by Alan Schom
The reaction of Napoleon’s opponents was swift and dramatic, even before the Milan coronation. Russia signed a military alliance with England in April 1805, calling for the restoration of “peace in Europe” and binding Britain and Russia in a new Third Coalition — William Pitt’s “last grand work” — against this rampaging France. This was joined by Sweden and Austria that August. (And six months earlier Russia and Austria had framed a secret defense pact whereby both would make war on Napoleon if he committed any new aggression in Italy or menaced the Turkish Empire.) Britain, pushed by Napoleon’s seizure of British Hannover and of course by the threat of a sweeping invasion, had acted vigorously to create this new allied coalition. Although it could not spare a single man with its own shores still menaced by the army across the Channel, it did agree to pay substantial subsidies to cover mobilization costs of the Allied armies, while deploying the Royal Navy in the Baltic as well. An exasperated Austria had in fact at last joined the full coalition only after Napoleon’s had seized the ancient Lombard crown in Milan’s Duomo that May, followed by the annexation of the Ligurian, or Genoese, Republic on June 4.
Basically Austria, Russia, Sweden, and Great Britain wanted the immediate evacuation of Hannover, Holland, Belgium, and Italy (the king of Sardinia demanding the return of his northern lands), and then they needed a means of preventing any further aggression by Napoleon and the French army. “This man is insatiable,” Czar Alexander had exclaimed that summer on receiving word of the events in Italy. “His ambition knows no bounds; he is the scourge of the world. He wants war, does he? Very well, he shall have it, and the sooner the better.”[644]
Napoleon now discovered that he had been too effective in fomenting alarm and precipitating the next campaign. Ironically he now found himself in a harrowing situation. As late as mid-August 1805 he had still been in Boulogne awaiting the arrival from America of Villeneuve’s sprawling Franco-Spanish fleet, scheduled to confront Cornwallis’s Channel fleet off Ushant and then escort the invasion force to English shores. Napoleon had been boasting so long of his invasion and the destruction of “the perfidious English” that he could hardly back down with the arrival of the combined fleet. It had been humiliating enough duirng the past year just waiting for it to appear and for the invasion to take place. If he declined to execute it now, he would become the laughingstock of Europe.
On the other hand, the growing anger of his European neighbors could hardly be ignored. If they were to march westward into France, as intelligence reports and spies now suggested they would, with the arrival of Villeneuve and the launching of the invasion of England with the entire Grande Armée, France would be utterly defenseless, quickly overrun, and Napoleon no doubt deposed. For all his vaunted machinations, somehow he had greatly miscalculated this, perhaps thinking that he could execute his invasion and complete it earlier, within just a few months, but even that seemed far-fetched, given his recent overt annexations.
Thus, when by August 29 there was still no word from, or sign of, Villeneuve, Bonaparte ordered the flotilla into mothballs and his troops to march. In fact it was not until September 2 that Naval Minister Decrès received word that instead of sailing north to Boulogne as ordered, Villeneuve had fled south to Cadiz.[645] It was no doubt with very mixed feelings that Napoleon watched his mighty expeditionary force move east and not west. And yet, with several hundred thousand troops reportedly about to march on France’s frontiers, he hardly had time to reflect on the nearly catastrophic predicament he had gotten himself and France into — and for which he alone was responsible.
The crisis could not have come at a worse possible time. Through his channeling of most of the nation’s financial resources for the past two years into the creation of the massive invasion force at Boulogne, and his failure to pay in full many of the contractors building boats and supplying his navy and army — not to mention his equal failure to repay some bank loans — Napoleon had caused growing concern and anxiety in business and financial circles. The extent of the large forced loans Napoleon had demanded, in France and in neighboring countries, was well known to the major financiers in Paris. Furthermore, these same financial and commercial circles, which had at first welcomed with outstretched hands Napoleon’s coup, for bringing to an end the corruption, instability, and destruction of most French commercial life, culminating in the restoration of European peace, had then been distinctly disturbed by the unnecessary rupture of the Amiens accords and the resumption of war with Britain, whose fleets controlled the seas, thereby greatly curtailing their own Continental and overseas transactions. What is more the French treasury, despite the flow of foreign gold into its coffers, was barely in the black, with only eighteen million francs left by the end of summer. Should war now expand to include campaigns against the Allies — Austria and Russia in particular — commerce and banking would be further restricted, while greater demands would be made on them to meet Napoleon’s needs for the supplying of an army at a time when he had not yet repaid his past debts. And then there was the matter of French army pay, many months in arrears, which would have to be brought up to date if Napoleon expected to receive his soldiers’ full support in the field.[646]
In brief, by August 1805 Napoleon and his new imperial government had no more credit at home or abroad. No one in his right mind wanted to end up like the bankers who had financed him so heavily thus far, only to find themselves still pleading for repayment and even harassed by the police and threatened with arrest when they did so. Napoleon’s verbal attacks were the talk of the Stock Exchange, no banker envying the fate of Collot, Vanderberghe, Desprès, or Ouvrard, for instance, forced to “repay” the government tens of millions, and facing long sentences of imprisonment.
This was a crisis of enormous proportions. Napoleon faced not only a possible British retaliatory landing along the Channel but a looming financial disaster at home at a time when he needed to tap extraordinary new resources for the military. Panic was already setting in, as both Finance Minister Gaudin and Archchancellor Cambacérès warned him.
Napoleon also confronted a self-inflicted ultimatum. Either he was to begin immediate negotiations with England, Austria, and Russia to defuse the explosive international situation and restore a lasting peace in Europe (and thus withdraw all French troops occupying Holland, Belgium, the west bank of the Rhine, Switzerland, and Italy); cancel his fleet instructions for the invasion of England, order his Grande Armée to stand down, and repay the hundreds of millions of francs he owed banks and businesses in several countries; or he had to carry out a lightning attack on the approaching Austrian and Russian armies threatening France, and quickly, decisively defeat them and restore a redefined peace the hard way. In any event, one thing was certainly clear: The French people were insistent on peace, now. If he was to wage war, it would have to be brief and brilliant.
On August 26, even before learning of Villeneuve’s treasonous disobedience of orders, Napoleon reluctantly gave up the idea of invading England. On the twenty-ninth he ordered the three principal army corps at Montreuil, St.-Omer, and Bruges to break camp and march east — to the Rhine. “I must tell you in the strictest confidence,” he informed Cambacérès on September 1, “that there is not a single man left at Boulogne, apart from those few needed for the defense of the port.”
Napoleon had again unilaterally rejected the idea of arriving at a peaceful solution; therefore there could only be war. This was one of the watersheds that were to alter his entire career, condemning France and himself to inevitable ruin.
Back at St.-Cloud on September 5, he found the French capital most anxious about the international situation. A few days later, learning that the Austrians had already crossed the Inn, heading for Munich, Napoleon set to work in earnest, drafting his campaign plans. In conference with Chief of Staff Berthier, he issued a complex series of marching orders for seven separate army corps, for the distribution of garrisons and the establishment of supply depots by the general commissary of army stores. T
he French army, totaling 210,500 men, was mobilized, including 29,500 cavalry and 396 cannon but excluding Masséna’s Army of Italy. Top-secret orders went out to the corps commanders by special courier to launch operations and cross the Rhine on October 2-3.[647]
After nearly three intensive weeks of work, all was in readiness. On September 23 Napoleon drove over to the Luxembourg Palace to address the Senate and the nation. “The Emperor,” he began, in the third person,
forced to repulse an unjust aggression against us [by Austria, Russia, England, and Sweden] that he has in vain attempted to prevent, has had to suspend the execution of his original plans [for the invasion of England]. He...will be marching at the head of his troops and will put down his arms only after having obtained full and complete satisfaction, and after having achieved complete security for his own states as well as those of our allies.
He closed with an affirmative “I promise you victory and a prompt return to peace.[648]
On the eve of what was obviously to be another major war, Josephine — who had belatedly learned the error of not joining her husband when he was campaigning — insisted on his taking her with him. She had paid an extremely heavy price to secure the new crown on her head — her beloved daughter’s welfare and happiness — and was not about to forgo whatever it took to ensure that she remain Madame Bonaparte, though now she probably felt less in love with him and more fearful of his growing tyranny.[649]
Thus it was that when Napoleon set out on September 24 in his famous post chaise and staff to join his army along the Rhine, Josephine was at his side. They reached Strasbourg on the twenty-sixth and remained there till the end of the month. On October 1, dining with Josephine, his first chamberlain, the comte de Rémusat, and Foreign Secretary Talleyrand — and while holding Josephine in his arms, bidding her adieu for the unknown — Napoleon collapsed in a serious epileptic fit. The tension over the past few weeks had been too much for him; his entire empire was at stake. If his decision now was wrong...Falling to the ground, his body racked by convulsions, he vomited and gagged, fighting for breath, foam covering his lips. Josephine, who had witnessed earlier attacks over the years, was seriously alarmed but not so panicked as were the startled Talleyrand and Rémusat. For perhaps the first time in his life, Talleyrand was truly terrified. He had heard rumors of Napoleon’s epilepsy, but this was the first time he had witnessed such an attack. Josephine had hushed up similar past seizures, silencing servants and friends alike with promises and gold. But gold could not prevent Talleyrand’s horror now. He realized just how fragile was this new French empire. Quickly limping over to Napoleon, who lay on the floor in convulsions, Talleyrand removed his cravat, pouring out eau de cologne handed him by Josephine, and as Napoleon’s breathing gradually returned to normal, his and Rémusat’s relief was only too apparent. The attack lasted a quarter of an hour, longer than any of its predecessors. On recovering, with a stiff brandy, Napoleon got to his feet, and after enjoining all present to total secrecy about what had just transpired, ordered his post chaise and set out alone in the night for Karlsruhe and the gathering Grande Armée.[650]
Bonaparte could silence his foreign minister and first chamberlain, but he could do nothing to quell the growing panic in the newly constructed Bourse, or Stock Exchange. As money grew scarce, trading in stocks and shares uncertain, securities and rentes dropping precipitously, accompanied by frightening rumors of collapse of the entire French financial structure, the inevitable run on the franc began.
The first serious signs of looming disaster had appeared as early as June 10, 1805, with the collapse of the largest foreign-exchange dealer in Paris, Fould. Rumors of political uncertainty and perhaps of another war naturally had created unease in the French money markets. “There is little activity at the Stock Exchange,” Cambacérès informed Napoleon at Boulogne on August 27. “Money is becoming more and more scarce.”[651] This was followed by the archchancellor’s letters of September 28 and 29, which had reached Napoleon at Strasbourg before dinner on October 1, informing him that the situation in Paris was becoming more worrisome, rumor spreading like wildfire that the regents of the Banque de France were without reserves and withdrawing currency from circulation. Anxious crowds were growing outside the bank, attempting to withdraw their investments in government securities. Rumor also had it that the Banque de France was discounting some of its paper while severely limiting reimbursements to individual investors to the bare minimum of a few hundred francs each. This in turn engendered greater panic. Talk of the numbers required for the year’s forthcoming conscription — eighty thousand, more than twice the normal — caused further anxiety, compounded by false whispers to the effect that the bank was annulling notes already held by the public. Echoes of similar situations had reverberated throughout Paris during the Revolution. “Such a measure would be disastrous,” an anxious Cambacérès confided. “It would ruin commerce and leave Your Majesty’s government without funds.” The same day Napoleon had received this information, he had collapsed.[652]
In fact the Banque de France, with just a few million francs left in its coffers (though it was required to keep hundreds of millions), had indeed issued orders to invalidate notes when it was unable to borrow money from other sources, but it was now forced “to modify” measures to do this and withdraw currency on Napoleon’s special orders. But when these negative reports were suddenly seasoned by the rumor of forthcoming peace talks early in October, the run on the Banque de France eased. Talk of victory in the field and the taking of Ulm (not in fact accomplished until October 19) momentarily calmed the Bourse. “The triumph of Your Majesty’s armies has rendered the emergency meeting of shareholders of the Bank much calmer than it would have been in the event of military reverses,” Cambacérès warned him. “Money is beginning to circulate again; yesterday the crowds at the bank were smaller.”[653] But when signs neither of peace nor of decisive victories were confirmed that autumn, the unsettling rumors resumed, as persons bearing letters of exchange balked at receiving payment in the bank’s freshly printed paper notes. “The crisis will pass,” the archchancellor tried to reassure Napoleon.
By the beginning of November, however, the run on the franc resumed at an alarming rate. “Ill will continues to undermine the Bank,” Cambacérès complained after news of the greatest French naval defeat in history, at Trafalgar, reached Paris. “The crowds at the Bank continue to grow. They are having trouble maintaining order there...Cash, which was already scarce, is becoming more so daily, and the value of government paper continues to plunge.” Cambacérès wrote on November 7. “The situation in Paris is becoming disquieting.” Two days later soldiers were called in to keep angry investors and shareholders in order. “The troops can barely control the bearer of notes demanding payment,” he echoed.
When Napoleon ordered his brother Louis to remove those very troops from Paris, “to defend Antwerp” from a possible landing of “Russians and Swedes,” the usually easygoing Cambacérès was in a real flap, bewailing that “the Police Minister can no longer answer for the safety of the capital.” Napoleon had to produce one of his celebrated military miracles pretty quickly, if all mayhem was not to break out in the French capital. Or, as Cambacérès put it, “If the circumstances become such, and Your Majesty then also strips Paris of the few remaining troops, disorders must almost inevitably ensue.”
Despite Napoleon’s victory at Ulm, on October 17-20, and the triumphant entry of French troops into Vienna on November 14, uncertainty, rumor, and panic continued in Paris. By November 19 Cambacérès was forced to notify Napoleon of two new banking disasters as momentous as any victory in the field: the failure of the Swiss Deville Bank and, even more important, the collapse of the prestigious Récamier Bank, reportedly with losses of up to thirty million francs, in which many ministers, government officials, and general officers now in the field with Napoleon — and perhaps Joseph Bonaparte himself — had invested their savings. What was worse, when Récamier had asked for an em
ergency loan of a mere one million francs, the hard-pressed government had been forced to decline. The fall of the House of Récamier led to a chain of subsequent bankruptcies, including four of the most powerful merchants in the capital.[654]
On November 20 an angry imperial highness, Prince Joseph Bonaparte, acting head of the government in Napoleon’s absence, called an emergency meeting with Treasury Minister Barbé-Marbois regarding the collapse of most public services. “The Treasury Minister stressed the difficulty in assuring various public services...At the same time, however, the present [military and financial] circumstances require extraordinary government expenses.” Napoleon’s irresponsible diversion of every franc from the treasury for the invasion of England was now forcing France to pay the full price. “I cannot pretend to disguise from you, sire, that this meeting...has been truly painful,” the usually optimistic and diplomatic Cambacérès said. “It is feared that the [financial] damage done [to France and the economy] will be long and difficult to heal.”[655]
By November, so little cash was available and in circulation that everyone, at every level of society, was affected, with the director of hospices for the poor tendering his resignation after being forced to pay for his department’s services out of his own pocket. Perhaps most dramatically for the French emperor-general and his Grande Armée, Gen. Jean-François Dejean at the War Ministry was no longer able to purchase forage for Murat’s cavalry. Then came the unbelievable news that major merchants of Paris, Lyons, and Geneva, now in a panic, were secretly channeling their funds to England (the Switzerland of the nineteenth century) — the enemy — for safekeeping. If this news got out, all would be lost.