CHAPTER III

SOME PALADINS

IT was a common saying in the Napoleonic army that every man in the

ranks carried a Marshal’s bâton in his knapsack. This was correct in

theory, but in actual practice it hardly proved true. Every one of the

twenty-six Marshals of the First Empire had held important commands

before the rank was instituted.

Grouchy, the last Marshal to be created, was second-in-command of the

Bantry Bay expedition in 1796, when Napoleon was just making his name;

Jourdan had commanded the Army of the North as far back as 1794.

But if the title of Marshal was no more than their bare due, Napoleon

certainly gave his generals other honours in plenty. One of them, Murat,

he made a King; another, Bernadotte, after receiving the title of

Sovereign Prince of Ponte Corvo, later became King of Sweden and Norway.

Berthier was Sovereign Prince of Neufchâtel. Three other Marshals were

created Princes of the Empire; thirteen were created Dukes; six, Counts;

and the only one remaining, Poniatowski, was a Prince of Poland already.

Besides titles, wealth without limit was showered upon them. Suchet

received half a million francs with his bâton; Davout in 1811 enjoyed an

income, all told, of two million francs a year along with the unofficial

dictatorship of Poland and the command of a hundred and fifty thousand

men. It was Napoleon’s habit to bestow upon his generals huge estates in

each country he conquered. Lefebvre received the domain of Johannisberg,

on the Rhine, which had once belonged to the Emperor of Austria and

later passed to the Metternich family, while Junot received a castle and

estate of the unlucky King of Prussia. Nearly every man of mark was

given five thousand acres or so in Poland, with the attached serfs. And

Napoleon was the Apostle of the Revolution!

The one condition attached to the gifts was that the recipient must

spend as much as possible in the capital. So Parisian shopkeepers grew

fat and praised the Empire; the Paris mob battened on the crumbs which

fell from the tables, and a feverish gaiety impressed the onlooker. Out

in the subject countries was nothing but a grinding poverty, and in the

countries recently conquered by France the tax-collectors strove to

gather in enough to pay the indemnities, and even the rats starved

because the Grand Army had passed that way.

It is when we come to examine the careers of the Marshals that we first

meet evidence of one of the most curious and significant facts of

Napoleon’s life. Everybody to whom Napoleon showed great favour;

everyone who received his confidence; everyone, in consequence, who had

appeared at one time to be on the direct road to unbounded prosperity,

met with a most tragic and unfortunate end. Not a few of the worst

set-backs which Napoleon experienced were due to the defects of those

whom he had trusted and aggrandized, and many of his favourites,

apparently too weak morally to endure the intoxication of success,

turned against him when fortune ceased to smile upon him. Their deaths

were tragic, and their lives were nearly all dishonourable.

Of all the Marshals, Berthier was the foremost in seniority, in

precedence, and in favour. In every campaign which Napoleon fought, from

1796 to 1814, he held the position of Chief of Staff. The history of his

military career during this period needs no repetition—it is one with

Napoleon’s. Every conceivable honour was bestowed upon him. He was given

the sovereignty of the principality of Neufchâtel and Valangin; in 1809

the additional title of Prince of Wagram; he was appointed a Senator, a

Minister, Vice-Constable of France and a Grand Dignitary of the Empire;

at Napoleon’s hands he received a bride of royal descent, in the person

of a Princess of Bavaria; in 1810 the supreme honour was his of

representing Napoleon at the preliminary ceremony of the marriage with

Marie Louise. It seemed that he was one with Napoleon, his faithful

shadow and devoted servant. And yet when Napoleon abdicated and was sent

to Elba, Berthier threw in his lot with the Bourbons, and swore

allegiance to them. Napoleon’s return and new accession to power during

the Hundred Days, in consequence placed him in a terrible position. He

was torn between his new allegiance and his old devotion to Napoleon.

The strain proved too severe. He died at Bamberg, just before Waterloo,

having flung himself from a high window in his despair.

The second senior of the Marshals was Joachim Murat. Murat was fortunate

in two ways. He was able to handle large masses of cavalry with decision

on a battlefield, and he married the sister of the Emperor. There was

very little else to recommend him for distinction, but these two facts

were sufficient to raise him to a throne. Napoleon appointed him to the

command of the cavalry of the Grand Army. He made him a Prince and Grand

Admiral of France. Next came a sovereignty—the Grand Duchy of Berg and

Cleves, and two years later Murat mounted the throne which Joseph

Bonaparte had just vacated, and became King of the Two Sicilies. So far,

it was a highly satisfactory career for a man who had begun as the

assistant of his father, the inn and posting-house keeper of La Bastide.

Murat determined to keep his throne, and during the dark days of 1814 he

turned against Napoleon, and marched at the head of his Neapolitans

against the French. But retribution was swift. He lost his throne next

year in a premature attempt to unite Italy, and in the end he was shot

by the indignant Neapolitan Bourbons after the miserable failure of an

attempt on his part to recover his crown after the fashion set by

Napoleon in his descent from Elba.

It is, perhaps, a pardonable digression to consider here what might have

happened had Murat retained his throne. It is certain that he would have

been as progressive as the Austrians and his own weak nature would have

allowed. It is possible that the United Italy party would have looked

towards his dynasty instead of to the House of Savoy. The growing

Napoleonic tradition would have aided. Perhaps to-day we might behold in

the south a King of Italy descended from a Gascon stable-boy, to balance

in the north a King of Sweden descended from a Gascon lawyer’s clerk.

But to return to our former theme. So far we have seen two of Napoleon’s

favourites meet with violent deaths. There are many more instances.

Bessières was a nonentity distinguished by little except his devotion to

the Empire. He attracted Napoleon’s notice in 1796, and his doglike

faithfulness was a sure recommendation. Bessières became the Commander

of the Guard; later he was created Duke of Istria and was given immense

riches. Napoleon honoured him with all the friendship of which he was

capable; it seemed not unlikely that a throne would be found for him.

But Bessières died in agony after receiving a mortal wound at Lützen.

Then there was Ney, the brave des braves. His personal courage was

almost his only title to fame. When Napoleon attained supreme power, Ney

was a divisional general of the Army of the Rhine. Under the Empire he

became Marshal, Duke of Elchingen and Prince of the Moskowa. It was Ney

who made Ulm possible by his victory at Elchingen; it was he whose

attack beat back the Russians at Friedland; to him is due much of the

credit for Borodino, while his command of the rearguard during the

retreat from Moscow is beyond praise. And yet he was many times in

error. At Jena and during the Eylau campaign his impetuosity was almost

disastrous. He made several grave mistakes during Masséna’s campaign in

Spain, 1810-1811. At Bautzen in 1813 he lost a great opportunity, and he

was beaten later at Dennewitz. It was his vigour and his dauntless

courage which recommended him to Napoleon, who made full use of these

qualities to stimulate the hero-worship of his young troops. Ney

received wealth, high command and a princely title at the Emperor’s

hands. Then he helped to force the Emperor to abdicate. However, he was

unstable; he betrayed his new king and went over to Napoleon during the

descent from Elba. Napoleon entrusted him with the task of staving off

the English during the Waterloo campaign, and he failed lamentably. He

lost a great opportunity at Quatre Bras through having allowed his

columns to lengthen out; he shilly-shallied all the morning of the 16th

of June; he ruined the campaign by his furious countermand to d’Erlon in

the afternoon; and finally at Waterloo he wasted the reserve cavalry by

his unsupported attacks on the English squares. And the Bourbons shot

him as soon as possible after the second Restoration.

Lannes, “the Bayard of the French Army,” whom Napoleon had called “le

braves des braves” before he gave the title to Ney, met with as

miserable a fate. He had begun life as a dyer’s apprentice at Lectourne,

but enlisted at the opening of the Revolutionary wars, and was a colonel

on Napoleon’s staff during the first campaign of Italy. His fearless

acceptance of responsibility, and his magnificent dash and courage while

in action were his great assets, and Napoleon favoured him more than any

of the younger Marshals, except Murat. It was largely through him that

Napoleon found it possible to employ the strategic weapon which he

invented—the strategic advanced guard. Victories as widely divided as

Marengo and Friedland were directly due to Lannes, and he was

proportionately rewarded with a Marshalate, a Colonel-generalship, an

enormous fortune and the title of Duke of Montebello. But he was

mortally wounded at Aspern, and died of gangrene at Vienna.

There was one Marshal whom Napoleon especially favoured who did not meet

with a violent death. Nevertheless his end was more terrible by far than

was Bessières’ or even Lannes’. This was Marmont, who in 1796 was a

young captain twenty-two years of age, but who gained Napoleon’s regard

to such good effect that he was Inspector-General of Artillery at

twenty-six, governor of Illyria and Duke of Ragusa at thirty-four, and

Marshal in 1809, one year later. But he failed in Spain, Wellington

beating him thoroughly at Salamanca. In 1814 he dealt the finishing blow

to the tottering Empire by his surrender of Paris. He seemed fated to be

unfortunate. Pampered by the Bourbons, he mishandled the army in Paris

during Charles X.’s attempt at absolute power, and ruined both the

dynasty and himself. He dragged out the remainder of his life in exile,

hated and despised alike by Bonapartists, Legitimists, Orleanists and

Republicans.

So much for the Marshals Napoleon liked; his favour certainly appears to

have been blighting. Now for those whom he disliked.

When Napoleon finally got rid of Moreau, the man who succeeded in

general estimation to the vacant and undesirable position of unofficial

leader of the unofficial opposition was Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte.

This man was one of the most despicable and successful trimmers in

history. In Moreau’s Army of the Rhine he had attained the rank of

general of division, but he was in no way a talented leader. Just before

Napoleon’s return from Egypt he had intrigued to attain the supreme

power, but over-reached himself. In Napoleon’s _coup d’état_ of the 18th

Brumaire he hunted with the hounds and ran with the hare with remarkable

success, assuring the Directory on the one hand of his unfaltering

support, and yet joining the group of generals who accompanied Napoleon,

but characteristically not wearing uniform. In addition, he had a

convenient shelter behind a woman’s petticoats, for with subtle

forethought he had married Joseph Bonaparte’s sister-in-law, Désirée

Clary. Désirée was a jilted sweetheart of Napoleon’s, and what with her

hatred of the great man, Joseph’s support, and Napoleon’s horror of a

scandal in his family (combined with a sneaking affection for her)

Bernadotte made himself fairly secure all round. But he still continued

to intrigue against Napoleon. During the Consulate an extraordinary

conspiracy was discovered centring at Rennes, Bernadotte’s headquarters.

Bernadotte himself was undoubtedly implicated, but he somehow wriggled

free from suspicion. To the Republicans he posed as a Republican; the

Bourbons were convinced that he was on their side; actually he was

working for his own hand, while, thanks to Joseph, he obtained his

Marshalate and the principality of Ponte Corvo from the Empire.

In action, various unsavourily suspicious incidents occurred in

connection with him. In 1806 he took advantage of an ambiguous order to

absent his corps both from Jena and Auerstädt; the results of his action

might have been far-reaching. Later Benningsen and the Russian army

escaped from the trap Napoleon had set for them by capturing vital

orders which were on their way to the Prince of Ponte Corvo. At Wagram

his corps was routed and broken up.

But when, in 1810, the Swedes were seeking a Crown Prince for their

country, he was the man they selected. Apparently their choice should

have been agreeable to Napoleon. Was Bernadotte not the brother-in-law

of the King of Spain, a connection by marriage of the Emperor, Prince of

Ponte Corvo and one of the senior Marshals? Moreover, while Governor of

Hanover, he had had dealings with the Swedes and had ingratiated himself

in their esteem. Napoleon was furious, but he could do nothing, and

Bernadotte became Crown Prince and virtual autocrat of Sweden. It only

remained for him to win the favour of Russia by turning against France,

so that, at the Treaty of Abo, Norway as well was handed over to his

tender mercies.

Later he even angled for the throne of France, but the French could

never forgive the part he had played in defeating them at Gross Beeren,

Dennewitz and Leipzig; they did not realize that with this very object

in view he had almost betrayed his new allies, and had hung back and

procrastinated in order to retain his French popularity.

But double-dealer, intriguer, traitor that he was, hated by Napoleon,

hated by the French people, despised by the rest of Europe, he

nevertheless held on to his throne, and transmitted it to his

descendants. Nowadays the House of Bernadotte is not considered too

ignoble to wed even with a branch of the House of Windsor.

There were other Marshals whom Napoleon disliked, mainly because of

their former association with Moreau. Macdonald was the son of a

supporter of the Young Pretender, and was a relative of Flora Macdonald.

He failed to pass the examination for a commission under the old régime,

but with the Revolution came his chance. He distinguished himself under

Dumouriez and Pichegru (who subsequently turned Royalist), and then

under Moreau. It was an unlucky start for him. The Directory appointed

him to the command of the Army of Naples, but with this force he was

beaten by Suvaroff in the four days’ battle of the Trebbia. Subsequently

he performed the marvellous feat of leading an army across the Splugen

in midwinter, but for all that Napoleon employed him as little as

possible, keeping him on half-pay until 1809. However, Macdonald

received his bâton after Wagram; mainly, it is believed, to throw a

stronger light on Bernadotte’s failure. In 1813 Macdonald, Duke of

Tarentum, was beaten again at the Katzbach, but by now Napoleon had some

idea of his worth and retained him in command. By a delicious piece of

irony, Macdonald the distrusted was the last Marshal to leave the

Emperor in 1814; he was also one of the few to adhere to the Bourbons

during the Hundred Days. He enjoyed great honour under the Restoration

and the July Monarchy, and died comfortably in his bed at the age of

seventy-five.

Another _bête noire_ of Napoleon’s was St. Cyr. He too was one of the

“Spartans of the Rhine.” In consequence Napoleon kept him out of active

service as much as possible. This course of action was of doubtful

utility, for St. Cyr was a man of superior talents. Not until 1812 was

he made a Marshal, but wounds then kept him out of action until August,

1813, and he was made prisoner by the Allies in the autumn. The

Bourbons, however, took kindly to him, and he held various high offices

until his death in 1830.

Thus the five favourite Marshals of Napoleon died miserably, and the

three whom he disliked would be said to have lived happily ever after by

any self-respecting moral story-teller. It is a very curious fact, and

one which finds a parallel elsewhere in Napoleon’s career, as we shall

see in later chapters.

[Illustration: PRINCE JOACHIM

(MURAT, KING OF THE TWO SICILIES)]

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