The Campaigns of Napoleon

by David G Chandler

  On hearing that a strong Allied garrison was holding on to Arcis, Napoleon headed for Méry-sur-Seine instead. He could brook no delay, for Blücher would soon resume the offensive on the northern sector; Napoleon could only hope for a quick success against Schwarzenberg before having to return to the Aisne. On March 19 Napoleon was crossing the Aube near Plancy, sending his cavalry racing ahead to attack the Nogent-Troyes highway and sever Schwarzenberg’s line of retreat. At long last he had received a bridging train from Paris, and this helped speed the crossing.

  Once again, however, the French were just too late. The Allied monarchs and generals developed a state of mounting panic as Napoleon approached, and the sanity of their councils was not improved when Schwarzenberg took to his bed with an acute attack of gout. At the last possible moment, however, sense prevailed, and on the 17th the Army of Bohemia began a retreat toward Troyes. Macdonald’s demoralized forces proved incapable of pinning the enemy near the Seine, and in consequence the Allies escaped once again from Napoleon’s trap. Advised by Caulaincourt that the terrified monarchs might be prepared to grant Napoleon the frontiers of 1791 after all, the Emperor tried to reopen negotiations. But the Allies refused to permit the French plenipotentiaries to pass their lines and eventually announced that they were not prepared to negotiate with “the Corsican tyrant” on any terms. It was to be a fight to the finish.

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  THE LAST GAMBLE: ARCIS AND ABDICATION

  The final phase of the Campaign of 1814 lasted from March 20 to the first week in April. At its outset, despite his disappointment concerning the outcome of his attempted sweep on to the communications of the Army of Bohemia, Napoleon still firmly believed he had a chance of disrupting the Allied offensive. Owing to their precipitate retreat, Schwarzenberg’s forces had become strung out over a front of more than 80 miles and were in a state of great confusion. Realizing that the enemy’s rearmost links with Germany were thus still exposed to a determined blow, Napoleon decided to call off his advance on Troyes and instead turned his hurrying columns towards St. Dizier and Joinville on the Upper Marne. Such a maneuver—if successful—could at one blow sever Blücher’s communications with Strasbourg and Schwarzenberg’s with Basel; it would also bring the Emperor into close proximity with Metz and Verdun, with their valuable garrisons of veteran French troops. This was a reversion to the plan of March 3, but it now appeared more promising than ever.

  Early on the 20th the Emperor set out for Arcis-sur-Aube; in order to make a clean break towards the Marne, he desired to scare the Austrians and their Allies into hastening their retreat by means of a southward demonstration. Reports stated that Arcis was weakly held by General Wrede commanding a small Allied rear guard; a sharp blow against this should suffice to keep Schwarzenberg off balance for some time to come—or so calculated the Emperor. For once, however, he completely misjudged Schwarzenberg. Learning of Sébastiani’s crossing of the Aube at Plancy the previous day, the Austrian commander in chief had decided that Napoleon was undoubtedly heading for Troyes. He, too, was wrong of course, but the steps this false assumption led him to take proved of great importance. Believing that his right and rear were reasonably secure for the time being, Schwarzenberg suddenly decided to halt his retreat, reverse his line of march and concentrate his army between Troyes and Arcis for an offensive against the French in the angle formed by the Seine and the Aube. This abrupt volte-face took Napoleon completely by surprise; believing from past reactions of his opponent that it was only necessary to say “boo” to send Schwarzenberg reeling backward in great alarm, the Emperor had not the least idea that the 20th would see the beginning of a major engagement against the advancing Army of Bohemia. But that was how affairs turned out.

  The Battle of Arcis, March 20-21, 1814

  If he had already misjudged Schwarzenberg, Napoleon was similarly guilty of underestimating his Prussian opponent. Supremely confident that Blücher would never dare to renew his drive on Paris, the Emperor issued orders for Marmont and Mortier to march for Châlons and Épernay, ready to join with the main body. The protection of the Paris road from the Army of Silesia was to be left to cavalry alone. “In the present state of affairs, Blücher would have to be mad to attempt a serious movement.”34 A second unpleasant surprise was lying in store.

  Hoping to induce Wrede to abandon Arcis with barely a struggle, Napoleon sent Ney’s corps and Sébastiani to the south of the Aube while he himself followed along the opposite bank. On completion of the current operation, the former were to recross to the north bank and rejoin the Emperor for the march toward Vitry and the Seine.

  Sébastiani and Ney encountered no opposition during their advance. By 11:00

  A.M. Arcis was safely in their possession, and the half-heartedly demolished bridge was soon reopened to traffic. Napoleon arrived about one o’clock, crossing over the river to join Ney at the hamlet of Torcy-le-Grand. He accepted without question the assurance of a single staff officer that no more than 1,000 Cossacks were in the vicinity; this report confirmed his own preconceived notions and he saw no need to question it. His capacity for self-delusion was very marked at this time.

  Nobody, therefore, was more surprised than the Emperor when an hour later a mass of hostile cavalry thundered into view from the direction of Vanpoisson. Sébastiani’s outnumbered horsemen were compelled to give ground despite the aid afforded by Ney’s corps. Defeat seemed inevitable when in the very nick of time General Friant put in an appearance on the left bank at the head of his division of the Old Guard. Placing himself at the head of these troops at the bridge, Napoleon succeeded in rallying his fleeing cavalry. But their terror was infectious, and the least further upset might have caused a general panic. Napoleon, however, was equal to the crisis. An enemy howitzer shell, fuse smoking, buried itself into the earth a few feet from the lines of wavering troops. Noticing some of the men were pushing their way to the rear to avoid the coming explosion, the Emperor deliberately rode his horse over the missile. “The shell exploded, the horse, disemboweled, went plunging down, taking its rider with it. The Emperor disappeared in the dust and smoke. But he got up without a scratch, and mounting a new horse rode off to inspect the positions of the other battalions.”35 It had been a nearer scrape than the incident at Ratisbon in 1809. A few weeks later at Fontainebleau Napoleon was to bemoan the fate which made it impossible for him to die either by enemy bullet or by his own hand; but of this more anon.

  After a bitter fight around Torcy, the French were able to claim that they had repulsed the enemy by nightfall. Later that night, Lefebvre-Desnouëttes arrived with 2,000 new cavalry, and Sébastiani launched a brilliant charge through the pitch blackness, routing two divisions of Allied cavalry before being driven back by Russian artillery fire. After this incident, the French rank and file considered that on balance they had gained the honors of the day.

  So undoubtedly did their Emperor. It never entered his mind that Schwarzen-berg might be massing his entire army beyond the next ridge, his explanation of the day’s surprises being simply that the enemy rear guard had been stronger than anticipated. During the night, however, Schwarzenberg completed the deployment of more than 80,000 troops, which he placed in a wide arc running through the villages of Premierfait, Voué and Chaudrey. The presence of this mighty armament was concealed from the French outposts next morning by reverse slopes. In the meantime Napoleon had sent an urgent message to Macdonald, summoning him to hasten his march from Bray, for he anticipated the need to mount a renewed action against the supposed Allied rear guard later that day. During the night the French were slightly reinforced by the arrival of rear elements of the Guard, two further cavalry formations and one division of the VIIth Corps accompanied by Oudinot. Perhaps 28,000 French troops (including 9,000 cavalry) were on the field by dawn.

  Believing that Napoleon was present in far greater strength than was in fact the case, and convinced that the French were intending to force a major battle, Schwarzenberg’s unaccustomed boldness was
fast evaporating. His determination was not helped by the Tsar, who made it quite clear that he disapproved of the rash Allied resumption of the offensive. Consequently the Allies delayed their intended attack on the morning of the 21st, and hesitantly waited to see what the day would bring. Napoleon meantime, still perfectly sure that only the remnants of the Allied rear guard faced him, ordered Sébastiani to march forward, followed by Ney’s infantry. The sight of the arrayed Allied army that met their eyes when they mounted on to the plateau must have been disconcerting to say the least. Fortunately, Schwarzenberg still hesitated to give the order to attack.

  Napoleon at last awoke to the realities of his situation. There could be no question of fighting—neither Macdonald nor Gérard were yet within supporting distance; his only thought was to break contact and withdraw as many of his men as possible over the Aube. It was fortunate for the French that they now had available a rudimentary bridging train; the single bridge at Arcis could never have taken even half the traffic before the enemy would have been upon them. Under the circumstances, however, the French were able to throw an additional pontoon bridge over the river at Vilatte, and by 1:30

  P.M. the two streams of the French withdrawal were in full flood. Oudinot and Sébastiani were given the honorable but unenviable task of covering the operation.

  It was not until three o’clock that Schwarzenberg at last ordered his first attack. This dilatoriness undoubtedly saved the French. As it was, a desperate battle raged around Arcis until 6:00

  P.M., but at that hour Oudinot withdrew the last of his rear guard and blew up the bridge after a brilliant afternoon’s fighting. Over the two days, the French had lost possibly 3,000 casualties, the Allies probably a thousand more.

  The Allies made no attempt to follow hot on Napoleon’s heels, and so overnight the French were able to head for Sompuis, joining up with Macdonald and Kellermann near Ormes. Reports that Vitry was strongly held caused Napoleon to change his line of march toward Sézanne and Frignicourt. But he was still as determined as ever to reach St.-Dizier, join his garrisons there, and then try to wreak havoc against the enemy’s communications. On the 23rd the footsore column reached St.-Dizier, only pausing to scatter en route 8,000 enemy cavalry which advanced from Vitry to intercept their march. Napoleon obviously still considered that the game could be won. Although he did not know it, however, he had fought his last major engagement of the campaign.

  Before Napoleon reached St.-Dizier, the Allies received invaluable evidence of his future plans. By a stroke of good fortune, an Imperial courier was captured carrying an uncoded letter from Napoleon to the Empress. “I have decided to move on to the Marne,” ran part of this vital document, “in order to push the enemy’s armies farther from Paris and to draw myself nearer my fortresses.”36 More captured messages corroborated this information. The Allied supreme command forthwith met in urgent conference at Pougy. What was to be done? Some spoke in favor of a withdrawal southward, but in the end bolder councils prevailed. News arrived that Blücher was moving east from Laon in an attempt to rejoin Schwarzenberg; on the 17th he had emerged the victor from a sharp brush with Marmont at Fismes, whereupon Marshal Mortier had abandoned Rheims and retired westward to support his colleague. The tidings from the Saone front were also encouraging: Marshal Augereau appeared to have abandoned Lyons. On the basis of this intelligence—and the captured letters—it was decided on the 22nd to move the Army of Bohemia northward to join Blücher. Thereafter new communications could be opened with Germany through Holland, and the reunited Allied armies placed in a good position for a new all-out effort.

  Hardly had the move north commenced, however, than cavalry patrols brought in more intercepted dispatches. These proved to be from Paris, and they revealed that the capital was in a state of great alarm, its defenses being far from complete. Police reports also spoke of considerable agitation by disaffected politicians and ministers, most especially Talleyrand. So impressed was the Tsar by this new windfall that on the 24th he mercilessly bullied Schwarzenberg into changing the latest orders. The revised plan that emerged from the new conclave held at Sommagices called for an immediate advance by both armies (180,000 strong) down the Marne toward Paris, ignoring whatever Napoleon might be able to do in the meantime against their distant communications. To conceal this movement from the Emperor for as long as possible, General Winzingerode was to continue eastward towards St.-Dizier with a force of 10,000 cavalry and light infantry as if the Allies were complying with Napoleon’s expectations and moving east to protect their links with the Rhine.

  Unaware that his bluff was on the point of being called, Napoleon spent four days at St.-Dizier awaiting news of enemy reactions and the arrival of reinforcements, spending the time finalizing his own plans. He decided to head for St.-Mihiel rather than Vitry, Joinville or Bar-sur-Aube. Such a move would enable him to add the troops from Verdun and Metz to his strength (both garrisons were on the point of breaking out) and thereafter undertake la guerre des frontières.37

  However, as day followed day with no news of enemy movements and no sign of Marmont or Mortier, the Emperor became increasingly anxious. On the 26th, his troops successfully routed Winzingerode, but still received no certain information. At last, on the 27th “the veil was torn.” Tidings arrived that Marmont and Mortier had been forced back from La-Fère-Champenoise two days earlier by a large enemy army, and were in the process of retreating toward Meaux and Paris. After an extremely gallant rearguard action against odds of five to one, the National Guard divisions of Generals Pacthod and Amey had been butchered, barely 500 of their joint 4,000 men escaping. It was the moment of truth and disillusion. Clearly Napoleon could no longer hope for the arrival of Marmont and Mortier; nor was there the least chance of forestalling the Allies in a race for Paris; whatever transpired, they would be in the capital two days ahead of Napoleon. It was also clear that Joseph and the city authorities were in a panic; even worse, the indications were that they had failed to put in hand the ordered improvement of the city’s defenses.

  Still Napoleon refused to accept the hopelessness of his position. He spoke of continuing eastward, leaving Paris to its own devices and if necessary shifting the seat of government to Orléans—but his war-weary marshals rebelled. And so the Emperor for practically the first time in his career bowed to opinion and set out westward for Paris. Leaving St.-Dizier on the 28th, he headed for Bar-St.-Aube and Troyes by forced marches. Reaching Troyes on the 30th, he handed the exhausted army over to Berthier and rushed ahead with a small staff and escort. His desperation soon exhausted even this mobile force, and in the end the Emperor pressed on in a post chaise, accompanied by only five officers. Passing through Fontainebleau, he reached Essonnes. There, in the early hours of the 31st, he met a courier bearing news of the surrender of Paris.

  After their success at La-Fère-Champenoise on the 25th, the Allies had pressed on with never a pause for Meaux, and there on the 28th the two Allied armies completed their junction on the very threshold of Paris. The next day the Empress Marie-Louise and the King of Rome left the capital and headed south. They were followed toward Orléans by Joseph and part of the government on the 30th; some high officials, however, including the treacherous Talleyrand, found excuses for remaining in the capital where they busied themselves preparing a welcome for the Tsar. Thereafter the fall of Paris could not be long delayed. After a staunch battle at Romainville, Marmont and Mortier found themselves forced back to the heights of Montmartre, and at two o’clock on the morning of the 31st, Marshal the Duke of Ragusa agreed to an armistice with the Allies, and under its terms withdrew his men to the south of the capital. Soon after, Allied cavalry were swarming through the barriers.

  After twenty-two years of practically continual warfare, the forces of reaction had attained their original avowed goal. Talleyrand made the most of his opportunity; rallying a rump of the government, he declared Napoleon to be deposed, and succeeded in dazzling the Tsar with his charm at their very first meeting
. His genius for survival again stood him in good stead.

  Meanwhile a disconsolate Emperor had returned to Fontainebleau, but even now he refused to admit that his cause was lost beyond redemption. Designating Orléans as his new centre des opérations, he summoned every available formation to join him. By April I he had 36,000 men near Fontainebleau; two days later he could count 60,000. But there were 145,000 Allies in Paris; and although there were indications that the Paris mob was on the point of rising against their conquerors and that the Allies’ hastily set up communications were indubitably wide open to attack, Napoleon had at last reached the end of the road.

  His marshals entreated him to accept the inevitable and avoid further bloodshed. Many of the rank and file, however, remained steadfastly loyal. After being addressed by Napoleon in the Courtyard of the White Horse at the Palace of Fontainebleau, the troops burst into spontaneous cheers of “Vive l’Empereur! À Paris! À Paris!”38 Heartened by this demonstration, next day the Emperor summoned his marshals to receive orders. “The army will not march,” asserted Ney, their spokesman. “The army will obey me.” “The army will obey its chiefs,” replied the Prince of the Moskowa.39