He had come to Erfurt to consolidate the alliance forged at Tilsit, only to see cracks developing in it. He had held court, surrounded by cringing monarchs, but, as he once confessed to his interior minister Chaptal, he felt they all despised him for his low birth and would gladly topple him from his throne. ‘I can only maintain myself on it by force; I can only accustom them to see me as their equal by keeping them under my yoke; my empire is destroyed if I cease to be feared.’ He was aware that the higher he rose the greater his vulnerability. It is tempting to think that the reason he was drawn to Alexander, the most unlikely and inconvenient ally for him, was that he sensed the tsar’s insecurities and did not feel such a parvenu in his company. However much he may have boasted about them, Napoleon lacked faith in the value of his own achievements. ‘Military glory, which lives so long in history, is that which is most quickly forgotten among contemporaries,’ he admitted to one of Josephine’s ladies. He also feared that his state-building and other achievements would not survive. Josephine remonstrated with him, maintaining that his genius gave him his title to greatness, to no avail. He was, according to Rapp, lamentably obsessed with what the aristocratic milieu of the Faubourg Saint-Germain thought of him, and ridiculously susceptible to gossip. It is ironic that while, as Talleyrand had noted, he used the theatre to drive home the message to the mostly idle and ineffectual sovereigns that he stood above them as the man of action, he lacked confidence in his own achievements and felt the need to adorn them with the trappings of royalty. ‘Simplicity does not suit a parvenu soldier such as myself as it does a hereditary sovereign,’ he said to one Polish lady.19
To Chaptal, he complained that it was only ancient dynasties that could count on unconditional popular support, and while a hereditary monarch could lie around being dissolute, he could not afford to, as ‘there is not one general who does not believe he has the same right to the throne as me’, which was patently not true. Mollien was struck by ‘his insatiable need to be the centre of everything’, which he believed to be dictated by ‘the fear lest any particle of power escape him’. He also noticed in Napoleon an obsessive need ‘to represent himself as the only essential man, to establish in the public perception an exclusive superiority, to belittle anything that might threaten to share it’, and he was convinced this was the result not of calculation, but of a kind of instinctive reaction – which suggests deep psychological insecurities. ‘Don’t you see,’ Napoleon used to say to members of his family, ‘that I was not born on the throne, that I have to maintain myself on it in the same way I ascended to it, with glory, that it has to keep growing, that an individual who becomes a sovereign, like me, cannot stop, that he has to keep climbing, and that he is lost if he remains still.’ He could certainly not afford to remain still now.20
The day following his arrival at Erfurt, he had received a special envoy from the Emperor Francis, General de Vincent. Although the audience had been courteous, with declarations of goodwill on both sides, it was obvious from Vincent’s tone and the Austrian armaments that Vienna was preparing for war. Napoleon could not conceive that Francis would be foolish enough to make war on his own, and this led him to suspect the existence of a secret agreement between him and Alexander.21
This made it all the more imperative to pacify Spain as quickly as possible. He was back at Saint-Cloud at eleven o’clock on the night of 18 October. On 22 October he visited the Salon (the painters who wished to submit had been given to understand that it would be desirable to show Napoleon visiting the battlefield of Eylau and casting a ‘consoling eye’ over it which would ‘soften the horror of death’; the winner, Antoine Gros, evidently achieved this, having managed to ‘give Napoleon an aura of kindness and majestic splendour’). In the course of the next few days he opened the session of the Legislative, held receptions, inspected public works, orphanages and hospices before leaving on 29 October. Travelling day and night, stopping only to dine briefly and meet officials along the way, sometimes taking to his horse, by 3 November he was at Bayonne, where in a letter to Joseph he admitted that he was ‘a little tired’. That did not stop him sitting up all night with Berthier dictating orders. By the evening of the next day he was in Tolosa, where he delivered a tirade to a group of monks, telling them that if they meddled in politics he would cut their ears off, which, not knowing French they could only judge the gist of by his tone. Much the same was true when, at Vitoria two days later, Joseph presented his ministers to him; he harangued them in a mixture of Italian and French, accusing them of incompetence and their clergy of being in the pay of the British, and poured scorn on the Spanish army. He declared that he would pacify the whole country in the space of two months and treat it like conquered territory.22
He took command of the Army of Spain, consisting of some 200,000 men spread across the country. While Marshal Soult on his right wing pushed back a British force of 40,000 under Sir John Moore, and on his left Lannes drove General Castaños back to Saragossa, Napoleon made for Madrid. On 12 November he reached Burgos, which had just been captured and was being put to the sack. One of his aides, Ségur, had been sent ahead, and selected the residence of the archbishop as the most suitable for his quarters. He was closely followed by Napoleon, accompanied only by Savary and Roustam. They went off in search of food and drink while Ségur lit a fire. Napoleon told him to open a window, and when Ségur pulled back the heavy curtains he was confronted by three Spanish soldiers, still fully armed, who had taken refuge there and now pleaded for their lives. Napoleon laughed at the danger he had run.23
He spent ten days in Burgos inspecting troops and then pressed on, forcing strong Spanish positions at the pass of Somosierra on 30 November, and arrived before Madrid two days later. He ordered the attack for the next day, and on 4 December the city surrendered. Napoleon took up residence in a country house at Chamartin outside the city, leaving that to his brother to repossess. From the moment he had joined Joseph at Vitoria he had ignored him, and Joseph was reduced to following in the wake of the army. He complained, with some reason, that this undermined his authority in a country which was difficult enough to rule as it was, and on 8 December wrote to Napoleon renouncing his rights to the throne of Spain.24
Napoleon did not reply for ten days, when he sent him a short note concerning finances, and a few days later a flurry of instructions through Berthier. He found time to write to Josephine frequently, mainly short affectionate notes assuring her that he was well, that his affairs were going splendidly and that she should not worry. In one, he discussed the wisdom of Hortense dismissing members of her domestic staff. He wrote to Fouché saying the Spaniards were not ‘wicked’ and the British only a minor irritant. He had a young virgin procured for himself, but according to his valet Constant she wore too much scent for his keen sense of smell, so he sent her away untouched – having paid her.25
He issued decrees and orders for the administration of the kingdom as though Joseph did not exist, abolishing feudalism and the Inquisition, closing down convents and confiscating as much property as he could to pay for his campaign. He also attended to the administration of the empire, going into details and checking figures, and specifying, for instance, what quantities of quinine should be distributed to the health services of each of the empire’s forty-two major cities.26
He reviewed the main body of his army, and on 22 December set off to confront Moore, hoping to at last have an opportunity of fighting his British enemy in the field. ‘The weather is fine, my health is perfect, do not fret,’ he wrote to Josephine before leaving. The weather changed dramatically not long after he set off, and his march over the Sierra de Guadarrama in sleet and snow proved an ordeal for the troops, which not only grumbled but in some cases actually showed their feelings by shooting at him as he passed. He thought it best to ignore the incidents and pressed on, hoping that a battle would restore morale.27
Moore retreated, making for the port of La Coruña, where the Royal Navy could evacuate his force, with Napoleon in pu
rsuit. But on the evening of 1 January 1809, halfway between Benavente and Astorga, Napoleon was informed that an estafette from Paris was trying to reach him, so he stopped and waited by the roadside until it arrived. When he had read the despatches, his mood grew sombre and he proceeded to Astorga in silence. Those around him noted with surprise that the urge to catch up with Moore at all costs had left him. After spending a day at Astorga and handing over command to Soult, he went back to Benavente and thence to Valladolid. The despatches confirmed that Austrian rearmament was proceeding fast, but that was not what troubled him.
He was aware that there was much discontent in France. At Bayonne in June he had been notified of an inept conspiracy involving a General Malet which had been uncovered and the plotters imprisoned. Bailén had emboldened his critics in the Senate and the Legislative, but he knew he only had to crack the whip to silence them. A slip made by Josephine while receiving a delegation of the Legislative, addressing them as the representatives of the nation, had annoyed him, but it had also given him his cue; he gave instructions for Le Moniteur to carry a notice explaining that her speech must have been wrongly reported, since she was too well-versed not to know that ‘In the order of our constitutional hierarchy, the prime representative of the nation is the emperor, and the ministers, who are organs of his decisions.’ Now he was informed of what looked like an altogether more sinister machination – by two of his closest associates.28
During a reception given by Talleyrand on 20 December, just as the guests had assembled, the usher announced the minister of police. It was no secret that Talleyrand and Fouché loathed each other and were seen under the same roof only when official functions required it, yet here was Talleyrand eagerly hobbling forward to greet the new arrival and then taking him, arm in arm, through the reception rooms for all to see, deep in conversation. News that two of the most consummate practitioners of the political pirouette had combined flew round Paris, and reached the emperor at Astorga.29
What also reached him, thanks to postal intercepts by Lavalette, was an idea of what they were up to. With alarming reports of the exceptionally savage nature of the war in Spain reaching Paris, the possibility of Napoleon being killed had resurfaced, and this had drawn together the two men most concerned at the possible consequences for themselves. Both had for some time been in close touch with his sister Caroline, and were now preparing a contingency plan to put Murat on the throne if Napoleon were killed. Lavalette had passed the incriminating letters from Murat on to Napoleon.30
His exasperation showed. When he heard soldiers of the Old Guard grumbling about conditions in Spain, he made a scene on parade, accusing them of laziness and of just wanting to get back to their whores in Paris. All officers passing through the town were obliged to call on him, and when one day General Legendre, who had been Dupont’s chief of staff and signed the capitulation of Bailén, presented himself, he vented his fury on the man. He accused him of cowardice, of having defiled the honour of France, called the capitulation a crime as well as a crass show of ineptitude, and said the hand with which he had signed it should have withered. In a letter to Josephine on 9 January he urged her not to fret, but to be prepared to see him appear unexpectedly at any moment. A week later he raced back to Paris, at one stage covering 120 kilometres on horseback in five hours.31
He reached Paris at eight o’clock on the morning of 23 January. That afternoon he visited the works on the Louvre and the rue de Rivoli, over the following days he received the diplomatic corps, went to the opera and, on 27 January, wrote to Talleyrand instructing him to hand his key of grand chamberlain over to Duroc. Talleyrand complied, and wrote Napoleon a letter brimming with sweetness and submission, expressing the extreme pain with which he had done so: ‘My only consolation is to remain tied to Your Majesty by two sentiments which no amount of pain could overcome or weaken, by a feeling of gratitude and of devotion which will end only with my life.’32
29 January was a Sunday, and after the usual parade, Napoleon held a privy council attended by Cambacérès, Lebrun, Gaudin, Fouché, Admiral Decrès and Talleyrand. Towards the end of the meeting he suddenly grew agitated and, turning to Talleyrand, who was leaning against a console, unleashed his fury. ‘You’re a thief, a coward, a faithless, godless creature; you have throughout your life failed in all your duties, you have deceived and betrayed everyone; nothing is sacred to you; you would sell your own father,’ he ranted, pacing the room while Talleyrand remained perfectly still in his nonchalant pose, ‘pale as death’ according to one witness, his eyes half-closed. ‘You, sir, are nothing but a pile of shit in silk stockings!’ Napoleon concluded. Although he remained superciliously calm as he left the room, Talleyrand said quietly to grand master of ceremonies Ségur, who was just entering, ‘There are some things one can never forgive.’ And later he added, ‘What a shame that such a great man should be so ill-bred.’ He informed Metternich that he now felt free to act in the common cause. No doubt not wishing to give the impression of instability, Napoleon left Talleyrand with his rank of vice-grand elector. He did not penalise Fouché, whom he still needed, particularly as it was by now certain that he would have to go to war.33
This was a war for which neither Napoleon nor France had any appetite. It also elicited little enthusiasm outside Austria, which was getting nowhere in its search for allies. Russia was opposed to it and Prussia fearful, as were most of the German states, however much they may have resented French dominance. Even Britain was only prepared to come up with a meagre subsidy. But Austria was eager to wipe out its humiliations of Ulm and Austerlitz. And despite the lack of interest in Germany, for the first time in its history the Habsburg monarchy was going to play the German national card. A powerful influence was the Emperor Francis’s third wife, Maria Ludovica, a German nationalist with a hatred of all things French, whom he had married in January 1808. Another was the chief minister, Count Johann Philipp Stadion, who encouraged nationalist propaganda through the press and government-sponsored pamphlets, in which the coming war was represented as one of liberation and parallels were drawn with that raging in Spain.34
The thirty-seven-year-old Archduke Charles had been reorganising the army, introducing conscription and giving it a more national character. In March 1809 he appointed the nationalist writer Friedrich Schlegel as his military secretary. His brother Archduke John also struck a national note, declaring himself to be ‘German, heart and soul’. By the spring of 1809 Austria had mustered around 300,000 men. A force of 30,000 was deployed in Galicia under Archduke Ferdinand to check the Polish forces in the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and deter the Russians from supporting their French allies. Another 50,000 under Archduke John were poised to stop a French move out of Italy. The main army of nearly 200,000 under Archduke Charles invaded France’s ally Bavaria on 10 April and entered Munich. This coincided with a planned insurrection in the Tyrol led by the partisan Andreas Hofer which forced the French and Bavarian troops stationed there to capitulate. The Austrian advance was accompanied by an appeal to the people of Germany to rise. It was answered by a Prussian officer, Major Schill, who led his regiment out to attack Westphalia, and by the Hessian Colonel Dornberg, an officer in Westphalian service who sallied forth at the head of 6,000 men to raise a general rebellion. With his main forces tied down in Spain, Napoleon could only muster 100,000 French troops, along with a total of 150,000 less reliable and certainly less motivated men supplied by his various allies. As soon as news came on the telegraph that the Austrians had invaded Bavaria, he went into action.35
Although he still moved fast, travelling at all hours of the day and night, Napoleon had introduced a modicum of comfort into his campaigning, as his age no longer permitted subjecting himself to the rigours of sleeping out in all weathers and going without food. His travelling carriage was equipped with every comfort, and he kept adding resources. He loved nécessaires of one sort or another, cases containing every conceivable utensil required for their purpose, be it washing or writing. He was f
ollowed or preceded by fourteen wagons and a train of mules bearing a set of five tents of blue-and-white-striped ticking – two of them, his bedroom and study, private; the other three also used by his staff. The wagons also carried everything else he might need, from spare uniforms and linen to dining silver and a supply of Chambertin. Closer to hand, one of his pages carried a telescope and another maps, which Napoleon would spread out on a table, or sometimes on the ground, and lie down on it, pincushion in hand, then stand up, surveying the picture and dictating orders briskly. His Mameluke was always in attendance, as was a small group of orderlies, officiers d’ordonnance, some of them civilians, dressed originally in green and later pale-blue uniforms. Not far behind was a supply of spare horses, mostly Arabs. He was always escorted by a couple of dozen mounted chasseurs or chevau-légers of the Guard, while Berthier and the general staff were escorted by his own guards from his principality of Neuchâtel, uniformed in bright Serin yellow. Napoleon always seemed at his happiest when on campaign, spending much of the day in the saddle, surrounded by his staff and cheered by his troops, whom he would stop and talk to. The exercise invigorated him, and his high spirits were contagious. When he paused for something to eat, a picnic would be deftly spread out by his maison militaire and all would share. ‘It was really a party for all of us,’ recalled his prefect of the palace Bausset.36
In a series of three engagements between 19 and 21 April he tried to encircle part of the Austrian army, eventually scoring successes at Eckmühl and Ratisbon (Regensburg). He would later claim that Eckmühl was one of his finest manoeuvres, but these were not the victories he had been used to. The Austrians had learned to move and fight well, and retreated in good order. Riding over the battlefields, Napoleon was unpleasantly struck by the carnage involved in achieving victory. He had himself been lightly wounded in the foot by a spent musketball at Ratisbon. In his proclamation issued after the battle, he praised his troops for having once more demonstrated ‘the contrast between the soldiers of Caesar and the rabble of Xerxes’, and listed fictitious numbers of guns, standards and prisoners taken. To Cambacérès he wrote that it had been a finer victory than Jena. Few were fooled. Cambacérès replied that everyone was delighted by the news of the victories. ‘Yet, Sire, in the middle of the general happiness your people are greatly alarmed at the dangers to which you expose yourself,’ he wrote on 3 May.37
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