In actual fact, at this particular time General Mack was indulging in an orgy of false optimism. An Austrian agent had reported that he had overheard a lunchtime conversation in a village on the French communications during which rumors of a British invasion at Boulogne were mentioned. This piece of unfounded gossip appealed to the Austrian general and appeared to throw the whole situation on the Danube into a more favorable light: “If the enemy wished to secure Ulm, the right bank was certainly not the side from which to approach it, since the town itself lies entirely on the left bank. If he meant to invest it, then he required to be at least in equal strength on both banks…. But he had withdrawn practically all his strength from the left side … and was approaching by several roads on the south. This gave me the impression of a retreat rather than of an advance; for an army of the Lech, wishing to retire on the Rhine and knowing Ulm to be held by an enemy, would have acted in no other manner. The news brought me by Baron Steinherr, a credible witness, of the conversation he had overheard, coincided so well with the opinions I had already formed on the facts before me, that I allowed myself to accept it as correct.”8 Acting on this fallacious conviction, Mack announced to his men that the French were now in full retreat for the Rhine, moving in three columns, and he ordered each part of his command to prepare flying columns to pursue and harry the enemy. The victim was fairly in the trap.
Mack was indeed in a fool’s paradise; in the following days, the French moves against Ulm proceeded apace. Murat and Lannes advanced in close concert with Ney, linked by the bridge at Dillingen. The first sharp skirmish of the campaign took place on the 8th at Wertingen, when the dragoons of the advance guard brushed with an Austrian force of 9 battalions and one squadron; by the day’s close, Murat and Lannes had taken 2,000 prisoners and virtually destroyed the enemy. On the southern axis of advance, Soult was making good progress towards Landsberg, while away to the east, Davout had reached Dachau, and by the evening of the 11th, Bernadotte was within six miles of Munich. Napoleon remained at Augsburg, waiting for news of Kutusov, and hourly expecting tidings of a clash with Mack on the opposite flank. On the 11th, writing to Murat, whom he had placed in temporary command of the forces moving on Ulm, the Emperor stressed the importance of keeping his force concentrated: “The enemy, harassed as he is, will fight,” Napoleon prophesied, estimating Mack’s present strength at 40,000. “It is therefore imperative that your reserve and the corps of Ney and Lannes, which together make some 50-60,000 men, should march as closely together as possible, so as to be able to reunite within the space of six hours in order to crush the enemy.”9 He further urged his subordinates to press on with all speed to effect Mack’s destruction before the Russians could arrive on the River Isar.
The very day that his message was prepared and despatched, a crisis took place on the north bank of the Danube which almost involved the destruction of General Dupont’s division. Anticipating the Emperor’s orders, Murat was moving rapidly toward Ulm along the south bank, and being eager to concentrate his force, he ordered Ney to move over the river with two of his three divisions to rejoin the main body in the belief that Mack’s army was still all to its front. Ney complied with some misgivings, for he realized that his remaining divisional commander, Dupont, would be left very exposed on the north bank with only Baraguey d’Hilliers’ 4,000 dragoons within close supporting distance. These doubts proved well-founded, for to his consternation Dupont suddenly found himself facing 25,000 Austrians—of whom no less than 10,000 were cavalry—to the east of the Michelsberg Heights the very same day. Unknown to Murat, Mack had been so discouraged by the outcome of the Wertingen combat that he had withdrawn all his army into Ulm and the camp beyond, abandoning the tentative advance toward Gunzburg along the south bank which he had originally ordered on the 8th. So it was that Dupont found himself engaged in an apparently hopeless battle as the Austrians probed eastward along the north bank, hoping to sever the French communications. Retreat was impossible in view of the enemy’s superiority in cavalry, and so, in the best traditions of the French army, Dupont ordered an attack. For a whole day 4,000 Frenchmen fought off their massively superior foes around the village of Albeck,* and as dusk fell, Dupont found himself able to retreat toward Brenz. The Austrians, meanwhile, fell back into Ulm, intending to renew their breakout attempt the next day. Mack and Ferdinand had somehow missed an excellent opportunity of winning a tactical victory which might well have provided them with an escape route along the north bank of the river, severing Napoleon’s communications as they marched toward Ratisbon to effect the desired rendezvous with Kutusov and his Russian forces.
The repercussions of this affair spread far beyond Dupont’s division. Ney was open to severe criticism for leaving his subordinate so isolated, but at least he could plead superior orders, and in consequence the main blame must lie with Murat. Ney had remonstrated with Murat on the morning of the 11th about the advisability of the proposed moves, but had been publicly snubbed with the words, “I know nothing of plans except those made in the face of the enemy.” From this incident dates the fierce hatred that dogged relations between the two marshals. The Emperor certainly placed the onus of blame on Murat when he heard what had taken place; it earned Murat the first of a series of crushing reprimands.
If Murat’s erratic actions gave some cause for alarm about the western situation, Napoleon was soon reassured about the position on his eastern flank. Bernadotte reported on the 12th that Kutusov was still 180 miles away, and this made it possible for Napoleon to turn all his attention against Mack. The Emperor thereupon planned a battle to be fought near the River Iller on the 14th, and sent out orders for his troops to converge on that point.
The plan closely resembles the outline of both the battles of Castiglione and Marengo. Soult was to advance from Landsberg in the outflanking role that had been played by Sérurier and Desaix respectively on the earlier occasions, while Napoleon joined Murat, Lannes and Ney with the Guard and Davout’s corps from Augsburg to form the force applying direct pressure. The Austrians were to be eliminated: “Not one is to escape,”10 wrote the Emperor. All day the troops moved steadily westward; the Emperor’s cortége soon caught up with the tail of Davout’s flagging columns, and to cheer on the fatigued men Napoleon addressed each formation in turn as he moved up the road, taking them into his confidence by explaining what he was trying to do. It was a calculated act of man-management, and it had the desired effect of raising morale and generally improving the standard of discipline. In both respects there was undoubtedly room for improvement. “It must be admitted,” wrote de Ségur, “that from Gunzburg to Pfaffenhoffen the army presented an aspect of the greatest disorder; the roads, which were full of ruts, were strewn with our Alsatian wagons stuck fast in the mire, with their drivers at their wits’ end, and with fallen horses dying of hunger and fatigue. Our soldiers were rushing right and left, helter-skelter across the fields; some looking for food, others using their cartridges shooting the game with which these plains abound. Hearing all this firing and the whistle of bullets, one might have fancied one’s self at the advance posts, and one ran quite as great a risk.”11
By the morning of the 13th the Emperor was near Ulm. Receiving firsthand accounts from Dupont and Ney of the strength of the enemy on the north bank of the Danube, Napoleon realized that the proposed Battle of the River Iller would never take place. He had entirely miscalculated Mack’s reaction, but with typical flexibility the Emperor lost no time in ordering new dispositions. Murat and Ney were forthwith instructed to move north of the river to Dupont’s relief. Several combats took place on the 14th. Moving to cross the Danube at Elchingen, Ney found the bridge partially demolished and defended by 9,000 Austrians. With great gallantry, Ney personally supervised the repair of the crossing under heavy fire, and then led forward his men to storm the town beyond, capturing in the process two enemy regiments. This exploit in due course earned the Marshal the title of Duke of Elchingen. The same day, the combat of Albeck was ren
ewed, but Murat led his troops over Ney’s bridge and joined Dupont in the very nick of time to beat off a new attack by General Werneck’s corps and together they drove the Austrians away to the north in the direction of Heidenheim. Thus by nightfall on the 14th, two corps were concentrated opposite the Michelsberg encampments. Mack’s position was now definitely critical; there was no longer any chance of a general escape along the north bank; Marmont and the Guard were almost in the outskirts of Ulm to the south of the river, and Soult was steadily moving up the west bank of the Iller from Memmingen—blocking all chance of a breakout toward the Tyrol.
The worsening situation had already caused a furious altercation at Austrian headquarters. Mack was in favor of keeping the army united at all costs, but the Archduke Ferdinand roughly overrode his nominal chief of staff and ordered the immediate evacuation of the cavalry from Ulm. In due course some 6,000 troopers broke out accompanied by the Archduke, but Murat’s pursuit was so ferociously well-executed that only 11 squadrons succeeded in joining Werneck at Heidenheim. Nor did this force survive long: on the 19th General Werneck was compelled to surrender with 8,000 men at Trochtelfingten; Murat also took possession of the entire Austrian field park, totaling 500 vehicles. Pressing on from this success, Murat swept on to Neustadt and there forced 12,000 more Austrians to lay down their arms, including in his bag on this occasion seven generals, 200 officers, the military chest and 120 guns.
Away on the Danube, events were fast reaching their climax. On October 15, Marshal Ney successfully stormed the Michelsberg defenses, and the following day Napoleon ordered the artillery to open a bombardment of the city of Ulm itself. However, there was little fight left in General Mack; ever since the battle of Albeck the morale of his garrison had sunk lower and lower, and in consequence he decided to apply for an eight-day armistice in the hope that Russian aid might arrive in time to extricate his army from its hopeless situation. Napoleon was at first only prepared to allow a five-day suspension, but in the end, the Emperor’s emissary, de Ségur, signed a convention with General Mack on the 17th whereby the Austrians agreed to surrender on the 25th if no assistance had materialized by that date. Mack considered the concession a diplomatic triumph, but the Emperor was aware, (and Mack was not) that Kutusov was still over 100 miles away, and therefore out of supporting distance.
Little by little, the complete hopelessness of his position dawned upon Mack; the last straw was the news of the capitulations at Heidenheim and Neresheim, and the Austrian commander thereupon faced up to the apparently inevitable and raised the white flag five days ahead of schedule on October 20. Of his garrison, some 10,000 made good their escape, but next day the remainder trooped out to pile their arms at the foot of the Michelsberg Heights under the watchful eyes of the Grande Arrnée, drawn up in a vast semicircle to observe the capitulation. The Emperor stood with his back to a vast bonfire—singeing his coattails—as 25,000 Austrian infantry and 2,000 cavalry filed past him, among them the Austrian general. One colorful tale asserts that this officer introduced himself to his conqueror with the words, “Sire, here is the unhappy General Mack,” but de Ségur claims that these words were in fact spoken to a subordinate French officer who did not know the Austrian commander by sight. Meanwhile, the Emperor maintained a ceaseless tirade against British intrigue and corrupting gold for the benefit of the discomfited Austrians making their way past him; it was clear that England still figured prominently in his thoughts. Well it might, for the very same day that the Emperor was receiving the surrender of Ulm, a great naval battle was in progress off Cape Trafalgar, and by nightfall on October 21 the Franco-Spanish fleet of Admiral Villeneuve had virtually ceased to exist. Napoleon might be on the way to becoming the master of the Continent, but his most determined foe was henceforward undisputed master of the seas, and Britain’s shores were consequently safe from the threat of invasion.
“The unhappy General Mack” who surrendered at Ulm, 1805. A water color portrait painted by a British officer (date uncertain) “at his own table in a dinner party.”
Nevertheless, Napoleon had achieved a great victory on the Danube, and although six weeks later it was to be overshadowed by an even greater triumph, the magnitude of the capitulation of Ulm must be acknowledged. The 8th bulletin of the Grande Armée evaluated the success as follows: “Thirty thousand men, among them 2,000 cavalry, together with 60 guns and 40 standards have fallen into the hands of the victors…. Since the beginning of the war, the total number of prisoners taken can be evaluated at 60,000, the number of standards at 80 without listing the artillery or baggage trains…. Never have victories been so complete and less costly.”12 Marshal Augereau with the newly arrived VIIth Corps from Brest was to put the final touch to the victory by destroying General Jellacic’s division to the south of Kempten on the River Iller. It was an amazing achievement when it is remembered that the campaign was only twenty-six days old—a triumph for Napoleon’s system of la manoeuvre sur les derrières. Mack was strategically defeated from the moment Napoleon reached the Danube. The demoralization consequent upon discovering a powerful enemy on his rear had played a decisive part in paralyzing the victim, while the deficiencies of the Austrian system of command and their fatal miscalculations concerning the proximity of their Russian allies had made the catastrophe practically inevitable.
I.e., 1805; the revolutionary calendar was still in use and calculated the years from the establishment of the First Republic in September 1792.
Sometimes also known as the Combat of Haslach.
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THE WARRIORS OF HOLY RUSSIA
Mack safely disposed of, the first object of the campaign accomplished, Napoleon was now free to turn all his energies against the approaching Kutusov. “We are not stopping here,” wrote the Emperor from Ulm. Indeed, the French could not afford to linger on the Upper Danube. Apart from Kutusov’s 36,000 troops who reached Braunau on October 23 to link up with 22,000 Austrians, there were no less than four other forces to be taken into account: Buxhowden, with 30,000, was already in Moravia; Bennigsen, with another host, was fast approaching the Austrian northern frontier; the Archduke John still controlled almost 20,000 men in the Tyrol, while his brother Ferdinand was rallying the few survivors of Mack’s command in Bohemia (perhaps 8,000); lastly, Archduke Charles, after fighting a drawn battle with Massena at Second Caldiero, was believed to be withdrawing by slow stages toward the Alps and Vienna. In addition to these hostile forces already in the field, it was now distinctly likely that Prussia would at last throw in her lot with the Allies. Tsar Alexander had visited Frederick William III at Berlin on October 25 and persuaded the dilatory monarch into signing the Treaty of Potsdam, whereby Prussia promised to undertake “armed mediation” in the war by early December at the latest. Bernadotte’s insolent violation of Ansbach was the most immediate cause of this change of policy but the Prussians were still in fact committed to playing a waiting game. In practical terms this meant that perhaps 200,000 more troops might soon be available for operations against the already tiring Grande Armée. Thus twelve short weeks might see 400,000 soldiers converging on the Danube, and it was therefore vitally important that Napoleon should move first to ensure that his foes remained divided, enabling him to deal with them one by one under comparatively favorable conditions.
To disengage his flanks, the Emperor decided to move against the very heart of Austria and capture Vienna, hoping thereby to compel the Russian army and the detached Austrian corps to rally for the defense of the capital, and thus present the opportunity for a further decisive French victory. The new plan called for considerable administrative reorganization and rapid troop movements. Augsburg was nominated the new place de dépôt, becoming the site of the military hospitals and the accumulated stores of the army, and Munich was made the new center of operations. The protection of the new base and the garrisoning of Ulm were entrusted to Marshal Augereau with orders to mount limited operations in the direction of Vorarlburg to distract the enemy in that directio
n. Ney and the Bavarians were sent to Innsbruck to keep an eye on the movements of the Archduke John, and strong garrisons were placed in Ingolstadt, Ratisbon and Passau to guard the Bohemian and Prussian flank. Four divisions were formed into a new corps (the VIIIth) under General Mortier for operations on the north bank of the Danube with the tasks of guarding the French flank and, at the same time, posing a potential threat to Kutusov’s communications; a flotilla of river boats was also organized under Captain Lostanges of the Sailors of the Guard to link Mortier with the forces on the south bank and also to ease the movement of supplies.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 51