A.M. he was only just reaching the outskirts of his objective. He was thus well and truly across Blücher’s rear, but that wily old campaigner succeeded in extricating his beloved Prussians with a great display of skill.
Then Ney made his great blunder of the day. Instead of taking his chief of staff’s (Baron Jomini’s) advice to mask Preititz’ strong defenses (which were now of little value since Blücher had escaped) and pressing on deep into the enemy rear, he pigheadedly launched assault after costly assault against the village. This stupidity had its effect on Lauriston’s dilatory advance as well. Neither Vth Corps nor the VIIth (Reynier) to its rear were notable for their swiftness on this day, and as a result Ney was eventually forced back from Preititz in considerable disarray. However, Reynier made a timely appearance to rally Souham’s battered division at the moment it was on the verge of disintegration, and by 2:00
P.M. Ney was at last fully up to strength. However, he once again wasted invaluable time by trying to force Blücher off the Klein Burchwitz plateau instead of maneuvering him off it—and thus the whole impetus of the outflanking and turning move was allowed to die away. Still the obsession about Preititz befogged the brain of “the bravest of the brave,” and by midafternoon both corps of I’attaque débordante were fully occupied in its vicinity.
Back on the main front, meantime, Napoleon was concentrating every gun that could be brought to bear against the Russian troops defending Senkwitz and Bauschutz. But despite all his efforts, the Russian line held until 5:00
P.M., thanks to the superb gallantry of the Russian Guard cavalry and the Allied artillery reserve. Slowly, however, the pressure of Napoleon’s remorseless attacks began to tell on the tiring Russians, and about 4:00
P.M. the Tsar Alexander authorized the beginnings of a limited withdrawal from the Binnewitz sector. Oudinot at once resumed the offensive, but his men were too decimated and tired to carry out an effective follow-up and pursuit. The other “frontal” corps also began to make ground on their respective sectors.
Meantime, on the French left center, Soult was still doggedly trying to smash a way through the Allied line against heavy and remorseless opposition. Napoleon, noting that elsewhere the Allied resistance was beginning to slacken, played his last trump card and ordered up the Imperial Guard. These veterans of ten campaigns marched forward in superb order and fell with a yell on Blücher’s left flank. This was the “moment of truth.” Blücher was compelled to give ground, and his repulse was the signal for a general Allied retreat. However, the failure of Ney and Lauriston to penetrate much further than Preititz and Baruth meant that their natural line of retreat was still open to the Allies; the most that the exhausted remnants of IIIrd Corps could manage was to take Preititz (at last) and establish contact with Bertrand on their right near Klein Burschwitz. And so the Allies poured away in good order, reputedly saving every moveable gun, the Prussians toward Weissenberg, the Russians toward Löbau. All attempts at a pursuit were brought to a close by a violent storm at 10:00
P.M. The battle of Bautzen was over.
Bautzen might have been the perfect Napoleonic battle but for Ney’s stupidity, Lauriston’s dilatoriness, and the general shortage of cavalry horses which made effective exploitation impossible. It was symptomatic of the deteriorating quality of the French army that Napoleon was forced to commit his beloved Guard to gain a favorable decision. It is also noteworthy that he sorely missed the great leaders of previous battles—particularly Lannes (killed in 1809), Davout (operating on the Lower Elbe) and Massena (far away in Spain). Nevertheless in its planning and general execution the battle of Bautzen forms one of the most interesting and revealing examples of Napoleon’s battle system in operation. As at Castiglione, however, mistakes by subordinates robbed the Emperor of a decisive victory. At Bautzen he suffered equally from the lack of a truly competent general staff and the rampant indiscipline prevalent in the army’s ranks, while difficulties in supply in a hostile area further complicated the issue.
Each side lost approximately 20,000 casualties during the two-day struggle—but in terms of morale the Allies had come off by far the worst, and it was fortunate for them that the French pursuit was so relatively slow and ineffective. This only commenced on the 22nd, and the immediate result was a violent clash with the Allies at Reichenbach, during which General Duroc, controller of the Emperor’s household, was mortally wounded. This new loss was a considerable personal blow to Napoleon, and his immediate reaction was to call off the action—a most unusual decision.
Nevertheless, as the days passed the French succeeded in making considerable progress. The Allies were typically quarreling among themselves. Wittgenstein resigned his command over his differences with the Tsar Alexander (who had virtually directed—and ruined—the battle of Bautzen), and was replaced by the experienced Barclay de Tolly as commander in chief. He in his turn promptly fell out with Blücher when the Russians proposed a retreat into Poland. But in the end a compromise solution was reached whereby both armies fell back to Schweidnitz in Silesia whence they would be able to maintain contact with Austria and at the same time make at least a pretense of defending Prussian soil.
Napoleon, meantime, was trying to make the best of his situation. Oudinot was sent off toward Berlin through Hoyerswerda while the main French army hastened forward toward the Katzbach. Simultaneously, Davout renewed his efforts on the Lower Elbe. These endeavors were not all successful. Oudinot safely withstood Bülow’s attack on May 28, but failed to follow up swiftly enough and consequently suffered a sharp reverse in his turn at Luckau. On the main front, the Allies maintained such a stiff resistance that both Bertrand and Macdonald at one point fell back, but on June 1 Napoleon succeeded in occupying Breslau on the Katzbach. Three days earlier Davout had successfully reoccupied Hamburg. But it was becoming evident that the French army did not possess the strength to clinch the campaign at this juncture. Their communications were everywhere infested with Cossack bands roving at will, the spirits of the young conscripts were rapidly sinking as battle, straggling and sickness took their toll without there being any real sign of a successful outcome, and the marshalate was squabbling within itself—at one moment Marshal Ney actually submitted his resignation; it was refused.
There is small wonder, therefore, that both sides were prepared to welcome the renewed suggestion of an armistice, put forward this time by Austria, whose mediation Napoleon was now prepared to admit. Although by taking Breslau he appeared to be in a good position for threatening the flank and rear of the Schweidnitz position, the Emperor was prepared to accept a cease-fire. So was Alexander—although only two weeks before he had dismissed Caulaincourt’s mission out of hand. On June 2 a 36-hour suspension of hostilities began, but after a conference at Plaswitz on the 4th the powers agreed that an armistice should continue until July 20 pending the outcome of negotiations for a settled peace. And so, rather unexpectedly, the spring phase of the Campaign of 1813 came to an abrupt close.
See Part Three, pp. 191-201.
78
THE ARMISTICE
Some see in Napoleon’s willingness to accept second best (or at least a pause) incontrovertible proof of a decline in his powers. In reality, whatever the eventual outcome of the decision, it was based on sound grounds at the time, for the French army was in dire need of a period of reconstruction and recuperation. “You will see by the news in the Moniteur that an armistice is being negotiated. It will possibly be signed today or tomorrow,” began a letter to General Clark from the Emperor dated June 2. “This armistice will interrupt the course of my victories. Two considerations have made up my mind: my shortage of cavalry, which prevents me from striking great blows, and the hostile attitude of Austria.”21
Although the inadequacies of the cavalry arm were real enough and the presence of some 150,000 Austrian troops massing in the general vicinity of Prague could hardly be ignored, there were several other pressing reasons that dictated such a course. First there was the effect of s
trategic consumption on a very imperfectly organized and rapidly tiring army. Since the opening of the campaign, the French had lost almost 25,000 more killed and wounded than their adversaries. In addition, the strains of ceaseless marching and fighting had placed a further 90,000 on the sick lists, and the numbers of stragglers falling by the wayside were reaching alarming proportions. The combined effect of this wastage was to preclude the chance of a total victory, and at the same time make the possibilities of even one defeat extremely grave. Then, there was a growing shortage of ammunition; since leaving Dresden, the army had marched impossibly far ahead of its trains. Lastly, the strength of the partisan and Cossack raids on the lines of communication was making it virtually impossible to bring up either supply or ammunition convoys. Only on May 30, an artillery convoy and 1,600 men had been captured by the enemy near Halberstadt. In other words, Napoleon’s momentum was exhausted, and a halt was imperative.
The Allies, too, were in an increasingly desperate situation. They had suffered two heavy defeats, their numbers were steadily sinking, their generals continually quarreling—and there appeared to be no chance of either defeating Napoleon or persuading Austria to abandon its ambivalent attitude under the prevailing circumstances. Both the Tsar and the King of Prussia had resolved to stand and fight at Schweidnitz whatever the outcome—and the French had all unknowingly been within sight of complete victory when they occupied Breslau, thus turning the line of the Katzbach. Clearly the position of the Allies was far more desperate when the armistice became operative on June 2 than Napoleon even guessed. Consequently, there is little doubt that the Allies gained more from the suspension than their opponents, and that from the strategical point of view therefore Napoleon was guilty of an error of judgment.
It is doubtful whether either side genuinely expected peace to materialize from the talks and conferences that ensued. Far more probably each regarded the lull as a breathing space, a brief interval between rounds in a life or death contest. When Napoleon made his way back to Dresden on June 10 to make it his main base, there is no doubt that thoughts of reinforcements and future strategy were uppermost in his mind. The Allies were also adamant that Napoleon must be brought low. Consequently a period of hectic intrigue and counterintrigue ensued as both sides attempted to strengthen their political and military positions prior to the eventual resumption of hostilities which each secretly believed inevitable. On June 15 England gave £2,000,000 to Russia and Prussia, and promised £500,000 to Austria if she would cease to prevaricate. Little by little the ring began to close. On July 7, Sweden finally promised full support for the Allies. On the 19th, by the terms of the secret Reichenbach Convention, Austria promised to throw the full weight of her forces against the Emperor if he refused stipulated terms.
Meanwhile, the wily and unscrupulous Metternich was enigmatically playing the diplomatic game with the greatest finesse. Before his celebrated interview with Napoleon on June 26, the Austrian statesman had no difficulty in assessing the atmosphere surrounding the Imperial Court. “It would be difficult for me to describe the gloomy inquietude which I saw on the face of the gold-spangled courtiers and generals assembled in the Emperor’s apartments. The Prince of Neuchâtel [Berthier] said to me in a whisper: ‘Do not forget that Europe needs peace—France above all wants nothing but peace.’”22
However, Austria’s terms for a general pacification, once presented, proved wholly inacceptable. The Allies demanded nothing less than the dissolution of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw and the Confederation of the Rhine, the return of the Illyrian provinces to Austria and the restoration of Prussia to her 1805 frontiers. Such terms smacked too much of a peace dictated to a vanquished foe, and Napoleon, with two recent victories to his credit and more troops (albeit conscripts) hastening to join his armies, rejected the offer.
At the suggestion of the Allies, the armistice was extended for an additional three weeks—ostensibly to permit the conferences to reach their conclusion, but in fact to give Austria time to complete her secret mobilization. Napoleon, also eager to complete his preparations, was agreeable—although he no longer had any illusions about the eventual outcome. Then, on August 12, Austria declared war against France. Schonbrunn’s cards were on the table at last. The armistice with Russia and Prussia was supposed to run until the 16th, but three days prior to that date Blücher advanced aggressively from the Breslau area. The struggle of the giants resumed.
By mid-August the Allies had almost completed their preparations and plans. The pause had enabled them to swell the ranks of their armies to truly formidable proportions. Russia had no less than 184,000 men under arms by this juncture; Prussia was mobilizing a vast number of Landwehr which would in due course reach a total strength of over 160,000; Bernadotte was moving cautiously toward Berlin with 40,000 Swedes; and now Austria had thrown a further 127,000 troops into the scales. In all, therefore, well over half a million Allies were readily available (556 battalions, 572 squadrons, 68 regiments of Cossacks), and there was the prospect of 350,000 more reserves and second-line troops materializing in the none too distant future. There were already 1,380 cannon accompanying the main field armies. By mid-August these numbered three. Bernadotte had been placed in command of the Army of the North—Swedes and Prussians 110,000 strong—and was occupying the Berlin area by the end of the armistice. Blücher, to the south of Breslau, was at the head of the Army of Silesia (95,000 men) as formerly. Thirdly, Prince Schwarzenberg was busily collecting the last elements of the 230,000-strong Army of Bohemia in the vicinity of the Upper Elbe; in addition to Austrians, this force contained strong detachments of Russians and Prussians. A fourth force—the Army of Poland commanded by Bennigsen (60,000 men)—was forming in Poland, and throughout Prussia and Austria new drafts were hastening to join the colors.
The Allied plans went through several dozen phases before being confirmed. Even then they were a complicated amalgam. However, one feature stands out clearly: the Allies were by no means eager to try conclusions with Napoleon in any single huge trial of strength; they rather intended to defeat him in detail as the opportunities arose. The so-called Trachenberg Plan was insistent that an army attacked by Napoleon en masse should forthwith retire, while the other armies closed in on the French communications by the most direct roads. The Allied commanders were understandably respectful of Napoleon’s battle power and felt that a gradual process of attrition was more likely to produce the desired results. The Army of Bohemia was to be the main Allied force. But Prince Schwarzenberg was far from the ideal supreme commander, lacking confidence and tending to be overcautious, and in consequence, as will be seen, Tsar Alexander would frequently intervene in person—not always with the happiest of results. Putting aside its differences, however, on August 17, the high command determined to launch a three-part drive toward Leipzig even though this would entail losing close contact with the Army of Silesia. News of Wellington’s victory at Vitória in Spain (June 21) served to raise morale.
Napoleon, meantime, had been massing troops as fast as it was in his power. By August he had collected 559 battalions, almost 400 squadrons and 1,284 cannon, representing possibly 400,000 infantry and almost 40,000 cavalry; additional forces manning the Elbe fortresses, the distant and isolated detachments still holding out in Poland, Eugène’s Italian armament and Wrede’s Bavarians on the River Inn accounted for approximately a quarter of a million more between them. Thus Napoleon could face the Allied grand total of over 800,000 with at least 700,000 of his own, although a very high proportion of his apparent strength was illusory, owing to the generally poor quality of his conscripts. However, the French were superior in the general quality of their officers and of their artillery arm, and at least the mass of their multinational infantry forces had received the same training and were armed with identical weapons (the Allies could boast no such uniformity in either of these respects). The French cavalry arm remained dangerously weak in quality, and in this single field the Allies were at a great advantage from the out
set. One serious defection to the Allied camp should be noted: following a tiff with Berthier over promotion prospects, the brilliant Baron Jomini transferred his services “over the hill.” The brave but easily baffled Marshal Ney was never quite to recover from the loss of his éminence grise.
The Emperor appears to have formulated his plan of action only shortly before the reopening of the campaign. Eventually he conceived a two-part scheme. As during the Bautzen period of the former operations, the French army would be generally divided into two wings. The larger (numbering the 250,000 men of the Ist, IInd, IIIrd, Vth, VIth, XIth and XIVth Corps, the Guard and four corps of cavalry) would adopt a strategic defensive based upon the Saxon capital of Dresden, with the central reaches of the Elbe, the strengthened fortresses of Magdeburg, Wittenberg, Torgau, and the forward positions of Bautzen and Görlitz serving as points d’appui. Dresden itself, with its great depots and camps, formed the kingpin of the entire system. “What is important to me is to avoid being cut off from Dresden and the Elbe,” claimed the Emperor. “I will care little if I am cut off from France.”23 The second part of the army was entrusted to Oudinot; he was given command over almost 120,000 men—constituting the IVth, VIIth and XIIth Corps together with Arrighi’s cavalry (3rd Reserve Corps), massing around Luckau, and Davout’s XIIth Corps (35,000-strong) holding Hamburg and the Lower Elbe. With the exception of Davout (who would move eastward), this force was intended to launch a heavy attack northward against Berlin and thereafter tackle Bernadotte’s army.
In this scheme we can detect traces once again of the original master plan of April, as well as a vindictive desire to see a disloyal monarch and a treacherous ex-marshal heavily punished. It was not, however, his most brilliant proposal; Napoleon had clearly abandoned the idea of a rapid offensive on the southern sector, where alone a true decision was feasible, and adopted instead a side movement, which would at best merely draw the Prussians away from their Austrian and Russian allies. Perhaps he hoped for a sort of strategic Austerlitz—but his choice of subordinates for the drive on Berlin was rather peculiar. Almost certainly he would rather have trusted this task to Soult, but after Vitória it had proved imperative to send the Duke of Dalmatia back to the tottering Spanish front.
The Campaigns of Napoleon Page 110