THE FIRST SAXON CAMPAIGN
Despite the loss of the most splendid army ever marshalled by man,
Napoleon abated no whit of his resolve to dominate Germany and dictate
terms to Russia. At Warsaw, in his retreat, he informed De Pradt that
there was but one step from the sublime _to the ridiculous_, that is,
from the advance on Moscow to the retreat. At Dresden he called on his
allies, Austria and Prussia, to repel the Russians; and at Paris he
strained every nerve to call the youth of the Empire to arms. The
summons met with a ready response: he had but to stamp his foot when
the news from East Prussia looked ominous, and an array of 350,000
conscripts was promised by the Senate (January 10th).
In truth, his genius had enthralled the mind of France. The
magnificence of his aims, his hitherto triumphant energy, and the
glamour of his European supremacy had called forth all the faculties
of the French and Italian peoples, and set them pulsating with
ecstatic activity. He knew by instinct all the intricacies of their
being, which his genius controlled with the easy decisiveness of a
master-key. The rude shock of the Russian disaster served but to
emphasize the thoroughness of his domination, and the dumb
trustfulness of his forty-three millions of subjects.
And yet their patience might well have been exhausted. His military
needs had long ago drawn in levies the year before they were legally
liable; but the mighty swirl of the Moscow campaign now sucked 150,000
lads of under twenty years of age into the devouring vortex. In the
Dutch and German provinces of his Empire the number of those who
evaded the clutches of the conscription was very large. In fact, the
number of "refractory conscripts" in the whole realm amounted to
40,000. Large bands of them ranged the woods of Brittany and La
Vendée, until mobile columns were sent to sweep them into the
barracks.
But in nearly the whole of France (Proper), Napoleon's name was still
an unfailing talisman, appealing as it did to the two strongest
instincts of the Celt, the clinging to the soil and the passion for
heroic enterprise. Thus it came about that the peasantry gave up their
sons to be "food for cannon" with the same docility that was shown by
soldiers who sank death-stricken into a snowy bed with no word of
reproach to the author of their miseries. A like obsequiousness was
shown by the officials and legislators of France, who meekly listened
to the Emperor's reproaches for their weakness in the Malet affair,
and heard with mild surprise his denunciation against republican
idealogy--_the cloudy metaphysics to which all the misfortunes of our
fair France may be attributed_. No tongue dared to utter the retort
which must have fermented in every brain.[281]
But his explanations and appeals did not satisfy every Frenchman. Many
were appalled at the frightful drain on the nation's strength. They
asked in private how the deficit of 1812 and the further expenses of
1813 were to be met, even if he allotted the communal domains to the
service of the State. They pointed to allies ruined or lost; to Spain,
where Joseph's throne still tottered from the shock of Salamanca; to
Poland, lying mangled at the feet of the Muscovites; to Italy,
desolated by the loss of her bravest sons; to the Confederation of the
Rhine, equally afflicted and less resigned; to Austria and Prussia,
where timid sovereigns and calculating Courts alone kept the peoples
true to the hated French alliance. Only by a change of system, they
averred, could the hatred of Europe be appeased, and the formation of
a new and vaster Coalition avoided. Let Napoleon cease to force his
methods of commercial warfare on the Continent: let him make peace on
honourable terms with Russia, where the chief Minister, Romantzoff,
was ready to meet him halfway: let him withdraw his garrisons from
Prussian fortresses, soothe the susceptibilities of Austria--and
events would tend to a solid and honourable peace.
To all promptings of prudence Napoleon was deaf. His instincts and his
experience of the Kings prevented him yielding on any important point.
He determined to carry on the war from the Tagus to the Vistula, to
bolster up Joseph in Spain, to keep his garrisons fast rooted in every
fortress as far east as Danzig. Russia and Prussia, he said, had more
need of peace than France. If he began by giving up towns, they would
demand kingdoms, whereas by yielding nothing he would intimidate them.
And if they did form a league, their forces would be thinly spread out
over an immense space; he would easily dispose of their armies when
they were not aided by the climate; and a single victory would undo
the clumsy knot (_ce noeud mal assorti_).[282]
In truth, if he left Spain out of his count, the survey of the
military position was in many ways reassuring. England's power was
enfeebled by the declaration of war by the United States. In Central
Europe his position was still commanding. He held nearly all the
fortresses of Prussia, and though he had lost a great army, that loss
was spread out very largely over Poles, Germans, Italians, and smaller
peoples. Many of the best French troops and all his ablest generals
had survived. His Guard could therefore be formed again, and the
brains of his army were also intact. The war had brought to light no
military genius among the Russians; and all his past experience of the
"old coalition machines" warranted the belief that their rusty
cogwheels, even if oiled by English subsidies, would clank slowly
along and break down at the first exceptional strain. Such had been
the case at Marengo, at Austerlitz, at Friedland. Why should not
history repeat itself?
While he was guiding his steps solely by the light of past experience,
events were occurring that heralded the dawn of a new era for Central
Europe. On the 30th of December, the Prussian General Yorck, who led
the Prussian corps serving previously under Macdonald in Courland,
concluded the Convention of Tauroggen with the Russians, stipulating
that this corps should hold the district around Memel and Tilsit as
neutral territory, until Frederick William's decision should be known.
Strictly considered, this convention was a grave breach of
international law and an act of treachery towards Napoleon. The King
at first viewed it in that light; but to all his subjects it seemed a
noble and patriotic action. To continue the war with Russia for the
benefit of Napoleon would have been an act of political suicide.
Yet, for some weeks, Frederick William waited on events; and these
events decided for war, not against Russia, but against France. The
Prussian Chancellor, Hardenberg, did his best to hoodwink the French
at Berlin, and quietly to play into the hands of the ardent German
patriots. After publishing an official rebuke to Yorck, he secretly
sent Major Thile to reassure him. He did more: in order to rescue the
King from French influence, still paramount at Berlin, he persuaded
him to set out for Breslau, on the pretext of raising there another
contingent for service under Napoleon. The ruse completely succeeded:
it deceived the French ambassador, St. Marsan: it fooled even Napoleon
himself. With his now invariable habit of taking for granted that
events would march according to his word of command, the Emperor
assumed that this was for the raising of the corps of 30,000 men which
he had requested Frederick William to provide, and said to Prince
Hatzfeld (January 29th): "Your King is going to Breslau: I think it a
timely step." Such was Napoleon's frame of mind, even after he heard
of Yorck's convention with the Russians. That event he considered "the
worst occurrence that could happen." Yet neither that nor the
patriotic ferment in Prussia reft the veil from his eyes. He still
believed that the Prussians would follow their King, and that the King
would obey him. On February the 3rd he wrote to Maret, complaining
that 2,000 Prussian horsemen were shutting themselves up in Silesian
towns, "as if they were afraid of us, instead of helping us and
covering their country."
Once away from Berlin, Frederick William found himself launched on a
resistless stream of national enthusiasm. At heart he was no less a
patriot than the most ardent of the university students; but he knew
far better than they the awful risks of war with the French Empire.
His little kingdom of 4,700,000 souls, with but half-a-dozen
strongholds it could call its own, a realm ravaged by Napoleon's
troops alike in war and peace until commerce and credit were but a dim
memory--such a land could ill afford to defy an empire ten times as
populous and more than ten times as powerful. True, the Russians were
pouring in under the guise of friendship; but the bitter memories of
Tilsit forbade any implicit trust in Alexander. And, if the dross had
been burnt out of his nature by a year of fiery trial, could his army,
exhausted by that frightful winter campaign and decimated by the
diseases which Napoleon's ghastly array scattered broadcast in its
flight, ever hope, even with the help of Prussia's young levies, to
cope with the united forces of Napoleon and Austria?
For at present it seemed that the Court of Vienna would hold fast to
the French alliance. There Metternich was all-powerful, and the
keystone of his system was a guarded but profit-seeking subservience
to Napoleon. Not that the Emperor Francis and he loved the French
potentate; but they looked on him now as a pillar of order, as a
barrier against Jacobinism in France, against the ominous
pan-Germanism preached by Prussian enthusiasts, and against Muscovite
aggandizement in Turkey and Poland. Great was their concern, first at
the Russo-Turkish peace which installed the Muscovites at the northern
mouth of the Danube, and still more at the conquering swoops of the
Russian eagle on Warsaw and Posen. How could they now hope to gain
from Turkey the set-off to the loss of Tyrol and Illyria on which they
had recently been counting, and how save any of the Polish lands from
the grip of Russia? For the present Russia was more to be feared than
Napoleon. Her influence seemed the more threatening to the policy of
balance on which the fortunes of the Hapsburgs were delicately poised.
Only by degrees were these fears and jealousies laid to rest. It
needed all the address of a British envoy, Lord Walpole, who repaired
secretly to Vienna and held out the promise of tempting gains, to
assuage these alarms, and turn Austria's gaze once more on her lost
provinces, Tyrol, Illyria, and Venetia. For the present, however,
nothing came of these overtures; and when the French discovered
Walpole's presence at Vienna, Metternich begged him to leave.[283]
For the present, then, Austria assumed a neutral attitude. A truce was
concluded with Russia, and a special envoy was sent to Paris to
explain the desire of the Emperor Francis to act as mediator, with a
view to the conclusion of a general peace. The latest researches into
Austrian policy show that the Kaiser desired an honourable peace for
all parties concerned, and that Metternich may have shared his views.
But, early in the negotiations, Napoleon showed flashes of distrust as
to the sincerity of his father-in-law, and Austria gradually changed
her attitude. The change was to be fatal to Napoleon. But the question
whether it was brought about by Napoleon's obstinacy, or Metternich's
perfidy, or the force of circumstances, must be postponed for the
present, while we consider events of equal importance and of greater
interest.
While Austria balanced and Frederick William negotiated, the sterner
minds of North Germany rushed in on the once sacred ground of
diplomacy and statecraft. The struggle against Napoleon was prepared
for by the exile Stein, and war was first proclaimed by a professor.
Among the many influences that urged on the Czar to a war for the
liberation of Prussia and Europe, not the least was that wielded at
his Court in the latter half of 1812 by the staunch German patriot,
Stein. His heroic spirit never quailed, even in the darkest hour of
Prussia's humiliation; and he now pointed out convincingly that the
only sure means of overthrowing Napoleon was to raise Germany against
him. To remain on a tame defensive at Warsaw would be to court another
French invasion in 1813. The safety of Russia called for a pursuit of
the French beyond the Elbe and a rally of the Germans against the man
they detested. The appeal struck home. It revived Alexander's longings
for the liberation of Europe, which he had buried at Tilsit; and it
agreed with the promptings of an ambitious statecraft. Only by
overthrowing Napoleon's supremacy in Germany could the Czar gain a
free hand for a lasting settlement of the Polish Question. The eastern
turn given to his policy in 1807 was at an end--but not before Russia
had taken another step towards the Bosphorus. With one leg planted at
the mouth of the Danube, the Colossus now prepared to stride over
Central Europe. The aims of Catherine II. in 1792 were at last to be
realized. While Europe was wrestling with Revolutionary France, the
Muscovite grasp was to tighten on Poland. It is not surprising that
Alexander, on January 13th, commented on the "brilliance of the
present situation," or that he decided to press onward. He gave little
heed to the Gallophil counsels of Romantzoff or the dolorous warnings
of the German-hating Kutusoff; and, on January 18th, he empowered
Stein provisionally to administer in his name the districts of Prussia
(Proper) when occupied by Russian troops.
So irregular a proceeding could only be excused by dire necessity and
by success. It was more than excused; it was triumphantly justified.
Four days later Stein arrived at Königsberg, in company with the
patriotic poet, Arndt. The Estates, or Provincial Assemblies, of East
and West Prussia were summoned, and they heartily voted supplies for
forming a Landwehr or militia, as well as a last line of defence
called the Landsturm. This step, unique in the history of Prussia, was
taken apart from, almost in defiance of, the royal sanction: it was,
in fact, due to the masterful will of Stein, who saw that a great
popular impulse, and it alone, could overcome the inertia of King and
officials. That impulse he himself originated, and by virtue of powers
conferred on him by the Emperor Alexander. And the ball thus set
rolling at Königsberg was to gather mass and momentum until, thanks to
the powerful aid of Wellington in the South, it overthrew Napoleon at
Paris.
The action of the exile was furthered by the word of a thinker and
seer. A worthy professor at the University of Breslau, named Steffens,
had long been meditating on some means of helping his country. The
arrival of Frederick William had kindled a flame of devotion which
perplexed that modest and rather pedantic ruler. But he so far
responded to it as to allow Hardenberg to issue (February 3rd) an
appeal for volunteers to "reinforce the ranks of the old defenders of
the country." The appeal was entirely vague: it did not specify
whether they would serve against the nominal enemy, Russia, or the
real enemy, Napoleon. Pondering this weighty question, as did all good
patriots, Steffens heard, in the watches of the night, the voice of
conscience declare: "Thou must declare war against Napoleon." At his
early morning lecture on Physics, which was very thinly attended, he
told the students that he would address them at eleven on the call for
volunteers. That lecture was thronged; and to the sea of eager faces
Steffens spoke forth the thought that simmered in every brain, the
burning desire for _war with Napoleon_. He offered himself as a
recruit: 200 students from Breslau and 258 from the University of
Berlin soon flocked to the colours, and that, too, chiefly from the
classes which of yore had detested the army. Thanks to the teachings
of Fichte and the still deeper lessons of adversity, the mind of
Germany was now ranged on the side of national independence and
against an omnivorous imperialism.
Where the mind led the body followed, yet still somewhat haltingly. In
truth, the King and his officials were in a difficult position. They
distrusted the Russians, who seemed chiefly eager to force Frederick
William into war with France and to arrange the question of a frontier
afterwards. But the eastern frontier was a question of life and death
for Prussia. If Alexander kept the whole of the great Duchy of Warsaw,
the Hohenzollern States would be threatened from the east as
grievously as ever they were on the west by the French at Magdeburg.
And the Czar seemed resolved to keep the whole of Poland. He told the
Prussian envoy, Knesebeck, that, while handing over to Frederick
William the whole of Saxony, Russia must retain all the Polish lands,
a resolve which would have planted the Russian standards almost on the
banks of the Oder. Nay, more: Knesebeck detected among the Russian
officials a strong, though as yet but half expressed, longing for the
whole of Prussia east of the lower Vistula.
For his part, Frederick William cherished lofty hopes. He knew that
the Russian troops had suffered horribly from privations and disease,
that as yet they mustered only 40,000 effectives on the Polish
borders, and that they urgently needed the help of Prussia. He
therefore claimed that, if he joined Russia in a war against Napoleon,
he must recover the whole of what had been Prussian Poland, with the
exception of the district of Bialystock ceded at Tilsit.[284] It
seemed, then, that the Polish Question would once more exert on the
European concert that dissolving influence which had weakened the
Central Powers ever since the days of Valmy. Had Napoleon now sent to
Breslau a subtle schemer like Savary, the apple of discord might have
been thrown in with fatal results. But the fortunes of his Empire then
rested on a Piedmontese nobleman, St. Marsan, who showed a singular
credulity as to Prussia's subservience. He accepted all Hardenberg's
explanations (including a thin official reproof to Steffens), and did
little or nothing to countermine the diplomatic approaches of Russia.
The ground being thus left clear, it was possible for the Czar to
speak straight to the heart of Frederick William. This he now did.
Knesebeck was set aside; and Alexander, meeting the Prussian demands
halfway, promised in a treaty, signed at Kalisch on February 27th, to
leave Prussia all her present territories, and to secure for her the
equivalent, in a "statistical, financial, and geographical sense," of
the lands which she had lost since 1806, along with a territory
adapted to connect Prussia Proper with the province of Silesia.[285]
It seems certain that Stein's influence weighed much with Alexander in
this final compromise, which postponed the irritating question of the
eastern frontier and bent all the energies of two great States to the
War of Liberation. Stein was sent to Frederick William at Breslau; but
the King hardly deigned to see him, and the greatest of German
patriots was suffered to remain in a garret of that city during a
wearisome attack of fever. But he lived through disease and official
neglect as he triumphed over Slavonic intrigues; and he had at hand
that salve of many an able man--the knowledge that, even while he
himself was slighted, his plans were adopted with beneficent and
far-reaching results.
The Russo-Prussian alliance was firmly upheld by Lord Cathcart, the
British ambassador to Russia, who reached headquarters on March the
2nd. For the present, Great Britain did not definitely join the
allies; but the discussions on the Hanoverian Question, which had
previously sundered us from Prussia, soon proved that wisdom had been
learnt in the school of adversity. The Hohenzollerns now renounced all
claims to Hanover, though they showed some repugnance to our
Prince-Regent's demand that the Electorate should receive some
territorial gain.
Thus the two questions on which Napoleon had counted as certain to
clog the wheels of the Coalition, as they had done in the past, were
removed, and the way was cleared for a compact firmer than any which
Europe had hitherto known. On March 17th a Russo-Prussian Convention
was concluded at Breslau whereby those Powers agreed to deliver
Germany from France, to dissolve the Confederation of the Rhine, and
to summon the German princes and people to help them; every prince
that refused would suffer the loss of his States; and arrangements
were made for the provisional administration of the lands which the
allies should occupy. Frederick William also appealed to his people
and to his army, and instituted that coveted order of merit, the Iron
Cross.
But there was small need of appeals and decorations. The people rushed
to arms with an ardour that rivalled the _levée en masse_ of France in
1793. Nobles and students, professors and peasants, poets and
merchants, shouldered their muskets. Housewives and maidens brought
their scanty savings or their treasured trinkets as offerings for the
altar of the Fatherland. One incident deserves special notice. A girl,
Nanny by name, whose ringlets were her only wealth, shore them off,
sold them, and brought the price of them, two thalers, for the sacred
cause. A noble impulse thrilled through Germany. Volunteers came from
far, many of whom were to ride with Lützow's irregular horse in his
wild ventures. Most noteworthy of these was the gifted young poet,
Korner, a Saxon by birth, who now forsook a life of ease, radiant with
poetic promise, at the careless city of Vienna, to follow the Prussian
eagle. "A great time calls for great hearts," he wrote to his father:
"am I to write vaudevilles when I feel within me the courage and
strength for joining the actors on the stage of real life?" Alas! for
him the end was to be swift and tragic. Not long after inditing an ode
to his sword, he fell in a skirmish near Hamburg.
Germany mourned his loss; but she mourned still more that her greatest
poet, Goethe, felt no throb of national enthusiasm. The great Olympian
was too much wrapped up in his lofty speculations to spare much
sympathy for struggling mortals below: "Shake your chains, if you
will: the man (Napoleon) is too strong for you: you will not break
them." Such was his unprophetic utterance at Dresden to the elder
Korner. Men who touched the people's pulse had no such doubts. "Ah!
those were noble times," wrote Arndt: "the fresh young hope of life
and honour sang in all hearts; it echoed along every street; it rolled
majestically down every chancel." The sight of Germans thronging from
all parts into Silesia to fight for their Prussian champions awakened
in him the vision of a United Germany, which took form in the song,
"What is the German's Fatherland?"[286]
Against this ever-rising tide of national enthusiasm Napoleon pitted
the resources which Gallic devotion still yielded up to his demands.
They were surprisingly great. In less than half a year, after the loss
of half a million of men, a new army nearly as numerous was marshalled
under the imperial eagles. Thirty thousand tried troops were brought
from Spain, thereby greatly relieving the pressure on Wellington.
Italy and the garrison towns of the Empire sent forth a vast number.
But the majority were young, untrained troops; and it was remarked
that the conscripts born in the years of the Terror, 1793-4, had not
the stamina of the earlier levies. Brave they were, superbly brave;
and the Emperor sought by every means to breathe into them his own
indomitable spirit. One of them has described how, on handing them
their colours, he made a brief speech; and, at the close, rising in
his stirrups and stretching forth his hand, he shot at them the
question: "'You swear to guard them?' I felt, as we all felt, that he
snatched from our very navel the cry, 'Yes, we swear.'" Truly, the
Emperor could make boys heroes, but he could never repair the losses
of 1812. Guns he possessed to the number of a thousand in his
arsenals; but he lacked the thousands of skilled artillerymen: youths
he could find and horses he could buy: but not for many a month had he
the resistless streams of horsemen that poured over Prussia after
Jena, or swept into the Great Redoubt at Borodino. Nevertheless, the
energy which embattled a new host within five months of a seemingly
overwhelming disaster, must be considered the most extraordinary event
of an age fertile in marvels. "The imagination sinks back confounded,"
says Pasquier, "when one thinks of all the work to be done and the
resources of all kinds to be found, in order to raise, clothe, and
equip such an army in so short a time."
While immersed in this prodigious task, the Emperor heard, with some
surprise but with no dismay, the news of Prussia's armaments and
disaffection. At first he treats it as a passing freak which will
vanish with firm treatment. "Remain at Berlin as long as you can," he
writes to Eugène, March 5th. "Make examples for the sake of
discipline. At the least insult, whether from a village or a town,
were it from Berlin itself, burn it down." The chief thing that still
concerns him is the vagueness of Eugène's reports, which leave him no
option but to get news about his troops in Germany from _the English
newspapers_. "Do not forget," he writes again on March 14th, "that
Prussia has only four millions of people. She never in her most
prosperous times had more than 150,000 troops. She will not have more
than 40,000 now." That, indeed, was the number to which he had limited
her after Tilsit; and he was unable to conceive that Scharnhorst's
plan of passing men into a reserve would send triple that force into
the field.[287] As for the Russians, he writes, they are thinned by
disease, and must spread out widely in order to besiege the many
fortresses between the Vistula and the Elbe. Indeed, he assures his
ally, the King of Bavaria, that it will be good policy to let them
advance: "The farther they advance, the more certain is their ruin."
Sixty thousand troops were being led by Bertrand from Italy into
Bavaria.[288] These, along with the corps of Eugène and Davoust, would
crush the Russian columns. And, while the allies were busy in Saxony,
Napoleon proposed to mass a great force under the shelter of the Harz
Mountains, cross the Elbe near Havelberg, make a rush for the relief
of Stettin, and stretch a hand to the large French force beleaguered
at Danzig.
Such was his first plan. It was upset by the rapidity of the Cossacks
and the general uprising of Prussia. Augereau's corps was driven from
Berlin by a force of Cossacks led by Tettenborn; and this daring free
lance, a native of Hamburg, thereupon made a dash for the liberation
of his city. For the time he was completely successful: the fury of
the citizens against the French _douaniers_ gave the Cossacks and
patriots an easy triumph there and throughout Hanover. This news
caused Napoleon grave concern. The loss of the great Hanse Town opened
a wide door for English goods, English money, and English troops into
Germany. It must be closed at all costs: and, with severe rebukes to
Eugène and Lauriston, who were now holding the line of the middle
Elbe, he charged Davoust (March 18th) to hold the long winding course
of that river between Magdeburg and Hamburg. The advance of this
determined leader was soon to change the face of affairs in North
Germany.
Shortly before Napoleon left Paris for the seat of war, he received
the new Austrian ambassador, Prince Schwarzenberg (April 9th). With a
jocular courtesy that veiled the deepest irony, he complimented him on
having waged _a fine campaign in_ 1812. Austria's present requests
were not reassuring. While professing the utmost regard for the
welfare of Napoleon, she renewed her offer of mediation in a more
pressing way. In fact, Metternich's aim now was to free Austria from
the threatening pressure of Napoleon on the west and of Russia on the
east. She must now assure to Europe a lasting peace--"not a mere truce
in disguise, like all former treaties with Napoleon"--but a peace that
would restrict the power of France and "establish a balance of power
among the chief States."[289] Such was the secret aim of Austria's
mediation. Obviously, it gave her many advantages. While posing as
mediator, she could claim her share in the territorial redistribution
which must accompany the peace. The blessing awarded to the peacemaker
must be tangible and immediate.
Napoleon's reply to the ambassador was carefully guarded. War was not
to his interest. It would cost more blood than the Moscow campaign.
The great hindrance to any settlement would be England. Russia also
seemed disposed to a fight _à outrance_; but if the Czar wanted peace,
it was for him, not for France, to take the initiative: "I cannot take
the initiative: that would be like capitulating as if I were in a
fort: it is for the others to send me their proposals." And he
expressed his resolve to accept no disadvantageous terms in these
notable words: "If I concluded a dishonourable peace, it would be my
overthrow. I am a new man; I must pay the more heed to public opinion,
because I stand in need of it. The French have lively imaginations:
they love fame and excitement, and are nervous. Do you know the prime
cause of the fall of the Bourbons? It dates from Rossbach." Benevolent
assurances as to Napoleon's desire for peace and for the assembly of a
Congress were all that Schwarzenberg could gain; and his mission was
barren of result, except to increase suspicions on both sides.
In fact, Napoleon was playing his cards at Vienna. He had sent Count
Narbonne thither on a special mission, the purport of which stands
revealed in the envoy's "verbal note" of April 7th. In that note
Austria was pressed to help France with 100,000 men, against Russia
and Prussia, in case they should open hostilities; her reward was to
be the rich province of Silesia. As for the rest of Prussia, two
millions of that people were to be assigned to Saxony, Frederick
William being thrust to the east of the lower Vistula, and left with
one million subjects.[290] Such was the glittering prize dangled
before Metternich. But even the prospect of regaining the province
torn away by the great Frederick moved him not. He judged the
establishment of equilibrium in Europe to be preferable to a mean
triumph over Prussia. To her and to the Czar he had secretly held out
hopes of succour in case Napoleon should prove intractable: and to
this course of action he still clung. True, he trampled on _la petite
morale_ in neglecting to aid his nominal ally, Napoleon. But to
abandon him, if he remained obdurate, was, after all, but an act of
treachery to an individual who had slight claims on Austria, and whose
present offer was alike immoral and insulting. Four days later
Metternich notified to Russia and Prussia that the Emperor Francis
would now proceed with his task of armed mediation.[291]
Austria's overtures for a general peace met with no encouragement at
London. Her envoy, Count Wessenberg, was now treated with the same
cold reserve that had been accorded to Lord Walpole at Vienna early in
the year. On April 9th Castlereagh informed him that all hope of peace
had failed since the "Ruler of France" had declared to the Legislative
Body that _the French Dynasty reigned and would continue to reign in
Spain, and that he had already stated all the sacrifices that he could
consent to make for peace_.
"Whilst he [Napoleon] shall continue to declare that none of the
territories arbitrarily incorporated into the French Empire shall
become matter of negotiation, it is in vain to hope that His
Imperial Majesty's beneficent intentions can by negotiation be
accomplished. It is for His Imperial Majesty to consider, after a
declaration in the nature of a defiance from the Ruler of France,
a declaration highly insulting to His Imperial Majesty when his
intervention for peace had been previously accepted, whether the
moment is not arrived for all the Great Powers of Europe to act in
concert for their common interests and honour. To obtain for their
States what may deserve the name of peace they must look again to
establish an Equilibrium in Europe."
Finally, the British Government refused to lend itself to a
negotiation which must weaken and distract the efforts of Russia and
Prussia.[292]
For the present Napoleon indulged the hope that the bribe of Silesia
would range Austria's legions side by side with his own, and with
Poniatowski's Poles. Animated with this hope, he left Paris before the
dawn of April 15th; and, travelling at furious speed, his carriage
rolled within the portals of Mainz in less than forty hours. There he
stayed for a week, feeling every throb of the chief arteries of his
advance. They beat full and fast; the only bad symptom was the refusal
of Saxony to place her cavalry at his disposal. But, at the close of
the week, Austria's attitude gave him concern. It was clear that she
had not swallowed the bait of Silesia, and that her troops could not
be counted on.
At once he takes precautions. His troops in Italy are to be made
ready, the strongholds of the Upper Danube strengthened, and his
German vassals are closely to watch the policy of Vienna.[293] He then
proceeds to Weimar. There, on April 29th, he mounts his war-horse and
gazes with searching eyes into the columns that are winding through
the Thuringian vales towards Leipzig. The auguries seem favourable.
The men are full of ardour: the line of march is itself an
inspiration; and the veterans cheer the young conscripts with tales of
the great day of Jena and Auerstadt.
At the close of April the military situation was as follows. Eugène
Beauharnais, who commanded the relics of the Grand Army, after
suffering a reverse at Mockern, had retired to the line of the Elbe;
and French garrisons were thus left isolated in Danzig, Modlin,
Zamosc, Glogau, Küstrin, and Stettin.[294] Napoleon's first plan of an
advance direct to Stettin and Danzig having miscarried, he now sought
to gather an immense force as secretly as possible near the Main,
speedily to reinforce Eugène, crush the heads of the enemy's columns,
and, rolling them up in disorder, carry the war to the banks of the
Oder, and relieve his beleaguered garrisons by way of Leipzig and
Torgau. The plan would have the further advantage of bringing a
formidable force near to the Austrian frontier, and holding fast the
Hapsburgs and Saxons to the French alliance.
Meanwhile the allied army was pressing westwards with no less
determination. The Czar and King had addressed a menacing summons to
the King of Saxony to join them, but, receiving no response, invaded
his States. Thereupon Frederick Augustus fled into Bohemia, relying on
an offer from Vienna which guaranteed him his German lands if he would
join the Hapsburgs in their armed mediation.[295] For the present,
however, Saxony was to be the battlefield of the two contending
principles of nationality and Napoleonic Imperialism.
They clashed together on the historic ground of Lützen. Not only the
associations of the place, but the reputation of the leaders helped to
kindle the enthusiasm of the rank and file. On the one side was the
great conqueror himself, with faculties and prestige undimmed even by
the greatest disaster recorded in the annals of civilized nations. He
was opposed by men no less determined than himself. The illness and
finally the death of the obstinate old Kutusoff had stopped the
intrigues of the Slav peace party, hitherto strong in the Russian
camp: and the command now devolved on Wittgenstein, a more energetic
man, whose heart was in his work.
But the most inspiring influence was that of Blücher. The staunch
patriot seemed to embody the best qualities of the old _régime_ and of
the new era. The rigour learnt in the school of Frederick the Great
was vivified by the fresh young enthusiasm of the dawning age of
nationality. Not that the old soldier could appreciate the lofty
teachings of Fichte the philosopher and Schleiermacher the preacher.
But his lack of learning--he could never write a despatch without
strange torturings of his mother-tongue--was more than made up by a
quenchless love of the Fatherland, by a robust common sense, which hit
straight at the mark where subtler minds strayed off into side issues,
by a comradeship that endeared him to every private, and by a courage
that never quailed. And all these gifts, homely but invaluable in a
people's war, were wrought to utmost tension by an all-absorbing
passion, hatred of Napoleon. In the dark days after Jena, when,
pressed back to the Baltic, his brave followers succumbed to the
weight of numbers, he began to store up vials of fury against the
insolent conqueror. Often he beguiled the weary hours with lunging at
an imaginary foe, calling out--_Napoleon_. And this almost Satanic
hatred bore the old man through seven years of humiliation; it gave
him at seventy-two years of age the energy of youth; far from being
sated by triumphs in Saxony and Champagne, it nerved him with new
strength after the shocks to mind and body which he sustained at
Ligny; it carried him and his army through the miry lanes of Wavre on
to the sunset radiance of Waterloo.
What he lacked in skill and science was made up by his able
coadjutors, Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, the former pre-eminent in
organization, the latter in strategy. After organizing Prussia's
citizen army, it was Scharnhorst's fate to be mortally wounded in the
first battle; but his place, as chief of staff, was soon filled by
Gneisenau, in whose nature the sternness of the warrior was happily
blended with the coolness of the scientific thinker. The accord
between him and Blücher was close and cordial; and the latter, on
receiving the degree of doctor of laws from the University of Oxford,
wittily acknowledged his debt to the strategist. "Well," said he, "if
I am to be a doctor, they must make Gneisenau an apothecary; for he
makes up the pills and I then administer them."
On these resolute chiefs and their 33,000 Prussians fell the brunt of
the fighting near Lützen. Wittgenstein, with his 35,000 Russians,
showed less energy; but if a fourth Russian corps under Miloradovitch,
then on the Elster, had arrived in time, the day might have closed
with victory for the allies. Their plan was to cross a stream, called
the Floss Graben, some five miles to the south of Lützen, storm the
villages of Gross Görschen, Rahna, and Starsiedel, held by the French
vanguard, and, cutting into Napoleon's line of march towards Lützen
and Leipzig, throw it into disorder and rout. But their great enemy
had recently joined his array to that of Eugène: he was in force, and
was then planning a turning movement on the north, similar to that
which threatened his south flank. Ney, on whom fell Blücher's first
blows, had observed the preparations, and one of his divisions, that
of Souham, had strengthened the village of Gross Görschen for an
obstinate defence. The French position is thus described by Lord
Cathcart, who was then present at the allied headquarters:
"The country is uncovered and open, but with much variety of hill
and valley, and much intersected by hollow ways and millstreams,
the former not discernible till closely approached. The enemy,
placed behind a long ridge and in a string of villages, with a
hollow way in front, and a stream sufficient to float timber on
the left, waited the near approach of the allies. He had an
immense quantity of ordnance: the batteries in the open country
were supported by masses of infantry in solid squares. The plan of
our operations was to attack Gross Görschen with artillery and
infantry, and meanwhile to pierce the line, to the enemy's right
of the villages, with a strong column of cavalry in order to cut
off the troops in the villages from support.... The cavalry of the
Prussian Reserve, to whose lot this attack fell, made it with
great gallantry; but the showers of grapeshot and musketry to
which they were exposed in reaching the hollow way made it
impracticable for them to penetrate; and, the enemy appearing
determined to hold the villages at any expense, the affair assumed
the most expensive character of attack and defence of a post
repeatedly taken, lost, and retaken. The cavalry made several
attempts to break the enemy's line, and in some of their attacks
succeeded in breaking into the squares and cutting down the
infantry. Late in the evening, Bonaparte, having called in the
troops from [the side of] Leipzig and collected all his reserves,
made an attack on the right of the allies, supported by the fire
of several batteries advancing. The vivacity of this movement made
it expedient to change the front of our nearest brigades on our
right; and, as the whole cavalry from our left was ordered to the
right to turn this attack, I was not without hopes of witnessing
the destruction of Bonaparte and of all his army; but before the
cavalry could arrive, it became so dark that nothing could be seen
but the flashes of the guns."[296]
The desperate fight thus closed with a slight advantage to the French,
due to the timely advance of Eugène with Macdonald's corps against the
right flank of the wearied allies, when it was too late for them to
make any counter-move. These had lost severely, and among the fallen
was Scharnhorst, whose wound proved to be mortal. But Blücher, far
from being daunted by defeat or by a wound, led seven squadrons of
horse against the victors after nightfall, threw them for a brief
space into a panic, and nearly charged up to the square which
sheltered Napoleon. The Saxon Captain von Odeleben, who was at the
French headquarters, states that the Emperor was for a few minutes
quite dazed by the daring of this stroke; and he now had too few
squadrons to venture on any retaliation. Both sides were, in fact,
exhausted. The allies had lost 10,000 men killed and wounded, but no
prisoners or guns: the French losses were nearly as heavy, and five
guns and 800 prisoners fell into Blücher's hands. Both armies camped
on the field of battle; but, as the supplies of ammunition of the
allies had run low, and news came to hand that Lauriston had dislodged
Kleist from Leipzig, it was decided to retreat towards Dresden.
Napoleon cautiously followed them, leaving behind Ney's corps, which
had suffered frightfully at Gross Görschen; and he strove to inspirit
the conscripts, many of whom had shown unsteadiness, by proclaiming to
the army that the victory of Lützen would rank above Austerlitz, Jena,
Friedland, and Borodino.
Far from showing dejection, Alexander renewed to Cathcart his
assurance of persevering in the war. At Dresden our envoy was again
assured (May 7th) that the allies would not give in, but that "Austria
will wear the cloak of mediation till the time her immense force is
ready to act, the 24th instant. Count Stadion is hourly expected here:
he will bring proposals of terms of peace and similar ones will be
sent to the French headquarters. Receiving and refusing these
proposals will occupy most of the time." In fact, Metternich was on
the point of despatching from Vienna two envoys, Stadion to the
allies, Count Bubna to Napoleon, with the offer of Austria's armed
mediation.
It found him in no complaisant mood. He had entered Dresden as a
conqueror: he had bitterly chidden the citizens for their support of
the Prussian volunteers, and ordered them to beg their own King to
return from Bohemia. To that hapless monarch he had sent an imperious
mandate to come back and order the Saxon troops, who obstinately held
Torgau, forthwith to hand it over to the French. On all sides his
behests were obeyed, the Saxon troops grudgingly ranging themselves
under the French eagles. And while he was tearing Saxony away from the
national cause, he was summoned by Austria to halt. The victor met the
request with a flash of defiance. After a reproachful talk with Bubna,
on May 17th, he wrote two letters to the Emperor Francis. In the more
official note he assured him that he desired peace, and that he
assented to the opening of a Congress with that aim in view, in which
England, Russia, Prussia, and even the Spanish insurgents might take
part. He therefore proposed that an armistice should be concluded for
the needful preparations. But in the other letter he assured his
father-in-law that he was ready to die at the head of all the generous
men of France rather than become the sport of England. His resentment
against Austria finds utterance in his despatch of the same day, in
which he bids Caulaincourt seek an interview at once with the Czar:
"The essential thing is to have a talk with him.... My intention is to
build him a golden bridge so as to deliver him from the intrigues of
Metternich. If I must make sacrifices, I prefer to make them to a
straightforward enemy, rather than to the profit of Austria, which
Power has betrayed my alliance, and, under the guise of mediator,
means to claim the right of arranging everything." Caulaincourt is to
remind Alexander how badly Austria behaved to him in 1812, and to
suggest that if he treats at once before losing another battle, he can
retire with honour and _with good terms for Prussia, without any
intervention from Austria_.
His other letters of this time show that it is on the Hapsburgs that
his resentment will most heavily fall. Eugène, who had recently
departed to organize the forces in Italy, is urged to threaten Austria
with not fewer than 80,000 men, and to give out that he will soon have
150,000 men under arms. And, while straining every nerve in Germany,
France, and Italy, Napoleon asserts that there will be an armistice
for the conclusion of a general peace.[297] But the allies were not to
be duped into a peace that was no peace. They had good grounds for
expecting the eventual aid of Austria; and when Caulaincourt craved an
interview, the Czar refused his request, thus bringing affairs once
more to the arbitrament of the sword. The only effect of
Caulaincourt's mission, and of Napoleon's bitter words to Bubna, was
to alarm Austria.
On their side, the allies desired to risk no further check; and they
had therefore taken up a strong position near Bautzen, where they
could receive reinforcements and effectually cover Silesia. Their
extreme left rested on the spurs of the Lusatian mountains, while
their long front of some four miles in extent stretched northwards
along a ridge that rose between the River Spree and an affluent, and
bent a convex threatening brow against that river and town. There they
were joined by Barclay, whose arrival brought their total strength to
82,000 men. But again Napoleon had the advantage in numbers. Suddenly
calling in Ney's and Lauriston's force of 60,000 men, which had been
sent north so as to threaten Berlin, he confronted the allies with at
least 130,000 men.[298]
On the first day of fighting (May 20th) the French seized the town of
Bautzen, but failed to drive the allies from the hilly, wooded ground
on the south. The fighting on the next day was far more serious. At
dawn of a beautiful spring morning, in a country radiant with verdure
and diversified by trim villages, the thunder of cannon and the
sputter of skirmishers' lines presaged a stubborn conflict. The allied
sovereigns from the commanding ridge at their centre could survey all
the enemy's movements on the hills opposite; and our commissary,
Colonel (afterwards Sir Hudson) Lowe, has thus described his view of
Napoleon, who was near the French centre:
"He was about fifty paces in front of the others, accompanied by
one of his marshals, with whom he walked backwards and forwards
for nearly an hour. He was dressed in a plain uniform coat and a
star [_sic_], with a plain hat, different from that of his
marshals and generals, which was feathered. In the rear, and to
the left of the ridge on which he stood, were his reserves. They
were formed in lines of squadrons and battalions, appearing like a
large column of battalions: their number must have been between
15,000 and 20,000.
After he had retired from the eminence, several of the battalions
were observed to be drawn off to his left, and to be replaced by
others from the rear: the masses of his reserves appeared to
suffer scarcely any diminution.... Those troops which were to act
against our right continued their march: the others, opposite our
centre, planted themselves about midway on the slope, which
descended from the ridge towards our position; and, under the
protection of the guns that crowned the ridge, they appeared to
set our cavalry at defiance.... Yet there was no forward movement
in that part. To turn and overthrow our flanks, particularly the
right one, appeared now to be their main object."
This was the case. Napoleon was employing his usual tactics of
assailing the allies everywhere by artillery and musketry fire, so as
to keep them in their already very extended position until he could
deliver a decisive blow. This was dealt, though somewhat tardily, by
Ney with his huge corps at the allied right, where Barclay's 5,000
Russians were outmatched and driven back. The village of Preititz was
lost, and with it the allies' communications were laid bare. It was of
the utmost importance to recover the village; and Blücher, at the
right centre, hard pressed though he was, sent down Kleist's brigade,
which helped to wrench the prize from that Marshal's grasp. But Ney
was too strong to be kept off, even by the streams of cannon-shot
poured upon his dense columns. With the help of Lauriston's corps, he
again slowly pressed on, began to envelop the allies' right, and
threatened to cut off their retreat. Blücher was also furiously
assailed by Marmont and Bertrand. On the left, it is true, the
Russians had beaten back Oudinot with heavy loss; but, as Napoleon had
not yet seriously drawn on his reserves, the allied chiefs decided to
draw off their hard-pressed troops from this unequal contest, where
victory was impossible and delay might place everything in jeopardy.
The retirement began late in the afternoon. Covered by the fire of a
powerful artillery from successive crests, and by the charges of their
dauntless cavalry, the allies beat off every effort of the French to
turn the retreat into a rout. In vain did Napoleon press the pursuit.
As at Lützen, he had cause to mourn the loss in the plains of Russia
of those living waves that had swept his enemies from many a
battlefield. But now their columns refused to melt away. They filed
off, unbroken and defiant, under the covering wings of Uhlans and
Cossacks.[299]
The next day witnessed the same sight, the allies drawing steadily
back, showering shot from every post of vantage, and leaving not a
prisoner or a caisson in the conquerors' hands. "What!" said Napoleon,
"after such a butchery, no results? no prisoners?" Scarcely had he
spoken these words, when a cannon-ball tore through his staff, killing
one general outright, wounding another, and shattering the frame of
Duroc, Duc de Friuli. Napoleon was deeply affected by this occurrence.
He dismounted, went into the cottage where Duroc was taken, and for
some time pressed his hand in silence. Then he uttered the words:
"Duroc, there is another world where we shall meet again." To which
the Grand Marshal made reply: "Yes, sire; but it will be in thirty
years, when you have triumphed over your enemies and realized all the
hopes of your country." After a long pause of painful silence, the
Emperor mournfully left the man for whom he felt, perhaps, the
liveliest sympathy and affection he ever bestowed. Under Duroc's cold,
reserved exterior the Emperor knew that there beat a true heart,
devoted and loyal ever since they had first met at Toulon. He received
no one else for the rest of that night, and a hush of awe fell on the
camp at the unwonted signs of grief of their great leader.
Possibly this loss strengthened the Emperor's desire for a truce, a
feeling not lessened by a mishap befalling one of his divisions, which
fell into an ambush laid by the Prussians at Hainau, and lost 1,500
men and 18 guns.
For their part, the allies equally desired a suspension of arms. Their
forces were in much confusion. Alexander had superseded Wittgenstein
by Barclay, who now insisted on withdrawing the Russians into Poland.
To this the Prussian staff offered the most strenuous resistance. Such
a confession of weakness, urged Müffling, would dishearten the troops
and intimidate the Austrian statesmen who had promised speedy succour.
Let the allies cling to the sheltering rampart of the Riesengebirge,
where they might defy Napoleon's attacks and await the white-coats.
The fortress of Schweidnitz would screen their retreat, and the
Landwehr of Silesia would make good the gaps in their ranks. Towards
Schweidnitz, then, the Czar ordered Barclay to retreat.
There two disappointments awaited them. The fortifications, dismantled
by the French in 1807, were still in disrepair, and the 20,000 muskets
bought in Austria for the Silesian levies were without touch-holes!
Again Barclay declared that he must retreat into Poland, and only the
offer of a truce by Napoleon deterred him from that step, which must
have compromised the whole military and political situation. What
would not Napoleon have given to know the actual state of things at
the allied headquarters?[300] But no spy warned him of the truth; and
as his own instincts prompted him to turn aside, so as to prepare
condign chastisement for Austria, he continued to treat for an
armistice.
"Nothing," he wrote to Eugène on June 2nd, "can be more perfidious
than that Court. If I granted her present demands, she would
afterwards ask for Italy and Germany. Certainly she shall have nothing
from me." Events served to strengthen his resolve. The French entered
Breslau in triumph, and raised the siege of Glogau. The coalition
seemed to be tottering. That the punishment dealt to the allies and
Austria might be severe and final, he only needed a few weeks for the
reorganization of his once formidable cavalry. Then he could vent his
rage upon Austria. Then he could overthrow the Hungarian horse, and
crumple up the ill-trained Austrian foot. A short truce, he believed,
was useless: it would favour the allies more than the French. And,
under the specious plea that the discussion of a satisfactory peace
must take up at least forty days, he ordered his envoy, Caulaincourt,
to insist on a space of time which would admit of the French forces
being fully equipped in Saxony, Bavaria, and Illyria. "If," he wrote
to Caulaincourt on June 4th, "we did not wish to treat with a view to
peace, we should not be so stupid as to treat for an armistice at the
present time." And he urged him to insist on the limit of July 20th,
"always on the same reasoning, namely, that we must have forty full
days to see if we can come to an understanding." Far different was his
secret warning to General Clarke, the Minister of War. To him he wrote
on June 2nd:
"If I can, I will wait for the month of September to deal great
blows. I wish then to be in a position to crush my enemies, though
it is possible that, when Austria sees me about to do so, she may
make use of her pathetic and sentimental style, in order to
recognize the chimerical and ridiculous nature of her pretensions.
I have wished to write you this letter so that you may thoroughly
know my thoughts once for all."
And to Maret, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, he wrote on the same
day:
"We must gain time, and to gain time without displeasing Austria,
we must use the same language we have used for the last six
months--that we can do everything if Austria is our ally.... Work
on this, beat about the bush, and gain time.... You can embroider
on this canvas for the next two months, and find matter for
sending twenty couriers."[301]
In such cases, where Napoleon's diplomatic assurances are belied by
his secret military instructions, no one who has carefully studied his
career can doubt which course would be adopted. The armistice was
merely the pause that would be followed by a fiercer onset, unless the
allies and Austria bent before his will. Of this they gave no sign
even after the blow of Bautzen. In the negotiations concerning the
armistice they showed no timidity; and when, on June 4th, it was
signed at Poischwitz up to July 20th, Napoleon felt some doubts
whether he had not shown too much complaisance.
It was so: in granting a suspension of arms he had signed his own
death warrant.
The news that reached him at Dresden in the month of June helped to
stiffen his resolve once more. Davoust and Vandamme had succeeded in
dispersing the raw levies of North Germany and in restoring Napoleon's
authority at the mouths of the Elbe and Weser; and in this they now
had the help of the Danes.
For some time the allies had been seeking to win over Denmark. But
there was one insurmountable barrier in the way, the ambition of
Bernadotte. As we have seen, he was desirous of signalizing his
prospective succession to the Swedish throne by bringing to his
adopted country a land that would amply recompense it for the loss of
Finland.[302] This could only be found in Norway, then united with
Denmark; and this was the price of Swedish succour, to which the Czar
had assented during the war of 1812. For reasons which need not be
detailed here, Swedish help was not then forthcoming. But early in
1813 it was seen that a diversion caused by the landing of 30,000
Swedes in North Germany might be most valuable, and it was especially
desired by the British Government. Still, England was loth to gain the
alliance of Bernadotte at the price of Norway, which must drive
Denmark into the arms of France. Castlereagh, therefore, sought to
tempt him by the offer of our recent conquest of Guadeloupe. Or, if he
must have Norway, would not Denmark give her assent if she received
Swedish Pomerania and Lübeck? Bernadotte himself once suggested that
he would be satisfied with the Bishopric of Trondjem, the northern
part of Norway, if he could gain no compensation for Denmark in
Germany.[303]
This offer was tentatively made. It was all one. Denmark would not
hear of the cession of Norway or any part of it; and in the course of
the negotiations with England she even put in a claim to the Hanse
Towns, which was at once rejected. As Denmark was obdurate, Bernadotte
insisted that Sweden should gain the whole of Norway as the price of
her help to the allies. By the treaty of Stockholm (March 3rd, 1813)
we acceded to the Russo-Swedish compact of the previous year, which
assigned Norway to Sweden: we also promised to cede Guadeloupe to
Bernadotte, and to pay £1,000,000 towards the support of the Swedish
troops serving against Napoleon.[304] In the middle of May it was
known at Copenhagen that nothing was to be hoped for from Russia and
England. The Danes, therefore, ranged themselves on the French side,
with results that were to prove fatal to the welfare of their kingdom.
Thus the bargain which Bernadotte drove with the allies leagued
Denmark against them, and thereby hindered the liberation of North
Germany. But, such is the irony of fate, the transfer of Norway from
Denmark to Sweden has had a permanence in which Napoleon's territorial
arrangements have been signally lacking.
Bernadotte landed at Stralsund with 24,000 men, on May 18th. But the
organization of his troops for the campaign was so slow that he could
send no effective help to the Cossacks and patriots at Hamburg. His
seeming lethargy at once aroused the Czar's suspicions. This the
Swedish Prince Royal speedily detected; and, on hearing of the
armistice, he feared that another Tilsit would be the result. In a
passionate letter, of June 10th, he begged Alexander not to accept
peace: "To accept a peace dictated by Napoleon is to rear a sepulchre
for Europe: and if this misfortune happens, only England and Sweden
can remain intact."
This was the real Bernadotte. Those who called him a disguised friend
of Napoleon little knew the depth of his hatred for the Emperor, a
hatred which was even then compassing the earth for means of
overthrowing him, and saw in the person of a lonely French exile
beyond the Atlantic an instrument of vengeance. Already he had bidden
his old comrade in arms, Moreau, to come over and direct the people's
war against the tyrant who had exiled him; and the victor of
Hohenlinden was soon to land at Stralsund and spend his last days in
serving against the tricolour.
For the present the prospects of the allies seemed gloomy indeed. In
the south-east they had lost all the land up to Breslau and Glogau;
and in North Germany Davoust began to turn Hamburg into a great
fortress. This was in obedience to Napoleon's orders. "I shall never
feel assured," the Emperor wrote to his Marshal, "until Hamburg can be
looked on as a stronghold provisioned for several months and prepared
in every way for a long defence."--The ruin of commercial interests
was nought to him; and when Savary ventured to hint at the discontent
caused in French mercantile circles by these steps, he received a
sharp rebuke: " ... The cackling of the Paris bankers matters very
little to me. I am having Hamburg fortified. I am having a naval
arsenal formed there. Within a few months it will be one of my
strongest fortresses. I intend to keep a standing army of 15,000 men
there."[305] His plan was ruthlessly carried out. The wealth of
Hamburg was systematically extorted in order to furnish means for a
completer subjection. Boundless exactions, robbery of the bank, odious
oppression of all classes, these were the first steps. Twenty thousand
persons were thereafter driven out, first the young and strong as
being dangerous, then the old and weak as being useless; and a once
prosperous emporium of trade became Napoleon's chief northern
stronghold, a centre of hope for French and Danes, and a stimulus to
revenge for every patriotic Teuton.[306]
Yet the patriots were not cast down by recent events. Their one desire
was for the renewal of war: their one fear was that the diplomatists
would once more barter away German independence. "Our people," cried
Karl Müller, "is still too lazy because it is too wealthy. Let us
learn, as the Russians did, to go round and burn, and then find
ourselves dagger and poison, as the Spaniards did. Against those two
peoples Napoleon's troops could effect nothing." And while gloom and
doubt hung over Germany, a cheering ray shot forth once more from the
south-west. At the close of June came the news that Wellington had
utterly routed the French at Vittoria.
* * * * *