CHAPTER VII.
VON MOLTKE KEEPS THE WHIP HAND.
Weary of his task, weakened in body by a painful malady, depressed in mind by a series of disasters, and worried by advice from Paris, the Emperor Napoleon, on the evening of the 12th of August, transferred to Marshal Bazaine the burden which he could no longer bear. Whatever may have been his other aptitudes, he was not born to command Armies in the field nor had he that power of selection which may enable an inferior to choose and clothe with his authority a superior man. Had a Radetzky, instead of an Emperor, commanded the Austrian Army in 1859 it is probable that the stability of the “dynasty” would have been tried by defeat and the unity of Italy deferred until a later day. Whether the Emperor Napoleon recognized his incompetence, or whether, as he often did, he yielded to pressure, matters little except to the students of character. He nominally gave up the command, yet retained a certain indefinite control, and he placed at the head of his Army a Marshal who, although the senior in rank to the recently promoted Marshal Lebœuf, the late Chief of the Staff, was still the junior of Marshal Canrobert; both, fortunately, were loyal men, and the latter ready to serve under his junior. Yet it is doubtful whether Bazaine ever exercised that moral ascendency which is essential at all times, and never more so than at a crisis when the fate of Armies depends not only on wise direction, but prompt and willing obedience. The Marshal, appointed on the 12th, did not take up his command until the next day, and then he was required to remedy in less than twenty-four hours the deep-seated mischief produced by a fortnight of terrible blundering. His special task was to transport the Army over the Moselle. Four days earlier that might have been done without a shot being fired, because even if the German horse had come up to look on they must have been idle spectators as their infantry comrades were far in the rear. The fatal error was committed when the Emperor did not overrule all opposition, and, adhering with unswerving firmness to his first thought, neither halt, ponder, nor rest until the Moselle flowed between him and his foes. The military position on the morning of the 7th dictated that step; his adversaries believed or surmised that he would take it, because it was the right step to take. Nor can we doubt that, as Commander-in-Chief, Louis Napoleon, who had a little of “le flair militaire,” saw at once the proper course, but that, as Emperor, he dared not, on reflection, run the risk. It was a false calculation, even from a political standpoint, because, so long as he was in the field with, or at the head of an Army, his republican and monarchical enemies would not have moved, and time would have been gained. By retiring promptly over the Moselle, and leaving Metz to defend itself, he might have been defeated in battle or manœuvred back upon Paris; but there would have been no Sedan and no Metz, and even the Parisians would have hesitated to plunge headlong into civil war when a French Army was still afoot, and a formidable host of invaders, pressing on its weaker array, was “trampling the sacred soil.” The fate of the campaign about Metz was, then, really decided when the Emperor did not avail himself of the days of grace, beat down all opposition, and compel his Marshals and Generals to march their troops over the Moselle. Neither Bazaine nor any one officer present with the Army is entitled to be called a great captain; but whatever he was, the blame of failure does not rest on him alone; it must be shared, in a far greater degree, by those who preceded him in command. It is necessary to insist on this fact, because one of the most valuable lessons taught by the campaign would be lost were the capital error committed by the Imperial Staff, when the order for retreat was countermanded and five days were wasted in abortive operations, not described with the emphasis it deserves. Campaigns have been lost as much by postponed retreats as by rash advances; and it was the ill-fortune of the French Generals in August, 1870, to present egregious examples of both forms of fatal error.