This second volume of Philip Dwyer's biography of Napoleon begins with the coup of Brumaire in November 1799. The book provides plenty of evidence to support the view of Napoleon as tyrant, as someone who was actually worse than a "great bad man", the phrase adopted by the historian of the Napoleonic wars, David Chandler, from Lord Clarendon's famous description of Oliver Cromwell.
A number of themes emerge that serve to erode the Napoleonic legend. Napoleon had a propensity to propagandise victories, particularly Marengo in 1800. This battle was also significant in that it convinced Napoleon of the connection between victory in battle and public opinion (p. 47). It could be said to be the origin of the megalomania that was to culminate in defeat in Russia. Moreover, the lip service paid to the demos through the cynical use of the plebiscite allowed Napoleon to legitimise his rule as First Consul, and then as Emperor, as a manifestation of the people's will.
The Civil Code (later the Code Napoleon), which is seen as his lasting legacy, was "neither inspired" (p. 88) nor written by Napoleon. The brutal abduction and execution of the Bourbon prince, the Duc d'Enghien, in 1804 by a "kangaroo court" (p. 121) compares unfavourably with the death of Louis XVI. As Dwyer points out, even "the revolutionaries observed legal procedure" (p. 121).
The emergence of a cult of personality and Napoleon's promiscuous nepotism are documented. Dwyer rightly does not see him as a precursor of totalitarianism but rather as a throwback to the absolutism of Louis XIV.
Napoleon's vanity was shameless. For example, he downplayed the more significant French victory at Auerstaedt in 1806 in favour of his triumph at Jena on the same day. There is an interesting portrayal of Napoleon's reaction to the bloody battle of Eylau in February 1807: a mixture of some human feeling for the suffering of the soldiery and a cynical disregard for the truth that the Russians had fought his forces to a standstill. Dwyer brilliantly documents the use of art as a propaganda tool and the way in which it was used, in some instances, to portray Napoleon as a Christ-like figure of compassion and, in others, to show him as a worthy successor to the heroes of Antiquity.
1807 was the zenith of Napoleon's career. The Peace of Tilsit marked the height of his popularity, but was also the beginning of the descent to ultimate defeat. It did not solve the Russian or British problems; it was also around this time that Napoleon's physical and mental powers began to wane. Moreover, he acquired the intractable problem of Spain, a decision that Dwyer ascribes to a combination of arrogance and feelings of invincibility. Dwyer argues that the withdrawal of British forces in early 1809 coupled with punitive measures against the Spanish resistance convinced Napoleon that the revolt had been crushed. However, he failed to realise the nature of the war that he had provoked in the Peninsula.
Like other revisionists, Dwyer strips away at the notion of Napoleon as military genius interpreting many of his successes as having been built upon the efforts of others, such as Desaix at Marengo and especially Davout at Jena-Auerstaedt. The energy and derring-do of his first Italian campaign would not be repeated as he assumed more and more the responsibilities and burdens of command given the size of the forces at his disposal. In the end, in Russia especially, the command of such forces proved too much for even someone of his talent. It is perhaps no coincidence that Napoleon's most effective performance in the latter part of his career was to be in 1814 when he was commanding much smaller forces. Unfortunately for him, it was a futile effort as the Allies closed in on Paris.
Dwyer acknowledges the Napoleonic quest for decisive battle from Austerlitz on (p. 208). However, he also alludes to the changes in warfare that were heralded during these years, in particular, the extended frontages caused by sheer weight of numbers that led to attritional battles, notably at Wagram in 1809 and Borodino in 1812 where the casualty count from one day of battle would not be surpassed until the battle of the Somme (p. 385). Moreover, Napoleon's fixation on battle proved costly as, despite some hesitation, he ploughed on with the Russian campaign in the face of his enemy's strategy of avoiding a clash of arms.
Those who believe that Napoleon wished to acquire "universal empire" would have understood the logic of his decision to invade Russia. In reality, it marked the point at which his star truly descended. In Dwyer's words, the occupation of a two-thirds destroyed Moscow saw him go "from being an active agent of his own destiny to a passive agent" (p. 395).
French losses in Russia were staggering: 85 per cent of the army in dead, wounded, deserters, and prisoners (p. 426). Yet Napoleon still had the self-confidence to believe that he could raise a new army and maintain his empire in Central Europe.
Napoleon would later confess that the armistice of Plaeswitz, which divided the spring and autumn campaigns of 1813, was the "dumbest decision" of his life (p. 448). The latter of these campaigns culminated in the battle of Leipzig, the biggest battle in world history at that time, where Allied numerical superiority told.
When the possibility of a negotiated settlement to the conflict arose in late 1813, Napoleon refused it. Dwyer believes that Napoleon's determination to fight on against increasing odds owed much to an inability to compromise that had been apparent as far back as his days in Corsica. His relatively humble origins were also a factor: "He was convinced that he had to keep on producing victories in order to justify his existence because he could not overcome his own inner doubts that he was no more than an upstart." (p. 468.) Moreover, Dwyer demonstrates that the myth that Napoleon was betrayed, and not defeated, in 1814 was just that: a French variant of the German "stab in the back" of 1918.
Dwyer describes the exile in Elba in more detail than many accounts before concluding with an analysis of the Hundred Days and Napoleon's subsequent abdication.
With 139 pages of notes and a bibliography covering a further 70 pages, Dwyer's work is a testament to his scholarly rigour. This book is a necessary corrective to those who continue to extol the Napoleonic legend, and should be read by anyone with an interest in the period and/or an interest in the lives of significant historical figures.