brück, Münster, Bremen, and Hamburg were capitals of French departments; the total number of such administrative divisions now reached 130. The mastery of such an empire with such an extent of sea-coast seemed to realize the dreams of the Revolution leaders, who in 1796 had determined to close the Continent to British commerce. By the two decrees of August 5 and October 18, 1810, issued respectively from the Trianon and from Fontainebleau, the system was apparently completed. English wares were seized wherever found, even within a limit four miles beyond the imperial borders in all directions; smugglers were mercilessly hunted down; and the holders of licenses alone could bring in colonial products. Frederick VI, King of Denmark, remembered the English outrage on Copenhagen in 1807, and was Napoleon's ardent supporter, closing the Danish and Norwegian ports against British commerce. He hoped by compliance to secure Sweden for his crown. Charles XIII of Sweden was also Napoleon's friend, but his people had not been exasperated like the Danes, and were independent. Their king being childless, the notables had cast about for a successor likely to please Napoleon, and had fixed upon Bernadotte! Endeared to all the Swedes by his considerate kindliness to the Pomeranians when commander of the French armies in that province, they remembered that he was King Joseph's brother-in-law, and believed that an old associate of Napoleon would, as their ruler, insure them high consideration and delicate treatment by the monarch of the great Western empire. The Emperor was, of course, secretly furious; but Bernadotte was too dangerous, too well informed, to be thwarted, and accordingly he became crown prince of Sweden. Desiring to compensate his new country for her loss of Finland, he asked for Norway; but Denmark could not be alienated, and the request was denied. Thwarted in this, the sometime Jacobin, but now heir apparent to a throne under the style of Charles John, began immediately after his installation at Stockholm to vent his spleen on Napoleon. The jealous and vigilant Czar offered, in December, 1810, the coveted domain in return for Sweden's alliance. Her steadfastness to the French alliance was thus rendered doubly insecure. THE INHERITANCE AND THE HEIR. It would be idle to suppose that during the winter of 1810-11 the Spanish situation was not thoroughly appreciated by the imperial bridegroom at Paris, or that he underrated the ultimate effects of what was taking place in the Iberian peninsula. Joseph was totally disenchanted, and, tormenting his brother with querulous criticism of the French troops, insisted upon a more pacific procedure. Napoleon's reply was to prepare an act of abdication for the King of Spain, and to announce that the country was to be made a French department. The Spanish people were thoroughly roused, and England redoubled her energies. Masséna had shown his brilliant qualities in the highest light throughout the Austrian campaign, and as the greatest of the marshals was appointed to take command in Spain. With him went the imperial guard and other reinforcements, which brought the number of French troops in the peninsula to a total, on paper, of 80,000 men, of which about 50,000 were effective. By the arrival of a corps under Hill to reinforce Wellington, and including about 25,000 Portuguese, the latter had approximately the same number. The Peninsular campaign of 1810 opened in June by Masséna's appearance before Ciudad Rodrigo, which, after a stubborn resistance of about five weeks, surrendered on July 10. The French next beleaguered the strong frontier fortress of Almeida, and that also fell about the beginning of September. Wellington conducted his retreat, which was thus enforced, with great skill, defeating an attack made on his rear-guard at Busaco on September 27. Masséna still pressed on, but on October 9 was, unexpectedly to himself, brought to a stand before the impregnable lines of Torres Vedras, long since constructed by Wellington to protect Lisbon. Soult, having won a decisive victory over the Spaniards at Ocaña on November 19, 1809, had advanced into Andalusia. His orders were to unite with Masséna for an overwhelming effort. But, sullen because superseded by Masséna, he began a weary, ineffectual siege of Cadiz, and remained there until, having received a virtual reprimand from Napoleon, he took half his force and captured Badajoz. Even then he failed to join Masséna. The news that his two greatest marshals had successively come short in their tasks embittered Napoleon to the verge of desperation. But the annexation of the North Sea coast had involved him in a diplomatic conflict with Russia, his domestic affairs occupied him for the moment to the exclusion of everything not immediately pressing, and he failed to reinforce Masséna. Throughout the winter both the French and the English generals maintained themselves only by the exercise of qualities akin to genius. Soult returned from Badajoz to Cadiz, and in March Masséna began a retreat into Spain. Thereupon the English besieged Badajoz, and on May 5 defeated Masséna at Fuentes de Onoro in one of the bitterest conflicts of the war. The old marshal was recalled in disgrace, and replaced by Marmont. On May 16, Soult, advancing to relieve Badajoz, was defeated in a pitched battle at Albuera; but the victory proved an empty one for the English, since Wellington, hearing that French reinforcements were coming up from Salamanca, felt constrained to withdraw before superior force, and decamped on June 18. The rest of 1811 was a season of inactivity, except for the exploits of Suchet, who annihilated Blake's army, capturing Valencia and occupying Aragon. In the following season Wellington captured both Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz; advancing then, he overwhelmed Marmont in the brilliant victory of Salamanca on July 22, 1812, and marched on Madrid to dethrone Joseph. Soult at once abandoned Cadiz and hurried north, while Marmont took possession of Burgos. The British soldiers, finding themselves between two foes, became demoralized. Wellington was forced by the chaos of English politics to retreat into Portugal, and at the close of the year the French held all Spain except the south coast. But in spite of their inglorious successes the soldiers were dispirited; regiments melted away under desertion and sickness, and the military power of France in Spain was annihilated. The peninsula was never to be French. Yet in some respects the French character appeared in a stronger light throughout the disasters of the Peninsular war than at any other time. Marbot's tale of the beautiful young cantinière, or woman sutler, of the 26th regiment, who after Busaco rushed unhurt through the English outposts to alleviate the sufferings of Simon, the general of her brigade, who had been captured, and who returned on her donkey through the lines without having suffered an insult, reflects equal credit on the unselfish daring of the French, which she typified, and on the pure-minded gallantry of the English. His narrative of the French deserters who, under a leader nicknamed Marshal Stockpot, established themselves as freebooters in a convent not far from Masséna's headquarters at Santarem, and of the general's swift, condign punishment of such conduct, graphically delineates the straits of the French, which led them into the extreme courses which devastated the land, and also displays the quality of the discipline which was exercised whenever possible. Nor should it be forgotten that the two most splendid writers of France's succeeding age were profoundly impressed by the terrible scenes of the French invasion. George Sand was in Madrid as an infant for a considerable portion of 1808; Victor Hugo passed the year 1811 in a Madrid school, fighting childish battles for «the great Emperor,» whom his Spanish schoolmates called Napoladron (Napo the robber). The former was irresistibly drawn to revisit the country; the latter recalled his impressions in some of his noblest verse. It would be idle to believe that Napoleon did not fully realize the situation in Spain; it is gratuitous to assume that by massing all his resources he could not have made a desert in Spain to call it a peace. But before devastating what he intended to make part of his empire, he thought to cut away the British support from beneath the rebellion. The credit of Great Britain could not long be maintained with her contraband trade paralyzed, and her costly expeditions to Holland, Sicily, and Spain either failures or but partial successes. Her collapse would be assured if the Czar would only remain true to the engagements of Tilsit, since the only channel for British trade to enter the Continent was now through Russia. It is true that the finances of France herself were at a low ebb, but the Emperor had money in abundance. When the legislative assembly met in December, 1809, it was clear that the farce of constitutional imperialism was nearly played out. The members of the senate kept their seats by their own decree; an imperial edict appointed the deputies for the new departments without the form of an election. By an article of the new penal code the confiscation of estates was made the penalty for certain crimes. This was enforced, the public canals were sold to private corporations, and the sanction of legislative ratification was given to such acts. The moneys thus obtained, together with the vast contributions and indemnities received from foreign states, were really a corruption fund. The enormous armies, which covered Europe like swarms of locusts, were admirably maintained; but it was hard to find money for the purpose, because the marshals and generals were insatiate in their demands. The greed of the civil administrators was scarcely less; and thus, in both branches of the public service, every official stood with outstretched palm and hungry eyes. |