proved far more favorable to France than those first proposed, for
she was granted her natural frontiers and Italy in addition. It was
nothing short of madness on Napoleon’s part to refuse such concessions;
only a portion of them had even been dreamed of as possibilities under
the Bourbon monarchs at the height of their ambition. Even from his
own point of view, he might have trusted to the certainty of future
jealousies between the central European powers and Russia, by which his
place as the arbiter of Europe could be regained. Metternich, indeed,
was as insincere in his profession on behalf of peace as Napoleon
himself, because the congress closed before a special messenger with
the French counter proposals reached Vienna. War was resumed on August
11th.
The situation was now as follows: the French were about to be
surrounded by three great armies; 130,000 Austrians, 240,000 Russians,
and a mixed host, composed of various contingents from all the allies
great and small, under the former French marshal, Bernadotte, numbering
180,000 men. Moreover, there were 200,000 combined English and Spanish
soldiers ready to cross the Pyrenees. Altogether 1,000,000 men were
ranged in arms against the French Emperor. The plan as developed by
Bernadotte, now King of Sweden, was to wear Napoleon out. A decisive
battle would be avoided, but his lieutenants would be destroyed in
detail. Moreau, the victor of Hohenlinden, was brought from the United
States, where he had been living in exile, to assume the command of the
allies.
To oppose the vast allied forces, Napoleon had altogether no more
than 550,000 men, of whom 330,000 were in Germany. At Dresden, at the
end of August, an attack on the place was successfully resisted, and
Moreau, the generalissimo of the allies, lost his life. But Napoleon’s
scattered marshals fared badly, and the French army suffered heavy
losses just at a time when no man could be spared. The enveloping
plan was successfully carried out. Napoleon, at Leipzig, realized
his hopeless position, for he tried there to arrange an armistice.
With his 155,000 men he had against him 330,000 of the coalition. The
situation was rendered worse because the German troops serving with the
French deserted and joined the enemy; some, like the Saxons, during the
very course of the terrible battle which raged for three days around
Leipzig (October, 1813). At the end, 15 French generals and 25,000 men
were made prisoners, and 350 cannon were taken; 13,000 of the French
were massacred in the houses of Leipzig. The losses on both sides were
frightful, for 130,000 was the sum total of the killed and wounded,
50,000 of whom were French.
In the retreat which followed, the demoralization was so great that
only 40,000 men reached the Rhine, yet nearly 200,000 men were left,
by Napoleon’s orders, in various German fortresses, most of them, too,
experienced troops who were unable to take further part in the war when
their country was invaded in the next year’s campaign. Some attempt
was made to arrange terms of peace now that everywhere the Napoleonic
system had fallen to pieces. The French armies were driven out of
Holland. In Italy alone Eugène Beauharnais was manfully and loyally
supporting the Emperor’s cause, but he had only 30,000 men.
The people of France had no heart for more warfare, and the allies
let it be known that they were fighting Napoleon and not France. But
still the great mass of the people had no wish for a change of dynasty;
the war was unpopular, but not its author. As soon as it became known
that the cause of the allies meant a restoration of the Bourbons,
and that France would be invaded, in order to displace Napoleon, the
answer of the country, exhausted though it was and drained of its male
population, was spontaneous and unmistakable. From the autumn of 1813,
to March, 1814, France placed in the field under Napoleon’s orders,
350,000 men. This is a marvelous record, not to mention the tremendous
financial drain caused by the equipment of a fresh army.
The new recruits were not trained, well armed, or sufficiently
clothed; there was not time to prepare them for warfare, for the allies
crossed the frontiers of France in midwinter (1813). There was no
resistance to their progress until Napoleon with an army of 122,000
began to conduct his last extended campaign in the neighborhood of
Châlons. By reason of a success gained near Rotheise the allies hoped
soon to be in Paris. This over-confidence exposed them to a series of
defeats, inflicted upon several of their generals in succession, by
Napoleon, in a remarkable exposition of his strategy that recalled the
early days of his career in Italy. By the end of February the principal
army of the allies retired near Troyes, afraid, though numbering
150,000 men, to face a stand-up fight with Napoleon, who had only
70,000 men. Public confidence was restored in France, especially among
the country people, indignant at the brutal treatment they received at
the hands of the foreign soldiers. There was now stirred up a spirit
of national resistance, which recalled the early days of the French
Revolution. The peasantry arose, and inflicted severe losses on the
marauding troops. Attempts were made in the spring to arrange terms
of peace, but on neither side was there a sincere belief that the war
could be brought to an end by mutual concessions. The Congress of
Châtillon lasted from the 4th of February to the 19th of March; it was
only a concession to public opinion, for the allies really wished for a
Bourbon restoration, while Napoleon, depending on his marriage with the
daughter of Francis I of Austria, felt certain that he could ultimately
detach the Austrians from the coalition. At one time the allied armies
were so discouraged, after fighting ten battles on French soil, that
they contemplated a retreat eastward.
Confidence was restored to them, not by their military successes, but
by the capture of some private despatches from various officials to the
French Emperor, which spoke in no uncertain terms of the discontent of
the people of Paris and of the general depression throughout a country
that was no longer able to bear the material exhaustion caused by the
war. So encouraged, the allies marched to Paris; Napoleon anticipated
this step, and had ordered the government to withdraw towards the
Loire, feeling sure that in time he could drive his foes from French
territory. Yet he realized to the full the bad effect of the seizure of
his capital.
In approaching the city the allies had only to deal with the marshals,
not with the master hand of the Emperor, who first heard of their march
westward three days after it had begun. The end soon came; there was a
murderous engagement near the city, after which the arrangements for an
armistice were made with Joseph Bonaparte, acting for the regent, the
Empress Marie Louise. When Napoleon heard the news of the capitulation,
he indignantly prepared to annul the action of his brother, and to
call the people to arms for a hand-to-hand struggle in the streets of
Paris with the foreign soldiery. In a few days, owing to the shrewd
persuasions of Talleyrand, who induced Alexander of Russia to accept
no alternative government for the country but a Bourbon restoration,
Napoleon found himself forced to abdicate.
This step was not taken until after long hesitations, for even to the
last he believed in the possibility of continuing hostilities. The
troops were still enthusiastically loyal, and eagerly listened to his
appeal to them to march upon Paris. But his marshals insisted that he
must abdicate. This he finally did in a conditional form, reserving
the rights of Napoleon II, and the regency of Marie Louise. This form,
owing to the refusal of the Czar to accept it, was finally altered
until it read as follows: “The allied powers having proclaimed that
the Emperor Napoleon was the sole obstacle to the restoration of peace
in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, loyal to his oaths, declares that he
renounces in behalf of himself and his heirs the thrones of France and
Italy, because there is no personal sacrifice, even to the extent of
his life, that he is not ready to make in the interest of France.”...
For several days after abdicating, Napoleon remained in Fontainebleau
practically deserted by his old comrades in arms, who were anxious
to make peace with the new government, now that Louis XVIII had been
proclaimed king. On the night of the 12th of April he tried to poison
himself, but the attempt failed, for the toxic drug, which he had
always carried on his person since the retreat from Moscow, had lost
its power. He soon recovered, however, from his depression, and on the
20th of April, 1814, signed the treaty of Fontainebleau, by which he
was given the sovereignty of the island of Elba, and retained the title
of Emperor.
The story of the Spanish campaign, which had a potent influence in
causing Napoleon’s ruin, is marked by many brilliant feats of arms
on the part of the French, but the country could no longer be held.
Finally, by the successful advance of Wellington, the Spanish war
became merged in the general defense of French territory, when France
was invaded by the coalition in 1814. On Spanish soil the final
disaster came at the battle of Vitoria, June 21, 1813, where the
French lost 7000 men, 180 pieces of artillery, and nearly all their
baggage trains. One of the great mistakes of the Peninsular War was
Soult’s refusal to give battle to Wellington in 1812, when all the
advantages in numbers were on his side. Later on, though he was in a
far inferior position, he proved a most obstinate opponent, contesting
Wellington’s march north at every step with an army inferior to that
under his opponent. He gave way slowly, and while Napoleon was fighting
the allies in his last campaign before his abdication, Soult had
been forced to withdraw from Bayonne, and then from Toulouse, which
Wellington entered on the 12th of April, 1814.
It is generally held by critics that the war in Spain was a most
serious mistake from start to finish, and was the chief cause of
Napoleon’s ruin. Whatever share in the failure of the imperial policy
in the Peninsula may be assigned to the mediocre capacity of Joseph and
to the confused strategy of the French armies due to the jealousies of
the marshals, a large part of the responsibility falls to the account
of Napoleon himself. He left his work half done in the Peninsula, where
he underrated the difficulties of conquest. He reckoned that it would
cost him but 12,000 men! As a matter of fact, it kept a large number
of his best troops occupied at a time when they were most needed. It
was sheer folly to undertake the Russian campaign while Spain was still
far from being pacified. It was also culpably bad tactics to allow
Wellington to destroy the prestige of French soldiers and generals,
and it was close to madness, in 1813, not to withdraw altogether from
Spain, when every man was needed in France to defend its frontiers from
the coalition. On the other hand, while Spain’s resistance to French
arms was a glorious record of patriotism, modern Spain has paid very
dear for its glory. All the elements of reaction were interested in
the downfall of the Napoleonic régime, and in no other country, not
even Italy, did the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty produce such
deplorable maladministration and civil disorder.
The dramatic farewell of the Emperor to his troops at Fontainebleau
makes a picturesque “mise-en-scène” for the close of a tragedy; it is
unfortunate that the spectacular instincts of his genius induced him
to accept the ridiculous rôle of sovereign of the island of Elba. It
would have been more dignified for him to have refused the offer of the
allies, and to have exchanged the rôle of a “roi fainéant” for that of
a private individual. Nothing illustrates the parvenu traits of his
character more than his desire to preserve the shadow of the royal
dignity, even if he had to accept bounty from the hands of a Bourbon
king to maintain it.
The allies fully realized the danger of his proximity in Elba, and
unofficially there were various plans discussed with a view to rid
themselves of their dangerous neighbor. Talleyrand was plotting to have
him imprisoned, while the English urged deportation to an inaccessible
island. Napoleon, who was an admirable actor, accommodated himself to
his Lilliputian kingdom and to his mimic court, and adopted the pose
of a modern Timoleon. “I wish to live henceforth,” he said, “like a
justice of the peace. The Emperor is dead, I am no longer anything. I
think of nothing outside of my small island. I exist no longer for the
world. Nothing now interests me but my family, my cottage, my cows, and
my mules.” His demands were not so modest as his words appear, for he
spent nearly 2,000,000 francs at Elba in eight months.
He complained bitterly at being separated from his son and his wife,
both of whom Francis kept in Vienna. There was no intention that they
should be allowed to rejoin the Emperor; indeed, Marie Louise, who
was of a very passive disposition, was content not to see her husband
again, especially after Metternich had supplied her with an admirer,
General Neippberg. It might have been wiser, certainly it would have
been more humane, if the allies had adopted a less stringent policy
of isolation. Whatever one may think of the sincerity of Napoleon’s
sentiments, he struck a true note, when he wrote the words “my son has
been taken from me, as were formerly the children of the vanquished, to
adorn the triumph of their conqueror. One cannot find in modern times
an example of such barbarity.” He was not entirely dejected, for he
was visited by his mother and his youngest sister, and though the king
of Rome was withheld from him, an irregular heir was brought to Elba
by the Countess Walinska, whom Napoleon had met some years before in
Poland.
There were financial embarrassments, which made impossible the idyllic
life the exiled monarch had mapped out for himself; the income
stipulated by the treaty of Fontainebleau was not paid. But there
were more weighty reasons for the flight from Elba, which occurred
early in 1815 (February 26). For some time Napoleon had been in secret
communication with Murat, probably with a view to restoring the kingdom
of Italy, through coöperation from Naples. This scheme promised more
difficulties than a return to France, where the Bourbon restoration
was not popular, and where the army and its generals were far from
being satisfied with their new situation, under a king who favored
the lifelong supporters of his cause. Plans had been concocted during
the winter to dethrone Louis XVIII, in which both the Bonapartist
sympathizers and some of the old revolutionary leaders had acted
together. On hearing of this, Napoleon considered that the moment
was opportune for his reappearance on French soil. With 1100 of his
veterans who had acted as his guard at Elba, he reached southern France
in safety. As the prevailing sentiment in this region was royalist, he
made his way with his small band through the Alps to Grenoble, marching
sometimes as much as thirty miles a day. By the peasants of the country
he was welcomed everywhere with enthusiasm. From Paris orders were sent
to treat him as an outlaw.
The critical time came at Grenoble, when Napoleon’s dramatic qualities
helped him to secure the allegiance of his old troops. He marched
impressively at the head of his veterans to within gunshot distance
of a regiment drawn up in his way. “Soldiers,” he said, “look well at
me. If there is among you one soldier who wishes to kill his Emperor
he can do it. I come to offer myself for you to shoot.” The effect was
instantaneous, and the answer to his appeal was the old familiar cry,
“Long live the Emperor.”
The enthusiasm increased as he proceeded farther north. Nothing
could arrest it or prevent the defection of the troops, not even the
appeals for loyalty to the Bourbon king, addressed to their men by the
marshals, who strove to outdo one another in their official abuse of
the enterprise. Soult spoke of Napoleon as an adventurer; others called
him a public enemy or a mad brigand, while Ney undertook to bring him
to Paris in an iron cage. The army cared nothing for these criticisms
or warnings; even Ney himself joined the movement and turned over his
troops to the “man from Elba.” By the 20th of March Napoleon was in
Paris at the Tuileries; his marvelous progress was a restoration, not
based on diplomacy, but made possible by the enthusiastic loyalty of
the population, and the rank and file of the army. Not a gun had been
fired. At Grenoble it had been the soldiers who had refused to obey
their officers’ command, when told to shoot. Afterwards there was no
officer found willing to repeat the command.
The question of establishing a new government was solved by
inaugurating a liberal constitutional rule. Napoleon seemed once again
to remember that he was the creation of the Revolution. As an evidence
of his sincerity to the tradition of the Republic, he selected as
his chief adviser, Benjamin Constant, the old Jacobin leader, whose
independence a few years before Napoleon had so much resented when
Constant had led the opposition in the Tribunate. All these things
were now forgotten. “Public discussions, free elections, responsible
ministers, liberty of the press; I want all this. I am a man of the
people! If the people want liberty, I am bound to give it.” Under the
new government, which was accepted by a small vote, owing to the number
of those who stayed away from the polls, the elections returned a
majority of liberals and republicans, who were not in sympathy with the
restored empire. Many preferred to have a regency with Napoleon’s son
or the Duke of Orléans. But the real hopelessness of the situation came
from the implacable attitude of the allies. At the Congress of Vienna,
where the great powers were rearranging the map of Europe amidst much
jealousy and intrigue, they at least agreed on one subject: the refusal
to allow Napoleon to rule France. That devoted country was put under an
interdict. The four powers agreed to fight the French Emperor with a
coalition army of more than 1,000,000 men. To oppose this immense force
Davout, acting under Napoleon’s directions, had in a few weeks got
together for the purpose of national defense 500,000 men to be ready by
the end of June. Elaborate plans were made to protect the frontiers,
and Napoleon proposed to take the offensive without waiting for the
allies to invade the country.
The nearest allied army was in Belgium, composed of 100,000 English
and Dutch under Wellington, and 150,000 Prussians under Blücher.
Napoleon set out to oppose these forces with 180,000 men, intending to
get between the English and the Prussians and beat them separately,
trusting to the well-known rapidity of his movements to keep them
from joining. Strategically the plan was a brilliant one, but it was
not capably executed. Ney, at Quatre Bras, did not win a complete
victory over the English because the engagement was begun too late. At
Ligny, Napoleon attacked Blücher, who fought obstinately, though he
lost 20,000 men, and was not completely crushed as had been planned.
Instead of withdrawing in confusion, as had been expected, Blücher
set out to join Wellington’s troops. Grouchy, who was sent in pursuit
of the Prussians, did not know of this operation and was under the
impression that he was carrying out properly his instructions to
pursue the Prussians alone, whereas the greater part of the Prussian
army had already come in touch with Wellington, and Grouchy failed,
therefore, to bring his men back in time to Waterloo where they were
needed. Wellington was strongly intrenched and all attempts to take his
position failed. The battle, begun at 11 A.M. on June 18, 1815, was not
decided until five o’clock, when Blücher effected his junction with
the English forces. It was a most desperate engagement, for Napoleon
realized what depended on it. The losses were 32,000 French and 22,000
of the allies.
A second act of abdication was now imposed upon Napoleon, who accepted
it, resigning in favor of his son. He even offered to serve as a simple
general to prevent the allies from capturing Paris. This was not an
absolutely chimerical proposal, for there was an enormous mass of men
gathered by Davout, ready to fight even after the defeat of Waterloo.
But the elected representatives would not hear of continuing the
struggle. Napoleon lingered for several days near Paris, at Malmaison,
and it was only when he was advised by the temporary government
that they could not be responsible for his personal safety, that he
traveled towards the west, where his friends were arranging that he
should be taken on an American vessel to the United States. The sea
coast was watched by British cruisers, so the defeated conqueror
decided to surrender himself to the British, intending to claim their
hospitality and protection as a guest, not as a prisoner. Apparently,
Napoleon rejected the plan to cross the Atlantic “incognito,” for
the more spectacular one of throwing himself on the mercy of his
most bitter antagonists, because he counted on finding a protection
under the constitutional régime of Great Britain, and especially
on the ability of the liberal opposition to prevent him from being
treated with exceptional harshness. He realized, too, that it would
be most dangerous for him to fall into the hands of any of the allied
Continental Powers, who might have had him condemned to death by a
court-martial or immured in close confinement. It is known that the
British premier, Castlereagh, hoped that Napoleon would fall into the
hands of Louis XVIII and be treated as a rebel. Therefore, when the
vessel which carried him reached the English coast, there was some
hesitation as to the treatment he would receive.
Finally, at the end of July, the problem was solved by arranging to
send the prisoner to the Island of St. Helena, because, on account of
its isolation, there would be little chance of escape. The climate was
healthy, close confinement would not be necessary, and Napoleon was
permitted to take a suite of servants and friends with him. During his
residence at Elba, the plan of a removal of the Emperor to St. Helena
had been discussed by the Powers at the Congress of Vienna; perhaps
the knowledge of this fact may have contributed largely to induce the
flight from Elba and the short-lived attempt to restore the empire.
Acting under international agreement, England became responsible for
the guardianship of Napoleon, who was called the prisoner of the
Powers. In October, 1815, began the captivity at St. Helena. It was
naturally a trying experience to a man who had lately played so great a
rôle in the world, and Napoleon did not have the temperament to endure
so conspicuous a change in fortune. He instantly began a campaign to
secure his release from captivity. Reckoning on the action of public
opinion in England working in his behalf, he left nothing undone to
exaggerate the onerous conditions under which he lived as an exile. On
its side, the British government, which was being administered by men
who represented a selfish oligarchy, and who had to their credit a long
record of inefficiency, corruption, and attacks on popular rights, was
not likely to show especial consideration to a fallen antagonist at St.
Helena. A regular system of persecution, inane and petty, was invented,
and in applying it the governor of the island, Sir Hudson Lowe, a man
of morose temper, whose character is admirably indicated by his name,
showed himself a master.