Austerlitz: Napoleon and the Eagles of Europe (2 page)

The battlefield is a rewarding place to visit as there has been little dramatic change to the terrain in the intervening 200 years. It is as simple to explore all the key geographical features of the battle today as it is to imagine the armies of France, Russia and Austria marching across them in 1805. This is made even easier on each anniversary of the battle, when Napoleonic re-enactors from all over Europe congregate in bleak, cold, December weather, to recreate this momentous battle: the hills and fields echoing once more to the blast of musketry and cannon fire. The battlefield has survived into the twenty-first century without any significant intrusive development destroying our link with one of the most famous battles of the Napoleonic era. It must therefore be hoped that increasing international opposition will defeat NATO’s current plan to impose a highly visible radar station on the Pratzen Plateau, the key feature in Napoleon’s battle plan.

My first trip to Austerlitz and Dr Chandler’s on-site lecture fuelled my interest in the battle and set me on a research path that has finally led to this book, some sixteen years later, published appropriately to mark the 200th anniversary.

In completing this work I have been amazed by the enthusiasm and generosity I have encountered from people all over the world, many of whom I
know only through the medium of email. Without their willing responses to my regular requests for information and help this book would have taken a very different form. I therefore wish to extend my thanks to John Sloan, Steve Smith and Mark Conrad in the USA, who offered me sound advice on Russian sources. I received similar help from Alexander Mikaberidze and have used his excellent book,
The Russian Officer Corps in the Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars, 1792–1815
, as my source for the spelling of Russian names. Also in America, Kevin Kiley gave up much time to search for a copy of an elusive battle account for me. Special thanks go to Robert Goetz, with whom I have exchanged many long emails, as we bounced ideas off each other while exploring some of the less well-defined stages of the battle. From Russia I received more advice on primary Russian sources from Igor Popov and Vitali Bogdanov, and I am most grateful to Alexander Orlov, who sent me copies of many of these important documents. In the Czech Republic, Ond
ej Tupy provided me with a modern map of the Austerlitz battlefield and surrounding area, and also volunteered a number of translations for me. I gained access to many first-hand accounts through Robert Ouvrard in Austria. Also in Austria, I extend my thanks to my good friend Martin Worel, with whom I have spent many hours exploring the battlefields of Dürnstein and Austerlitz, and who also painstakingly produced a number of translations from German language material for me. On the subject of translation work, a very special acknowledgement is due to Anastasia Skoybedo in America, who cheerfully translated all my Russian documents, and without whose help this project would never have got off the ground. I also extend my thanks to Emma Golby in England, for her help with French translations. Elsewhere, here in England, I would like to thank Laurence Spring of the Russian Army Study Group for his help, and also Terry Crowdy, for his assistance on questions relating to the French army. As ever, Colin Ablett has been generous in granting extended access to books from his extensive library, and Dave Hollins has continued his long-term support for this project, pointing me in the direction of German language source material, answering questions relating to the Austrian army, and offering translations when needed. Rupert Harding, from my publisher, Pen & Sword, has been very supportive throughout the project – even at times when I was less than positive about meeting my deadlines – and has allowed the project to grow beyond its original confines. And finally, very special thanks go to Nicola, my partner. She has encouraged me and remained positive through all the ups and downs of this work. She has even been interested enough to read the manuscript and produce some translations too! To everyone:
merci, danke, spasibo, d
kuji
, thank you.

The Battle of Austerlitz is sometimes called the Battle of the Three Emperors, so called due to the presence on the battlefield of Napoleon, Alexander of Russia and Francis of Austria. To avoid confusion in the text I have referred throughout to Napoleon as emperor, Alexander as tsar and
Francis as kaiser. In the text I have retained the names of towns as they were in 1805. Since then many of these have changed: should any reader wish to follow the ebb and flow of the campaign on modern maps, I have compiled a list detailing old and new versions in
Appendix I
. An Order of Battle for Austerlitz may be found in
Appendix II
, which I have supplied for the reader’s convenience.

Ian Castle

London, February 2005

Chapter One

War and Peace

‘Eternal peace lasts only until the next year.’
*

On 17 December 1805 a breathless courier arrived in London bearing urgent despatches for the British government. His most trying journey from the ancient fortified town of Olmütz in Moravia had taken him fourteen days. Written by Sir Arthur Paget, Britain’s special envoy to the Habsburg court in Vienna, the despatch contained shocking news. It told of a great battle that had taken place on 2 December between a combined Russian–Austrian army and Napoleon’s Grande Armée. Vast financial subsidies approved by the British government of William Pitt had enabled the Russian and Austrian armies to march against Napoleon in 1805: the news contained in the despatch stunned Pitt and his cabinet. Paget’s letter explained that ‘after an obstinate resistance’ the centre of the Allied army was ‘completely put to rout’. The rest of Paget’s information was patchy, but of the Allied right wing he wrote, ‘it is probable that they have suffered considerably,’ and as to the fate of the left wing, he could offer ‘no satisfactory intelligence’. He concluded: ‘the army is retreating … and I fear for the present nothing more is to be hoped than that they have made a safe and effectual retreat.’
¹

This information shocked Pitt deeply. The great opponent of French expansion, who was in his second term as prime minister was already in ill-health. Having pored over the contents of the despatch, Government officials released an ambiguous statement to the Press later that same day. Within twenty-four hours
The Times
had converted Paget’s account of a crushing defeat into a victory:

‘A general battle took place on the 2nd [December], between the French and Austro-Russian armies, at Wischau [Paget did not mention Austerlitz in his despatch as he only got as far as Wischau before encountering retreating Russian soldiers]. The centre of the
latter seems to have met with great resistance, and to have been repulsed, but the left wing of the enemy was defeated with some considerable loss, by the right wing of the Allies under the command of the Princes Liechtenstein and Bagration. The Emperor Alexander commanded his troops in person, and displayed the utmost bravery. The conflict seems to have been of the most obstinate kind, and to have been sustained by the Allies in the most exemplary manner. The loss of the French was immense.’
²

The Times
remained adamant their interpretation stood true and the government did nothing to correct them. On 19 December the newspaper printed a letter from Amsterdam, dated 11 December, which claimed a French victory. But
The Times
contemptuously dismissed its veracity by stating the pro-French Batavian Government ‘will no more sanction the rumour of a defeat than the Government of Paris’.
³

Again, on 20 December,
The Times
expanded on the battle. New information arriving from Europe told of a great battle lasting three days, ‘fought with a vigour and obstinacy unparalleled in the annals of modern warfare, and terminated at length in favour of the Allied army’.
⁴

By now, however, contradictory statements were appearing in Continental newspapers, some of which managed to find their way to England. Amongst these accounts was Napoleon’s proclamation of 2 December, written on the battlefield of Austerlitz. It described a French victory of incredible enormity, of the Allies crushed, many thousands of prisoners taken, whole batteries seized, and numerous colours and standards captured and paraded before the emperor of the French. On 21 December, undaunted, the editor of
The Times
blasted the ‘extravagance of this intelligence’, writing:

‘Who is there that can believe that an army of 100,000 men [inflated figure given by Napoleon in the proclamation], and most of those Russian too, could be so completely annihilated in the course of four short hours? What could have so unnerved and paralysed the arms of such a multitude of hardy warriors, fighting under the eyes of their respective Sovereigns, as to make them surrender their throats to the swords, or their limbs to the chains of the enemy, without almost striking a blow? Was there ever a precedent of a battle, in which 100,000 men were drawn up on one side, being terminated in so short a space of time? … we cannot bring ourselves to attach to it the smallest degree of credit whatsoever.’
⁵

But – the exaggerated body-count notwithstanding – Bonaparte’s account was true. Ten days later, on 31 December 1805,
The Times
finally accepted ‘this disastrous intelligence’. Napoleon had crushed the Allies with devastating
effect. On the last day of the year – a year that had promised to see the old powers of Europe returned to pre-eminence – the editor, shocked by this turn of events wrote: ‘Incredible as this sudden termination of the war is, we are compelled to give it reluctant credit.’

So ended the Third Coalition formed against France. The main protagonists – Britain, Russia and Austria – had each played an active role in attempting to restrict the advance of France’s borders since the wars first began in 1792. Each previous attempt had also met with defeat.

William Pitt (‘the Younger’) served two terms in office as prime minister of Great Britain: the first in 1783 at the extraordinarily young age of twenty-four. At that time he did much to restore Britain’s confidence and prosperity in the years following the American Revolution. With the outbreak of the French Revolution, he determined to oppose the expansion of French power and influence. His preferred method was to attack French trade and colonies, while offering financial subsidies to Britain’s Continental allies, enabling them to speed their armies into the field. A small British army fought in Europe in 1794 and 1795 as part of the First Coalition, while another landed briefly in 1799 in support of the campaigns of Second Coalition. But Britain’s real strength lay in her navy. In 1798 a French-backed rebellion in Ireland caused Pitt to seek a solution to the government’s problems there. In January 1801 the resulting Act of Union brought Ireland into a United Kingdom with Great Britain, but Pitt’s move to complete the process, by granting voting rights to Roman Catholics, was blocked by his staunchest opponent, King George III. Feeling honour bound to deliver emancipation to the Catholics, Pitt resigned as prime minister in February 1801. His resignation ushered in the weak administration of Henry Addington.

While Pitt held office, the French made a number of unofficial attempts to open peace discussions in 1800, as the War of the Second Coalition drew to a close, but they were rebuffed. However, with Addington installed as prime minister, it was Britain’s turn to seek peace between the two nations. In March 1801 Britain sent its first formal overture to Napoleon Bonaparte, first consul of France. So began a tortuous round of proposals and counter proposals, which encompassed British and French possessions around the globe. With the Treaty of Amiens finally concluded in March 1802, all France and Britain rejoiced. Church bells rang out across the Continent announcing peace. For the first time in ten years the guns of Europe fell silent. But the politicians could see beyond the rejoicing. Addington’s negotiators were outmanoeuvred and made to look naïve. As one British agent reporting back from Paris put it: ‘they say everywhere that, after having gloriously sailed past the rocks that Bonaparte’s cunning had placed in its tracks, the British Ministry has completely foundered at the mouth of the harbour.’ France regained many of her colonies captured by the British in the recent wars and remained under
arms in Holland, renamed the Batavian Republic. But if the British government hoped her concessions would bring an end to France’s territorial ambitions they were sadly mistaken.