The bridge was seized, Joseph's outposts were completely turned, and time was given for the muster of Picton's men. Stoutly they breasted the slopes, and unsteadied the weakened French centre, which was also assailed on its northern flank. At the same time Joseph's left wing began to waver under Hill's repeated onslaughts; and, distracted by the distant cannonade, which told of a stubborn fight between Graham and Reille, the King now began to draw in his lines towards Vittoria. For a time the French firmly held the village of Arinez, but Picton's men were not to be denied. They burst through the rearguard, and the battle now became a running fight, extending over some five miles of broken country. At the last slopes, close to Vittoria, the defenders made a last heroic stand, and their artillery dealt havoc among the assailants; but our fourth division, rushing forward into the smoke, carried a hill that commanded their left, and the day was won. Nothing now remained for the French but a speedy retreat, while the gallant Reille could still hold Graham's superior force at bay.

There, too, the fight at last swirled back, albeit with many a rallying eddy, into Vittoria. That town was no place of refuge, but a death-trap; for Graham had pushed on a detachment to Durana, on the high-road leading direct to France, and thus blocked the main line of retreat. Joseph's army was now in pitiable plight. Pent up in the choked streets of Vittoria, torn by cannon-shot from the English lines, the wreckage of its three armies for a time surged helplessly to and fro, and then broke away eastwards towards Pamplona. On that side only was safety to be found, for British hussars scoured the plain to the north-east, lending wings to the flight. The narrow causeway, leading through marshes, was soon blocked, and panic seized on all: artillerymen cut their traces and fled; carriages crowded with women, once called gay, but now frantic with terror, wagons laden[pg.312] with ammunition, stores, treasure-chests, and the booty amassed by generals and favourites during five years of warfare and extortion, all were left pell-mell. Jourdan's Marshal's baton was taken, and was sent by Wellington to the Prince Regent, who acknowledged it by conferring on the victor the title of Field-Marshal.

Richly was the title deserved. After four years of battling with superior numbers, the British leader at last revealed the full majesty of his powers now that the omens were favourable. In six weeks he marched more than five hundred miles, crossed six rivers, and, using the Navarrese revolt as the anvil, dealt the hammer-stroke of Vittoria. It cost Napoleon 151 pieces of cannon, nearly all the stores piled up for his Peninsular campaigns—and Spain itself.^[320]

As for Joseph, he left his carriage and fled on horseback towards France, reaching St. Jean de Luz "with only a napoleon left." He there also assured his queen that he had always preferred a private station to the grandeur and agitations of public life.^[321] This, indeed, was one of the many weak points of his brother's Spanish policy. It rested on the shoulders of an amiable man who was better suited to the ease of Naples than to the Herculean toils of Madrid. Napoleon now saw the magnitude of his error. On July 1st he bade Soult leave Dresden at once for Paris. There he was to call on Clarke, with him repair to Cambacérès; and, as Lieutenant-General, take steps to re-establish the Emperor's affairs in Spain. A Regency was to govern in place of Joseph, who was ordered to remain, according to the state of affairs, either at Burgos(!) or St. Sebastian or Bayonne.

And to Savary he wrote two days later:

Reflection, however, showed him that the fault was his own; that if, as had occurred to him when he left Paris, he had intrusted the supreme command in Spain to Soult, the disaster would never have happened.^[322] His belief in Soult's capacity was justified by the last events of the Peninsular War. But neither his splendid rally of the scattered French forces, nor the skilful movements of Clausel and Suchet, nor the stubborn defence of Pamplona and San Sebastian, could now save the French cause. The sole result of these last operations was to restore the lustre of the French arms and to keep 150,000 men in Spain when the scales of war were wavering in the plains of Saxony.

Napoleon's letters betray the agitation which he felt even at the first vague rumours of the disaster of Vittoria. On the first three days of July he penned at Dresden seven despatches on that topic in a style so vehement that the compilers of the "Correspondance de Napoléon" have thought it best to omit them. He further enjoined the utmost reserve, and ordered the official journals merely to state that, after a brisk engagement at Vittoria, the French army was concentrating in Arragon, and that the British had captured about a hundred guns and wagons left behind in the town for lack of horses.

There was every reason for hiding the truth. He saw how seriously it must weaken his chances of browbeating the Eastern Powers, and of punishing Austria for her[pg.314] armed mediation. Hitherto there seemed every chance of his succeeding. The French standards flew on all the fortresses of the Elbe and Oder. Hamburg was fast becoming a great French camp, and Denmark was ranged on the side of France.

Indeed, on reviewing the situation on June 4th, the German publicist, Gentz, came to the conclusion that the Emperor Francis would probably end his vacillations by some inglorious compromise. The Kaiser desired peace; but he also wished to shake off the irksome tutelage of his son-in-law, and regain Illyria. For the present he wavered. Before the news of Lützen reached him, he undoubtedly encouraged the allies: but that reverse brought about a half left turn towards Napoleon. "Boney's success at Lützen," wrote Sir G. Jackson in his Diary, "has made Francis reconsider his half-formed resolutions." Here was the chief difficulty for the allies. Their fortunes, and the future of Europe, rested largely on the decision of a man whose natural irresolution of character had been increased by adversity. Fortunately, the news from Spain finally helped to incline him towards war; but for some weeks his decision remained the unknown quantity in European politics. Fortunately, too, he was amenable to the gentle but determining pressure of the kind which Metternich could so skilfully exert. That statesman, as usual, schemed and balanced. He saw that Austria had much to gain by playing the waiting game. Her forces were improving both in numbers and efficiency, and under cover of her offer of armed mediation were holding strong positions in Bohemia. In fact, she was regaining her prestige, and might hope to impose her will on the combatants at the forthcoming European Congress at Prague. Metternich, therefore, continued to pose as the well-wisher of both parties and the champion of a reasonable and therefore durable compromise.

He had acted thus, not only in his choice of measures, but in his selection of men. He had sent to Napoleon's headquarters at Dresden Count Bubna, whose sincere[pg.315] and resolute striving for peace served to lull animosity and suspicions in that place. But to the allied headquarters, now at Reichenbach, he had despatched Count Stadion, who worked no less earnestly for war. While therefore the Courts of St. Petersburg, Berlin, and London hoped, from Stadion's language, that Austria meant to draw the sword, Napoleon inclined to the belief that she would never do more than rattle her scabbard, and would finally yield to his demands.

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[pg.316] 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[pg.317] 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 £1,133,334, 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][pg.318]

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 Lützow's volunteers at Kitzen near Leipzig. The excuse for this act was that Lützow 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 Lützow'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[pg.319] 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[pg.320] 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[pg.321] wrote to Eugène 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 débandade 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[pg.322] 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.[pg.323]

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 [pg.324] 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[pg.325] 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[pg.326] 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 £5,000 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[pg.327] 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[pg.328] 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? [pg.329]

CHAPTER XXXV

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[pg.330] 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[pg.331] 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[pg.332] camps of Dresden and Pirna, together with the fortresses of Königstein above, and of Torgau below, the Saxon capital, gave great strategic advantages. The corps of St. Cyr at Königstein 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 Blücher'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[pg.333] 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 Blücher, 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 Küstrin. 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 Blücher, 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 Blücher 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 Königstein, 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, [pg.334] 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 Fouché, 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 £250,000 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[pg.335] 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 Görlitz, turned off thence to Zittau, and hearing a false rumour that the Russo-Prussian force in Bohemia was only 40,000 strong, returned to Görlitz with the aim of crushing Blücher. 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 Löwenberg on the River Bober. Napoleon hurried up with his Guards, eager to catch Blücher;^[349] the French were now[pg.336] 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.