Clearly, then, the Third Coalition was not cemented by English gold, but by Napoleon's provocations. While England and Russia found great difficulty in coming to an accord, and Austria was arming only from fear, the least act of complaisance on his part would have unravelled this ill-knit confederacy. But no such action was forthcoming. All his letters written in North Italy after his coronation are puffed up with incredible insolence. Along with hints to Eugene to base politics on dissimulation and to seek only to be feared, we find letters to Ministers at Paris scorning the idea that England and Russia can come to terms, and asserting that the annexation of Genoa concerns England alone; but if Austria wants to find a pretext for war, she may now find it.

Then he hurries back to Fontainebleau, covering the distance from Turin in eighty-five hours; and, after a brief sojourn at St. Cloud, he reaches Boulogne. There, on August the 22nd, he hears that Austria is continuing to arm: a few hours later comes the news that Villeneuve has turned back to Cadiz. Fiercely and trenchantly he resolves this fateful problem. He then sketches to Talleyrand the outlines of his new policy. He will again press, and this time most earnestly, his offer of Hanover to Prussia as the price of her effective alliance against the new coalition. Perhaps this new alliance will strangle the coalition at its birth; at any rate it will paralyze Austria. Accordingly, he despatches to Berlin his favourite aide-de-camp, General Duroc, to persuade the King that his alliance will save the Continent from war.[21]

Meanwhile the Hapsburgs were completely deceived. They imagined Napoleon to be wholly immersed in his naval enterprise, and accordingly formed a plan of campaign, which, though admirable against a weak and guileless foe, was fraught with danger if the python's coils were ready for a spring. As a matter of fact, he was far better prepared than Austria. As late as July 7th, the Court of Vienna had informed the allies that its army would not be ready for four months; yet the nervous anxiety of the Hapsburgs to be beforehand with Napoleon led them to hurry on war: and on August 9th they secretly gave their adhesion to the Russo-British alliance.

Then, too, by a strange fatuity, their move into Bavaria was to be made with a force of only 59,000 men, while their chief masses, some 92,000 strong, were launched into Italy against the strongholds on the Mincio. To guard the flanks of these armies, Austria had 34,000 men in Tyrol; but, apart from raw recruits, there were fewer than 20,000 soldiers in the rest of that vast empire. In fact, the success of the autumn campaign was known to depend on the help of the Russians, who were expected to reach the banks of the Inn before the 20th of October, while it was thought that the French could not possibly reach the Danube till twenty days later.[22] It was intended, however, to act most vigorously in Italy, and to wage a defensive campaign on the Danube.

Such was the plan concocted at Vienna, mainly under the influence of the Archduke Charles, who took the command of the army in Italy, while that of the Danube was assigned to the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, the new Quarter-Master-General. This soldier had hitherto enjoyed a great reputation in Austria, probably because he was the only general who had suffered no great defeat. Amidst the disasters of 1797 he seemed the only man able to retrieve the past, and to be shut out from command by Thugut's insane jealousy of his "transcendent abilities."[23] Brave he certainly was: but his mind was always swayed by preconceived notions; he belonged to the school of "manoeuvre strategists," of whom the Duke of Brunswick was the leader; and he now began the campaign of 1805 with the fixed purpose of holding a commanding military position. Such a position the Emperor Francis and Mack had discovered in the weak fortress of Ulm and the line of the River Iller. Towards these points of vantage the Austrians now began to move.

The first thing was to gain over the Elector of Bavaria. The Court of Vienna, seeking to persuade or compel that prince to join the Coalition, made overtures (September 3rd to 6th) with which he dallied for a day or two until an opportunity came of escaping to the fortress of Wuerzburg. Mack thereupon crossed the River Inn and sought, but in vain, to cut off the Bavarian troops from that stronghold. Accordingly, the Austrian leader marched on to Ulm, where he arrived in the middle of September; and, not satisfied with holding this advanced position, he pushed on his outposts to the chief defiles of the Black Forest, while other regiments held the valley of the River Iller and strengthened the fortress of Memmingen. Doubtless this would have been good strategy, had his forces been equal in numbers to those of Napoleon. At that time the Black Forest was the only physical barrier between France and Southern Germany; the Rhine was then practically a French river; and, only by holding the passes of that range could the Austrians hope to screen Swabia from invasion on the side of Alsace.



But Mack forgot two essential facts. Until the Russians arrived, he was too weak to hold so advanced a position in what was hostile ground, now that Bavaria and the other South German States obeyed Napoleon's summons to range themselves on his side. Further, he was dangerously exposed on the north, as a glance at the map will show. Ulm and the line of the Iller formed a strong defence against the south-west: but on the north that position is singularly open: it can be turned from the valleys of the Main, the Neckar, and the Altmuehl, all of which conduct an invader to the regions east of Ulm. Indeed, it passes belief how even the Aulic Council could have ignored the dangers of that position. Possibly the fact that Ulm had been stoutly held by Kray in 1796 now induced them to overrate its present importance; but at that time the fortified camp of Ulm was the central knot of vast operations, whereas now it was but an advanced outpost.[24] If Francis and his advisers were swayed by historical reminiscences it is strange that they forgot the fate of Melas in Piedmont. The real parallel had been provided, not by Kray, but by the general who was cut off at Marengo. Indeed, in its broad outlines, the campaign of Ulm resembles that of Marengo. Against foes who had thrust their columns far from their base, Napoleon now, as in 1800, determined to deal a crushing blow. On the part of the Austrians we notice the same misplaced confidence, the same lack of timely news, and the same inability to understand Napoleon's plan until his dispositions are complete; while his strategy and tactics in 1805 recall to one's mind the masterly simplicity of design, the subtlety and energy of execution, which led up to his triumph in the plains of Piedmont.

Meanwhile the allies were dissipating their strength. A Russian corps, acting from Corfu as a base, and an English expedition from Malta, were jointly to attack St. Cyr in the south of Italy, raise the country at his rear and compel him to surrender. This plan was left helplessly flapping in the air by a convention which Napoleon imposed on the Neapolitan ambassador. On September 21st Talleyrand induced that envoy to guarantee the neutrality of the kingdom of Naples, all belligerents being excluded from its domains. Consequently St. Cyr's corps evacuated that land and brought a welcome reinforcement to Massena on the Mincio. Equally skilful was Napoleon's action as regards Hanover. On that side also the allies planned a formidable expedition. From the fortress of Stralsund in Swedish Pomerania, a force of Russians and Swedes, which Gustavus burned to command, was to march into Hanover, and, when strengthened by an Anglo-Hanoverian corps, drive the French from the Low Countries. It is curious to contrast the cumbrous negotiations concerning this expedition—the quarrels about the command, the anxiety at the outset lest Villeneuve should perhaps sail into the Baltic, the delays of the British War Office, the remonstrances of the Czar, and the efforts to avert the jealousy of Prussia—with the serene indifference of Napoleon as to the whole affair. He knew full well that the war would not be decided by diversions at the heel of Italy or on the banks of the Ems, but by the shock of great masses of men on the Danube. He denuded Hanover of French troops, except at its southern fortress of Hameln, so that he could overwhelm the levies of Austria before the Russians came up. In brief, while the Coalition sought, like a Briareus, to envelop him on all sides, he prepared to deal a blow at its heart.

As the first part of the campaign depended almost entirely on problems of time and space, it will be well to follow the chief movements of the hostile forces somewhat closely. The Austrian plan aimed at forestalling the French in the occupation of Swabia; and its apparent success puffed up Mack with boundless confidence. At Ulm he threw up extensive outworks to strengthen that obsolete fortress, extended his lines to Memmingen far on the south, and trusted that the Muscovites would come up long before the French eagles hovered above the sources of the Danube. But at that time the Russian vanguard had not reached Linz in Upper Austria, and not before October 10th did it appear on the banks of the River Inn.[25]

Far from being the last to move, the French Emperor outstripped his enemies in the speed of his preparations. Whereas the Austrians believed he would not be able to reach the Danube in force before November 10th, he intended to have 200,000 men in Germany by September 18th. But he knew not at first the full extent of his good fortune: it did not occur to him that the Austrians would cross the Inn: all he asks Talleyrand, on August 23rd, is that such news may appear in the "Moniteur" as will gain him twenty days and give General Bertrand time to win over Bavaria, while "I make my 200,000 men pirouette into Germany." On August 29th the Army of England became the Grand Army, composed of seven corps, led by Bernadotte, Marmont, Davoust, Soult, Lannes, Ney and Augereau. The cavalry was assigned to Murat; while Bessieres was in command of the Imperial Guard, now numbering some 10,000 men.

Already the greater part of this vast array was beginning to move inland; Davoust and Soult left some regiments, 30,000 strong, to guard the flotilla, and Marmont detached 14,000 men to defend the coasts of Holland; but the other corps on September 2nd began their march Rhine-wards in almost their full strength. On that day Bernadotte broke up his cantonments in Hanover, and began his march towards the Main, on which so much was to turn. The Elector of Hesse-Cassel now espoused Napoleon's cause. Thus, without meeting any opposition, Bernadotte's columns reached Wuerzburg at the close of September; there the Elector of Bavaria welcomed the Marshal and gave him the support of his 20,000 troops; and at that stronghold he was also joined by Marmont.

In order to mislead the Austrians, Napoleon remained up to September 23rd at St. Cloud or Paris; and during his stay appeared a Senatus Consultum ordering that, after January 1st, 1806, France should give up its revolutionary calendar and revert to the Gregorian. He then set out for Strassburg, as though the chief blows were to be dealt through the passes of the Black Forest at the front of Mack's line of defence; and, to encourage that general in this belief, Murat received orders to show his horsemen in the passes held by Mack's outposts, but to avoid any serious engagements. This would give time for the other corps to creep up to the enemy's rear. Mack, meanwhile, had heard of the forthcoming junction of the French and Bavarians at Wuerzburg, but opined that it threatened Bohemia.[26]

Accordingly, he still clung to his lines, contenting himself with sending a cavalry regiment to observe Bernadotte's movements; but neither he nor his nominal chief, the Archduke Ferdinand, divined the truth. Indeed, so far did they rely on the aid of the Russians as to order back some regiments sent from Italy by the more sagacious Archduke Charles; but 11,000 troops from Tyrol reached the Swabian army. That force was now spread out so as to hold the bridges of the Danube between Ingolstadt and Ulm; and on October 7th the Austrians were disposed as follows: 18,000 men under Kienmayer were guarding Ingolstadt, Neuburg, Donauwoerth, Guenzburg, and lesser points, while Mack had about 35,000 men at Ulm and along the line of the Iller; the arrival of other detachments brought the Austrian total to upwards of 70,000 men. Against this long scattered line Napoleon led greatly superior forces.[27] The development of his plans proceeded apace. Though Prussia had proclaimed her strict neutrality, he did not scruple to violate it by sending Bernadotte's corps through her principality of Ansbach, which lay in their path. He charged Bernadotte to "offer many assurances favourable to Prussia, and testify all possible affection and respect for her—and then rapidly cross her land, asserting the impossibility of doing anything else." Accordingly, that Marshal was lavish in his regrets and apologies, but ordered his columns to defile past the battalions and squadrons of Prussia, that were powerless to resent the outrage.[28]

The news of this trespass on Prussian territory reached the ears of Frederick William at a critical time, when the Czar sent to Berlin a kind of ultimatum, intimating that, even if Prussia deserted the cause of European independence, Russian troops must nevertheless pass through part of Prussian Poland. Stung by this note from his usually passive demeanour, the King sent off an answer that such a step would entail a Franco-Prussian alliance against the violators of his territory, when the news came that Napoleon had actually done at Ansbach what Alexander had announced his intention of doing in the east. The revulsion of feeling was violent: for a short space the King declared he would dismiss Duroc and make war on Napoleon for this insult, but in the end he called a cabinet council and invited the Czar to come to Berlin.[29]

While the Gallophil counsellors, Haugwitz and Lombard, were using all their arts to hinder the Prusso-Russian understanding, the meshes were being woven fast around Mack and the Archduke Ferdinand. Bernadotte's corps, after making history in its march, was detached to the south-east so as to hold in check the Russian vanguard, and to give plenty of room to the troops that were to cut off Mack from Austria, a move which may be compared with the march of Bonaparte to Milan before he essayed the capture of Melas. Both steps bespeak his desire to have ample space at his back before circling round his prey.

On October 6th the corps of Soult and Lannes, helped by Murat's powerful cavalry, cut the Austrian lines on the Danube at Donauwoerth, and gained a firm footing on the right bank. Over the crossing thus secured far in Mack's rear, the French poured in dense array, and marched south and south-west towards the back of the Austrian positions, while Ney's corps marched to seize the chief bridges over the Danube.

A study of the processes of Mack's brain at this time is not without interest. It shows the danger of intrusting the fate of an army to a man who cannot weigh evidence. Mack was not ignorant of the course of events, though his news generally came late. The mischief was that his brain warped the news. On October 6th he wrote to Vienna that the enemy seemed about to aim a blow at his communications: on October 7th, when he heard of the loss of Donauwoerth, he described it as an unfortunate event, which no one thought to be possible. The Archduke now urged the need of an immediate retreat towards Munich, and marched in an easterly direction on Guenzburg: another Austrian division of 8,000 men moved on Wertingen, where, on October 8th, it was furiously attacked by the troops of Murat and Lannes. At first the Imperialists firmly kept their ranks; but the unequal contest closed with a hasty flight, which left 2,000 men in the hands of the French Then Murat, pressing on through the woods, cut off Mack's retreat to Augsburg. Yet that general still took a cheerful view of his position. On that same day he wrote from Guenzburg that, as soon as the enemy had passed over the Lech, he would cross the Danube and cut their communications at Noerdlingen. He wrote thus when Ney's corps was striving to seize the Danube bridges below Ulm. If Mack were to march north-east against the French communications it was of the utmost importance for him to hold the chief of these bridges: but Ney speedily seized three of them, and on the 9th was able to draw closer the toils around Ulm.

From his position at Augsburg the French Emperor now directed the final operations; and, as before Marengo, he gave most heed to that side by which he judged his enemy would strive to break through, in this case towards Kempten and Tyrol. This would doubtless have been Mack's safest course; for he was strong enough to brush aside Soult, gain Tyrol, seal up its valleys against Napoleon, and carry reinforcements to the Archduke Charles. But he was still intent on his Noerdlingen scheme, even after the loss of the Danube bridges exposed his march thither to flank attacks from the four French corps now south of the river. Nevertheless, Napoleon's miscalculation of Mack's plans, or, as Thiers has striven to prove, a misunderstanding of his orders by Murat, gave the Austrians a chance such as fortune rarely bestows.[30]

In spite of Ney's protests, one of his divisions, that led by Dupont, had been left alone to guard the northern bank of the Danube, a position where it might have been overwhelmed by an enterprising foe. What is more extraordinary, Dupont, with only 6,000 men, was charged to advance on Ulm, and carry it by storm. On the 11th he accordingly advanced against Mack's fortified camp north of that city. The Austrians met him in force, and, despite the utmost heroism of his troops, finally wrested the village of Hasslach from his grasp; later in the day a cloud of their horsemen, swooping round his right wing, cut up his tired troops, took 1,000 prisoners, and left 1,500 dead and wounded on the field. Among the booty was found a despatch of Napoleon ordering Dupont to carry Ulm by storm—which might have shown them that the French Emperor believed that city to be all but deserted.[31] In truth, Napoleon's miscalculation opened for Mack a path of safety; and had he at once marched away to the north, the whole aspect of affairs might have changed. The Russian vanguard was on the banks of the Inn: all the French, except the relics of Dupont's division, were south of the Danube, and a few vigorous blows at their communications might have greatly embarrassed troops that had little artillery, light stores of ammunition, and lived almost entirely on the produce of the country. We may picture to ourselves the fierce blows that, in such a case, Frederick the Great would have rained on his assailants as he wheeled round on their rear and turned their turning movements. With Frederick matched against Napoleon, the Lech and the Danube would have witnessed a very cyclone of war.

But Mack was not Frederick: and he had to do with a foe who speedily made good an error. On October 13th, when Mack seemed about to cut off the French from the Main, he received news through Napoleon's spies that the English had effected a landing at Boulogne, and a revolution had broken out in France. The tidings found easy entrance into a brain that had a strange bias towards pleasing falsities and rejected disagreeable facts. At once he leaped to the conclusion that the moves of Soult, Murat, Lannes, Marmont, and Ney round his rear were merely desperate efforts to cut back a way to Alsace. He therefore held fast to his lines, made only feeble efforts to clear the northern road, and despatched reinforcements to Memmingen. The next day brought other news; that Memmingen had been invested by Soult; that Ney by a brilliant dash across the Danube at Elchingen had routed an Austrian division there, and was threatening Ulm from the north-east; and that the other French columns were advancing from the south-east. Yet Mack, still viewing these facts in the twilight of his own fancies, pictured them as the efforts of despair, not as the drawing in of the hunter's toils.

He was now almost alone in his reading of events. The Archduke Ferdinand, though nominally in supreme command, had hitherto deferred to Mack's age and experience, as the Emperor Francis enjoined. But he now urged the need of instantly marching away to the north with all available forces. Still Mack clung to his notion that it was the French who were in sore straits; and he forbade the evacuation of Ulm; whereupon the Archduke, with Schwarzenberg, Kollowrath, Gyulai, and all whose instincts or rank prompted and enabled them to defy the madman's authority, assembled 1,500 horsemen and rode off by the northern road. It was high time; for Ney, firmly established at Elchingen, was pushing on his vanguard towards the doomed city: Murat and Lannes were charged to support him on the north bank, while across the river Marmont, and further south Soult, cut off the retreat on Tyrol.

At last the scales fell from Mack's eyes. Even now he protested against the mere mention of surrender. But again he was disappointed. Ney stormed the Michaelsberg north of Ulm, a position on which the Austrians had counted; and on October 17th the hapless commander agreed to terms of capitulation, whereby his troops were to march out and lay down their arms in six days' time, if an Austro-Russian army able to raise the siege did not come on the scene. These conditions were afterwards altered by the captor, who, wheedling his captive with a few bland words, persuaded him to surrender on the 20th on condition that Ney and his corps remained before Ulm until the 25th. This was Mack's last offence against his country and his profession; his assent to this wily compromise at once set free the other French corps for offensive operations; and that too when every day was precious to Austria, Russia, and Prussia.

On October 20th the French Emperor, with a brilliant staff, backed by the solid wall of his Guard and flanked by eight columns of his troops, received the homage of the vanquished. First came their commander, who, bowed down by grief, handed his sword to the victor with the words, "Here is the unfortunate Mack." Then there filed out to the foot of the Michaelsberg 20,000 foot and 3,000 horse, who laid down their arms before the Emperor, some with defiant rage, the most part in stolid dejection, while others flung them away with every sign of indecent joy.[32] As if the elements themselves conspired to enhance the brilliance of Napoleon's triumph, the sun, which had been obscured for days by storm-clouds and torrents of rain, now shone brightly forth, bathing the scene in the mild radiance of autumn, lighting up the French forces disposed on the slopes of that natural amphitheatre, while it cast deep shadows from the long trail of the vanquished beneath. The French were electrified by the sight: the fatigues of their forced marches through the dusty heats of September, and the slush, swamps, and torrents of the last few days were all forgotten, and they hailed with jubilant shouts the chief whose sagacity had planned and achieved a triumph hitherto unequalled in the annals of war. "Our Emperor," said they, "has found out a new way of making war: he no longer makes it with our arms, but with our legs."[33]

Meanwhile the other Austrian detachments were being hunted down. Only a few men escaped from Memmingen into Tyrol: the division, which, if properly supported, might have cut a way through to Noerdlingen three days earlier, was now overwhelmed by the troops of Murat and Lannes; out of 13,000 foot-soldiers very few escaped. Most of the horsemen succeeded in joining the Archduke Ferdinand, on whose track Murat now flung himself with untiring energy. The beau sabreur swept through part of Ansbach in pursuit, came up with Ferdinand near Nuremberg, and defeated his squadrons, their chief, with about 1,700 horse and some 500 mounted artillerymen, finally reaching the shelter of the Bohemian Mountains. All the rest of Mack's great array had been engulfed.

Thus closed the first scene of the War of the Third Coalition. Hasty preparations, rash plans, and, above all, Mack's fatal ingenuity in reading his notions into facts—these were the causes of a disaster which ruined the chances of the allies. The Archduke Charles, who had been foiled by Massena's stubborn defence, was at once recalled from Italy in order to cover Vienna; and, worst of all, the Court of Berlin now delayed drawing the sword.

Yet, even amidst the unstinted boons that she showered on Napoleon by land, Fortune rudely baffled him at sea. When he was hurrying from Ulm towards the River Inn, to carry the war into Austria, he heard that the French navy had been shattered. Trafalgar was fought the day after Mack's army filed out of Ulm. The greatest sea-fight of the century was the outcome of Napoleon's desire that his ships should carry succour to his troops in Italy. For this voyage the Emperor was about to substitute Admiral Rosily for Villeneuve: and the unfortunate admiral, divining that resolve, sought by a bold stroke to retrieve his fortunes. He put to sea, and Trafalgar was the result. It would be superfluous to describe this last and most splendid of Nelson's exploits; but a few words as to the bearing of this great victory on the events of that time may not be out of place. It is certain that Villeneuve at Trafalgar fought under more favourable conditions than in the conflict of July 22nd. He had landed his very numerous sick, his crews had been refreshed and reinforced, and, above all, the worst of the Spanish ships had been replaced by seaworthy and serviceable craft. Yet out of the thirty-three sail of the line, he lost eighteen to an enemy that numbered only twenty-seven sail; and that fact alone absolves him from the charge of cowardice in declining to face Cornwallis and Calder in July with ships that were cumbered with sick and badly needed refitting.

Then again: it is often stated that Trafalgar saved England from invasion. To refute this error it is merely needful to remind the reader that all immediate fear of invasion was over, when, at the close of August, Napoleon wheeled the Grand Army against Austria. Not until the Continent was conquered could the landing in Kent become practicable. That opportunity occurred two years later, after Tilsit; then, in truth, the United Kingdom was free from panic because Trafalgar had practically destroyed the French navy. For these islands, then, the benefits of Trafalgar were prospective. But, for the British Empire, they were immediate. Every French, Dutch, and Spanish colony that now fell into our hands was in great measure the fruit of Nelson's victory, which heralded the second and vaster stage of imperial growth.

Finally, the decisive advantage which Britain now gained over Napoleon at sea compelled him, if he would realize the world-wide schemes ever closest to his heart, to adopt the method of warfare against us which he had all along contemplated as an effective alternative. As far back as February, 1798, he pointed out that there were three ways of attacking and ruining England, either a direct invasion, or a French control of North Germany which would ruin British commerce, or an expedition to the Indies. After Trafalgar the first of these alternatives was impossible, and the last receded for a time into the background. The second now took the first place in his thoughts; he could only bring England to his feet and gain a world-empire by shutting out her goods from the whole of the Continent, and thus condemning her to industrial strangulation. In a word, Trafalgar necessitated the adoption of the Continental System, which was built up by the events now to be described.

Note to the Third Edition.—An American critic has charged me with inconsistency in saying that the Third Coalition was not built up by English gold, because I state (p. 5) that the first advances were made by England to Russia. I ought to have used the phrase "the first written proposals that I have found were made," etc. Czartoryski's "Memoirs" (vol. ii., chs. ii.-iii.), to which I referred my readers for details, show clearly that Alexander and his advisers looked on a rupture with France as inevitable, but wished to temporize for some three months or so, until certain matters were cleared up; they therefore cautiously sounded the position at Vienna and London. This passage from Czartoryski (vol. ii., ch. iii.) proves that Russia wanted the English alliance:

"After the diplomatic rupture consequent upon the execution of the Duc d'Enghien, it became indispensable to come to an understanding with the only Power, except Russia, which thought herself strong enough to contend with France—to ascertain as thoroughly as possible what were her inclinations and designs, the principles of her policy, and those which she could be led to adopt in certain contingencies. It would have been a great advantage to obtain the concurrence in our views of so powerful a State as England, and to strive with her for the same objects; but for this it was necessary, not only to make sure of her present inclinations, but to weigh well the possibilities of the future after the death of George III. and the fall of the Pitt Ministry. We had to make England understand that the wish to fight Napoleon was not in itself sufficient to establish an indissoluble bond between her Government and that of St. Petersburg...."

In "F.O.," Russia, No. 55, is a despatch of our ambassador at St. Petersburg, Admiral Warren, of June 30, 1804, in which he reports Czartoryski's concern at rumours of negotiations between England and France: "The prince [Czartoryski] remarked that he could not suppose, after what had passed between the two Courts, and the manner in which the Emperor [Alexander] had explained himself to England, and after the measures which Russia had since proposed, that Great Britain would make a peace at once by herself."

Of these earlier negotiations I have found no trace; but obviously the first proposals for an alliance must have come from Russia. Sweden was the first to propose a monarchical league against Napoleon. (See my article in the "Revue Napoleonienne" for June, 1902.)

* * * * *



CHAPTER XXIII

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 Schoenbrunn, while Francis was fleeing to Olmuetz and the Archdukes Charles and John were struggling in the defiles of the Alps to disengage themselves from the vanguard of Massena. The march of the French on Vienna, and thence northwards to Bruenn, 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 Olmuetz 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 Bruenn, 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 Bruenn, 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 Bruenn, 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 Cannae, 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 Olmuetz. 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'etat. 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 Thiebault, 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 Thiebault has censured Napoleon for the lack of support, and Soult for his apathy, during this soldiers' battle.



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 Bessieres 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 Bruenn, 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 Schoenbrunn, 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 pere 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 Schoenbrunn 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 Neufchatel 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 Schoenbrunn, 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 Wuertemberg, 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 Wuerzburg. 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, Wuertemberg, 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 Caesar; 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 Koeniggraetz, 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.)

* * * * *



CHAPTER XXIV

PRUSSIA AND THE NEW CHARLEMAGNE

An eminent German historian, who has striven to say some kind words about Frederick William's Government before the collapse at Jena, prefaces his apology by the axiom that from a Prussian monarch one ought to expect, not French, English, or Russian policy, but only Prussian policy. The claim may well be challenged. Doubtless, there are some States concerning which it would be true. Countries such as Great Britain and Spain, whose areas are clearly defined by nature, may with advantage be self-contained until their peoples overflow into new lands: before they become world Powers, they may gain in strength by being narrowly national. But there are other States whose fortunes are widely different. They represent some principle of life or energy, in the midst of mere political wreckage. If the binding power, which built up an older organism, should decline, as happened to the Holy Roman Empire after the religious wars, fragments will fall away and join bodies to which they are now more akin.

Of the States that throve among the crumbling masses of the old Empire the chief was Brandenburg-Prussia. She had a twofold energy which the older organism lacked: she was Protestant and she was national; she championed the new creed cherished by the North Germans, and she felt, though dimly as yet, the strength that came from an almost single kin. Until she seized on part of the spoils of Poland, her Slavonic subjects were for the most part germanized Slavs; and even after acquiring Posen and Warsaw at the close of the eighteenth century, she could still claim to be the chief Germanic State. A generation earlier, Frederick the Great had seen this to be the source of her strength. His policy was not merely Prussian: in effect, if not in aim, it was German. His victory at Rossbach over a great polyglot force of French and Imperialists first awakened German nationality to a thrill of conscious life; and the last success of his career was the championship of the lesser German princes against the encroachments of the Hapsburgs. In fact, it seems now a mere commonplace to assert that Prussia has prospered most when, as under Frederick the Great and William the Great, her policy has been truly German, and that she has fallen back most in the years 1795-1806 and 1848-1852, when the subservience of her Frederick Williams to France and Austria has lost them the respect and support of the rest of the Fatherland. A State that would attract other fragments of the same nation must be attractive, and it must be broadly national if it is to attract. If Stein and Bismarck had been merely Prussians, if Cavour's policy had been narrowly Sardinian, would their States ever have served as the rallying centres for the Germany and Italy of to-day?

The difficulties which beset Frederick William III. in 1805 were not entirely of his own making. His predecessor of the same ill-omened name, when nearing the close of his inglorious reign, made the Peace of Basel (1795), which began to place the policy of Berlin at the beck and call of the French revolutionists. But the present ruler had assured Prussia's subservience to France at the time of the Secularizations, when he gained Erfurt, Eichsfeld, Hildesheim, Paderborn, and a great part of the straggling bishopric of Muenster. Even at that time of shameless rapacity, there were those who saw that the gain of half a million of subjects to Prussia was a poor return for the loss of self-respect that befell all who shared in the sacrilegious plunder bartered away by Bonaparte and Talleyrand. Frederick William III. was even suspected of a leaning towards French methods of Government; and a Prussian statesman said to the French ambassador:

"You have only the nobles against you: the King and the people are openly for France. The revolution which you have made from below upwards will be slowly effected in Prussia from above downwards: the King is a democrat after his fashion: he is always striving to curtail the privileges of the nobles, but by slow means. In a few years feudal rights will cease to exist in Prussia."[54]

Could the King have carried out these much-needed reforms, he might perhaps have opposed a solid society to the renewed might of France. But he failed to set his house in order before the storm burst; and in 1803 he so far gave up his championship of North German affairs as to allow the French to occupy Hanover, a land that he and his Ministers had long coveted.

We saw in the last chapter that Hanover was the bait whereby Napoleon hooked the Prussian envoy, Haugwitz, at Schoenbrunn; and that the very man who had been sent to impose Prussia's will upon the French Emperor returned to Berlin bringing peace and dishonour. The surprise and annoyance of Frederick William may be imagined. On all sides difficulties were thickening around him. Shortly before the return of Haugwitz to Berlin, the Russian troops campaigning in Hanover had been placed under the protection of Prussia; and the King himself had offered to our Minister, Lord Harrowby, to protect Cathcart's Anglo-Hanoverian corps which, with the aid of Prussian troops, was restoring the authority of George III. in that Electorate.

Moreover, Frederick William could not complain of any shabby treatment from our Government. Knowing that he was set on the acquisition of Hanover and could only be drawn into the Coalition by an equally attractive offer, the Pitt Ministry had proposed through Lord Harrowby the cession to Prussia at the general peace of the lands south-west of the Duchy of Cleves, "bounded by a frontier line drawn from Antwerp to Luxemburg," and connected with the rest of her territories.[55] This plan, which would have planted Prussia firmly at Antwerp, Liege, Luxemburg, and Cologne, also aimed at installing the Elector of Salzburg in the rest of the new Rhenish acquisitions of France; while the equipoise of the Powers was to be adjusted by the cession of Salzburg, the Papal Legations, and the line of the Mincio to Austria, she in her turn giving up part of her Dalmatian lands to Russia. Prussia was to be the protectress of North Germany and regard any incursion of the French, "north of the Maine or at least of the Lahn," as an act of war. Great Britain, after subsidizing Prussia for 100,000 troops on the usual scale, pledged herself to restore all her conquests made, or to be made, during the war, with the exception of the Cape of Good Hope: but no questions were to be raised about that desirable colony, or Malta, or the British maritime code.[56]

At the close of 1805, then, Frederick William was face to face with the offers of England and those brought by Haugwitz from Napoleon. That is, he had to choose between the half of Belgium and the Rhineland as offered by England, or Hanover as a gift from Napoleon. The former gain was the richer, but apparently the more risky, for it entailed the hatred of France: the latter seemed to secure the friendship of the conqueror, though at the expense of the claims of honour and a naval war with England. His confidential advisers, Lombard, Beyme, and Haugwitz, were determined to gain the Electorate, preferably at Napoleon's hands; while his Foreign Minister, Hardenberg, a Hanoverian by birth, desired to assure the union of his native land with Prussia by more honourable means, and probably by means of an exchange with George III., which will be noticed presently. In his opposition to French influence, Hardenberg had the support of the more patriotic Prussians, who sought to safeguard Prussia's honour, and to avert war with England. The difficulty in accepting the Electorate at the point of Napoleon's sword was not merely on the score of morality: it was due to the presence of a large force of English, Hanoverians, and Russians on the banks of the Weser, and to the protection which the Prussian Government had offered to those troops against any French attack, always provided that they did not move against Holland and retired behind the Prussian battalions.[57] The indignation of British officers at this last order is expressed by Christian Ompteda, of the King's German Legion, in a letter to his brother at Berlin: "My dear fellow, if this sort of thing goes on, the Continent will soon be irrecoverably lost. The Russian and English armies will not long creep for refuge under the contemptible Prussian cloak. We are here, 40,000 of the best and bravest troops. A swift move on Holland only would have opened the road to certain success.... And this is Lombard's and Haugwitz's work!"[58]

What meanwhile were George III.'s Ministers doing? At this crisis English policy suffered a terrible blow. Death struck down the "stately column" that held up the swaying fortunes of our race. William Pitt, long failing in health, was sore-stricken by the news of Austerlitz and the defection of Austria. But the popular version as to the cause of his death—that Austerlitz killed Pitt—is more melodramatic than correct. Among the many causes that broke that unbending spirit, the news of the miserable result of the Hanoverian Expedition was the last and severest. The files of our Foreign Office papers yield touching proof of the hopes which the Cabinet cherished, even after Vienna was in Napoleon's hands. Harrowby was urged to do everything in his power—short of conceding Hanover—to bring Prussia into the field, in which case "nearly 300,000 men will be available in North Germany at the beginning of the next campaign, which will include 70,000 British and Hanoverian troops employed there or in maritime enterprises."[59] To this hope Pitt clung, even after hearing the news of Austerlitz, and it was doubtless this which enabled him to bear that last journey from Bath to Putney Heath, with less fatigue and far more quickly than had been expected. He arrived home on Saturday night, January 11th. On the following Wednesday his friend, George Rose, called on him and found that a serious change for the worse had set in.

"On the Sunday he was better, and continued improving till Monday in the afternoon, when Lord Castlereagh insisted on seeing him, and, having obtained access to him, entered (Lord Hawkesbury being also present) on points of public business of the most serious importance (principally respecting the bringing home the British troops from the Continent), which affected him visibly that evening and the next day, and this morning the effect was more plainly observed: ... his countenance is extremely changed, his voice weak, and his body almost wasted."

It is clear also from the medical evidence which the diarist gives that the news from Hanover was the cause of this sudden change. On the previous Sunday, that is, just after the fatigue of the three days' journey, the physicians "thought there was a reasonable prospect of Mr. Pitt's recovery, that the probability was in favour of it, and that, if his complaint should not take an unfavourable turn, he might be able to attend to business in about a month."[60] That unfavourable turn took place when the heroic spirit lost all hope under the distressing news from Berlin and Hanover. Austerlitz, it is true, had depressed him. Yet that, after all, did not concern British honour and the dearest interests of his master.

But, that Frederick William, from whom he had hoped so much, to whom he was on the point of advancing a great subsidy, should now fall away, should talk of peace with Napoleon and claim Hanover, should forbid an invasion of Holland and request the British forces to evacuate North Germany—this was a blow to George III., to our military prestige, and to the now tottering Ministry. How could he face the Opposition, already wellnigh triumphant in the sad Melville business, with a King's Speech in which this was the chief news? Losing hope, he lost all hold on life: he sank rapidly: in the last hours his thoughts wandered away to Berlin and Lord Harrowby. "What is the wind?" he asked. "East; that will do; that will bring him fast," he murmured. And, on January 23rd, about half an hour before he breathed his last, the servant heard him say: "My country: oh my country."[61]

Thus sank to rest, amidst a horror of great darkness, the statesman whose noon had been calm and glorious. Only a superficial reading of his career can represent him as eager for war and a foe to popular progress. His best friends knew full well his pride in the great financial achievements of 1784-6, his resolute clinging to peace in 1792, and his longing for a pacification in 1796, 1797, and 1800, provided it could be gained without detriment to our allies and to the vital interests of Britain. His defence lies buried amidst the documents of our Record Office, and has not yet fully seen the light. For he was a reserved man, the warmth of whose nature blossomed forth only to a few friends, or on such occasions as his inspired speech on the emancipation of slaves. To outsiders he had more than the usual fund of English coldness: he wrote no memoirs, he left few letters, he had scant means of influencing public opinion; and he viewed with lofty disdain the French clamour that it was he who made and kept up the war. "I know it," he said; "the Jacobins cry louder than we can, and make themselves heard."[62] He was, in fact, a typical champion of our rather dumb and stolid race, that plods along to the end of the appointed stage, scarcely heeding the cloud of stinging flies. Both the people and its champion were ill fitted to cope with Napoleon. None of our statesmen had the Latin tact and the histrionic gifts needful to fathom his guile, to arouse the public opinion of Europe against him, or to expose his double-dealing.

But Pitt was unfortunate above all of them. It was his fate to begin his career in an age of mediocrities and to finish it in an almost single combat with the giant. He was no match for Napoleon. The Coalition, which the Czar and he did so much to form, was a house of cards that fell at the conqueror's first touch; and the Prussian alliance now proved to be a broken reed. His notions of strategy were puerile. The French Emperor was not to be beaten by small forces tapping at his outworks; and Austria might reasonably complain that our neglect to attack the rear of the Grand Army in Flanders exposed her to the full force of its onset on the Danube. But though his genius pales before the fiery comet of Napoleon, it shines with a clear and steady radiance when viewed beside that of the Continental statesmen of his age. They flickered for a brief space and set. His was the rare virtue of dauntless courage and unswerving constancy. By the side of their wavering groups he stands forth like an Abdiel:

"Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal: Nor number nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth or change his constant mind, Though single."

While English statesmanship was essaying the task of forming a Coalition Ministry under Fox and Grenville, Napoleon with untiring activity was consolidating his position in Germany, Italy, and France. In Germany he allied his family by marriage with the now royal Houses of Bavaria and Wuertemberg. He chased the Bourbons of Naples from their Continental domains. In France he found means to mitigate a severe financial crisis, and to strengthen his throne by a new order of hereditary nobility. In a word, he became the new Charlemagne.

The exaltation of the South German dynasties had long been a favourite project with Napoleon, who saw in the hatred of the House of Bavaria for Austria a sure basis for spreading French influence into the heart of Germany. Not long after the battle of Austerlitz, the Elector of Bavaria, while out shooting, received from a French courier a letter directed to "Sa Majeste le Roi de Baviere et de Suabe."[63] This letter was despatched six days after a formal request was sent through Duroc, that the Elector would give his daughter Augusta in marriage to Eugene Beauharnais. The affair had been mooted in October: it was clinched by the victory of Austerlitz; and after Napoleon's arrival at Munich on the last day of the year, the final details were arranged. The bridegroom was informed of it in the following laconic style: "I have arrived at Munich. I have arranged your marriage with the Princess Augusta. It has been announced. This morning the princess visited me, and I spoke with her for a long time. She is very pretty. You will find herewith her portrait on a cup; but she is much better looking." The wedding took place at Munich as soon as the bridegroom could cross the Alps; and Napoleon delayed his departure for France in order to witness the ceremony which linked him with an old reigning family. At the same time he arranged a match between Jerome Bonaparte and Princess Catherine of Wuertemberg. This was less expeditious, partly because, in the case of a Bonaparte, Napoleon judged it needful to sound the measure of his obedience. But Jerome had been broken in: he had thrown over Miss Paterson, and, after a delay of a year and a half, obeyed his brother's behests, and strengthened the ties connecting Swabia with France. A third alliance was cemented by the marriage of the heir to the Grand Duchy of Baden with Stephanie de Beauharnais, niece of Josephine.

In the early part of 1806 Napoleon might flatter himself with his brilliant success as a match-maker. Yet, after all, he was less concerned with the affairs of Hymen than with those of Mars and Mercury. He longed to be at Paris for the settlement of finances; and he burned to hear of the expulsion of the Bourbons from Naples. For this last he had already sent forth his imperious mandates from Vienna; and, after a brief sojourn at the Swabian capitals, he set out for Paris, where he arrived incognito at midnight of January 26th. During his absence of one hundred and twenty-five days he had captured or destroyed two armies, stricken a mighty coalition to the heart, shattered the Hapsburg Power, and revolutionized the Germanic system by establishing two Napoleonic kingdoms in its midst.

Yet, as if nothing had been done, and all his hopes and thoughts lay in the future, he summoned his financial advisers to a council for eight o'clock in the morning. Scarcely did he deign to notice their congratulations on his triumphs. "We have," he said, "to deal with more serious questions: it seems that the greatest dangers of the State were not in Austria: let us hear the report of the Minister of the Treasury." It then appeared that Barbe-Marbois had been concerned in risky financial concerns with the Court of Spain, through a man named Ouvrard. The Minister therefore was promptly dismissed, and Mollien then and there received his post. The new Minister states in his memoirs that the money, which had sufficed to carry the French armies from the English Channel to the Rhine, had been raised on extravagant terms, largely on loans on the national domains. In fact, it had been an open question whether victory would come promptly enough to avert a wholesale crash at Paris.

So bad were the finances that, though 40,000,000 francs were poured every year into France as subsidies from Italy and Spain, yet loans of 120,000,000 francs had been incurred in order to meet current expenses.[64] It would exceed the limits of our space to describe by what forceful means Napoleon restored the financial equilibrium and assuaged the commercial crisis resulting from the war with England. Mollien soon had reason to know that, so far from avoiding Continental wars, the Emperor thenceforth seemed almost to provoke them, and that the motto—War must support war—fell far short of the truth. Napoleon's wars, always excepting his war with England, supported the burdens of an armed peace. In this respect his easy and gainful triumph over Austria was a disaster for France and Europe. It beckoned him on to Jena and Tilsit.

While reducing his finances to order and newspaper editors to servility, the conqueror received news of the triumph of his arms in Southern Italy. There the Bourbons of Naples had mortally offended him. After concluding a convention for the peaceable withdrawal of St. Cyr's corps and the strict observance of neutrality by the kingdom of Naples, Ferdinand IV. and his Queen Caroline welcomed the arrival at their capital of an Anglo-Russian force of 20,000 men, and intrusted the command of these and of the Neapolitan troops to General Lacy.[65] This force, it is true, did little except weaken the northward march of Massena; but the violation of neutrality by the Bourbons galled Napoleon. At Vienna he refused to listen to the timid pleading of the Hapsburgs on their behalf, and as soon as peace was signed at Pressburg he put forth a bulletin stating that St. Cyr was marching on Naples to hurl from the throne that guilty woman who had so flagrantly violated all that is sacred among men. France would fight for thirty years rather than pardon her atrocious act of perfidy: the Queen of Naples had ceased to reign: let her go to London and form a committee of sympathetic ink with Drake, Spencer-Smith, Taylor, and Wickham.

This diatribe was not the first occasion on which the conqueror had proved that he was no gentleman. In his brutal letter of January 2nd, 1805, to Queen Caroline, he told her that, if she was the cause of another war, she and her children would beg their bread all through Europe. That and similar outbursts afford some excuse for the conduct of the Bourbons in the autumn of 1805. They infringed the neutrality which their ambassador had engaged to observe: but it is to be remembered that Napoleon's invasion of the Neapolitan States in 1803 was a gross violation of international law, which the French Foreign Office sought to cloak by fabricating two secret articles of the Treaty of Amiens.[66] And though troth should doubtless be kept, even with a law-breaker, yet its violation becomes venial when the latter adopts the tone of a bully. For the present he triumphed. Joseph Bonaparte invaded Naples in force, and on January 13th the King, Queen, and Court set sail for Palermo. The Anglo-Russian divisions re-embarked and sailed away for Malta and Corfu. One of the Neapolitan strongholds, Gaeta, held out till the middle of July. Elsewhere the Bourbon troops gave little trouble.