—“It may be asked, what then should have been the
conduct of the English General, after the battle of Ligny and the
engagement of Quatre Bras? On this point posterity will not entertain
two opinions: he ought, in the night between the 17th and 18th, to have
crossed the forest of Soignes, by the road of Charleroi; the Prussian
army ought also to have crossed it by the road of Wavres; the armies
would have effected a junction by break of day in Brussels; left their
rearguards for the defence of the forest, gained some days in order to
give time to the Prussians, dispersed after the battle of Ligny, to join
their army; reinforced themselves with fourteen English regiments, which
were in garrison in the fortresses of Belgium, or had been just landed
at Ostend, on their return from America, and let the Emperor of the
French manœuvre as he pleased.
“Would he, with an army of 100,000 men have traversed the forest of
Soignes to attack in an open country the two united armies, consisting
of more than 200,000 men, and in position? It would have certainly been
the most advantageous thing that could have happened to the allies.
Would he have been content with taking up a position himself? He could
not have long remained in an inactive state, since 300,000 Russians,
Austrians, Bavarians, &c. were on their march to the Rhine; they would
have been in a few weeks on the Marne, which would have compelled him to
hasten to the assistance of his capital. It was then that the
Anglo-Prussian army ought to have marched and effected its junction with
the Allies, under the walls of Paris. It would have exposed itself to no
risk, suffered no loss, and have acted conformably to the interests of
the English nation, and the general plan of carrying on the war adopted
by the Allies, and sanctioned by the rules of the military art. From the
15th to the 18th, the Duke of Wellington invariably manœuvred as his
enemy wished; he executed nothing which the latter apprehended he would.
The English infantry was firm and solid; the cavalry might have
conducted itself better: the Anglo-Dutch army was twice saved, in the
course of the day, by the Prussians—the first time before three o’clock,
by the arrival of General Bulow with 30,000 men, and the second time by
the arrival of Marshal Blucher with 31,000 men. In that battle, 69,000
French beat 120,000 men; the victory was wrested from them, between
eight and nine, by 150,000 men.
“Let the feelings of the people of London be imagined, if they had been
doomed to hear of the destruction of their army, and the prodigal waste
of their best blood, in support of the cause of kings against that of
nations, of privileges against equality, of the oligarchs against the
liberals, and of the principles of the Holy Alliance against those of
the sovereignty of the people!!!”
PLAN FOR A POLITICAL DEFENCE OF NAPOLEON;
SKETCHED BY HIMSELF.
Tuesday, August 27th.—About four o’clock I joined the Emperor in the
garden: he had been engaged in dictating during the whole of the
morning. The wind was very rough, and the Emperor declined riding out in
the calash: he therefore walked about for a considerable time in the
great alley through the wood, attended by all the persons of his suite.
He jokingly teased one of the party, by observing that he was sulky, and
accusing him of being very often discontented and ill-humoured, &c.
The Emperor, on rising from the dinner table, adverted to his recent
protest against the treaty of the 2d of August. He expatiated with
warmth on the subject, and remarked, while he walked rapidly about the
apartment, that he intended to draw up another protest, on a more
extensive and important scale, against the Bill that had been passed in
the British Parliament. He would prove, he said, that the Bill was not a
law, but a violation of every existing law. Napoleon was proscribed, and
not judged by it. The English Parliament had done, not what was just,
but what was deemed to be expedient; it had imitated Themistocles,
without hearing Aristides. The Emperor then arraigned himself before all
the nations in Europe, and proved that each would successively acquit
him. He took a review of the different acts of his reign, and justified
them all.
“The French and the Italians,” said he, “lament my absence; I carry with
me the gratitude of the Poles, and even the late and bitter regrets of
the Spaniards. Europe will soon deplore the loss of the equilibrium, to
the maintenance of which my French empire was absolutely necessary. The
Continent is now in the most perilous situation, being continually
exposed to the risk of being overrun by Cossacks and Tartars. And the
English,” said he in conclusion, “the English will deplore their victory
at Waterloo! Things will be carried to such a length that posterity,
together with every well-informed and well-disposed person among our
contemporaries, will regret that I did not succeed in all my
enterprises.”
In course of his remarks, the Emperor occasionally rose to a pitch of
sublimity. I shall not follow him into all his details. He promised to
dictate the observations he had made, and said that he had already
sketched out a plan for his political defence, in fourteen paragraphs.
CATINAT; TURENNE; CONDÉ.—QUESTIONS RESPECTING THE GREATEST BATTLE FOUGHT
BY THE EMPEROR; THE BEST TROOPS, &C.
28th.—The Emperor did not go out until four o’clock; he had spent three
hours in the bath. The weather was very unpleasant, and in consequence
he merely took a few turns in the garden. He had just written to inform
the Governor that henceforth he would receive no strangers, unless they
were admitted to Longwood by passes from the Grand Marshal, as in the
time of Admiral Cockburn.
The Emperor proposed playing a game at chess; but, before he sat down to
do so, he took up a volume of Fenelon. It was _La Direction de
Conscience d’un Roi_. He read to us several articles, criticising them
with considerable spirit and gaiety. At length he threw down the volume,
saying that the name of an author had never influenced him in forming an
opinion of his writings; that he always judged of works according to the
sentiments with which they inspired him; being always equally willing to
praise or to censure. He added that, in spite of the name of Fenelon, he
had no hesitation in declaring that the work he had just looked through
was a mere string of rhapsodies; and truly it would be difficult to
refute this assertion.
After dinner, the Emperor conversed about the old marine establishment,
and alluded to M. de Grasse, and his defeat on the 12th of April. He
wished to learn some particulars on this subject; and he asked for the
Dictionary of Sieges and Battles. He looked over it, and it afforded him
matter for a multitude of observations. Catinat came under his
consideration, and the remarks he made on that commander lowered him
infinitely in our estimation. Napoleon said that he thought him very
inferior to the reputation he enjoyed, after viewing the scenes of his
operations in Italy, and reading his correspondence with Louvois.
“Having risen from the _tiers-état_,” said he, “and being educated for
the law, distinguished for urbanity of manners and moral integrity,
affecting the practice of equality, residing at St. Gratien, at the
gates of Paris, Catinat became the favourite of the _literati_ of the
capital and the philosophers of the day, who exalted him beyond his real
merits. He was in no way comparable to Vendôme.”
The Emperor said, that he had endeavoured, in the same manner, to study
the characters of Turenne and Condé, suspecting that they were also the
objects of exaggerated eulogy; but that he was convinced those two men
were fully entitled to all the commendation that has been bestowed on
them. With regard to Turenne, he remarked that his intrepidity encreased
in proportion as he acquired experience; as he grew old, he evinced
greater courage than he seemed to possess in early life. The contrary
was observable in Condé, who displayed so much dauntless valour at the
commencement of his career.
Now that I am alluding to Turenne, Condé, and other distinguished men, I
may mention, as a curious fact, that I never, by any chance, heard
Napoleon utter the name of Frederick the Great. Yet many circumstances
prove that Frederick held a high rank in Napoleon’s regard. The large
silver watch, a kind of alarum used by that Prince, which hangs by the
fire-place in the Emperor’s apartment at St. Helena;—the eagerness with
which Napoleon, on his entrance into Potzdam, seized the sword of the
Prussian hero, exclaiming, “Let those who will seek other spoil; I value
this beyond millions!”—finally, his long and silent contemplation of the
tomb of Frederick—sufficiently attest the deep interest which Napoleon
attached to every thing connected with that sovereign.[12]
Footnote 12:
After my removal from Longwood, Napoleon undertook a special work on
Frederick the Great, with notes and Commentaries on his Campaigns.
In the Dictionary of Sieges and Battles, which the Emperor was looking
over to-day, he found his name mentioned in every page; but connected
with anecdotes either totally false, or at least misstated. This led him
to exclaim against the whole swarm of inferior writers, and their
unworthy abuse of the pen. “Literature,” he said, “had become the food
of the vulgar, while it ought to have been reserved exclusively for
people of refined taste.
“For example,” said the Emperor, “it is affirmed that, when at Arcole, I
one night took the post of a sentinel who had fallen asleep. This idea
was doubtless conceived by a citizen, by a lawyer, perhaps, but
certainly not by a soldier. The author evidently wishes to represent me
in a favourable point of view; and he of course imagined that nothing
could reflect greater credit on me than the story he has invented. He
certainly wrote it with the view of doing me honour; but he knew not
that I was totally incapable of the action he describes. I was much too
fatigued for any such thing; and it is very probable that I should
myself have fallen asleep before the sentinel.”
We then enumerated about fifty or sixty great battles that had been
fought by the Emperor. Some one present having asked which was the
greatest, the Emperor replied that it was difficult to answer that
question, since it was first necessary to enquire what was meant by the
greatest battle. “Mine,” continued he, “cannot be judged of separately.
They had no unity of place, action or design. They formed merely a
portion of extensive plans. They can therefore only be judged of by
their results. The battle of Marengo, which was so long undecided,
procured for us the dominion of all Italy; Ulm annihilated a whole army;
Jena threw the whole Prussian monarchy into our hands; Friedland opened
to us the Russian empire; and Eckmühl decided the fate of a war. The
battle of Moscow was one in which the greatest talent was displayed, and
in which the fewest results were obtained. Waterloo, where every thing
failed, would, had every thing succeeded, have saved France and
re-established Europe.”
Madame de Montholon having asked what troops might be accounted the
best, “Those who gain victories, Madam,” replied the Emperor. “But,”
added he, “soldiers are capricious and inconstant, like you ladies. The
best troops were the Carthagenians under Hannibal; the Romans under the
Scipios; the Macedonians under Alexander; and the Prussians under
Frederick.” He thought, however, he might safely affirm that the French
troops were, of all others, those who could most easily be rendered the
best, and preserved so.
“With my complete guard of 40 or 50,000 men, I would have pledged myself
to march through all Europe. It may, perhaps, be possible to produce
troops as good as those who composed my army of Italy and Austerlitz;
but certainly nothing can ever surpass them.”
The Emperor, who had dwelt for a considerable time on this subject,
which was so interesting to him, suddenly recollecting himself, asked
what it was o’clock. He was informed that it was eleven.—“Well,” said
he, rising, “we at least have the merit of having got through our
evening without the help of either tragedy or comedy.”
MADAME DE COTTIN’S MATHILDE, &C.—ALL FRENCHMEN INTERESTED IN
NAPOLEON.—DESAIX AND NAPOLEON AT MARENGO.—SIR SIDNEY SMITH.—CAUSE OF
GENERAL BONAPARTE’S RETURN TO FRANCE.—ACCOUNT OF HIS VOYAGE.—INSTANCES
OF THE CAPRICE OF FORTUNE.
29th. About two o’clock the Emperor desired me to attend him in his
chamber, and he gave me some private orders. At four I rejoined him. I
found him sitting under the tent, surrounded by all his suite; he was
swinging backward and forward on his chair, laughing, talking, and
making every effort to be cheerful, while, at the same time, he
continually repeated that he felt dull and languid. He rose and took a
drive in the calash.
After dinner, the conversation turned on romance writing. Some one
mentioned Madame Cottin’s Mathilde, the scene of which is laid in Syria.
The Emperor asked the person who had alluded to the work whether he had
ever seen Madame Cottin, whether she liked him (Napoleon), whether her
work was favourable to him, &c., but as he did not receive a ready
answer he thus continued: “But every body has loved me and hated me:
every one has been for me and against me by turns. I may truly say that
there is not a single Frenchman in whom I have not excited interest. All
must have loved me, from Collot d’Herbois (had he lived) to the Prince
of Condé; only not all at the same time but at different intervals and
periods. I was like the sun which crosses the equator to travel through
the ecliptic. According as my influence was felt in each different
climate, all hopes expanded, and I was blessed and adored; but when I
had departed, when I was no longer understood, unfavourable sentiments
arose.”
Egypt next became the subject of conversation; and the Emperor again
sketched the characters of Kleber and Desaix. The latter joined the
First Consul on the eve of the battle of Marengo. Napoleon asked him how
he could have thought of signing the capitulation of Egypt; since the
army was sufficiently numerous to maintain possession of it. “We ought
not to have lost Egypt,” he observed.—“That’s very true,” replied
Desaix, “and the army was certainly numerous enough to enable us to
retain possession of the country. But the General-in-chief left us; and
at that distance from home, the General-in-chief is not a single man in
the army; he is the half, the three-fourths, the five-sixths of it. I
had no alternative but to resign the possession of the country. I doubt
whether I could have succeeded had I acted otherwise; besides, it would
have been criminal to make the attempt, for in such a case it is a
soldier’s duty to obey, and I did so.”
Desaix, immediately after his arrival at Marengo, obtained the command
of the reserve. Towards the end of the battle, and amidst the greatest
apparent disorder, Napoleon came up to him:—“Well,” said Desaix,
“affairs are going on very badly, the battle is lost. I can only secure
the retreat. Is it not so?”—“Quite the contrary,” said the First Consul;
“to me the result of the battle was never for a moment doubtful. Those
masses, which you see in disorder on the right and left, are marching to
form in your rear. The battle is gained. Order your column to advance:
you have but to reap the glory of the victory.”
The Emperor afterwards spoke of Sir Sidney Smith, He had, he said, just
read in the Moniteur the documents relating to the convention of
El-Arish, in which he remarked that Sir Sidney had evinced a great share
of intelligence and integrity. The Emperor said he bewildered Kleber by
the stories which he made him believe. But when Sir Sidney received
intelligence of the refusal of the English Government to ratify the
treaty, he was very much dissatisfied, and behaved very honourably to
the French army. “After all,” said the Emperor, “Sir Sidney Smith is not
a bad man. I now entertain a better opinion of him than I did;
particularly after what I daily witness in the conduct of his
confederates.”
It was Sir Sidney Smith who, by communicating the European journals to
Napoleon, brought about the departure of the General-in-chief, and
consequently the dénouement of Brumaire. The French, on their return
from St. Jean d’Acre, were totally ignorant of all that had taken place
in Europe for several months. Napoleon, eager to obtain intelligence,
sent a flag of truce on board the Turkish admiral’s ship, under the
pretence of treating for the ransom of the prisoners whom he had taken
at Aboukir, not doubting that the envoy would be stopped by Sir Sidney
Smith, who carefully prevented all direct communication between the
French and the Turks. Accordingly, the French flag of truce received
directions from Sir Sidney to go on board his ship. He experienced the
handsomest treatment; and the English commander, having among other
things ascertained that the disasters of Italy were quite unknown to
Napoleon, he indulged in the malicious pleasure of sending him a file of
newspapers.
Napoleon spent the whole night in his tent, perusing the papers; and he
came to the determination of immediately proceeding to Europe, to repair
the disasters of France, and, if possible, to save her from destruction.
Admiral Ganthaume, who brought Napoleon from Egypt in Le Murion frigate,
frequently related to me the details of his voyage. The Admiral remained
at head-quarters after the destruction of the fleet at Aboukir. Shortly
after the return from Syria, and immediately after a communication with
the English squadron, the General-in-chief sent for him and directed him
to proceed forthwith to Alexandria, to fit out secretly, and with all
possible speed, one of the Venetian frigates that were lying off that
port, and to let him know when the vessel was ready to sail.
These orders were executed. The General-in-chief, who was making a tour
of inspection, proceeded to an unfrequented part of the coast, with a
party of his guides. Boats were in readiness to receive them, and they
were conveyed to the frigate without passing through Alexandria.
The frigate weighed that very evening, in order to get out of sight of
the English cruisers and the fleet that was anchored at Aboukir, before
daylight. Unfortunately, a calm ensued while the vessel was still within
sight of the coast, and from the tops the English ships at Aboukir were
still discernible.
The utmost alarm prevailed on board the frigate. It was proposed to
return to Alexandria; but Napoleon opposed this suggestion. The die was
cast; and happily they soon got beyond the reach of observation.
The voyage was very long and very unfavourable. The idea of being
overtaken by the English frequently occasioned alarm. Though no one knew
the intentions of the General, each formed his own conjectures, and the
utmost anxiety prevailed. Napoleon alone was calm and undisturbed.
During the greater part of the day he used to shut himself up in his
cabin, where, as Ganthaume informed me, he employed himself in reading
sometimes the Bible, and sometimes the Koran. Whenever he appeared on
deck, he displayed the utmost cheerfulness and ease, and conversed on
the most indifferent subjects.
General Menou was the last person to whom Napoleon spoke on shore. He
said to him, “My dear General, you must take care of yourselves here. If
I have the happiness to reach France, the reign of ranting shall he at
an end.”
On a perusal of the papers furnished by Sir Sidney Smith, Napoleon
formed such an idea of the disasters of France that he concluded the
enemy had crossed the Alps, and was already in possession of several of
our Southern Departments. When therefore the frigate approached the
coast of Europe, Napoleon directed the Admiral to make for Collioure and
Port-Vendre, situated at the extremity of the Gulf of Lyons. A gale of
wind drove them upon the coast of Corsica. They then entered Ajaccio,
where they obtained intelligence of the state of affairs in France.
Ganthaume informed me that he saw, at Ajaccio, the house which was
occupied by Napoleon’s family, the patrimonial abode. The arrival of
their celebrated countryman immediately set all the inhabitants of the
island in motion. A crowd of cousins came to welcome him, and the
streets were thronged with people.
Napoleon again set sail, and the frigate now steered towards Marseilles
and Toulon. However, just as they were on the point of reaching the
place of their destination, a new source of alarm arose. At sunset, on
the larboard of the frigate, and precisely in the sun’s rays, they
observed thirty sail making towards them with the wind aft. Ganthaume
proposed that the long boat of the frigate should be manned with the
best sailors, and that the General should get on board, and under favour
of the night, endeavour to gain the shore. But Napoleon declined this
proposition, observing that there would always be time enough for that
mode of escape; and he directed the captain to continue his course as
though nothing had occurred. Meanwhile, night set in, and the enemy’s
signal-guns were heard, at a distance, and right astern: thus it
appeared that the frigate had not been observed. Next day they anchored
at Frejus. The rest is well known.
The Emperor concluded the evening’s conversation, by relating to us
three curious instances of the caprice of fortune, which took place in
the same quarter of the world, and about the same period.
A corporal, who deserted from one of the regiments of the army of Egypt,
joined the Mamelukes, and was made a Bey. After his elevation, he wrote
a letter to his former General.
A fat sutler’s wife who had followed the French army, became the
favourite of the Pasha of Jerusalem. She could not write, but she sent a
messenger with her compliments to her old friends, assuring them that
she would never forget her country, but would always afford protection
to the French and the Christians. “She was,” said the Emperor, “the
Zaire of the day.”
A young peasant-girl of Cape Corso, being seized in a fishing-boat by
corsairs, was conveyed to Barbary, and subsequently became the ruling
favourite of the King of Morocco. The Emperor, after some diplomatic
communications, caused the brother of this young girl to be brought from
Corsica to Paris, and, after having him suitably fitted out, sent him to
his sister; but he never heard of them afterwards.
It was late when the Emperor retired to rest; he had spent upwards of
three hours in conversation.
30th.—I attended the Emperor at four o’clock. He had been engaged in
dictating under the tent. The Governor had returned answers to the
letters which M. de Montholon addressed to him by the Emperor’s orders.
To the first communication, containing the protest against the treaty of
the 2d of August, and various other complaints, no answer was returned,
except that the Governor wished to be informed what letter he had kept
back. This we could not tell him, since we had not seen the letters. We
had asked _him_ that question; and he was the only person capable of
answering it.
To the second letter, which stated that the Emperor would not receive
strangers at Longwood unless they were admitted by the Grand Marshal’s
passes, as was usual in the time of Admiral Cockburn, the Governor
replied that he had been sorry to see General Bonaparte troubled by
intrusive visitors at Longwood, and that he wished to prevent such
importunity for the future. This was a most revolting piece of irony,
considering the situation in which the Emperor was placed, and the tenor
of M. de Montholon’s letter.
After dinner the Emperor retired to the drawing-room, and desired us all
to seat ourselves round the table, to form, as he said, an academic
sitting. He began to dictate to us on some subjects; but when the parts
that had been written were read over to him, he resolved to cancel them.
Conversation was then resumed, and was kept up for a considerable time,
partly in a serious and partly in a lively strain. It was near one
o’clock when the Emperor retired. For some time past we have sat up
later than we used to do. This is a good sign: the Emperor feels better,
and he is more cheerful and talkative than he lately was.
HISTORICAL DOUBTS.—THE REGENCY OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS.—MADAME DE
MAINTENON.—HER MARRIAGE WITH LOUIS XIV.
31st.—The Emperor rose very early, and took a turn round the park alone.
On his return, not wishing to have any one disturbed, he desired my son,
who had risen, to sit down under the tent, and write from his dictation:
in this manner he employed himself for two hours. We all breakfasted
with him.
We took an airing in the calash. The conversation turned on the doubts
that were attached to various points of history. The Emperor made some
very curious remarks on this subject, and concluded with a circumstance
relating to the Regent. “If,” said he, “Louis XV. had died in his
childhood, and nothing was more possible, who would have doubted that
the Duke of Orleans had poisoned the whole royal family? Who would have
ventured to defend him? Had not one child survived, that Prince would
not have had justice done him.” The Emperor then alluded to the
character of the Duke of Orleans, and particularly to his errors in the
affair of the legitimate princes. “There he degraded himself,” said
Napoleon; “not to say, however, that their cause was good. Louis XIV.
usurped a right in nominating them to the succession. On the extinction
of the Royal House, the choice of a Sovereign is unquestionably the
prerogative of the nation. The act of Louis XIV. was doubtless an error
into which that Monarch was betrayed by his own greatness. He conceived
that every thing emanating from him must necessarily be great. Yet he
seemed to entertain a suspicion that the world might not be exactly of
his opinion; for he took precautions to consolidate his work by giving
his natural children in marriage to the legitimate princes and
princesses of the royal family. As to the Regency, it is very certain
that it devolved by right on the Duke of Orleans. Louis XIV.’s will was
a downright absurdity: it was a violation of our fundamental laws.
France was a monarchy, and he gave us a republic for a Regency.”
The Emperor then mentioned Madame de Maintenon, whose career, he said,
was most extraordinary. She was, he observed, the Bianca Capello[13] of
her age; but less romantic, and not quite so amusing. Pursuing his
historical doubts, he said a great deal on the subject of Madame de
Maintenon’s marriage with Louis XIV. He declared that he was sometimes
inclined to regard the circumstance as very problematical, in spite of
all that was said about it in the Memoirs of the time.
Footnote 13:
A noble Venetian lady of great beauty, whose adventures form a truly
romantic and dramatic history. She eloped from her father’s house to
follow a young Florentine pedlar, and was reduced to the greatest
wretchedness. She subsequently became Grand Duchess of Tuscany, and
she closed her career by coolly poisoning herself at table, in a fit
of vexation at seeing the Grand Duke, her husband, partake of a
poisoned dish, which she had prepared for her brother-in-law, Cardinal
de Medicis, who, on his part, obstinately abstained from tasting it.
“The fact is,” observed he, “that there does not, and never did, exist
any official and authentic proof of the marriage. What could be Louis
XIV.’s object in keeping the measure so strictly secret, both from his
contemporaries and posterity? and how happened it that the Noailles
family, to whom Madame de Maintenon was related, suffered nothing to
transpire on the subject? This was the more singular considering that
Madame de Maintenon survived Louis XIV.”
The Emperor, feeling somewhat fatigued this evening, retired to rest
early. He seemed indisposed and low spirited.
THE FRENCH MINISTERS, &C.—ANECDOTE OF M. DARU.—FADED
FINERY AT ST. HELENA.
Sunday, September 1st.—The Emperor went out about three o’clock: he said
that he had felt feeble, languid, and dull the whole of the day. We all
felt indisposed in the same way: it was the effect of the weather. We
strolled out to the great path in the wood, while the calash was
preparing; but no sooner had we reached the extremity of the path than a
shower of rain came on. It was so heavy that the Emperor was obliged to
take refuge at the foot of a gum-tree, the scanty foliage of which,
however, afforded but little shelter. The calash soon arrived to take us
up; and we were returning home with all speed, when we perceived the
Governor, at some distance, making towards us. The Emperor immediately
ordered the coachman to turn, observing, that of two evils he would
choose the least; and we took a circuitous route homewards, in spite of
the wind and rain. We, however, escaped Sir Hudson Lowe: that was an
advantage.
Before dinner, the Emperor, in his chamber, took a review of the
individuals who had been attached to his Household, the Council of
State, and the different ministerial departments. Alluding to M. Daru,
he observed that he was a man distinguished for probity and for
indefatigable application to business. At the retreat from Moscow, M.
Daru’s firmness and presence of mind were remarkable, and the Emperor
often afterwards said that he laboured like an ox, while he displayed
the courage of a lion.
Business seemed to be M. Daru’s element; he was incessantly occupied.
Soon after he was appointed Secretary of State, one of his friends was
expressing a fear that the immense business in which he would
thenceforth be absorbed might prove too much for him. “On the contrary,”
replied Daru, “I assure you that, since I have entered upon my new
functions, I seem to have absolutely nothing to do.” On one occasion
only was his vigour ever known to relax. The Emperor called him up,
after midnight, to write from his dictation: M. Daru was so completely
overcome by fatigue that he scarcely knew what he was writing; at length
he could hold out no longer, and he fell asleep over his paper. After
enjoying a sound nap, he awoke, and, to his astonishment, perceived the
Emperor by his side quietly engaged in writing. The shortness of the
candles informed him that his slumber had been of considerable duration.
While he sat for a few moments overwhelmed with confusion, his eyes met
those of the Emperor, who said to him: “Well, Sir, you see I have been
doing your work, since you would not do it yourself. I suppose you have
eaten a hearty supper, and passed a pleasant evening; but business must
not be neglected.”—“I pass a pleasant evening, Sire!” said M. Daru. “I
have been for several nights without sleep, and closely engaged. Of this
your Majesty now sees the consequence, and I am exceedingly sorry for
it.”—“Why did you not inform me of this?” said the Emperor, “I do not
want to kill you. Go to bed. Good night, M. Daru.” This was certainly a
characteristic trait, and one that was well calculated to remove the
false notions which were generally entertained respecting Napoleon’s
harshness of temper. But I know not by what fatality facts of this kind
were concealed from our knowledge, while any absurd inventions
unfavourable to the Emperor were so actively circulated. Was it because
the courtiers reserved their flattery for the interior of the palace,
and sought to create a sort of counterpoise, by assuming elsewhere an
air of opposition and independence? Be this as it may, had any
individual related traits of the above kind in the saloons of Paris, he
would probably have been told that he had invented them, or would have
been looked upon as a fool for giving credit to them.
The Grand Marshal and his lady came to dine at Longwood, which they were
accustomed to do every Sunday.
During dinner, the Emperor jokingly alluded to the faded finery of the
ladies. He said that their dresses would soon resemble the gay trappings
of those old misers who purchase their wardrobes from the dealers in
second-hand clothes; they no longer displayed the freshness and elegance
that characterized the millinery of Leroi, Despeaux, Herbault, &c. The
ladies craved indulgence for St. Helena; and their husbands reminded the
Emperor of his fastidiousness with regard to female dress at the
Tuileries, which, it was remarked, had proved the ruin of some families.
At this the Emperor laughed, and said that the idea of his scrupulous
taste in dress was a mere invention of the ladies of the Court, who made
it a pretence, or an excuse, for their extravagance. The conversation
then turned on our splendour at St. Helena. The Emperor said that he had
told Marchand he would wear every day the hunting-coat which he then had
on, until it was completely worn out: it was already very far gone.
Both before and after dinner the Emperor played a few games at chess: he
felt low-spirited and nervous, and retired to bed early.
THE CAMPAIGN OF SAXONY IN 1813.—REFLECTIONS.—ANALYSIS.—BATTLES| OF
LUTZEN AND WURTZEN.—NEGOTIATIONS.—BATTLES| OF DRESDEN, LEIPSIC,
HANAU,| &c.
Sept. 2.—To-day there was some horse-racing at the camp, at which one of
the Emperor’s suite was present.
The Emperor did not go out until late, and he walked to the calash. The
wind blew very hard, and he renounced his intention of taking a drive.
He sat down beneath the tent: but, finding it not very pleasant without
doors, he retired to his library, where he took up the Letters of Madame
de Chateauroux, looked through the Expedition to Bohemia, and analysed
the Life of Marshal de Belle-Isle. He again went out to take a walk in
the garden; but he returned almost immediately, and directed me to
follow him.
He took up a book relating to our last campaigns, and, after perusing it
for some time, he threw it down, saying, “It is a downright rhapsody—a
mere tissue of contradictions and absurdities.” He conversed for a
considerable time on the two celebrated campaigns of Saxony: his
observations were principally moral, and few or none military; I noted
down the following as the most remarkable: “That memorable campaign,”
said he, “will be regarded as the triumph of courage in the youth of
France; of intrigue and cunning in English diplomacy; of intelligence on
the part of the Russians; and of effrontery in the Austrian Cabinet. It
will mark the period of the disorganization of political societies, the
great separation of subjects from their Sovereigns; finally, the decay
of the first military virtues—fidelity, loyalty, and honour. In vain
people may write and comment, invent falsehoods and suppositions; to
this odious and mortifying result we must all come at last: time will
develop both its truth and its consequences.
“But it is a remarkable circumstance, in this case, that all discredit
is equally removed from sovereigns, soldiers, and people. It was
entirely the work of a few military intriguers and headlong politicians,
who, under the specious pretext of shaking off the foreign yoke and
recovering the national independence, purposely sold their own rulers to
envious rival Cabinets. The results soon became manifest: the King of
Saxony lost half his dominions, and the King of Bavaria was compelled to
make valuable restitutions. What did the traitors care for that? They
enjoyed their rewards and their wealth, and those who had proved
themselves most upright and innocent were visited with the severest
punishment. The King of Saxony, the most honest man who ever wielded a
sceptre, was stripped of half his territories; and the King of Denmark,
so faithful to all his engagements, was deprived of a crown! This,
however, was affirmed to be the restoration and the triumph of
morality!... Such is the distributive justice of this world!...
“To the honour of human nature, and even to the honour of Kings, I must
once more declare that never was more virtue manifested than amidst the
baseness which marked this period. I never for a moment had cause to
complain individually of the Princes our allies. The good King of Saxony
continued faithful to the last; the King of Bavaria loyally avowed to me
that he was no longer his own master; the generosity of the King of
Würtemburg was particularly remarkable; the Prince of Baden yielded only
to force, and in the very last extremity. All, I must render them this
justice, gave me due notice of the storm that was gathering, in order
that I might take the necessary precautions. But, on the other hand, how
odious was the conduct of subaltern agents! Military history will never
obliterate the infamy of the Saxons, who returned to our ranks for the
purpose of destroying us! Their treachery became proverbial among the
troops, who still use the term _Saxonner_ to designate the act of a
soldier who assassinates another. To crown all, it was a Frenchman, a
man for whom French blood purchased a crown, a nursling of France, who
gave the finishing stroke to our disasters! Gracious God!
“But in the situation in which I was placed, the circumstance which
served to fill up the measure of my distress was that I beheld the
decisive hour gradually approach. The star paled; I felt the reins slip
from my hands, and yet I could do nothing. Only a sudden turn of fortune
could save us: to treat, to conclude any compact, would have been to
yield like a fool to the enemy. I was convinced of this, and the event
sufficiently proved that I was not mistaken. We had, therefore, no
alternative but to fight; and every day, by some fatality or other, our
chances diminished. Treason began to penetrate into our ranks. Great
numbers of our troops sunk under the effects of fatigue and
discouragement. My lieutenants became dispirited, and, consequently,
unfortunate. They were no longer the same men who figured at the
commencement of the Revolution, or who had distinguished themselves in
the brilliant moments of my success. I have been informed that some
presumed to allege, in their defence, that at first they fought for the
Republic and for their country; while afterwards they fought only for a
single man, for his individual interests, and his ambition.
“Base subterfuge! Ask the young and brave soldiers, and the officers of
intermediate rank in the French army, whether such a calculation ever
entered their thoughts;—whether they ever saw before them any thing but
the enemy, or behind them any thing save the honour, glory, and triumph
of France! These men never fought better than at the period alluded to.
Why dissemble? Why not make a candid avowal? The truth is that,
generally speaking, the officers of high rank had gained every object of
their ambition. They were sated with wealth and honours. They had drunk
of the cup of pleasure, and they henceforth wished for repose, which
they would have purchased at any price. The sacred flame was
extinguished; they were willing to sink to the level of Louis XV.’s
marshals.”
If the words above quoted require any comment—if the sense here, or in
other similar passages of my Journal, should be found to be incomplete,
I must not be held responsible. I have literally noted down what
Napoleon uttered, and I am accountable for nothing more. I have already
several times mentioned that, when the Emperor spoke, I never ventured
to interrupt him by questions or remarks. On the subject of the
celebrated campaign of 1813, I may mention that, from various detached
conversations of Napoleon, which I have not noted down at the time when
they occurred, he was far from being deceived as to the crisis which
threatened France, and he correctly estimated the full extent of the
risk by which he was surrounded in the opening of the campaign. Ever
since his return from Moscow, he had seen the danger, he said, and
endeavoured to avert it. From that moment he resolved on making the
greatest sacrifices; but the choice of the proper moment for proclaiming
these sacrifices was the difficult point, and that which chiefly
occupied his consideration. If the influence of material power be great,
he said, the power of opinion is still greater; it is magical in its
effects. His object was to preserve it; and a false step, a word
inadvertently uttered, might for ever have destroyed the illusion. He
found it indispensable to exert the greatest circumspection, and to
manifest the utmost apparent confidence in his own strength. It was,
above all, necessary to look forward to the future.
His great fault, his fundamental error, was in supposing that his
adversaries always had as much judgment and knowledge of their own
interests, as he himself possessed. From the first, he said, he
suspected that Austria would avail herself of the difficulties in which
he was placed, in order to secure great advantages to herself; but he
never could have believed that the Monarch was so blind, or his advisers
so treacherous as to wish to bring about his (Napoleon’s) downfall, and
thereby leave their own country henceforth at the mercy of the
uncontrolled power of Russia. The Emperor pursued the same train of
reasoning with regard to the Confederation of the Rhine, which, he
admitted, might, perhaps, have cause to be dissatisfied with him; but
which, he concluded, must dread still more the idea of falling under the
power of Austria and Prussia. Napoleon conceived that the same arguments
were not inapplicable to Prussia; which, he presumed, could not wish
entirely to destroy a counterpoise, that was necessary to her
independence, and her very existence. Napoleon made full allowance for
the hatred of his enemies, and for the dissatisfaction and malevolence
which, perhaps, existed among his allies; but he could not suppose that
either wished for his destruction, since he felt himself to be so
necessary to all; and he acted accordingly. Such was Napoleon’s ruling
idea throughout the whole of this important period. It was the key of
his whole conduct to the very last hour, and even to the moment of his
fall. It must be carefully borne in mind, for it serves to explain many
things, perhaps, all;—his hostile attitude, his haughty language, his
refusal to treat, his determination to fight, &c.
If he should be successful, he thought he could then make honourable
sacrifices, and a glorious peace; while the illusion of his superiority
would remain undiminished. If, on the contrary, he should experience
reverses, it would still be time enough to make concessions; and he
concluded that the interest of the Austrians and all true Germans must
secure him the support of their arms or of their diplomacy; for he
supposed they were convinced, as he himself was, that his power had
henceforth become indispensable to the structure, repose, security, and
existence of Europe. But that of which he had reason to doubt proved
most prosperous: victory continued faithful to him; his first successes
were admirable, and almost incredible. On the other hand, that which he
believed to be infallible was precisely what failed him:—his natural
allies betrayed him, and hastened his downfall.
In support of what I have just alleged, and with the view of throwing
light on the Emperor’s remarks above quoted, I shall here insert a brief
recapitulation of the events of that fatal campaign. In France, at the
time, we were made acquainted only with its results; the bulletins gave
us but little information, and we received no foreign publications.
Besides, the period is now distant, and so many important events have
since occurred to occupy public attention, that these details may be
partly forgotten by those who once knew them. They are here arranged in
chronological order.
I extract this recapitulation from a work written by M. de Montveran,
which was published in 1820. The author has bestowed great care on the
collection of official and authentic documents; and he has availed
himself of the information furnished by preceding writers. I am,
therefore, of opinion, that this work is, unquestionably, the best that
has been written on the subject. M. de Montveran is far from being
favourable to Napoleon; however, it is but just to admit that he
maintains a tone of impartiality which does credit to his character,
while, at the same time, it enhances the merit of his work.
“On the 2nd of May, Napoleon opened the campaign of Saxony by the
victory of Lützen, a most surprising event, and one which reflects
immortal honour on the conquerors. A newly embodied army, without
cavalry, marched to face the veteran bands of Russia and Prussia; but
the genius of the Chief, and the valour of the young troops whom he
commanded, made amends for all. The French had no cavalry; but bodies of
infantry advanced in squares, flanked by an immense mass of artillery,
presenting the appearance of so many moving fortresses. Eighty-four
thousand infantry, consisting of French troops, or troops of the
Confederation, with only 4,000 cavalry, beat 107,000 Russians or
Prussians with more than 20,000 cavalry. Alexander and the King of
Prussia witnessed the conflict in person. Their celebrated guards could
not maintain their ground against our young conscripts. The enemy lost
18,000 men; our loss amounted to 12,000, and our want of cavalry
prevented us from reaping the usual fruit of our conquests. However, the
moral result of the victory was immense. The enthusiasm of our troops
resumed its ascendency, and the Emperor recovered the full influence of
opinion. The Allies retreated before him without venturing the chances
of another battle.[14]
Footnote 14:
At the victory of Lützen the Emperor sustained a severe loss in the
death of the brave and loyal Marshal Bessières, Duke of Istria, who
was so sincerely devoted to Napoleon. The King of Saxony raised a
monument to his memory on the very spot where he received his
death-blow. By a glorious coincidence the monument is similar to that
of Gustavus Adolphus, and is placed not far distant from it. It
consists of a simple stone surrounded by poplars. This is not the only
instance in which foreigners have rendered that homage to the memory
of brave Frenchmen, which their own countrymen have neglected.
“On the 9th, Napoleon entered Dresden as a conqueror, conducting back to
his capital the King of Saxony, who, from the consciousness of his own
interests, as well as the wish to remain faithful to his engagements,
had retired on the approach of the Allies, whose proposals he had
constantly rejected.
“On the 21st and 22d, Napoleon again triumphed at Würtzen and Bautzen.
The Allies had chosen their ground, which the brilliant campaigns of
Frederick had rendered classic. They had intrenched themselves, and they
thought their position impregnable: but every thing yielded to the grand
views and well-conducted plans of the French general who, at the very
commencement of the conflict, declared himself to be certain of the
victory.
“The Allies lost 18,000 or 20,000 men. They were unable to retain their
position, and they retired in disorder. The Emperor pursued them. He had
already passed through Lusatia, crossed Silesia, and reached the Oder,
when the Allies demanded an armistice to treat for peace; and Napoleon,
thinking the favourable moment had arrived, granted it.
“On the 4th of June, the armistice of Pleissvitz was concluded. This
event had the most decisive influence in producing our misfortunes; it
was the fatal knot to which were attached all the chances and destinies
of the campaign.
“Should the Emperor have granted this armistice, or have followed up his
advantages? This was, at the moment, a problem which time, and the
events that have proved so fatal to us, solved when too late. The
Emperor, crowned with victory, halted before his fallen enemies, to whom
he could now make concessions without compromising his dignity; his
sacrifices could be regarded only as moderation. Austria, hitherto
uncertain as to what course she should pursue, struck with our success,
rejoined us. Napoleon now reasonably hoped to see the ratification of a
peace which he wished for, and he would not let slip so favourable an
opportunity, to run the risk of a check that might have lost all, and
which was the more likely to take place since his army had marched
forward in haste and in the utmost disorder, and his rear was uncovered
and harassed by the enemy. He conceived that the armistice, at all
events, afforded him an opportunity of concentrating and organizing his
forces, and opening his communications with France, by which means he
should be enabled to receive immense reinforcements, and to create a
corps of cavalry.”
Unfortunately, in spite of all the Emperor’s calculations, this fatal
armistice proved advantageous only to our enemies: it was maintained for
nearly three months, and it served only to bring about their triumph and
our destruction. Austria, who was still our ally, by a deception, which
history will justly characterize, availed herself of that title to
oppose us with the greater advantage. Requiring delay, she obtained it.
The Russians, who were waiting for reinforcements, received them; the
Prussians doubled their numbers; the English subsidies arrived, and the
Swedish army rejoined. Secret associations were set on foot; a general
insurrection of the whole German population was excited; while, at the
same time, the defection of the Cabinets of the Rhenish Confederation,
and the corruption of the Allied officers, were effected. Treason also
began to creep into the superior ranks. General Jomini, the Chief of the
Staff of one of our army corps, went over to the enemy with all the
information he had been able to collect respecting the plans of the
campaign, &c.[15]
Footnote 15:
A reference to Count Montholon’s Memoirs of Napoleon will shew that
the Emperor admits the falsehood of this charge against Jomini, who he
says was not even acquainted with his plans.
The result sufficiently proved to the Emperor all the errors of the
armistice, and convinced him that he would have done better had he
persisted in pressing forward; for had he continued successful, the
Allies, alarmed at finding themselves deprived of the aid of Austria,
with whom they could no longer have maintained intelligence, cut off
from the Prince of Sweden, who would have remained behind, seeing
blockades of the fortresses of the Oder raised, and the war carried back
to Poland, to the gates of Dantzick, amidst a people ready to rise in a
mass—the Allies, I say, would infallibly have treated. If, on the other
hand, we had sustained a reverse, the consequences could not have been
more fatal than those which were actually experienced. The judicious
calculations of the Emperor ruined him: that which seemed to be
indiscretion and temerity would probably have saved him.