After watching Napoleon march into Berlin, Friederich must’ve been one sour Kraut…
This episode covers events from October 1806 to November 1806, with a look back May 1806
Spotify link – https://open.spotify.com/show/6ZUdt7PY54HR5teHxrMsJs
Music:
Franz Liszt – Les Préludes (1854)
Sources/References:
– The Campaigns of Napoleon (1966) – David Chandler
– The French Revolution (1980) – Christopher Hibbert
– In the Words of Napoleon (2002) – Philip Haythornwaithe & R.M. Johnston
– Napoleon (2015) – Andrew Roberts
– Naploleon’s Wars (2006) – Charles Esdaile
Upon the field of battle La Grande Armée rested. Bivouacs were established where,  just hours before, vicious mêlées had raged and cannons boomed. Bodies still littered the field;  the groans of wounded and dying echoed in still night air. For Emperor Napoleon the day of October Â
14th had been a trying one. Under his personal direction an entire Prussian Army under the Prince  of Hohenlohe had been routed at Jena. Only miles away, at Auerstedt, Marshall Nicolas Davout had  fought to a standstill an even larger Prussian army under the personal command of the Duke of Â
Brunswick, who himself had died in the fighting. One-hundred and seventy-thousand Prussian soldiers  had set out for the occupation of Saxony only a few weeks ago; now, a third were lost as  casualties and prisoners, and the rest were in full retreat. However, from his headquarters Â
At Jena, Napoleon was not yet to know the full scale of the Prussian defeat. Hohenlohe’s army  was utterly broken, but the late Brunswick’s army was largely intact. What’s more, a third force,  an uncommitted reserve of Prussian troops – 13,000 soldiers under the Duke of Württemberg – was Â
Lingering in the vicinity of Halle. So though the Prussians were beaten, they were not yet broken.  Erring on the side of caution, Napoleon therefore only permitted the light cavalry of Joachim  Murat’s division to carry out a pursuit. Hussars and dragoons streamed west toward Weimar pursuing Â
The shattered remnants of Hohenlohe’s army. The rest of the French army was only given a  general order to pursue on the morning of October 15th, having taken the night to rest and resupply.  The three most heavily engaged corps under Marshalls Jean Lannes, Pierre Augereau and Â
Nicolas Davout were still, even after this reprieve, in no condition to force-march.  The slack was taken up by the relatively unengaged corps of Jean Soult, Michel Ney,  and most notably, Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte. Bernadotte’s performance on the 14th had  been poor. Marching between two battles, he’d failed to participate in either, leaving Davout Â
Out to dry and Napoleon deeply disappointed. Vain and catty, but brave in equal measure,  Bernadotte was eager to restore his reputation. Marching from Apolda 17-miles north towards Halle,  his corps caught the Duke of Württemberg as he was making ready to withdraw. The battle was brief and Â
Wholly lopsided. For 800 casualties, Bernadotte destroyed over half of Württemberg’s reserve. Not  long after the Battle of Halle, Murat had reached Erfurt, making as many as 14,000 prisoners, among  them the Prince of Orange and General Möllendorff. This left only the main force retreating from Â
Auerstedt. Soult and Ney were on their trail force-marching north along the Elbe. Order had  almost completely broken down in the Prussian army, and in the haste of their retreat, they  abandoned essentially all of their food, munitions and other supplies. As Soult and Ney raced by they Â
Found stocked-wagons rolled into ditches by the roadside. So between the night’s delay imposed by  Napoleon, and a freshly unencumbered retreat, the Prussian army was able to make good its escape.  On the 17th, the remaining French corps joined the pursuit. Napoleon wasn’t far behind, Â
Relocating himself and the Imperial Guard to Weimar. Thousands of Prussian prisoners were  still being processed as Napoleon made the city palace, the Schloss Weimar, his new headquarters.  The irony was palpable. Only a few days before, the King and Queen of Prussia had resided here, Â
Chiding on their generals and advisors to destroy the French interlopers. And where were they now?  Queen Louise had fled Weimar in a panic, Murat’s hussars at her heels. King Friederich-Wilhelm  instead had stayed with main Prussian Army, and when the Duke of Brunswick caught a bullet to Â
The face, assumed command just in time put his name to the fiasco at Auerstedt. He was now with  that army fleeing north back into the Prussian heartland of Brandenburg. But even this miraculous  escape was not fast enough. By October 18th, the French pursuit was barrelling up the Elbe like Â
A tidal wave. Rather than take command of the defence, the King ran, abandoning his army.  The departure of the incompetent King was an immediate improvement for the Prussians,  not that it really mattered. The Prince of Hohenlohe was now in overall command. He Â
Aimed to fight some rearguard actions to thwart an easy French crossing of the Elbe. Ideally,  this would buy time until some sort of reserve could be rallied in Brandenburg. That was the  plan anyway. In practice, the Prussians parted like pam fronds. At Wittenberg on October 22nd, Â
The Saxon populace gladly aided the advance Davout’s Corps by disarming mines left behind  on the town’s bridge by a Prussian rearguard. His plan in shambles, Hohenlohe had to abandon  the Elbe defence, and therefore Brandenburg and Berlin to Napoleon. He was forced instead to make Â
For the Pomeranian coast, following the Oder river past Berlin and up to Stettin. Grumpy Gerhard von  Blücher was given a portion of Hohenlohe’s army and ordered to strike out for East Prussia in the  vain hope that he could join any Russian army that might intervene. Blücher certainly gave Â
It everything he had, but his force was weighed down by all of the Prussian artillery Hohenlohe  had offloaded in his panic. There was no way to make it east, so instead Blücher went west to  Brunswick. Again the artillery bogged him down. Soult, Ney and Murat were rapidly converging on Â
Magdeburg. Blücher was only spared ensnarement by this city’s formidable defences which delayed the  French. His hope now was to join a 9000-strong Swedish army assembled at Stralsund. Murat’s  cavalry, followed now by Bernadotte, was not far behind though. Cut to ribbons by French Â
Hussars on the roads, Blücher’s force abandoned what little they still carried and in scattered  bands evaded marauding French patrols. Most of the survivors regrouped in Lübeck, while a fortunate  few did manage to make it to Stralsund. With all military options to arresting French Â
Momentum now exhausted, the time had clearly come for Prussia to throw in the towel. The first peace  offering arrived on Napoleon’s desk at Weimar on the 19th. It came directly from Friederich-Wilhelm  and offered terms for an armistice before a conditional peace. Napoleon read the appeal Â
And decided it didn’t even deserve a response it was so out of touch. The next day, Prussian  Ambassador to France, Giorlamo Lucchesini, presented himself to Napoleon and offered  terms. Aware that Lucchesini was one of the prime-players in the Prussian war-faction that’d Â
Convinced Friederich-Wilhelm to invade Saxony and wage war of France, Napoleon again rejected this  peace offering. Instead, as was his habit in tense peace negotiations like this, Napoleon substituted  his own offer. In this case, unconditional Prussian surrender. A vague outline of a post-war Â
Settlement was also drawn-up by Napoleon in which Prussia would lose her Westphalian provinces  and enter into an alliance with France against Russia. Lucchesini obligingly returned these terms  to Friederich-Wilhelm, who was by now back in Berlin and on the verge of fleeing again for East Â
Prussia. More concerned about a counter-alliance against Russia than losing land, the King was not  prepared to accept right away. He was under the impression that Hohenlohe’s defence on the Elbe  had not yet broken and that there was still some hope of salvaging the military situation. But as Â
The Elbe-line sundered, Friederich-Wilhelm did accept he inevitable. He conveyed his acceptance  to Napoleon on October 30th, only to receive after a quick response – a resounding ‘no.’  By then, the French advance had completely outpaced negotiations. On the evening of the 24th, Â
French troops overran the cities of Potsdam, Cölln and Spandau – today all suburbs of Berlin, but in  the early 1800s still separate cities. Potsdam itself was the beating heart of the Hohenzollern  dynasty. Its capture, without a fight, was an grave impingement on their authority. Though home Â
To the centre of Prussian administration at the Charlottenburg Palace, and the royal residence at  Sans Souci, the true prize, as far as Napoleon was concerned, was the mausoleum commemorating  the previous Prussian King, Friederich-Wilhelm II ‘der Große.’ Napoleon’s aide-de-camp and friend,  Phillipe-Paul de Ségur, recorded that the Emperor’s usual intensity dissipated. Instead, Â
As he entered the mausoleum and viewed Friederich’s tomb, he insisted upon utter  quiet. ‘Remove your hats, gentlemen’, he said to his entourage. ‘Were this man still alive, I would  not be here.’ Ten minutes of silent contemplation followed. The no-doubt deep respect Napoleon had Â
For Friederich’s abilities did not extend to his personal property. Friederich’s sword,  sash, battle standards, flags, and even his alarm clock, were confiscated and dispatched to France.  The sword and sash were to be sent to Les Invalides. The little golden alarm clock, Â
Meanwhile, remained at Napoleon’s bedside for the rest of his life. Friederich’s flute – a fairly  unassuming black instrument – was left at Sans Souci. Perhaps Napoleon could see propaganda use  for captured military paraphernalia, perhaps he needed a well-made clock; Â
But an instrument was too personal a thing to disturb, and so it remained in the mausoleum.  As French troops completed the occupation of Berlin, Napoleon took up residence at the  Charlottenburg Palace on October 25th. Keeping on eye on the army, with the other Napoleon Â
Supervised the occupation of the Prussian capital. Back in September, the Berliners themselves had  been gripped with fervour at the news of war with France. The same Prussian soldiers who  had fled from Jena and Auerstedt had, only weeks before, paraded through Berlin to the adoration Â
Of the crowds. It was therefore essential not to provoke the Berliners. Shock played to Napoleon’s  advantage here. News out of Saxony was spotty, and by the time many in Berlin knew that the Prussian  army was kaput, French troops were already in Spandau and Potsdam. Even as they passed, Â
Satirical posters of Napoleon still hung on shop windows and tavern doors. There was to  be no looting, no repression, and indeed aside from a de facto curfew imposed by the French,  life was merely on pause in Berlin. Harsh punishments, up to and including execution, Â
Were instead reserved for any French soldier found guilty of looting or assault.  On the 26th, La Grande Armée made its victory march through Berlin. Davout’s Corps was afforded  the honour of leading the procession for their triumph at Auerstedt. Starting at Charlottenberg, Â
The French troops paraded down the wide avenues of central Berlin, through the Tiergarten, and under  the Brandenburg gate. Berliners watched on in near silence, the symbolism not lost on anybody.  Indeed the symbolism was entirely the point, the route deliberately plotted to pass underneath the Â
Brandenburg gate, a monument to the successful Prussian intervention into the United Provinces  in 1787. Napoleon capped-off the triumphal march under the gate with an address to Davout’s corps,  and later reprinted in the army bulletin: ‘[To La Grande Armée]. We have reached Potsdam Â
And Berlin even before word could arrive of your victories. We have captured 60,000 prisoners,  65 flags, including those of the Prussian Royal Guard, 6000 cannon, 3 fortresses and 20 generals.  And yet, more than half of you can complain of having had no opportunity to fire a shot! Â
Soldiers! The Russians boast that they are marching against us. We shall spare them  half a journey and march out to meet them! There we will give them another  Austerlitz fought in the heart of Prussia.’ Over the next few days, more triumphal military Â
Parades followed, each more grandoise than the last. On the 27th, 20,000 grenadiers  and cuirassiers of the Imperial Guard and Reserve cavalry retraced the steps of Davout’s corps from  the day before. Polished breastplates and bright, plumed shakos cut a marvellous sight. Napoleon Â
Rode with them, but ahead of the main procession accompanied only by his staff. He was conspicuous  for his lack of dress uniform, with one French officer later remarking that he was worst dressed  man there. The Berliners themselves seemed not to begrudge the victorious French too much. Â
Their mood was a curious mix of despondency at so crushing a defeat, and curiosity at the soldiers,  and the Emperor, who had inflicted it upon them. There was even a brief moment of glee for the  Berliners as the Prussian Royal Guard was paraded past. Comprised of cocky sons of Junker lords, Â
There was no love for the Guard among the Berliners. They cheered as the Guard was  humiliated by being made to march by the French embassy before whose steps they had sharpened  their swords, goading France to war. Napoleon also gave the Berliners a chance to excise their Â
Complicity in the war by implying that it was Queen Louise, not Friederich-Wilhelm, who had led  Prussia astray. A bulletin from the 27th trotted out sexist tropes about women in positions of  power than played well to contemporary beliefs. Not all of the Berliners were so enamoured with Â
Their French occupiers, however. On the 26th, Napoleon had accepted the keys to the city from  Prince Franz Ludwig von Hatzfeld. It turned out that the Prince had been writing coded letters  to Prince Hohenlohe containing details on French strength. Napoleon was furious, and had it not Â
Been for the intercession of his staff and staff, namely Armand-Augustin Caulaincourt  and Louis-Alexandre Berthier, Hatzfeld might well have found himself put up against a wall and shot.  Instead, the next day, this episode was played to Napoleon advantage as Hatzfeld’s wife, Frederike, Â
Was invited to the Charlottenburg where she plead for her husband to be spared. Napoleon agreed,  making damned sure that news of his clemency was spread all throughout Berlin. Less publicised was  the pilfering of Berlin’s historical artefacts. Apart from the paraphernalia of Friederich the Â
Great, Napoleon ordered the quadriga of ‘winged-victory’ atop the Brandenburg Gate  to be taken down and carted-off to Paris. Then, the needle monument erected at the battlefield of  Rossbach was demolished and also taken away. Back home these symbolic acts would maximise Â
The propaganda value of Jena and Auerstedt. There were still plenty of very real victories  yet to come too. With Berlin captured, any hope of Prussia regrouping to mount a proper defence  was over. It only remained to mop-up the last pockets of resistance. Hohenlohe’s plan Â
Was still to escape up the Oder to Stettin. But in his wake were the Corps of Lannes,  Bernadotte and Murat racing northwards out of Berlin. Oranienburg quickly fell to the  advancing French infantry while the cavalry made haste for Prenzlau. There on the 28th Murat found Â
Hohenlohe’s army – or rather, what was left of it. Without ammunition or food, there was no  fight left in the Prussians. Hohenlohe quickly submitted to Murat’s demands for surrender  under the mistaken belief that over 100,000 French troops surrounded Prenzlau. Ten-thousand infantry Â
And 64 guns were captured. Only the 4000 Prussian cavalry escaped, but they too were quickly  apprehended at Pasewalk on October 29th. Having expected Hohenlohe to heave into sight any minute,  Stettin was instead greeted by Antoine Lasalle at the head of 700 hussars. He quickly secured Â
The surrender of Stettin’s city. Seeing this, the fortress commander agreed to surrender too, even  ferrying Lasalle’s squadrons over the Oder to take the arms of over 5000 surrendering Prussians.  Stettin’s immediate capitulation was just a symptom Prussia’s utterly broken spirit. Â
Perhaps the only man left in Prussia who still believed victory was attainable was General  Blücher. By November 5th, he’d only barely evaded Bernadotte and Soult’s Corps to take refuge in  Lübeck. The French were mere hours behind, and though exhausted, surrounded the port-city. In Â
Charge of 22,000 bedraggled soldiers, Blücher’s hope now was to leverage Lübecker neutrality in  the hope that the Royal Navy would evacuate his entire force to Britain. It was a fanciful hope.  Lübeck’s neutrality meant nothing the French. Bernadotte and Soult jointly attacked the city. Â
General Scharnhorst took command of the defence with 10,000 men while Blücher made good a retreat  to nearby Ratkau with the rest. Before nightfall on the 5th, Scharnhorst had surrendered. Though  under pain of punishment, Soult’s troops pillaged Lübeck, inflicting yet more devastation on the Â
Once-proud centre of Baltic trade. Bernadotte was more successful in reining in his troops and  set off after Blücher. Despite the old general’s reputation for tenacity and grit, his situation  was utterly hopeless. Blücher wisely surrendered his army on November 6th. He received generous Â
Terms from Bernadotte, who was all t-o eager to eager to secure a quick conclusion. That’s because  from nearby Straslund, the Swedish army was on the move, no doubt to Blücher’s aid. Rather than great  an approaching Swedish division with fire and steel, Bernadotte opened up cordial negotiations Â
With the King of Sweden Gustav IV. It was agreed that the Swedes would withdraw uncontested and  that the French would occupy Stralsund to prevent a British landing. In exchange Bernadotte agreed  to respect all Swedish property and law. Two days after the Swedish withdrawal Magdeburg capitulated Â
To Marshall Ney. The fortress had been one of the few to offer any real resistance, but its meagre  stores of food and ammunition were quickly denuded by 22,000 demoralised Prussians.  With the surrender of Magdeburg there was not a single Prussian field army left west of the Elbe. Â
Only in East Prussia were there any units at all, most from border forts, hastily assembled into a  motley army of about 20,000. The military phase of the Thuringia campaign was now over. Napoleon  had achieved his aim of defeating the Prussians military, but as Friederich-Wilhelm refused to Â
Accept terms of surrender, the war would continue. Prussian hopes now rested on Russian intervention.  And that marks a natural point to pause our look at the War of the Fourth Coalition to cover  some of Napoleon’s other pursuits. We’re well across all of the international and diplomatic Â
Developments throughout 1806, but not quite so for France’s domestic situation, in particular  the economic side of things. When Napoleon departed France in September 1805 to embark upon  the Ulm Campaign, he left France in the midst of a financial crisis. In broad strokes, the French Â
Banking system was buckling. It was bad enough that the investment economy had dried up after the  collapse of Amiens, and all commercial enterprises were thwarted by the Royal navy. France was then  also facing down Russia and Austria in what would no doubt be a long and bloody war. Napoleon had Â
Already drained much of the treasury mobilising La Grande Armée for the unexecuted invasion of  Britain. During that time, the army had been stationed in France putting severe strain  on local economies and resources. Economic prospects appeared dim, and in expectation of Â
Lean times ahead, bank runs were common. This in turn forced the banks to demand  payment for the loans they’d given Napoleon’s government – funds he simply didn’t have.  It was against the backdrop of this brewing crisis that news of the Capitulation of Ulm reached Â
Paris. The stunning victory restored public faith in the government and thereby the banks.  A few weeks later when Napoleon scored another stunning victory at Austerlitz,  the worst of the crisis dissipated. But that did not mean the underlying economic conditions  contributing to the crisis had gone anywhere. France was still under economic embargo from Â
Britain, domestic industry was reeling from undercapitalisation and the army still demanded  colossal sums of money. Returning to Paris in January 1806, financial matters dominated  Napoleon’s counseil meetings. Fortunately, he was lucky enough to have a two very capable financial Â
Minds at his service. Charles Gaudin, a very adroit minister, ran the Ministry of Finance like  clockwork. He worked hand in glove with François Barbé-Marbois, the Minister of the Treasury. Both  had undertaken long-term financial reform since their appointments, these reforms even predating Â
Napoleon becoming First Consul, let alone Emperor. Political expedient compelled Napoleon to fire  Barbé-Marbois in January 1806 as a scape-goat for the recent fiscal woes. Charles Mollien  took his place in the Treasury. Established in January 1800 to replace the Directory’s  hopelessly corrupt version, La Direction Générale du Trésor – the General Directory Â
Of the Treasury – was answerable directly to the Ministry of Finance. The Treasury asserted  rigorous financial oversight over all aspects of state expenditure and revenue raising. They also  kept highly detailed accounts and investigated reports of corruption with thorough audits. Â
By 1806 the Treasury was in prime condition at the just the right moment. When Napoleon returned from  the Austerlitz campaign he was flush with about 75 million francs which had been obtained, fairly  or otherwise, over the course of the previous years’ campaign as contributions from allies, Â
Bounty from occupied lands, and reparations from Austria. Deducting the army’s expenses still left  a solid 50 millions francs for the banks, though this sum still fell short of what was owed. Taxes  would have to make up the short fall, and that was where the Treasury and Ministry of Finance Â
Stepped in. Knowing chapter and verse the saga of political and financial woes that had toppled the  Ancien Régime, Napoleon was reluctant to introduce any new taxes lest his support be undermined.  So instead Charles Gaudin opted to overhaul the existing tax system by making it more efficient. Â
Gaudin had begun this difficult work years ago. In November 1799, the Directory’s inadequate system  was replaced by a new system overseen directly by the Ministry of Finance. In every department of  France was established a Direction du recouvrement des impositions directes – a Directorate of for Â
The Recovery of Direct Taxes. Accountants, provided by the Treasury, staffed the Directates  each of which supervised by an Inspector General. The Inspector General reported to a Receiver  General who in turn reported directly to the Ministry of Finance. Roughly three quarters of Â
Tax revenues were to be forward monthly to Paris, though after 1806 this occurred every ten days.  There were three main sources of direct tax revenue upon which the French Empire relied.  The first was a straight land tax called La Contribution Foncière. A product of the Â
French Revolution, the land tax was levied on rural landowners. When introduced in 1791, the  land tax raked in 240 millions francs, though this sum came disproportionately from small freeholders  and peasant families. Reforms in 1803 and 1804 significantly reduced this sum to around 200 Â
Million francs based on more accurate census data and revised estimates of what was owed. Though the  value was down, the tax was far more equitably distributed between the major landowners and the  minor landowners. Another Revolutionary-era tax on incomes was also maintained, Â
But not with the same success as the land tax. La Contribution Personelle-Mobilliére was chiefly  levied on towns and cities and targeted personal incomes. What counted as an income was varied,  and year on year chopped and changed. Barely worth the effort anymore, by February 1804 Â
The income tax was phased out entirely. The steadily decreasing value of direct  taxes forced the Ministry of Finance to rely heavily upon indirect taxes. Excise  duties on luxury commodities like tobacco and alcohol were the mainstay of indirect taxation, Â
And they recalled nothing so much as the despised octroi of the Ancien Régime. Though the Empire  referred to the duties officially as réunis, colloquially they were still called octroi.  Despite their controversiality, the octrois were expanded in 1806 to include common commodities Â
Like salt, and even public transport or the playing of cards. Though hated by all,  the octrois were indispensable to the state. Between 1806 and 1812, when the value of direct  taxes hovered around 200 to 250 million francs per year, the increased applicability of the octrois Â
Increased their value by four-times as much to around 1000 million francs. In the short term,  in 1806, state expenses for the year were around 700 million francs, leaving 300 million as income.  Nonetheless the public debt was still significant, made all the worse by the near collapse of the Â
Bank of France in late 1805. Speculating in shares on South American investments, the Bank of France  very nearly went under when the bubble burst. Had the Bank gone under it would have been a complete  disaster for state finances as not only was the Bank of France handling the state’s public debt, Â
But was also the main investment bank for the commercial and political elite. Napoleon had the  old leadership evicted, along with Barbé-Marbois as we saw, and replaced by a bunch who wouldn’t  pursue bank-oriented private investments, but rather focus more closely on supporting Â
State financial ventures. The most important change here was the Bank’s right to issue state  bonds at 6% interest per annum, providing another constant source of state revenue.  With all this money now flowing into the French economy, whether from national revenues, Â
War reparations or captured loot, inflation was beginning to rear its head. Fortunately,  measures implemented during Napoleon’s Consulship prevented the issue from ever becoming serious.  Having inherited a jumbled mess of metal coinage and paper money, in 1803 the Ministry of Finance Â
Imposed order by re-adopting metal coinage fixed to a silver standard. Available in copper,  silver and gold, all at ascending denominations, the rollout of the Imperial silver franc was  remarkably successful. The stability of the currency made it very popular in France where  it quickly displaced the old, near-worthless royal and Revolutionary currencies. There was Â
Even some success in imposing adoption in certain French-facing regions in Italy, Switzerland and  Germany. The result was that France enjoyed a very stable currency commonly used not only in its  domestic market, but also in neighbouring markets. Only the British Pound Sterling could compete, Â
And though constantly devalued by increased infaltion throughout the Napoleonic Wars,  the Pound did still outstripped the franc as the currency of European commerce.  Most of these varied reforms were bundled up and passed by March 1806 as a package. France was now Â
Entirely out of the woods as regarded financial worries, and indeed as we’ve seen was going from  strength to strength. So with short-term pressure relieved Napoleon could recommit to longer-term  planning and his true passion project. In order to strengthen the power of the French Empire, Â
Napoleon turned towards a project of Empire-building, the consequences of  which were to have profound, continent-spanning implications. In this new ‘Grande Empire’,  Great Empire, nothing was to atrophy, or be left to chance. Reforms at all levels were to assert Â
Both the power of the Empire at home and secure its interests abroad. As we’ve seen, Napoleon  was quick to sponsor and engage in major reform projects, which we’ve covered in detail already.  Things includes everything everything from the Code Napoléon to the Corps d’Armée system. All Â
These diplomatic, social, political, financial and legal endeavours fit into the larger scope  of the Grande Empire, forming the pillars upon which Napoleon’s Empire rested.  In 1806 the only pillar that Napoleon lacked for was economic. Despite France’s improved Â
Fiscal position and success on the battlefield, the nation was still one disaster – whether  military or financial – away from economic ruin. Indeed, France’s military was success was at the  heart of this problem, ironically enough. Building and maintaining large armies is tough, very tough; Â
A problem that the Committee of Public Safety understood all too well in the Revolutionary  wars. With the French economy in dire straits, the only effective remedy was for French armies  to not to fight directly in the defence of France, but rather to engage the enemy on their own turf, Â
To make war pay for way. Invasions of Catalonia, Piedmont, the Rhineland and the Low Countries  subsidised the costs of the army, whilst also filling French coffers with thousands of tonnes  of loot which offset against the costs of war. This economic pressure to go on the offensive Â
Had never disappeared even after France had prevailed in the Revolutionary wars. Similar  concerns presaged Napoleon’s 1800 invasion of Italy, and more recently in 1805 and 1806,  the decision to invade Germany. This cycle of military success fuelling  economic success exerted profound influence on the shaping of the French Empire. But it Â
Was a double-edged sword, as we will also see by the time the Empire’s successes are turned  to defeats. For now, in 1806, Napoleon’s career is still one of uninterrupted military success  which has brought wealth and prosperity to France. However, the cycle is beginning to Â
Slow. Germany is all but conquered or allied to France; Holland, Switzerland, Italy and Naples are  all client states. And of course with Austria thrice defeated, and now bound by treaty to a  truce and alliance with France, Napoleon cannot simply visit the bank of Vienna to withdraw more Â
Millions in reparations. Now it’s not as though these client states and allies don’t contribute  both directly and indirectly to the French economy. Every German, Swiss, Italian or Dutch  battalion at arms is a battalion the French don’t have to fund; and heavy demands are placed on the Â
Client states for their money and supplies. Though very valuable, these contributions are still not  the same as invading and simply extracting raw resources or demanding reparations. There’s also  the issue really setting in here in 1806 that maintaining the whole French Empire is far more Â
Expensive that merely defending the territory of France. The size of LGA at its foundation in 1804  was 200,000 soldiers. In 1806, that number has doubled to 400,000. When factoring in too the  cost of regenerating losses and the raising of new units, it becomes understandable why Napoleon was Â
So demanding of his allies and client states – without a strong enough economic base in France  alone, he had to extract everything he could in order to make the cost of Empire sustainable.  So what was to be done? How could Napoleon settle France on more firm economic fundamentals? Well Â
The aim here to transition France away from the need to extract resources from Europe,  and instead to become the economic and commercial centre of new French-dominated European market.  And that meant excluding Great Britain entirely from European trade. For the past 50 or 60 years, Â
Britain had dominated European trade and commerce. Britain of the mid-18th century  was an economic powerhouse, confirmed in that position by defeating their only serious rival  France in the Seven Years’ War. An unbroken supply chain linked Europe to the rest of Â
The world via Britain, whose merchant marine, whose financial and banking systems, whose navy,  was at the centre of a truly international market. The upside of Britain’s dominance  of world trade did was not just bonanza income but intensive economic growth in Britain itself. Â
Not rich in the raw resources need for their own economy, Britian sourced goods like timber, grain,  metals and cotton from both European and American trading partners and from their own expansive  Empire. Manufactories sprung up across Britian to convert these raw resources into refined products Â
To be sold on. Generally speaking, British goods were not the highest quality. What they were was  cheap and affordable at decent-enough quality. So while French clothing, Austrian furniture or  Italian wine were traded as luxury goods, Britian churned out in bulk common goods like shoes, Â
Clothes and tools for mass consumption. Local European manufacturing did exist, and Prussia,  Austria, France – all the big boys – did have well-developed domestic markets for common goods.  But in smaller states, especially littoral states, local industry simply never needed to develop Â
Very far as British goods were cheap and readily available. This is all to make no mention of the  trade of colonial products of tobacco, sugar and tea, on which Britain had an effective monopoly.  The limiting factor for Britain was a connection to oceanic trade. It was through European ports Â
That their goods flowed, and so they needed access these ports. For decades this had not been  a problem, even when France attempted to close out European markets. France could raise tariffs,  implement mercantilist policies, or even try to interdict British trade at times of war. Â
It didn’t matter much because there was always someone else who needed what Britain was selling.  This dynamic however, was gradually inverting. Britain was really beginning to feel the pinch  of two-decades of French domination of the European continent – in particular, French Â
Domination of the Netherlands. As the de facto entrepôt for British goods into central Europe,  ports like Den Haag, Antwerp and Amsterdam were essential to British interests. Where  the loss of major trading ports in Europe hurt the British, it wasn’t too bad for France. Already, Â
France had through suffered the effects of being severed from international trade. Apart from the  brief Peace of Amiens, French-flagged ships were fair game for the roving Royal Navy. Britain in  fact had reupped their blockade with a ban on all French or French-aligned shopping in May 1806. Â
Suffering in proportion were major French trading ports like Bordeaux, Nantes and Marseilles. Even  before the Napoleonic wars, the loss of French colonial possessions had curtailed international  commerce. The effect was that by 1806, France was basically weened off-of international trade. Sure, Â
It would be nice to have, but not a lifeline as it was for Britain. Agriculture was still the  mainstay of the domestic French economy. And while French industry produced goods that in  better times might’ve been sold internationally, they could just as readily be carted overland Â
To European trading partners. The dynamic was such that as France expanded, conquering land  or forging new alliances, Britain had fewer and fewer European buyers for their finished goods.  Napoleon viewed Britain as ‘a nation of shop-keepers.’ He viewed their reliance on Â
Trade as an Achilles’ heel, and had done a long, long time. Napoleon’s Egyptian expedition had been  justified on how it would harm British trade into Asia, after all. The near-total dominion  the Royal Navy enjoyed on the high seas prevented Napoleon from considering any long-range attacks Â
On the British Empire. But what he could do was close-out the end market for British goods in  Europe. Napoleon envisioned a Continental Blockade of British exports. From Sans Souci the Emperor  promulgated the Berlin Decrees of November 6th 1806. The Decrees began by citing the various Â
Real and imagined transgression of Britain, which invoked ‘the first ages of barbarism.’ After this  came eleven articles detailed the scope of the Continental Blockade. The British Isles  were declared to be in a state of blockade, severed from commercial contact with France,  their client states, allies and Spain. British subjects on the continent were Â
To be made prisoners of war along with any goods taken from British warehouses. These confiscated  goods would then be sold off with half the profits given to merchants whose ships and  wars had been seized by the Royal Navy. For all the significance attached to the Â
Continental Blockade, both then and now, it was effectively only confirming a status quo  that had existed since the break of Amiens, in which the British did not and could not trade  in French-aligned ports. But there is no doubt however that Napoleon had grander plans for the Â
Blockade than a mere embargo. Trade with the continent made up around a third of Britain’s  trade by volume, so by cutting off access, Napoleon could inflict serous economic pain on  his implacable enemy. The Continental Blockade therefore became more effective if it applied Â
To more ports, thereby providing Britain fewer and fewer ports of call. Beyond areas he already  controlled or influenced, Napoleon intended to expand the Blockade out to include neutral  nations. At the Treaty of Schönbrunn, one of the many demands placed on Austria was that they cease Â
Commercial contact with Britain. Here in 1806 the same demands were made of Friederich-Wilhelm,  contributing to his decision to continue his hopeless war. Indeed, the expansion of the  Continental Blockade will from here on out be the driving force of Napoleon’s foreign policy Â
Since if even a single state keeps it ports open to Britain, British goods will flood in  and undermine the whole project. That being said, the Blockade, as initially implemented, did not  aim to entirely exclude the British. In fact, trade with Britain was to be encouraged if all Â
They did was import raw resources from Europe back to Britain to be paid for in specie. Napoleon’s  logic was that if Britain still imported raw resources to then be converted to goods,  but couldn’t offload those goods to Europe, then the money spent would quickly dry up. This in turn Â
Would force the British government to make tough decisions to prevent rampant inflation, either  taking more massive loans, printing more money, or in extremis, devaluing the Pound sterling.  With the French navy at the bottom of the sea, or otherwise confined to port, Â
The Continental Blockade was the only way Napoleon could realistically strike out at Britain. As he  confided to Louis, ‘I intend to conquer the sea through the power of the land.’ So if the  conquest of the sea was the Blockade, what then was the power of the land? Alone the Continental Â
Blockade was not conquest so much as area denial. However, this did make the space in which France  could harness and build a strong economic base by leveraging near-total dominance of  Continental Europe. Napoleon termed this project the Continental System. Extending the underlying  Colbertian, mercantilist logic of the Continental Blockade, Napoleon aimed to monopolise internal Â
European trade by being the sole major producer of completed staple goods – the exact goods Britian  specialised in. Already, the French economy was self-sufficient, being as it was largely  agricultural. Industrial and commercial concerns had recovered and now sought new markets with Â
Which to trade. Leveraging France’s industrial and agricultural heft, Napoleon now aimed to  compel other European states to view France as their major trading partner, creating for France  a captive audience. This was not, however, to be a European common-market where all trading partners Â
Were essentially on the same legal and commercial level. Through economic and diplomatic pressure,  Napoleon intended to impose disadvantageous deals on European states that would see the French buy  low and sell high. Without competition, and backed by the French military, France would Â
Dominate a European market in which prices on their goods remained artificially high.  All of this was great news for French industry and manufacturing which from 1806 to 1810 would  grow in leaps and bounds. The influx of cheap cotton from the Ottoman Empire and wool from Â
Italy and Germany propelled a spike in textile manufacturing. The army especially was a major  buyer of textiles as they required everything from cheap woolen coats for the infantry, to finest  quality textiles for officers and prestige units. Though production remained largely artisanal,  large-scale industrialisation did occur. British technologies such as the spinning-jenny had either Â
Been imported, and quite often copied, during the Peace of Amiens. Now in 1806 the jennies  were in full swing. Textile works sprung up all across France and its surrounds,  in Paris, Lyons, Passy Ghent and the Eure. Industrial development synergised with scientific Â
Advancements, and indeed Napoleon’s old friends at L’Academie Française, Antoine Lavoisier,  Claude Louis Berthollet, Jean-Antoine Chaptal and many others, invented new techniques used  across multiple industries. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the production of soda  ash which was vital not only in textiles, but also in the industrial manufacturing of soap, Â
Glass and paper. Nicolas Leblanc’s Leblanc Process, invented only about ten years before,  allowed French chemical industry to expand rapidly with Parisian sodaworks outputting a vast majority  of Europe’s soda ash. In the Iron-smelting industry Napoleon’s policy of Ralliement and  sponsorship of L’Academie saw a confluence of industrial and scientific interest that Â
Drastically increased iron and steel output. This fulfilled the army’s extensive demands. Returning  emigrees restarted production at Le Creuset and Hayage ironworks largely to forge cannon. This  in turn led them to cooperate with scientists who implemented the coke furnace in France for Â
The first time. Ancillary industries too, like in coal extraction and charcoal buring, benefitted  as well. For all the myriad economic benefits France accrued from the Continental System, the  fact remained that it was a system that had to be imposed administratively and diplomatically upon Â
Largely unwilling participants. Very deliberately the system was meant to benefit France first and  foremost, and were it not for French military dominance, it’s unimaginable any state would  willingly submit itself to total economic subservience. The artificiality of the Continental Â
System was its greatest weakness as there was no natural basis for it outside of purely  French economic interest. By 1810, the contrived nature of the system would fatally undermine it,  but for now in November 1806, the Berlin Decrees went into effect without a hitch. Â
And that brings us back around neatly to Berlin, to Napoleon, and War of the  Fourth Coalition. After establishing a strong east-facing defence to protect Brandenburg,  French operations were on a de facto strategic pause now that all Prussian forces west of Berlin Â
Had been decisively crushed. It was good timing all things considered. The month of November had  arrived with an unseasonable chill. Caught in limbo between peace and war, and now assailed  by the cold, the Army’s willingness to carry on was in doubt. Similar concerns were being raised Â
By Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand, now in Berlin advising Napoleon directly. He conveyed that the  exuberant mood that had swept France after the dual victories of Jena and Auerstedt had faded,  replaced by that all too familiar pessimism that preceded a long-war. The longer the war Â
Dragged on, the further Napoleon’s legitimacy was undermined. A seasoned politician, Napoleon  did understand this problem at an instinctive level, even if it frustrated him to no end.  Had he not offered peace to Friederich-Wilhelm on decent terms? If anyone was to blame for ongoing Â
Hostilities, it was the King of Prussia. Outbursts and arguments were common within the halls of the  Charlottenburg as Napoleon and Talleyrand went back and forth. Emperor and minister had long held  differing ideas on which direction France should take. What were once differences of opinion were Â
Further diverging into unbridgeable divides. As Emperor though, it’s no surprise that  Napoleon’s ambitions for a Grande Empire won out over Talleyrand’s shrewd pragmatism that  saw France become a kind of primus inter pares. It was in the context that Napoleon promulgated Â
The Continental Blockade on Britain, a move which Talleyrand opposed. He pointed out that Britain  was, at this moment, primed for reconciliation. Prime Minister William Grenville’s Ministry of All  the Talents – a bi-partisan Whig-Tory government, had been formed back in February 1806. Contending Â
With worsening economic conditions at home, and thus flagging public support, the Ministry opted  for an invasion of South America with the goal of opening new markets in which to offload goods  which could no longer be easily sold in mainland Europe. The force under Home Riggs Popham which Â
Had captured the Dutch Cape Colony in 1805 was now rerouted to the newly independent nation of  Republic of the Rio de La Plata. Buenos Aires fell after a short siege. Popham returned to  Britain with news of victory and his assurances that South America was ripe for the taking. Now, Â
The upside of this for us that Talleyrand was well aware of these developments. He was also  well aware of the Ministry of All the Talent’s muted reaction to the Prussian defeat, regarded  as all but inevitable. Indeed, with the lingering influence of Charles Fox still in the Whig party, Â
There was even some excitement at the French victory over Prussia, always an unreliable  ally. Elections were coming up in early 1807, and it seemed to Talleyrand that Britain was  thoroughly preoccupied elsewhere, either trying to deal with serious domestic woes, or devoting the Â
Military resources to colonial campaigns. It was then only with great reluctance that Talleyrand  agreed to back the Continental Blockade. We’ve been over Napoleon’s economic rationale  for implementing the Blockade and the Continental System. Perhaps peace might be achieved with  Britain following Talleyrand’s plan, but it did nothing to cripple Britain in the long-term. Â
Napoleon was still determined to extend the bounds of French influence and the Continental Blockade.  With a lock on Western and Central Europe, the two areas of vital concern were in Eastern Europe  and the Balkans, and so Napoleon’s attention was squarely focused on his eastern border. He had of Â
Course hoped that Prussia would’ve accepted his initial peace offerings, in which case they would  have been fit into the Napoleonic Grande Empire as the eastern bulwark against Russia. However,  Friederich-Wilhelm’s intransigence suggested that this approach would not work. There was no Â
Way he’d be like Emperor Francis I of Austria. For Friederich to submit would to accept a peace that  put him in conflict with Russia and made him a client-King. So if Prussia could not serve as the  Empire’s eastern bulwark, who would? The answer, as it turned out, had been right there the entire Â
Time. LGA was already a very multinational force. There were Swiss Regiments, Italian regiments from  the Kingdom of Italy, from Naples, and German regiments from the Confederation and allies in  Baden, Bavaria and elsewhere. Making up a small but consistent contribution was Poland. Since Â
The first days the French Revolutionary Wars, and then the Wars of the Coalition,  France had benefitted from a steady stream of Polish recruits. Patriotic Polish expatriates,  expelled from Poland after 1794’s Rebellion, found refuge in France, with many willing to Â
Take up arms. In 1797, the Polish Legions were regularised in French and Italian service. Poles,  and often as not Lithuanians, Hungarians, Czechs and Slovaks, taken as prisoners from the Austrian,  Prussian and Russian armies, were offered freedom for service. The result was that, by 1805, Â
Napoleon had 27,000 to 30,000 Eastern European soldiers in his Army. Most of this number was  made up of Poles, which is a truly impressive feat since Poland had not been an independent state  since the Third Partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1795. Many Poles, proud of their Â
Novel Commonwealth, fought hard to keep their independence, and then revolted against foreign  rule. Polish Revolutionaries like Tadeusz Kosciuszko, Henryk Dabrowski and Prince Josef  Pontianowski launched a rebellion in 1794. It was crushed ruthlessly Marshall Suvorov of the Russian  Empire. Afterwards many Poles who had fought reconciled themselves to partition. Pontianowksi, Â
For example, was wooed by the Prussians and became a pliant subject even though he was once the heir  the whole of Poland. But the radicals would not surrender. They were the ones who fled west to  France to form the basis of the Polish legions. Despite defeat and partition, the flicker of Â
Polish nationhood was not snuffed out then even here in 1806. Independence was still the goal of  the Polish expatriates, even if their composition had changed since 1794. The initial influx of  Poles consisted of patriots whose revolutionary politics harmonised with those of the French Â
Revolutionaries. Of course, as France had descended further in authoritarianism, and then  in 1804 done away with the Republic entirely to become and Empire, many Poles were disillusioned.  They no longer saw France as a kindred nation, but a more traditional ally, and more specifically, Â
A vehicle with which to achieve Polish nationhood. This endpoint came clearly into focus the further  Napoleon pushed into Germany. The Emperor was under a lot of pressure from Poles within the army  to lay out a plan for Polish independence. Henryk Dabrowski was the most strident of these voices, Â
And offered numerous ideas and as to how to achieve this end, even if they fell on deaf ears.  Napoleon was, as was universal among the French elite, overtly sympathetic to the Polish cause.  In private, however, he placed little stock in Poland and so refused to adopt Polish independence Â
As a policy position for the longest time. Simply put, he was not willing to imperil relations with  Prussia, Austria and Russia in times of peace by endorsing the partial dismemberment of their  territories. And even when France was at war with these powers, a Polish independence was off the Â
Table so that Napoleon would not have to make the hard sell for a Polish nation. Even if he did,  it was hard for him see how a free Poland was all that helpful. No doubt Poland would be an ally Â
After peace was signed, but an effective one not so much. The Polish legions would return home to  defend a homeland that was surrounded on all sides by enemies eager to reconquer their lost  Polish claims, and no doubt France would be drawn into this war too. What began to tip the balance, Â
However, and start to chip away at Napoleon’s hesitance was manpower shortfall in the main  French army. He’d already called up the classe of 1806 a year early, meaning that he was effectively  borrowing soldiers from the future. With peace nowhere in sight, the manpower situation could Â
Turn dire quickly. An independent Poland could be the answer to this problem. A friendly,  populous nation already opposed to France’s enemies, that was already integrated into the  French army, could provide an untapped source of recruits. What’s more now that France actually Â
Did mostly border Poland, direct military support was not the issue it once was.  With one ally in his back pocket, Napoleon moved quickly to make a second in Selim III,  Sultan of the Ottoman Empire. Relations between France and the Ottomans had mellowed since the Â
Egyptian Campaign largely because they shared enemies in Russia and Austria. After the Battle  of Austerlitz, Napoleon turned on the charms, and through his ambassadors to Istanbul, Horace  Sébastiani and Guillaume Brune, gradually chipped away at Ottoman neutrality. Though inclined to be  standoffish, Selim’s apt calculation was that Russia, expansionistic and zealous, Â
Was an existential threat much more imposing than France. Napoleon had conquered Istria and  Dalmatia, and promised to compensate Austria with Ottoman Territory, but these threats were  far less immediate than Russia’s very direct claims to the Eastern Mediterranean and the Â
Balkans. An alliance of convenience formed. Selim broke his treaty of friendship with the Russians  in 1798 to side with France. Russian shipping was blocked through the Dardanelles, and Napoleon even  recognised as a padishah. In return, Selim was given carte blanche to act as he pleased in the Â
Balkans. In the main that meant reasserting Ottoman authority. Serbia was in revolt,  the Greeks were agitating for Independence, but worst of all, Wallachia and Moldavia were straying  from the Turkish orbit. The Eastern Orthodox rulers of Wallachia and Moldavia – Constantine  Ypsilanti and Simon Muruzi respectively – though nominally the subjects of Selim, Â
Took their cues instead from Russia. This system was formalised in 1802 with a concordat between  the Ottomans and Russia in which the Ottomans remained the lords of Wallachia and Moldavia,  but the Russians chose the rulers. This state of affairs was broken in August 1806 Â
When Selim deposed Russia’s chosen rulers. Yet another Russo-Turkish war loomed. Russia was  only prevented from immediately invading by France’s lightning-fast Thuringia campaign.  Tsar Alexander expected to be sipping tea in Istanbul that November. Instead,  his army was gathering in Poland ready to defend against Napoleon’s anticipated eastwards strike. Â
And that punch was well in the making. On November 2nd the first French troops had marched from  Brandenburg to Posen to take up advanced positions east of Berlin. In so doing, LGA had crossed the  ancient border from Germany into Poland. In search of military and economic support, Emperor Napoleon Â
Was determined to see Poland returned to the concert of powers as a client state. The fates  of France and Poland were now tightly bound. With his new-found ally, Napoleon then hoped  to claim the victory that been denied to him by Friederich-Wilhelm in the aftermath of Jena and Â
Auerstedt. Had Napoleon not, after all, promised his army an Austerlitz out east. Leveraging the  full might the French Empire, the Emperor would assert his will over the Kingdom of Prussia and  their Russian allies, pruning the thorns in his side with his most ambitious campaign yet.
17 Comments
LET'S GOOOOO
Yes finally we continue🙌🙌
Tbh the French would have been better off slowly but steadily building new ships to narrow the number gap with the royal navy Spain should have done the same but that’s my opinion
I don’t think napoleon is considering how his heavy handed diplomacy (if it should be referred to as that) might ensure his enemies would remain his enemies if France shows a slight hint of weakness they will strike again im sure Talleyrand knew this but napoleon seemed scarcely worried while this can be attributed to French military success thus far as I always say ignorance is bliss and arrogance is fatal
Your channel is superb.
I am glad to have subscribed.
My request to dwell deep into Napoleon private Life and habits.
Napoleon showed too much leniency to enemies, which ultimately proved fatal.
He did muttered later in Waterloo that he should have burned down Berlin we he had a chance.
*crowds adoration intensifies
👑
amazing work i hope you keep this amazing work going and the algorithm finds you. i feel your love for history in these videos and this is what truly makes them great, bc no amount of money can motivate a man as much as something he is truly passionate about.
This is legitimately peak Napoleon at his most strategically deadly we are hearing of a man and a group of men in the form of the marshals at the zenith of there lives and at that time at the vanguard of a new reality for his people and only one man could have told this story HISTORICALLY ADEQUATE
Vive l'Empereur!
Thank you
To be honest I do miss the subtitles!
🎉🎉
Excellent
This series is so much better than whatever abomination Ridley Scott made
Sir Blackadder. Thank you. I hope all is well. Saw your last video expressing your desires vis a vis your career and life. I too am in a change. I'm moving in with my parents in law on Saturday because both my and wife's parents need greater care; my daughter is moving out, and yet I have discovered Islam and am considering reverting. I hope all goes well with you and your loved ones, and will become a member when I have moved house etc… En Avant mon Ami! Peace and blessings be upon you.x BTW this episode kicked bottom as usual.
Historically Adequate exists.
Ridley Scott: I'll Ignore That