by Tom Anderson
Thus, even though President Pozzo was less enthusiastic about the British alliance than his predecessor Pasquale Paoli, he agreed to formally bring Corsica into the war. He knew that the allies would need everything they had to bring Lisieux down, and if he could make a difference, there was no choice but to act or wait for the inevitable invasion. Corsica had been a part of France under the Bourbons, and thus must be somewhere on one of Lisieux’s lists of places to retake eventually. Nelson’s rhetoric aligned with Pozzo’s own political instincts to produce a decision. In April 1807, even as the Archduke Ferdinand won his victory over Bourcier at Ciamberì, Pozzo acted. The only other pre-war republic surviving in Europe (the first being the Netherlands, already at war with France) turned its guns on Lisieux. As Giovanni Tressino put it, the French had set out to bring republicanism to Europe, and so far had managed to destroy five of the continent’s republics and start wars with the other two.[98]
In July of that year, just as Bourcier had managed to stop Alvinczi at Rives, Nelson’s plan was enacted. Although John Jervis had already withdrawn the Royal Navy’s Mediterranean Squadron from the island to return belatedly to the Channel, the Corsican Republic’s small local navy remained. Nelson was also able to command much of the Neapolitan fleet, still reinforced with Venetian exiles. Together these fleets were used to transport a sizeable army – an eclectic mix of Neapolitans, men of northern Italy, Sicilians, Corsicans and even a few from the new Kingdom of Aragon – across the Mediterranean. Nelson knew what he had to do. On July 4th 1807, the combined forces descended upon Toulon…
The battle does not deserve to be one of Nelson’s better known, for it displayed little of his usual brilliant tactical insight. Toulon was a grim fight to the knife in which the Neapolitans and their allies suffered losses of almost one-quarter. And it was arguably all for the undying hatred of a man whose homeland had been violated and who suffered unending guilt over the fact that he had not been there to die in her defence. Nonetheless the allies emerged victorious. Toulon fell, bloodily, on July 29th, and suddenly Bourcier’s recovery against the Austrians did not seem so important after all…
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From: “The Jacobin Wars” by E.G. Christie (Hetherington Publishing House, 1926)—
…but of course if one focuses solely on the activities of the British and their allies (as, sadly, many school syllabi do), one loses the importance of such activities when set against the backdrop, the context, of the arguably far larger and more decisive struggle in the east between the French Latin Republic and the emerging Concert of Germany…
Chapter #77: The Spirit of Germania
“From Schleswig to Südtirol, from Dunkirk to Königsberg, from Nanzig to the Siebenbürgen: under one flag, one tongue, one nation under God, and death unto all who stand in our way, be he Frenchman or Pole or treacherous son of Germania!”
- Popular Wars Populist rallying cry, c. 1833, based on the writings of Pascal Schmidt
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From: “The Jacobin Wars” by E.G. Christie (Hetherington Publishing House, 1926)—
Just as many modern scholars have an unfortunate tendency to ignore the latter stages of the Jacobin Wars in Iberia due to the conflict being overshadowed by the emergence of Pablo Sanchez, there is a parallel problem in English-speaking countries to treat the final, decisive years of the conflict in the Germanies as though they were merely a backdrop to the life story of Pascal Schmidt. Certainly, these are two men who, it has often been said, are almost perfect mirror images of each other from the perspective of history. Both were strongly affected by the ravages of the Revolutionary French, but they reacted to the war in diametrically opposed manners. They also remind us that so much of the world we know today was set into motion, ultimately, by Louis XVI being unable to pay his bills…
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From: “My Grand Tour” by the celebrated diarist John Byron III (1830)—
September 25th 1829. Arrived in Kassel after a frankly ghastly journey by means that, though quite acceptable to one’s grandfather, would certainly raise eyebrows in England these days. Hesse-Kassel is one of those distressingly common Continental statelets to attempt to brush over the unfortunate events of our youth (by which I refer to the depredations of Messieurs Robespierre et Lisieux, and not the incident at the Lamb and Flag on St Giles’ Street in ’05; and in any case, I deny any and all accusations aimed at my personage and would consider such allegations a matter of honour worthy of a duel. Except the ones about the stuffed pheasant and the highwayman’s daughter).
I digress. The Hessians do seem quite keen to emulate the Hapsburgs’ policy of simply pretending the Revolution never existed and excising all traces of it from daily life. In which case one is prompted to wonder if the dear Archduke Francis II misread his coronation oath to rule Österreich and instead believes he is honour-bound to behave like an Ostrich. Sadly such witticisms were of small comfort to me as I travelled, or should I say travailled, in the back of a horse-drawn carriage through the Mittelbund.
I confess that after such an experience I found myself quite lacking in good humour, and thus shall await the new dawn to explore this charming little city.
September 26th. Have recovered from my steam-free journey yesterday with the assistance of the innkeeper’s daughter, Fräulein M———, who enthralled me with her command of what she claimed was an Indian massage technique she had learned from a previous exotic visitor. Based on this experience, I believe that fair India is in need of a travelling writer quite soon…
After breaking my fast I learned that Pascal Schmidt was to give a speech before the Orangerie. If you have not heard the name of this celebrated orator, shame upon you, sir. ’Tis rare I meet a fellow diarist of my calibre, nay beyond, for while I may break false modesty for a moment to remark on how my works occasionally send the coffee-shops of the New City a-fluttering, I cannot in honesty claim that they have provoked murmurings among the higher echelons of several powers. Several powers immorally occupying one nation, if one is to take Herr Schmidt’s point of view.
He is indeed a powerful speaker, untrained, but somehow all the more forceful for that, not bothering to obey the rules of rhetoric for perhaps he was never taught them. The crowd did not listen in rapt silence, but shouted back encouragement and occasionally challenges, which he always deftly fielded. Having had experience with German mob leaders before, I was expecting him to turn them on the Jews or perhaps all foreigners in general, and was already hastily practicing my Swabian accent. But instead it was the rulers of the Mittelbund, and of the Germanies in general, whom Schmidt attacked.
All around the crowd were soldiers, wearing the blue coats that many around the world have come to fear; the dread Hessian mercenaries, now in service to their own duke. Yet there was something unplaceably uncomfortable about the way they stood there. They did not want to be there. Some, I am certain, sympathised with Schmidt’s words.
I believe in time the Duke of Hesse-Kassel may regret hiring out his soldiers to the highest bidder. For perhaps, no matter what we of the cynical heart may hold true, there are things more valuable than gold…
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From: “The War in the Low Countries” by P.J. Aldridge (1956)—
The Dutch defeat at La Belle Alliance in 1807 heralded the entry of the Mittelbund, and later Denmark and Saxony, into the war. In January 1808 the British under General Græme landed in Flanders before, of course, being cursorily driven back into the sea by General Poulenc. Some revisionist historians have, however, argued that even this easily dealt with pinprick may have had ramifications for the wider war, for it tied up Poulenc’s corps for a few weeks and bought the Dutch a little time before they faced the full might of Boulanger’s swarming horde.
The Dutch under Stadtholder William VI chose to use this time to implement a defensive strategy which sparked controversy both at the time and for many years to come. The betrayal of General Wrede’s Walloons had rocked Amsterdam to its core, with the result that William beca
me convinced that the Flemish alliance was too unsteady to trust. As Boulanger took Brussels in March and sent Charles Theodore fleeing to Heidelberg, William gave the order. The Dutch Water Line was fully mobilised for the first time since the 1670s. The sluices were opened, flooding a line that cut across the country from the Zuiderzee to the Waal, miles wide but only a few feet deep. Too shallow to cross with boats, save the flat-bottomed barges that the Dutch defenders used themselves, yet too deep and muddy to cross with troops. All along it lay fortifications and traps designed to make mincemeat of invading troops. It was the Dutch Water Line that had stopped none other than Louis XIV in the Franco-Dutch War more than a century before, and it was the Dutch Water Line that now lay between Boulanger and the Dutch Republic’s economic heart.
The plan worked, to an extent. Amsterdam, Utrecht, Rotterdam, Leiden, The Hague; all the big Dutch cities lay behind the Line, untouchable. Boulanger, never one to give up easily, tested the Line repeatedly throughout 1808 as Poulenc’s troops rejoined his force. It was no use. For all the new tactics and technology the Revolution had to offer, they had no magical way of crossing.[99] The Dutch Army manned its barges and used them to deploy small forces to where they would be needed most, for example destroying lightly defended French supply caches near the front. Unable to move forward, unable to embark upon la maraude after they had stripped this country the first time, Boulanger’s army began to starve.
The Revolutionary doctrine said that to hold the heart was to hold the nation, yet the United Netherlands’ heart stood mockingly before the French, unreachable, impregnable. Ironically, the original form of Le Grand Crabe could have dealt with this, perhaps, taking Amsterdam from the sea after achieving control of the Zuiderzee. But Lisieux had redirected Surcouf’s ships and Lepelley’s to England, and now there was nothing left. Villeneuve’s fleet held on for reinforcements that never came, out of range of the French’s semaphore network, and he was eventually defeated and slain by Dutch reinforcements mobilised by the VOC in the Cape Colony and led by Admiral Willem Verdooren. It was an ignominious end for a man who had achieved such spectacular controversy a few years before. The French soldiers camped miserably on Texel and the nearby islands surrendered soon afterwards, having been on half rations for months. The Stadtholder’s tactic had given up most of the country to the French, but had guarded the heart, and now the Dutch Army felt confident enough to redeploy some corps to the Ems in order to prevent the new German possessions from falling into Boulanger’s hands.
What protected the Dutch, however, rebounded upon the Flemings, who saw this as a slap in the face – for all that their own treacherous Walloon troops had been the cause of the defeat at La Belle Alliance. General Wrede, who had managed to escape the battle, tried to rally Flemish troops at Brussels but Charles Theodore II ordered him to withdraw with him to the Palatinate. Brussels had been bombarded by Louis XIV in that earlier war, and it had wrecked the city for generations; a second showing could ruin Brussels forever. Charles Theodore’s actions were not viewed as being as harsh as William VI’s. An orator far greater than his competent but dull father, one who was willing to go far to defend the possessions that had fallen into his lap, the Duke addressed crowds and promised them that he would return, then counselled them to flee with him or to resist the French to their last breath after welcoming them in. Many still cursed him, but he had nonetheless caught the dramatic moment. The contrast between William and Charles Theodore, as well as William’s self-interested actions, formed the ultimate root cause of the antagonism between Amsterdam and Brussels that would later prove crucial in the Popular Wars.
Brussels thus fell without a fight at the start of 1808. Boulanger initially ordered his troops to treat the locals fairly. However, this could only last for so long as the Dutch Water Line halted expansion and his troops, moving according to the Guerre d’éclair doctrine of travelling lightly, were unable to feed themselves. Here, though, Boulanger was so alarmed at the prospect of losing hearts and minds that he could be found yelling at the semaphore balloon’s crew all day long, insisting that new supply routes be founded, indirectly talking back to Lisieux himself in a display that frightened many of his adjutants. It is debatable whether any of this helped; Brussels soon stopped seeing the French as benevolent overlords, though this was less so in Wallonia, where the occupiers not only shared a language but were closer to the supply routes from France proper.
The Dutch partially redeemed themselves in Flemish eyes in July 1808 when a small naval force sailed from Scheveningen to Ostend and thus relieved, at least temporarily, the French siege of the fortress city of Bruges. The fact that the Dutch were willing to risk so many of their forces heralded something which Boulanger did not pick up on. The great general made a mistake. He diverted Poulenc to throw renewed efforts into taking Bruges, aware of the propaganda consequences of appearing to stall, despite all his earlier victories. Yet this took the pressure off eastward expansion, with the result that the Mittelbund relief army smashed into the French without warning in August and, by sheer force of numbers, forced them from the field at the Battles of Koblenz and Trier. Charles Theodore II was there on the battlefield with his own Palatine troops, and had his printing presses running full-time with propaganda pamphlets in imitation of Lisieux. He made an effort to try to kindle resistance to the French in occupied Flanders and engender support, which was somewhat successful.
Boulanger reordered his troops, seeking to concentrate them, knowing he would easily outnumber the Mittelbunders if he organised his soldiers properly. However, he did not recall Poulenc, believing that retreating from Bruges once more would be an irreparable sign of weakness, both in the eyes of the world and in the eyes of Lisieux. Boulanger’s lieutenant Henri Trenet managed to stop the Mittelbund general Konrad von Löwenstein at Adenau in October, but Wrede made a comeback at Mersch a few weeks later and drove back the Jacobin French once more. Boulanger’s combined forces had now coalesced and he was ready to lead them from his forward command at St. Hubert, but then winter set in and brought the armies to a halt.
It was at this point that Boulanger made what is often cited as the greatest mistake of his career. St. Hubert was isolated and his thousands of troops were soon hungry. Rather than retreating back into France, where the nearby town of Sedan could probably have fed many of his men, Boulanger took a much more circuitous route back north to Brussels, miserable in the unusually cold winter. Some have suggested that an engineer voiced the idea that it might be possible to cross the frozen Dutch Water Line in winter, and Boulanger wanted to be close. More likely is the thought that, as ever concerned with appearances (and fearful of Lisieux finally, regretfully disposing of his oldest ally), the Marshal was simply frightened of seeming to retreat once more. Brussels was a triumph, a conquest. He would rule the newly won lands from there. Of course, bringing in French troops with their hungry mouths would only exacerbate Flemish resentment there…
The Mittelbunders pursued the French back through the Duchy of Luxemburg. It was not an organised chase, as many have depicted it – the Mittelbunders, though hardened from their struggles with Ney’s Swabia a few years before, were nonetheless far less capable of moving rapidly than the French. Nonetheless, there were a few isolated skirmishes in which small groups of French who had fallen behind were mercilessly annihilated, slowly reducing Boulanger’s pool of manpower. It was Brussels that turned the tide, however.
In late January, as winter began to retreat, Wrede and Löwenstein seized their moment. The Mittelbunders attacked Brussels, taking advantage of the fact that the cold weather meant that many of Boulanger’s steam engines were failing to perform well. Boulanger was not a fool and tried to convert his artillery back over to conventional horsepower, but was hampered by the fact that his men had already eaten most of Brussels’ horses – and were making a good start on the cats and dogs, too. The Mittelbunders’ assault was not a triumph of siegecraft, not an elegant set-piece battle, but a grim slog through froze
n streets and houses filled with sharpshooters, taking urban battles to a new level. The locals suffered miserably, though it is debatable whether this was any worse than the artillery bombardment that Charles Theodore had feared.
It was in this battle that the fate of nations would be decided, in more ways than one…
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From “Jean de Lisieux: My Part In His Downfall” by Pascal Schmidt (1827, translated from German 1829)—
…February 3rd 1809, a date I shall remember forever. Brussels. That miserable city had been my home for too long, yet though I cursed its name I could not bring myself to hate its inhabitants. The Flemings were a sturdy, hearty folk, and though many in the regiment thought of them as aliens and saw no reason to sympathise with their plight, I knew differently.
My father, as I have said, worked for the Hessian College of Arms and through his work I knew much more of history than many of my fellows in the regiment. I knew Flanders lay within the boundaries of the old Empire not out of an accident of history, but as a part of the German nation. Rather the accident of history was the loss of the Dutch; did not their own anthem praise the German ancestry of William the Silent? But my pleas too often fell on deaf ears. The Mittelbund armies were a mass of intrigue and suspicion, filled with men who were too willing to look upon even the men of the next valley as foreigners. It is a wonder we ever managed to resist Ney. B------s though the French might be, they nonetheless understood the power of nationhood.
