The Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815), page 33
On 22 October, a deranged General, Claude de Malet, had escaped from a Parisian mental institution and, claiming that Napoleon had perished in Russia, tried to proclaim a republic.89 Although this bizarre coup was quashed within hours, it highlighted the political nervousness engendered by the emperor’s prolonged absence from the seat of government. Realizing, too, that his retreat would almost certainly lead to Prussia’s defection, Napoleon resolved to return to Paris as soon as possible to prepare for a new war. Accordingly, once he was satisfied that he had done all he could for the remnants of La Grande Armée, he handed command to Murat and, setting out by sleigh on 5 December, sped across Europe, arriving at the Tuileries just 13 days later.
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Notes
1. See, for example, Metternich’s opinion of 17 January 1811 regarding the war in Spain in C.S.B. Buckland, Metternich and the British Government from 1809 to 1813 (London, 1932), pp. 172–3.
2. See M. Finley, The Most Monstrous of Wars (Columbia, SC, 1994), pp. 114–26.
3. Consult C. Oman, A History of the Peninsular War (Oxford, 1902–30), III, pp. 341–89 and 390–437.
4. See, for instance, A. John, ‘Farming in Wartime, 1793–1815’, in E. Jones and G. Mingay (eds.), Land, Labour and Population in the Industrial Revolution (London, 1967); G. Hueckel, ‘English Farming Profits during the Napoleonic Wars, 1793–1815’, Explorations in Economic History, 13/3 (1976).
5. W. Galpin, The Grain Supply of England (New York, 1925), p. 111; A. Cunningham, British Credit in the Last Napoleonic War (Cambridge, 1910), pp. 75–6.
6. Quoted in H.L. Coles, The War of 1812 (Chicago, 1965), p. 24.
7. See, for example, P.W. Schroeder, The Transformation of European Politics (Oxford, 1996), pp. 385–8.
8. J. Hanoteau (ed.), Memoirs of General de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza (2 vols, London, 1935), I, p. 66 (hereafter cited as Caulaincourt, Memoirs).
9. P. Mackesy, The War in the Mediterranean (Cambridge, MA, 1957), pp. 353–5.
10. See A.H. Barton, ‘Late Gustavian Autocracy in Sweden: Gustavus IV Adolf and his Opponents, 1792–1809’, Scandinavian Studies, 46/3 (1974).
11. See A. Palmer, Bernadotte (London, 1990), pp. 143–6.
12. Palmer, Bernadotte, pp. 152–5.
13. See Palmer, Bernadotte, pp. 172–3. For further information about Swedish affairs during this period, consult: I. Anderson, A History of Sweden (London, 1955); F.D. Scott, Bernadotte and the Fall of Napoleon (Cambridge, MA, 1935); H. Barton, ‘Sweden and the Atlantic Revolution, 1760–1815’, CREP (1982).
14. See, for example, A.N. Ryan, Trade with the Enemy in the Scandinavian and Baltic Ports during the Napoleonic War: For and Against (London, 1962).
15. Quoted in Paul Britten Austin, 1812: The March on Moscow (London, 1993), p. 27.
16. Quoted in R. Muir, Britain and the Defeat of Napoleon (New Haven, CT, 1996), p. 189.
17. See Muir, Britain and Napoleon, pp. 187–90.
18. See A. Palmer, Alexander I (London, 1974), pp. 199–203; A. Gielgud (ed.), Memoirs of Prince Adam Czartoryski and his Correspondence with Alexander I (2 vols, London, 1888), II, pp. 222–8; A. Fournier, Napoleon I: A Biography (2 vols, London, 1911), II, pp. 151–2, 156–7.
19. See Caulaincourt, Memoirs, II, pp. 62–8, 84–5.
20. For an overview of the relationship, consult A.C. Niven, Napoleon and Alexander I (Washington, 1978); H. Parker, ‘Why did Napoleon invade Russia?” CREP (Bicentennial Consortium, 1989).
21. See A.W. Crosby, America, Russia, Hemp and Napoleon: America’s Trade with Russia and the Baltic, 1783–1812 (Columbus, OH, 1965); M.F. Zlotnikov, Kontinental’naia Blockada i Rossiia (Moscow, 1966).
22. See Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, pp. 59–60.
23. See W.H. Zawadzki, ‘Russia and the Reopening of the Polish Question, 1801–14’, International History Review, 7/1 (1985).
24. See Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, pp. 62–8, 84–5.
25. Fournier, Napoleon, II, p. 159.
26. C. von Clausewitz, The Campaign of 1812 in Russia (London, 1992 edition), pp. 14–26; A. Palmer, Napoleon in Russia (London. 1967), p. 26; Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, pp. 68–70.
27. D.G. Chandler, The Campaigns of Napoleon (London, 1966), pp. 754–8. Also see ASH, C2–697 ‘État du personnel’. Other French manuscript sources relating to the 1812 campaign include: ASH, C2 522–35 ‘Situations’; C2 120, 122, 134, 286–8, 290, 299, 303–4 ‘Grande Armée: Correspondance’.
28. See Muir, Britain and Napoleon, p. 222.
29. Muir, Britain and Napoleon, pp. 222–8.
30. See Austin, March on Moscow, p. 29.
31. NC, XXIII, p. 528.
32. See, for instance, Chandler, Campaigns, p. 757; G.F. Nafziger, Napoleon’s Invasion of Russia (Novato, CA, 1988), pp. 85–8.
33. NC, XXIII, p. 432.
34. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 104–5.
35. NC, XXIII, p. 432.
36. NC, XXIII, p. 469.
37. For a statistical analysis of La Grande Armée in this campaign, see O. von Pivka, Armies of 1812 (London, 1977).
38. ASH, C2–525/63.
39. Nafziger, Invasion, p. 94.
40. Nafziger, Invasion, p. 94.
41. See, for example, J. Coignet, The Note-Books of Captain Coignet, Soldier of the Empire 1799–1816 (London, 1985 edition), pp. 208–11.
42. NC, XXIV, p. 19.
43. See Pivka, Armies, passim; Clausewitz, 1812, p. 95.
44. For a more detailed summary of the operations on this front, consult: Chandler, Campaigns, pp. 767–82; Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 114–27, 173–80.
45. Clausewitz, 1812, p. 136.
46. E. Labaume, A Circumstantial Narrative of the Campaign in Russia (London, 1815), p. 28. Also see R. Wilson, Narrative of Events during the Invasion of Russia by Napoleon Bonaparte (London, 1860), pp. 46–8.
47. Typical comments regarding the cossacks can be found in Labaume, Narrative, pp. 304–5.
48. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 209–10; B. Dundulis, Napoléon et la Lituanie en 1812 (Paris, 1940).
49. See, for instance, Austin, March on Moscow, pp. 221–9; and Paul Britten Austin, 1812: Napoleon in Moscow (London, 1995), pp. 94–103.
50. D. Chlapowski, Memoirs of a Polish Lancer (Chicago, 1922), p. 115. Also see p. 116 and Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 179–80.
51. See Napoleon’s comments about this in Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, p. 204.
52. See E. Tarle, Napoleon’s Invasion of Russia, 1812 (London, 1942), p. 118; Chlapowski, Polish Lancer, p. 122.
53. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 183–5.
54. See Chlapowski, Polish Lancer, pp. 111–12.
55. See Labaume, Narrative, pp. 97–8; Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 186–95.
56. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 199–206.
57. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 129–67.
58. See Muir, Britain and Napoleon, pp. 225–8.
59. P. de Ségur, History of the Expedition to Russia (London, 1825), I, p. 202.
60. Ségur, History, I, p. 252.
61. Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 142–3.
62. See, for example, C.J. Esdaile, The Wars of Napoleon (London, 1995), p. 258.
63. Ségur, History, I, pp. 322–4.
64. Ségur, History, I, p. 331. Also see Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, p. 195; A.J.B.F. Bourgogne, Memoirs of Sergeant Bourgogne, 1812–13 (London, 1996 edition), p. 7.
65. Ségur, History, I, pp. 333, 341–2, 346.
66. Clausewitz, 1812, p. 160.
67. See Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 152–7.
68. For more details of Borodino, consult; Ségur, History, I, pp. 313–56; Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, pp. 192–201; Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 149–74; Chlapowski, Polish Lancer, pp. 117–18; Coignet, Note-Books, pp. 223–5; Chandler, Campaigns, pp. 799–806; Austin, March on Moscow, pp. 273–328; Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 215–57; Labaume, Narrative, pp. 134–9; R. Riehn, 1812: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign (New York, 1991); C. Duffy, Borodino and the War of 1812 (New York, 1973); A.V. Gerua, Borodino (St Petersburg, 1912); A. Brett-James (ed.), 1812: Eyewitness Accounts of Napoleon’s Defeat in Russia (New York, 1966).
69. See Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, pp. 199–200; Ségur, History, I, pp. 344–7.
70. See his concerns about ‘another battle tomorrow’, etc., in Ségur, History, I, p. 347; and Clausewitz’s comments in 1812, pp. 168–70.
71. Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, p. 70.
72. See Austin, March on Moscow, pp. 338, 347, 349, 351, 356; Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 188–91.
73. For an examination of the French occupation of Moscow, see Austin, Napoleon in Moscow.
74. See, for example, Caulaincourt, Memoirs, I, p. 254; Clausewitz, 1812, p. 192.
75. E. Kraehe, Metternich’s German Policy (Princeton, 1963–84), I, pp. 169–71.
76. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 574–6, 582–3.
77. See, for example, Chandler, Campaigns, pp. 817–18.
78. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 261–3.
79. See Bourgogne, Memoirs, pp. 59–60; Baron M. de Marbot, The Memoirs of Baron Marbot (London, 1988), II, pp. 282–3.
80. See Labaume, Narrative, p. 257.
81. Pivka, Armies, p. 32. Bourgogne, in his Memoirs, p. 80, speaks of ‘twenty-seven degrees of frost’ and, especially on pp. 74–92, 104–5, 115, 118 and 198, provides an insight into the traumatic experiences of those civilians and soldiers who participated in the retreat.
82. Clausewitz, 1812, p. 213.
83. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 271–88.
84. Clausewitz, 1812, p. 216. Chandler, Campaigns, p. 853, estimates Russian losses as at least 150 000 dead, with a further 300 000 wounded or otherwise incapacitated.
85. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 305–12.
86. See Chandler, Campaigns, pp. 830–2.
87. See Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 271–98.
88. See Clausewitz, 1812, pp. 206–11; Chandler, Campaigns, pp. 835–47; Nafziger, Invasion, pp. 315–24.
89. See G. Artom, Napoléon est mort en Russie (Paris, 1969).
10
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The German War of Liberation, 1813–1814
By the closing days of 1812, with the full extent of the catastrophe which had befallen Napoleon’s Grande Armée de la Russie gradually being revealed, yet another diplomatic realignment of the European powers was under way. The precise numbers of men, horses, guns and other pieces of equipment which the emperor had lost on the Russian steppes will never be known, but were certainly immense. One authority puts them at 570000 personnel, 200000 cavalry and draught horses, and 1050 cannon.1 Nor were many of the troops who did survive in any condition to take up arms again. One eyewitness who saw the remnants of some units stagger into Berlin recalls that: ‘One saw no guns, no cavalry, only suffering men crippled by frightful wounds, men with hands, arms or feet missing or else completely destroyed by frostbite.’2 Indeed, of the I Corps, which, it will be recalled, commenced the Russian campaign with 70 000 personnel, only 2281 men could be mustered in mid-January 1813.3 Similarly, the strength of the Imperial Guard had plummeted from 50 000 soldiers to just 1533, of whom 200 were permanently invalided by amputations necessitated by frostbite or injuries. Of the once superb Old Guard Grenadiers and Chasseurs à pied, just 823 men remained, while the Young Guard had all but ‘ceased to exist’.4
So great were the losses of men and matériel that all of Napoleon’s gains over the preceding eight years now stood in jeopardy. Just as the emperor had feared, Prussia’s defection from his cause began almost immediately. Several prominent officers – including Clausewitz – had been so appalled by the Franco-Prussian alliance of March 1812 that they had left Prussia for Russia, where, together with Stein, they were to the fore in urging the Tsar to sustain the war against Napoleon.5 In mid-December 1812, as the dregs of La Grande Armée crossed the Niemen, Clausewitz was attached to Wittgenstein’s forces, which were trying to intercept Marshal Macdonald’s X Corps.6 This was predominantly composed of Prussians under the command of General Yorck and had been stranded in the vicinity of Riga when the French front had finally collapsed. On encountering Wittgenstein’s vanguards near Tauroggen, Yorck, following negotiations brokered by Clausewitz, signed a convention which declared the Prussian units to be neutral.7 (Macdonald’s other troops continued their withdrawal to Danzig). Yorck’s insubordinate conduct compromised the position of his superiors. Since it was based on realism rather than friendship, neither Frederick William III nor Hardenberg derived any pleasure from their alliance with Napoleon, but it did give them a degree of security which Yorck had now endangered. Fearing the consequences of either a Franco-Russian accord or a resurgence of Napoleon’s power, Berlin promptly disowned the convention and issued orders for Yorck’s arrest and court-martial. By this time, however, he was appealing to the garrison of Königsberg and to East Prussia’s Landstände, persuasively arguing that the king was acting under duress and secretly approved of his behaviour.8 With Stein stirring up the inhabitants of the territories liberated by the Tsar’s troops,9 and with the patriotic intelligentsia and the military reformers imbued with renewed enthusiasm and clamouring for action, Frederick William began to lose control of his kingdom. Civil war or revolution seemed in the air. After Hardenberg had attempted unsuccessfully to get Austria to either side with Prussia and Russia, or to join the former in creating a neutral bloc which might compel Napoleon and the Tsar to come to terms,10 Frederick William was left with little choice other than to commit himself wholeheartedly to a pact with Russia.
There were hefty actual and potential costs attached to this, however. First, Prussia agreed to field 80000 regular troops, backed by militia units. Whereas the Paris Convention of September 1808 had stipulated that the Prussian Army was not to exceed 42000 personnel for 10 years, Scharnhorst’s ‘Krümpersystem’ had created appreciable, hidden reserves. In August 1811, for instance, Prussia’s forces apparently exceeded 74 000 men,11 while, at the time of its mobilization in 1813, Petre calculates that approximately 34 000 soldiers were instantly added to the standing army from this source.12 This meant that Frederick William had perhaps 70 000 troops to hand13 and, in order to meet his obligations to Russia under the treaty, was obliged to resort to mass conscription, a measure which, as we have seen, he had hitherto been wary of because of its inevitable political and social ramifications.14 Second, while, with Russia’s help, the Hohenzollern hoped to see their realm returned to the status and dimensions it had enjoyed in 1806, it was agreed that Prussia’s original frontiers were not to be restored. The Tsar envisaged acquiring most of her Polish lands (which had been incorporated into the Duchy of Warsaw) and compensating her at Saxony’s expense. Third, and most important, although both Prussia and Russia pledged not to make a separate peace with France, the former was embarking on a course of action which, if unsuccessful, would prove suicidal. In the event of defeat – and, despite the 1812 débâcle, Napoleon was still rightly held in awe, even if his army had been obliterated – the Tsar might withdraw to his homeland, but there would be no sanctuary for Frederick William. This time, Napoleon would eradicate Prussia, bringing the Hohenzollern dynasty to an end.
While still technically her enemy, Prussia hoped to secure some material support from Britain in the impending confrontation with France. Even before the Prussians formally entered the war on 16 March, London had resolved to resume diplomatic relations and was making preparations to provide subsidies and supplies to them as well as to the Russians.15 Although the long succession of ineffectual coalitions had taught Britain that the continental powers were only likely to exert themselves in pursuit of their own interests, Napoleon’s failure in Russia seemed to the British to offer the best chance yet seen of breaking France’s European hegemony. They seized upon it accordingly, urging prospective allies to take advantage of France’s sudden weakness. While parts of the Parliamentary Opposition argued that, at this juncture, a favourable peace might be extracted,16 the government, if only because they feared being excluded from any settlement by Austria, Prussia and Russia, was intent on fighting on. There were those who anticipated that Napoleon might be obliged to evacuate the Iberian Peninsula in order to bolster his forces in Eastern Europe. ‘The most formidable army ever collected by Bonaparte has been substantially destroyed,’ Lord Liverpool wrote to Wellington on 22 December 1812. ‘Under these circumstances the question naturally occurs whether he will leave the French army in Spain? . . . Whatever it may cost Bonaparte to abandon Spain, I think he will prefer that alternative to the loss of Germany.’17 In fact, while Napoleon was to withdraw 20 000 soldiers to furnish the new regiments he was raising with officer cadres and a leaven of seasoned soldiers, he had judged the risks involved in forsaking his own brother’s kingdom to be too great. The British, like their Allies, were slow to realize this, however, and some thought was given as to where at least part of the peninsular army might most usefully be transferred. Wellington protested and, as the battle for Spain continued, managed to thwart most of the attempts to take troops from him.18 Nevertheless, there was a price attached to this: unable to commit a substantial force to the war in Germany, Britain could only look on as the other great powers struggled for supremacy at the heart of Europe.
