At least the worst troops, the rowdy Paris Garde Mobile, were packed off to the capital, to everyone’s relief. Their drinking, vandalism, carousing with women they had brought along, their jeers and insults to the Emperor and MacMahon and their disdain for regulars who had been beaten by the Germans had set a demoralizing example: but their behaviour was extreme. When Napoleon and the Prince Imperial rode past 1 Corps on 19 August there were still shouts of ‘Long Live the Emperor!’6 How long such confidence as the troops still had in their leaders could be sustained on campaign would soon be tested. On 21 August MacMahon set his army in motion.
The stimulus to leave Châlons came from an alarmed Colonel Stoffel, former military attaché in Berlin and now the army’s one-man intelligence service. On 20 August he learned that German cavalry was 44 kilometres away, and took his apprehensions to MacMahon, who declared, ‘Enemy cavalry could, after a night march, be here the day after tomorrow. We must leave tomorrow.’7 Châlons was no place to give battle against a stronger enemy, but equally a few enemy horsemen were hardly an imminent threat. One officer felt that, in withdrawing, ‘We had the appearance of fleeing before the enemy.’8
For the army moved neither east towards Verdun nor south against the Crown Prince, options urged by Palikao, but north-west to Rheims, further away from Metz and the enemy. MacMahon, who was vainly seeking further information about Bazaine, explained to Palikao that ‘if Bazaine breaks out to the north, I shall be better placed to help him; if he breaks out to the south, he will be too far away for me to be useful to him in any case.’9
The march from Châlons to Rheims did not augur well. Men woken in the night stood in line or in the saddle for hours awaiting their turn to move. Wagon convoys crossing columns caused traffic jams. During the long, hot march over the dusty plain of Champagne thousands of men fell out as badly made or poorly fitting boots took their toll. Even the Marines, who had to cover 40 kilometres, were not yet hardened to route marches. Supply arrangements broke down, and even when men got food that evening they lacked kindling wood to cook it. Some took to pillage or deserted. Exhausted stragglers were still finding their way into camp around Rheims next morning. The Emperor, meanwhile, summoned MacMahon to Courcelles, west of the city, to discuss strategy with a visitor from Paris.
The Die is Cast
Since his fall from power in 1869, Eugène Rouher had continued as the guiding spirit of the authoritarian Bonapartists and trusted counsellor of the Empress. As President of the Senate, he had inspired the plebiscite and had worked to undermine the Ollivier Ministry. On 16 July he had delivered a fulsome address congratulating the Emperor in terms implying that the war was premeditated: ‘the Emperor has known how to wait; but, for four years, he has carried our armaments to the peak of perfection … Thanks to your efforts, Sire, France is ready.’10 Trochu considered Rouher ‘the evil genius of imperial France’.11
Now, visiting the Emperor unofficially, Rouher urged the views of Eugénie and Palikao for a rapid march to rescue Bazaine and the abandonment of any idea of falling back on Paris. MacMahon countered these political considerations with military arguments. There was no further news from Metz. ‘It’s impossible to go to Bazaine’s rescue. Bazaine has no munitions or foodstuffs and will be compelled to capitulate, and we shall arrive too late.’12 To lead his army eastwards to Verdun or Metz would be to expose it to defeat by overwhelming German forces. Far better to conserve it as a nucleus for the organization of a force of 250,000 to 300,000 men in front of Paris. By moving to Rheims, MacMahon had kept open the option of falling back on Paris, with good defensive positions available to him. Rouher yielded to these arguments, admitting his lack of military expertise. Besides, he saw advantage in placing all forces around Paris under the command of the loyal MacMahon, so undermining the mistrusted Trochu. He drew up proclamations accordingly and returned to the capital.
Next morning, 22 August, MacMahon gave orders for withdrawal towards Paris. Then a despatch arrived which changed his mind entirely. It was from Bazaine, dated 19 August, and had been smuggled through the lines. It reported that his troops were tired by their battles and needed two or three days’ rest, but ‘I still count on heading north via Montmédy and so regaining the main road to Sainte-Menehould and Châlons, if it isn’t too strongly occupied. If it is, I shall continue towards Sedan or even Mézières to reach Châlons.’13
MacMahon’s sense of duty momentarily overcame any strategic doubts. If, as Bazaine’s message indicated, a breakout from Metz was imminent, how could he not go to the aid of a brother officer? Moreover, rather than embarking on a suicidal mission eastwards straight into the heart of the German positions, heading for Montmédy would keep him on their northern flank and provide a diversion that could help Bazaine and perhaps make junction with him possible.
MacMahon immediately cancelled orders to fall back towards Paris and issued new ones for an eastward march. He sent a reply to Bazaine: ‘Received your despatch of the 19th. Am at Rheims; am heading for Montmédy; will be on the Aisne the day after tomorrow, whence I shall act according to circumstances to come to your assistance.’14
He wired his intentions to Palikao. His telegram crossed one from the War Minister to the Emperor. The Cabinet, unanimously rejecting Rouher’s recommendations, insisted that ‘Not to help Bazaine would have the most deplorable consequences in Paris.’15 Napoleon communicated the gist of the message to MacMahon, which only fortified the decision he had already taken.
Only after the war did a controversy blow up about a more tentative message from Bazaine dated 20 August: ‘The enemy is continually gathering strength around me, and to rejoin you I shall very probably follow the line of the northern fortresses, and shall advise you of my route, if, however, I can undertake the march without compromising the army.’16
This message reached headquarters, but neither MacMahon nor his staff officers remembered having seen it. Colonel Stoffel would be accused by a military court of having suppressed it in order not to weaken MacMahon’s resolve, though he protested his innocence so strongly that he received a prison sentence for contempt of court. In any event, the despatch was overlooked. MacMahon later gave contradictory views on whether the element of doubt it introduced might have modified his decisions. Like much about the wisdom of the campaign, the question must remain a matter of speculation.
Was MacMahon’s eastward march doomed from the outset? Palikao and others would argue that the best chance to rescue Bazaine had already passed. Had MacMahon marched directly from Châlons to Verdun on 21 August, they asserted, his army could have arrived in four days and beaten the German covering force nearby as a prelude to breaking the blockade of Metz while the Crown Prince was still to the west. No one can say with certainty whether this could have succeeded had the army moved fast, covered by an effective cavalry screen. Ducrot was in favour of such a bold stroke. A Napoleon I, leading a veteran army, might conceivably have carried it off. Yet the odds against its success were long, and MacMahon’s scepticism was understandable. He was no Napoleon, and his army was an imperfect instrument. Besides, the success of Palikao’s plan depended unduly on good luck; on the Germans being off their guard and remaining passive for several days while the French advanced, rather than concentrating against them. It ignored the fact that the Germans around Metz were strong enough to contain Bazaine while holding off the Army of Châlons until the Crown Prince could return to their aid. Even if, by great good fortune, MacMahon managed to join forces with Bazaine, they would still be in the presence of German armies that outnumbered them. The risks of the French being trapped and crushed by superior numbers were therefore much higher than Palikao allowed. Would the more northerly route offer any better chance of success, allowing as it did for the option of escape to the north? Only with boldness, speed, secrecy, skill in manoeuvre and deception, and a generous helping of luck, could the operation to relieve Metz have any chance of success. In all these the French would prove sadly lacking.
The
March to the East
From Rheims to Montmédy, MacMahon’s objective, is about 100 kilometres as the crow flies: five days’ march. Yet six days after setting out on 23 August the Army of Châlons had covered scarcely two-thirds of the distance.
The advance began confidently, despite leaden skies, cold driving rain, and the usual traffic snarls caused by poor planning. But, although MacMahon had ordered the troops to carry four days’ rations, supply arrangements broke down before the end of the first day, particularly in 5 and 12 Corps. On the army’s southern flank, meanwhile, men of 7 Corps could see huge columns of smoke rising from Châlons Camp, where cavalry had been detailed to evacuate what stores they could. The rest was burned ‘in anticipation of the approach of the Prussians, before the eyes of an army which, from the following day, would be short of everything’.17
Pillage was rife at Châlons, and also at Rheims in the army’s rear, where four hundred deserters joined by civilians ran amok for several hours before being rounded up. The aftermath was witnessed next day by Dr Sarazin who was returning to the army after tending the wounded at Frœschwiller and having been transported through Germany and repatriated under the Geneva Convention. At Rheims station, ‘A food convoy had been pillaged by troops; at some points the track was soaked in wine and littered with the remains of packing crates and stove in barrels. Stragglers and drunkards belonging to all arms of the service were swarming on every street and filling all the bars.’ Among the citizens of Rheims ‘we heard nothing but complaints and recriminations and, of those we questioned, some were preparing to take flight, others to receive the Prussians, who were about to arrive and would be in Rheims before midday. We were told that they … were giving over to pillage and flames every town and village that resisted them; that it was very lucky that the French army had departed, and as for the remaining francs-tireurs, they would be forced to clear off or to give themselves up without firing a shot. The thermometer of patriotism stood at zero.’18
On the march too pillage resumed as men ran short of food. Henhouses were raided, potatoes dug up and orchards stripped of unripe fruit, which caused stomach upsets. Fatal accidents occurred as men fired recklessly at hares. Stern orders were issued against marauding, and the following days saw instances of officers putting pistols to their men’s heads in an effort to halt it, but to little effect. One officer confessed after attempting this that ‘It was repugnant to me to fire my first cartridge at a soldier of the French army.’19
On 24 August MacMahon diverted north to the railway at Rethel where supplies were issued. Thus a day was lost, and on the 25th many units made short marches or marked time. Next day the army left behind the chalky plains of Champagne and entered the wooded, hilly, difficult country of the Argonne, where narrow roads turned to quagmires under the tramp of men, horses, livestock and vehicles in relentless, pelting rain. Inquisitive enemy cavalry now appeared from the south, but French horsemen, sticking too close to their own columns when they were in evidence at all, seemed incapable of driving them off. Frightened peasants told of large German forces not far behind. General Bordas’s infantry brigade was sent to Grand Pré to protect the army’s right flank, but after a skirmish Bordas took alarm, wrongly convinced that he faced ‘superior forces’. The rest of 7 Corps was put on the alert and spent a cold, weary night ‘with our ears cocked’, straining for ‘the least sound of a man’s footstep or a horse’s hooves’.20
Expecting an attack, MacMahon halted the army’s march and had it take positions facing south. At dawn on the 27th he fleetingly contemplated attacking, but the threat failed to materialize. The eastward trek was resumed. Later that day, after a sharp encounter with Saxon cavalry near Buzancy, 5 Corps was similarly halted and held in line of battle before turning its back and marching on its way, much to its men’s disgust. The meandering, hesitant and timid way the march was being conducted was stirring their contempt for their commanders. The troops no longer cheered the Emperor.
MacMahon had been strenuously seeking word of Bazaine from the civil authorities in the surrounding region. On the 25th came a report that he had broken out south-west from Metz, but it proved unfounded. Unknown to MacMahon, Bazaine did prepare a sortie eastwards from Metz on the 26th, but abandoned his bungled, half-hearted attempt when it rained heavily. Bazaine seems to have persuaded himself that he was performing a useful service simply by keeping his army intact in Metz. For reasons best known to himself, he chose not to share with his generals MacMahon’s message of 22 August (smuggled in rolled in a cigarette) that the Army of Châlons was on its way.
At the little town of Le Chesne Populeux on 27 August MacMahon received confirmation from trustworthy sources that Bazaine had not moved from Metz, where he was blockaded by 200,000 men. Worse, instead of Bazaine marching northwards on the east bank of the Meuse, German forces were reported in that direction, well placed to contest any French attempt to cross the river and reach Montmédy. There were also heavy German columns to the south and astride the route back to Châlons. MacMahon’s position must now be known to the enemy through his cavalry.
MacMahon saw that his campaign to join Bazaine could not succeed, but it was still possible to save his army by withdrawing northwards to Mézières and getting his men on trains back to Paris. He decided to do so, setting out his reasons in a telegram to the War Minister that evening. As he was about to send it General Faure cautioned, ‘The reply you get from Paris will be such that perhaps you will be prevented from carrying out your new plans. You could leave sending it until tomorrow, when we shall already be on our way to Mézières.’21 MacMahon reread the message, but sent it anyway. It concluded:
I have had no news from Bazaine since the 19th. If I go to join him I shall be attacked in front by parts of the First and Second Armies which, using the cover of forests, can conceal a force superior to mine; and simultaneously by the Crown Prince’s army which will cut my line of retreat. Tomorrow I shall head for Mézières, whence I shall continue my retreat to the west, according to circumstances.22
Faure was proved right. Palikao had been ‘boiling with impatience’ at the languid pace of MacMahon’s advance. He considered the Marshal half-hearted and his own plan ‘our only chance of salvation’.23 Upon receiving MacMahon’s telegram he immediately wired the Emperor, ‘If you abandon Bazaine, there will be revolution in Paris, and you will be attacked by all the enemy’s forces.’ He insisted that MacMahon still had an adequate lead over the advancing enemy, adding that ‘Everybody here understands the necessity of relieving Bazaine, and the anxiety with which we follow your movements is extreme.’24
MacMahon was greatly perturbed. He asked Ducrot if he thought it still possible to reach Montmédy. Despite the dangers, the sanguine Ducrot was persuaded ‘that by throwing all our cavalry onto our right wing, we could halt the enemy’s advance and achieve a junction with Bazaine’.25 Whether the vacillating marshal was convinced by this or by Palikao’s arguments, he evidently felt that he could not disobey such a forcible directive. His ingrained sense of a soldier’s duty prevailed. Reportedly he said, ‘Come on then, let’s go and get whipped!’26 He would afterwards be much criticized for not insisting on withdrawing northwards. After all, he was commander in the field. Had he been of a different temperament he might have defied the War Minister and galvanized the Emperor into backing him, threatening resignation. He was to be accused of putting loyalty to the dynasty above his duty to the country. Yet Napoleon himself grasped the dangers of the new course, observing that ‘it would perhaps have been better to follow yesterday’s plan.’27
MacMahon had changed the orders for withdrawal northwards to a resumption of the march on Montmédy even before a further telegram from Palikao arrived on the afternoon of 28 August: ‘In the name of the Cabinet and the Privy Council, I demand that you go to help Bazaine, taking advantage of the thirty hours lead that you have over the Crown Prince.’28 The troops had already started moving north when the new orders arrived, causing much swearing, co
unter-marching and consequent traffic jams.
On the day the army had set forth, 23 August, Gambetta had made one of his attacks on the government in the Legislature, declaring his conviction that ‘this country is sliding towards the abyss without realizing it.’29 With Palikao’s order and MacMahon’s passive obedience to it, this prophecy was dangerously close to fulfilment. As his men, soaked to the skin, slogged down muddy roads in the pouring rain watched by ever bolder German horsemen, a 7 Corps officer reflected, ‘In all, what an evil day for our army this 28 August was. It had not given battle or suffered losses, and yet a great sense of unease hung over it; everybody was downhearted, our souls were full of apprehension. We had a sort of foreboding that the enemy must have taken advantage of our uncertainties and of all the time we had wasted!’30 The enemy had.
Chapter 9
The Path of the Invader
The Conflict Deepens
After the war military theorists, not least Moltke himself, would analyze at leisure technical flaws in the German campaign so far. Of six pitched battles in a fortnight only one, Gravelotte–Saint-Privat on 18 August, could be said to have been willed and planned by the high command; and that had gone so awry on parts of the line that at the southern end of the battlefield the Germans momentarily believed they had suffered defeat. The other clashes had been encounter battles brought on by unit commanders which, though ending in bloody victories, had contributed only accidentally, if at all, to the strategic objective of enveloping the enemy’s main army. The French had retreated too fast for that.
Sedan 1870- The Eclipse of France Page 17