Though Charles XIV. made no attempt to interfere in European politics, the princes of Europe could never shake off their dislike of him, standing as he did as the one survival of Napoleon's system. When the time came for his son Oscar to seek a bride, the Swedish proposals were met with scorn in Denmark and Prussia, and even in Mecklenburg-Anhalt and Hesse-Cassel. As the Austrian envoy at the Swedish court whispered to his English colleague, "All Europe would see the fall of these people here without regret." Consequently the Swedish King was driven to seek a bride for his son from Napoleon's family, and eventually the young Prince married the daughter of Eugène Beauharnais, the old ex-Viceroy of Italy, Napoleon's stepson.
Charles XIV., a man of regrets, spent the remainder of his life buried in the memories of the past. He seldom got up till late in the day, dictating his letters and receiving his ministers in bed. When he was dressed, he spent some hours going over his private affairs and revising his investments, for he feared to the end that he might be deprived of his crown. In the evening he entertained the foreign representatives and held his courts, after which he passed the small hours of the night with his particular cronies fighting and re-fighting his battles, and proving how he alone could have saved Europe from the misery of the Napoleonic wars. He died on March 3rd, 1844, at the age of eighty, having given his subjects the precious boon of twenty-five years of peace.
In spite of his brilliant career, Bernadotte must ever remain one of the most pathetic figures in history. He stands convicted as a mere opportunist, a man who never once possessed his soul in peace and who was incapable of understanding his own destiny. So much was this the case that in his latter days the old Jacobin, now a crowned King, really believed he was speaking the truth when he said that along with Lafayette he was the only public man, save the Count of Artois, who had never changed since 1789. He saw no inconsistency between the declaration of his youth, "that royalty was a monster which must be mutilated in its own interest," and his speech as an old man to the French ambassador, "If I were King of France with an army of two or three hundred thousand men I would put my tongue out at your Chamber of Deputies." He was Gascon to the backbone, and his tongue too often betrayed his most secret and his most transient thoughts. For the moment he would believe and declare that "Napoleon was not beaten by mere men ... he was greater than all of us ... the greatest captain who has appeared since Julius Cæsar.... If, like Henry IV., he had had a Sully he would have governed empires." Then, thinking of himself as Sully, he would gravely add, "Bonaparte was the greatest soldier of our age, but I surpassed him in powers of organisation, of observation and calculation." Yet with it all he had many of the qualities which go to make a man great. His personal magnetism was irresistible, he had consummate tact, a keen eye for intrigue, a clear vision to pierce the mazes of political tangles, and considerable strength of purpose backed by an intensely fiery nature. Frank and generous, he inclined naturally to a liberal policy, but his innate selfishness too often conquered his generous principles. It was this conflict between his liberal ideas and his personal interest which caused that fatal hesitation which again and again threatened to spoil his career and which made him so immensely inferior to Napoleon. To gain his crown he willingly threw over his religion and became a Lutheran; to keep his crown he was ready to sacrifice his honour. As a Swedish monarch he thought more of the interests of his dynasty than of the interests of his subjects, but he was far too wily to show this in action. Posing as a patriot King and boasting of his love for his adopted country, he ever remained at heart a Frenchman.
When in 1840 the remains of the great Emperor were transferred to Paris, he mournfully exclaimed to his representative: "Tell them that I who was once a Marshal of France am now only a King of Sweden."
V
JEAN DE DIEU NICOLAS SOULT, MARSHAL,
DUKE OF DALMATIA
Of all the Marshals of Napoleon, perhaps none is better known to Englishmen than Jean de Dieu Soult. His long service in the Peninsula, ending with the stern fighting in the Pyrenees and the valley of the Garonne, and the prominent part he took in French politics during the years of the Orleanist monarchy, made his name a household word in England. The son of a small notary of St. Amand, a little-known town in the department of the Tarn, Soult was possessed of all the fervour of the South and the cunning and tenacity of a Gascon. Born on March 29, 1769, he early distinguished himself by his precocity and his quickness of perception. Although handicapped by a club-foot he determined to be a soldier, and at the age of sixteen he enlisted in the Royal Infantry regiment. His intelligence marked him out for the rank of sergeant, and in 1791 he was sent as sub-lieutenant and drill instructor to a battalion of volunteers of the Haut Rhin. In spite of his lameness and his slight frame, the young sub-lieutenant was possessed of a physique capable of withstanding the greatest fatigue and hardship, and spurred on by ambition, he never shirked a task which might add to his reputation. Consequently, he was soon chosen captain by his comrades, and once war broke out he speedily rose. At the battle of Kaiserslautern, the storm of the lines of Weissenburg and the siege of Fort Louis, he forced himself to the front by his gallantry and his rapid coup d'œil. But it was the battle of Fleurus which once and for all established his reputation. Soult was by then colonel and chief of the staff to General Lefèbvre. The gallant Marceau's battalions were hurled back in rout by the enemy, and their chief in agony rushed up to Lefèbvre crying out for four battalions of the reserve that he might regain the ground he had lost. "Give them to me," he exclaimed, "or I will blow out my brains." Soult quietly observed that he would thereby only the more endanger his troops. Marceau, indignant at being rebuked by a young staff officer, roughly asked, "And who are you?" "Whoever I am," replied Soult, "I am calm, which you are not: do not kill yourself, but lead your men to the charge and you shall have the four battalions as soon as we can spare them." Scarcely had he uttered these words than the Austrians fell with fury on Lefèbvre's division. For hours the issue hung in the balance, and at last even the stubborn Lefèbvre began to think of retreat. But Soult, calmly casting a rapid glance over the field, called out, "If I am not mistaken from what I judge of the enemy's second line, the Austrians are preparing to retreat." A few moments later came the order to advance from Jourdan, the commander-in-chief, and thanks to Soult's soundness of judgment, the divisions of Marceau and Lefèbvre were charging the enemy instead of fighting a rear-guard action to cover a rout. After the battle, the generous Marceau sought out Soult. "Colonel," said he, "forgive the past: you have this day given me a lesson I shall never forget. It is you in fact who have gained the battle." Soult had not long to wait for his reward, for in 1794 he was promoted general of brigade.
During the campaign of 1795 Soult was entrusted with a light column of three battalions of infantry and six squadrons of cavalry, and was constantly employed as an advance or rear guard. On one occasion, while covering the retreat at Herborn, his small force was surrounded by four thousand Austrian cavalry. Summoned to surrender, he indignantly refused, and forming his infantry in two columns with the cavalry in the interval between them, during five hours he beat off repeated charges of the enemies' horse and fought his way back to the main body without losing a single gun or a single colour. Ten days later he added to this triumph by inflicting the loss of two thousand men on the enemy in the mountain combat at Ratte Eig, when both sides struggled to gain the heights knee-deep in snow. During the campaigns of 1796 and 1797, Soult increased his reputation amid the marches and counter-marches and battles in the valleys of the Rhine and the Danube. But it was in Switzerland that he laid most firmly the foundation of his future success, for there he gained the friendship and goodwill of Masséna, and it was the conqueror of Zurich who first called Bonaparte's attention to the sterling qualities of the future Duke of Dalmatia, telling the First Consul that "for judgment and courage Soult had scarcely a superior." In 1800 Masséna took his trusty subordinate with him to Italy as lieutenant-general of the centre of the army. During the fierce struggle which ended in the Austrians driving the French into Genoa, the lieutenant-general was seen at his best, exposing his person in a way he seldom did later, and showing that strategic insight and power of organisation for which he was so celebrated. On one occasion, when cornered by Bellegarde, he was summoned to surrender. The Austrian parlementaire pointed out that it was hopeless to continue the struggle as he had neither provisions nor ammunition. To this Soult replied: "With bayonets and men who know how to use them, one lacks nothing," and in spite of every effort of the enemy, with the "white arm" alone he cut his way into Genoa. During the siege he was Masséna's right hand, ever ready with shrewd advice, the soul of every sortie, till unluckily he was wounded at the combat of Monte Cretto, and captured by the Austrians, whose prisoner he remained till after Marengo.
