The War of the Third Coalition
(1805-6)
Swift decision was as essentially a characteristic of Napoleon as
was his policy of having an alternative scheme to fall back upon
should the first and more important plan miscarry. A typical example
in which both are to be seen is afforded by a study of the War of
the Third Coalition, against the allied Powers, Austria, Russia,
and Great Britain. Disappointed at the failure of his preparations
for the invasion of England, but clinging to his pet project, the
humiliation of that country, the Emperor suddenly, and with apparently
little forethought, led his legions in the opposite direction. England
remained unviolated, but he saw a chance of stealing a march on
Austria, her faithful friend.
[Illustration: Napoleon decorating his Soldiers at Boulogne
By F. G. Roussel
Photo Neurdein]
On the 26th August, 1805, two days after the Elector of Bavaria had
signified his intention of casting in his lot with France, the Army
of England, never destined to get nearer to the land whose name it
bore than its headquarters at Boulogne, and now known as the Grand
Army, began its long march from the coasts of the English Channel to
the banks of the Danube. Napoleon’s forces soon reached the enormous
total of 200,000 men, the majority of whom, braced up by their long
sojourn by the sea, were more fit physically for an arduous campaign
than any other army in Europe. Despite defects in organisation and
the free-and-easy methods of some of its officers, the Grand Army
was the army of achievement. It carried the eagles of France, not to
one victory only, but to many. No armament since the dawn of history
has failed to be criticised for its imperfections. It is easy to be
drill-perfect, and yet to fail in the field.
That the invasion of England was a mere feint has often been asserted,
whereas the weight of evidence is on the other side. The multitude
of orders issued by Napoleon, the reckless expenditure of money on
the flotilla and the enlargement of Boulogne harbour, the medal
struck to commemorate the achievement destined never to be used, the
determination with which he waited until the last moment for the
appearance of his fleets, are surely sufficient proofs of his sincerity
in the matter. Moreover, on its first campaign the Grand Army had
to plunder or to starve because the commissariat arrangements were
hopelessly inadequate, the greater part of the provisions being left on
the coast. This in itself shows with what haste the camp was broken up
and the march begun.
The army was divided into seven corps commanded by tried warriors of
France, namely, Ney, Lannes, Soult, Davout, Bernadotte, Marmont, and
Augereau. Murat was placed at the head of the cavalry. With the Emperor
was the magnificent Imperial Guard, at once the pride of Napoleon and
of the whole army. The Bavarians numbered some 27,000.
The Imperialists had two principal forces. That in Italy numbered
nearly 100,000 troops, who were under Archduke Charles; the other in
Germany totalled 76,000, and was commanded in theory by Archduke
Ferdinand. As the latter was a youth of nineteen summers the real work
devolved on General Mack, chief of the staff, although the Archduke was
responsible to the Emperor. Unfortunately Mack was not particularly
popular, and consequently received but weak support from his immediate
subordinates.
The Austrian service was steeped in tradition and crowded with
aristocratic nobodies. To be sure some of the cleverest officers
had studied the men and methods of the all-conquering French armies
since the last campaign, but the quick movements of the enemy at once
dismayed and deceived the slow-moving Imperialist columns. Augsburg
was speedily occupied by the French; at Wertingen, Lannes cut up a
division; and Ulm, Mack’s headquarters, was so completely at the mercy
of the enemy’s army owing to the rapid concentration of troops under
Lannes, Soult, and Marmont that the unfortunate general speedily
capitulated. He was made a scapegoat, court-martialled, deprived of his
rank, and placed in a fortress for two years.
All these events happened within one month, and were the work of
men who had been forced to provide themselves with most of their
necessities. Bad weather had added to their troubles, marches had been
made in torrents of rain, and the wind had sometimes been so boisterous
as to prevent their lighting a fire by which to dry their soaking
uniforms. Says a contemporary officer whose information is beyond
dispute:--
“To surround Ulm it was necessary to concentrate. Numerous columns
defiled upon the same road, appeared at the same point. 100,000 men,
fatigued by long marches, destitute of provisions, come to take up a
position which grows more and more confined. They are now no more
allowed to straggle from their post, for then the whole enterprise
would fail. What a critical moment! The resources of the country
occupied by this mass are consumed in an hour.
“To enhance the difficulty, the heavens seem to dissolve. A heavy rain,
continuing for many days, floods the country. The streams burst their
banks. The roads are frightful, and in more than one place altogether
disappear. The army marches in mud, and bivouacks in water; it is
ready to perish with misery and hunger; discouragement and murmuring
spread through it. What is to be done? A proclamation is read at the
head of each column, which praises, flatters, and caresses the army,
pours eulogy on its constancy, tells it the enemy is enclosed, and that
only a few moments more of perseverance are needed. Thus the soldiers
are kept quiet; but as they must have bread, active and intelligent
officers are sent through all the neighbouring districts, to obtain it
by threats, if requests fail. All yields to the power of requisition,
and in twenty-four hours bread is procured, and the horses and vehicles
of the inhabitants are used to bring it in.... Ulm is invested,
blockaded, capitulates, and the French army reap the fruit of its
endurance and of its incredible activity.”
Napoleon next turned his attentions to the Russians under Kutusoff,
who had now entered the field on behalf of their allies, trusting to
disappoint their hopes as speedily as he had dispersed those of the
Austrians. Time was all-important, as extensive reinforcements were
shortly expected by the enemy. Without scruple or qualms of conscience
some of the French forces under Bernadotte were therefore marched
through the neutral territory of Prussia. It was unjustifiable, of
course, but Napoleon made no apologies for treading on national corns.
By the middle of November the Emperor was in Vienna, no opposition
being offered.
In Italy all was not quite so well. Masséna was unable to overcome the
Austrian forces under Archduke Charles at Caldiero, which retreated
in good order to Laybach. There they concentrated with Archduke
John, who had been driven from Tyrol with severe losses by Ney and
the Bavarians. After failing to bring hostilities to a conclusion by
diplomatic measures, and foreseeing a winter campaign which would in
all probability prove a protracted one, Napoleon determined, as on many
other occasions, to put all to the hazard in an attempt to bring the
contest to an end by a crushing victory. His forces were necessarily
widely scattered, but 65,000 troops were available, whereas the allies
had some 90,000. On the morning of the 2nd December, 1805, the rays
of the sun quickly dispelled the mist which hung about the plateau of
Pratzen--“the sun of Austerlitz,” as the Emperor frequently termed it
in later campaigns.
Rapp, with the authority of an eye-witness, thus describes “The Day of
the Anniversary,” as many of the soldiers called the battle, because
Napoleon had been crowned just twelve months before:--
“When we arrived at Austerlitz, the Russians, ignorant of the
Emperor’s skilful dispositions to draw them to the ground which he
had marked out, and seeing our advanced guards give way before their
columns, they conceived the victory won. According to their notions,
the advanced guard would suffice to secure an easy triumph. But the
battle began--they found what it was to fight, and on every point were
repulsed. At one o’clock the victory was still uncertain; for they
fought admirably. They resolved on a last effort, and directed close
masses against our centre. The Imperial Guard deployed: artillery,
cavalry, infantry were marched against a bridge which the Russians
attacked, and this movement, concealed from Napoleon by the inequality
of the ground, was not observed by us. At this moment I was standing
near him, waiting orders. We heard a well-maintained fire of musketry;
the Russians were repulsing one of our brigades. Hearing this sound,
the Emperor ordered me to take the Mamelukes, two squadrons of
Chasseurs, one of Grenadiers of the Guard, and to observe the state of
things.
“I set off at full gallop, and, before advancing a cannon-shot,
perceived the disaster. The Russian cavalry had penetrated our squares,
and were sabring our men. In the distance could be perceived masses
of Russian cavalry and infantry in reserve. At this juncture, the
enemy advanced; four pieces of artillery arrived at a gallop, and were
planted in position against us. On my left I had the brave Morland,
on my right General d’Allemagne. ‘Courage, my brave fellows!’ cried
I to my party; ‘behold your brothers, your friends butchered; let us
avenge them, avenge our standards! Forward!’ These few words inspired
my soldiers; we dashed at full speed upon the artillery, and took
them. The enemy’s horse, which awaited our attack, were overthrown by
the same charge, and fled in confusion, galloping, like us, over the
wrecks of our own squares. In the meantime the Russians rallied; but,
a squadron of Horse Grenadiers coming to our assistance, I could then
halt, and wait the reserves of the Russian Guard.
“Again we charged, and this charge was terrible. The brave Morland
fell by my side. It was absolute butchery. We fought man to man, and so
mingled together, that the infantry on neither side dared to fire, lest
they should kill their own men. The intrepidity of our troops finally
bore us in triumph over all opposition: the enemy fled in disorder in
sight of the two Emperors of Austria and Russia, who had taken their
station on a rising ground in order to be spectators of the contest.
They ought to have been satisfied, for I can assure you they witnessed
no child’s play. For my own part ... I never passed so delightful a
day. The Emperor received me most graciously when I arrived to tell him
that the victory was ours; I still grasped my broken sabre, and as this
scratch upon my head bled very copiously, I was all covered with blood.
He named me General of Division. The Russians returned not again to
the charge--they had had enough; we captured everything, their cannon,
their baggage, their all in short; and Prince Ressina was among the
prisoners.”
The total loss of the allies reached the amazing figure of 26,000, or
not quite four times as many as that sustained by the victors. The
story told of Napoleon that when the fugitives of the defeated armies
were endeavouring to cross the frozen surface of Lake Satschan he
ordered the artillery of his Guard to fire on the ice, thereby drowning
the poor wretches, has now been proved apocryphal.
[Illustration: The Night before Austerlitz
By A. Dawant
By permission of Messrs. Goupil & Co.]
Those who have read Macaulay’s “Essays” will perhaps remember an
anecdote introduced to show that exact fulfilment of certain rules
does not necessarily constitute success. “We have heard of an old
German officer,” he relates, “who was a great admirer of correctness
in military operations. He used to revile Bonaparte for spoiling the
science of war, which had been carried to such exquisite perfection
by Marshal Daun. ‘In my youth he used to march and countermarch all
the summer without gaining or losing a square league, and then we went
into winter quarters. And now comes an ignorant, hot-headed young
man, who flies about from Boulogne to Ulm, and from Ulm to the middle
of Moravia, and fights battles in December. The whole system of his
tactics is monstrously incorrect.’ The world is of opinion in spite of
critics like these, that the end of war is to conquer, and that those
means are the most correct which best accomplish the ends.” Napoleon
was great enough to break rules which a man of mediocre ability would
not dare to defy. This is the secret of the Emperor’s skill in warfare,
of his short but decisive campaigns which astonished officers of less
intuition and daring.
After Austerlitz an armistice was arranged, followed on the 26th
December 1805, by the signature of the Peace of Pressburg. Venetia,
Istria, and Dalmatia were ceded by Austria to Italy; Bavaria gained
Tyrol and Vorarlberg; Baden and Würtemberg also came in for a share
of the spoil, and their rulers, hitherto styled Electors, became
Kings. Prussia, deeming it wiser to appear as a strong ally than as a
weak neutral, attached herself to the Nation of Conquests, although
Frederick William had been within an ace of declaring war before
Austerlitz. An offensive and defensive alliance was first drawn up,
then the former clause was struck out, it being arranged that the
respective territories of the countries should be held sacred. Hanover
was handed over to Prussia in exchange for the territories of Clèves
and Neuchâtel, Anspach was ceded to Bavaria, and the principal rivers
were closed to British commerce.
This high-handed action was partly nullified by a strict blockade on
the part of Great Britain and Sweden, and many Prussian ships were
secured as prizes. King Frederick William III. speedily began to regret
his bargain with Napoleon, and with the genius for double-dealing so
often characteristic of weak men, he came to a secret understanding
with the Czar, promising among other things that he would refuse to
attack Russia should he be called upon to do so by Napoleon. On his
part, Alexander was to come to the help of the House of Hohenzollern
should it need assistance. Time was to teach them, as it does most
individuals, that “no man can serve two masters.”
Napoleon now parcelled out territory for the special benefit of his
family and friends. Joseph Bonaparte became King of the Two Sicilies
in April 1806, Naples having been occupied by French troops under
Saint-Cyr. In the following June Louis ascended the throne of Holland.
Caroline Bonaparte, now married to Murat, was granted the Grand Duchy
of Berg and Clèves the same year. Pauline was given the miniature
Duchy of Guastalla, near Parma. To Berthier Napoleon presented the
principality of Neuchâtel, to Talleyrand that of Benevento. Their power
was somewhat limited, it is true, but it pleased the recipients of the
honours for a time, and put gold in their purses, which was perhaps
even more desirable from their point of view.
Napoleon was putting into practice the theory he had propounded in
1804 when he said “there will be no rest in Europe until it is under a
single chief--an Emperor who shall have Kings for officers, who shall
distribute kingdoms to his lieutenants, and shall make this one King
of Italy, that one of Bavaria, this one ruler of Switzerland, that one
Governor of Holland, each having an office of honour in the Imperial
household.”