This transformation of German society seemed further to entangle the political threads which had already debased the quality of Napoleon's strategy. Technically no fault can be found with his prompt changes of plan to meet emergencies, or with the details of movements which led to his prolonged inaction. Yet, largely considered, the result was disastrous. The great medical specialist refrains from the immediate treatment of a sickly organ until the general health is sufficiently recuperated to assure success; the medicaster makes a direct attack on evident disease. Napoleon conceived a great general plan for concentrating about Dresden to recuperate his forces; but when Blücher prepared to advance he grew impatient, saw only his immediate trouble, and ordered Macdonald to make a grand dash. Driving in the hostile outposts to Förstgen, he then spent a whole day hesitating whether to go on or to turn westward and disperse another detachment of his ubiquitous foe, which, as he heard from Ney, had bridged the Elbe at the mouth of the Black Elster. It was the twenty-third before he turned back to do neither, but to secure needed rest on the left bank of the Elbe. But if Napoleon's own definition of a truly great man be accurate,—namely, one who can command the situations he creates,—he was himself no longer great. The enemy not only had bridges over the Elbe at the mouth of the Elster, but at Acken and Rosslau. The left bank was as untenable for the French as the right, and it was of stern necessity that the various detachments of the army were called in to hold a line far westward, to the north of Leipsic. Oudinot, restored to partial favor, was left to keep the rear at Dresden with part of the young guard. On October first it was learned that Schwarzenberg was manœuvering on the left to surround the invaders if possible by the south, and that Blücher, with like aim, was moving to the north. It was evident that the allies had formed a great resolution, and Napoleon confessed to Marmont that his "game of chess was becoming confused."
The fact was, the Emperor's diplomacy had far outstripped the general's strategy. It was blazoned abroad that on September twenty-seventh a hundred and sixty thousand new conscripts from the class of 1815, with a hundred and twenty thousand from the arrears of the seven previous classes, would be assembled at the military depots in France. Boys like these had won Lützen, Bautzen, and Dresden, and a large minority would be able-bodied men, late in maturing, perhaps, but strong. With this preliminary blare of trumpets, a letter for the Emperor Francis was sent to General Bubna. The bearer was instructed to say that Napoleon would make great sacrifices both for Austria and Prussia if only he could get a hearing. It was too late: already, on September ninth, the three powers had concluded an offensive and defensive alliance for the purpose of liberating the Rhenish princes, of making sovereign and independent the states of southern and western Germany, and of restoring both Prussia and Austria to their limits of 1805. This was the treaty which beguiled Bavaria from the French alliance, and made the German contingents in the French armies, the Saxons among the rest, wild for emancipation from a hated service. It explained the notification previously received from the King of Bavaria, who, in return for the recognition of his complete autonomy, formally joined the coalition on October eighth, with an army of thirty-six thousand men. How much of all this the French spies and emissaries made known to Napoleon does not appear. One thing only is certain, that Napoleon's flag of truce was sent back with his message undelivered. This ominous fact had to be considered in connection with the movements of the enemy. They had learned one of Napoleon's own secrets. In a bulletin of 1805 are the words: "It rains hard, but that does not stop the march of the grand army." In 1806 he boasted concerning Prussia: "While people are deliberating, the French army is marching." In 1813, while he himself was vacillating, his foes were stirring. On October third, Blücher, having accomplished a superb strategic march, drove Bertrand to Bitterfeld, and stood before Kemberg, west of the Elbe, with sixty-four thousand men; Bernadotte, with eighty thousand, was crossing at Acken and Rosslau; and Schwarzenberg, with a hundred and seventy thousand, was already south of Leipsic; Bennigsen, with fifty thousand reserves, had reached Teplitz. The enemy would clearly concentrate at Leipsic and cut off Napoleon's base unless he retreated. But it was October fifth before the bitter resolution to do so was taken, and then the movement began under compulsion. Murat was sent, with three infantry corps and one of cavalry, to hold Schwarzenberg until the necessary manœuvers could be completed.
CHAPTER III
The End of the Grand Army[3]
Plans for Conducting the Retreat — Napoleon's Health — Blücher's Brilliant Idea — Napoleon under Compulsion — His Skilful Concentration — The Battle-field around Leipsic — The Attack — Results of the First Day's Fighting — Attempt to Negotiate — Napoleon's Apathy — The Positions of the Third Day — The Grand Army Defeated — The Disaster at the Elster Bridge — Dissolution of the Grand Army.
But how should the retreat be conducted? Napoleon's habit of reducing his thoughts to writing for the sake of clearness remained strong upon him to the last, and in the painstaking notes which he made with regard to this important move he outlined two alternatives: to garrison Dresden with two corps, send three to reconnoiter about Chemnitz, and then march, with five and the guard, to attack Schwarzenberg; or else to strengthen Murat, place him between Schwarzenberg and Leipsic, and then advance to drive Bernadotte and Blücher behind the Elbe. But in winter the frozen Elbe with its flat shores would be no rampart. Both plans were abandoned, and on the seventh orders were issued for a retreat behind the Saale, the precipitous banks of which were a natural fortification. Behind this line of defense he could rest in safety during the winter, with his right at Erfurt and his left at Magdeburg. Dresden must, he concluded, be evacuated. This would deprive the allies of the easy refuge behind the Saxon and Bohemian mountains which they had sought at every onset, but it might leave them complete masters of Saxony. To avoid this he must take one of three courses: either halt behind the Mulde for one blow at the armies of the North and of Silesia, or join Murat for a decisive battle with the Austrian general, or else concentrate at Leipsic, and meet the onset of the united allies, now much stronger than he was.
The night of the seventh was spent in indecision as to any one or all of these ideas, but in active preparation for the actual movements of the retreat, however it should be conducted; any contingency might be met or a resolve taken when the necessity arose. During that night the Emperor took two warm baths. The habit of drinking strong coffee to prevent drowsiness had induced attacks of nervousness, and these were not diminished by his load of care. To allay these and other ailments, he had had recourse for some time to frequent tepid baths. Much has been written about a mysterious malady which had been steadily increasing, but the burden of testimony from the Emperor's closest associates at this time indicates that in the main he had enjoyed excellent health throughout the second Saxon campaign. He was, on the whole, calm and self-reliant, exhibiting signs of profound emotion only in connection with important decisions. He was certainly capable of clear insight and of severe application in a crisis; he could still endure exhausting physical exertion, and rode without discomfort, sitting his horse in the same stiff, awkward manner as of old. There were certainly intervals of self-indulgence and of lassitude, of excessive emotion and depressing self-examination, which seemed to require the offset of a physical stimulus; but on the whole there do not appear to have been such sharp attacks of illness, or even of morbid depression, as amount to providential interference; natural causes, complex but not inexplicable, sufficiently account for the subsequent disasters.
For instance, considerations of personal friendship having in earlier days often led him to unwise decisions, a like cause may be said to have brought on his coming disaster. It was the affection of the Saxon king for his beautiful capital which at the very last instant, on October eighth, induced Napoleon to cast all his well-weighed scheme to the winds, and—fatal decision!—leave Saint-Cyr and Lobau, with three corps, in Dresden. A decisive battle was imminent; the commander was untrue to his maxim that every division should be under the colors. But with or without his full force, the master-strategist was outwitted: the expected meeting did not take place as he finally reckoned. On the tenth his headquarters were at Düben, and his divisions well forward on the Elbe, ready for Bernadotte and Blücher; but there was no foe. Both these generals had been disconcerted by the unexpected swiftness of the French movements; the former actually contemplated recrossing the river to avoid a pitched battle with those whom he hoped before long to secure as his subjects. But the enthusiastic old Prussian shamed his ally into action, persuading him at least to march south from Acken, effect a junction with the army of Silesia, and cross the Saale to threaten Napoleon from the rear. This was a brilliant and daring plan, for if successful both armies might possibly unite with Schwarzenberg's; but even if unsuccessful in that, they would at least reproduce the situation in Silesia, and reduce the French to the "hither-and-thither" system, which, rendering a decisive battle impossible, had thwarted the Napoleonic strategy.
Napoleon spent a weary day of waiting in Düben, yawning and scribbling, but keeping his geographer and secretary in readiness. It was said at the time, and has since been repeated, that throughout this portion of the campaign Napoleon was not recognizable as himself: that he ruminated long when he should have been active; that he consulted when he should have given orders; that he was no longer ubiquitous as of old, but sluggish, and rooted to one spot. But it is hard to see what he left undone, his judgment being mistaken as it was. When rumors of Bernadotte's movements began to arrive, he dismissed the idea suggested by them as preposterous; when finally, on the twelfth, he heard that Blücher was actually advancing to Halle, and no possible doubt remained, he gave instant orders for a march on Leipsic. Critics have suggested that again delay had been his ruin; but this is not true. An advance over the Elbe toward Berlin in search of the enemy would merely have enabled Blücher and Bernadotte to join forces sooner, and have rendered their union with Schwarzenberg easier. No stricture is just but one: that Napoleon, knowing how impossible it was to obtain such exact information as he seemed determined to have, should have divined the enemy's plan, and acted sooner. The accurate information necessary for such foresight was not obtainable; in fact, it seldom is, and some allowance may be made if the general lingered before rushing into the "tube of a funnel," as Marmont expressed it. On the morning of the thirteenth, while the final arrangements for marching to Leipsic were making, came the news of Bavaria's defection. It spread throughout the army like wildfire, but its effect was less than might be imagined, and it served for the priming of a bulletin, issued on the fifteenth, announcing the approaching battle.
On the fifteenth, Murat, who had been steadily withdrawing before the allied army of the South, was overtaken at Wachau by Schwarzenberg's van. He fought all day with magnificent courage, and successfully, hurling the hostile cavalry skirmishers back on the main column. Within sound of his guns, Napoleon was reconnoitering his chosen battle-field in and about Leipsic; and when, after nightfall, the brothers-in-law met, the necessary arrangements were virtually complete. Those who were present at the council thought the Emperor inexplicably calm and composed—they said indifferent or stolid. But he had reasons to be confident rather than desperate, for by a touch of his old energy he had concentrated more swiftly than his foe, having a hundred and seventy thousand men in array. Reynier, with fourteen thousand more, was near; if Saint-Cyr and Lobau, with their thirty thousand, had been present instead of sitting idly in Dresden, the French would actually have outnumbered any army the coalition could have assembled for battle. The allies could hope at best to produce two hundred thousand men; Bernadotte was still near Merseburg; Blücher, though coming in from Halle, was not within striking distance. In spite of his vacillation and final failure to evacuate Dresden, Napoleon had an excellent fighting chance.