A Broken Friendship and what it Brought
(1810-1812)
Napoleon now entered with renewed zest upon the work of perfecting his
Continental System, and in so doing he quarrelled with his brother
Louis, King of Holland. The young monarch had followed a liberal
policy, devoting his time and energy to the interests of his people,
and earning their respect if not their love. Napoleon always regarded
the land of dykes and wind-mills as scarcely more than a province of
France; Louis was determined that his country should be independent.
He was no believer in the Emperor’s plan to keep out British goods,
so profitable a source of revenue, and as a consequence an extensive
business was carried on between Holland and England. Napoleon
threatened, Louis temporised, until the former, holding the trump card,
finally settled to annex the Kingdom which so openly defied his wishes
and commands. Louis was aware that this would probably be the end of
the quarrel, for on the 21st September 1809, Napoleon had written a
letter to him setting forth his many grievances. He charged the King
with favouring Dutchmen who were well disposed towards England, with
making speeches containing “nothing but disagreeable allusions to
France,” with allowing “the relations between Holland and England to be
renewed,” with violating “the laws of the blockade which is the only
means of efficaciously injuring this Power,” and so on.
“To sum up,” he concluded, “the annexation of Holland to France is
what would be most useful to France, to Holland, and to the Continent,
because it is what would be most harmful to England. This annexation
could be carried out by consent or by force. I have sufficient
grievance against Holland to declare war; at the same time I am quite
ready to agree to an arrangement which would yield to me the Rhine as
a frontier, and by which Holland would emerge to fulfil the conditions
stipulated above.”
The Emperor began by annexing the island of Walcheren. Gradually the
encroachments were extended until the left bank of the Rhine was wholly
French. Troops were drafted to Holland, the Dutch bitterly resenting
the interference of Napoleon in affairs which they held were no concern
of his. There was talk of an insurrection, of arming the country
to resist the arbitrary claims of the despot. Finally the unhappy
Louis abdicated in favour of his son, and retired to the confines of
Bohemia. Little more than a week later Holland was definitely annexed
to the Empire, thereby adding nine departments to France. In the
following month Jerome Bonaparte, King of Westphalia, was offended by
the appearance of French troops at the mouths of the Elbe and Weser.
Indeed, it would appear as if Napoleon was intent upon alienating
the affection of the members of his own Imperial family. Perhaps the
most tried brother was Joseph, who deserved all pity in the far from
enthusiastic reception his new Spanish subjects were according him.
Lucien had long since quarrelled with the Emperor, and although the
latter attempted a reconciliation he was unsuccessful. On obtaining
Napoleon’s permission to retire to America, the ship on which he sailed
was captured by an English frigate, and for several years he lived the
life of a country gentleman in the land he had been brought up to hate.
The hapless Josephine was in retirement at Malmaison; Murat failed
to see eye to eye with his brother-in-law, so much so that later the
Emperor threatened to deprive him of his throne. In 1810 Napoleon also
lost the services and support of Bernadotte by his election as Crown
Prince of Sweden.
But while his brothers and friends were thus falling away from him
Napoleon felt amply compensated in March 1811 by the birth of a son,
who was given the high-sounding title of King of Rome. It will be
remembered that Charlemagne, founder of the Holy Roman Empire, was
styled “King of the Romans.” “Glory had never caused him to shed a
single tear,” says Constant, the Emperor’s valet, “but the happiness
of being a father had softened that soul which the most brilliant
victories and the most sincere tokens of public admiration scarcely
seemed to touch.”
Supreme in war, Napoleon was also one of the greatest administrators
of whom we have record. As the story of his life has progressed we
have noted how he set about the reformation of the governments of the
various countries he had conquered or where his word was regarded as
law. “The State--it is I,” said Louis XIV., and Napoleon summed up his
own mode of life on one occasion by quoting the remark, which was no
mere figure of speech. He seldom took recreation; when he was tired of
thinking of battalions he thought of fleets, or colonies, or commerce.
As Emperor he sometimes hunted, but more from a matter of policy than
because he loved sport, just as he went to Mass to set a good example,
and to the first act of a new play to gratify public curiosity. M.
Frédéric Masson, the eminent Napoleonic historian, is authority for
the statement that the Emperor once promised to attend a magnificent
ball, and the most elaborate preparations had been made in his honour.
Unfortunately the Imperial guest remained closeted with the Minister of
Finance from eight o’clock in the evening until he heard a clock strike
and was surprised to find that it was 3 A.M. The so-called pleasures
of the table were miseries to him, and he ate his food with no regard
whatever for convention or the menu. He would begin with an ice and
finish with a viand.
The “Memoirs” of Napoleon’s three private secretaries, Bourrienne,
Méneval, and Fain, afford us intimate views of the great man at work.
Those of Bourrienne are the least authentic because they are not
entirely his writing. The Emperor had an unfortunate habit from his
secretary’s point of view of dictating his correspondence in full, and
he spoke at such a rate that it was almost impossible to note what he
said in its entirety. To interrupt him was a breach of etiquette. Fain
found it necessary to leave blanks, which he filled up when he was
transcribing with the help of the context.
M. Masson thus describes the Emperor’s work-room at the Tuileries:--
“The room which Napoleon made into his study was of moderate size.
It was lighted by a single window made in a corner and looking into
the garden. The principal piece of furniture, placed in the middle,
was a magnificent bureau, loaded with gilt bronze, and supported by
two griffins. The lid of the table slided into a groove, so that it
could be shut without disarranging the papers. Under the bureau, and
screwed to the floor, was a sliding cupboard, into which every time
the Emperor went out was placed a portfolio of which he alone had the
key. The armchair belonging to the bureau was of antique shape; the
back was covered with tapestry of green kerseymere, the folds of which
were fastened by silk cords, and the arms finished off with griffins’
heads. The Emperor scarcely ever sat down in his chair except to give
his signature. He kept habitually at the right of the fireplace, on a
small sofa covered with green taffeta, near to which was a stand which
received the correspondence of the day. A screen of several leaves
kept off the heat of the fire. At the further end of the room, at
right angles in the corners, were placed four bookcases, and between
the two which occupied the wall at the end was a great regulator clock
of the same kind as that furnished in 1808 by Bailly for the study at
Compiègne, which cost 4000 francs.... There were books also in the back
study, books in the cabinet of the keeper of the portfolio, along the
side of the bedroom, and books also in the little apartment.
“Opposite the fireplace, a long closet with glass doors, breast high,
with a marble top, contained boxes for papers, and carried the volumes
to be consulted and the documents in use; no doubt also the equestrian
statuette of Frederick II., which the Emperor constantly had under his
eyes. This statuette was the only work of art which he ever personally
desired to have.
“In the recess of the window was the table of the private secretary.
The room was furnished with a few chairs. At night, to light his
bureau, Napoleon used a candlestick with two branches, with a great
shade of sheet iron of the ordinary kind.”
There was also a back study, where the Emperor usually received his
Ministers of State, a topographic study, and two small rooms. From
this suite of apartments Napoleon may be said to have directed Western
Europe.
Brief mention must be made of the Emperor’s “campaign” library. The
volumes were contained in two mahogany cases fitted with shelves; each
book was noted in a miniature catalogue and had its special place,
changes being made from time to time. Novels, historical memoirs,
poetry, and the classics were invariably represented. No fewer than six
chests of volumes were conveyed to Waterloo.
Meanwhile the rearrangement of Europe, always to the advantage of
France, continued almost without cessation by the addition of a strip
of territory here, some miles of another man’s possessions there.
Soon every inch of coast line from the Rhine to the Elbe was under
Napoleon’s domination. Oldenburg, a Duchy ruled by one of the Czar’s
relations, was swallowed up, the Hanseatic towns and Valais were
incorporated in the ever-growing Empire. The restoration of Polish
independence by the Emperor of the French seemed not improbable and
annoyed the Czar intensely. The latter had good ground for thinking
that Napoleon contemplated this course in the recent territorial
acquisitions of the Duchy of Warsaw according to the terms of the
Treaty of Schönbrünn. When he boldly asked for an assurance that the
kingdom of Poland should never be re-established, Napoleon politely
declined, contenting himself with the statement that he would not
assist anyone else to do it, thereby leaving a loophole for his own
interference should he deem it necessary or desirable.
Such a reckless, or rather insane, policy made it evident that Napoleon
no longer intended to share the world with the Emperor of all the
Russias as he had suggested at Tilsit and Erfurt. We have already
noticed that the Czar had entertained suspicions of his friend’s
loyalty, a doubt reciprocated by Napoleon, who was intensely annoyed
that Russia had not kept strictly to the terms of the Continental
System, the relaxation of which was considerably to the benefit both
of Great Britain and of Russia. Alexander, also, had been at war with
Turkey, and Napoleon, instead of aiding his ally, as the Czar had a
certain amount of right to expect, endeavoured to prolong the contest
to serve his own personal ends. This the Porte, suspecting ulterior
motives, refused to do, and on the 28th May 1812 peace was restored,
to be followed in July by peace between Russia and Great Britain.
Sweden, coveting Norway and knowing that no help could be expected
from France in the fulfilment of her hope, while possibly it might be
received from Russia, also came to terms with the two reconciled Powers
after hostile measures had been undertaken against her by Davout in
Pomerania. Preparations for war were now made by France and Russia
in real earnest. Following his usual plan Napoleon made overtures to
England for a cessation of hostilities. His terms were that the present
occupants of the thrones of Spain and Naples should be acknowledged by
Great Britain and her troops withdrawn from their territory. He on his
part undertook to recall his armies.
On the eve of the Emperor’s departure for Dresden to dazzle and flatter
his allies by a final display of grandeur worthy the Conqueror of
Western Europe, Pasquier, his newly-appointed Prefect of Police, had
an interview with him. The question of a shortage in the food supply
of Paris had come up, and Pasquier had ventured to remark that the
situation would be rendered more dangerous by the monarch’s absence.
“Napoleon appeared struck by these few remarks,” Pasquier tells us.
“When I had ended speaking, he remained silent, and pacing to and fro
between the window and the fireplace, his arms crossed behind his
back, like a man who is pondering deeply. I followed in his steps,
when, facing me suddenly, he uttered the words which follow: ‘Yes,
there is doubtless some truth in what you tell me; it is one more
difficulty added to the many I have to face in _the greatest, the most
difficult_ undertaking I have ever attempted; but I must fain bring to
a termination what I have begun. _Farewell, monsieur le préfet._’”
On the 9th May 1812, the Emperor and his consort set out on their
journey to the capital of Saxony. It was one long series of festivities
culminating in a Court of Kings which included the Emperor and Empress
of Austria, the Kings of Prussia, Saxony, Naples, Würtemberg, and
Westphalia, and the rulers of Saxe Weimar, Saxe Coburg, and Dessau.
“His levée,” says de Ségur, “presented a remarkable sight. Sovereign
princes waited for an audience from the Conqueror of Europe; they
were mixed up to such an extent with his officers that the latter
were frequently on their guard lest they should accidentally brush
up against these new courtiers and be confounded with them.” His
description may be a little exaggerated, but it showed to what a
supreme height Napoleon had risen, and how marked had been the change
in his ideas since the days when he would have willingly laid down
his life for Republicanism. At St Helena he stated that at Dresden he
“appeared as the King of Kings.” This was not meant in any blasphemous
sense, but was merely the Emperor’s summing-up of the unique and
all-powerful position he then occupied. The inhabitants of Dresden
waited in the streets for hours on the chance of getting a fleeting
glimpse of the “little great man” who had done so much and who was
expected to do considerably more in the forthcoming campaign. “It was
not his crown,” says Count Philip de Ségur, “his rank, the luxury
of his Court, but him--himself--on whom they desired to feast their
eyes; a memento of his features which they were anxious to obtain:
they wished to be able to say to their less fortunate countrymen and
posterity that they had seen Napoleon.” Englishmen who had every reason
to hate him have left behind records which testify to the fascination
exercised over them by the Emperor on various occasions. The Germans
had nothing to thank him for, and yet they flocked in crowds to see
their oppressor.
Far from giving way to the fears which he had confessed to Pasquier,
the Emperor made light of the many difficulties which he knew to be
insuperable to the task he had undertaken. To the Abbé de Pradt,
Archbishop of Malines, whom he sent as envoy to Warsaw, he remarked,
“I will destroy Russian influence in Europe. Two battles will do the
business; the Emperor Alexander will come on his knees, and Russia
shall be disarmed. Spain costs me very dear: without that I should be
master of the world; but when I become such, my son will have nothing
to do but to retain my place.”
“Never was the success of an expedition more certain;” he assured his
vassals, “I see on all sides nothing but probabilities in my favour.
Not only do I advance at the head of the immense forces of France,
Italy, Germany, the Confederation of the Rhine, and Poland, but the two
monarchies which have hitherto been the most powerful auxiliaries of
Russia against me, have now ranged themselves on my side: they espouse
my quarrel with the zeal of my oldest friends.” This was not strictly
true, and savoured rather too much of his army bulletins and similar
proclamations. Like the doctor with a nervous patient, he withheld
some of the disagreeable features of the case. “The two monarchies,”
namely Austria and Prussia, had they dared, would have preferred to
remain neutral, or if that were impossible, to come to terms with
Russia, their last resource on the Continent against the aggressor who
had treated them with such scant consideration. Prussia had “espoused”
Napoleon’s quarrel so far as to entertain hopes but a few months before
of an alliance with either Russia or Austria.
The campaign of 1812 was to dwarf all Napoleon’s previous efforts in
magnitude; a mere summing-up of statistics can at most give but an
inadequate idea of the immense armament which he deemed necessary
if a death-blow was to be struck at the heart of the great Russian
Empire. The flames of the Peninsular war were still flickering, which
necessitated the locking-up of a large number of troops under Soult,
Marmont and Suchet which Napoleon could have used to better purpose had
affairs been more settled in that quarter. France was in very truth “a
nation in arms.” For home defence the able-bodied men from twenty-five
to sixty years of age were divided into three classes, 900,000 of
whom were to garrison the fortresses on the frontiers and watch the
coasts, the remaining 300,000 to drill and make themselves efficient
for immediate service whenever necessary. A rich man considered
himself fortunate if he could secure a substitute for less than 8000
francs. The price of the Emperor’s friendship was also a costly one
to those Princes whom he deigned to favour with his attentions. The
Confederation of the Rhine was called upon to furnish 147,000 men,
Italy some 80,000, Poland 60,000. France contributed 200,000 strong,
other countries brought the total to the stupendous figure of 680,000
troops. Prussia found herself called upon to furnish 20,000 troops
for the invasion of the Czar’s territory, and enormous quantities
of oats, rice, wheat, and other provisions, in addition to hospital
accommodation, horses and carriages. Austria was to supply 30,000
soldiers, but she did so on the distinct understanding that her Polish
provinces should be kept inviolate. Prussia asked nothing and expected
nothing.
Napoleon’s new army was one of the most cosmopolitan that ever came
into being. There were French, Austrians, Prussians, Bavarians, Poles,
Italians, Illyrians, Dutch, Swiss, even a sprinkling of Spaniards and
Portuguese. These men did not all follow willingly. Indeed in 1811 no
fewer than 80,000 French conscripts deserted or failed to answer the
summons. A string of manacled recruits was not an uncommon sight in
France. Napoleon was now “the common oppressor,” the gold of glory had
turned out to be tinsel.
While France was deploring, Napoleon was organising his forces. He
brooked no delay, would listen to no arguments, was deaf to the
entreaties of those who failed to see his reason for making war with
Russia. “The Emperor is mad, quite mad,” Admiral Decrès confided to a
friend. “He will ruin us all, many as we are, and everything will end
in a frightful catastrophe.” Mad with ambition he certainly was, mad in
intellect he certainly was not.
The army was divided into ten great corps. The first under Davout, the
second under Oudinot, the third under Ney; the fourth was an Army of
Observation, under Prince Eugène; the fifth consisted of Poles under
Prince Poniatovski; the sixth, in which the Bavarians were included,
under Saint-Cyr; the seventh, made up of the troops from Saxony, under
Reynier; the eighth, of Westphalians under Vandamme, to be succeeded
by Junot; the ninth was given to Victor, the tenth to Macdonald. An
eleventh Army Corps under Augereau was afterwards created, largely
augmented from the ninth. There were also the Austrians commanded by
Prince Schwarzenberg, the Imperial Guard, and four divisions of Cavalry
under Murat and Latour-Maubourg.
To oppose such a formidable host the Czar finally mustered some 400,000
troops. At the opening of the campaign he had considerably fewer men at
his disposal than Napoleon. They were divided into three main armies.
The first Army of the West, under Barclay de Tolly, numbered 136,000;
the second Army of the West, commanded by Prince Bagration, totalled
39,000; the third, or reserve, under General Tormassoff, reached some
40,000. Other troops, drawn from various places, swelled the initial
number to perhaps 250,000. As there is considerable discrepancy in
the figures given by the most reliable authorities probably the exact
military strength of the two nations will never be known.