Napoleon Bonaparte

by Alan Schom

  Schwarzenberg was in command of Austrian operations, and the czar as usual the smaller Russian force, nominally under Barclay but delegated to Wittgenstein, directing 177,500 Allies.

  When the fighting broke out on the morning of the sixteenth, the heaviest was on the northern and western lines, catching Napoleon off guard, for while Gyulai’s corps now moved across barring the Lindenau-Lützen Road, engaging General Arrighi, Blücher’s 54,000 Prussians suddenly appeared in force, dropping on Marmont’s unsuspecting corps, quickly forcing them to fall back on a much more contracted defensive position around the village of Möckern. Bertrand’s IV Corps moved through the northern suburbs of Leipzig to reinforce Arrighi on the westernmost French flank, even as the main French line to the south was also being reinforced. Poniatowski deployed his men along the western French flank anchored on the Pleisse, supported by Augereau behind him, next Victor still in place, bolstered in turn behind him by Oudinot’s Guard (Bessières had been killed in May), and Lauriston to the east of Victor, supported by Mortier.

  By 11:00 A.M. Austro-Russian forces were already starting to spread farther east and north. All Napoleon’s plans were going completely awry. Heavy fighting took place most of the day to the north, west, and the long principal southern line. The unexpected heavy Prussian attack that morning had spoiled everything. Ney’s III Corps, originally in the center to help launch the enveloping movement, was awkwardly divided. As for the misty weather, it nicely concealed the Austrians’ dense columns as they moved up. There were too many surprises for Napoleon, as General Meerveldt’s units plowed through marshy land to attack the French unexpectedly around the villages of Dölitz and Connewitz.

  For all that the Allied attack was not well coordinated, some units arriving as late as 9:30 A.M. The heavy fighting around the hamlet of Waschau between Victor and Prince Eugène of Württemberg was as hot as it was uncertain, even as Kleist took the village of Markkleeberg. By eleven o’clock Schwarzenberg’s principal southern attack had in fact petered out. More Russian and Prussian reserves and Guards were moved up, while the Allies waited impatiently for another surprise they had up their sleeve, a fresh force of 70,000 men under Bennigsen and Colloredo, still marching up from Dresden, and Blücher was due to launch his offensive at 2:00 P.M.

  Due to all these uncertainties, during the morning, Napoleon had delayed the French offensive until noon, when he finally ordered their main attack, concentrating the fire of 150 pieces of heavy artillery against Kleist, Prince Eugène, and Gorchakov, with the aim of throwing his reserves through them while Murat at the head of 10,000 cavalry cleared the Allied center. Struck hard, the Austrians reeled back. Meanwhile, to the north of Leipzig, Blücher duly unleashed his own attack on schedule at two o’clock, thus holding down Marmont and Souham, who were to have taken part in Napoleon’s swing around the Allied right flank. By now the fighting was very intense all along the line, as 2,500 cuirassiers, Napoleon’s heavy cavalry, led by General Doumerc, charged forward against Prince Eugène’s flank. So successful were they that they cleared a path straight through the Allied front lines almost back to the command post of a surprised Czar Alexander, only to find themselves unsupported by French units that were to have followed. Exhausted and bloodied, the cuirassiers were in turn hurled back to their own lines. Their entire action took only a half hour, between 2:30 and 3:00 P.M., ending Napoleon’s much-hoped-for and badly needed success, as the Austrians gradually regained land and advanced, even threatening the French right.

  As a result of the successful attack by Blücher, Napoleon had to abandon his post and move up to Möckern to direct operations. Although Marmont’s corps at Möckern were as good as any in the present army, holding off the equally fierce Prussians, they still required two of Ney’s divisions as well. As a result of the defection of some of his officers, however, Marmont found himself unable to break through the Prussians, checking his own hoped-for offensive. And there was nothing even Napoleon could do about that. The Prussians, under the command of Yorck, continued bull-headedly in the face of withering fire and heavy casualties to launch one attack after another. Never had Napoleon seen such Prussian leadership and tenacity. In the end Yorck unleashed his entire cavalry, finally overrunning Marmont’s courageous VI Corps and their artillery, the Prussians then seizing Möckern. But darkness now intervened, preventing the Prussians from following up this important northern sector success.

  So ended the first day of the Battle of Leipzig, or Battle of Nations, during which the Allies had already lost 30,000 casualties and the French at least 25,000. The only reinforcements the French could expect were Reynier’s 14,000 men, while the Allies still were awaiting Bennigsen’s 70,000 men and Bernadotte’s Army of the North of 85,000. Napoleon had no idea of the forces working against his chances of success.

  So battered were both sides that little fighting took place on the seventeenth, an unusual event in any Napoleonic battle. Every day they waited, the Allied position strengthened. When Reynier’s corps finally did arrive, this gave Napoleon just under 200,000 men. But with the arrival of Bennigsen from the east and Bernadotte from the north, the Allies had more than 300,000 men, 155,000 of them perfectly fresh. In addition the Allies had 1,500 guns to 650 French artillery pieces.

  With their now overwhelming numerical superiority by the dawn of the eighteenth, the Allied supreme command decided to enclose the entire French force in their coils, gradually contracting, squeezing the French toward Leipzig proper, despite the heavy downpour that night, which rendered all movement slow and exhausting.

  With all the additional firepower, the fighting consisted of confusion and constant movement. Gyulai’s corps sealed off most of the western flank as Blücher’s three corps, aided by Bernadotte and Winzingerode, pushed heavily, forcing back Dombrowski, Marmont, and Reynier. The encirclement coincided from west to east as well, as Wesse-Homburg’s 50,000 men, supported by Barclay’s 65,000 Russians, hit the extreme French left flank under Poniatowski and Victor, very hard. At the same time, further pressing the French back sharply from the cast, Bennigsen’s and Colloredo’s 70,000 fresh troops hit Macdonald and Sébastiani along a line from Hayda to the village of Moklau. The French were hopelessly outnumbered. As if things were not bad enough, more of Napoleon’s “allies” defected in mid-battle, including two brigades of Saxons, along with their badly needed artillery — which did not help the morale of those remaining behind. To cinch the Coalition’s victory, which was now obvious to all, Bernadotte from the northwest and Bennigsen from the east launched another massive attack, forcing the French closer to the walls of Leipzig, followed by Barclay’s tough onslaught from the southwest.

  Almost completely encircled; low on ammunition, food, and supplies; and with very high casualties, as darkness approached a stunned Napoleon knew he was lost. Riding back to Leipzig he prepared to retreat. Keeping open the bridges and the route through Lindcnau, Bonaparte ordered the remnants of his battered army to withdraw from Leipzig, taking the road to Lützen, in the direction of Auerstädt and Erfurt.

  Gradually during the night of October 18-19, haggard though they were, the French withdrew in good order, leaving 30,000 men behind to protect their rear.

  It was only after seven o’clock the next morning that the Allies began to realize that for the first time they had completely routed the mighty Napoleon, whose troops were now fleeing toward Erfurt, abandoning 35,000 French garrison troops now isolated behind them along the Elbe. Requesting a truce, Napoleon gained a little more time, as the last French units continued to pour through Leipzig’s ancient narrow streets, along the battle-torn passages, and across the Lindenau causeway, Bonaparte himself leaving the city just after 11:00 A.M. on the nineteenth.

  “Nothing was more difficult than getting out of Leipzig, this city surrounded on all sides by the enemy,” Constant recalled. “The emperor headed for the [western] Ranstadt Gate, but it was so completely blocked by men and debris that it was impossible to work our way through. He then
had to retrace his steps, crossing the city again. Successfully getting through the northern gate, he then circled back to the western road to Erfurt.”

  It was a textbook withdrawal, as orderly as could be expected under the circumstances, that is until once again the unexpected occurred. An incompetent Colonel Montfort, disobeying orders to remain behind to supervise the destruction of the Lindenau bridge after the last of the rear guard had cleared Leipzig, had followed the all-too-prevalent sauve qui pent (every man for himself) tradition of the French army and abandoned his post, leaving just one corporal in charge of that critical task.

  Although the bridge was still crowded with thousands of French troops, seeing his own commanding officer running away, this corporal panicked and at one o’clock on the nineteenth blew up the bridge, killing hundreds of French troops while entrapping most of the French rear guard under Marshal Oudinot’s command. Although Oudinot was able to swim to the safety of the other side, the valiant but badly wounded General Poniatowski was not, drowning in midstream. With all escape impossible, the last of the French rear guard, directed by Generals Lauriston and Reynier, put up a stiff but futile fight that afternoon, until they were forced to surrender to prevent the complete slaughter of their troops.

  The losses for all sides were horrifying, the Allies suffering 54,000 casualties, the French losing close to 75,000 men, including 30,000 POWs and a few thousand defectors. In addition forty-eight French general officers were lost, thirty-six as prisoners and another dozen killed or wounded.

  And then there were the usual innocent civilian bystanders, caught helplessly by forces beyond their control or comprehension, whose casualties were never counted. Dresden had been heavily bombarded and Leipzig, like Smolensk and Borodino, left in flames and ruin, not to mention the dozens of villages surrounding those battle sites. Thousands of civilians were killed or wounded and thousands more left homeless.

  The French continued to make their way to Frankfurt and Mainz as the Allies pursued, taking the less seriously wounded with them, abandoning the rest along the wayside, along with their dead. In addition, they left behind their dead horses, hundreds of vehicles, and another 325 cannon. Some “70,000 combatants and 40,000 stragglers finally reached the Rhine in safety, but almost 400,000 troops had been lost.”

  The Saxon campaign had not completely bypassed brother Jérôme. Although he formally denied his brother a command at the beginning of the war, on August 12 Napoleon, already beginning to realize how desperate the situation was, authorized General Clarke to write to Jérôme to prepare to defend Kassel. On August 22 and 23 at Zittau the First and Second Westphalian Hussars, recruited earlier by Jérôme, had defected to Coalition forces.

  By mid-September Thielmann’s and Platov’s cavalry were approaching Kassel and temporarily seized Merseburg, Bernadotte himself directing the attacks against the Kingdom of Westphalia. A Russian column under General Chernichev, including 4,000 Cossacks and dragoons and ten cannon, was approaching from the east. When just four miles from Kassel at Munden, they were challenged by 552 Westphalians under General von Zandt, and at Heiligenstadt by another 1,100 men under General Bastineller. At Kassel itself Jérôme had perhaps another 1,050 men, including his grenadiers, hussars, and local citizens.

  On September 25 Jérôme sent a desperate appeal to General Keller-mann asking him for reinforcements. Meanwhile, bypassing General Bastineller’s force, Chernichev continued his march, via Sondershausen and Mulhausen, detaching 800 Cossacks and four cannon toward Kassel. At 4:00 A.M. on the twenty-eighth, Jérôme was awakened by a gendarme saying the Cossacks were at Helsa, about five miles away. Assembling his thousand-man force under the command of General Allix, Jérôme prepared for the defense of his capital, closing the Leipzig Gate, protected by two cannon. But the Cossacks continued to advance to the city walls.

  After a hearty breakfast, a uniformed King Jérôme appeared on his horse at the Vieux Châteaux and announced his intention of clearing the enemy. One convoy of carriages filled with courtiers and French employees had already left precipitously for Holland. Jérôme now bade good-bye to his fairy-tale kingdom, as they passed through the southern gate, accompanied by his generals and ministers, abandoning Allix and his men. Jérôme led the remaining few hundred men, including his personal guard, two squadrons of hussars, and a battalion of grenadiers, and attacked the Cossacks at the river, who then fled.

  Jérôme waited, hoping for reinforcements. When none had arrived by three o’clock, Jérôme fled for his life, not even stopping at Marburg. On the thirtieth General Chernichev bombarded Kassel with field guns. At 7:00 P.M. Allix, heavily outnumbered by army veterans and abandoned by his own king, surrendered. That evening the Russians took possession of the Kingdom of Westphalia, pronouncing the dissolution of the kingdom and the dethronement of Jérôme Bonaparte. That same day, riding so fast that he left far behind his own valet de chambre, French chef, and all his possessions, with literally only the shirt on his back, ex-King Jérôme reached the Rhine. As for the abandoned, angry Princess von Löwenstein, she had earlier left for greener pastures, all her plans in shambles.

  Traveling incognito, Jérôme’s movements were as uncertain as they were erratic. He first set out for Koblenz, then for Cologne. There on November 3 Jérôme received a castigating letter from brother Napoleon informing him to take up residence along the Rhine and to send for his wife, Caroline, immediately. On Napoleon’s orders the duc de Bassano formally forbade Jérôme from returning to Paris or France, or even Mainz. “The King continuously having failed to heed the Emperor’s advice, while likewise failing to do any of the things upon which his interests, and those of his kingdom, depended, His Majesty therefore would find any meeting [between the two brothers] as painful as it would be pointless.” As far as the emperor of the French was concerned, brother Jérôme no longer existed.

  In the meantime Napoleon, reaching the Rhine on November 2, spent a few days at Mainz, setting out from that city for the last time on November 7 and reaching St.-Cloud two days later. On November 11 Marshal St.-Cyr surrendered Dresden to the Austrians. On the fourteenth, addressing the French Senate, Emperor Napoleon solemnly announced: “The Grand Empire no longer exists, it is France itself we must now defend.” And then, as if matters could not be worse, he received a final letter from brother Louis, who had since taken refuge at Madame Mère’s estate of Pont-sur-Seine, near Paris. Louis still wanted to be King of Holland! “The Empire has been invaded and I have the whole of an armed Europe against me...If you persist in your idea of returning to Holland as its king, then the sooner you leave Paris the better and do not come within forty leagues [120 miles] of it ever again!” First Leipzig, then Jérôme and his crazy wife, now Louis — while his entire world was collapsing all around him.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – “The Cossacks Are Coming!”

  ‘Make no preparations for the abandonment of Paris. If worse comes to worse we will bury ourselves under its ruins.’

  “You have seen the emperor? How is he? What is he doing? What does he say about his defeat?” the Marquise de LaTour du Pin asked Talleyrand immediately on his arrival at her soirée. “Oh! Don’t bother me about your precious emperor. That man is finished,” Talleyrand replied, his expression as cold and as emotionless as ever. “It’s too painful to describe that horrible day when the news of Leipzig reached Paris,” Victorine de Chastenay recorded in her Memoirs. “It appears that the emperor made a complete shambles of it there.” The French capital, she continued, reacted quickly. “The idea of returning to the ancien regime and the Bourbons began to spread, almost becoming popular. I was simply staggered at the idea and at how many people were turning to it overnight...The young ladies wore rings freshly engraved with: ‘Domine, salvum fac regem’” — “Lord, protect the king,” Louis XVIII, who had been in exile since 1791.

  “The happiness on seeing his wife and son again acted as a real balm for Napoleon’s wounds,” Méneval remarked,

  but it served onl
y as a momentary diversion from all the anxieties besieging him. Every one of these called his attention to the urgent necessity of coping with the defense of French territory. Emergency administrative councils presided over by the Emperor were held all day long. Extraordinary measures had to be taken to recruit a new army, remount the cavalry, manufacture arms, etc. His private treasury amassed in the cellars of the Tuileries over the past ten years was now used to cover the costs of these urgent military expenses,

  as the official French treasury had been emptied to launch the last campaign in Saxony.

  Then on December 15, 1813, Saint-Aignan, the French minister to Weimar, arrived unexpectedly from Frankfurt-am-Main, where the Allies had assembled. Russian Foreign Minister Nesselrode, Chancellor Metternich, and Lord Aberdeen offered Napoleon a peace treaty, requiring France to evacuate the rest of Europe and return to its “natural frontiers.” With the country still in a state of shock, and the French Army reduced to fewer than 70,000 men actually available in and near France, the situation obviously required peace. But instead of responding promptly to the Frankfurt proposals, an angry Napoleon fired Foreign Minister Maret and replaced him with Caulaincourt.

  It was only on January 1 that Napoleon finally authorized a favorable reply to Frankfurt. Meanwhile, not having received word from Paris by the fourth, the impatient Allies unanimously signed and issued a new declaration, that French frontiers would have to be cut back farther, to those of 1792, which meant losing a slice of Switzerland, the left bank of the Rhine (including Aachen), and Belgium right up to Antwerp. For Napoleon that was the final insult — but one he could cope with. He had been rearming from the time of his return for one final campaign.