“After two months of difficulties and obstacles, the Congress opened
under the mediation of Austria; if, indeed, the term Congress can be
properly applied to an assembly in which no deliberations took place,
and where one party had determined beforehand that none should be held.
“The mediator and the adversaries were equally our enemies; all
concurred in their hostility to us, and they had already decided on war.
Why then did they wait? Because Austria still possessed a shade of
modesty, and she wished, in the debates, to gain a pretence for
declaring war against us. Prussia and Russia, on their part, thought it
necessary to preserve their credit in Europe by this false manifestation
of their desire and their efforts to preserve peace. All were merely
affixing the seal to their Machiavelian system.
“For them the real Congress was not the assembly at Prague; it had
already taken place two months before. Time has since thrown into our
hands the authentic records of the intrigues, machinations, and even
treaties, in which they were engaged during that interval. It is now
evident that the armistice was resorted to by pretended friends and
avowed enemies, only for the sake of artfully cementing the union that
was to effect the overthrow of Napoleon, and creating the triumvirate
destined to oppress Europe while it pretended to deliver her.
“Austria had, from interested motives, long delayed the opening of the
Congress of Prague. Resolved to repair her losses at any price, she did
not hesitate to sacrifice her honour, the better to ensure her success.
She masked her perfidy under the disguise of friendship. Declaring
herself our ally, and eagerly complimenting us on every new triumph, she
insisted, with an air of the warmest interest, on being our mediatrix
when she had already entered into an agreement to make common cause with
our enemies. Her propositions were accepted. But she wished to gain time
for her preparations; and thus every day fresh obstacles were started,
while the utmost tardiness was evinced in settling them.
“Austria at first offered her services as a mediatrix; but, changing her
tone in proportion as her warlike preparations advanced, she soon
signified her wish to become an arbitress, at the same time intimating
that she expected great advantages in return for the services she might
render. At length, after an armistice of two months, when Austria
thought herself perfectly prepared, and when every thing was agreed upon
among the coalesced powers, they opened the Congress, not to treat of
peace and to establish amicable relations, but to develop their real
sentiments, and to insult us unreservedly. The Russians, in particular,
behaved with unusual ill grace. They were no longer the Russians who
anxiously solicited an armistice after the routs of Lützen, Würtzen, and
Bautzen. They now looked upon themselves as the dictators of Europe,
which, indeed, they have since really become, by the spirit of their
diplomacy, the blindness of their allies, their geographical situation,
and finally by the force of things. But whom did Alexander select as his
minister to this Congress? Precisely one who, by personal circumstances,
was, according to the laws of France, unqualified for such a post;—one
who was by birth a Frenchman. Certainly it would have been difficult to
offer a more personal and direct insult. Napoleon felt it; but he
concealed his resentment.
“Under such circumstances much could not be expected from the Congress:
during the few days of its sitting, our enemies merely drew up a series
of notes more or less acrimonious, while the conduct of Austria was
marked by the most odious partiality.
“On the 10th of August, only two days after the first meeting of the
negotiators, the Russians and Prussians haughtily withdrew; and on the
12th, Austria, that faithful ally, that obsequious and devoted friend,
who had shewn herself so eager to become our mediatrix and arbitress,
suddenly laid aside those titles to declare war against us, allowing no
interval save that required for the signature of the manifesto, which
she had been for two months secretly concerting with her new allies, and
which will ever remain a record of her shame and degradation, since it
acknowledges the sacrifice of an Archduchess to the necessity of
crouching before a detested ally. History will decide on these acts.
However, to the honour of the throne and of morality, there is reason to
believe that most of these transactions, and in particular the real
course of affairs, was unknown to the Emperor Francis, who is reputed to
be the most gentle, upright, moral, and pious of princes. It has been
affirmed that many of these acts were determined on without his
knowledge, and that others were represented to him under a totally false
colouring. The whole of these disgraceful proceedings must be attributed
to British gold, to the craftiness of Russian diplomacy, and to the
passions of the Austrian aristocracy, excited by the English faction
which at that time ruled Europe.
“The Congress broke up with mutual feelings of irritation. The Emperor
then expressed his sentiments in official and public documents, in the
most forcible language, and in a tone of the highest superiority. But
this he did with the view of creating a favourable impression on the
public mind; for he remained so far master of himself as that, though
hastening to take up arms, he nevertheless demanded a renewal of the
negotiations, which were resumed at Prague. He deemed it advisable not
to lose the advantages of constant communications: Austria would be
easily detached if we obtained advantages, and she would be easily
convinced if we sustained reverses. Such was the Congress of Prague.
“It will perhaps be asked whether Napoleon was duped by this Congress
and the circumstances arising out of it. The answer is that he was not,
or at least not entirely. If he had not a knowledge of every fact, he
was never for a moment mistaken as to the intentions and sentiments that
were really entertained.
“Napoleon, from the moment of his first victory at Lutzen, had
authentically proposed a general congress. This he conceived to be the
only means of treating for a general peace, insuring the independence of
France, and the guarantee of the modern system. Every other mode of
negotiation appeared to him merely a lure; and if he seemed to depart
from this principle, in accepting the mediation of Austria, and agreeing
to the conferences at Prague, it was because, as time advanced, affairs
became more complicated. The defeat of Vittoria, the evacuation of
Spain, and the spirit of the French people, which was declining, had
considerably diminished his prosperity. He anticipated the result of the
negotiations: but he wished to gain time, in his turn, and to await the
course of events. He was not deceived as to the part which Austria would
act; and, without knowing precisely how far she would carry her
deception, he could well discern, from her mysterious conduct and
delays, what was likely to be her determination. At Dresden, he had even
had personal conversations with the first negotiator of the Austrian
government, who had sufficiently indicated the line of conduct he
intended to pursue. The Emperor having remarked that he had, after all,
eight hundred thousand men to oppose the enemy, the negotiator eagerly
added, ‘Your Majesty may say twelve hundred thousand; for you may, if
you please, join our force to your own.’ But what was to be the price of
this advantage? Nothing less than the restitution of Illyria, the
cession of the Duchy of Warsaw, the frontier of the Inn, &c. ‘And after
all,’ said the Emperor, ‘what should I have gained by this? Had we made
all these concessions, should we not have been humbling ourselves for
nothing, and furnishing Austria with the means of making farther
demands, and afterwards opposing us with greater advantage?’ He never
relinquished the idea that the true interests of Austria being closely
connected with our danger, we should be more certain of regaining her by
our misfortunes than of securing her by our concessions. Napoleon was
therefore deaf to every demand; but he had so little doubt of the
engagements which Austria had already contracted with our enemies that
he is described as having said, half good-humouredly and half
indignantly, to the Austrian negotiator: ‘Come now, confess: tell me how
much they have paid you for this.’”
How severely did Napoleon suffer on this occasion! What trials of
patience did he not undergo! And yet he was accused at the time of not
wishing for peace! “How was I perplexed,” said he, “when conversing on
this subject, to find myself the only one to judge of the extent of our
danger and to adopt means to avert it. I was harassed on the one hand by
the coalesced Powers, who threatened our very existence, and on the
other by the spirit of my own subjects, who in their blindness, seemed
to make common cause with them; by our enemies, who were labouring for
my destruction, and by the importunities of my people and even my
Ministers, who urged me to throw myself on the mercy of foreigners. And
I was obliged to keep up a bold look in this embarrassing situation: to
reply haughtily to some, and sharply to rebuff others, who created
difficulties in my rear, encouraged the mistaken course of public
opinion, instead of seeking to give it a proper direction, and suffered
me to be tormented by demands for peace, when they ought to have proved
that the only means of obtaining it was to urge me ostensibly to war.
“However, my determination was fixed. I awaited the result of events,
firmly resolved to enter into no concessions or treaties which could
present only a temporary reparation, and would inevitably have been
attended by fatal consequences. Any middle course must have been
dangerous; there was no safety except in victory, which would have
preserved my power, or in some catastrophe, which would have brought
back my allies.”
I beg to call the reader’s attention to this last idea, which I have
already noticed on a former occasion. It will perhaps be thought I
attach great importance to it; but this is because I feel the necessity
of rendering it intelligible. Though I now enter into it completely, yet
it was long before I understood it, and it appeared to me paradoxical
and subtle.
“In what a situation was I placed!” continued the Emperor. “I saw that
France, her destinies, her principles, depended on me alone!”—“Sire!” I
ventured to observe, “this was the opinion generally entertained; and
yet some parties reproached you for it, exclaiming, with bitterness, Why
would he connect every thing with himself personally?”—“That was a
vulgar accusation,” resumed the Emperor warmly. “My situation was not
one of my own choosing, nor did it arise out of any fault of mine; it
was produced entirely by the nature and force of circumstances—by the
conflict of two opposite orders of things. Would the individuals who
held this language, if indeed they were sincere, have preferred to go
back to the period preceding Brumaire, when our internal dissolution was
complete, foreign invasion certain, and the destruction of France
inevitable? From the moment when we decided on the concentration of
power, which could alone save us; when we determined on the unity of
doctrines and resources which rendered us a mighty nation, the destinies
of France depended solely on the character, the measures, and the
principles of him whom she had invested with this accidental
dictatorship: from that moment the public welfare, _the State_, _was
myself_. These words, which I addressed to men who were capable of
understanding them, were strongly censured by the narrow-minded and
ill-disposed; but the enemy felt the full force of them, and, therefore,
his first object was to effect my overthrow. The same outcry was raised
against other words which I uttered in the sincerity of my heart: when I
said that _France had more need of me than I of her_. This profound
truth was declared to be merely excess of vanity. But, my dear Las
Cases, you now see that I can relinquish every thing; and as to what I
endure here, my sufferings cannot be long. My life is limited; but the
existence of France...!” Then, resuming his former idea, he said: “The
circumstances in which we were placed were extraordinary and
unprecedented; it would be vain to seek for any parallel to them. I was
myself the keystone of an edifice totally new, and raised on a slight
foundation! Its stability depended on each of my battles! Had I been
conquered at Marengo, France would have encountered all the disasters of
1814 and 1815, without those prodigies of glory which succeeded, and
which will be immortal. It was the same at Austerlitz and Jena, and
again at Eylau and elsewhere. The vulgar failed not to blame my ambition
as the cause of all these wars. But they were not of my choosing; they
were produced by the nature and force of events; they arose out of that
conflict between the past and the future—that constant and permanent
coalition of our enemies, which obliged us to subdue under pain of being
subdued.”
But to return to the negotiations of 1813. On a reference to the
documents and manifestoes published at the time by the two parties,
whether because we can now peruse them with more impartiality, or
because our eyes have been opened by the conduct of those who triumphed,
it is impossible to avoid feeling astonished at the two-fold error which
led the Germans to rise so furiously against him from whose yoke they
pretended to free themselves, and in favour of those whom they expected
to become their regenerators!
_Renewal of Hostilities—Battle of Dresden—26th and 27th of August._—“The
hostile powers again presented themselves on the field of battle. The
French, with a force of 300,000, of which 40,000 were cavalry, occupied
the heart of Saxony, on the left bank of the Elbe; and the Allies, with
500,000 men, of whom 100,000 were cavalry, threatened them in three
different directions, from Berlin, Silesia, and Bohemia, on Dresden.
This prodigious disproportion of numbers had no effect on Napoleon: he
concentrated his forces, and boldly assumed the offensive. Having
fortified the line of the Elbe, which had now become his _point
d’appui_, and, protecting his extreme right by the mountains of Bohemia,
he directed one of his masses on Berlin against Bernadotte, who
commanded an army of Prussians and Swedes, while another marched upon
Silesia, against Blucher, who commanded a corps composed of Prussians
and Russians, and a third was stationed at Dresden, as the key of the
position, to observe the great Austrian and Russian army in Bohemia.
Finally, a fourth mass was placed as a reserve, at Zittau, with the
threefold object:—1st, to penetrate into Bohemia, in case we should gain
advantages over Blucher; 2d, to keep the great body of the allied force
confined in Bohemia, through the fear of being attacked on their rear,
should they attempt to debouch by the banks of the Elbe; 3d, to assist,
if necessary, in assailing Blucher, or in the defence of Dresden; in
case that city should be attacked.
“The Emperor, who had already made a rapid movement against Blucher,
kept him in action before him, when he was suddenly called away for the
defence of Dresden, where 65,000 French troops found themselves opposed
to 180,000 of the allied forces. Prince Schwartzenberg, the
General-in-chief, had on the 26th made a faint attack upon Dresden,
instead of making a precipitate and decided assault; which, it was
affirmed, was the intention of the deserter Jomini, who so well
understood the real state of things. Napoleon came up with the rapidity
of lightning and he combined a force of 100,000 French troops to oppose
the 180,000 Allies. The affair was not for a moment doubtful; and to his
sagacity and penetration the whole success must be attributed. The enemy
was overwhelmed: he lost 40,000 men, and was for some time threatened
with total destruction. The Emperor Alexander was present at the battle,
and Moreau was killed by one of the first balls fired by our imperial
guard, only a short time after he had spoken with the Russian
Emperor.[16]
Footnote 16:
The death of the celebrated Moreau, while fighting under the Russian
banner, and opposed to a French army, was and will ever continue to be
a source of affliction to his sincerest friends and warmest partizans.
The happy chance, so anxiously looked for by Napoleon, which was
expected to re-establish our affairs, to procure peace, and to save
France, had at length arrived. Accordingly, on the ensuing day, Austria
despatched an agent to the Emperor with amicable propositions. But such
is the uncertainty of human destiny! From that moment, by an unexampled
fatality, Napoleon had to encounter a chain of disasters. At every
point, except that at which he was himself present, we sustained
reverses. Our army in Silesia lost 25,000 men in opposing Blucher; the
force which attacked Berlin was defeated by the Prince of Sweden with
great loss; and finally, nearly the whole of Vandamme’s corps, which,
after the victory of Dresden, was sent into Bohemia with the view of
assailing the enemy’s rear and accomplishing his destruction, being
abandoned to itself and to the temerity of its chief, was cut in pieces
by that part of the Allied army which was precipitately falling back.
This fatal disaster and the safety of the Austrians, were owing to a
sudden indisposition of Napoleon’s, who, at the moment, was supposed to
have been poisoned. His presence no longer excited the ardour of the
different corps in maintaining the pursuit; indecision and dejection
ensued; Vandamme’s force was destroyed, and all the fruit of the
splendid victory of Dresden was lost!
After these repeated checks, the spell was broken; the spirit of the
French troops became depressed, while that of the Allies was the more
highly excited. The hostile forces were now to be estimated only by
their numerical value; and a catastrophe seemed to be at hand. Napoleon,
in despair, made vain efforts; he hastened to every threatened point,
and was immediately called away by some new disaster. Wherever he
appeared, the Allies retreated before him; and they advanced again as
soon as his back was turned. Meanwhile, all the enemy’s masses were
constantly gaining ground; they had effected communications with each
other, and they now formed a semicircle, which was gradually closing
round the French, who were driven back upon the Elbe, and threatened
completely to surround them. On the other hand, our rear, which was
uncovered, was assailed by detached parties. The kingdom of Westphalia
was in open insurrection; our convoys were intercepted, and we could no
longer maintain free communications with France.
It was in this state of things that the negotiators of Prague submitted
to the Emperor the result of their new conferences. In addition to
numerous restitutions required from Napoleon and his allies, two
propositions were made: 1st, the surrender of all the influence and
acquisitions of France in Italy; 2nd, the resignation of the French
influence and acquisitions in Germany. Napoleon was to take his choice
of one of these two divisions of power; but the other was to be
consigned to the Allies, to be entirely at their disposal, without any
interference on his part. Neither friends nor enemies entertained a
doubt that Napoleon would eagerly accept these proposals. “For,” said
those about him, “if you choose Italy, you remain at the gates of
Vienna, and the Allies will soon dispute among themselves respecting the
division of Germany. If, on the contrary, you prefer the surrender of
Italy, you will thereby secure the friendship of Austria, to whose share
it will fall, and you will remain in the heart of Germany. In either
case you will soon re-appear in the character of a mediator, or a
ruler.” Napoleon, however, was not of this opinion: he rejected the
propositions, and persisted in following up his own ideas.
Certainly, said he to himself, such proposals in themselves, and in the
natural course of things, are most acceptable; but where is the
guarantee of their sincerity? He saw plainly that the Allies were only
endeavouring to lure him into the snare. They determined thenceforth to
abide neither by faith nor law. They did not conceive themselves bound
by any law of nations, or any rule of integrity in their conduct towards
us. In opposition to the suggestions of his counsellors, Napoleon said;
“If I relinquish Germany, Austria will but contend the more
perseveringly until she obtains Italy. If, on the other hand, I
surrender Italy to her, she will, in order to secure the possession of
it, endeavour to expel me from Germany. Thus, one concession granted
will only serve as an inducement for seeking or enforcing new ones. The
first stone of the edifice being removed, the downfall of the whole will
inevitably ensue. I shall be urged on from one concession to another,
until I am driven back to the Tuileries, whence the French people,
enraged at my weakness, and blaming me for their disasters, will
doubtless banish me, and perhaps justly, though they may themselves
immediately become the prey of foreigners.”
May not this be regarded as a literal prediction of the events which
succeeded the insidious declaration of Frankfort, the propositions of
Chatillon, &c.?
“It would be a thousand times better to perish in battle amidst the fury
of the enemy’s triumph,” continued the Emperor; “for even defeats leave
behind them the respect due to adversity, when they are attended by
magnanimous perseverance. I therefore prefer to give battle; for, if I
should be conquered, we still have with us the true political interests
of the majority of our enemies. But, if I should be victorious, I may
save all. I have still chances in my favour—I am far from despairing.”
_Intended movement on Berlin._—“In this state of things, the King of
Bavaria, the chief of the Confederation of the Rhine, wrote to the
Emperor, assuring him, confidentially, that he would continue his
alliance for six weeks longer. “This was long enough,” said Napoleon,
“to render it very probable that he would no longer find it necessary to
abandon us.” He determined immediately to attempt a great movement,
which he had long contemplated, and which plainly indicates the
resources of his enterprising mind. Pressed upon the Elbe, the right
bank of which was already lined by the great mass of the Allied force,
and nearly turned on his rear, he conceived the bold idea of changing
positions with the enemy, place for place; to penetrate the enemy’s
line, to form in his rear, and compel him to pass in his turn, with his
whole force, to the left bank of the river. If, in this situation, he
abandoned his communications with France, he would have in his rear the
enemy’s territory, a tract of country not yet ravaged by war, and which
was capable of maintaining his troops, Berlin, Brandenburg, and
Mecklenburg, he would recover his fortresses, with their immense
garrisons, the separation and the loss of which would be a great fault
after a reverse of fortune, and would be regarded as resources of genius
in case of triumph. Napoleon now looked forward to new combinations, and
a new prospect of future success: he beheld before him only the errors,
the astonishment, and the stupor of his enemies, and the brilliancy of
his own enterprise and his hopes.
_Battles of Leipsic_, (16th, 18th, and 19th Oct.)—“At first fortune
seemed to smile on the Emperor. But soon a letter from the King of
Würtemberg informed him that the Bavarian army, seduced by the intrigues
and the prevailing spirit of the moment, had joined the Austrians,
against whom it was intended to be opposed; that it was marching on the
Rhine to cut off the communication with France; and that the King of
Würtemburg was himself under the necessity of yielding to circumstances.
This unexpected event obliged Napoleon to suspend his preparations, and
to fall back, in order to secure his retreat. This complication of false
movements proved servicable to the Allies, who pressed and surrounded
us: a great battle seemed inevitable. Napoleon assembled his forces in
the plains of Leipsic. His army consisted of 157,000 men, and six
hundred pieces of artillery; but the Allies possessed 1000 pieces of
artillery, and 350,000 men. During the first day, the action was
furiously maintained: The French remained triumphant and the victory
would have been decisive, if one of the corps stationed at Dresden had
taken part in the battle, as the Emperor hoped it would. General Merfeld
was taken prisoner, but liberated on parole, with an intimation that the
Emperor was at length willing to renounce Germany. But the Allies, who
were encouraged by the arrival of an immense reinforcement, resumed the
engagement on the following day; and they were now so numerous that,
when their troops were exhausted, they were regularly relieved by fresh
corps, as on the parade. The most inconceivable fatality was now
combined with inequality of numbers; the most infamous treachery
unexpectedly broke out in our ranks; the Saxons, our allies, deserted
us, went over to the enemy, and turned their artillery against us.
Still, however, the presence of mind, energy, and skill of the French
general, together with the courage of our troops, made amends for all,
and we again remained masters of the field.
“These two terrible engagements, which history will record as battles of
giants, had cost the enemy 150,000 of his best troops, 50,000 of whom
lay dead on the field of battle. Our loss amounted to 50,000 only. Thus
the difference between our forces was considerably diminished: and a
third engagement presented itself, with changes much more favourable.
But our ammunition was exhausted; our parks contained no more than
16,000 charges; we had fired 220,000 during the two preceding days. We
were compelled to make arrangements for our retreat, which commenced
during the night, on Leipsic. At day-break the Allies assailed us; they
entered Leipsic along with us, and an engagement commenced in the
streets of the city. Our rear-guard was defending itself valiantly and
without sustaining great loss, when a fatal occurrence ruined all: the
only bridge across the Elster, by which our retreat could be effected,
was, by some accident or misunderstanding, blown up. Thus all our forces
on the Leipsic bank of the river were lost, and all on the opposite bank
marched in haste and disorder upon Mentz. At Hanau we were compelled to
force a passage through 50,000 Bavarian troops. Only the wrecks of our
army returned to France; and, to render the misfortune complete, they
brought contagion along with them.”
Such was the fatal campaign of Saxony, our last national effort, the
tomb of our gigantic power. Opposed to the united efforts of all the
forces of Europe, and in spite of all the chances that were accumulated
against us, the genius of a single man had, in the course of this
campaign, been four times on the point of restoring our ascendancy, and
cementing it by peace: after the victories of Lützen and Bautzen, after
the battle of Dresden, at the time of the last movement on Berlin, and
finally on the plains of Leipsic.
Napoleon failed only by a complication of fatalities and perfidies, of
which history furnishes no example. I here note down only those which
occur to me on a retrospective view of the events of this period.