On 3 May 1815, a Frenchman and an Austrian met at the Three Kings Inn in Basel. The Frenchman, Pierre Fleury de Chaboulon, was a secret agent of Napoleon. The Austrian, travelling under the assumed name of Henry Werner, was in fact the Baron von Ottenfels, one of Metternich’s most trusted subordinates. Their mission could not have been more sensitive. After a year of peace, its purpose was to prevent a renewal of war between France and the allied powers.
The immediate cause of the crisis was one of the most spectacular reversals of fortune in modern history—the Hundred Days. On 26 February 1815, Napoleon had escaped from Elba, and landed three days later in the south of France, with just a thousand men, in a daring bid to regain his throne. He then marched north, taking care to avoid central Provence, where he had so nearly been lynched the previous spring. At first it seemed impossible that such a risky gamble could succeed. However, this ignored the fact that the restored Bourbon monarchy had, in less than a year, managed to alienate much of the army. At every stage of Napoleon’s route the troops sent to apprehend him instead rallied to him enthusiastically, along with significant sections of the local population. After Lyons feU to him on 10 March, without a shot being fired, his progress became irresistible. On the night of the 19th March, Louis XVIII fled Paris for the Belgian border, and twenty-four hours later Napoleon entered the capital to a delirious welcome.1
The news of Napoleon’s escape from Elba reached the allied monarchs and their ministers at the Congress of Vienna, which had opened six months before to decide the shape of post-war Europe. Their presence together in one place enabled them to react quickly. On 13 March, a week before Napoleon reached Paris, they issued a proclamation branding him an
Outlaw, ‘beyond the pale of civil society’. It was written by Talleyrand, who was at the congress as Louis XVIII’s representative. If Talleyrand had indeed contemplated assassinating Napoleon in April 1814, he was now condoning it in a public declaration. Placing Napoleon outside the law in this way in effect permitted anybody to murder him and to face no legal consequences. Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia also began preparing for war. On 25 March, they renewed the treaty of Chaumont of the previous year, mobilizing 150,000 men each for the common cause and pledging to make no separate peace with France.2
If Napoleon wanted to preserve his throne and even his life, he urgently needed to persuade the Powers that he was no longer a threat. On 4 April, he sent them a circular letter assuring them of his peaceful intentions. He even accepted what he had fought so hard to avoid in 1814, France’s return to her pre-revolutionary borders. The Bourbons had consented to this as the price of their restoration, and reopening the question would unite the whole of Europe against him. Napoleon also sought to prove that he had abandoned any idea ofruling France as a dictator. On 22 April, he issued the ‘Additional act to the constitutions of the empire’, which dramatically limited his former authority. No taxation or conscription would be legal without the consent ofparliament, censorship would be abolished, and the electorate would be enlarged. Whether Napoleon would have maintained these concessions, or revoked them at the first opportunity, is impossible to know.3
Of all the Powers ranged against him, the one most likely to listen to Napoleon’s overtures was Austria. She had made great efforts to broker a compromise peace in 1813 and 1814, and could perhaps be persuaded to revive them as an alternative to further conflict. She also controlled Napoleon’s future, since his wife and son were currently living in Vienna under Francis I’s protection. If Napoleon failed to secure their return to France, his dynasty would be doomed. Yet his own obstinacy had ruined Austria’s previous attempts to rescue him, and it remained very unclear whether she would be prepared to do so again. If she tried once more and failed, she would alienate her allies and face complete isolation.
An occasion soon arose for Napoleon to test the waters. As soon as he was back in Paris he formed a ministry composed of faithful servants: Camba-ceres as justice minister, Caulaincourt at foreign affairs, and Bassano as secretary of state. A notable exception was the veteran intriguer Fouche, disgraced in 1810 for unauthorized peace talks with England, and now
Restored to the ministry of police. In late April, without informing Napoleon, Fouche received a secret emissary from Metternich, an employee of the powerful Viennese bankers Arnstein and Eskeles. Caulaincourt got
Wind of the mission and alerted Napoleon, but was unable to find out its Precise purpose.
This development offered Napoleon the opportunity he had been seeking for establishing communications with Metternich. The luckless Austrian emissary was arrested and interrogated. He revealed that he had given Fouche a letter, and a verbal message that an agent of Metternich’s named Henry Werner would arrive in Basel on i May to receive a response. With typical audacity, Napoleon decided to substitute for Fouche’s envoy one of his own, who would travel to Basel and investigate the intrigue before Metternich realized he had been duped. As long as the ruse secured a first meeting, it mattered little if Metternich subsequently realized the trick. If he genuinely wished for peace with France, he would be happy to have established direct contact with Napoleon; if not, valuable insight into his plans would have been gained. Either way, Napoleon himself would lose nothing.
For this delicate task, Napoleon chose Pierre Fleury de Chaboulon. It was a shrewd decision. Fleury de Chaboulon was a middle-ranking civil servant who as sub-prefect of Rheims in 1814 had organized an effective local resistance to the allied invasion. More recently, he had played an important role in preparing Napoleon’s return from Elba. In February 1815, Bassano, then living in retirement in Paris, had sent him to Elba with a message that the Bourbons were deeply unpopular and that their overthrow was feasible. It was this information that had decided Napoleon to embark for France. Fleury had then crossed to the Italian mainland to deliver some secret messages for Napoleon, before catching up with him on his march to Paris.5
In memoirs he wrote only four years after the event, Fleury gave a detailed account of his mission to Basel. His instructions, he recalled, were clear. First, he was to find out whether Metternich and Fouche were actually plotting to assassinate Napoleon. If this was not the case, Napoleon ordered Fleury ‘to inform M de Metternich of my position and of my peaceful dispositions, and to try and bring about a rapprochement between myself and Austria’. On 3 May, Fleury arrived at the Three Kings Inn, to find Ottenfels, waiting for him. It quickly became clear that Metternich had no intention of having Napoleon assassinated; Ottenfels
Expressed horror at the very thought. The plan was simply to capture him in a coup d’etat, and restore the Bourbons once more.6
This disclaimer enabled Fleury to move the conversation forward, test the strength of Austria’s commitment to the Bourbons, and—very gingerly—raise the possibility of reconciliation with Napoleon. He insisted that the Bourbons had lost what support they once enjoyed, that it was the French people, not just the army, who had welcomed Napoleon back, and that they would fight rather than see him dethroned again. This shocked Ottenfels, since Fouche, who had ostensibly sent Fleury, was assumed to detest Napoleon. Ottenfels enquired whether, instead of Napoleon, France might accept either the regency, or a monarchy with the duc d’Orleans as king. Yet Fleury remained adamant: ‘The only leader we want is Napoleon; not the conquering, ambitious Napoleon, but Napoleon tamed by adversity.’ Ottenfels replied that he would take these views back to Metternich, and the two men agreed to meet again in eight days’ time.7
Fleury’s recollections of the meeting, however, are not entirely accurate. In particular, the Austrians were far less wedded to the Bourbons than he states. Metternich’s instructions to Ottenfels make it clear that from the start he was quite prepared to replace them either by the duc d’Orleans or the regency. He was well aware of Louis XVIII’s mistakes, especially the favour he had shown to the unpopular returning emigres. If Louis was to return, he would have to make a fresh start. The allies, Metternich wrote, ‘wish to help resolve the national question by marginalizing the emigre's and removing the obstacles that the king’s entourage have put in the way of his reconciliation with the new order in France’.8
Metternich’s lack of enthusiasm for Louis XVIII was underlined by his willingness to consider the merits of Louis’ more liberal cousin the duc d’Orleans, though this may also reflect his awareness that Orleans was strongly rumoured to be Fouche’s choice. Metternich backed this up with a remarkable promise: if the French wanted Orleans as their king, he wrote, ‘the Powers will act as intermediaries to ensure that [Louis XVIII] and his line give up their own claim to the throne.’ As for the regency, Metternich made it clear that Austria would not oppose this, though she was concerned that this could involve her too closely in French domestic affairs. The only completely unacceptable solution was Napoleon keeping his throne: Ot-tenfels was to transmit ‘the Powers’ firm resolution to have no dealings with Napoleon Bonaparte because they feel there would be no security in any transaction with him’.
Fleury immediately returned to Paris to report the outcome of the meeting. Napoleon was encouraged by the fact that it had actually taken place, despite Austria’s refusal to recognize his own rule. He suspected that this might not be her last word, but the first stage in a negotiation, and authorized Fleury to continue. It also turned out that in Fleury’s absence Fouche, suspecting his intrigue with Metternich had been discovered, had made a clean breast of it to Napoleon, claiming that his only purpose had been to divide Austria from her allies. When Fleury went back to Basel, therefore, he was able to carry genuine letters from Fouche which removed any doubts that he might be an imposter.10
Meanwhile in Vienna, Fleury’s words as recounted by Ottenfels had made an impression. Metternich’s instructions for the next meeting contained no mention of either Louis XVIII or the duc d’Orleans. The veto on Napoleon continuing to rule was maintained, but in exchange the regency was explicitly endorsed: ‘The Powers would not refuse their consent to the regency, if it was the preference adopted by the [French] nation.’ As for Napoleon, he would be assigned ‘a place of residence from where he could no longer trouble the world’.11 No actual location was mentioned, but it was no doubt intended to be further away from mainland Europe than Elba. Still, it is unlikely that as the father of the new Emperor of the French, Napoleon would have been exiled to somewhere as remote as St Helena.
Most important, these instructions were signed not only by Metternich, but by Nesselrode on behalf of the Czar. This made the offer of the regency virtually official. Russia and Austria were the two major continental Powers; if they made peace with France on this basis, England and Prussia would have no incentive to fight on to impose either Louis XVIII or the duc d’Orleans. The clock had been wound back almost exactly a year to April 1814, when Napoleon had been faced with abdicating in favour of his son. This time, however, Alexander was not wavering, but actively supporting this solution. Now, as then, Napoleon himself was beyond the pale, but his dynasty was being given a chance of survival.
To add weight to the proposal, Metternich told Ottenfels that he could, if necessary, show Fleury the instructions signed by Nesselrode and himself at the next meeting. This took place in another inn at Basel, The Stork, on the afternoon of 15 May. Ottenfels did not in fact produce the instructions, but his words, as Fleury recalled them, were unambiguous:
The sovereigns feel that they cannot alter their resolution never to recognize Napoleon as ruler of France nor to enter into any negotiation with him; but at the same time I am authorized to declare formally to you that they give up their intention of restoring the Bourbons to the throne, and that they consent to give you the young Prince Napoleon. They know that France hoped for the regency in 1814, and they are happy to fulfil this wish now.
Naturally, the question of Napoleon’s own fate caused heated discussion. Ottenfels insisted that his exile would be comfortable and not rigorous. ‘You can be certain’, he told Fleury, ‘that Napoleon wiU be treated with the respect due to his rank, his marriage to a Habsburg, and his misfortune.’ This did not pacify Fleury. ‘I see’, he riposted, ‘that the allies want Napoleon handed over to them bound hand and foot: the French would never stoop to such treachery.’ He then attempted to reassure Ottenfels that Napoleon was no longer to be feared as in the past. Napoleon, he claimed, ‘was no longer the absolute master he had been before; he had also become fat and flabby, heavy and sluggish, slept a great deal, and realized that what he needed now was peace and quiet’. This is further evidence that Napoleon’s physical decline, whether from a pituitary condition or some other cause, had become obvious to those close to him.13
Psychologically, however, it soon became clear that Napoleon had not changed at aU. When Fleury brought the Austro-Russian proposal back to him, he saw it not as an opportunity for compromise, but as a sign of weakness. ‘These gentlemen’, he remarked, ‘are starting to come round, since they’re offering me the regency; my firmness is making them respect me. In a month I’U no longer fear them.’ This impression was reinforced by the allied declaration published on 12 May, between Fleury’s first and second meetings with Ottenfels, stating that they would not impose the Bourbons on France against her wiU. Napoleon took this as further proof that the Powers now favoured the regency. ‘Well, gentlemen,’ he announced to his courtiers, ‘they’re already offering me the regency; it’s up to me whether to accept it or not.’14
Ottenfels’ mission thus had the opposite effect from the one intended. Instead of persuading Napoleon to make way for his son, it encouraged him to raise the stakes. Fleury and Ottenfels had arranged to meet again on i June, but Napoleon was reluctant to let Fleury go. What he needed now to secure his position, he felt, was a military victory, not further negotiations. He was also sure that his determination not to abdicate was now clear to Metternich, and that the secret discussions would be suspended. He was
Quite right; Fleury did return to Basel on i June, but Ottenfels never appeared.15
A fortnight later Napoleon led his troops into Belgium to confront the nearest allied army, the Anglo-Prussian force commanded by Wellington and Blucher. Yet his own obstinacy had already sealed his fate. Even had he defeated the armies facing him, he could never have won the war. Though he refused to accept it, the allies were determined to force him from his throne, and one French victory would not have shaken them. They could mobilize a million men, and Napoleon could muster at best half that number. As he was invading Belgium, Schwarzenberg was marching 210,000 Austrians to the Rhine, followed by 150,000 Russians. Had the
War continued, thousands more soldiers and civilians would have died to no Purpose.
Curiously neglected by history, the Ottenfels mission offered Napoleon his best hope of avoiding this grim prospect. He would have had to step down, but his young son would have taken his place, with Marie-Louise acting as regent until his majority. Even the Czar now conceded that this regime offered France a better chance of stability than a second Bourbon restoration. Prussia would have followed his lead, and England, although sympathetic to Louis XVIII, could not have challenged the combined will of her continental allies. Naturally, Austria had a family interest in the regency’s success. Yet Napoleon preferred to destroy his dynasty rather than relinquish his grip on power.
Napoleon’s defeat was now a foregone conclusion, and the end was quick. The issue was decided in four dramatic and bloody days. Napoleon took the offensive on 15 June. Wellington and Bliicher outnumbered him by 209,000 to 125,000, but their forces were scattered and separated by a gap in the centre. Napoleon aimed to exploit this gap, move between them, and defeat them one after the other. It was a brilliant strategy, and it nearly worked. By the next day Napoleon had split Wellington from Bliucher, and turned the main weight of his army on the Prussians. In a hard-fought battle at Ligny, Bliicher was forced to retreat with heavy losses. He himself was unhorsed and ridden over twice during a cavalry charge, and was extremely lucky not to be killed or captured. Napoleon was now free to march west and overwhelm Wellington.
Yet appearances were deceptive. The Prussians had been beaten but not destroyed, and soon rallied. Bliucher, having treated his bruises by rubbing himself all over with garlic, was determined to keep the agreement he had
Previously made with Wellington, that each would aid the other if attacked. Within a day, he had re-formed his troops and was leading them south-west towards his ally. Meanwhile, Wellington had taken up a strong position on a low ridge south of the village of Waterloo.17 At 11.30 a. m. on 18 June, the battle began. Throughout the day Napoleon was lethargic and indecisive. He may have been crippled by a bout of haemorrhoids, as his brother jerome, who was there, later claimed.18 Equally, his lassitude may have been a further symptom of a pituitary disorder. Napoleon attempted no brilliant manoeuvres, but simply launched his forces in clumsy frontal assaults on Wellington’s line.
With 140,000 men and 400 guns crammed onto a front only 1,500 yards long, the result was a bloodbath. By 7 p. m. both sides were exhausted. At this critical moment the Prussians arrived on the battlefield, menacing the French right flank and rear. Napoleon now took the last gamble of his military career and sent forward the Imperial Guard, hoping to smash the depleted British line before Bliicher could link up with it. The Prussian advance, however, took some of the pressure off Wellington and enabled him to plug some dangerous gaps in his front in the nick of time. As the Imperial Guard neared the crest of the ridge it was met by withering volleys of musketry at a range of twenty yards from the Brigade of Guards and the 52nd Regiment. Its three columns halted, wavered, and finally broke. Wellington ordered a general advance, and the demoralized French army began to disintegrate. Within minutes it was in full flight.19
Napoleon himself was almost captured by the Prussian cavalry, but managed to flee south, outdistancing his retreating army. He arrived back in Paris at dawn on 21 June. He could have fought on, but only by decreeing a popular mobilization and draconian emergency measures on the model of 1793 and 1794. With his ghastly memories of the Revolution, Napoleon refused to do this. On 22 June, he abdicated once again. He then fled to Rochefort on the west coast, hoping to take ship for America. By this time, however, a British naval squadron was already in place outside the port. On 15 July, accepting the inevitable, Napoleon and his entourage surrendered to Captain Maitland of HMS Bellerophon.
The fact that it was Wellington who had crushed Napoleon and was now advancing across the French border also sealed Louis XVIII’s restoration. Wellington, like his government, was convinced that only the return ofthe Bourbons was compatible with the peace of Europe. He invited Louis, in exile nearby at Ghent, to follow him into France, and the old king, who had
Feared he would not be given a second chance to rule, was happy to oblige. On 8 July, he re-entered the capital. In the short-term, his dash for Paris behind Wellington’s army secured his throne. In the long-term, it associated him durably with foreign invasion and national humiliation.
World History
