VITTORIA AND THE ARMISTICE
It would be beyond the scope of this work to describe in detail the
campaign that culminated at Vittoria. Our task must be limited to
showing what was the position of affairs at the close of 1812, what
were the Emperor's plans for holding part, at least, of Spain, and why
they ended in utter failure.
The causes, which had all along weakened the French operations in
Spain, operated in full force during the campaign of 1812. The
jealousy of the Marshals, and, still more, their insubordination to
King Joseph, prevented that timely concentration of force by which the
Emperor won his greatest triumphs. Discordant aims and grudging
co-operation marked their operations. Military writers have often been
puzzled to account for the rash moves of Marmont, which brought on him
the crushing blow of Salamanca. Had he waited but a few days before
pressing Wellington hard, he would have been reinforced by King Joseph
with 14,000 men.[307] But he preferred to risk all on a last dashing
move rather than to wait for the King and contribute, as second in
command, to securing a substantial success.
The correspondence of Joseph before and after Salamanca is
instructive. We see him unable to move quickly to the support of
Marmont, because the French Army of the North neglects to send him the
detachment needed for the defence of Madrid; and when, on hearing the
news of Salamanca, he orders Soult to evacuate Andalusia so as to
concentrate forces for the recovery of the capital, his command is for
some time disobeyed. When, at last, Joseph, Soult, and Suchet
concentrate their forces for a march on Madrid, Wellington is
compelled to retire. Pushing on his rear with superior forces, Joseph
then seeks to press on a battle; but again Soult moves so slowly that
Wellington is able to draw off his men and make good his retreat to
Ciudad Rodrigo.[308]
Apparently Joseph came off victor from the campaign of 1812; but the
withdrawal of French troops towards Madrid and the valley of the Douro
had fatal consequences. The south was at once lost to the French; and
the sturdy mountaineers of Biscay, Navarre, and Arragon formed large
bands whose persistent daring showed that the north was far from
conquered. Encouraged by the presence of a small British force, they
seized on most of the northern ports; and their chief, Mina, was able
to meet the French northern army on almost equal terms. In the east,
Suchet held his own against the Spaniards and an Anglo-Sicilian
expedition. But in regard to the rest of Spain, Soult's gloomy
prophecy was fulfilled: "The loss of Andalusia and the raising of the
siege of Cadiz are events whose results will be felt throughout the
whole of Europe."
The Spanish Cortes, or Parliament, long cooped up in Cadiz, now sought
to put in force the recently devised democratic constitution. It was
hailed with joy by advanced thinkers in the cities, and with loathing
by the clergy, the nobles, the wealthy, and the peasants. But, though
the Cortes sowed the seeds of political discord, they took one very
commendable step. They appointed Wellington generalissimo of all the
Spanish armies; and, in a visit which he paid to the Cortes at
Christmastide, he prepared for a real co-operation of Spanish forces
in the next campaign.
At that time Napoleon was uneasily looking into the state of Spanish
affairs. As soon as he mastered the contents of the despatches from
Madrid he counselled a course of action that promised, at any rate, to
postpone the overthrow of his power. The advice is set forth in
letters written on January 4th and February 12th by the Minister of
War, General Clarke; for Napoleon had practically ceased to correspond
with his brother. In the latter of these despatches Clarke explained
in some detail the urgent need of acting at once, while the English
were inactive, so as to stamp out the ever-spreading flame of revolt
in the northern provinces. Two French armies, that of the North and
the so-called "Army of Portugal," were to be told off for this duty;
and Joseph was informed that his armies of the south and of the centre
would for the present suffice to hold the British in check. As to
Joseph's general course of action, it was thus prescribed:
"The Emperor commands me to reiterate to your Majesty that the use
of Valladolid as a residence and as headquarters is an
indispensable preliminary. From that place must be sent out on the
Burgos road, and on other fit points, the troops which are to
strengthen or to second the army of the north. Madrid, and even
Valencia, form parts of this system only as posts to be held by
your extreme left, not as places to be kept by a concentration of
forces.... To occupy Valladolid and Salamanca, to use the utmost
exertion to pacify Navarre and Arragon to keep the communication
with France rapid and safe, to be always ready to take the
offensive--these are the Emperor's instructions for the campaign,
and the principles on which all its operations ought to be
founded...."[309]
A fortnight later, Clarke bade the King threaten Ciudad Rodrigo so as
to make Wellington believe that the French would invade Portugal. He
was also to lay heavy contributions on Madrid and Toledo. In fact, the
capital was to be held only as long as it could be squeezed.
Such were the plans. They show clearly that the Emperor was impressed
with the need of crushing the rising in the north of Spain; for he
ordered as great a force against Mina and his troublesome bands as he
deemed necessary to watch the Portuguese frontier. Clausel was charged
to stamp out the northern rising, and Napoleon seems to have judged
that this hardy fighter would end this tedious task before Wellington
dealt any serious blows. The miscalculation was to be fatal. Mina was
not speedily to be beaten, nor was the British general the slow
unenterprising leader that the Emperor took him to be. And then again,
in spite of all the experiences of the past, Napoleon failed to allow
for the delays caused by the capture of his couriers, or by their long
detours. Yet, never were these more serious. Clarke's first urgent
despatch, that of January 4th, did not reach the King until February
16th.[310] When its directions were being doubtfully obeyed, those
quoted above arrived on March 12th, and led to changes in the
disposition of the troops. Thus the forces opposed to Wellington were
weakened in order to crush the northern revolt, and yet these
detachments were only sent north at the close of March for a difficult
enterprise which was not to be completed before the British leader
threw his sword decisively into the scales of war.
Joseph has been severely blamed for his tardy action: but, in truth,
he was in a hopeless _impasse_: on all sides he saw the walls of his
royal prison house closing in. The rebels in the north cut off the
French despatches, thus forestalling his movements and delaying by
some weeks his execution of Napoleon's plans. Worst of all, the
Emperor withdrew the pith and marrow of his forces: 1,200 officers,
6,000 non-commissioned officers, and some 24,000 of the most seasoned
soldiers filed away towards France to put strength and firmness into
the new levies of the line, or to fill out again the skeleton
battalions and squadrons of the Imperial Guard.[311]
It is strange that Napoleon did not withdraw all his troops from
Spain. They still exceeded 150,000 men; and yet, after he had flung
away army after army, the Spaniards were everywhere in arms, except in
Valencia. The north defied all the efforts of Clausel for several
weeks, until he declared that it would take 50,000 men three months to
crush the mountaineers.[312] Above all, Wellington was known to be
mustering a formidable force on the Portuguese borders. In truth,
Napoleon seems long to have been afflicted with political colour
blindness in Spanish affairs. Even now he only dimly saw the
ridiculous falsity of his brother's position--a parvenu among the
proudest nobility in the world, a bankrupt King called upon to keep up
regal pomp before a ceremonious race, a benevolent ruler forced to
levy heavy loans and contributions on a sensitive populace whose
goodwill he earnestly strove to gain, an easy-going epicure spurred on
to impetuous action by orders from Paris which he dared not disregard
and could not execute, a peace-loving valetudinarian upon whom was
thrust the task of controlling testy French Marshals, and of holding a
nation in check and Wellington at bay.
The concentration on which Napoleon laid such stress would doubtless
have proved a most effective step had the French forces on the Douro
been marshalled by an able leader. But here, again, the situation had
been fatally compromised by the recall of the ablest of the French
commanders in Spain. Wellington afterwards said that Soult was second
only to Masséna among the French Marshals pitted against him. He had
some defects. "He did not quite understand a field of battle: he was
an excellent tactician, knew very well how to bring his troops up to
the field, but not so well how to use them when he had brought them
up."[313] But the fact remains that, with the exception of his Oporto
failure, Soult came with credit, if not glory, out of every campaign
waged against Wellington. Yet he was now recalled.
Indeed, this vain and ambitious man had mortally offended King Joseph.
After Salamanca he had treated him with gross disrespect. Not only did
he, at first, refuse to move from Andalusia, but he secretly revealed
to six French generals his fears that Joseph was betraying the French
cause by treating with the Spanish national government at Cadiz. He
even warned Clarke of the King's supposed intentions, in a letter
which by chance fell into Joseph's hands.[314] The hot blood of the
Bonapartes boiled at this underhand dealing, and he at once despatched
Colonel Desprez to Napoleon to demand Soult's instant recall. The
Emperor, who was then at Moscow, temporized. Perhaps he was not sorry
to have in Spain so vigilant an informer; and he made the guarded
reply that Soult's suspicions did not much surprise him, that they
were shared by many other French generals, who thought King Joseph
preferred Spain to France, and that he could not recall Soult, as he
had "the only military head in Spain." The threatening war-cloud in
Central Europe led Napoleon to change his resolve. Soult was recalled,
but not disgraced, and, after the death of Bessières, he received the
command of the Imperial Guard.
The commander who now bore the brunt of responsibility was Jourdan,
who acted as major-general at the King's side, a post which he had
held once before, but had forfeited owing to his blunders in the
summer of 1809. The victor of Fleurus was now fifty-one years of age,
and his failing health quite unfitted him for the Herculean tasks of
guiding refractory generals, and of propping up a tottering monarchy.
For Jourdan's talents Napoleon had expressed but scanty esteem,
whereas on many occasions he extolled the abilities of Suchet, who was
now holding down Valencia and Catalonia. Certainly Suchet's tenacity
and administrative skill rendered his stay in those rich provinces
highly desirable. But the best talent was surely needed on
Wellington's line of advance, namely, at Valladolid. To the
shortcomings and mishaps of Joseph and Jourdan in that quarter may be
chiefly ascribed the collapse of the French power.
In fact, the only part of Spain that now really interested Napoleon
was the north and north-east. So long as he firmly held the provinces
north of the Ebro, he seems to have cared little whether Joseph
reigned, or did not reign, at Madrid. All that concerned him was to
hold the British at bay from the line of the Douro, while French
authority was established in the north and north-east. This he was
determined to keep; and probably he had already formed the design,
later on to be mooted to Ferdinand VII. at Valençay, of restoring him
to the throne of Spain and of indemnifying him with Portugal for the
loss of the north-eastern provinces. This scheme may even have formed
part of a plan of general pacification; for at Dresden, on May 17th,
he proposed to Austria the admission of representatives of the Spanish
_insurgents_ to the European Congress. But it is time to turn from the
haze of conjecture to the sharp outlines of Wellington's
campaign.[315]
While the French cause in Spain was crumbling to pieces, that of the
patriots was being firmly welded together by the organizing genius of
Wellington. By patient efforts, he soon had the Spanish and Portuguese
contingents in an efficient condition: and, as large reinforcements
had come from England, he was able early in May to muster 70,000
British and Portuguese troops and 30,000 Spaniards for a move
eastwards. Murray's force tied Suchet fast to the province of
Valencia; Clausel was fully employed in Navarre, and thus Joseph's
army on the Douro was left far too weak to stem Wellington's tide of
war. Only some 45,000 French were ready in the districts between
Salamanca and Valladolid. Others remained in the basin of the Tagus in
case the allies should burst in by that route.
Wellington kept up their illusions by feints at several points, while
he prepared to thrust a mighty force over the fords of the Tormes and
Esla. He completely succeeded. While Joseph and Jourdan were haltingly
mustering their forces in Leon, the allies began that series of rapid
flanking movements on the north which decided the campaign. Swinging
forward his powerful left wing he manoeuvred the French out of one
strong position after another. The Tormes, the Esla, the Douro, the
Carrion, the Pisuerga, none of these streams stopped his advance.
Joseph nowhere showed fight; he abandoned even the castle of Burgos,
and, fearing to be cut off from France, retired behind the upper Ebro.
The official excuse given for this rapid retreat was the lack of
provisions: but the diaries of two British officers, Tomkinson and
Simmons, show that they found the country between the Esla and the
Ebro for the most part well stocked and fertile. Simmons, who was with
the famous Light Division, notes that the Rifles did not fire a shot
after breaking up their winter quarters, until they skirmished with
the French in the hills near the source of the Ebro. The French
retreat was really necessary in order to bring the King's forces into
touch with the corps of Generals Clausel and Foy, in Navarre and
Biscay respectively. Joseph had already sent urgent orders to call in
these corps; for, as he explained to Clarke, the supreme need now was
to beat Wellington; that done, the partisan warfare would collapse.
But Clausel and Foy took their orders, not from the King, but from
Paris; and up to June 5th, Joseph heard not a word from Clausel. At
last, on June 15th, that general wrote from Pamplona that he had
received Joseph's commands of May 30th and June 7th, and would march
to join him. Had he at once called in his mobile columns and covered
with all haste the fifty miles that separated him from the King, the
French army would have been the stronger by at least 14,000 men. But
his concentration was a work of some difficulty, and he finally drew
near to Vittoria on June 22nd, when the French cause was irrecoverably
lost.[316]
Wellington, meanwhile, had foreseen the supreme need of despatch.
Early in the year he had urged our naval authorities to strengthen our
squadron on the north of Spain, so that he might in due course make
Santander his base of supplies. Naval support was not forthcoming to
the extent that he expected;[317] but after leaving Burgos he was able
to make some use of the northern ports, thereby shortening his line of
communications. In fact, the Vittoria campaign illustrates the immense
advantages gained by a leader, who is sure of his rear and of one
flank, over an enemy who is ever nervous about his communications. The
British squadron acted like a covering force on the north to
Wellington: it fed the guerilla warfare in Biscay, and menaced Joseph
with real though invisible dangers. This explains, in large measure,
why our commander moved forward so rapidly, and pushed forward his
left wing with such persistent daring. Mountain fastnesses and roaring
torrents stayed not the advance of his light troops on that side. Near
the sources of the Ebro, the French again felt their communications
with France threatened, and falling back from the main stream, up the
defile carved out by a tributary, the Zadora, they halted wearily in
the basin of Vittoria.
There Joseph and Jourdan determined to fight. As usual, there had been
recriminations at headquarters. "Jourdan, ill and angry, kept his
room; and the King was equally invisible."[318] Few orders were given.
The town was packed with convoys and vehicles of all kinds, and it was
not till dawn of that fatal midsummer's day that the last convoy set
out for France, under the escort of 3,000 troops. Nevertheless, Joseph
might hope to hold his own. True, he had but 70,000 troops at hand, or
perhaps even fewer; yet on the evening of the 19th he heard that
Clausel had set out from Pamplona.
At once he bade him press on his march, but that message fell into the
enemy's hands.[319] Relying, then, on help which was not to arrive,
Joseph confronted the allied army. It numbered, in all, 83,000 men,
though Napier asserts that not more than 60,000 took part in the
fighting. The French left wing rested on steep hills near Puebla,
which tower above the River Zadora, and leave but a narrow defile.
Their centre held a less precipitous ridge, which trends away to the
north parallel to the middle reaches of that stream. Higher up its
course, the Zadora describes a sharp curve that protects the ridge on
its northern flank; and if a daring foe drove the defenders away from
these heights, they could still fall back on two lower ridges nearer
Vittoria. But these natural advantages were not utilized to the full.
The bridges opposite the French front were not broken, and the
defenders were far too widely spread out. Their right wing, consisting
of the "Army of Portugal" under General Reille, guarded the bridge
north of Vittoria, and was thus quite out of touch with the main force
that held the hills five miles away to the west.
The dawn broke heavily; the air was thick with rain and driving mists,
under cover of which Hill's command moved up against the steeps of
Puebla. A Spanish brigade, under General Morillo, nimbly scaled those
slopes on the south-west, gained a footing near the summit, and, when
reinforced, firmly held their ground. Meanwhile the rest of Hill's
troops threaded their way beneath through the pass of Puebla, and,
after a tough fight, wrested the village of Subijana from the foe. In
vain did Joseph and Jourdan bring up troops from the centre; the
British and Spaniards were not to be driven either from the village or
from the heights. Wellington's main array was also advancing to attack
the French centre occupying the ridge behind the Zadora; and Graham,
after making a long détour to the north through very broken country,
sought to surprise Reille and drive him from the bridge north of
Vittoria. In this advance the guidance of the Spanish irregulars,
under Colonel Longa, was of priceless value. So well was Graham
covered by their bands, that, up to the moment of attack, Reille knew
not that a British division was also at hand. At the centre, too, a
Spanish peasant informed Wellington that the chief bridge of Tres
Puentes was unguarded, and guided Kempt's brigade through rocky ground
to within easy charging distance.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF VITTORIA]
The bridge was seized, Joseph's outposts were completely turned, and
time was given for the muster of Picton's men. Stoutly they breasted
the slopes, and unsteadied the weakened French centre, which was also
assailed on its northern flank. At the same time Joseph's left wing
began to waver under Hill's repeated onslaughts; and, distracted by
the distant cannonade, which told of a stubborn fight between Graham
and Reille, the King now began to draw in his lines towards Vittoria.
For a time the French firmly held the village of Arinez, but Picton's
men were not to be denied. They burst through the rearguard, and the
battle now became a running fight, extending over some five miles of
broken country. At the last slopes, close to Vittoria, the defenders
made a last heroic stand, and their artillery dealt havoc among the
assailants; but our fourth division, rushing forward into the smoke,
carried a hill that commanded their left, and the day was won. Nothing
now remained for the French but a speedy retreat, while the gallant
Reille could still hold Graham's superior force at bay.
There, too, the fight at last swirled back, albeit with many a
rallying eddy, into Vittoria. That town was no place of refuge, but a
death-trap; for Graham had pushed on a detachment to Durana, on the
high-road leading direct to France, and thus blocked the main line of
retreat. Joseph's army was now in pitiable plight. Pent up in the
choked streets of Vittoria, torn by cannon-shot from the English
lines, the wreckage of its three armies for a time surged helplessly
to and fro, and then broke away eastwards towards Pamplona. On that
side only was safety to be found, for British hussars scoured the
plain to the north-east, lending wings to the flight. The narrow
causeway, leading through marshes, was soon blocked, and panic seized
on all: artillerymen cut their traces and fled; carriages crowded with
women, once called gay, but now frantic with terror, wagons laden with
ammunition, stores, treasure-chests, and the booty amassed by generals
and favourites during five years of warfare and extortion, all were
left pell-mell. Jourdan's Marshal's baton was taken, and was sent by
Wellington to the Prince Regent, who acknowledged it by conferring on
the victor the title of Field-Marshal.
Richly was the title deserved. After four years of battling with
superior numbers, the British leader at last revealed the full majesty
of his powers now that the omens were favourable. In six weeks he
marched more than five hundred miles, crossed six rivers, and, using
the Navarrese revolt as the anvil, dealt the hammer-stroke of
Vittoria. It cost Napoleon 151 pieces of cannon, nearly all the stores
piled up for his Peninsular campaigns--and Spain itself.[320]
As for Joseph, he left his carriage and fled on horseback towards
France, reaching St. Jean de Luz "with only a napoleon left." He there
also assured his queen that he had always preferred a private station
to the grandeur and agitations of public life.[321] This, indeed, was
one of the many weak points of his brother's Spanish policy. It rested
on the shoulders of an amiable man who was better suited to the ease
of Naples than to the Herculean toils of Madrid. Napoleon now saw the
magnitude of his error. On July 1st he bade Soult leave Dresden at
once for Paris. There he was to call on Clarke, with him repair to
Cambacérès; and, as Lieutenant-General, take steps to re-establish the
Emperor's affairs in Spain. A Regency was to govern in place of
Joseph, who was ordered to remain, according to the state of affairs,
either at Burgos(!) or St. Sebastian or Bayonne.
"All the follies in Spain" (he wrote to Cambacérès on that day)
"are due to the mistaken consideration I have shown the King, who
not only does not know how to command, but does not even know his
own value enough to leave the military command alone."
And to Savary he wrote two days later:
"It is hard to imagine anything so inconceivable as what is now
going on in Spain. The King could have collected 100,000 picked
men: _they might have beaten the whole of England_."
Reflection, however, showed him that the fault was his own; that if,
as had occurred to him when he left Paris, he had intrusted the
supreme command in Spain to Soult, the disaster would never have
happened.[322] His belief in Soult's capacity was justified by the
last events of the Peninsular War. But neither his splendid rally of
the scattered French forces, nor the skilful movements of Clausel and
Suchet, nor the stubborn defence of Pamplona and San Sebastian, could
now save the French cause. The sole result of these last operations
was to restore the lustre of the French arms and to keep 150,000 men
in Spain when the scales of war were wavering in the plains of Saxony.
Napoleon's letters betray the agitation which he felt even at the
first vague rumours of the disaster of Vittoria. On the first three
days of July he penned at Dresden seven despatches on that topic in a
style so vehement that the compilers of the "Correspondance de
Napoléon" have thought it best to omit them. He further enjoined the
utmost reserve, and ordered the official journals merely to state
that, after a brisk engagement at Vittoria, the French army was
concentrating in Arragon, and that the British had captured about a
hundred guns and wagons left behind in the town for lack of horses.
There was every reason for hiding the truth. He saw how seriously it
must weaken his chances of browbeating the Eastern Powers, and of
punishing Austria for her armed mediation. Hitherto there seemed every
chance of his succeeding. The French standards flew on all the
fortresses of the Elbe and Oder. Hamburg was fast becoming a great
French camp, and Denmark was ranged on the side of France.
Indeed, on reviewing the situation on June 4th, the German publicist,
Gentz, came to the conclusion that the Emperor Francis would probably
end his vacillations by some inglorious compromise. The Kaiser desired
peace; but he also wished to shake off the irksome tutelage of his
son-in-law, and regain Illyria. For the present he wavered. Before the
news of Lützen reached him, he undoubtedly encouraged the allies: but
that reverse brought about a half left turn towards Napoleon. "Boney's
success at Lützen," wrote Sir G. Jackson in his Diary, "has made
Francis reconsider his half-formed resolutions." Here was the chief
difficulty for the allies. Their fortunes, and the future of Europe,
rested largely on the decision of a man whose natural irresolution of
character had been increased by adversity. Fortunately, the news from
Spain finally helped to incline him towards war; but for some weeks
his decision remained the unknown quantity in European politics.
Fortunately, too, he was amenable to the gentle but determining
pressure of the kind which Metternich could so skilfully exert. That
statesman, as usual, schemed and balanced. He saw that Austria had
much to gain by playing the waiting game. Her forces were improving
both in numbers and efficiency, and under cover of her offer of armed
mediation were holding strong positions in Bohemia. In fact, she was
regaining her prestige, and might hope to impose her will on the
combatants at the forthcoming European Congress at Prague. Metternich,
therefore, continued to pose as the well-wisher of both parties and
the champion of a reasonable and therefore durable compromise.
He had acted thus, not only in his choice of measures, but in his
selection of men. He had sent to Napoleon's headquarters at Dresden
Count Bubna, whose sincere and resolute striving for peace served to
lull animosity and suspicions in that place. But to the allied
headquarters, now at Reichenbach, he had despatched Count Stadion, who
worked no less earnestly for war. While therefore the Courts of St.
Petersburg, Berlin, and London hoped, from Stadion's language, that
Austria meant to draw the sword, Napoleon inclined to the belief that
she would never do more than rattle her scabbard, and would finally
yield to his demands.
Stadion's letters to Metternich show that he feared this result. He
pressed him to end the seesaw policy of the last six months. "These
people are beaten owing to our faults, our half wishes, our half
measures, and presently they will get out of the scrape and leave us
to pay the price." As for Austria's forthcoming demand of Illyria, who
would guarantee that the French Emperor would let her keep it six
months, if he remained master of Germany and Italy? Only by a close
union with the allies could she be screened from Napoleon's vengeance,
which must otherwise lead to her utter destruction. Let, then, all
timid counsellors be removed from the side of the Emperor Francis. "I
cling to my oft-expressed conviction that we are no longer masters of
our own affairs, and that the tide of events will carry us
along."[323] If we may judge from Metternich's statements in his
"Memoirs," written many years later, he was all along in secret
sympathy with these views. But his actions and his official despatches
during the first six weeks of the armistice bore another complexion;
they were almost colourless, or rather, they were chameleonic. At
Dresden they seemed, on the whole, to be favourable to France: at
Reichenbach, when coloured by Stadion, they were thought to hold out
the prospect of another European coalition.
A new and important development was given to Austrian policy when, on
June 7th, Metternich drew up the conditions on which Austria would
insist as the basis of her armed mediation. They were as follows: (1)
Dissolution of the Duchy of Warsaw; (2) A consequent reconstruction of
Prussia, with the certainty of recovering Danzig; (3) Restitution of
the Illyrian provinces, including Dalmatia, to Austria; (4)
Re-establishment of the Hanse Towns, and an eventual arrangement as to
the cession of the other parts of the 32nd military division [the part
of North Germany annexed by Napoleon in 1810]. To these were added two
other conditions on which Austria would lay great stress, namely: (5)
Dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; (6) Reconstruction of
Prussia conformably with her territorial extent previous to 1805.
At first sight these terms seem favourable to the allied cause; but
they were much less extensive than the proposals submitted by
Alexander in the middle of May. Therefore, when they were set forth to
the allies at Reichenbach, they were unfavourably received, and for
some days suspicion of Austria overclouded the previous goodwill. It
was removed only by the labours of Stadion and by the tact which
Metternich displayed during an interview with the Czar at Opotschna
(June 17th).
Alexander came there prejudiced against Metternich as a past master in
the arts of double-dealing: he went away convinced that he meant well
for the allies. "What will become of us," asked the Czar, "if Napoleon
accepts your mediation?" To which the statesman replied: "If he
refuses it, the truce will be at an end, and you will find us in the
ranks of your allies. If he accepts it, the negotiations will prove to
a certainty that Napoleon is neither wise nor just; and the issue will
be the same." Alexander knew enough of his great enemy's character to
discern the sagacity of Metternich's forecast; and both Frederick
William and he agreed to the Austrian terms.[324] Accordingly, on June
27th, a treaty was secretly signed at Reichenbach, wherein Austria
pledged herself to an active alliance with Russia and Prussia in case
Napoleon should not, by the end of the armistice, have acceded to her
four _conditiones sine quibus non._ To these was now added a demand
for the evacuation of all Polish and Prussian fortresses by French
troops, a stipulation which it was practically certain that Napoleon
would refuse.[325]
The allies meanwhile were gaining the sinews of war from England. The
Czar had informed Cathcart at Kalisch that, though he did not press
our Government for subsidies, yet he would not be able to wage a long
campaign without such aid. On June 14th and 15th, our ambassador
signed treaties with Russia and Prussia, whereby we agreed to aid the
former by a yearly subsidy of £1,133,334, and the latter by a sum of
half that amount, and to meet all the expenses of the Russian fleet
then in our harbours. The Czar and the King of Prussia bound
themselves to maintain in the field (exclusive of garrisons) 160,000
and 80,000 men respectively.[326]
There was every reason for these preparations. Everything showed that
Napoleon was bent on browbeating the allies. On June 17th Napoleon's
troops destroyed or captured Lützow's volunteers at Kitzen near
Leipzig. The excuse for this act was that Lützow had violated the
armistice; but he had satisfied Nisas, the French officer there in
command, that he was loyally observing it. Nevertheless, his brigade
was cut to pieces. The protests of the allies received no response
except that Lützow's men might be exchanged--as if they had been
captured in fair fight. Finally, Napoleon refused to hear the
statement of Nisas in his own justification, reproached him for
casting a slur on the conduct of French troops, and deprived him of
his command.[327]
But it was Napoleon's bearing towards Metternich, in an interview held
on June 26th at the Marcolini Palace at Dresden, that most clearly
revealed the inflexibility of his policy. Ostensibly, the interview
was fixed in order to arrange the forms of the forthcoming Congress
that was to insure the world's peace. In reality, however, Napoleon
hoped to intimidate the Austrian statesman, and to gather from him the
results of his recent interview with the Czar. Carrying his sword at
his side and his hat under his arm, he received Metternich in state.
After a few studied phrases about the health of the Emperor Francis,
his brow clouded and he plunged _in medias res_: "So you too want war:
well, you shall have it. I have beaten the Russians at Bautzen: now
you wish your turn to come. Be it so, the rendezvous shall be in
Vienna. Men are incorrigible: experience is lost upon you. Three times
I have replaced the Emperor Francis on his throne. I have promised
always to live at peace with him: I have married his daughter. At the
time I said to myself--you are perpetrating a folly; but it was done,
and now I repent of it."
Metternich saw his advantage: his adversary had lost his temper and
forgotten his dignity. He calmly reminded Napoleon that peace depended
on him; that his power must be reduced within reasonable limits, or he
would fall in the ensuing struggle. No matador fluttered the cloak
more dextrously. Napoleon rushed on. No coalition should daunt him: he
could overpower any number of men--everything except the cold of
Russia--and the losses of that campaign had been made good. He then
diverged into stories about that war, varied by digressions as to his
exact knowledge of Austria's armaments, details of which were sent to
him daily. To end this wandering talk, Metternich reminded him that
his troops now were not men but boys. Whereupon the Emperor
passionately replied: "You do not know what goes on in the mind of a
soldier; a man such as I does not take much heed of the lives of a
million of men,"--and he threw aside his hat. Metternich did not pick
it up.
Napoleon noticed the unspoken defiance, and wound up by saying: "When
I married an Archduchess I tried to weld the new with the old, Gothic
prejudices with the institutions of my century: I deceived myself, and
this day I see the whole extent of my error. It may cost me my throne,
but I will bury the world beneath its ruins." In dismissing
Metternich, the Emperor used the device which, shortly before the
rupture with England in 1803, he had recommended Talleyrand to employ
upon Whitworth, namely, after trying intimidation to resort to
cajolery. Touching the Minister on the shoulder, he said quietly:
"Well, now, do you know what will happen? You will not make war on
me?" To which came the quick reply: "You are lost, Sire; I had the
presentiment of it when I came: now, in going, I have the certainty."
In the anteroom the generals crowded around the illustrious visitor.
Berthier had previously begged him to remember that Europe, and
France, urgently needed peace; and now, on conducting him to his
carriage, he asked him whether he was satisfied with Napoleon. "Yes,"
was the answer, "he has explained everything to me: it is all over
with the man."[328]
Substantially, this was the case. Napoleon's resentment against
Austria, not unnatural under the circumstances, had hurried him into
outbursts that revealed the inner fires of his passion. In a second
interview, on June 30th, he was far more gracious, and allowed Austria
to hope that she would gain Illyria. He also accepted Austria's
mediation; and it was stipulated that a Congress should meet at Prague
for the discussion of a general pacification. Metternich appeared
highly pleased with this condescension, but he knew by experience that
Napoleon's caresses were as dangerous as his wrath; and he remained on
his guard. The Emperor soon disclosed his real aim. In gracious tones
he added: "But this is not all: I must have a prolongation of the
armistice. How can we between July 5th and 20th end a negotiation
which ought to embrace the whole world?" He proposed August 20th as
the date of its expiration. To this Metternich demurred because the
allies already thought the armistice too long for their interests.
August 10th was finally agreed on, but not without much opposition on
the part of the allied generals, who insisted that such a prolongation
would greatly embarrass them.
Outwardly, this new arrangement seemed to portend peace: but it is
significant that on June 28th Napoleon wrote to Eugène that all the
probabilities appeared for war; and on June 30th he wrote his
father-in-law a cold and almost threatening letter.[329]
Late on that very evening came to hand the first report of the
disaster of Vittoria. Despite all Napoleon's precautions, the news
leaked out at Dresden. Bubna's despatches of July 5th, 6th, and 7th
soon made it known to the Emperor Francis, then at Brandeis in
Bohemia. Thence it reached the allied monarchs and Bernadotte on July
12th at Trachenberg in the midst of negotiations which will be
described presently. The effect of the news was very great. The Czar
at once ordered a Te Deum to be sung: "It is the first instance,"
wrote Cathcart, "of a Te Deum having been sung at this Court for a
victory in which the forces of the Russian Empire were not
engaged."[330] But its results were more than ceremonial: they were
practical. Our envoy, Thornton, who followed Bernadotte to
Trachenberg, states that Bubna had learnt that Wellington had
completely routed three French corps with a _débandade_ like that of
the retreat from Moscow. Thornton adds: "The Prince Royal [Bernadotte]
thinks that the French army will be very soon withdrawn from Silesia
and that Buonaparte must soon commence his retreat nearer the Rhine. I
have no doubt of its effect upon Austria. This is visible in the
answer of the Emperor [Francis] to the Prince, which came to-day from
the Austrian head-quarters." That letter, dated July 9th, was indeed
of the most cordial character. It expressed great pleasure at hearing
that "the obstacles which seemed to hinder the co-operation of the
forces under your Royal Highness are now removed. I regard this
co-operation as one of the surest supports of the cause which the
Powers may once more be called on to defend by a war which can only
offer chances of success unless sustained by the greatest and most
unanimous measures."[331] Further than this Francis could scarcely go
without pledging himself unconditionally to an alliance; and doubtless
it was the news of Vittoria that evoked these encouraging assurances.
It is even more certain that the compact of Trachenberg also helped to
end the hesitations of Austria. This compact arose out of the urgent
need of adopting a general plan of campaign, and, above all, of ending
the disputes between the allied sovereigns and Bernadotte. The Prince
Royal of Sweden had lost their confidence through his failure to save
Hamburg from the French and Danes. Yet, on his side, he had some cause
for complaint. In the previous summer, Alexander led him to expect the
active aid of 35,000 Russian troops for a campaign in Norway: but,
mainly at the instance of England, he now landed in Pomerania and left
Sweden exposed to a Danish attack on the side of Norway. He therefore
suggested an interview with the allied sovereigns, a request which was
warmly seconded by Castlereagh.[332] Accordingly it took place at
Trachenberg, a castle north of Breslau, with the happiest results. The
warmth of the great Gascon's manner cleared away all clouds, and won
the approval of Frederick William.
There was signed the famous compact, or plan, of Trachenberg (July
12th). It bound the allies to turn their main forces against
Napoleon's chief army, wherever it was: those allied corps that
threatened his flanks or communications were to act on the line that
most directly cut into them: and the salient bastion of Bohemia was
expressly named as offering the greatest advantages for attacking
Napoleon's main force. The first and third of these axioms were
directly framed so as to encourage Austria: the second aimed at
concentrating Bernadotte's force on the main struggle and preventing
his waging war merely against Denmark.
The plan went even further: 100,000 allied troops were to be sent into
Bohemia, as soon as the armistice should cease, so as to form in all
an army of 200,000 men. On the north, Bernadotte, after detaching a
corps towards Hamburg, was to advance with a Russo-Prusso-Swedish army
of 70,000 men towards the middle course of the Elbe, his objective
being Leipzig; and the rest of the allied forces, those remaining in
Silesia, were to march towards Torgau, and thus threaten Napoleon's
positions in Saxony from the East. This plan of campaign was an
immense advance on those of the earlier coalitions. There was no
reliance here on lines and camps: the days of Mack and Phull were
past: the allies had at last learnt from Napoleon the need of seeking
out the enemy's chief army, and of flinging at it all the available
forces. Politically, also, the compact deserves notice. In concerting
a plan of offensive operations from Bohemia, the allies were going far
to determine the conduct of Austria.
On that same day the peace Congress was opened at Prague. Its
proceedings were farcical from the outset. Only Anstett and Humboldt,
the Russian and Prussian envoys, were at hand; and at the appointment
of the former, an Alsatian by birth, Napoleon expressed great
annoyance. The difficulties about the armistice also gave him the
opportunity, which he undoubtedly sought, of further delaying
negotiations. In vain did Metternich point out to the French envoy,
Narbonne, at Prague, that these frivolous delays must lead to war if
matters were not amicably settled by August 10th, at midnight.[333] In
vain did Narbonne and Caulaincourt beg their master to seize this
opportunity for concluding a safe and honourable peace. It was not
till the middle of July that he appointed them his plenipotentiaries
at the Congress; and, even then, he retained the latter at Dresden,
while the former fretted in forced inaction at Prague. "I send you
more _powers_ than _power_," wrote Maret to Narbonne with cynical
jauntiness: "you will have your hands tied, but your legs and mouth
free so that you may walk about and dine."[334] At last, on the 26th,
Caulaincourt received his instructions; but what must have been the
anguish of this loyal son of France to see that Napoleon was courting
war with a united Europe. Austria, said his master, was acting as
mediator: and the mediator ought not to look for gains: she had made
no sacrifice and deserved to gain nothing at all: her claims were
limitless; and every concession granted by France would encourage her
to ask for more: he was disposed to make peace with Russia on
satisfactory terms so as to punish Austria for her bad faith in
breaking the alliance of 1812.[335]
Such trifling with the world's peace seems to belong, not to the
sphere of history, but to the sombre domain of Greek tragedy, where
mortals full blown with pride rush blindly on the embossed bucklers of
fate. For what did Austria demand of him? She proposed to leave him
master of all the lands from the swamps of the Ems down to the Roman
Campagna: Italy was to be his, along with as much of the Iberian
Peninsula as he could hold. His control of Illyria, North Germany, and
the Rhenish Confederation he must give up. But France, Belgium,
Holland, and Italy would surely form a noble realm for a man who had
lost half a million of men, and was even now losing Spain. Yet his
correspondence proves that, even so, he thought little of his foes,
and, least of all, of the Congress at Prague.
Leaving his plenipotentiaries tied down to the discussion of matters
of form, he set out from Dresden on July 24th for a visit to Mainz,
where he met the Empress and reviewed his reserves. Every item of news
fed his warlike resolve. Soult, with nearly 100,000 men, was about to
relieve Pamplona (so he wrote to Caulaincourt): the English were
retiring in confusion: 12,000 veteran horsemen from his armies in
Spain would soon be on the Rhine; but they could not be on the Elbe
before September. If the allies wanted a longer armistice, he
(Napoleon) would agree to it: if they wished to fight, he was equally
ready, even against the Austrians as well.[336]
To Davoust, at Hamburg, he expressed himself as if war was certain;
and he ordered Clarke, at Paris, to have 110,000 muskets made by the
end of the year, so that, in all, 400,000 would be ready. Letters
about the Congress are conspicuous by their absence; and everything
proves that, as he wrote to Clarke at the beginning of the armistice,
he purposed striking his great blows in September. Little by little we
see the emergence of his final plan--_to overthrow Russia and Prussia,
while, for a week or two, he amused Austria with separate overtures at
Prague_.
But, during eight years of adversity, European statesmen had learnt
that disunion spelt disaster; and it was evident that Napoleon's
delays were prompted solely by the need of equipping and training his
new cavalry brigades. As for the Congress, no one took it seriously.
Gentz, who was then in close contact with Metternich, saw how this
tragi-comedy would end. "We believe that on his return to Dresden,
Napoleon will address to this Court a solemn Note in which he will
accuse everybody of the delays which he himself has caused, and will
end up by proclaiming a sort of ultimatum. Our reply will be a
declaration of war."[337]
This was what happened. As July wore on and brought no peaceful
overtures, but rather a tightening of Napoleon's coils in Saxony,
Bavaria, and Illyria, the Emperor Francis inclined towards war.
As late as July 18th he wrote to Metternich that he was still for
peace, provided that Illyria could be gained.[338]
But the French military preparations decided him, a few days later, to
make war, unless every one of the Austrian demands should be conceded
by August 10th. His counsellors had already come to that conclusion,
as our records prove. On July 20th Stadion wrote to Cathcart urging
him to give pecuniary aid to General Nugent, who would wait on him to
concert means for rousing a revolt against Napoleon in Tyrol and North
Italy; and our envoy agreed to give £5,000 a month for the "support of
5,000 Austrians acting in communication with our squadron in the
Adriatic." This step met with Metternich's approval; and, when writing
to Stadion from Prague (July 25th), he counselled Cathcart to send a
despatch to Wellington and urge him to make a vigorous move against
the south of France. He (Metternich) would have the letter sent safely
through Switzerland and the south of France direct to our
general.[339]
With the solemn triflings of the Congress we need not concern
ourselves. The French plenipotentiaries saw clearly that their master
"would allow of no peace but that which he should himself dictate with
his foot on the enemy's neck." Yet they persevered in their thankless
task, for "who could tell whether the Emperor, when he found himself
placed between highly favourable conditions and the fear of having
200,000 additional troops against him, might not hesitate; whether
just one grain of common sense, one spark of wisdom, might not enter
his head?" Alas! That brain was now impervious to advice; and the
young De Broglie, from whom we quote this extract, sums up the opinion
of the French plenipotentiaries in the trenchant phrase, "the devil
was in him."[340]
But there was method in his madness. In the Dresden interview he had
warned Metternich that not till the eleventh hour would he disclose
his real demands. And now was the opportunity of trying the effect of
a final act of intimidation. On August 4th he was back again in
Dresden: on the next day he dictated the secret conditions on which he
would accept Austria's mediation; and, on August 6th, Caulaincourt
paid Metternich a private visit to find out what Austria's terms
really were. After a flying visit to the Emperor Francis at Brandeis,
the Minister brought back as an ultimatum the six terms drawn up on
June 7th (see p. 316); and to these he now added another which
guaranteed the existing possessions of every State, great or small.
Napoleon was taken aback by this boldness, which he attributed to the
influence of Spanish affairs and to English intrigues.[341] On August
9th he summoned Bubna and offered to give up the Duchy of
Warsaw--provided that the King of Saxony gained an indemnity--also the
Illyrian Provinces (but without Istria), as well as Danzig, if its
fortifications were destroyed. As for the Hanse Towns and North
Germany, he would not hear of letting them go. Bubna thought that
Austria would acquiesce. But she had said her last word: she saw that
Napoleon was trifling with her until he had disposed of Russia and
Prussia. And, at midnight of August 10th, beacon fires on the heights
of the Riesengebirge flashed the glad news to the allies in Silesia
that they might begin to march their columns into Bohemia. The second
and vaster Act in the drama of liberation had begun.
Did Napoleon remember, in that crisis of his destiny, that it was
exactly twenty-one years since the downfall of the old French
monarchy, when he looked forth on the collapse of the royalist defence
at the Tuileries and the fruitless bravery of the Swiss Guards?
* * * * *