Stadion's letters to Metternich show that he feared this result. He pressed him to end the seesaw policy of the last six months. "These people are beaten owing to our faults, our half wishes, our half measures, and presently they will get out of the scrape and leave us to pay the price." As for Austria's forthcoming demand of Illyria, who would guarantee that the French Emperor would let her keep it six months, if he remained master of Germany and Italy? Only by a close union with the allies could she be screened from Napoleon's vengeance, which must otherwise lead to her utter destruction. Let, then, all timid counsellors be removed from the side of the Emperor Francis. "I cling to my oft-expressed conviction that we are no longer masters of our own affairs, and that the tide of events will carry us along."[323] If we may judge from Metternich's statements in his "Memoirs," written many years later, he was all along in secret sympathy with these views. But his actions and his official despatches during the first six weeks of the armistice bore another complexion; they were almost colourless, or rather, they were chameleonic. At Dresden they seemed, on the whole, to be favourable to France: at Reichenbach, when coloured by Stadion, they were thought to hold out the prospect of another European coalition.

A new and important development was given to Austrian policy when, on June 7th, Metternich drew up the conditions on which Austria would insist as the basis of her armed mediation. They were as follows: (1) Dissolution of the Duchy of Warsaw; (2) A consequent reconstruction of Prussia, with the certainty of recovering Danzig; (3) Restitution of the Illyrian provinces, including Dalmatia, to Austria; (4) Re-establishment of the Hanse Towns, and an eventual arrangement as to the cession of the other parts of the 32nd military division [the part of North Germany annexed by Napoleon in 1810]. To these were added two other conditions on which Austria would lay great stress, namely: (5) Dissolution of the Confederation of the Rhine; (6) Reconstruction of Prussia conformably with her territorial extent previous to 1805.

At first sight these terms seem favourable to the allied cause; but they were much less extensive than the proposals submitted by Alexander in the middle of May. Therefore, when they were set forth to the allies at Reichenbach, they were unfavourably received, and for some days suspicion of Austria overclouded the previous goodwill. It was removed only by the labours of Stadion and by the tact which Metternich displayed during an interview with the Czar at Opotschna (June 17th).

Alexander came there prejudiced against Metternich as a past master in the arts of double-dealing: he went away convinced that he meant well for the allies. "What will become of us," asked the Czar, "if Napoleon accepts your mediation?" To which the statesman replied: "If he refuses it, the truce will be at an end, and you will find us in the ranks of your allies. If he accepts it, the negotiations will prove to a certainty that Napoleon is neither wise nor just; and the issue will be the same." Alexander knew enough of his great enemy's character to discern the sagacity of Metternich's forecast; and both Frederick William and he agreed to the Austrian terms.[324] Accordingly, on June 27th, a treaty was secretly signed at Reichenbach, wherein Austria pledged herself to an active alliance with Russia and Prussia in case Napoleon should not, by the end of the armistice, have acceded to her four conditiones sine quibus non. To these was now added a demand for the evacuation of all Polish and Prussian fortresses by French troops, a stipulation which it was practically certain that Napoleon would refuse.[325]

The allies meanwhile were gaining the sinews of war from England. The Czar had informed Cathcart at Kalisch that, though he did not press our Government for subsidies, yet he would not be able to wage a long campaign without such aid. On June 14th and 15th, our ambassador signed treaties with Russia and Prussia, whereby we agreed to aid the former by a yearly subsidy of L1,133,334, and the latter by a sum of half that amount, and to meet all the expenses of the Russian fleet then in our harbours. The Czar and the King of Prussia bound themselves to maintain in the field (exclusive of garrisons) 160,000 and 80,000 men respectively.[326]

There was every reason for these preparations. Everything showed that Napoleon was bent on browbeating the allies. On June 17th Napoleon's troops destroyed or captured Luetzow's volunteers at Kitzen near Leipzig. The excuse for this act was that Luetzow had violated the armistice; but he had satisfied Nisas, the French officer there in command, that he was loyally observing it. Nevertheless, his brigade was cut to pieces. The protests of the allies received no response except that Luetzow's men might be exchanged—as if they had been captured in fair fight. Finally, Napoleon refused to hear the statement of Nisas in his own justification, reproached him for casting a slur on the conduct of French troops, and deprived him of his command.[327]

But it was Napoleon's bearing towards Metternich, in an interview held on June 26th at the Marcolini Palace at Dresden, that most clearly revealed the inflexibility of his policy. Ostensibly, the interview was fixed in order to arrange the forms of the forthcoming Congress that was to insure the world's peace. In reality, however, Napoleon hoped to intimidate the Austrian statesman, and to gather from him the results of his recent interview with the Czar. Carrying his sword at his side and his hat under his arm, he received Metternich in state. After a few studied phrases about the health of the Emperor Francis, his brow clouded and he plunged in medias res: "So you too want war: well, you shall have it. I have beaten the Russians at Bautzen: now you wish your turn to come. Be it so, the rendezvous shall be in Vienna. Men are incorrigible: experience is lost upon you. Three times I have replaced the Emperor Francis on his throne. I have promised always to live at peace with him: I have married his daughter. At the time I said to myself—you are perpetrating a folly; but it was done, and now I repent of it."

Metternich saw his advantage: his adversary had lost his temper and forgotten his dignity. He calmly reminded Napoleon that peace depended on him; that his power must be reduced within reasonable limits, or he would fall in the ensuing struggle. No matador fluttered the cloak more dextrously. Napoleon rushed on. No coalition should daunt him: he could overpower any number of men—everything except the cold of Russia—and the losses of that campaign had been made good. He then diverged into stories about that war, varied by digressions as to his exact knowledge of Austria's armaments, details of which were sent to him daily. To end this wandering talk, Metternich reminded him that his troops now were not men but boys. Whereupon the Emperor passionately replied: "You do not know what goes on in the mind of a soldier; a man such as I does not take much heed of the lives of a million of men,"—and he threw aside his hat. Metternich did not pick it up.

Napoleon noticed the unspoken defiance, and wound up by saying: "When I married an Archduchess I tried to weld the new with the old, Gothic prejudices with the institutions of my century: I deceived myself, and this day I see the whole extent of my error. It may cost me my throne, but I will bury the world beneath its ruins." In dismissing Metternich, the Emperor used the device which, shortly before the rupture with England in 1803, he had recommended Talleyrand to employ upon Whitworth, namely, after trying intimidation to resort to cajolery. Touching the Minister on the shoulder, he said quietly: "Well, now, do you know what will happen? You will not make war on me?" To which came the quick reply: "You are lost, Sire; I had the presentiment of it when I came: now, in going, I have the certainty." In the anteroom the generals crowded around the illustrious visitor. Berthier had previously begged him to remember that Europe, and France, urgently needed peace; and now, on conducting him to his carriage, he asked him whether he was satisfied with Napoleon. "Yes," was the answer, "he has explained everything to me: it is all over with the man."[328]

Substantially, this was the case. Napoleon's resentment against Austria, not unnatural under the circumstances, had hurried him into outbursts that revealed the inner fires of his passion. In a second interview, on June 30th, he was far more gracious, and allowed Austria to hope that she would gain Illyria. He also accepted Austria's mediation; and it was stipulated that a Congress should meet at Prague for the discussion of a general pacification. Metternich appeared highly pleased with this condescension, but he knew by experience that Napoleon's caresses were as dangerous as his wrath; and he remained on his guard. The Emperor soon disclosed his real aim. In gracious tones he added: "But this is not all: I must have a prolongation of the armistice. How can we between July 5th and 20th end a negotiation which ought to embrace the whole world?" He proposed August 20th as the date of its expiration. To this Metternich demurred because the allies already thought the armistice too long for their interests. August 10th was finally agreed on, but not without much opposition on the part of the allied generals, who insisted that such a prolongation would greatly embarrass them.

Outwardly, this new arrangement seemed to portend peace: but it is significant that on June 28th Napoleon wrote to Eugene that all the probabilities appeared for war; and on June 30th he wrote his father-in-law a cold and almost threatening letter.[329]

Late on that very evening came to hand the first report of the disaster of Vittoria. Despite all Napoleon's precautions, the news leaked out at Dresden. Bubna's despatches of July 5th, 6th, and 7th soon made it known to the Emperor Francis, then at Brandeis in Bohemia. Thence it reached the allied monarchs and Bernadotte on July 12th at Trachenberg in the midst of negotiations which will be described presently. The effect of the news was very great. The Czar at once ordered a Te Deum to be sung: "It is the first instance," wrote Cathcart, "of a Te Deum having been sung at this Court for a victory in which the forces of the Russian Empire were not engaged."[330] But its results were more than ceremonial: they were practical. Our envoy, Thornton, who followed Bernadotte to Trachenberg, states that Bubna had learnt that Wellington had completely routed three French corps with a debandade like that of the retreat from Moscow. Thornton adds: "The Prince Royal [Bernadotte] thinks that the French army will be very soon withdrawn from Silesia and that Buonaparte must soon commence his retreat nearer the Rhine. I have no doubt of its effect upon Austria. This is visible in the answer of the Emperor [Francis] to the Prince, which came to-day from the Austrian head-quarters." That letter, dated July 9th, was indeed of the most cordial character. It expressed great pleasure at hearing that "the obstacles which seemed to hinder the co-operation of the forces under your Royal Highness are now removed. I regard this co-operation as one of the surest supports of the cause which the Powers may once more be called on to defend by a war which can only offer chances of success unless sustained by the greatest and most unanimous measures."[331] Further than this Francis could scarcely go without pledging himself unconditionally to an alliance; and doubtless it was the news of Vittoria that evoked these encouraging assurances.

It is even more certain that the compact of Trachenberg also helped to end the hesitations of Austria. This compact arose out of the urgent need of adopting a general plan of campaign, and, above all, of ending the disputes between the allied sovereigns and Bernadotte. The Prince Royal of Sweden had lost their confidence through his failure to save Hamburg from the French and Danes. Yet, on his side, he had some cause for complaint. In the previous summer, Alexander led him to expect the active aid of 35,000 Russian troops for a campaign in Norway: but, mainly at the instance of England, he now landed in Pomerania and left Sweden exposed to a Danish attack on the side of Norway. He therefore suggested an interview with the allied sovereigns, a request which was warmly seconded by Castlereagh.[332] Accordingly it took place at Trachenberg, a castle north of Breslau, with the happiest results. The warmth of the great Gascon's manner cleared away all clouds, and won the approval of Frederick William.

There was signed the famous compact, or plan, of Trachenberg (July 12th). It bound the allies to turn their main forces against Napoleon's chief army, wherever it was: those allied corps that threatened his flanks or communications were to act on the line that most directly cut into them: and the salient bastion of Bohemia was expressly named as offering the greatest advantages for attacking Napoleon's main force. The first and third of these axioms were directly framed so as to encourage Austria: the second aimed at concentrating Bernadotte's force on the main struggle and preventing his waging war merely against Denmark.

The plan went even further: 100,000 allied troops were to be sent into Bohemia, as soon as the armistice should cease, so as to form in all an army of 200,000 men. On the north, Bernadotte, after detaching a corps towards Hamburg, was to advance with a Russo-Prusso-Swedish army of 70,000 men towards the middle course of the Elbe, his objective being Leipzig; and the rest of the allied forces, those remaining in Silesia, were to march towards Torgau, and thus threaten Napoleon's positions in Saxony from the East. This plan of campaign was an immense advance on those of the earlier coalitions. There was no reliance here on lines and camps: the days of Mack and Phull were past: the allies had at last learnt from Napoleon the need of seeking out the enemy's chief army, and of flinging at it all the available forces. Politically, also, the compact deserves notice. In concerting a plan of offensive operations from Bohemia, the allies were going far to determine the conduct of Austria.

On that same day the peace Congress was opened at Prague. Its proceedings were farcical from the outset. Only Anstett and Humboldt, the Russian and Prussian envoys, were at hand; and at the appointment of the former, an Alsatian by birth, Napoleon expressed great annoyance. The difficulties about the armistice also gave him the opportunity, which he undoubtedly sought, of further delaying negotiations. In vain did Metternich point out to the French envoy, Narbonne, at Prague, that these frivolous delays must lead to war if matters were not amicably settled by August 10th, at midnight.[333] In vain did Narbonne and Caulaincourt beg their master to seize this opportunity for concluding a safe and honourable peace. It was not till the middle of July that he appointed them his plenipotentiaries at the Congress; and, even then, he retained the latter at Dresden, while the former fretted in forced inaction at Prague. "I send you more powers than power," wrote Maret to Narbonne with cynical jauntiness: "you will have your hands tied, but your legs and mouth free so that you may walk about and dine."[334] At last, on the 26th, Caulaincourt received his instructions; but what must have been the anguish of this loyal son of France to see that Napoleon was courting war with a united Europe. Austria, said his master, was acting as mediator: and the mediator ought not to look for gains: she had made no sacrifice and deserved to gain nothing at all: her claims were limitless; and every concession granted by France would encourage her to ask for more: he was disposed to make peace with Russia on satisfactory terms so as to punish Austria for her bad faith in breaking the alliance of 1812.[335]

Such trifling with the world's peace seems to belong, not to the sphere of history, but to the sombre domain of Greek tragedy, where mortals full blown with pride rush blindly on the embossed bucklers of fate. For what did Austria demand of him? She proposed to leave him master of all the lands from the swamps of the Ems down to the Roman Campagna: Italy was to be his, along with as much of the Iberian Peninsula as he could hold. His control of Illyria, North Germany, and the Rhenish Confederation he must give up. But France, Belgium, Holland, and Italy would surely form a noble realm for a man who had lost half a million of men, and was even now losing Spain. Yet his correspondence proves that, even so, he thought little of his foes, and, least of all, of the Congress at Prague.

Leaving his plenipotentiaries tied down to the discussion of matters of form, he set out from Dresden on July 24th for a visit to Mainz, where he met the Empress and reviewed his reserves. Every item of news fed his warlike resolve. Soult, with nearly 100,000 men, was about to relieve Pamplona (so he wrote to Caulaincourt): the English were retiring in confusion: 12,000 veteran horsemen from his armies in Spain would soon be on the Rhine; but they could not be on the Elbe before September. If the allies wanted a longer armistice, he (Napoleon) would agree to it: if they wished to fight, he was equally ready, even against the Austrians as well.[336]

To Davoust, at Hamburg, he expressed himself as if war was certain; and he ordered Clarke, at Paris, to have 110,000 muskets made by the end of the year, so that, in all, 400,000 would be ready. Letters about the Congress are conspicuous by their absence; and everything proves that, as he wrote to Clarke at the beginning of the armistice, he purposed striking his great blows in September. Little by little we see the emergence of his final plan—to overthrow Russia and Prussia, while, for a week or two, he amused Austria with separate overtures at Prague.

But, during eight years of adversity, European statesmen had learnt that disunion spelt disaster; and it was evident that Napoleon's delays were prompted solely by the need of equipping and training his new cavalry brigades. As for the Congress, no one took it seriously. Gentz, who was then in close contact with Metternich, saw how this tragi-comedy would end. "We believe that on his return to Dresden, Napoleon will address to this Court a solemn Note in which he will accuse everybody of the delays which he himself has caused, and will end up by proclaiming a sort of ultimatum. Our reply will be a declaration of war."[337]

This was what happened. As July wore on and brought no peaceful overtures, but rather a tightening of Napoleon's coils in Saxony, Bavaria, and Illyria, the Emperor Francis inclined towards war. As late as July 18th he wrote to Metternich that he was still for peace, provided that Illyria could be gained.[338]

But the French military preparations decided him, a few days later, to make war, unless every one of the Austrian demands should be conceded by August 10th. His counsellors had already come to that conclusion, as our records prove. On July 20th Stadion wrote to Cathcart urging him to give pecuniary aid to General Nugent, who would wait on him to concert means for rousing a revolt against Napoleon in Tyrol and North Italy; and our envoy agreed to give L5,000 a month for the "support of 5,000 Austrians acting in communication with our squadron in the Adriatic." This step met with Metternich's approval; and, when writing to Stadion from Prague (July 25th), he counselled Cathcart to send a despatch to Wellington and urge him to make a vigorous move against the south of France. He (Metternich) would have the letter sent safely through Switzerland and the south of France direct to our general.[339]

With the solemn triflings of the Congress we need not concern ourselves. The French plenipotentiaries saw clearly that their master "would allow of no peace but that which he should himself dictate with his foot on the enemy's neck." Yet they persevered in their thankless task, for "who could tell whether the Emperor, when he found himself placed between highly favourable conditions and the fear of having 200,000 additional troops against him, might not hesitate; whether just one grain of common sense, one spark of wisdom, might not enter his head?" Alas! That brain was now impervious to advice; and the young De Broglie, from whom we quote this extract, sums up the opinion of the French plenipotentiaries in the trenchant phrase, "the devil was in him."[340]

But there was method in his madness. In the Dresden interview he had warned Metternich that not till the eleventh hour would he disclose his real demands. And now was the opportunity of trying the effect of a final act of intimidation. On August 4th he was back again in Dresden: on the next day he dictated the secret conditions on which he would accept Austria's mediation; and, on August 6th, Caulaincourt paid Metternich a private visit to find out what Austria's terms really were. After a flying visit to the Emperor Francis at Brandeis, the Minister brought back as an ultimatum the six terms drawn up on June 7th (see p. 316); and to these he now added another which guaranteed the existing possessions of every State, great or small.

Napoleon was taken aback by this boldness, which he attributed to the influence of Spanish affairs and to English intrigues.[341] On August 9th he summoned Bubna and offered to give up the Duchy of Warsaw—provided that the King of Saxony gained an indemnity—also the Illyrian Provinces (but without Istria), as well as Danzig, if its fortifications were destroyed. As for the Hanse Towns and North Germany, he would not hear of letting them go. Bubna thought that Austria would acquiesce. But she had said her last word: she saw that Napoleon was trifling with her until he had disposed of Russia and Prussia. And, at midnight of August 10th, beacon fires on the heights of the Riesengebirge flashed the glad news to the allies in Silesia that they might begin to march their columns into Bohemia. The second and vaster Act in the drama of liberation had begun.

Did Napoleon remember, in that crisis of his destiny, that it was exactly twenty-one years since the downfall of the old French monarchy, when he looked forth on the collapse of the royalist defence at the Tuileries and the fruitless bravery of the Swiss Guards?

* * * * *



CHAPTER XXXV

DRESDEN AND LEIPZIG

The militant Revolution had now attained its majority. It had to confront an embattled Europe. Hitherto the jealousies or fears of the Eastern Powers had prevented any effective union. The Austro-Prussian league of 1792 was of the loosest description owing to the astute neutrality of the Czarina Catherine. In 1798 and 1805 Prussia seemed to imitate her policy, and only after Austria had been crushed did the army of Frederick the Great try conclusions with Napoleon. In the Jena and Friedland campaigns, the Hapsburgs played the part of the sulking Achilles, and met their natural reward in 1809. The war of 1812 marshalled both Austria and Prussia as vassal States in Napoleon's crusade against Russia. But it also brought salvation, and Napoleon's fateful obstinacy during the negotiations at Prague virtually compelled his own father-in-law to draw the sword against him. Ostensibly, the points at issue were finally narrowed down to the control of the Confederation of the Rhine, the ownership of North Germany, and a few smaller points. But really there was a deeper cause, the character of Napoleon.

The vindictiveness with which he had trampled on his foes, his almost superhuman lust of domination, and the halting way in which he met all overtures for a compromise—this it was that drove the Hapsburgs into an alliance with their traditional foes. His conduct may be explained on diverse grounds, as springing from the vendetta instincts of his race, or from his still viewing events through the distorting medium of the Continental System, or from his ingrained conviction that, at bottom, rulers are influenced only by intimidation.

In any case, he had now succeeded in bringing about the very thing which Charles James Fox had declared to be impossible. In opening the negotiations for peace with France in April, 1806, our Foreign Minister had declared to Talleyrand that "the project of combining the whole of Europe against France is to the last degree chimerical." Yet Great Britain and the Spanish patriots, after struggling alone against the conqueror from 1808 to 1812, saw Russia, Sweden, Prussia, and Austria, successively range themselves on their side. It is true, the Germans of the Rhenish Confederation, the Italians, Swiss, and Danes were still enrolled under the banners of the new Charlemagne; but, with the exception of the last, they fought wearily or questioningly, as for a cause that promised naught but barren triumphs and unending strife.

Truly, the years that witnessed Napoleon's fall were fruitful in paradox. The greatest political genius of the age, for lack of the saving grace of moderation, had banded Europe against him: and the most calculating of commanders had also given his enemies time to frame an effective military combination. The Prussian General von Boyen has told us in his Memoirs how dismayed ardent patriots were at the conclusion of the armistice in June, and how slow even the wiser heads were to see that it would benefit their cause. If Napoleon needed it in order to train his raw conscripts and organize new brigades of cavalry, the need of the allies was even greater. Their resources were far less developed than his own. At Bautzen, their army was much smaller; and Boyen states that had the Emperor pushed them hard, driven the Russians back into Poland and called the Poles once more to arms, the allies must have been in the most serious straits.[342]

Napoleon, it is true, gained much by the armistice. His conscripts profited immensely by the training of those nine weeks: his forces now threatened Austria on the side of Bavaria and Illyria, as well as from the newly intrenched camp south of Dresden: his cavalry was re-recovering its old efficiency: Murat, in answer to his imperious summons, ended his long vacillations and joined the army at Dresden on August 14th.

Above all, the French now firmly held that great military barrier, the River Elbe. Napoleon's obstinacy during the armistice was undoubtedly fed by his boundless confidence in the strength of his military position. In vain did his Marshals remind him that he was dangerously far from France; that, if Austria drew the sword, she could cut him off from the Rhine, and that the Saale, or even the Rhine itself, would be a safer line of defence.—Ten battles lost, he retorted, would scarcely force him to that last step. True, he now exposed his line of communications with France; but if the art of war consisted in never running any risk, glory would be the prize of mediocre minds. He must have a complete triumph. The question was not of abandoning this or that province: his political superiority was at stake. At Marengo, Austerlitz, and Wagram, he was in greater danger. His forces now were not in the air; they rested on the Elbe, on its fortresses, and on Erfurt. Dresden was the pivot on which all his movements turned. His enemies were spread out on a circumference stretching from Prague to Berlin, while he was at the centre; and, operating on interior and therefore shorter lines, he could outmarch and outmanoeuvre them. "But," he concluded, "where I am not my lieutenants must wait for me without trusting anything to chance. The allies cannot long act together on lines so extended, and can I not reasonably hope sooner or later to catch them in some false move? If they venture between my fortified lines of the Elbe and the Rhine, I will enter Bohemia and thus take them in the rear."[343]

The plan promised much. The central intrenched camps of Dresden and Pirna, together with the fortresses of Koenigstein above, and of Torgau below, the Saxon capital, gave great strategic advantages. The corps of St. Cyr at Koenigstein and those of Vandamme, Poniatowski, and Victor further to the east, watched the defiles leading from Bohemia. The corps of Macdonald, Lauriston, Ney, and Marmont held in check Bluecher's army of Silesia. On Napoleon's left, and resting on the fortresses of Wittenberg and Magdeburg, the corps of Oudinot, Bertrand, and Reynier threatened Berlin and Bernadotte's army of the north cantonned in its neighbourhood; while Davoust at Hamburg faced Bernadotte's northern detachments and menaced his communications with Stralsund. Davoust certainly was far away, and the loss of this ablest of Napoleon's lieutenants was severely to be felt in the subsequent complicated moves; with this exception, however, Napoleon's troops were well in hand and had the advantage of the central position, while the allies were, as yet, spread out on an extended arc.

But Napoleon once more made the mistake of underrating both the numbers and the abilities of his foes. By great exertions they now had close on half a million of men under arms, near the banks of the Oder and the Elbe, or advancing from Poland and Hungary. True, many of these were reserves or raw recruits, and Colonel Cathcart doubted whether the Austrian reserves were then in existence.[344] But the best authorities place the total at 496,000 men and 1,443 cannon. Moreover, as was agreed on at Trachenberg, 77,000 Russians and 49,000 Prussians now marched from Glatz and Schweidnitz into Bohemia, and speedily came into touch with the 110,000 Austrians now ranged behind the River Eger. The formation of this allied Grand Army was a masterly step. Napoleon did not hear of it before August 16th, and it was not until a week later that he realized how vast were the forces that would threaten his rear. For the present his plan was to hold the Bohemian passes south of Bautzen and Pirna, so as to hinder any invasion of Saxony, while he threw himself in great force on the Army of Silesia, now 95,000 strong, though he believed it to number only 50,000.[345] While he was crushing Bluecher, his lieutenants, Oudinot, Reynier, and Bertrand, were charged to drive Bernadotte's scattered corps from Berlin; whereupon Davoust was to cut him off from the sea and relieve the French garrisons at Stettin and Kuestrin. Thus Napoleon proposed to act on the offensive in the open country towards Berlin and in Silesia, remaining at first on the defensive at Dresden and in the Lusatian mountains. This was against the advice of Marmont, who urged him to strike first at Prague, and not to intrust his lieutenants with great undertakings far away from Dresden. The advice proved to be sound; but it seems certain that Napoleon intended to open the campaign by a mighty blow dealt at Bluecher, and then to lead a great force through the Lusatian defiles into Bohemia and drive the allies before him towards Vienna.

But what did he presume that the allied forces in Bohemia would be doing while he overwhelmed Bluecher in Silesia? Would not Dresden and his communications with France be left open to their blows? He decided to run this risk. He had 100,000 men among the Lusatian hills between Bautzen and Zittau. St. Cyr's corps was strongly posted at Pirna and the small fortress of Koenigstein, while his light troops watched the passes north of Teplitz and Karlsbad. If the allies sought to invade Saxony, they would, so Napoleon thought, try to force the Zittau road, which presented few natural difficulties. If they threatened Dresden by the passages further west, Vandamme would march from near Zittau to reinforce St. Cyr, or, if need be, the Emperor himself would hurry back from Silesia with his Guards. If the enemy invaded Bavaria, Napoleon wished them bon voyage: they would soon come back faster than they went; for, in that case, he would pour his columns down from Zittau towards Prague and Vienna. The thought that he might for a time be cut off from France troubled him not: "400,000 men," he said, "resting on a system of strongholds, on a river like the Elbe, are not to be turned." In truth, he thought little about the Bohemian army. If 40,000 Russians had entered Bohemia, they would not reach Prague till the 25th; so he wrote to St. Cyr On the 17th, the day when hostilities could first begin; and he evidently believed that Dresden would be safe till September. Its defence seemed assured by the skill of that master of defensive warfare, St. Cyr, by the barrier of the Erz Mountains, and still more by Austrian slowness.

Of this characteristic of theirs he cherished great hopes. Their finances were in dire disorder; and Fouche, who had just returned from a tour in the Hapsburg States, reported that the best way of striking at that Power would be "to affect its paper currency, on which all its armaments depend."[346] And truly if the transport of a great army over a mountain range had depended solely on the almost bankrupt exchequer at Vienna, Dresden would have been safe until Michaelmas; but, beside the material aid brought by the Russians and Prussians into Bohemia, England also gave her financial support. In pursuance of the secret article agreed on at Reichenbach, Cathcart now advanced L250,000 at once; and the knowledge that our financial support was given to the federative paper notes issued by the allies enabled the Court of Vienna privately to raise loans and to wage war with a vigour wholly unexpected by Napoleon.[347]

Certainly the allied Grand Army suffered from no lack of advisers. The Czar, the Emperor Francis, and the King of Prussia were there; as a compliment to Austria, the command was intrusted to Field-Marshal Schwarzenberg, a man of diplomatic ability rather than of military genius. By his side were the Russians, Wittgenstein, Barclay, and Toll, the Prussian Knesebeck, the Swiss Jomini, and, above all, Moreau.

The last-named, as we have seen, came over on the inducement of Bernadotte, and was received with great honour by the allied sovereigns. Jomini also was welcomed for his knowledge of the art of war. This great writer had long served as a French general; but the ill-treatment that he had lately suffered at Berthier's hands led him, on August 14th, to quit the French service and pass over to the allies. His account of his desertion, however, makes it clear that he had not penetrated Napoleon's designs, for the best of all reasons, because the Emperor kept them to himself to the very last moment.[348]

The second part of the campaign opens with the curious sight of immense forces, commanded by experienced leaders, acting in complete ignorance of the moves of the enemy only some fifty miles away. Leaving Bautzen on August 17th, Napoleon proceeded eastwards to Goerlitz, turned off thence to Zittau, and hearing a false rumour that the Russo-Prussian force in Bohemia was only 40,000 strong, returned to Goerlitz with the aim of crushing Bluecher. Disputes about the armistice had given that enterprising leader the excuse for entering the neutral zone before its expiration; and he had had sharp affairs with Macdonald and Ney near Loewenberg on the River Bober. Napoleon hurried up with his Guards, eager to catch Bluecher;[349] the French were now 140,000 strong, while the allies had barely 95,000 at hand. But the Prussian veteran, usually as daring as a lion, was now wily as a fox. Under cover of stiff outpost affairs, he skilfully withdrew to the south-east, hoping to lure the French into the depths of Silesia and so give time to Schwarzenberg to seize Dresden.



But Napoleon was not to be drawn further afield. Seeing that his foes could not be forced to a pitched battle, he intrusted the command to Macdonald, and rapidly withdrew with Ney and his Guard towards Goerlitz; for he now saw the possible danger to Dresden if Schwarzenberg struck home. If, however, that leader remained on the defensive, the Emperor determined to fall back on what had all along been his second plan, and make a rush through the Lusatian defiles on Prague.[350] But a despatch from St. Cyr, which reached him at Goerlitz late at night on the 23rd, showed that Dresden was in serious danger from the gathering masses of the allies. This news consigned his second plan to the limbo of vain hopes. Yet, as will appear a little later, his determination to defend by taking the offensive soon took form in yet a third design for the destruction of the allies.

It is a proof of the quenchless pugnacity of his mind that he framed this plan during the fatigues of the long forced march back towards Dresden, amidst pouring rain and the discouragement of knowing that his raid into Silesia had ended merely in the fruitless wearying of his choicest troops. Accompanied by the Old Guard, the Young Guard, a division of infantry, and Latour-Maubourg's cavalry, he arrived at Stolpen, south-east of Dresden, before dawn of the 25th. Most of the battalions had traversed forty miles in little more than forty-eight hours, and that, too, after a partial engagement at Loewenberg, and despite lack of regular rations. Leaving him for a time, we turn to glance at the fortunes of the war in Brandenburg and Silesia.

Napoleon had bidden Oudinot, with his own corps and those of Reynier and Bertrand, in all about 70,000 men, to fight his way to Berlin, disperse the Landwehr and the "mad rabble" there, and, if the city resisted, set it in flames by the fire of fifty howitzers. That Marshal found that a tough resistance awaited him, although the allied commander-in-chief, Bernadotte, moved with the utmost caution, as if he were bent on justifying Napoleon's recent sneer that he would "only make a show" (piaffer). It is true that the position of the Swedish Prince, with Davoust threatening his rear, was far from safe; but he earned the dislike of the Prussians by playing the grand seigneur.[351] Meanwhile most of the defence was carried out by the Prussians, who flooded the flat marshy land, thus delaying Oudinot's advance and compelling him to divide his corps. Nevertheless, it seemed that Bernadotte was about to evacuate Berlin.

At this there was general indignation, which found vent in the retort of the Prussian General, von Buelow: "Our bones shall bleach in front of Berlin, not behind it." Seeing an opportune moment while Oudinot's other corps were as yet far off, Buelow sharply attacked Reynier's corps of Saxons at Grossbeeren, and gained a brilliant success, taking 1,700 prisoners with 26 guns, and thus compelling Oudinot's scattered array to fall back in confusion on Wittenberg (August 23rd).[352] Thither the Crown Prince cautiously followed him. Four days later, a Prussian column of Landwehr fought a desperate fight at Hagelberg with Girard's conscripts, finally rushing on them with wolf-like fury, stabbing and clubbing them, till the foss and the lanes of the town were piled high with dead and wounded. Scarce 1,700 out of Girard's 9,000 made good their flight to Magdeburg. The failures at Grossbeeren and Hagelberg reacted unfavourably on Davoust. That leader, advancing into Mecklenburg, had skirmished with Walmoden's corps of Hanoverians, British, and Hanseatics; but, hearing of the failure of the other attempts on Berlin, he fell back and confined himself mainly to a defensive which had never entered into the Emperor's designs on that side, or indeed on any side.

Even when Napoleon left Macdonald facing Bluecher in Silesia, his orders were, not merely to keep the allies in check: if possible Macdonald was to attack him and drive him beyond the town of Jauer.[353] This was what the French Marshal attempted to do on the 26th of August. The conditions seemed favourable to a surprise. Bluecher's army was stationed amidst hilly country deeply furrowed by the valleys of the Katzbach and the "raging Neisse."[354] Less than half of the allied army of 95,000 men was composed of Prussians: the Russians naturally obeyed his orders with some reluctance, and even his own countryman, Yorck, grudgingly followed the behests of the "hussar general."

Macdonald also hoped to catch the allies while they were sundered by the deep valley of the Neisse. The Prussians with the Russian corps led by Sacken were to the east of the Neisse near the village of Eichholz, the central point of the plateau north of Jauer, which was the objective of the French right wing; while Langeron's Russian corps was at Hennersdorf, some three miles away and on the west of that torrent. On his side, Bluecher was planning an attack on Macdonald, when he heard that the French had crossed the Neisse near its confluence with the Katzbach, and were struggling up the streaming gullies that led to Eichholz.

Driving rain-storms hid the movements on both sides, and as Souham, who led the French right, had neglected to throw out flanking scouts, the Prussian staff-officer, Muffling, was able to ride within a short distance of the enemy's columns and report to his chief that they could be assailed before their masses were fully deployed on the plateau. While Souham's force was still toiling up, Sacken's artillery began to ply it with shot, and had Yorck charged quickly with his corps of Prussians, the day might have been won forthwith. But that opinionated general insisted on leisurely deploying his men. Souham was therefore able to gain a foothold on the plateau: Sebastiani's men dragged up twenty-four light cannon: and at times the devoted bravery of the French endangered the defence. But the defects in their position slowly but surely told against them, and the vigour of their attack spent itself. Their cavalry was exhausted by the mud: their muskets were rendered wellnigh useless by the ceaseless rain; and when Bluecher late in the afternoon headed a dashing charge of Prussian and Russian horsemen, the wearied conscripts gave way, fled pell-mell down the slopes, and made for the fords of the Neisse and the Katzbach, where many were engulfed by the swollen waters. Meanwhile the Russians on the allied left barely kept off Lauriston's onsets, and on that side the day ended in a drawn fight. Macdonald, however, seeing Lauriston's rear threatened by the advance of the Prussians over the Katzbach, retreated during the night with all his forces. On the next few days, the allies, pressing on his wearied and demoralized troops, completed their discomfiture, so that Bluecher, on the 1st of September, was able thus to sum up the results of the battle and the pursuit—two eagles, 103 cannon, 18,000 men, and a vast quantity of ammunition and stores captured, and Silesia entirely freed from the foe.[355]

We now return to the events that centred at Dresden. When, on August 21st and 22nd, the allies wound their way through the passes of the Erz, they were wholly ignorant of Napoleon's whereabouts. The generals, Jomini and Toll, who were acquainted with the plan of operations agree in stating that the aim of the allies was to seize Leipzig. The latter asserts that they believed Napoleon to be there, while the Swiss strategist saw in this movement merely a means of effecting a junction with Bernadotte's army, so as to cut off Napoleon from the Rhine.[356] Unaware that the rich prize of Dresden was left almost within their grasp by Napoleon's eastward move, the allies plodded on towards Freiberg and Chemnitz, when, on the 23rd, the capture of one of St. Cyr's despatches flashed the truth upon them.

At once they turned eastwards towards Dresden; but so slow was their progress over the wretched cross-roads now cut up by the rains, that not till the early morning of the 25th did the heads of their columns appear on the heights south-west of the Saxon capital. Yet, even so, the omens were all in their favour. On their right, Wittgenstein had already carried the French lines at Pirna, and was now driving in St. Cyr's outposts towards Dresden. The daring spirits at Schwarzenberg's headquarters therefore begged him to push on the advantage already gained, while Napoleon was still far away. Everything, they asserted, proved that the French were surprised; Dresden could not long hold out against an attack by superior numbers: its position in a river valley dominated by the southern and western slopes, which the allies strongly held, was fatal to a prolonged defence: the thirteen redoubts hastily thrown up by the French could not long keep an army at bay, and of these only five were on the left side of the Elbe on which the allies were now encamped.

Against these manly counsels the voice of prudence pleaded for delay. It was not known how strong were St. Cyr's forces in Dresden and in the intrenched camp south of the city. Would it not therefore be better to await the development of events? Such was the advice of Toll and Moreau, the latter warning the Czar, with an earnestness which we may deem fraught with destiny for himself—"Sire, if we attack, we shall lose 20,000 men and break our nose."[357] The multitude of counsellors did not tend to safety. Distracted by the strife of tongues, Schwarzenberg finally took refuge in that last resort of weak minds, a tame compromise. He decided to wait until further corps reached the front, and at four o'clock of the following afternoon to push forward five columns for a general reconnaissance in force. As Jomini has pointed out, this plan rested on sheer confusion of thought. If the commander meant merely to find out the strength of the defenders, that could be ascertained at once by sending forward light troops, screened by skirmishers, at the important points. If he wished to attack in force, his movement was timed too late in the day safely to effect a lodgment in a large city held by a resolute foe. Moreover, the postponement of the attack for thirty hours gave time for the French Emperor to appear on the scene with his Guards.

As we have seen, Napoleon reached Stolpen, a town distant some sixteen miles from Dresden, very early on the morning of the 25th. His plans present a telling contrast to the slow and clumsy arrangements of the allies. He proposed to hurl his Guards at their rear and cut them off from Bohemia. Crossing the Elbe at Koenigstein, he would recover the camp of Pirna, hold the plateau further west and intercept Schwarzenberg's retreat.[358] For the success of this plan he needed a day's rest for his wearied Guards and the knowledge that Dresden could hold out for a short time. His veterans could perhaps dispense with rest; where their Emperor went they would follow; but Dresden was the unknown quantity. Shortly after midnight of the 25th and 26th, he heard from St. Cyr that Dresden would soon be attacked in such force that a successful defence was doubtful.

At once he changed his plan and at 1 a.m. sent off four despatches ordering his Guards and all available troops to succour St. Cyr. Vandamme's corps alone was now charged with the task of creeping round the enemy's rear, while the Guards long before dawn resumed their march through the rain and mud. The Emperor followed and passed them at a gallop, reaching the capital at 9 a.m. with Latour-Maubourg's cuirassiers; and, early in the afternoon, the bearskins of the Guards were seen on the heights east of Dresden, while the dark masses of the allies were gathering on the south and west for their reconnaissance in force.



Lowering clouds and pitiless rain robbed the scene of all brilliance, but wreathed it with a certain sombre majesty. On the one side was the fair city, the centre of German art and culture, hastily girdled with redoubts and intrenchments manned now by some 120,000 defenders. Fears and murmurings had vanished as soon as the Emperor appeared; and though in many homes men still longed for the triumph of the allies, yet loyalty to their King and awe of Napoleon held the great mass of the citizens true to his alliance. As for the French soldiery, their enthusiasm was unbounded. As regiment after regiment tramped in wearily from the east over the Elbe bridge and the men saw that well-known figure in the gray overcoat, fatigues and discomforts were forgotten; thunderous shouts of "Vive l'Empereur" rent the air and rolled along the stream, carrying inspiration to the defenders, doubt and dismay to the hostile lines. Yet these too were being strengthened, until they finally mustered close on 200,000 men, who crowned the slopes south of Dresden with a war-cloud that promised to sweep away its hasty defences—had not Napoleon been there.

The news of his arrival shook the nerves of the Russian Emperor, and it was reserved for the usually diffident King of Prussia to combat all notion of retreat. Schwarzenberg's reconnaissance in force therefore took place punctually at four o'clock, when the French, after a brief rest, were well prepared to meet them. The Prussians had already seized the "Great Garden" which lines the Pirna road; and from this point of vantage they now sought to drive St. Cyr from the works thrown up on its flank and rear. But their masses were torn by a deadly fire and finally fell back shattered. The Russians, on their right, fared no better. At the allied centre and left, the attack at one time promised success. Under cover of a heavy cannonade from their slopes, the Austrians carried two redoubts: but, with a desperate charge, the Old Guard drove in through the gorges of these works and bayoneted the victors of an hour. As night fell, the assailants drew off baffled, after sustaining serious losses.

Nevertheless, the miseries of the night, the heavy rains of the dawning day and the knowledge of the strength of the enemy's position in front and of Vandamme's movement in their rear, failed to daunt their spirits. If they were determined, Napoleon was radiant with hope. His force, though smaller, held the inner line and spread over some three miles; while the concave front of the allies extended over double that space, and their left wing was separated from the centre by the stream and defile of Plauen. From his inner position he could therefore readily throw an overpowering mass on any part of their attenuated array. He prepared to do so against their wings. At those points everything promised success to his methods of attack.

Never, perhaps, in all modern warfare has the musket been so useless as amidst the drenching rains which beat upon the fighters at the Katzbach and before Dresden. So defective was its firing arrangement then that after a heavy storm only a feeble sputter came from whole battalions of foot: and on those two eventful days the honours lay with the artillery and l'arme blanche. As for the infantrymen, they could effect little except in some wild snatches of bayonet work at close quarters. This explains the course of events both at the Katzbach on the 26th, and at Dresden on the following day. The allied centre was too strongly posted on the slopes south of Dresden to be assailed with much hope of success. But, against the Russian vanguard on the allied right, Napoleon launched Mortier's corps and Nansouty's cavalry with complete success, until Wittgenstein's masses on the heights stayed the French onset. Along the centre, some thousand cannon thundered against one another, but with no very noteworthy result, save that Moreau had his legs carried away by a shot from a field battery that suddenly opened upon the Czar's suite. It was the first shot that dealt him this fatal wound, but several other balls fell among the group until Alexander and his staff moved away.

Meanwhile the great blow was struck by Napoleon at the allied left. There the Austrian wing was sundered from the main force by the difficult defile of Plauen; and it was crushed by one of the Emperor's most brilliant combinations. Directing Victor with 20,000 men of all arms to engage the white-coats in front, he bade Murat, with 10,000 horsemen, steal round near the bank of the Elbe and charge their flank and rear. The division of Count Metzko bore the brunt of this terrible onset. Nobly it resisted. Though not one musket in fifty would fire, the footmen in one place beat off two charges of Latour-Maubourg's cuirassiers, until he headed his line with lancers, who mangled their ranks and opened a way for the sword.[359] Then all was slaughter; and as Murat's squadrons raged along their broken lines, 10,000 footmen, cut off from the main body, laid down their arms. News of this disaster on the left and the sound of Vandamme's cannon thundering among the hills west of Pirna decided the allied sovereigns and Schwarzenberg to prepare for a timely retreat into Bohemia. Yet so bold a front did they keep at the centre and right that the waning light showed the combatants facing each other there on even terms.

During the night, the rumbling of wagons warned Marmont's scouts that the enemy were retreating;[360] and the Emperor, coming up at break of day, ordered that Marshal and St. Cyr to press directly on their rear, while Murat pursued the fugitives along the Freiburg road further to the west. The outcome of these two days of fighting was most serious for the allies. They lost 35,000 men in killed, wounded and prisoners—a natural result of their neglect to seize Fortune's bounteous favours on the 25th; a result, too, of Napoleon's rapid movements and unerring sagacity in profiting by the tactical blunders of his foes.

It was the last of his great victories. And even here the golden fruit which he hoped to cull crumbled to bitter dust in his grasp. As has been pointed out, he had charged General Vandamme, one of the sternest fighters in the French army, to undertake with 38,000 men a task which he himself had previously hoped to achieve with more than double that number. This was to seize Pirna and the plateau to the west, which commands the three roads leading towards Teplitz in Bohemia. The best of these roads crosses the Erzgebirge by way of Nollendorf and the gorge leading down to Kulm, the other by the Zinnwald pass, while between them is a third and yet more difficult track. Vandamme was to take up a position west or south-west of Pirna so as to cut off the retreat of the foe.

Accordingly, he set out from Stolpen at dawn of the 26th, and on the next two days fought his way far round the rear of the allied Grand Army. A Russian force of 14,000 men, led by the young Prince Eugene of Wuertemberg and Count Ostermann, sought in vain to stop his progress: though roughly handled on the 28th by the French, the Muscovites disengaged themselves, fell back ever fighting to the Nollendorf pass, and took up a strong position behind the village of Kulm. There they received timely support from the forces of the Czar and Frederick William, who, after crossing by the Zinnwald pass, heard the firing on the east and divined the gravity of the crisis. Unless they kept Vandamme at bay, the Grand Army could with difficulty struggle through into Bohemia. But now, with the supports hastily sent him, Ostermann finally beat back Vandamme's utmost efforts. The defenders little knew what favours Fortune had in store.

A Prussian corps under Kleist was slowly plodding up the middle of the three defiles, when, at noonday of the 29th, an order came from the King to hurry over the ridge and turn east to the support of Ostermann. This was impossible: the defile was choked with wagons and artillery: but one of Kleist's staff-officers proposed the daring plan of plunging at once into cross tracks and cutting into Vandamme's rear. This novel and romantic design was carried out. While, then, the French general was showering his blows against the allies below Kulm, the Prussians swarmed down from the heights of Nollendorf on his rear. Even so, the French struggled stoutly for liberty. Their leader, scorning death or surrender, flung himself with his braves on the Russians in front, but was borne down and caught, fighting to the last. Several squadrons rushed up the steeps against the Prussians and in part hewed their way through. Four thousand footmen held their own on a natural stronghold until their bullets failed, and the survivors surrendered. Many more plunged into the woods and met various fates, some escaping through to their comrades, others falling before Kleist's rearguard. Such was the disaster of Kulm. Apart from the unbending heroism shown by the conquered, it may be called the Caudine Forks of modern war. A force of close on 40,000 men was nearly destroyed: it lost all its cannon and survived only in bands of exhausted stragglers.[361]

Who is to be blamed for this disaster? Obviously, it could not have occurred had Vandamme kept in touch with the nearest French divisions: otherwise, these could have closed in on Kleist's rear and captured him. Napoleon clearly intended to support Vandamme by the corps of St. Cyr, who, early on the 28th, was charged to co-operate with that general, while Mortier covered Pirna. But on that same morning the Emperor rode to Pirna, found that St. Cyr, Marmont, and Murat were sweeping in crowds of prisoners, and directed Berthier to order Vandamme to "penetrate into Bohemia and overwhelm the Prince of Wuertemberg."[362] Then, without waiting to organize the pursuit, he forthwith returned to Dresden, either because, as some say, the rains of the previous days had struck a chill to his system, or as Marmont, with more reason, asserts, because of his concern at the news of Macdonald's disaster on the Katzbach. Certain it is that he recalled his Old Guard to Dresden, busied himself with plans for a march on Berlin, and at 5.30 next morning directed Berthier to order St. Cyr to "pursue the foe to Maxen and in all directions that he has taken." This order led St. Cyr westwards, in pursuit of Barclay's Russians, who had diverged sharply in that direction in order to escape Vandamme.

The eastern road to Teplitz was thus left comparatively clear, while the middle road was thronged with pursuers and pursued.[363] No directions were given by Napoleon to warn Vandamme of the gap thus left in his rear: neither was Mortier at Pirna told to press on and keep in touch with Vandamme now that St. Cyr was some eight miles away to the west. Doubtless St. Cyr and Mortier ought to have concerted measures for keeping in touch with Vandamme, and they deserve censure for their lack of foresight; but it was not usual, even for the Marshals, to take the initiative when the Emperor was near at hand. To sum up: the causes of Vandamme's disaster were, firstly, his rapid rush into Bohemia in quest of the Marshal's baton which was to be his guerdon of victory: secondly, the divergence of St. Cyr westward in pursuance of Napoleon's order of the 29th to pursue the enemy towards Maxen: thirdly, the neglect of St. Cyr and Mortier to concert measures for the support of Vandamme along the Nollendorf road: but, above all, the return of Napoleon to Dresden, and his neglect to secure a timely co-operation of his forces along the eastern line of pursuit.[364]

The disaster at Kulm ruined Napoleon's campaign. While Vandamme was making his last stand, his master at Dresden was drawing up a long Note as to the respective advantages of a march on Berlin or on Prague. He decided on the former course, which would crush the national movement in Prussia, and bring him into touch with Davoust and the French garrisons at Kuestrin and Stettin. "Then, if Austria begins her follies again, I shall be at Dresden with a united army."

He looked on Austria as cowed by the blows dealt her south of Dresden, which would probably bring her to sue for peace, and he hoped that one more great battle would end the war. The mishaps to Macdonald and Vandamme dispelled these dreams. Still, with indomitable energy, he charged Ney to take command of Oudinot's army (a post of which this unfortunate leader begged to be relieved) and to strike at Berlin. He ordered Friant with a column of the Old Guard to march to Bautzen and drive in Macdonald's stragglers with the butt ends of muskets.[365] Then, hearing how pressing was the danger of this Marshal, he himself set out secretly with the cavalry of the Guard in hope of crushing Bluecher. But again that leader retreated (September 4th and 5th), and once more the allied Grand Army thrust its columns through the Erz and threatened Dresden. Hurrying back in the worst of humours to defend that city, Napoleon heard bad news from the north. On September 6th Ney had been badly beaten at Dennewitz. In truth, that brave fighter was no tactician: his dispositions were worse than those of Oudinot, and the obstinate bravery of the Prussians, led by Buelow and Tauenzien, wrested a victory from superior numbers. Night alone saved Ney's army from complete dissolution: as it was, he lost some 9,000 killed and wounded, 15,000 prisoners along with eighty cannon, and frankly summed up the situation thus to his master: "I have been totally beaten, and still do not know whether my army has reassembled."[366] Ultimately his army assembled and fell back behind the Elbe at Torgau.

Thus, in a fortnight (August 23rd-September 6th), Napoleon had gained a great success at Dresden, while, on the circumference of operations, his lieutenants had lost five battles—Grossbeeren, Hagelberg, Katzbach, Kulm, and Dennewitz. The allies could therefore contract that circumference, come into closer touch, and threaten his central intrenched camps at Pirna and Dresden. Yet still, in pursuance of a preconcerted plan, they drew back where he advanced in person. Thus, when he sought to drive back Schwarzenberg's columns into Bohemia, that leader warily retired to the now impregnable passes; and the Emperor fell back on Dresden, wearied and perplexed. As he said to Marmont: "The chess-board is very confused: it is only I who can know where I am." Yet once more he plunged into the Erzgebirge, engaged in a fruitless skirmish in the defile above Kulm, and again had to lead his troops back to Pirna and Dresden. A third move against Bluecher led to the same wearisome result.

The allies, having worn down the foe, planned a daring move. Bluecher persuaded the allied sovereigns to strike from Bohemia at Leipzig, thus turning the flank of the defensive works that the French had thrown up south of Dresden, and cutting their communications with France. He himself would march north-west, join the northern army, and thereafter meet them at Leipzig. This rendezvous he kept, as later he staunchly kept troth with Wellington at Waterloo; and we may detect here, as in 1815, the strategic genius of Gneisenau as the prime motive force.

Leaving a small force to screen his former positions at Bautzen, the veteran, with 65,000 men, stealthily set out on his flank march towards Wittenberg, threw two pontoon bridges over the Elbe at Wartenburg, about ten miles above that fortress, drove away Bertrand's battalions who hindered the crossing, and threw up earthworks to protect the bridges (October 3rd). This done, he began to feel about for Bernadotte, and came into touch with him south of Dessau. By this daring march he placed two armies, amounting to 160,000 men, on the north of Napoleon's lines; and his personal influence checked, even if it did not wholly stop, the diplomatic loiterings of the Swedish Crown Prince.[368] Bernadotte's hesitations were finally overcome by the news that Bluecher was marching south towards Leipzig. Finally he gave orders to follow him; but we may judge how easy would have been the task of overthrowing Bernadotte's discordant array if Napoleon could have carried out his project of September 30th.

As it was, the disaster of Kulm kept the Emperor tethered for some days within a few leagues of Dresden, while Buelow and Bluecher saved the campaign for the allies in the north, thereby exciting a patriotic ferment which drove Jerome Bonaparte from Cassel and kept Davoust to the defensive around Hamburg. There the skilful moves of Walmoden with a force of Russians, British, Swedes, and North Germans kept in check the ablest of the French Marshals, and prevented his junction with the Emperor, for which the latter never ceased to struggle.

Meanwhile the Grand Army of the allies, strengthened by the approach from Poland of 50,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve, was creeping through the western passes of the Erz into the plains south of Leipzig. This move was not unexpected by Napoleon. The importance of that city was obvious. Situated in the midst of the fertile Saxon plain, the centre of a great system ofroads, its position and its wealth alike marked it out as the place likely to be seized by a daring foe who should seek to cut Napoleon off from France.

As fortune turned against him, he became ever more nervous about Leipzig. Yet, for the present, the northward march of Bluecher rivetted his attention. It puzzled him. Even as late as October 2nd he had not fathomed Bluecher's real aim[369]. But four days later he heard that the Prussian leader had crossed the Elbe. At once he hurried north-west with the Guard to crush him, and to resume the favourite project of threatening Berlin and join hands with Davoust. Charging St-Cyr with the defence of Dresden, and Murat with the defence of Leipzig, he took his stand at Dueben, a small town on the Mulde, nearly midway between Leipzig and Wittenberg. Thence he reinforced Ney's army, and ordered that Marshal northwards to fall on the rear of Bernadotte and Bluecher; while he himself waited in a moated castle at Dueben to learn the issue of events.

The saxon Colonel, von Odeleben, has left us a vivid picture of the great man's restlessness during those four days. Surrounded by maps and despatches, and waited on by watchful geographer and apprehensive secretary, he spent much of the time scrawling large letters on a sheet of paper, uneasily listening for the tramp of a courier. In truth, few days of his life were more critical that those spent amidst the rains, swamps, and fogs of Dueben. Could he have caught Bernadotte and Bluecher far apart, he might have overwhelmed them singly, and then have carried the war into the heart of Prussia. But he knows that Dresden and Leipzig are far from safe. The news from that side begins to alarm him: and though, on the north, Ney, Bertrand, and Reynier cut up the rearguard of the allies, he learns with some disquiet that Bluecher is withdrawing westwards behind the River Saale, a move which betokens a wish to come into touch with Schwarzenberg near Leipzig.

Yet this disconcerting thought spurs him on to one of his most daring designs. "As a means of upsetting all their plans, I will march to the Elbe. There I have the advantage, since I have Hamburg, Magdeburg, Wittenberg, Torgau, and Dresden."[370] What faith he had in the defensive capacities of a great river line dotted with fortresses! His lieutenants did not share it. Caulaincourt tells us that his plan of dashing at Berlin roused general consternation at headquarters, and that the staff came in a body to beg him to give it up, and march back to protect Leipzig. Reluctantly he abandons it, and then only to change it for one equally venturesome. He will crush Bernadotte and Bluecher, or throw them beyond the Elbe, and then, himself crossing the Elbe, ascend its right bank, recross it at Torgau, and strike at Schwarzenberg's rear near Leipzig.

The plan promised well, provided that his men were walking machines, and that Schwarzenberg did nothing in the interval. But gradually the truth dawns on him that, while he sits weaving plans and dictating despatches—he sent off six in the small hours of October 12th—Bluecher and Schwarzenberg are drawing near to Leipzig. On that day he prepared to fall back on that city, a resolve strengthened on the morrow by the capture of one of the enemy's envoys, who reported that they had great hopes of detaching Bavaria from the French cause.

The news was correct. Five days earlier, the King of Bavaria had come to terms with Austria, offering to place 36,000 troops at her disposal, while she, in return, guaranteed his complete sovereignty and a full territorial indemnity for any districts that he might be called on to restore to the Hapsburgs.[371] Napoleon knew not as yet the full import of the news, and it is quite incorrect to allege, as some heedless admirers have done, that this was the only thing that stayed his conquering march northwards.[372] His retreat to Leipzig was arranged before he heard the first rumour as to Bavaria's defection. But the tidings saddened his men on their miry march southwards; and, strange to say, the Emperor published it to all his troops at Leipzig on the 15th, giving it as the cause why they were about to fall back on the Rhine.

There was much to depress the Emperor when, on the 14th, he drew near to Leipzig. With him came the King and Queen of Saxony, who during the last days had resignedly moved along in the tail of this comet, which had blasted their once smiling realm. Outside the city they parted, the royal pair seeking shelter under its roofs, while the Emperor pressed on to Murat's headquarters near Wachau. There, too the news was doubtful. The King of Naples had not, on that day, shown his old prowess. Though he disposed of larger masses of horsemen than those which the allies sent out to reconnoitre, he chose his ground of attack badly, and led his brigades in so loose an array that, after long swayings to and fro, the fight closed with advantage to the allies.[373] It was not without reason that Napoleon on that night received his Marshals rather coolly at his modest quarters in the village of Reudnitz. Leaning against the stove, he ran over several names of those who were now slack in their duty; and when Augereau was announced, he remarked that he was not the Augereau of Castiglione. "Ah! give me back the old soldiers of Italy, and I will show you that I am," retorted the testy veteran.

As a matter of fact, Napoleon was not the old Napoleon, not even the Napoleon of Dresden. There he had overwhelmed the foe by a rapid concentration. Now nothing decisive was done on the 15th, and time was thereby given the allies to mature their plans. Early on that day Bluecher heard that on the morrow Schwarzenberg would attack Leipzig from the south-east, but would send a corps westwards to threaten it on the side of Lindenau. The Prussian leader therefore hurried on from the banks of the Saale, and at night the glare of his watch-fires warned Marmont that Leipzig would be assailed also from the north-west. Yet, despite the warnings which Napoleon received from his Marshal, he refused to believe that the north side was seriously threatened; and, as late as the dawn of the 16th, he bade his troops there to be ready to march through Leipzig and throw themselves on the masses of Schwarzenberg.[374] Had Napoleon given those orders on the 15th, all might have gone well; for all his available forces, except Ney's and Reynier's corps, were near at hand, making a total of nearly 150,000 men, while Schwarzenberg had as yet not many more. But those orders on the 16th were not only belated: they contributed to the defeat on the north side.

The Emperor's thoughts were concentrated on the south. There his lines stretched in convex front along undulating ground near Wachau and Liebertwolkwitz, about a league to the south and south-east of the town. His right was protected by the marshy ground of the small river Pleisse; his centre stretched across the roads leading towards Dresden, while his left rested on a small stream, the Parthe, which curves round towards the north-west and forms a natural defence to the town on the north. Yet to cautious minds his position seemed unsafe; he had in his rear a town whose old walls were of no military value, a town on which several roads converged from the north, east, and south, but from which, in case of defeat, he could retire westward only by one road, that leading over the now flooded streams of the Pleisse and the Elster. But the great captain himself thought only of victory. He had charged Macdonald and Ney to march from Taucha to his support: Marmont was to do the same; and, with these concentrated forces acting against the far more extended array of Schwarzenberg, he counted on overthrowing him on the morrow, and then crushing the disunited forces of Bluecher and Bernadotte.[375]



The Emperor and Murat were riding along the ridge near Liebertwolkwitz, when, at nine o'clock, three shots fired in quick succession from the allies on the opposite heights, opened the series of battles fitly termed the Battle of the Nations. For six hours a furious cannonade shook the earth, and the conflict surged to and fro with little decisive result; but when Macdonald's corps struck in from the north-east, the allies began to give ground. Thereupon Napoleon launched two cavalry corps, those of Latour-Maubourg and Pajol, against the allied centre.

Then was seen one of the most superb sights of war. Rising quickly from behind the ridge, 12,000 horsemen rode in two vast masses against a weak point in the opposing lines. They were led by the King of Naples with all his wonted dash. Panting up the muddy slopes opposite, they sabred the gunners, enveloped the Russian squares, and the three allied sovereigns themselves had to beat a hasty retreat to avoid capture. But the horses were soon spent by the furious pace at which Murat careered along; and a timely charge by Pahlen's Cossacks and the Silesian cuirassiers, brought up from the allied reserves beyond the Pleisse, drove the French brigades back in great disorder, with the loss of their able corps leaders. The allies by a final effort regained all the lost ground, and the day here ended in a drawn fight, with the loss of about 20,000 men to either side.

Meanwhile, on the west side of Leipzig, Bertrand had beaten off the attack of Giulay's Austrian corps on the village of Lindenau. But, further north, Marmont sustained a serious reverse. In obedience to Napoleon's order, he was falling back towards Leipzig, when he was sharply attacked by Yorck's corps at Moeckern. Between that village and Eutritzsch further east the French Marshal offered a most obstinate resistance. Bluecher, hoping to capture his whole corps, begged Sir Charles Stewart to ride back to Bernadotte and request his succour. The British envoy found the Swedish Prince at Halle and conjured him to make every exertion not to be the only leader left out of the battle.[376] It was in vain: his army was too far away; and only after the village of Moeckern had been repeatedly taken and re-taken, was Marmont finally driven out by Yorck's Prussians.[377]

In truth, Marmont lacked the support of Ney's corps, which Berthier had led him to expect if he were attacked in force. But the orders were vague or contradictory. Ney had been charged to follow Macdonald and impart irresistible momentum to the onset which was to have crushed Schwarzenberg's right wing. He therefore only detached one weak division to cover Marmont's right flank, and with the other divisions marched away south, when an urgent message from Moeckern recalled him to that side of Leipzig, with the result that his 15,000 men spent the whole day in useless marches and counter-marches.[378] The mishap was most serious. Had he strengthened Macdonald's outflanking move, the right wing of the allied Grand Army might have been shattered. Had he reinforced Marmont effectively, the position on the north might have been held. As it was, the French fell back from Moeckern in confusion, losing 53 cannon; but they had inflicted on Yorck's corps a loss of 8,000 men out of 21,000. Relatively to the forces engaged, Albuera and Moeckern are the bloodiest battles of the Napoleonic wars.

On the whole, Napoleon had dealt the allies heavier losses than he had sustained. But they could replace them. On the morrow Bennigsen was near at hand on the east with 41,000 Russians of the Army of Reserve; Colloredo's Austrian corps had also come up; and, in the north, Bernadotte's Army of the North, 60,000 strong, was known to be marching from Halle to reinforce Bluecher. Napoleon, however, could only count on Reynier's corps of 15,000 men, mostly Saxons, who marched in from Dueben. St. Cyr's corps of 27,000 men was too far away, at Dresden; and Napoleon must have bitterly rued his rashness in leaving that Marshal isolated on the south-east, while Davoust was also cut off at Hamburg. He now had scarcely 150,000 effectives left after the slaughter of the 16th; and of these, the German divisions were murmuring at the endless marches and privations. Everything helped to depress men's minds. On that Sabbath morning all was sombre desolation around Leipzig, while within that city naught was heard but the groans of the wounded and the lamentations of the citizens. Still Napoleon's spirit was unquenched. Amidst the steady rain he paced restlessly with Murat along the dykes of the Pleisse. The King assured him that the enemy had suffered enormous losses. Then, the dreary walk ended, the Emperor shut himself in his tent. His resolve was taken. He would try fortune once more.[379]

Among the prisoners was the Austrian General Merveldt, over whom Napoleon had gained his first diplomatic triumph, that at Leoben. He it was, too, who had brought the first offers of an armistice after Austerlitz. These recollections touched the superstitious chords in the great Corsican's being; for in times of stress the strongest nature harks back to early instincts. This harbinger of good fortune the Emperor now summoned and talked long and earnestly with him.[380] First, he complimented him on his efforts of the previous day to turn the French left at Doelitz; next, he offered to free him on parole in order to return to the allied headquarters with proposals for an armistice. Then, after giving out that he had more than 200,000 men round Leipzig, he turned to the European situation. Why had Austria deserted him? At Prague she might have dictated terms to Europe. But the English did not want peace. To this Merveldt answered that they needed it sorely, but it must be not a truce, but a peace founded on the equilibrium of Europe.—"Well," replied Napoleon, "let them give me back my isles and I will give them back Hanover; I will also re-establish the Hanse Towns and the annexed departments [of North Germany].... But how treat with England, who wishes to bind me not to build more than thirty ships of the line in my ports?"[381]

As for the Confederation of the Rhine, those States might secede that chose to do so: but never would he cease to protect those that wanted his protection. As to giving Holland its independence, he saw a great difficulty: that land would then fall under the control of England. Italy ought to be under one sovereign; that would suit the European system. As he had abandoned Spain, that question was thereby decided. Why then should not peace be the result of an armistice?—The allied sovereigns thought differently, and at once waved aside the proposal. No answer was sent.

In fact, they had Napoleon in their power, as he surmised. Late on that Sunday, he withdrew his drenched and half-starved troops nearer to Leipzig; for Bluecher had gained ground on the north and threatened the French line of retreat. Why the Emperor did not retreat during the night must remain a mystery. All the peoples of Europe were now closing in on him. On the north were Prussians, Russians, Swedes, and a few British troops. To the south-east were the dense masses of the allied Grand Army drawn from all the lands between the Alps and the Urals; and among Bennigsen's array on the east of Leipzig were to be seen the Bashkirs of Siberia, whose bows and arrows gained them from the French soldiery the sobriquet of les Amours.

To this ring of 300,000 fighters Napoleon could oppose scarcely half as many. Yet the French fought on, if not for victory, yet for honour; and, under the lead of Prince Poniatowski, whose valour on the 16th had gained him the coveted rank of a Marshal of France, the Poles once more clutched desperately at the wraith of their national independence. Napoleon took his stand with his staff on a hill behind Probstheyde near a half-ruined windmill, fit emblem of his fortunes; while, further south, the three allied monarchs watched from a higher eminence the vast horse-shoe of smoke slowly draw in towards the city. In truth, this immense conflict baffles all description. On the north-east, the Crown Prince of Sweden gradually drove his columns across the Parthe, while Bluecher hammered at the suburbs.

Near the village of Paunsdorf, the allies found a weak place in the defence, where Reynier's Saxons showed signs of disaffection. Some few went over to the Russians in the forenoon, and about 3 p.m. others marched over with loud hurrahs. They did not exceed 3,000 men, with 19 cannon, but these pieces were at once effectively used against the French. Napoleon hurried towards the spot with part of his Guards, who restored the fight on that side. But it was only for a time. The defence was everywhere overmatched.

Even the inspiration of his presence and the desperate efforts of Murat, Poniatowski, Victor, Macdonald, and thousands of nameless heroes, barely held off the masses of the allied Grand Army. On the north and north-east, Marmont and Ney were equally overborne.[382] Worst of all, the supply of cannon balls was running low. With pardonable exaggeration the Emperor afterwards wrote to Clarke: "If I had then had 30,000 rounds, I should to-day be the master of the world."

At nightfall, the chief returned weary and depressed to the windmill, and instructed Berthier to order the retreat. Then, beside a watch-fire, he sank down on a bench into a deep slumber, while his generals looked on in mournful silence. All around them there surged in the darkness the last cries of battle, the groans of the wounded, and the dull rumble of a retreating host. After a quarter of an hour he awoke with a start and threw an astonished look on his staff; then, recollecting himself, he bade an officer repair to the King of Saxony and tell him the state of affairs.

Early next morning, he withdrew into Leipzig, and, after paying a brief visit to the King, rode away towards the western gate. It was none too soon. The conflux of his still mighty forces streaming in by three high roads, produced in all the streets of the town a crush which thickened every hour. The Prussians and Swedes were breaking into the northern suburbs, while the white-coats drove in the defenders on the south. Slowly and painfully the throng of fugitives struggled through the town towards the western gate. On that side the confusion became ever worse, as the shots of the allies began to whiz across the arches and causeway that led over the Pleisse and the Elster, while the hurrahs of the Russians drew near on the north. Ammunition wagons, gendarmes, women, grenadiers and artillery, cavalry and cattle, the wounded, the dying, Marshals and sutlers, all were wedged into an indistinguishable throng that fought for a foothold on that narrow road of safety; and high above the din came the clash of merry bells from the liberated suburbs, bells that three days before had rung forced peals of triumph at Napoleon's orders, but now bade farewell for ever to French domination. To increase the rout, a temporary bridge thrown over the Elster broke down under the crush; and the rush for the roadway became more furious. In despair of reaching it, hundreds threw themselves into the flooded stream, but few reached the further shore: among the drowned was that flower of Polish chivalry, Prince Poniatowski.

But this mishap was soon to be outdone. A corporal of engineers, in the absence of his chief, had received orders to blow up the bridge outside the western gate, as soon as the pursuers were at hand; but, alarmed by the volleys of Sacken's Russians, whom Bluecher had sent to work round by the river courses north-west of the town, the bewildered subaltern fired the mine while the rearguard and a great crowd of stragglers were still on the eastern side.[383] This was the climax of this day of disaster, which left in the hands of the allies as many as thirty generals, including Lauriston and Reynier, and 33,000 of the rank and file, along with 260 cannon and 870 ammunition wagons. From the village of Lindenau Napoleon gazed back at times over the awesome scene, but in general he busied himself with reducing to order the masses that had struggled across. The Old Guard survived, staunch as ever, and had saved its 120 cannon, but the Young Guard was reduced to a mere wreck. Amidst all the horrors of that day, the Emperor maintained a stolid composure, but observers saw that he was bathed in sweat. Towards evening, he turned and rode away westwards; and from the weary famished files, many a fierce glance and muttered curse shot forth as he passed by. Men remembered that it was exactly a year since the Grand Army broke up from Moscow.