AUSTERLITZ
After the capitulation of Ulm, the French Emperor marched against the
Russian army, which, as he told his troops, _English gold had brought
from the ends of the earth._ As is generally the case with coalitions,
neither of the allies was ready in time or sent its full quota. In
place of the 54,000 which Alexander had covenanted to send to
Austria's support, he sent as yet only 46,000; and of these 8,000 were
detached into Podolia in order to watch the warlike moves of the
Turks, whom the French had stirred up against the Muscovite.
But Alexander had another and weightier excuse for not denuding his
realm of troops, namely, the ambiguous policy of Prussia. Up to the
middle of October this great military Power clung to her somewhat
threatening neutrality, an attitude not unlike that of the
Scandinavian States, which, in 1691, remained deaf to the entreaties
of William of Orange to take up the cause of European freedom against
Louis XIV., and were dubbed the Third Party. It would seem, however,
that the Prussian King had some grounds for his conduct: he feared the
Polish influence which Czartoryski wielded over the Czar, and saw in
the Russian request for a right of way through Prussian Poland a
deep-laid scheme for the seizure of that territory. Indeed, the
letters of Czartoryski prove that such a plan was pressed forward, and
found much favour with the Czar, though at the last moment he
prudently shelved it.[34]
For a time the hesitations of Prussia were ended by Napoleon's
violation of Ansbach, and by Alexander's frank explanations at
Potsdam; but meanwhile the delays caused by Prussia's suspicions had
marred the Austrian plans. A week's grace granted by Napoleon, or a
week gained by the Russians on their actual marching time, would have
altered the whole situation in Bavaria--and Prussia would have drawn
the sword against France to avenge the insult at Ansbach.
On October 10th Hardenberg informed the Austrian ambassador,
Metternich, that Frederick William was on the point of declaring for
the allies. Nothing, however, was done until Alexander reached
Potsdam, and the first news that he received on his arrival (October
25th) was of the surrender of Ulm. Nevertheless, the influence of the
Czar checkmated the efforts of Haugwitz and the French party, and kept
that Government to its resolve, which on November 3rd took the form of
the Treaty of Potsdam between Russia, Austria, and Prussia. Frederick
William pledged himself to offer the armed mediation of Prussia, and,
if it were refused by Napoleon, to join the allies. The Prussian
demands were as follows: indemnities for the King of Sardinia in
Lombardy, Liguria, and Parma; the independence of Naples, Holland,
Germany, and Switzerland; and the Mincio as Austria's boundary in
Italy.[35]
An envoy was to offer these terms to Napoleon, and to bring back a
definite answer within one month from the time of his departure, and
in the meantime 180,000 Prussians prepared to threaten his flank and
rear. Alexander also secretly pledged himself to use his influence
with George III. to gain Hanover for Frederick William at the close of
the war, England meanwhile subsidizing Prussia and her Saxon allies on
the usual scale. The Czar afterwards accompanied the King and Queen to
the crypt of the Great Frederick, kissed the tomb, and, as he took his
leave of their majesties, cast a significant look at the altar.[36]
Did he fear the peace-loving tendencies of the King, or the treachery
of Haugwitz? It is difficult to see good faith in every detail of the
treaty. Apart from the strange assumption that England would subsidize
Prussia and also give up Hanover, the manner in which the armed
mediation was to be offered left several loopholes for escape. After
the surrender of Ulm, speedy and vigorous action was needed to restore
the balance; yet a month's delay was bargained for. Then, too,
Haugwitz, who was charged with this most important mission, deferred
his departure for ten days on the plea that Prussia's forces could not
be ready before the middle of December. Such was the statement of the
leisurely Duke of Brunswick; but it can scarcely be reconciled with
Frederick William's threat, a month earlier, of immediate war against
the Russians if they entered his lands. Yet now that monarch approved
of the delay. Haugwitz therefore did not set out till November 14th,
and by that time Napoleon was master of Vienna, and the allies were
falling back into Moravia.
We now turn to the scene of war. For the first time in modern history
the Hapsburg capital had fallen into the hands of a foreign foe.
Napoleon now installed himself at the stately palace of Schönbrunn,
while Francis was fleeing to Olmütz and the Archdukes Charles and John
were struggling in the defiles of the Alps to disengage themselves
from the vanguard of Masséna. The march of the French on Vienna, and
thence northwards to Brünn, led to only one incident of general
interest, namely, the filching away from the Austrians of the bridge
over the Danube to the north of Vienna. As it nears the city, that
great river spreads out into several channels, the largest being on
the north. The wooden bridge further up the river having been burnt by
the Russian rearguard, there remained only the bridge or bridges,
opposite the city, on the possession of which Napoleon set much store.
He therefore charged Murat and Lannes to secure them if possible.
Murat was smarting under the Emperor's displeasure for a rash advance
on Vienna which had wellnigh cost the existence of Mortier's corps on
the other bank. Indeed, only by the most resolute bravery did the
remnant of that corps hew its way through overwhelming numbers. Murat,
who should have kept closely in touch with Mortier by a flotilla of
boats, was eager to retrieve his fault, and, with Lannes, Bertrand,
and an officer of engineers, he now approached the first part of the
bridge as if for a parley during an informal armistice which had just
been discussed but not concluded. The French Marshals had disposed the
grenadiers of General Oudinot, a body of men as renowned as their
leader for fighting qualities, behind some thickets that spread along
the southern bank and partly screened the approach. The plank
barricade at the southern end was now thrown down, and the four
Frenchmen advanced. An Austrian mounted sentinel fired his carbine and
galloped away to the main bridge; thereupon the four men advanced,
called to the officer there in command as if for a parley, and stopped
him in the act of firing the gunpowder stored beneath the bridge, with
the assurance that an armistice was, or was about to be, concluded.
Reaching the northern end they repeated their tale, and claimed to see
the commander. While the defenders were hesitating, Oudinot's
grenadiers were rapidly marching forward. As soon as they were seen,
the Austrians prepared once more to fire the bridge. Again they were
implored to desist, as peace was as good as signed. But when the
grenadiers had reached the northern bank, the mask was dropped: fresh
troops were hurrying up and the chance of saving the bridge from their
grasp was now lost. By these means did Murat and Lannes secure an
undisputed passage to the northern bank, for which four years later
the French had desperately to fight. Napoleon was delighted at Murat's
exploit, which greatly furthered his pursuit of the allies, and he at
once restored that Marshal to high favour. But those who placed
gentlemanly conduct above the glamour of a trickster's success were
not slow, even then, to express their disapproval of this act of
perfidy.[37]
The prolonged retreat into Moravia, the unexpected feebleness of the
Hapsburg arms, and the lack of supplies weighed heavily on Alexander's
spirits, as is shown in his letter from Olmütz to the King of Prussia
on November 19th: "Our position is more than critical: we stand almost
alone against the French, who are close on our heels. As for the
Austrian army, it does not exist.... If your armies advance, the whole
position will alter at once."[38] A few days later, however, when
27,000 more Russians were at hand, including his Imperial Guard, the
Czar passed from the depths of depression to the heights of
confidence. The caution of his wary commander, Kutusoff, who urged a
Fabian policy of delay and retreat, now began to weary him. To retire
into northern Hungary seemed ignominious. And though Frederick William
held to his resolve of not drawing the sword before December 15th, and
by that time the Archduke Charles with a large army was expected below
Vienna, yet the susceptible young autocrat spurned the behests of
irksome prudence. In vain did Kutusoff and Schwarzenberg urge the need
of delay and retreat: Alexander gave more heed to the rash counsels of
his younger officers. An advance was ordered on Brünn, and a
successful cavalry skirmish at Wischau confirmed the Czar in his
change from the strategy of Fabius to that of Varro.
Napoleon, who was now at Brünn, had already divined this change in the
temper of his foe, and called back his men with the express purpose of
humouring Alexander's latest mood and tempting him on to a decisive
battle. He saw clearly the advantage of fighting at once. The renewed
offers of an armistice, which he received from the prudent Francis,
might alone have convinced him of this; and they came in time to give
him an argument, telling enough to daunt the Prussian envoy, who was
now drawing near to his headquarters.
After proceeding towards Vienna and being sent back to Brünn, Haugwitz
arrived there on November 29th.[39] Of the four hours' private
conference that ensued with Napoleon we have but scanty records, and
those by Haugwitz himself, who had every reason for warping the truth.
He states that he was received with icy coldness, and at once saw that
the least threat of hostile pressure by Prussia would drive Napoleon
to make a separate peace with Austria. But after the first hour the
Emperor appeared to thaw: he discussed the question of a Continental
peace and laid aside all resentment at Prussia's conduct: finally, he
gave a general assent to her proposals, on two conditions, namely,
that the allied force then in Hanover should not be allowed by Prussia
to invade Holland, and that the French garrison in the fortress of
Hameln, now compassed about by Prussians, should be provisioned. To
both of these requests Haugwitz assented, and pledged the word of his
King, an act of presumption which that monarch was to repudiate.
While exceeding his instructions on this side, Haugwitz did
practically nothing to advance the chief business of his mission.
Either his own fears, or the crafty mixture of threats and flattery
that cajoled so many envoys, led him to neglect the interests of
Prussia, and to play into the hands of the very man whose ambition he
was sent to check. After the interview, when the envoy had retired to
his lodging, Caulaincourt came up in haste to warn him that a battle
was imminent, that his personal safety might be endangered, and that
Napoleon requested him to repair to Vienna, where he might consult
with Talleyrand on affairs of State. Horses and an escort were ready,
and Haugwitz set out for that city, where he arrived on November 30th,
only to find that Talleyrand was strictly forbidden to do more than
entertain him with commonplaces. Thus, the all-important question as
to the action of Prussia's legions was again postponed, even when
150,000 Prussians and Saxons were ready to march against the French
communications.
Napoleon's letter of November 30th to Talleyrand reveals his secret
anxiety at this time. In truth, the crisis was terrible. With a
superior force in front, with the Archdukes Ferdinand and Charles
threatening to raise Bohemia and Hungary on his flanks, while two
Prussian armies were about to throw themselves on his rear, his
position was fully as serious as that of Hannibal before Cannæ, from
which the Carthaginian freed himself only by that staggering blow. Did
that example inspire the French Emperor, or did he take counsel from
his own boundless resources of brain and will? Certain it is that,
after a passing fit of discouragement, he braced himself for a final
effort, and staked all on the effect of one mighty stroke. In order to
hurry on the battle he feigned discouragement and withdrew his lines
from Austerlitz to the Goldbach. Already he had sent General Savary to
the Czar with proposals for a short truce.[40] The word truce now
spelt guile; its offer through Savary, whose hands were stained with
the blood of the Duc d'Enghien, was in itself an insult, and Alexander
gave that envoy the coolest reception. In return he sent Prince
Dolgoruki, the leader of the bellicose youths now high in favour, who
proudly declared to the French Emperor the wishes of his master for
the independence of Europe--adding among other things that Holland
must be free and have Belgium added to it.
This suggestion greatly amused Napoleon, who replied that Russia ought
now to think of her own advantages on the side of Turkey. The answer
convinced the Czar that Napoleon dreaded a conflict in his dangerously
advanced position. He knew not his antagonist's resources. Napoleon
had hurried up every available regiment. Bernadotte's corps was
recalled from the frontier of Bohemia; Friant's division of 4,000 men
was ordered up from Pressburg; and by forced marches it also was nigh
at hand on the night of December 1st, worn with fatigue after covering
an immense space in two days, but ready to do excellent service on the
morrow.[41] By this timely concentration Napoleon raised his forces to
a total of at least 73,000 men, while the enemy founded their plan on
the assumption that Napoleon had less than 50,000, and would scarcely
resist the onset of superior forces.
Their plan was rash, even for an army which numbered about 80,000 men.
The Austrian General Weyrother had convinced the Czar that an
energetic advance of his left wing, which rested on the southern spurs
of the Pratzenberg, would force back Napoleon's right, which was
ranged between the villages of Kobelnitz and Sokelnitz, and so roll up
his long line that stretched beyond Schlapanitz. This move, if
successful, would not only win the day, but decide the campaign, by
cutting off the French from their supplies coming from the south and
driving them into the exhausted lands around Olmütz. Such was
Weyrother's scheme, which enchanted the Czar and moved the fears of
the veteran Kutusoff: it was expounded to the Russian and Austrian
generals after midnight on December the 2nd. Strong in the great
central hill, the Pratzenberg, and the cover of its village at the
foot, the Czar had no fear for his centre: to his right or northern
wing he gave still less heed, as it rested firmly on villages and was
powerful in cavalry and artillery; but his left wing, comprising fully
two-fifths of the allied army, was expected easily to defeat
Napoleon's weak and scattered right, and so decide the day. Kutusoff
saw the peril of massing so great a force there and weakening the
centre, but sadly held his peace.
Napoleon had already divined their secret. In his order of battle he
took his troops into his confidence, telling them that, while the
enemy marched to turn his right, they would expose their flank to his
blows. To announce this beforehand was strangely bold, and it has been
thought that he had the plan from some traitor on the enemy's staff.
No proof of this has been given; and such an explanation seems
superfluous to those who have observed Napoleon's uncanny power of
fathoming his adversary's designs. The idea of withdrawing one wing in
order to tempt the foe unduly to prolong his line on that side, and
then to crush it at the centre, or sever it from the centre, is common
both to Castiglione and Austerlitz. It is true, the peculiarities of
the ground, the ardour of the Russian attack, and the vastness of the
operations lent to the present conflict a splendour and a horror which
Castiglione lacked. But the tactics which won both battles were
fundamentally the same.
He had studied the ground in front of Austerlitz; and the priceless
gift of strategic imagination revealed to him what a rash and showy
leader would be certain to do on that ground;[42] he tempted him to
it, and the announcement of the enemy's plan to the French soldiery
supplied the touch of good comradeship which insured their utmost
devotion on the morrow. At midnight, as he returned from visiting the
outposts, the soldiers greeted him with a weird illumination: by a
common impulse they tore down the straw from their rude shelters and
held aloft the burning wisps on long poles, dancing the while in
honour of the short gray-coated figure, and shouting, "It is the
anniversary of the coronation. Long live the Emperor." Thus was the
great day ushered in. The welkin glowed with this tribute of an army's
heroworship: the frost-laden clouds echoed back the multitudinous
acclaim; and the Russians, as they swung forward their left, surmised
that, after all, the French would stand their ground and fight, whilst
others saw in the flare a signal that Napoleon was once more about to
retreat.
December the 2nd may well be the most famous day of the Napoleonic
calendar: it was the day of his coronation, it was the day of
Austerlitz, and, a generation later, another Napoleon chose it for his
_coup d'état_. The "sun of Austerlitz," which the nephew then hailed,
looked down on a spectacle far different from that which he wished to
gild with borrowed splendour. Struggling dimly through dense banks of
mist, it shone on the faces of 73,000 Frenchmen resolved to conquer or
to die: it cast weird shadows before the gray columns of Russia and
the white-coats of Austria as they pressed in serried ranks towards
the frozen swamps of the Goldbach. At first the allies found little
opposition; and Kienmayer's horse cleared the French from Tellnitz and
the level ground beyond. But Friant's division, hurrying up from the
west, restored the fight and drove the first assailants from the
village. Others, however, were pressing on, twenty-nine battalions
strong, and not all the tenacious bravery of Davoust's soldiery
availed to hold that spot. Nor was it necessary. Napoleon's plan was
to let the allied left compromise itself on this side, while he rained
the decisive blows at its joint with the centre on the southern spur
of the Pratzenberg.
For this reason he reduced Davoust to defensive tactics, for which his
stubborn methodical genius eminently fitted him, until the French
centre had forced the Russians from the plateau. Opposite or near that
height he had posted the corps of Soult and Bernadotte, supporting
them with the grenadiers of Oudinot and the Imperial Guard.
Confronting these imposing forces was the Russian centre, weakened by
the heavy drafts sent towards Tellnitz, but strong in its position and
in the experience of its leader Kutusoff. Caution urged him to hold
back his men to the last moment, until the need of giving cohesion to
the turning movement led the Czar impatiently to order his advance.
Scarcely had the Russians descended beyond Pratzen when they were
exposed to a furious attack. Vandamme, noted even then as one of the
hardest hitters in the army, was leading his division of Soult's corps
up the northern slopes of the plateau; by a sidelong slant his men cut
off a detachment of Russians in the village, and, aided by the brigade
of Thiébault, swarmed up the hill at a speed which surprised and
unsteadied its defenders. Oudinot's grenadiers and the Imperial Guard
were ready to sustain Soult: but the men of his corps had the glory of
seizing the plateau and driving back the Russians. Yet these returned
to the charge. Alexander and Kutusoff saw the importance of the
heights, and brought up a great part of their reserves. Soon the
divisions of Vandamme and St. Hilaire were borne back;
and it needed all the grand fighting powers of their troops to hold up
against the masses of howling Russians. For two hours the battle there
swayed to and fro; and Thiébault has censured Napoleon for the lack of
support, and Soult for his apathy, during this soldiers' battle.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ]
But the Emperor was awaiting the development of events on the wings. A
sharp fight of all arms was raging on the plain further to the north.
There the allies at first gained ground, the Austrian horse well
maintaining its old fame: but the infantry of Lannes' corps, supported
by powerful artillery ranged on a small conical hill, speedily checked
their charges; the French horse, marshalled by Murat and Kellermann
somewhat after the fashion of the British cavalry at Waterloo, so as
to support the squares and dash through the intervals in pursuit, soon
made most effective charges upon the dense squadrons of the allies,
and finally a general advance of Lannes and Murat overthrew the
wavering lines opposite and chased them back towards the small town of
Austerlitz.
Thus by noon the lines of fighting swerved till they ranged along the
course of the Littawa stream, save where the allies had thrust forward
a long and apparently successful wedge beyond Tellnitz. The Czar saw
the danger of this almost isolated wing, and sought to keep touch with
it; but the defects of the allied plan were now painfully apparent.
Napoleon, having the interior lines, while his foes were scattered
over an irregular arc, could reinforce his hard-pressed right. There
Davoust was being slowly borne back, when the march of Duroc with part
of the Imperial Guard restored the balance on that side. The French
centre also was strengthened by the timely arrival of part of
Bernadotte's corps. That Marshal detached a division towards the
northern slopes of the plateau; for he divined that there his master
would need every man to deal the final blows.[43]
In truth, Alexander and Kutusoff were struggling hard to regain the
Pratzenberg. Four times did the Muscovites fling themselves on the
French centre, and not without some passing gleams of success. Here
occurred the most famous cavalry fight of the war. The Russian Guards,
mounted on superb horses, had cut up two of Vandamme's battalions,
when Rapp rode to their rescue with the chasseurs of the French
Imperial Guard. These choice bodies of horsemen met with a terrible
shock, which threw the Russians into disorder. Rallied by other
squadrons, these now overthrew their assailants and seemed about to
overpower them, when Bessières with the heavy cavalry of the Guard
fell on the flank of the Muscovite horse and drove their lines, horse
and foot, into the valley beyond.
Assured of his centre, Napoleon now launched Soult's corps down the
south-western spurs of the plateau upon the flank and rear of the
allied left: this unexpected onset was decisive: the French, sweeping
down the slopes with triumphant shouts, cut off several battalions on
the banks of the Goldbach, scattered others in headlong flight towards
Brünn, and drove the greater part down to the Lake of Tellnitz. Here
the troubles of the allies culminated. A few gained the narrow marshy
gap between the two lakes; but dense bodies found no means of escape
save the frozen surface of the upper lake. In some parts the ice bore
the weight of the fugitives; but where they thronged pell-mell, or
where it was cut up by the plunging fire of the French cannon on the
heights, crowds of men sank to destruction. The victors themselves
stood aghast at this spectacle; and, for the credit of human nature be
it said, many sought to save their drowning foes. Among others, the
youthful Marbot swam to a floe to help bring a Russian officer to
land, a chivalrous exploit which called forth the praise of Napoleon.
The Emperor brought this glorious day to a fitting close by visiting
the ground most thickly strewn with his wounded, and giving directions
for their treatment or removal. As if satisfied with the victory, he
gave little heed to the pursuit. In truth, never since Marlborough cut
the Franco-Bavarian army in twain at Blenheim, had there been a battle
so terrible in its finale, and so decisive in its results as this of
the three Emperors, which cost the allies 33,000 men and 186 cannon.
The Emperors Alexander and Francis fled eastwards into the night.
Between them there was now a tacit understanding that the campaign was
at an end. On that night Francis sent proposals for a truce; and in
two days' time Napoleon agreed to an armistice (signed on December
6th) on condition that Francis would send away the Russian army and
entirely exclude that of Prussia from his territories. A contribution
of 100,000,000 francs was also laid upon the Hapsburg dominions. On
the next day Alexander pledged himself to withdraw his army at once;
and Francis proceeded to treat for peace with Napoleon. This was an
infraction of the treaties of the Third Coalition, which prescribed
that no separate peace should be made.
Under the circumstances, the conduct of the Hapsburgs was pardonable:
but the seeming break-up of the coalition furnished the Court of
Berlin with a good reason for declining to bear the burden alone. It
was not Austerlitz that daunted Frederick William; for, after hearing
of that disaster, he wrote that he would be true to his pledge given
on November 3rd. But then, on the decisive day (December 15th), came
the news of the defection of Austria, the withdrawal of Alexander's
army, and the closing of the Hapsburg lands to a Prussian force. These
facts absolved Frederick William from his obligations to those Powers,
and allowed him with perfect good faith to keep his sword in the
scabbard. The change, it is true, sadly dulled the warlike ardour of
his army; but it could not be called desertion of Russia and
Austria.[44] The disgrace came later, when, on Christmas Day, Haugwitz
reached Berlin, and described to the King and Ministers his interview
with Napoleon in the palace of Schönbrunn, and the treaty which the
victor then and there offered to Prussia at the sword's point.
For most men a great victory such as Austerlitz would have brought a
brief spell of rest, especially after the ceaseless toils and
anxieties of the previous fortnight. Yet now, after ridding himself of
all fear of Austria, Napoleon at once used every device of his subtle
statecraft to dissolve the nascent coalition. And Fortune had willed
that, when flushed with triumph, he should have to deal with a
timorous time-server.
It is the curse of a policy of keeping up a dainty balance in a
hurricane that it unmans the balancer, until at last the peacemaker
resembles a juggler. A decade of compromise and evasion of
difficulties had enfeebled the spirit of Prussia, until the hardest
trial for her King was to take any step that could not be retraced. He
had often spoken "feelingly, if not energetically," of the
predicaments of his position between France, England, and Russia.[45]
And, as in the case of that other _bon père de famille_, Louis XVI.,
whom Nature framed for a farmhouse and Fate tossed into a revolution,
his lack of foresight and resolution took the heart out of his
advisers and turned statesmen into trimmers. Even before the news of
Austerlitz reached the ears of Talleyrand and Haugwitz at Vienna, the
bearer of Prussia's ultimatum was posing as the friend of France. On
all occasions he wore the cordon of the Legion of Honour; and while
the hosts of East and West were in the death-grapple on the
Pratzenberg, he strove to convince the French Foreign Minister that
the Prussians had entered Hanover only in order to keep the peace in
North Germany; that, as Russians had traversed Prussian territory, the
French would, of course, be equally free to do so; that Frederick
William objected to the descent of any English force in Hanover, which
belonged _de facto_ to France; and finally that the Treaty of Potsdam
was not a treaty at all, but merely a declaration with the "offer of
Prussia's good offices and of mediation, but without any mingling of
hostile intentions." Well might Talleyrand write to Napoleon: "I am
very satisfied with M. Haugwitz."[46]
Napoleon's victory over Prussian diplomacy was therefore won, even
before the lightning-stroke of Austerlitz blasted the Third Coalition.
Haugwitz began his conference with the victor at Schönbrunn on
December 13th, by offering Frederick William's congratulations on his
triumph at Austerlitz, to which the Emperor replied by a sarcastic
query whether, if the result of that battle had been different, he
would have spoken at all about the friendship of his master.[47] After
thus disconcerting the envoy and upbraiding him with the Treaty of
Potsdam, Napoleon unmasked his battery by offering Prussia the
Electorate of Hanover in return for the comparatively petty sacrifices
of Ansbach to Bavaria, and Cleves and Neufchâtel to France. For the
loss of these outlying districts Prussia could buy that long-coveted
land.[48] The envoy was dazzled by this glittering offer, and by
others that followed. The conqueror proposed an offensive and
defensive alliance, whereby France and Prussia mutually guaranteed
their lands along with prospective additions in Germany and Italy; and
the Court of Berlin was also to uphold the independence of Turkey.
Such were the terms that Napoleon peremptorily required Haugwitz to
sign within a few hours: and the bearer of Prussia's ultimatum on
December 15th signed this Treaty of Schönbrunn, which degraded the
would-be arbitress of Europe to her former position of well-fed
follower of France. This was the news which Haugwitz brought back to
his astonished King. His reception was of the coolest; for Frederick
William was an honest man, who sought peace, prosperity, and the
welfare of his people, and now saw himself confronted by the
alternative of war or national humiliation. In truth, every turn and
double of his course was now leading him deeper into the discredit and
ruin which will be described in the next chapter.
Leaving for the present that unhappy King amidst his increasing
perplexities, we return to the affairs of Austria. Mack's disaster
alone had cast that Government into the depths of despair, and we
learn from Lord Gower, our ambassador at St. Petersburg, that he had
seen copies of letters written by the Emperor Francis to Napoleon
"couched in terms of humility and submission unworthy of a great
monarch," to which the latter replied in a tone of superiority and
affected commiseration, and with a demand for the Hapsburg lands in
Venetia and Swabia.[49]
The same tone of whining dejection was kept up by Cobenzl and other
Austrian Ministers, even before Austerlitz, when Prussia was on the
point of drawing the sword; and they sent offers of peace, when it was
rather for their foe to sue for it. After that battle, and, still more
so, after signing the armistice of December 6th, they were at the
conqueror's mercy; and Napoleon knew it. After probing the inner
weakness of the Berlin Court, he now pressed with merciless severity
on the Hapsburgs. He proposed to tear away their Swabian and Tyrolese
lands and their share of the spoils of Venice. In vain did the
Austrian plenipotentiaries struggle against these harsh terms,
pleading for Tyrol and Dalmatia, and pointing out the impossibility of
raising 100,000,000 francs from territories ravaged by war. In vain
did they proffer a claim to Hanover for one of their Archdukes: though
Talleyrand urged the advantage of this step as dissolving the
Anglo-Austrian alliance, yet Napoleon refused to hear of it; for at
that time he was offering that Electorate to Haugwitz.[50] Still less
would he hear a word in favour of the Court of Naples, whose conduct
had aroused his resentment. The utmost that the Austrian envoys could
wring from him was the reduction of the war contribution to 40,000,000
francs.
The terms finally arranged in the Treaty of Pressburg (December 26th,
1805) may be thus summarized: Austria recognized the recent
acquisitions and changes of title made by Napoleon in Italy, and ceded
to him her parts of Venetia, Istria, and Dalmatia. She recognized the
title of King now bestowed by Napoleon on the Electors of Bavaria and
Würtemberg, a change which was not to invalidate their membership of
the "Germanic Confederation." To those potentates and to the Elector
(now Grand Duke) of Baden, the Hapsburgs ceded all their scattered
Swabian domains, while Bavaria also gained Tyrol and Vorarlberg. As a
slight compensation for these grievous losses, Austria gained
Salzburg, whose Elector was to receive from Bavaria the former
principality of Würzburg. The domains and revenues of the Teutonic and
Maltese Orders were secularized, so as to furnish appanages to some
other princes of the Hapsburg House; and another blow was dealt at the
Germanic system by the declaration that Napoleon guaranteed the full
and entire sovereignty of the rulers of Bavaria, Würtemberg, and
Baden. In fact, as will appear in the next chapter, Napoleon now
usurped the place in Germany previously held by the Hapsburgs, and
extended his influence as far east as the River Inn, and, on the
south, down to the remote city of Ragusa on the Adriatic.
But it is one thing to win a brilliant diplomatic triumph, and quite
another thing to secure a firm and lasting peace. The Peace of
Pressburg raised Napoleon to heights of power never dreamt of by Louis
XIV.: but his pre-eminence was at best precarious. When by moderate
terms he might have secured the alliance of Austria and severed her
friendship with England, he chose to place his heel on her neck and
drive her to secret but irreconcilable hatred.
And his choice was deliberate. Two months earlier, Talleyrand had sent
him a memorandum on the subject of a Franco-Austrian alliance, which
is instinct with statesmanlike foresight. He stated that there were
four Great Powers--France, Great Britain, Russia, and Austria: he
excluded Prussia, whose rise to greatness under Frederick the Great
was but temporary. Austria, he claimed, must remain a Great Power. She
had opposed revolutionary France; but with Imperial France she had no
lasting quarrel. Rather did her manifest destiny clash with that of
Russia on the lower Danube, where the approaching break-up of the
Ottoman Power must bring those States into conflict. It was good
policy, then, to give a decided but friendly turn of Hapsburg policy
towards the east. Let Napoleon frankly approach the Emperor Francis
and say in effect: "I never sought this war with you, but I have
conquered: I wish to restore complete harmony between us: and, in
order to remove all causes of dispute, you must give up your Swabian,
Tyrolese, and Venetian lands: of these Tyrol shall fall to a prince of
your choice, and Venice (along with Trieste and Istria) shall form an
aristocratic Republic under a magistrate nominated in the first
instance by me. As a set-off to these losses, you shall receive
Moldavia, Wallachia, and northern Bulgaria. If the Russians object to
this and attack you, I will be your ally." Such was Talleyrand's
proposal.[51]
It is easy to criticise it in many details; but there can be little
doubt that its adoption by Napoleon would have laid a firmer
foundation for French supremacy than was afforded by the Treaties of
Pressburg and Tilsit. Austria would not have been deeply wounded, as
she now was by the transfer of her faithful Tyrolese to the detested
rule of Bavaria, and by the undisguised triumph of Napoleon in Italy
and along the Adriatic. Moreover, the erection of Tyrol and Venetia
into separate States would have been a wise concession to those
clannish societies; and Austria could not have taken up the
championship of outraged Tyrolese sentiment, which she assumed four
years later. Instead of figuring as the leader of German nationality,
she would have been on the worst of terms with the Czar over the
Eastern Question; and their discord would have enabled France to
dictate her own terms as to the partition of the Sultan's dominions.
Talleyrand had no specific for dissolving the traditional friendship
of England and Austria, and we may imagine the joy with which he heard
from the Hapsburg envoys the demand for Hanover, at a time when
English gold was pouring into the empty coffers at Vienna. Here was
the sure means of embroiling England and Austria for a generation at
least. But this further chance of preventing future coalitions was
likewise rejected by Napoleon, who deliberately chose to make Austria
a deadly foe, and to aggrandize her rival Prussia.[52]
Why did Napoleon reject Talleyrand's plan? Unquestionably, I think,
because he had resolved to build up a Continental System, which should
"hermetically seal" the coasts of Europe against English commerce. If
he was to realize those golden visions of his youth, ships, colonies,
and an Eastern empire, which, even amidst the glories of Austerlitz,
he placed far above any European triumph, he must extend his coast
system and subject or conciliate the maritime States. Of these the
most important were Prussia and Russia. The seaborne commerce of
Austria was insignificant, and could easily be controlled from his
vassal lands of Venetia and Dalmatia. To the would-be conqueror of
England the friendship or hatred of Austria seemed unimportant: he
preferred to depress this now almost land-locked Power, and to draw
tight the bonds of union with Prussia, always provided that she
excluded British goods.[53]
The same reason led him to hope for a Russian alliance. Only by the
help of Russia and Prussia could he shut England out from the Baltic;
and, to win that help, he destined Hanover for Prussia and the
Danubian States for the Czar. For the founder of the Continental
System such a choice was natural; but, viewed from the standpoint of
Continental politics, his treatment of Austria was a serious blunder.
His frightful pressure on her motley lands endowed them with a
solidity which they had never known before; and in less than four
years, the conqueror had cause to regret having driven the Hapsburgs
to desperation. It may even be questioned whether Austerlitz itself
was not a misfortune to him. Just before that battle he thought of
treating Austria leniently, taking only Verona and Legnago, and
exchanging Venetia against Salzburg. This would have detached her from
the Coalition, and made a friend of a Power that is naturally inclined
to be conservative.
After Austerlitz, he rushed to the other extreme and forced the
Hapsburgs to a hostility in which the Marie Louise marriage was only a
forced and uneasy truce. His motives are not, in my judgment, to be
assigned to mere lust of domination, but rather to a reasoned though
exaggerated conviction of the need of Prussia and Russia to his
Continental System. Above all things, he now sought to humble England,
so that finally he might be free for his long-deferred Oriental
enterprise. This is the irony of his career, that, though he preferred
the career of Alexander the Great to that of Cæsar; though he placed
his victory at Austerlitz far below the triumph of the great
Macedonian at Issus which assured the conquest of the Orient, yet he
felt himself driven to the very measures which tethered him to _cette
vieille Europe_ and which finally roused the Continent against him.
Among his errors of judgment, assuredly his behaviour to Austria in
1805 was not the least. The recent history of Europe supplies a
suggestive contrast. Two generations after Austerlitz, the Hapsburg
Power was shattered by the disaster of Königgrätz, and once more lost
all influence in Germany and Italy. But the victor then showed
consideration for the vanquished. Bismarck had pondered over the
lessons of history, because, as he said, _history teaches one how far
one may safely go_. He therefore persuaded King William to forego
claims that would have embittered the rivalry of Prussia and Austria.
Nay! he recurred to Talleyrand's policy of encouraging the Hapsburgs
to seek in the Balkan Peninsula compensation for their losses in the
west: and within fifteen years the basis of the Triple Alliance was
firmly laid. Napoleon, on the other hand, for lack of that
statesmanlike moderation which consecrates victory and cements the
fabric of an enduring Empire, soon saw the political results of
Austerlitz swept away by the rising tide of the nations' wrath. In
less than nine years the Austrians and their allies were masters of
Paris.
NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION.--The account given on p. 41 of the
drowning of numbers of Russians at the close of the Battle of
Austerlitz was founded upon the testimony of Napoleon and many
French generals; the facts, as related by Lejeune, seemed quite
convincing; the Czar Alexander also asserted at Vienna in 1815
that 20,000 Russians had been drowned there. But the local
evidence (kindly furnished to me by Professor Fournier of Vienna)
seems to prove that the story is a myth. Both lakes were drained
only a few days after the battle, _at Napoleon's orders_; in the
lower lake not a single corpse was found; in the upper lake 150
corpses of horses, but only two, some say three, of men, were
found. Probably Napoleon invented the catastrophe for the sake of
dramatic effect, and others followed the lead given in his
bulletin. The Czar may have adopted the story because it helped to
excuse his defeat. (See my article in the "Eng. Hist. Rev." for
July, 1902.)
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