Success crowned the efforts of the elated Gascon. The Czar, with the prospect of a French invasion at his door, was delighted beyond measure to find in Sweden an ally instead of a foe. In August, 1812, he invited the Crown Prince to Russia and the treaty of Åbö was signed, whereby Russia promised to lend her aid to Sweden to gain Norway as the price of her help against France; a little later a treaty was concluded between England and Sweden. The Crown Prince returned from Åbö full of relief; not only was he now received into the inner circle of legitimate sovereigns, but the Czar had actually volunteered that if Napoleon fell "I would see with pleasure the destinies of France in your hands." Alexander had kindled a flame which never died as long as Bernadotte lived. The remainder of his life might be summed up as an effort to gain the crown of France, followed by a period of vain regrets at the failure of his hopes.
On returning to Stockholm the Crown Prince found himself surrounded by a crowd of cosmopolitan admirers, the most important of whom was Madame de Staël, who regarded him as the one man who could restore France to prosperity. His flatterers likened him to Henry IV. and harped on the fact that he also came from Béarn. But in France men cursed the traitorous Frenchman who was going to turn his sword against his country, and his name was expunged from the list of the Marshals and from the rolls of the Senate, while the Emperor bitterly regretted that he had not sent him to learn Swedish at Vincennes, the great military prison. When, in accordance with his treaty obligations, early in 1813 the Crown Prince of Sweden landed at Stralsund to take part in the war against Napoleon, his position was a difficult one. The one object of the Allies was to overthrow Napoleon, the one object of the Crown Prince was to become King of France on Napoleon's fall. The Allies therefore had to beat the French troops, but the Crown Prince would ruin his hopes if French soldiers were beaten by the troops under his command. It was clear that Napoleon could only be overcome by the closest co-operation of all the Allies. Accordingly the Czar and the King of Prussia summoned the Crown Prince to a conference at Trachenberg in Silesia and did their best to gratify his pride. The plan of campaign was then arranged, and the Prince returned to command the allied forces in Northern Germany. At St. Helena the Emperor declared that it was Bernadotte who showed the Allies how to win by avoiding all conflict with himself and defeating the Marshals in detail. With great bitterness he added, "He gave our enemies the key to our policy, the tactics of our armies, and showed them the way to the sacred soil of France." Be this as it may, his conduct during the campaign justified the suspicion with which he was regarded by friend and foe. Only three times did the Prince's army come in contact with the forces of the Emperor. At Grosbeeren and Dennewitz, where his divisional officers fought and won, the Prince kept discreetly in the rear. At Leipzig he held back so long that the French army very nearly escaped. It was the taunt of his chief of the staff, "Do you know that the soldiers say you are afraid and do not dare to advance?" which at last forced him into battle. But while thus he offended his allies, he gained no respect from his former countrymen. He had always believed that his presence alone was sufficient to bring over the French troops to his side, but his first attempt ought to have shattered this delusion. At Stettin, during the armistice, he entered the fortress and tried to seduce the governor, an ex-Jacobin and erstwhile friend. As he left the town a cannon was fired and a ball whistled past his ear. He at once sent a flag of truce to demand an explanation for this breach of the etiquette of war, whereon his friend the ex-Jacobin replied, "It was simply a police affair. We gave the signal that a deserter was escaping and the mainguard fired." In spite of this warning and many other indications, Bernadotte failed to understand how completely he had lost his influence in France, and while the Allies were advancing on Paris his secret agents were busy, especially in Southern France, trying to win the people to his cause. Keeping well in the rear of the invading armies, he entirely neglected his military duties and passed his time listening to the reports of worthless spies. The result of his intrigues was that he quite lost touch with the trend of events at the front, and when Paris fell, instead of being on the spot, he was far away. The Czar, long disgusted with his delays, no longer pressed his suit, and finding an apparent desire for a Bourbon restoration, accepted the return of that house. So when the Crown Prince came to Paris he found nothing for it but to make his best bow to the Bourbons and slink away home to gain what comfort he could in the conquest of Norway. Thus once again was Sièyes' saying proved correct: "He is a blackbird who thinks himself an eagle."
On his return home his Swedish subjects gave their Crown Prince a very warm welcome. They knew of none of his intrigues or tergiversations, they only saw in him the victorious conqueror of Napoleon, who, by his successful campaigns, was bringing peace and prosperity to Sweden, by his diplomacy had acquired Norway, and by his clever huckstering had gained twenty million francs for ceding to France the isle of Guadaloupe, of which Sweden had never taken possession, and another twelve millions for parting with the lost Pomeranian provinces. But in spite of his popularity at home the Crown Prince had much to make him anxious abroad. At the Congress of Vienna a strong party backed the claims of the deposed Gustavus IV., and it was only the generous aid of the Czar which defeated this conspiracy. Further, the attitude of the Powers clearly showed him how precarious was the position of an intruder among the hereditary rulers of Europe. Consequently, when Napoleon returned from Elba the Prince exclaimed: "The cause of the Bourbons is for ever lost," and for a moment thought of throwing in his lot with the Emperor. But the sudden defeat of Murat came as a warning, and he hastened to offer the aid of twenty-six thousand troops to the Allies. Though outwardly in accord with them, the Crown Prince secretly hoped for the victory of Napoleon; to his intimates he proclaimed that "Napoleon was the first captain of all ages, the greatest human being who had ever lived, superior to Hannibal, to Cæsar, and even to Moses." Whereat the Crown Princess, who had at last rejoined her husband in Sweden, replied: "You ought to exclude Moses, who was the envoy of God, whereas Napoleon is the envoy of the Devil."
The news of Waterloo once again drove the Prince's ideas into their old current. Surely France must now recognise that he alone could save her; but the second restoration dashed his hopes to the ground. Yet hope springs eternal in the human breast, and Bernadotte, year by year, watched the trend of French politics with an anxious eye. Even as late as the Revolution of 1830 he still thought it was possible that France might call him to be her ruler, and he never lost the chance of doing the Bourbons an ill-turn. In spite of these intrigues, save for an appeal lodged in 1818 against the high-handed conduct of the Quadruple Alliance in interfering between Sweden and Denmark, Bernadotte's European career really ended with the fall of Napoleon. As Charles XIV. he ascended the Swedish throne on February 18, 1818, on the death of his adoptive father. As King he pursued the same policy as Crown Prince, alliance with Russia. His internal policy was based on the principle of maintaining his dynasty at all costs. With this object, in Sweden he ruled more or less as a benevolent despot, consulting his States General as little as possible, paying the greatest attention to commerce and industry, and opening up the mines and waterways of the country. In Norway, however, where the Storthing had long enjoyed great powers, he ruled as a liberal constitutional monarch, and with such good fortune did he and his successors pursue their policy that of all the diplomatic expedients arranged at the Congress of Vienna, the cession of Norway to Sweden stood the test of time the longest, and it was not till 1906 that the principle of nationality was at last enforced in Scandinavia.
Though Charles XIV. made no attempt to interfere in European politics, the princes of Europe could never shake off their dislike of him, standing as he did as the one survival of Napoleon's system. When the time came for his son Oscar to seek a bride, the Swedish proposals were met with scorn in Denmark and Prussia, and even in Mecklenburg-Anhalt and Hesse-Cassel. As the Austrian envoy at the Swedish court whispered to his English colleague, "All Europe would see the fall of these people here without regret." Consequently the Swedish King was driven to seek a bride for his son from Napoleon's family, and eventually the young Prince married the daughter of Eugène Beauharnais, the old ex-Viceroy of Italy, Napoleon's stepson.
Charles XIV., a man of regrets, spent the remainder of his life buried in the memories of the past. He seldom got up till late in the day, dictating his letters and receiving his ministers in bed. When he was dressed, he spent some hours going over his private affairs and revising his investments, for he feared to the end that he might be deprived of his crown. In the evening he entertained the foreign representatives and held his courts, after which he passed the small hours of the night with his particular cronies fighting and re-fighting his battles, and proving how he alone could have saved Europe from the misery of the Napoleonic wars. He died on March 3rd, 1844, at the age of eighty, having given his subjects the precious boon of twenty-five years of peace.
In spite of his brilliant career, Bernadotte must ever remain one of the most pathetic figures in history. He stands convicted as a mere opportunist, a man who never once possessed his soul in peace and who was incapable of understanding his own destiny. So much was this the case that in his latter days the old Jacobin, now a crowned King, really believed he was speaking the truth when he said that along with Lafayette he was the only public man, save the Count of Artois, who had never changed since 1789. He saw no inconsistency between the declaration of his youth, "that royalty was a monster which must be mutilated in its own interest," and his speech as an old man to the French ambassador, "If I were King of France with an army of two or three hundred thousand men I would put my tongue out at your Chamber of Deputies." He was Gascon to the backbone, and his tongue too often betrayed his most secret and his most transient thoughts. For the moment he would believe and declare that "Napoleon was not beaten by mere men … he was greater than all of us … the greatest captain who has appeared since Julius Cæsar… If, like Henry IV., he had had a Sully he would have governed empires." Then, thinking of himself as Sully, he would gravely add, "Bonaparte was the greatest soldier of our age, but I surpassed him in powers of organisation, of observation and calculation." Yet with it all he had many of the qualities which go to make a man great. His personal magnetism was irresistible, he had consummate tact, a keen eye for intrigue, a clear vision to pierce the mazes of political tangles, and considerable strength of purpose backed by an intensely fiery nature. Frank and generous, he inclined naturally to a liberal policy, but his innate selfishness too often conquered his generous principles. It was this conflict between his liberal ideas and his personal interest which caused that fatal hesitation which again and again threatened to spoil his career and which made him so immensely inferior to Napoleon. To gain his crown he willingly threw over his religion and became a Lutheran; to keep his crown he was ready to sacrifice his honour. As a Swedish monarch he thought more of the interests of his dynasty than of the interests of his subjects, but he was far too wily to show this in action. Posing as a patriot King and boasting of his love for his adopted country, he ever remained at heart a Frenchman.
When in 1840 the remains of the great Emperor were transferred to Paris, he mournfully exclaimed to his representative: "Tell them that I who was once a Marshal of France am now only a King of Sweden."
V
JEAN DE DIEU NICOLAS SOULT, MARSHAL, DUKE OF DALMATIA
Of all the Marshals of Napoleon, perhaps none is better known to Englishmen than Jean de Dieu Soult. His long service in the Peninsula, ending with the stern fighting in the Pyrenees and the valley of the Garonne, and the prominent part he took in French politics during the years of the Orleanist monarchy, made his name a household word in England. The son of a small notary of St. Amand, a little-known town in the department of the Tarn, Soult was possessed of all the fervour of the South and the cunning and tenacity of a Gascon. Born on March 29, 1769, he early distinguished himself by his precocity and his quickness of perception. Although handicapped by a club-foot he determined to be a soldier, and at the age of sixteen he enlisted in the Royal Infantry regiment. His intelligence marked him out for the rank of sergeant, and in 1791 he was sent as sub-lieutenant and drill instructor to a battalion of volunteers of the Haut Rhin. In spite of his lameness and his slight frame, the young sub-lieutenant was possessed of a physique capable of withstanding the greatest fatigue and hardship, and spurred on by ambition, he never shirked a task which might add to his reputation. Consequently, he was soon chosen captain by his comrades, and once war broke out he speedily rose. At the battle of Kaiserslautern, the storm of the lines of Weissenburg and the siege of Fort Louis, he forced himself to the front by his gallantry and his rapid coup d'œil. But it was the battle of Fleurus which once and for all established his reputation. Soult was by then colonel and chief of the staff to General Lefèbvre. The gallant Marceau's battalions were hurled back in rout by the enemy, and their chief in agony rushed up to Lefèbvre crying out for four battalions of the reserve that he might regain the ground he had lost. "Give them to me," he exclaimed, "or I will blow out my brains." Soult quietly observed that he would thereby only the more endanger his troops. Marceau, indignant at being rebuked by a young staff officer, roughly asked, "And who are you?" "Whoever I am," replied Soult, "I am calm, which you are not: do not kill yourself, but lead your men to the charge and you shall have the four battalions as soon as we can spare them." Scarcely had he uttered these words than the Austrians fell with fury on Lefèbvre's division. For hours the issue hung in the balance, and at last even the stubborn Lefèbvre began to think of retreat. But Soult, calmly casting a rapid glance over the field, called out, "If I am not mistaken from what I judge of the enemy's second line, the Austrians are preparing to retreat." A few moments later came the order to advance from Jourdan, the commander-in-chief, and thanks to Soult's soundness of judgment, the divisions of Marceau and Lefèbvre were charging the enemy instead of fighting a rear-guard action to cover a rout. After the battle, the generous Marceau sought out Soult. "Colonel," said he, "forgive the past: you have this day given me a lesson I shall never forget. It is you in fact who have gained the battle." Soult had not long to wait for his reward, for in 1794 he was promoted general of brigade.
During the campaign of 1795 Soult was entrusted with a light column of three battalions of infantry and six squadrons of cavalry, and was constantly employed as an advance or rear guard. On one occasion, while covering the retreat at Herborn, his small force was surrounded by four thousand Austrian cavalry. Summoned to surrender, he indignantly refused, and forming his infantry in two columns with the cavalry in the interval between them, during five hours he beat off repeated charges of the enemies' horse and fought his way back to the main body without losing a single gun or a single colour. Ten days later he added to this triumph by inflicting the loss of two thousand men on the enemy in the mountain combat at Ratte Eig, when both sides struggled to gain the heights knee-deep in snow. During the campaigns of 1796 and 1797, Soult increased his reputation amid the marches and counter-marches and battles in the valleys of the Rhine and the Danube. But it was in Switzerland that he laid most firmly the foundation of his future success, for there he gained the friendship and goodwill of Masséna, and it was the conqueror of Zurich who first called Bonaparte's attention to the sterling qualities of the future Duke of Dalmatia, telling the First Consul that "for judgment and courage Soult had scarcely a superior." In 1800 Masséna took his trusty subordinate with him to Italy as lieutenant-general of the centre of the army. During the fierce struggle which ended in the Austrians driving the French into Genoa, the lieutenant-general was seen at his best, exposing his person in a way he seldom did later, and showing that strategic insight and power of organisation for which he was so celebrated. On one occasion, when cornered by Bellegarde, he was summoned to surrender. The Austrian parlementaire pointed out that it was hopeless to continue the struggle as he had neither provisions nor ammunition. To this Soult replied: "With bayonets and men who know how to use them, one lacks nothing," and in spite of every effort of the enemy, with the "white arm" alone he cut his way into Genoa. During the siege he was Masséna's right hand, ever ready with shrewd advice, the soul of every sortie, till unluckily he was wounded at the combat of Monte Cretto, and captured by the Austrians, whose prisoner he remained till after Marengo.
On the establishment of the Consulate, Soult, whose politics rested solely on personal ambition and not on principle, at once divined the aims of Bonaparte. Thanks to Masséna's warm introduction and his own reputation, he found himself cordially received by the First Consul. Honours were showered upon him. He was one of the four trusted commandants of the Consular Guard, and when Napoleon began to organise his forces for the struggle with England, he entrusted Soult with the command of the important army corps at Boulogne. The First Consul could have made no better selection. Under his rough exterior Soult hid great powers of business, a keen perspicacity, and much tact. Quick-witted, with a subtle, restless spirit, he had great strength of character, and his ambition spurred him on to a diligence which knew neither mental nor physical fatigue. But in spite of his cold air and self-restraint, he loved the pleasures of the table, and was passionately fond of women, while his wife exercised a complete domination over him, and before her he quailed like a child. In war he had the keen imagination and quick penetration of a great strategist. His special forte was the planning of vigorous enterprises. But he preferred to direct rather than to lead. Though his courage was undoubted, as he grew older he was chary of risking his person, and had not the dashing qualities of Lannes and Ney. As an administrator he was the equal of Davout. Once entrusted with the command of the army corps at Boulogne, the young general of thirty-five laid aside all thoughts of personal pleasure and ease and set himself to manufacture a fighting machine which should be the most perfect of its time. Never was such attention shown to details of administration and instruction, and the discipline of the corps at Boulogne was the severest that French troops had ever undergone. As might be expected, there were many grumbles, and soon rumours and complaints reached the First Consul, who himself remonstrated with his lieutenant, telling him that the troops would sink under such treatment; but he was greeted with the reply, "Such as cannot withstand the fatigue which I myself undergo will remain at the depôts: but those who do stand it will be fit to undertake the conquest of the world." Soult was right in his estimate, for in spite of the demands he made on their endurance, he had won their love and admiration; the weak and the grumblers fell out, and when war was declared his corps marched to the front, a body of picked men with absolute confidence in their leader. In spite of the fact that he had never held an independent command, there was no surprise when he was included among the number of the Marshals, for his brilliant record, his selection as commandant of the Guard, his success at Boulogne, and the favour which the First Consul had long shown to him, had marked him out as one of the coming men. The campaign of 1805 bore witness to the justness of the Emperor's choice. It has often been said, and indeed Wellington himself lent credit to the dictum, that Soult was primarily a strategist and no tactician, but at Austerlitz he showed that calm capacity to read the signs of the conflict, and that knowledge of when and where to strike, which had first brought him to the front in the days of Fleurus. Entrusted with the command of the centre, in spite of the entreaties of his subordinates and even the commands of the Emperor, he refused to open his attack until he saw that the Russian left was hopelessly compromised. Thanks to his clearness of foresight, when once he launched his attack he not only put the issue out of doubt, but completely overwhelmed the Russians. Their left was surrounded and annihilated while the centre and right were driven from the field in complete rout. At the moment when the Marshal was directing the movement which wrested from the enemy the key of the position, Napoleon and his staff arrived on the scene. The Marshal explained his manœuvre and asked the Emperor for orders. "Carry on, carry on, my dear Marshal," said the Emperor; "you know quite as well as I do how to finish the affair." Then, stretching out his arms to embrace him, he cried out, "My dear Marshal, you are the finest tactician in Europe." After the treaty of Pressburg Soult's corps remained as part of the army of occupation in the valley of the Danube, and in 1806 formed one of the corps of the Grand Army during the Prussian War. At Jena he had the satisfaction of playing an important part in the battle, for when Ney's rash advance had compromised the situation, it was he who checked the victorious rush of the enemy. But later the Marshal had bitter cause to repent these triumphs won over his rival. Already the enemy of Berthier, and consequently often misrepresented to the Emperor, Soult now incurred the bitter hatred of Ney; and what the enmity of Berthier and Ney meant he found to his cost during the Peninsular War. Immediately after Jena the Marshal was detached in pursuit of the Prussians, and on the day following defeated Marshal Kalkreuth at Greussen and proceeded to blockade Magdeburg. From Magdeburg he hurried off to join in the pursuit of Blücher, and aided by Bernadotte he cornered the crafty old Prussian at Lübeck. But brilliant as his performance was, he did not gain the credit he deserved, for on the day of the action Murat arrived and took over the command, arrogating to himself all the honours of the surrender. The Marshal was justly indignant, but, bitterly as he resented the injustice, he was too politic to storm at the Emperor like Marshal Lannes. In the terrible campaign in Poland the Marshal added to his laurels. At Eylau, when Augereau had been routed, Davout checked, and Ney and Bernadotte not yet arrived on the field, it was he who warned the Emperor against showing any signs of retreat. "Beware of doing so, Sire," he exclaimed; "let us remain the last on the field and we shall have the honour of the day: from what I have seen I expect the enemy will retreat in the night." The advice was sound, and the Marshal, during the night following the battle, had the pleasure of being the first to perceive that the enemy was retreating, and it was his aide-de-camp who carried the news to headquarters. Well it was for the Emperor that he accepted Soult's advice, for the terrible carnage in the snow had taken the heart out of the troops, and a retreat would have soon degenerated into a rout. So shaken was the French morale, that when, on the next day, the Emperor rode down the lines, instead of being greeted with cries of "Long live the Emperor," he was received with murmurs of "Peace and France," and even "Peace and Bread." During the final advance Soult had his share of the hard fighting at Heilsberg, but he escaped from the horrors of Friedland, as he had been detached to occupy Königsberg. After the peace of Tilsit, the Marshal's corps was cantonned round Stettin, and it was there that in 1808 he received the title of Duke of Dalmatia. The selection of this name caused the Duke much annoyance, for instead of receiving a title which should recall one of his great exploits, as had Ney, Davout, Lannes, Kellermann, and Masséna, his designation was chosen from a country with which he had not the smallest connection, and thus he found himself on a par with Bessières, Maret and Caulaincourt. What he hankered after was the title of Duke of Austerlitz, but the Emperor refused to share the glories of that day. In spite of the huge dotation he received, the Marshal added this supposed slight to the many grudges he bore his master.
From Stettin the Duke of Dalmatia was summoned in September, 1808, to attend the Conference at Erfurt, and from there he was hurriedly despatched to Spain. The Emperor was much displeased with many of his corps commanders, and so on the arrival of the Duke he ordered him to take over from Marshal Bessières the command of the second corps. Soult was delighted at the prospect of service. Full of zeal, he set out for his new command, and pushing on in spite of all obstacles, he arrived at his headquarters alone on a jaded post-horse twenty-four hours before his aides-de-camp. A few days later he dashed to pieces the semblance of a Spanish army at Gamoral and occupied Burgos, where he was unable to prevent his new command from sacking the town and inflicting every possible horror on the inhabitants. From Burgos the Emperor despatched him to the north-west, and thus it was that the cavalry of Sir John Moore's army surprised Soult's outpost at Sahagun. The Emperor could scarcely believe that an English army had actually dared to advance against his troops, but he at once ordered Soult to co-operate with the divisions he led in person from Madrid, and when he found that the English were bound to escape, he handed over the command to the Marshal. The French suffered almost as much as the English in the terrible pursuit, and it was the tried soldiers of both armies who at last met face to face at Corunna. After the battle Soult wrote to the Emperor that without fresh reinforcements he could effect nothing against the English, but when later he found that the enemy had evacuated Corunna, he claimed that he had won a victory. With a generosity that must be placed to his credit, he took great care of the grave of his adversary, Sir John Moore, and erected a monument with the inscription, "Hic cecidit Johannes Moore dux exercitus Britannici in pugna Januarii xvi. 1809, contra Gallos a duce Dalmatiæ ductos."
Before leaving for France the Emperor had drawn up a cut and dried plan for the systematic conquest of the whole Peninsula. The pivot of the whole scheme rested on the supposed ability of Soult to overrun Portugal and drive the British out of Lisbon by February 16, 1809. Unfortunately, Napoleon left one factor out of his calculations, and that the most important, namely, the feelings of the Spanish and Portuguese populations. The Duke of Dalmatia very soon perceived the Emperor's mistake, but, anxious not to be accused of shirking his task and of allowing himself to be stopped by what were termed bands of ill-armed peasants, he started on his expedition to conquer the kingdom of Portugal with but three thousand rounds for his guns and five hundred thousand cartridges for his infantry, carried on the backs of mules, for owing to the state of the roads in the north-west corner of the Peninsula wheel traffic was impossible. In spite of the difficulties of transport and the murmurs of many of his officers, the indefatigable Marshal hurled all obstacles aside and with sixteen thousand troops forced his way into Oporto on March 29th, six weeks behind his scheduled time. But there he had to call a halt, for he had not the men nor the material for a further advance on Lisbon. The situation was by no means reassuring. To reach Oporto he had been obliged to cut himself adrift from his base, and he had no tidings of what was happening in the rest of the Peninsula. During April he set himself to conciliate the people of Portugal and at the same time to try and get into touch with the other French corps in Spain. The Marshal's attempt at conciliation was on the whole successful, but his kindness resulted in an unsuspected turn in the situation. A movement was started among a certain section of the Portuguese nobility and officials to offer the crown of Portugal to the Marshal. The Duke of Dalmatia, greedy and ambitious but ever cautious, was of opinion that though the Emperor might disapprove of the idea, he would accept a fait accompli. Accordingly he secretly sanctioned the movement, and allowed placards to appear in Oporto stating that "the Prince Regent, by his departure to Brazil, had formally resigned the crown, and that the only salvation of Portugal would be that the Duke of Dalmatia, the most distinguished of the pupils of the great Napoleon, should ascend the vacant throne." Further, he actually, on April 19th, ordered his chief of the staff to send a circular to commanding officers inviting their co-operation in his seizure of the crown, stating that by so doing they would in no way be disloyal to the Emperor. Luckily for the Marshal, the arrival of Sir Arthur Wellesley and the English army, before the plot could succeed, once and for all blew aside this cloudy attempt at kingship. For the Emperor, on hearing of the affair, although he pardoned the Marshal, saying, "I remember nothing but Austerlitz," still wrote in the same despatch "that it would have been a crime, clear lèse majesté, an attack on the imperial dignity," and added that it was no wonder that the army grew discontented, since the Marshal was working, not for France, but for himself, and that disobedience to the Marshal's orders was quite justified. For once, then, the Marshal, usually so clever and cautious, had allowed ambition to run away with prudence. Meanwhile the military situation grew day by day more disquieting. In the French army there was a section of the officers ready to declare against the Empire whenever a chance occurred, and one of them, Argenton by name, actually entered into a treasonable negotiation with Sir Arthur Wellesley. It was thanks to the discovery of this plot that the Marshal first got information of his enemies' projected advance.