CONGRESS OF PRAGUE ON THE 29TH OF JULY.—
“After two months of difficulties and obstacles, the Congress opened under the mediation of Austria; if, indeed, the term Congress can be properly applied to an assembly in which no deliberations took place, and where one party had determined beforehand that none should be held.
“The mediator and the adversaries were equally our enemies; all concurred in their hostility to us, and they had already decided on war. Why then did they wait? Because Austria still possessed a shade of modesty, and she wished, in the debates, to gain a pretence for declaring war against us. Prussia and Russia, on their part, thought it necessary to preserve their credit in Europe by this false manifestation of their desire and their efforts to preserve peace. All were merely affixing the seal to their Machiavelian system.
“For them the real Congress was not the assembly at Prague; it had already taken place two months before. Time has since thrown into our hands the authentic records of the intrigues, machinations, and even treaties, in which they were engaged during that interval. It is now evident that the armistice was resorted to by pretended friends and avowed enemies, only for the sake of artfully cementing the union that was to effect the overthrow of Napoleon, and creating the triumvirate destined to oppress Europe while it pretended to deliver her.
“Austria had, from interested motives, long delayed the opening of the Congress of Prague. Resolved to repair her losses at any price, she did not hesitate to sacrifice her honour, the better to ensure her success. She masked her perfidy under the disguise of friendship. Declaring herself our ally, and eagerly complimenting us on every new triumph, she insisted, with an air of the warmest interest, on being our mediatrix when she had already entered into an agreement to make common cause with our enemies. Her propositions were accepted. But she wished to gain time for her preparations; and thus every day fresh obstacles were started, while the utmost tardiness was evinced in settling them.
“Austria at first offered her services as a mediatrix; but, changing her tone in proportion as her warlike preparations advanced, she soon signified her wish to become an arbitress, at the same time intimating that she expected great advantages in return for the services she might render. At length, after an armistice of two months, when Austria thought herself perfectly prepared, and when every thing was agreed upon among the coalesced powers, they opened the Congress, not to treat of peace and to establish amicable relations, but to develop their real sentiments, and to insult us unreservedly. The Russians, in particular, behaved with unusual ill grace. They were no longer the Russians who anxiously solicited an armistice after the routs of Lützen, Würtzen, and Bautzen. They now looked upon themselves as the dictators of Europe, which, indeed, they have since really become, by the spirit of their diplomacy, the blindness of their allies, their geographical situation, and finally by the force of things. But whom did Alexander select as his minister to this Congress? Precisely one who, by personal circumstances, was, according to the laws of France, unqualified for such a post;—one who was by birth a Frenchman. Certainly it would have been difficult to offer a more personal and direct insult. Napoleon felt it; but he concealed his resentment.
“Under such circumstances much could not be expected from the Congress: during the few days of its sitting, our enemies merely drew up a series of notes more or less acrimonious, while the conduct of Austria was marked by the most odious partiality.
“On the 10th of August, only two days after the first meeting of the negotiators, the Russians and Prussians haughtily withdrew; and on the 12th, Austria, that faithful ally, that obsequious and devoted friend, who had shewn herself so eager to become our mediatrix and arbitress, suddenly laid aside those titles to declare war against us, allowing no interval save that required for the signature of the manifesto, which she had been for two months secretly concerting with her new allies, and which will ever remain a record of her shame and degradation, since it acknowledges the sacrifice of an Archduchess to the necessity of crouching before a detested ally. History will decide on these acts. However, to the honour of the throne and of morality, there is reason to believe that most of these transactions, and in particular the real course of affairs, was unknown to the Emperor Francis, who is reputed to be the most gentle, upright, moral, and pious of princes. It has been affirmed that many of these acts were determined on without his knowledge, and that others were represented to him under a totally false colouring. The whole of these disgraceful proceedings must be attributed to British gold, to the craftiness of Russian diplomacy, and to the passions of the Austrian aristocracy, excited by the English faction which at that time ruled Europe.
“The Congress broke up with mutual feelings of irritation. The Emperor then expressed his sentiments in official and public documents, in the most forcible language, and in a tone of the highest superiority. But this he did with the view of creating a favourable impression on the public mind; for he remained so far master of himself as that, though hastening to take up arms, he nevertheless demanded a renewal of the negotiations, which were resumed at Prague. He deemed it advisable not to lose the advantages of constant communications: Austria would be easily detached if we obtained advantages, and she would be easily convinced if we sustained reverses. Such was the Congress of Prague.
“It will perhaps be asked whether Napoleon was duped by this Congress and the circumstances arising out of it. The answer is that he was not, or at least not entirely. If he had not a knowledge of every fact, he was never for a moment mistaken as to the intentions and sentiments that were really entertained.
“Napoleon, from the moment of his first victory at Lutzen, had authentically proposed a general congress. This he conceived to be the only means of treating for a general peace, insuring the independence[independence] of France, and the guarantee of the modern system. Every other mode of negotiation appeared to him merely a lure; and if he seemed to depart from this principle, in accepting the mediation of Austria, and agreeing to the conferences at Prague, it was because, as time advanced, affairs became more complicated. The defeat of Vittoria, the evacuation of Spain, and the spirit of the French people, which was declining, had considerably diminished his prosperity. He anticipated the result of the negotiations: but he wished to gain time, in his turn, and to await the course of events. He was not deceived as to the part which Austria would act; and, without knowing precisely how far she would carry her deception, he could well discern, from her mysterious conduct and delays, what was likely to be her determination. At Dresden, he had even had personal conversations with the first negotiator of the Austrian government, who had sufficiently indicated the line of conduct he intended to pursue. The Emperor having remarked that he had, after all, eight hundred thousand men to oppose the enemy, the negotiator eagerly added, ‘Your Majesty may say twelve hundred thousand; for you may, if you please, join our force to your own.’ But what was to be the price of this advantage? Nothing less than the restitution of Illyria, the cession of the Duchy of Warsaw, the frontier of the Inn, &c. ‘And after all,’ said the Emperor, ‘what should I have gained by this? Had we made all these concessions, should we not have been humbling ourselves for nothing, and furnishing Austria with the means of making farther demands, and afterwards opposing us with greater advantage?’ He never relinquished the idea that the true interests of Austria being closely connected with our danger, we should be more certain of regaining her by our misfortunes than of securing her by our concessions. Napoleon was therefore deaf to every demand; but he had so little doubt of the engagements which Austria had already contracted with our enemies that he is described as having said, half good-humouredly and half indignantly, to the Austrian negotiator: ‘Come now, confess: tell me how much they have paid you for this.’”
How severely did Napoleon suffer on this occasion! What trials of patience did he not undergo! And yet he was accused at the time of not wishing for peace! “How was I perplexed,” said he, “when conversing on this subject, to find myself the only one to judge of the extent of our danger and to adopt means to avert it. I was harassed on the one hand by the coalesced Powers, who threatened our very existence, and on the other by the spirit of my own subjects, who in their blindness, seemed to make common cause with them; by our enemies, who were labouring for my destruction, and by the importunities of my people and even my Ministers, who urged me to throw myself on the mercy of foreigners. And I was obliged to keep up a bold look in this embarrassing situation: to reply haughtily to some, and sharply to rebuff others, who created difficulties in my rear, encouraged the mistaken course of public opinion, instead of seeking to give it a proper direction, and suffered me to be tormented by demands for peace, when they ought to have proved that the only means of obtaining it was to urge me ostensibly to war.
“However, my determination was fixed. I awaited the result of events, firmly resolved to enter into no concessions or treaties which could present only a temporary reparation, and would inevitably have been attended by fatal consequences. Any middle course must have been dangerous; there was no safety except in victory, which would have preserved my power, or in some catastrophe, which would have brought back my allies.”
I beg to call the reader’s attention to this last idea, which I have already noticed on a former occasion. It will perhaps be thought I attach great importance to it; but this is because I feel the necessity of rendering it intelligible. Though I now enter into it completely, yet it was long before I understood it, and it appeared to me paradoxical and subtle.
“In what a situation was I placed!” continued the Emperor. “I saw that France, her destinies, her principles, depended on me alone!”—“Sire!” I ventured to observe, “this was the opinion generally entertained; and yet some parties reproached you for it, exclaiming, with bitterness, Why would he connect every thing with himself personally?”—“That was a vulgar accusation,” resumed the Emperor warmly. “My situation was not one of my own choosing, nor did it arise out of any fault of mine; it was produced entirely by the nature and force of circumstances—by the conflict of two opposite orders of things. Would the individuals who held this language, if indeed they were sincere, have preferred to go back to the period preceding Brumaire, when our internal dissolution was complete, foreign invasion certain, and the destruction of France inevitable? From the moment when we decided on the concentration of power, which could alone save us; when we determined on the unity of doctrines and resources which rendered us a mighty nation, the destinies of France depended solely on the character, the measures, and the principles of him whom she had invested with this accidental dictatorship: from that moment the public welfare, the State, was myself. These words, which I addressed to men who were capable of understanding them, were strongly censured by the narrow-minded and ill-disposed; but the enemy felt the full force of them, and, therefore, his first object was to effect my overthrow. The same outcry was raised against other words which I uttered in the sincerity of my heart: when I said that France had more need of me than I of her. This profound truth was declared to be merely excess of vanity. But, my dear Las Cases, you now see that I can relinquish every thing; and as to what I endure here, my sufferings cannot be long. My life is limited; but the existence of France...!” Then, resuming his former idea, he said: “The circumstances in which we were placed were extraordinary and unprecedented; it would be vain to seek for any parallel to them. I was myself the keystone of an edifice totally new, and raised on a slight foundation! Its stability depended on each of my battles! Had I been conquered at Marengo, France would have encountered all the disasters of 1814 and 1815, without those prodigies of glory which succeeded, and which will be immortal. It was the same at Austerlitz and Jena, and again at Eylau and elsewhere. The vulgar failed not to blame my ambition as the cause of all these wars. But they were not of my choosing; they were produced by the nature and force of events; they arose out of that conflict between the past and the future—that constant and permanent coalition of our enemies, which obliged us to subdue under pain of being subdued.”
But to return to the negotiations of 1813. On a reference to the documents and manifestoes published at the time by the two parties, whether because we can now peruse them with more impartiality, or because our eyes have been opened by the conduct of those who triumphed, it is impossible to avoid feeling astonished at the two-fold error which led the Germans to rise so furiously against him from whose yoke they pretended to free themselves, and in favour of those whom they expected to become their regenerators!
Renewal of Hostilities—Battle of Dresden—26th and 27th of August.—“The hostile powers again presented themselves on the field of battle. The French, with a force of 300,000, of which 40,000 were cavalry, occupied the heart of Saxony, on the left bank of the Elbe; and the Allies, with 500,000 men, of whom 100,000 were cavalry, threatened them in three different directions, from Berlin, Silesia, and Bohemia, on Dresden. This prodigious disproportion of numbers had no effect on Napoleon: he concentrated his forces, and boldly assumed the offensive. Having fortified the line of the Elbe, which had now become his point d’appui, and, protecting his extreme right by the mountains of Bohemia, he directed one of his masses on Berlin against Bernadotte, who commanded an army of Prussians and Swedes, while another marched upon Silesia, against Blucher, who commanded a corps composed of Prussians and Russians, and a third was stationed at Dresden, as the key of the position, to observe the great Austrian and Russian army in Bohemia. Finally, a fourth mass was placed as a reserve, at Zittau, with the threefold object:—1st, to penetrate into Bohemia, in case we should gain advantages over Blucher; 2d, to keep the great body of the allied force confined in Bohemia, through the fear of being attacked on their rear, should they attempt to debouch by the banks of the Elbe; 3d, to assist, if necessary, in assailing Blucher, or in the defence of Dresden; in case that city should be attacked.
“The Emperor, who had already made a rapid movement against Blucher, kept him in action before him, when he was suddenly called away for the defence of Dresden, where 65,000 French troops found themselves opposed to 180,000 of the allied forces. Prince Schwartzenberg, the General-in-chief, had on the 26th made a faint attack upon Dresden, instead of making a precipitate and decided assault; which, it was affirmed, was the intention of the deserter Jomini, who so well understood the real state of things. Napoleon came up with the rapidity of lightning and he combined a force of 100,000 French troops to oppose the 180,000 Allies. The affair was not for a moment doubtful; and to his sagacity and penetration the whole success must be attributed. The enemy was overwhelmed: he lost 40,000 men, and was for some time threatened with total destruction. The Emperor Alexander was present at the battle, and Moreau was killed by one of the first balls fired by our imperial guard, only a short time after he had spoken with the Russian Emperor.[[16]]
The happy chance, so anxiously looked for by Napoleon, which was expected to re-establish our affairs, to procure peace, and to save France, had at length arrived. Accordingly, on the ensuing day, Austria despatched an agent to the Emperor with amicable propositions. But such is the uncertainty of human destiny! From that moment, by an unexampled fatality, Napoleon had to encounter a chain of disasters. At every point, except that at which he was himself present, we sustained reverses. Our army in Silesia lost 25,000 men in opposing Blucher; the force which attacked Berlin was defeated by the Prince of Sweden with great loss; and finally, nearly the whole of Vandamme’s corps, which, after the victory of Dresden, was sent into Bohemia with the view of assailing the enemy’s rear and accomplishing his destruction, being abandoned to itself and to the temerity of its chief, was cut in pieces by that part of the Allied army which was precipitately falling back. This fatal disaster and the safety of the Austrians, were owing to a sudden indisposition of Napoleon’s, who, at the moment, was supposed to have been poisoned. His presence no longer excited the ardour of the different corps in maintaining the pursuit; indecision and dejection ensued; Vandamme’s force was destroyed, and all the fruit of the splendid victory of Dresden was lost!
After these repeated checks, the spell was broken; the spirit of the French troops became depressed, while that of the Allies was the more highly excited. The hostile forces were now to be estimated only by their numerical value; and a catastrophe seemed to be at hand. Napoleon, in despair, made vain efforts; he hastened to every threatened point, and was immediately called away by some new disaster. Wherever he appeared, the Allies retreated before him; and they advanced again as soon as his back was turned. Meanwhile, all the enemy’s masses were constantly gaining ground; they had effected communications with each other, and they now formed a semicircle, which was gradually closing round the French, who were driven back upon the Elbe, and threatened completely to surround them. On the other hand, our rear, which was uncovered, was assailed by detached parties. The kingdom of Westphalia was in open insurrection; our convoys were intercepted, and we could no longer maintain free communications with France.
It was in this state of things that the negotiators of Prague submitted to the Emperor the result of their new conferences. In addition to numerous restitutions required from Napoleon and his allies, two propositions were made: 1st, the surrender of all the influence and acquisitions of France in Italy; 2nd, the resignation of the French influence and acquisitions in Germany. Napoleon was to take his choice of one of these two divisions of power; but the other was to be consigned to the Allies, to be entirely at their disposal, without any interference on his part. Neither friends nor enemies entertained a doubt that Napoleon would eagerly accept these proposals. “For,” said those about him, “if you choose Italy, you remain at the gates of Vienna, and the Allies will soon dispute among themselves respecting the division of Germany. If, on the contrary, you prefer the surrender of Italy, you will thereby secure the friendship of Austria, to whose share it will fall, and you will remain in the heart of Germany. In either case you will soon re-appear in the character of a mediator, or a ruler.” Napoleon, however, was not of this opinion: he rejected the propositions, and persisted in following up his own ideas.
Certainly, said he to himself, such proposals in themselves, and in the natural course of things, are most acceptable; but where is the guarantee of their sincerity? He saw plainly that the Allies were only endeavouring to lure him into the snare. They determined thenceforth to abide neither by faith nor law. They did not conceive themselves bound by any law of nations, or any rule of integrity in their conduct towards us. In opposition to the suggestions of his counsellors, Napoleon said; “If I relinquish Germany, Austria will but contend the more perseveringly until she obtains Italy. If, on the other hand, I surrender Italy to her, she will, in order to secure the possession of it, endeavour to expel me from Germany. Thus, one concession granted will only serve as an inducement for seeking or enforcing new ones. The first stone of the edifice being removed, the downfall of the whole will inevitably ensue. I shall be urged on from one concession to another, until I am driven back to the Tuileries, whence the French people, enraged at my weakness, and blaming me for their disasters, will doubtless banish me, and perhaps justly, though they may themselves immediately become the prey of foreigners.”
May not this be regarded as a literal prediction of the events which succeeded the insidious declaration of Frankfort, the propositions of Chatillon, &c.?
“It would be a thousand times better to perish in battle amidst the fury of the enemy’s triumph,” continued the Emperor; “for even defeats leave behind them the respect due to adversity, when they are attended by magnanimous perseverance. I therefore prefer to give battle; for, if I should be conquered, we still have with us the true political interests of the majority of our enemies. But, if I should be victorious, I may save all. I have still chances in my favour—I am far from despairing.”
Intended movement on Berlin.—“In this state of things, the King of Bavaria, the chief of the Confederation of the Rhine, wrote to the Emperor, assuring him, confidentially, that he would continue his alliance for six weeks longer. “This was long enough,” said Napoleon, “to render it very probable that he would no longer find it necessary to abandon us.” He determined immediately to attempt a great movement, which he had long contemplated, and which plainly indicates the resources of his enterprising mind. Pressed upon the Elbe, the right bank of which was already lined by the great mass of the Allied force, and nearly turned on his rear, he conceived the bold idea of changing positions with the enemy, place for place; to penetrate the enemy’s line, to form in his rear, and compel him to pass in his turn, with his whole force, to the left bank of the river. If, in this situation, he abandoned his communications with France, he would have in his rear the enemy’s territory, a tract of country not yet ravaged by war, and which was capable of maintaining his troops, Berlin, Brandenburg, and Mecklenburg, he would recover his fortresses, with their immense garrisons, the separation and the loss of which would be a great fault after a reverse of fortune, and would be regarded as resources of genius in case of triumph. Napoleon now looked forward to new combinations, and a new prospect of future success: he beheld before him only the errors, the astonishment, and the stupor of his enemies, and the brilliancy of his own enterprise and his hopes.
Battles of Leipsic, (16th, 18th, and 19th Oct.)—“At first fortune seemed to smile on the Emperor. But soon a letter from the King of Würtemberg informed him that the Bavarian army, seduced by the intrigues and the prevailing spirit of the moment, had joined the Austrians, against whom it was intended to be opposed; that it was marching on the Rhine to cut off the communication with France; and that the King of Würtemburg was himself under the necessity of yielding to circumstances. This unexpected event obliged Napoleon to suspend his preparations, and to fall back, in order to secure his retreat. This complication of false movements proved servicable to the Allies, who pressed and surrounded us: a great battle seemed inevitable. Napoleon assembled his forces in the plains of Leipsic. His army consisted of 157,000 men, and six hundred pieces of artillery; but the Allies possessed 1000 pieces of artillery, and 350,000 men. During the first day, the action was furiously maintained: The French remained triumphant and the victory would have been decisive, if one of the corps stationed at Dresden had taken part in the battle, as the Emperor hoped it would. General Merfeld was taken prisoner, but liberated on parole, with an intimation that the Emperor was at length willing to renounce Germany. But the Allies, who were encouraged by the arrival of an immense reinforcement, resumed the engagement on the following day; and they were now so numerous that, when their troops were exhausted, they were regularly relieved by fresh corps, as on the parade. The most inconceivable fatality was now combined with inequality of numbers; the most infamous treachery unexpectedly broke out in our ranks; the Saxons, our allies, deserted us, went over to the enemy, and turned their artillery against us. Still, however, the presence of mind, energy, and skill of the French general, together with the courage of our troops, made amends for all, and we again remained masters of the field.
“These two terrible engagements, which history will record as battles of giants, had cost the enemy 150,000 of his best troops, 50,000 of whom lay dead on the field of battle. Our loss amounted to 50,000 only. Thus the difference between our forces was considerably diminished: and a third engagement presented itself, with changes much more favourable. But our ammunition was exhausted; our parks contained no more than 16,000 charges; we had fired 220,000 during the two preceding days. We were compelled to make arrangements for our retreat, which commenced during the night, on Leipsic. At day-break the Allies assailed us; they entered Leipsic along with us, and an engagement commenced in the streets of the city. Our rear-guard was defending itself valiantly and without sustaining great loss, when a fatal occurrence ruined all: the only bridge across the Elster, by which our retreat could be effected, was, by some accident or misunderstanding, blown up. Thus all our forces on the Leipsic bank of the river were lost, and all on the opposite bank marched in haste and disorder upon Mentz. At Hanau we were compelled to force a passage through 50,000 Bavarian troops. Only the wrecks of our army returned to France; and, to render the misfortune complete, they brought contagion along with them.”
Such was the fatal campaign of Saxony, our last national effort, the tomb of our gigantic power. Opposed to the united efforts of all the forces of Europe, and in spite of all the chances that were accumulated against us, the genius of a single man had, in the course of this campaign, been four times on the point of restoring our ascendancy, and cementing it by peace: after the victories of Lützen and Bautzen, after the battle of Dresden, at the time of the last movement on Berlin, and finally on the plains of Leipsic.
Napoleon failed only by a complication of fatalities and perfidies, of which history furnishes no example. I here note down only those which occur to me on a retrospective view of the events of this period.