Throughout the night after the victory at Dresden, Napoleon believed that the enemy would return again to battle on the morrow. This is conclusively shown by the notes which he made for Berthier during the evening. These were based on the stated hypothesis that the enemy was not really in retreat, but would on the morrow by a great battle strive to retrieve his failure. But the Emperor was altogether mistaken. To be sure, the council of the disheartened allies debated far into the small hours whether an advantageous stand could not still be made on the heights of Dippoldiswalde, but the decision was adverse because the coalition army was sadly shattered, having lost a third of its numbers.
Crippled on its left and threatened on its rear, it began next morning to retreat in fair order toward the Ore Mountains, and so continued until it became known that Vandamme was directly in the path, when a large proportion of the troops literally took to the hills, and retreat became flight. Then first, at four in the afternoon, Napoleon began to realize what had actually occurred. And what did he do? Having ridden almost to Pirna before taking measures of any kind to reap the fruits of victory, he there issued orders for the single corps of Vandamme, slightly reinforced, to begin the pursuit! Thereupon, leaving directions for Mortier to hold Pirna, he entered a carriage and drove quietly back to Dresden!
These are the almost incredible facts: no terrific onslaught after the first night, no well-ordered pursuit after the second, a mere pretense of seizing the advantage on the third day! In fact, Napoleon, having set his plan in operation at the very beginning of the battle, sank, to all outward appearances, into a state of lassitude, the only sign of alert interest he displayed throughout the conflict being shown when he was told that Moreau had been mortally wounded. The cause may have been physical or it may have been moral, but it was probably a political miscalculation.
If we may believe Captain Coignet, the talk of the staff on the night of the 27th revealed a perfect knowledge of the enemy’s rout; they knew that the retreat of their opponents had been precipitate, and they had credible information of disordered bands seen hurrying through byways or rushing headlong through mountain defiles. Yet for all this, they were thoroughly discontented, and the burden of their conversation was execration of the Emperor. “He’s a……who will ruin us all,” was the repeated malediction. If we may believe Napoleon himself, he had a violent attack of vomiting near Pirna, and was compelled to leave everything on that fateful day to others.
This is possible, but unlikely; the day before, though listless, he was well enough to chat and take snuff as he stood in a redoubt observing the course of events through his field-glass; the day after he was perfectly well, and exercised unusual self-control when tidings of serious import were brought from the north. The sequel goes to show that neither his own sickness nor the bad temper of the army sufficiently accounts for Napoleon’s unmilitary conduct on the 28th; it appears, on the contrary, as if he refrained of set purpose from annihilating the Austrian army in order to reknit the Austrian alliance and destroy the coalition. This he never was willing to admit; but no man likes to confess himself a dupe.
Had Oudinot and Macdonald succeeded in their offensive operations against Berlin, and had Napoleon himself done nothing more than hold Dresden, a place which we must remember he considered from the outset as a defensive point, it would have sufficed, in order to obtain the most favorable terms of peace, to throw back the main army of the coalition, humiliated and dispirited, through Bohemia to Prague. But, as we have repeatedly seen, long service under the Empire had destroyed all initiative in the French marshals: in Spain one mighty general after another had been brought low; those who were serving in Germany seemed stricken with the same palsy. It is true that in the days of their greatness they had commanded choice troops, and that now the flower of the army was reserved for the Emperor; but it is likewise true that then they had fought for wealth, advancement, and power.
Now they yearned to enjoy their gains, and were embittered because Napoleon had not accepted Austria’s terms of mediation until it was too late. Moreover, Bernadotte, one of their opponents, had been trained in their own school, and was fighting for a crown. To Blucher, untamed and untrustworthy in temper, had been given in the person of Gneisenau an efficient check on all headlong impulses, and Bulow was a commander far above mediocrity. Such considerations go far to account for three disasters—those, namely, of Grossbeeren, Katzbach, and Kulm—which made it insufficient for Napoleon to hold Dresden and throw back the main army of the allies, and which thwarted all his strategy, military and political.
The first of these affairs was scarcely a defeat. Oudinot, advancing with 70 thousand men by way of Wittenberg to seize Berlin, found himself confronted by Bernadotte with 80 thousand. The latter, with his eye on the crown of France, naturally feared to defeat a French army; at first he thought of retreating across the Spree and abandoning the Prussian capital. But the Prussians were outraged at the possibility of such conduct, and the schemer was convinced that a show of resistance was imperative. On August 22nd a few skirmishes occurred, and the next day Bulow, disobeying his orders, brought on a pitched battle at Grossbeeren, which was waged, with varying success, until nightfall left the village in French hands. Oudinot, however, discouraged alike by the superior force of the enemy, by the obstinate courage of the Prussians, and by the dismal weather, lost heart, and retreated to Wittenberg. The heavy rains prevented an effective pursuit, but the Prussians followed as far as Treuenbrietzen.
On August 21st, Blucher, aware of the circumstances which kept Napoleon at Dresden, had finally determined to attack Macdonald. The French marshal, by a strange coincidence, almost simultaneously abandoned the defensive position he had been ordered to hold, and advanced to give battle. It was therefore a mere chance when on the 25th the two armies came together, amid rain and fog, at the Katzbach. After a bitter struggle the French were routed with frightful loss. A terrific rain-storm set in, and the whole country was turned into a marsh. For five days Blucher continued the pursuit, until he reached Naumburg, on the right bank of the Queiss, where he halted, having captured 18 thousand prisoners and 103 guns.
To these misfortunes the affair at Kulm was a fitting climax. No worse leader for a delicate independent movement could have been selected than the reckless Vandamme. He was so rash, conceited, and brutish that Napoleon once exclaimed in sheer desperation, “If there were two Vandammes in my army, nothing could be done until one had killed the other.” As might have been expected, the headlong general far outstripped the columns of Marmont, Saint-Cyr, and Murat, which had been tardily sent to support him. Descending without circumspection into the plain of Kulm, he found himself, on the 29th, confronted by the Russian guard; and next morning, when attacked by them in superior force, he was compelled to retreat through a mountain defile toward Peterswald, whence he had come. At the mouth of the gorge he was unexpectedly met by the Prussian corps of Kleist. Each side thought the other moving to cut it off. They therefore rushed one upon the other in despair, with no other hope than that of breaking through to rejoin their respective armies. The shock was terrible, and for a time the confusion seemed inextricable. But the Russians soon came up, and Vandamme, with seven thousand men, was captured, the loss in slain and wounded being about five thousand. Saint-Cyr, Marmont, and Murat halted and held the mountain passes.
This was the climax of disaster in Napoleon’s great strategic plan. In no way responsible for Grossbeeren, nor for Macdonald’s defeat on the Katzbach, he was culpable both for the selection of Vandamme and for failure to support him in the pursuit of Schwarzenberg. At St. Helena the Emperor strove in three ways to account for the crash under which he was buried after Dresden: by the sickness which made him unable to give attention to the situation, by the inundation which rendered Macdonald helpless at the crossing of the Bober, and by the arrival of a notification from the King of Bavaria that, after a certain date, he too would join the coalition. This was not history, but an appeal to public sentiment, carefully calculated for untrained readers.
The fact was that at Dresden the gradual transformation of the strategist into the politician, which had long been going on, was complete. The latter misapprehended the moment for diplomatic negotiations, conceiving the former’s victory to have been determinative, when in reality it was rendered partial and contingent by failure to follow it up. Great as Napoleon was in other respects, he was supremely great as a strategist; it is therefore his psychological development and decline in this respect which are essential to the determination of the moment in which he became bankrupt in ability. This instant was that of course in which his strategic failures became no longer intermittent, but regular; and after Dresden such was the case. As to conception and tactics there never was a failure—the year 1814 is the wonder-year of his theoretical genius; but after Dresden there is continuous failure in the practical combination of concept and means, in other words, of strategic mastery.
This contention as to the clouding of Napoleon’s vision by the interference of political and military considerations is proved by his next step. Hitherto his basal principle had been to mass all his force for a determinative blow, his combinations all turning about hostile armies and their annihilation, or at least about producing situations which would make annihilation possible. Now he was concerned, not with armies, but with capital cities. Claiming that to extend his line toward Prague would weaken it, in order to resume a strong defensive he chose the old plan of an advance to Berlin, and Ney was sent to supersede Oudinot, Schwarzenberg being left to recuperate unmolested.
The inchoate idea of political victory which turned him back from Pirna was fully developed; by a blow at Berlin and a general northward movement he could not merely punish Prussia, but alarm Russia, separate the latter’s army from that of the other allies, and then plead with Austria his consideration in not invading her territories. In spite of all that has been written to the contrary, there was some strength in this idea, unworthy as it was of the author’s strategic ability. Ney was to advance immediately, while he himself pressed on to Hoyerswerda, where he hoped to establish connections for a common advance.
Such a concentration would have been possible if for a fortnight Macdonald had been able to hold Blucher, and Murat had succeeded in checking Schwarzenberg. But the news of Macdonald’s plight compelled Napoleon to march first toward Bautzen, in order to prevent Blucher from annihilating the army in Silesia. Exasperated by this unexpected diversion, the Emperor started in a reckless, embittered temper. On September 5th it became evident that Blucher would not stand, and Napoleon prepared to wheel in the direction of Berlin; but the orders were almost immediately recalled, for news arrived that Schwarzenberg was marching to Dresden. At once Napoleon returned to the Saxon capital.
By September 10th he had drawn in his forces, ready for a second defence of the city; but learning that 60 thousand Austrians had been sent over the Elbe to take on its flank any French army sent after Blucher, he ordered the young guard to Bautzen for the reinforcement of Macdonald. Thereupon Schwarzenberg, on the 14th, made a feint to advance. On the 15th Napoleon replied by a countermove on Pirna, where pontoons were thrown over the river to establish connection with Macdonald. On the 16 Napoleon reconnoitered, on the 17th there was a skirmish, and on the 18th there were again a push and counterpush.
These movements convinced Napoleon that Schwarzenberg was really on the defensive, and he returned to Dresden, determined to let feint and counter-feint, the ‘system of hither and thither,’ as he called it, go on until the golden opportunity for a crushing blow should be offered. Blucher meantime had turned again on Macdonald, who was now on the heights of Fischbach with Poniatowski on his right. Mortier was again at Pirna; Victor, Saint-Cyr, and Lobau were guarding the mountain passes from Bohemia.
This was virtually the situation of a month previous to the battle. Schwarzenberg might feel that he had prevented the invasion of Austria; Napoleon, that he had regained his strong defensive. While the victory of Dresden had gone for nothing, yet this situation was nevertheless a double triumph for Napoleon. Ney, in obedience to orders, had advanced on the fifth. Bernadotte lay at Juterbog, his right being westerly at Dennewitz, under Tauenzien. Bertrand was to make a demonstration on the sixth against the latter, so that behind this movement the rest of the army should pass by unnoticed. But Ney started three hours late, so that the skirmish between Tauenzien and Bertrand lasted long enough to give the alarm to Bulow, who hurried in, attacked Reynier’s division, and turned the affair into a general engagement.
At first the advantage was with the Prussians; then Ney, at an opportune moment, began to throw in Oudinot’s corps—a move which seemed likely to decide the struggle in favour of the French. But Borstell, who had been Bulow’s lieutenant at Grossbeeren, brought up his men in disobedience to Bernadotte’s orders, and threw them into the thickest of the conflict. Hitherto the Saxons had been fighting gallantly on the French side; soon they began to waver, and now, falling back, they took up many of Oudinot’s men in their flight. The Prussians poured into the gap left by the Saxons, and when Bernadotte came up with his Swedes and Russians the battle was over. Ney was driven into Torgau, with a loss of 15 thousand men, besides 80 guns and 400 train-wagons. The Prussians lost about nine thousand killed and wounded.
This affair concentrated into one movement the moral effects of all the minor defeats, an influence which far outweighed the importance of Dresden. The French still fought superbly in Napoleon’s presence, but only then, for they were heartily sick of the war. Nor was this all: the Bavarians and Saxons were coming to feel that their obligations to France had been fully discharged. They were infected with the same national spirit which made heroes of the Prussians.
These, to be sure, were defending their homes and firesides; but seeing the great French generals successively defeated, and that largely by their own efforts, they were animated to fresh exertions by their victories; even the reserves and the home guard displayed the heroism of veterans. On September 7th Ney wrote to Napoleon: “Your left flank is exhausted—take heed; I think it is time to leave the Elbe and withdraw to the Saale”; and his opinion was that of all the division commanders.
Throughout the country-side partizans were seizing the supply-trains; Davout had found his Dutch and Flemings to be mediocre soldiers, unfit at crucial moments to take the offensive; the army had shrunk to about 250 thousand men all told; straggling was increasing, and the country was virtually devastated. To this last fact the plain people, sufferers as they were, remained in their larger patriotism amazingly indifferent: the ‘hither-and-thither’ system tickled their fancy, and they dubbed Napoleon the ‘Bautzen Messenger-boy.’ Uneasiness pervaded every French encampment; on the other side timidity was replaced by courage, dissension by unity.
This transformation of German society seemed further to entangle the political threads which had already debased the quality of Napoleon’s strategy. Technically no fault can be found with his prompt changes of plan to meet emergencies, or with the details of movements which led to his prolonged inaction. Yet, largely considered, the result was disastrous. The great medical specialist refrains from the immediate treatment of a sickly organ until the general health is sufficiently recuperated to assure success; the medicaster makes a direct attack on evident disease.
Napoleon conceived a great general plan for concentrating about Dresden to recuperate his forces; but when Blucher prepared to advance he grew impatient, saw only his immediate trouble, and ordered Macdonald to make a grand dash. Driving in the hostile outposts to Forstgen, he then spent a whole day hesitating whether to go on or to turn westward and disperse another detachment of his ubiquitous foe, which, as he heard from Ney, had bridged the Elbe at the mouth of the Black Elster. It was the 23rd before he turned back to do neither, but to secure needed rest on the left bank of the Elbe. But if Napoleon’s own definition of a truly great man be accurate—namely, one who can command the situations he creates—he was himself no longer great.
The enemy not only had bridges over the Elbe at the mouth of the Elster, but at Acken and Rosslau. The left bank was as untenable for the French as the right, and it was of stern necessity that the various detachments of the army were called in to hold a line far westward, to the north of Leipsic. Oudinot, restored to partial favour, was left to keep the rear at Dresden with part of the young guard. On October 1st it was learned that Schwarzenberg was manoeuvering on the left to surround the invaders if possible by the south, and that Blucher, with like aim, was moving to the north. It was evident that the allies had formed a great resolution, and Napoleon confessed to Marmont that his “game of chess was becoming confused.”
The fact was, the Emperor’s diplomacy had far outstripped the general’s strategy. It was blazoned abroad that on September 27th a 160 thousand new conscripts from the class of 1815, with a 120 thousand from the arrears of the seven previous classes, would be assembled at the military depots in France. Boys like these had won Lutzen, Bautzen, and Dresden, and a large minority would be able-bodied men, late in maturing, perhaps, but strong. With this preliminary blare of trumpets, a letter for the Emperor Francis was sent to General Bubna.
The bearer was instructed to say that Napoleon would make great sacrifices both for Austria and Prussia if only he could get a hearing. It was too late: already, on September 9th, the three powers had concluded an offensive and defensive alliance for the purpose of liberating the Rhenish princes, of making sovereign and independent the states of southern and western Germany, and of restoring both Prussia and Austria to their limits of 1805. This was the treaty which beguiled Bavaria from the French alliance, and made the German contingents in the French armies, the Saxons among the rest, wild for emancipation from a hated service. It explained the notification previously received from the King of Bavaria, who, in return for the recognition of his complete autonomy, formally joined the coalition on October 8th, with an army of 36 thousand men.
How much of all this the French spies and emissaries made known to Napoleon does not appear. One thing only is certain, that Napoleon’s flag of truce was sent back with his message undelivered. This ominous fact had to be considered in connection with the movements of the enemy. They had learned one of Napoleon’s own secrets. In a bulletin of 1805 are the words: “It rains hard, but that does not stop the march of the grand army.” In 1806 he boasted concerning Prussia: “While people are deliberating, the French army is marching.”
In 1813, while he himself was vacillating, his foes were stirring. On October 3rd, Blucher, having accomplished a superb strategic march, drove Bertrand to Bitterfeld, and stood before Kemberg, west of the Elbe, with 64 thousand men; Bernadotte, with 80 thousand, was crossing at Acken and Rosslau; and Schwarzenberg, with 170 thousand, was already south of Leipsic; Bennigsen, with 50 thousand reserves, had reached Teplitz. The enemy would clearly concentrate at Leipsic and cut off Napoleon’s base unless he retreated. But it was October 5th before the bitter resolution to do so was taken, and then the movement began under compulsion. Murat was sent, with three infantry corps and one of cavalry, to hold Schwarzenberg until the necessary manoeuvers could be completed.
