Napoleon: A Sketch of His Life, Character, Struggles, and Achievements

by Thomas E. Watson

In addition to these advantages the Czar had another, and of vast importance—the war in Spain. Three hundred thousand French troops were held in the peninsula, and scores of the best officers the Empire could boast.

To Alexander it must have seemed that it would indeed be a miracle if Napoleon could sustain two such immense contests so far apart, one at the extreme south the other in the extreme north. Even Napoleon had appeared to grow weary of his huge tasks, and had been heard to say, “The bow is overbent.”

But in getting ready for the contest he certainly accomplished wonders. So imposing were his armaments that Austria and Prussia both believed he would succeed, and they cast in their lot with the French. Each agreed to furnish contingents: the Emperor Francis assured his son-in-law that he might “fully rely upon Austria for the triumph of the common cause,” and the King of Prussia pledged his “unswerving fidelity.” Upon these broken reeds the astute Emperor did not, in all probability, intend to lean very heavily. Events were soon to prove that they would bear no weight at all.

Before putting himself at the head of his army, Napoleon held a grand assemblage of his allies at Dresden (May, 1812). It was the most imposing, as it was the last, of the Napoleonic pageants, wherein vassal princes gathered about him and did him homage. Accompanied by the Empress Maria Louisa, he left St. Cloud May 9, reached Mayence on the 14th, and from thence made a triumphal progress to the Saxon capital. Princes of the Confederation of the Rhine hastened to receive their suzerain; “many even came to wait for them on the road, amongst others the King of Würtemberg and the Grand Duke of Baden.” The King and Queen of Saxony came forth from Dresden to meet them; and a torchlight procession escorted them into the city. On the morrow came the Emperor and Empress of Austria, and the archdukes; following these came the King and Crown Prince of Prussia, the Queen of Westphalia, and scores of princes, noblemen, and dignitaries. “The splendor of the Court,” says an eye-witness, “gave Napoleon the air of some legendary Grand Mogul. As at Tilsit, he showered magnificent presents on all sides. At his levees, reigning princes danced attendance for hours in the hope of being honored with an audience. Every country sent its contingent. There were no eyes but for Napoleon. The populace gathered in crowds outside the palaces, following his every movement, and dogging his progress through the streets, in hourly expectation of some great event.”

The Crown Prince of Prussia begged for the privilege of serving on the Emperor’s staff, and was denied. Napoleon doubtless thought the campaign before him was risky enough without the presence of a possible spy in his military family.

Napoleon was no longer the man he had been in his earlier campaigns. He had grown fat, subject to fits of lassitude, and to a painful disease, dysuria. His plans were as fine as ever, but the execution was nothing like what it had been. He no longer gave such personal attention to detail; irresolution sometimes paralyzed his combinations.

Nor were his generals up to their former standard. He had made them too rich. They had pampered themselves and grown lazy. They had no stomach for the Russian war, joined their commands reluctantly, and worked without zeal. Neither was the army to be compared to those of Austerlitz, Jena, and Wagram. In his host of six hundred thousand, there were but two hundred thousand Frenchmen, the remainder being composed of Germans from the Confederation of the Rhine, Prussians, Austrians, Italians, Poles, Swiss, Dutch, and even Spaniards and Portuguese. In such a motley array there could be no cohesion, no strength of common purpose which could stand a serious strain. Even the French soldiers, splendid as they undoubtedly were, were not animated by the same spirit as formerly. The causes of the war were beyond their grasp, even the generals felt that the Continental system was not worth fighting about. England, on the verge of commercial ruin, might know better: Napoleon certainly knew better; but to the average Frenchman the grievances on both sides were too vague and abstract to justify so huge a conflict.

No declaration of war had been published, neither Czar nor Emperor had yet fully committed himself, and hopes were entertained that even yet terms might be arranged. But when the travel-stained carriage of Count Narbonne rolled into Dresden, and he announced that Alexander had refused to make any change in his attitude, it became with Napoleon a question of back down or fight. The Czar was determined not to begin the war; he was equally determined not to keep the contract made at Tilsit. Just as England had held Malta after pledging herself to give it up, Russia was resolved to repudiate and oppose the Continental system which she had promised to support.

At St. Helena Napoleon said that he and Alexander were like two bullies, each trying to frighten the other, and neither wishing to fight. From the manner in which Napoleon continued to hesitate and to send messengers, after all his preparations were complete, it would seem that he, at least, had hoped to the last that an accommodation might be reached. Narbonne’s report put an end to doubt.

Either Alexander’s breach of the Continental system must be borne, to the ruin of Napoleon’s whole policy, or there must be war. The Emperor had gone too far to stop. What would the world say if, after having made such gigantic preparations, he abandoned the enterprise without having extorted a single concession? The very “nature of things” drove him on, and, dismissing the Dresden conference, he put his host in motion for the Niemen.