The Shadow of Great Britain

The journey from Dover to London is not exactly short, but fortunately, Napier accompanied Soult in conversation, so the atmosphere in the carriage was not only not dull, but could even be considered cheerful.

From a certain perspective, Arthur was rather thankful that the Foreign Office had sent Colonel Napier to Dover to welcome Soult together with him. Because even though Arthur was not an insignificant figure in the British government system and was not lacking in experience, as the saying goes, ”comparison kills.”

Sir Arthur could easily deal with blockheads like Bismarck and Herzen, but this did not prevent him from being overshadowed every time he faced Talleyrand. Even though Soult’s political skills were slightly inferior to Talleyrand’s, this French Marshal was still a veteran in the French military, from the Great Revolution to the present. Sitting in the same carriage with such a person, even without uttering a word, made one feel overawed.

But handling this job was evidently without concern for Napier. Once the two old soldiers were together, they didn’t even have to actively search for topics; they could have an enjoyable conversation all afternoon.

What surprised Arthur even more was that Soult not only knew about Napier’s publication ”Peninsula War History,” but had personally arranged for General Matthew Di Ma, Napoleon’s deputy chief of staff during the Peninsular War, to fully manage the publication of the French translation of ”Peninsula War History.”

The portrait of General Matthew Di Ma was painted by French artist Madam Louise Adelaide Deno.

It’s worth noting that Napier’s ”Peninsula War History” didn’t sell well in Britain at all; the Imperial Publishing was merely doing the book a favor without profit. Surprisingly, this work with mediocre sales in Britain piqued Soult’s interest across the English Channel in France.

Yet, thinking further, this situation doesn’t seem very difficult to comprehend. After all, the Duke of Wellington also raved about this book. To help Napier complete the latter volumes, Wellington even handed over all of Joseph Bonaparte’s (Napoleon’s elder brother, King of Spain) encrypted correspondence he captured in the Battle of Vitoria to Napier.

Thus, it seemed logical for Soult, one of the French Marshals during the Peninsular War, to favor the book, as many of the contents were initially unknown even to Soult himself.

Along the way, perhaps Soult was as enthused about talent as Wellington or perhaps he wished to be remembered in history like Arthur; in any case, he was almost entirely forthcoming with Napier’s inquiries. He generously shared the French Army’s strategic deployments during the Peninsular War, patiently explaining his strategic thinking at that time, and even candidly revealed the interpersonal conflicts within the French Marshal Corps at the time.

According to his account, the three French Marshals responsible for Spain at the time were almost all refusing to yield to each other, and Napoleon made a mistake by issuing conflicting orders with the Emperor’s signature simultaneously to various Marshals.

As a consequence:

Soult deemed himself ought to be the supreme military commander in Spain.

Marshal Ney considered Soult just a desk officer, insisted he answered only to the Emperor, and disregarded Soult’s directives.

And experienced revolutionary Marshal Massena looked down on these two newcomers, arguing that Soult was elevated by the Emperor and Ney lacked brains. Therefore, he felt his seniority entitled him to oversee affairs.

Looking back at the Peninsular War now, while Soult did not deny Wellington’s military genius, he felt a key reason Wellington could triumph over the French in Spain was because he quickly realized the discord among the three French Marshals and skillfully leveraged this intelligence. Because after Napoleon’s departure from Spain, the forces under the Marshals seldom truly coordinated, with adjacent corps’ support often delayed, and tactical failures among allies rarely promptly addressed.

Despite Soult’s continued praises for Wellington’s perceptive nature along the way, looking back on Arthur’s observations throughout the journey, it seemed noticing the discord among the French Marshals hardly required Wellington himself, as before the trip was even halfway through, Soult had already criticized all of France’s imperial commanders onboard.

Examples being:

Grouchy wasn’t a traitor, but his position was disproportionate to his capabilities, meaning he couldn’t command more than a few thousand men. I calculated each general’s value based on the numbers they could command. I’m not naming names, but among them were those who could command ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand, thirty thousand, forty thousand... and even sixty thousand when necessary. Commanding a hundred thousand is a task almost beyond the capabilities of the human mind. Napoleon made a significant mistake giving Grouchy so many men at Waterloo.

Marsol was smart and promising, but before his death, he possessed hardly any notable experience.

Moreau, Oudet, and Juno were mediocre and unremarkable.

Saint-Cyr was smart and a good officer but lacked ambition and vigor.

MacDonald worked methodically but wasn’t a great general.