A God of Destin: A Napoleon Timeline

Part One: Nemesis
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Part One: Nemesis


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"Napoleon on the Sands at Boulogne, France" by Andrew Carrick Gow

What is the whole history of England, but a continued scene of rapine and desolation, with now and then a few solitary intervals of repose?
~ William Sherwin, radical journalist and Napoleon sympathizer

Great Britain was a titan of all that France wasn't. Napoleon Bonaparte, now Napoleon I, had spent a decade of his wartime career hopelessly fighting Britain's mastery over the oceans, trade, finance, and international diplomacy. In 1793, Bonaparte had tried to command a naval assault on Sardinia, only to be overwhelmed by obstacles. Later that same year he had besieged Toulon, forced to face the Royal Navy as it supplied a whole city not even under their control. The Royal Navy had always troubled him, enriching France's enemies with British loans. It was to the point that Bonaparte's hero and icon, Pasquale Paoli, was transformed into a British client. When Bonaparte attempted a conquest of Egypt, the Royal Navy followed and ultimately destroyed his naval force, the Armée d'Orient's fleet, at the Battle of the Nile, dooming Bonaparte's expedition to a slow death by isolation and plague. Even now, a decade since the beginning of his conflicts with Britain, Bonaparte felt inflamed over Britain's break with the Treaty of Amiens and their seizure of Franco-Dutch ships without warning. It was 1805 (Nivȏse of year XIII on the French Republican Calendar), and the world was revolving around the English Channel.

Napoleon's words, "Let us be masters of the Channel for six hours and we are masters of the world." would christen the coming naval campaign, a campaign which Bonaparte envisioned as a final, decisive strike against France's arch-nemesis. The entire plan and coming operation was a longshot, not aided by Bonaparte's micromanagement and inexperience with naval warfare, but it wasn't an impossibility. In their current positions, France's fleets and that of it's ally, Spain, were broken up in portions in port-cities all throughout their respective nations. If these fleets were fully combined it would allow them to temporarily challenge British naval dominion, and possibly even guarantee Bonaparte his "six hours" to transport his armies across the Channel. Bonaparte hoped to rely on a snowball effect, essentially a first fleet would break out from its blockade in Toulon and move to Spain's port-cities, dispersing their smaller blockades and combining with the Spanish fleets. The now-combined Franco-Spanish fleet would then move across the Atlantic and into the Caribbean, with the intent of drawing away the Royal Navy from European waters. After combining with the other major French fleet, which would escape its blockade at Brest, the stage would be set for the final act: seizure of the English Channel.

The foundations of the plan were unstable. There existed a wide, wide ravine in talent, experience, and organization between the French and British navies. Becoming a great seaman required years of practice and devotion onboard a seafaring vessel. Britain had a long and prestigious seafaring tradition, and was constantly training new generations of officers and sailors. France's navy, while by no means weak (it was possibly second only to Britain's), was atrophied after constant defeats against Britain which continued to kill off or capitulate whatever talent France cultivated. The French Revolution itself had purged the French navy of its most capable men, and unlike in the army, the void of these officers could not be replenished without either time or victories. The French navy was also not prioritized, it was given less attention and less resources than the army, and had fallen far behind its British counterpart in bureaucratic efficiency. The only true way with which the French navy could outmatch the British navy was through pure numerical advantage, which is exactly what Bonaparte's plan was attempting to do.

Concerning the Caribbean, there existed the French colony of Saint-Domingue. Following a long, complex series of rebellions and civil conflicts between racial and economic groups on the colony, a specific group of pro-French ex-slaves under Toussaint Louverture had won absolute control. Bonaparte long agonized over the destiny of Saint-Domingue, and specifically, whether or not to overthrow Louverture with French military power. French ministers were under heavy pressure from the exiled (and extremely wealthy) planter elite of the colony, who manufactured constant propaganda of white citizens being massacred by blacks, to restore the old order in Saint-Domingue. Bonaparte himself was receptive to this propaganda, though after closer examination (as was usual for a micromanager like himself), restoring the "old order" seemed more and more impossible. Besides Louverture having already concentrated absolute power on the colony, both the Spanish and British had earlier attempted invasions of Saint-Domingue to no success. The British especially had mounted a previously unthinkable expedition of 30,000 soldiers and the full force of the Royal Navy, only to be trapped within Saint-Domingue's cities and decimated by yellow fever. Bonaparte resigned himself to the death of France's New World empire, and accepted Louverture's rule under a host of pro-French conditions. Louverture, as it would turn out, had never stopped considering himself a French citizen and Roman Catholic, even as Bonaparte contemplated his death.

Entering 1805, preparations were already well under-way for the English Channel campaign. In command of Toulon's fleet and of the entire operation was one Louis-René Levassor de Latouche Tréville, a beacon of talent and competence in the French navy. He was a pre-revolution naval commander, a rare breed, and one of a few men who had bested Horatio Nelson in open battle (something for which Nelson considered him his nemesis). As France's fleets remained in place, lazing around their port-cities, Bonaparte instituted a training regimen for the sailors under Tréville's guidance. "Active training" itself was a new, revolutionary practice, which was happening concurrently with the training of the Grande Armée off the English Channel coast at Boulogne. Bonaparte attempted to maintain total secrecy around both the future English Channel campaign and the invasion of England. It was hoped that if Britain's invasion fever was quelled, their government would be more willing to divert naval attention to the Caribbean once the time had come. Ultimately, total secrecy was impossible, though British public awareness of French plans remained too uncertain for mass calls to action on the part of the government. It would soon matter little though, as come March, the time was ready for the French navy to embody Destiny and set sail towards the unknown.

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Part One: Invidia
 
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Part Two: Oceanus
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Part Two: Oceanus


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"Oceanus the Titan" by KaFra Art

…if it be a sin to covet glory I am the most offending soul alive.
~ Horatio Nelson, commander of the British Mediterranean Fleet

It was March, 1805 (Ventȏse of year XIII on the French Republican Calendar), and Tréville's fleet of "Stygian crusaders" were escaping Toulon. Entering the Mediterranean Sea, what greeted him was both the fresh salt of open water and the British Mediterranean Fleet under the command of Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson. Horatio Nelson was a hero at home and an icon of the British war effort, renowned for his hatred of France and republicanism, and his near-suicidal aggressiveness in the face of the enemy (a trait for which he had been blinded in one eye and had lost one arm to amputation). Tréville had blackened Nelson's career with defeats during Nelson's earlier 1801 and 1803 raids on France's Boulogne invasion camp. Tréville admired Nelson and desired to "have another confrontation with his colleague", Nelson, meanwhile, flew into towering, insulting rages at the mention of Tréville's victories. He long desired to return him with a defeat. Nelson started the campaign with an ambush, attempting to trick Tréville into thinking his fleet was off the Spanish coast when, in reality, it was lying in wait near Sardinia. Setting sail between the Balearic Islands and Sardinia, Tréville encountered a Spanish merchant who warned him of the trap. Tréville raced towards Spain's port-cities instead, leaving Nelson impatiently waiting for a fleet that would never come.

Entering the Spanish city of Cartagena, Tréville pushed aside the much smaller blockade surrounding the local Spanish fleet. Tréville was lucky, for the fleet at Cartagena had only recently gotten orders from Madrid to prepare for the voyage. Had he arrived sooner, the Spanish fleet would've been caught flat-footed and incapable of joining him. Tréville and his now-combined fleet pressed on through the Strait of Gibraltar and to the city of Cádiz, where the situation of their Spanish fleet was similar to that in Cartagena. Having assembled two-thirds of the entire Spanish navy with him, Tréville began the second phase of Bonaparte's operation: the transatlantic crossing and entrance into the Caribbean. Nelson, meanwhile, having lost his prey was left to search the Mediterranean lost and half-blind. After combing the local waters for news of French whereabouts, he finally received confirmation that they had left for the Atlantic. Nelson was (rightfully) convinced that Tréville was heading towards the British West Indies, and so set off in pursuit.

Transatlantic crossings were always difficult and wracked ships and crews alike with damages and maladies. The provisional food was without important nutrients if it was the only thing eaten during long sails, and so diseases often burned through crew members (especially in the tropics of the Caribbean). Ocean swells, waves of brine, and storm batterings could force a fleet into repairs just as well as any battle. Ships also required regular careening in order to break off barnacle infestations, something only possible at a port. The only real positive aspect to this voyage was that, if Tréville worked speedily, Tréville's fleet could be repaired and prepared for the second transatlantic crossing back to Europe before Nelson's fleet had the chance to breathe. Once Tréville reached the West Indies in May, he set off to immediate work. The fleet was resupplied, British merchant convoys were captured, and local colonial settlements were raided for wealth and information (not totally dissimilar to the actions of privateers or pirates). Later in the month, France's second major fleet under the command of Honoré Joseph Antoine Ganteaume, which had successfully escaped its blockade around Brest through a fog cover, joined Tréville in the Caribbean. Tréville's Franco-Spanish combined fleet was now almost complete, with only a third of the Spanish navy in the city of Ferrol remaining. Leaving for Europe in early June, the exasperated Nelson reached the Caribbean and had just missed Tréville's fleet in leaving. Nelson, upon learning that Tréville had again left for the Atlantic, turned his fleet around and back towards Europe. This time, he was (incorrectly) convinced that Tréville would head back towards Cádiz and into the Mediterranean. It would only be later, on the cusp of the Battle of the Channel, that Nelson learned of his mistake.

The operation was now nearing its final phase. The key elements of Bonaparte's plan had been successful, though Tréville's fleet was still damaged, sailor morale was shot dead after two transatlantic crossings, and Franco-Spanish relations were not at ease. Upon reaching Ferrol, on the northern coast of Spain, the British blockade was scattered and all was now perfect for a final confrontation. And that final confrontation had to happen soon, as it was guaranteed that those British ships blockading Ferrol would soon launch frightful warnings to their high command in Great Britain. As Tréville crossed the Bay of Biscay, he conveyed a simple message to local commanders and Bonaparte himself: prepare the Boulogne flotilla for the invasion. A silent tension roared through the fleet as they made their way to the Calais-Dover crossing point, where the British Channel Fleet under the command of Admiral William Cornwallis (brother of Charles Cornwallis) waited to meet them. Bonaparte's plan was unsuccessful in drawing out elements of Cornwallis' fleet from the Channel, and Cornwallis' general strategy was to maintain a defensive posture until Nelson's fleet could catch up. At Boulogne, the Armée d'Angleterre and the Flottille de Boulogne (a somewhat confused mixture of minor gunboats, brigs, barges, and last-minute civilian vessels), waited for the oncoming battle. Surely, history would never forget it.

The Battle of the Channel began in simple steps. Tréville's fleet proceeded forward. Cornwallis' refused to move. As was usual for the English Channel, the skies were a sea of gray intermixed with beams of the sun's light. The waters were rough and choppy, prone to intermittent shifts and blasts of wind. The first shots entered from the British side, hitting the water and showering the Franco-Spanish vanguard in a giant spritz of gunpowder-laced sea spray. As the battle was beginning, Nelson read a new message from the British high command: a strongly-worded order to set off for Boulogne. Nelson, recognizing the seriousness of the situation, charged off for Boulogne, leaving some slower ships to catch up in his wake. The battle screamed in intensity as Tréville's fleet met the teeth of the British line. Smaller, light-weight British vessels wielded their superior seamanship to sail between and behind Franco-Spanish lines, doing what damage they could to Tréville's shocked flank. The Franco-Spanish fleet was such a mass that, despite suffering terribly under the British cannonade, it forced itself into a central position between the Boulogne invasion camp and Dover. The Flottille de Boulogne, despite being rightfully anxious about being transported directly through a battle scene, was assured that there would be no other time. And so, surrounded by gunpowder smoke, cannon explosions, and wrestling between gigantic warships, another mass of smaller boats carrying the Armée d'Angleterre raced for the English coast. The invasion force had been trained in amphibious assaults, however nothing could've prepared them for the hell that was this crossing. Boats, drowning with men and materiel, surged and weaved between cannon-propelled swells, the collapsing remains of shot-up frigates and ships of the line, and each other, forced into lost frenzies in hope of land. Great, pandemonius waves smashed into their bilges, while entangled nets doomed men to watery graves. However, hours into the battle, groups of tens of thousands began to reach beaches. English beaches.

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"The Mendi" by Hilary Jackson Graham

Reaching the scene of the battle, Nelson led his flagship, the HMS Victory, into the central duel where the two opposing fleets were most intermingled. As if possessed by an infernal, fatal spirit, Nelson howled orders at any British ship he encountered and charged around any Franco-Spanish ship of the line he could, laying waste with his cannonade. His servants and orderlies, one after another, were killed, literally ripped apart by enemy cannonballs. As has become legend, a cannonball blew apart where Nelson was standing. Losing his balance, Nelson collapsed into the English Channel itself. Understandably, as a man in uniform and with only one arm, Nelson thought he was going to die. The entire crew of the HMS Victory launched to his rescue, returning him to the ship with little difficulty. Nelson, covered in water and practically freezing, refused to give up command (though the HMS Victory returned to relatively safer waters). Nelson was not dead yet, even if the French desperately wanted him to be.

Upon learning that the first thousands of French troops had made contact with England, Bonaparte is reported to have exclaimed, in one of the few ecstatic moments of his career, "What a Navy! What an admiral! All our sacrifices, for this!"

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Part Two: Oceanus
 
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Part Three: Helios
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Part Three: Helios


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"The shore was covered with men ready for battle: Early Britons ready for battle as Caesar sails his galleys to find a suitable landing place" by Archibald Stevenson Forrest

…what is it in the situation of the French republic, on which can be founded a confidence… what is her character as a moral being? Who is there to testify her integrity?... Who bears testimony to her good faith? The states she has plundered, under the delusive but captivating mask of deliverance from tyranny!... They are the authors of all that misery, the fountain-head of all those calamities, which, marching by the side of an unblushing tyranny, have saddened and obscured the fairest and the gayest portions of Europe, which have deformed the face of nature wherever their pestiferous genius has acquired an ascendency… We are at war with armed opinions; we are at war with those opinions which the sword of audacious, unprincipled, and impious innovation seeks to propagate amidst the ruins of empires, the demolition of the altars of all religion, the destruction of every venerable, and good, and liberal institution… and this, in spite of the dissenting reason of men, in contempt of that lawful authority which, in the settled order, superior talents and superior virtues attain, crying out to them not to enter on holy ground, nor to pollute the stream of eternal justice;-admonishing them of their danger, whilst, like the genius of evil, they mimic their voice, and, having succeeded in drawing upon them the ridicule of the vulgar, close their day of wickedness and savage triumph with the massacre and waste of whatever is amiable, learned, and pious… We will not leave the monster to prowl the world unopposed… we cannot leave him on the throne of power… Whilst republican France continues what it is, then I make war against republican France… I must regard as an enemy, and treat as such, a government which is founded on those principles of universal anarchy
~ William Pitt the Younger, Prime Minister of Great Britain and conservative "independent Whig"

As intertwined flocks of the Flottille de Boulogne washed up on the shores of Romney Marsh and the town of Folkestone (just south of the White Cliffs of Dover), it quickly became clear that all order had broken down in the Armée d'Angleterre. Having narrowly escaped deaths in the Channel, the soldiers were set upon by gunfire and the cannonballs of Martello towers (small, cobblestone forts equipped with a cannon each). Under heavy pressure, command of individual regiments fell to whichever nearest man could best organize those closest to him. The town of Folkestone was stormed and its defenses entrenched, while small settlements up and down the coast, and buildings such as churches, were invaded and occupied in order to create some form of foothold. It's a testament to the leadership, experience, and training of the French army that it did not immediately dissolve once faced with overwhelming resistance. The citizens of these minor, rural hamlets were now, for the first time in centuries, occupied by an invading force. The English had not experienced warfare of this scale since William III had landed his expeditionary force in Devon, now known to history as the "Glorious Revolution". The Glorious Revolution would prove to be a sinister foretelling of 1805's events, as England's home army collapsed when face-to-face with continental veterans.

Britain's national army was a long-neglected appendage of the state, and was desperately behind its French counterpart in structure, composition, administration, and bureaucratic efficiency. France's army was the product of a baptism of fire: a decade of merciless warfare on all of France's frontiers, in addition to military revolutions in the strategic, tactical, administrative, logistical, and command spheres. After coming to power, Bonaparte had codified and formalized the military innovations of the French Revolution. Meritocracy allowed the lower ranks of the French army, previously exploding with underutilized talent, to become a new generation of officers and high commanders. The British military, meanwhile, still relied on aristocratic connections which had no real influence on wartime ability. Bonaparte instituted active training in the French army, a practice which Britain only temporarily instituted during the Royal Navy's long blockade duties, and which the army was exempt from. France's army was the only army in Europe wherein soldiers were trained in aiming and shooting at targets. France's army had miniature, mobile command centers, so that each section of the army could respond reflexively to the battlefield. France's army had standardized unit sizes, and maintained extensive documentation on all its men. Bonaparte believed that awards, honors, and regalia were great inspirers of men, and he was correct. His soldiers would fight to the death on the battlefield to prevent the enemy from snatching a single French Imperial Eagle. Britain's army wasn't the only force in Europe outmatched- soon, Austria, Russia, and Prussia's armies would fall. The Grande Armée of 1805 was a well-oiled, nearly unstoppable machine of conquest, and soon all of Europe would learn that fact.

Truthfully, there was little besides the Royal Navy stopping the Armée d'Angleterre from washing over England. During the climax of invasion fever, the British government had prepared for hundreds of thousands of militia men to interfere with a future French invasion, but to what end? The men of these militias were not soldiers, but middle-aged intellectuals like Robert Burns, Walter Scott, and Edward Austen Knight (husband of Jane Austen). These militias could barely be equipped, and in a humiliating act on the government's part, they tried to issue them pikes, weapons of the English Civil War in the 1600s. Other preparations had been made, like the previously mentioned Martello towers, as well as the "Royal Military Canal", which was meant to enclose Romney Marsh. However, these preparations were largely ineffectual due to a lack of time, financing, and attention. The Martello towers only had a single cannon, and so were but a nuisance to the invading French army. The Royal Military Canal was hardly finished, and so was useless for defense. Following a notoriously disastrous campaign in the Netherlands during the War of the First Coalition, King George III's second son, Prince Frederick, had come to the realization that reform was vital to the future of the British Army. During France's invasion, this process was still far from finished, though it would soon become the first priority of the government. Before that point, however, Britain was to be defeated.

As French regiments began to find stable footing, they reformed themselves into brigades, and then into divisions. The first and most important objective of day one was to capture the Downs, a strategically critical anchorage out of which was based British warships. With the Downs occupied, ships of the withdrawing Franco-Spanish fleet could take harbor on the English coast and continue to threaten the Royal Navy. The march to Dover proved simple, as the local garrison was pulverized after a short, but violent first encounter. Local citizens came out into the streets of Dover, shooting wildly and throwing stones at their French occupiers before being driven back inside their homes. The war over English public opinion was long lost, years of sensationalist journalism and invasion fever had seen to that. Marching northward up the coast of Kent was similar. Rich, sprawling greens, palatial manor houses, stonework bridges, and Kent's natural pleasantries were a welcome sight to the exhausted French soldiers, while the riotous locals were less so. Even when faced with the overwhelming power of the Armée d'Angleterre, there remained popular resistance. That is, there remained popular resistance for now. Following the capture of Dover, Deal, Sandwich, Ramsgate, Broadstairs, and finally Margate, night fell upon an impossibly tired army. It was the Armée d'Angleterre's first night in England, and even if they had occupied less towns than they possibly could've, Bonaparte was pleased with their actions. All knew that come sunrise, it would be the most glorious day of their lives. Tomorrow was the capture of London.

The Battle of the Channel, meanwhile, had gone less favorably since the Flottille de Boulogne had landed. The Royal Navy acted with audacious exactness, annihilating entire portions of the Franco-Spanish fleet through defeat in detail. All that Tréville had worked for was ravaged, despite his best efforts to the contrary. The battle continued throughout the Strait of Dover for hours until Tréville learned of the fate of the Downs. A general retreat was ordered, and Tréville's warships took up defensive positions in local English port-towns while continuing to suffer terribly as the Royal Navy crashed down upon them. The Franco-Spanish fleet was not yet fully defeated (it was much too large to be completely destroyed), but the naval battle itself was lost. All French failure was soon forgotten, however, once the British government learned the full details of what had happened. French soldiers were occupying Kent. The entire Royal Navy might as well have been destroyed and their reaction would not have changed. Doom. Terror. Hopelessness. These were the end-times.

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Map of England's cities and "great towns"

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Map of England's "front lines", present

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Part Three: Sol
 
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I'm thinking about what a peace deal could look like here. Spain getting Trinidad and perhaps Gibraltar. The Knights getting Malta returned to them. France pressing for the Channel Islands and/or a return of all French colonial island possessions captured during the French Revolutionary wars... Where is the Batavian fleet in all of this?
 
Part Four: Hermes
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Part Four: Hermes


Luxury and extravagance, we are told, "makes good for trade;" and under the present system it does so. But, can any rational being suppose that society is founded on right principles, when we find its effects are to render luxury and extravagance advantageous? Have we really brought our minds to suppose, that the more we squander, the more we shall have? Are we for ever to be told, that the man who is spending thousands in the gratification of some absurd whim, is doing good, because he circulates money amongst tradesmen, and because he furnishes employment for a number of working men? Every labouring man, so employed, is a useless member of society, for the produce of his labour is useless; and the effect is, a direct tax on the productive labourer usually employed. This state of things will have an end; the system is as weak as it is absurd and destructive….. There is nothing like instances
~ William Sherwin, radical journalist and Napoleon sympathizer

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(From left to right) "Charles XIV John of Sweden" by François Gérard, "General Charles Victoire Emmanuel Leclerc" by François Kinson, "Marshal Charles Pierre François Augereau" by Robert Lefèvre, "Marshal Guillaume Marie-Anne Brune" by Marie-Guillemine Benoist and Eugène Bataille

The night proceeding the Battle of the Channel remained as much a whirlwind of action as the battle itself. The Strait of Dover, clogged with shipwrecks, pileups of abandoned boats, and gigantic burning piles of flotsam, proved the perfect cover for a second wave of light-weight, fast vessels to reinforce the Armée d'Angleterre. A dense, humid mist had also rolled in (not aided by the storm of gunpowder unleashed in the battle), which allowed the two navies on either side of the Channel, one the remains of Tréville's Franco-Spanish fleet, the other the Batavian Navy, to partially support the reinforcement efforts. The Batavian Navy, belonging to France's vassal, the Batavian Commonwealth (soon to make the transition towards becoming a Bonapartist monarchy), had actually commanded the right wing of the Flottille de Boulogne. Dutch sailors were among those involved in the hellish crossing at the Strait of Dover, and the whole of the Batavian Navy played a major role in protecting the retreating Franco-Spanish fleet from total destruction (though the Batavian Navy could never hope to match the Royal Navy). The Dutch Vice-Admiral Carel Hendrik Ver Huell was a personal favorite and confidant of Bonaparte, who had previously earned glory through protecting the Batavian Navy on its dangerous mission to join with the Flottille de Boulogne. Now, as the moon rose over thousands of uniformed corpses on the seafloor of the English Channel, Bonaparte had another extremely important mission for Ver Huell. The commanders of the Armée d'Angleterre, Bonaparte's newly christened "Marshals of the Empire", had to be transported to England. Ver Huell, never one to abandon a call to glory, quickly accepted.

There were to be four Marshals in command of the Armée d'Angleterre, some because of Bonaparte's personal confidence, others because they were most useful removed from France's political scene. Holding command in England was going to be a powerful, but extremely isolated position. It would be impossible for Bonaparte to maintain active control in England without the Royal Navy's interference, and so the people commanding the Armée d'Angleterre would be, by nature, acting independently. Bonaparte was in desperate need of commanders who could operate without him (not a trait he cultivated in his subordinates), and his choices reflect his lack of real options.

First and foremost was Jean-Baptiste Jules Bernadotte, Bonaparte's behated on-and-off again rival. "His courage, personality, and physical beauty captivated all who approached him. Tall, erect, with masses of coal black hair, the great hooked nose of a falcon, and dark flashing eyes", Bernadotte was a vindictive, cunning, utterly ambitious soul who loathed to serve under someone he thought his equal. Bernadotte and Bonaparte, as two powerful, ambitious men with imaginations full of grandeur and different bases of support, commonly felt their egos stumble and hit each other on their respective paths to power. In spite of this antagonism, however, Bonaparte never failed to see Bernadotte's worth as a political and military leader. This was to the point that Bonaparte considered Bernadotte a potential successor in the event of his death, and to be the only man besides himself able to successfully rule France. Bernadotte, through a marriage to the sister of Joseph Bonaparte's (Napoleon Bonaparte's older brother's) wife, was part of Napoleon's extended family, and thus due his respect. And so, he was granted the most senior command position over the Armée d'Angleterre. Bernadotte, as a man who could be both a generous, warm-hearted, and charismatic administrator, as well as a secretive intriguer, was perhaps more suited to the English occupation than any other Marshal.

Bernadotte's deuteragonist would be Charles Leclerc, the mediocre avatar of Bonaparte's "great man" dreams. Leclerc was a somewhat talented, if unremarkable soldier, elevated to the station of Marshal far beyond his actual abilities. Bonaparte saw in Leclerc future glories, and a man like himself. It was under these auspices that Leclerc underwent a shocking pace of promotion for someone with so little to his name, and married into the Bonaparte family as husband to Pauline Bonaparte, Napoleon's younger sister. Perhaps more important than military ability, however, was Leclerc's devotion to Bonaparte's interests, especially as a counterweight to the self-aggrandizement of Bernadotte. As second-in-command, Leclerc could ensure that Bernadotte's talent as a commander was utilized without sacrificing Bonaparte's personal political power to his rival.

Onto Ver Huell's transport was also Charles-Pierre Augereau, who's final destination was not actually England. Bonaparte's original intention was for Augereau, who commanded a smaller invasion camp around the city of Brest, to make for Ireland and instigate local rebellions there similar to the Irish Rebellion of 1798. However, with Tréville's ultimate defeat and the Royal Navy restoring its control over the English Channel, a direct move towards Ireland had become a far and away impossibility. Augereau was a man built for this kind of dangerous adventure to the edges of Europe. He was a strong-built giant compared to the French public in the 1800s, and he mocked aristocratic tradition, sophistication, and intellectualism. He was born a poor, hot-blooded Paris rat, who loved women, stolen riches, and radical republicanism. That last principle had alienated Augereau from Bonaparte, who, after failing to conquer Augereau's Jacobinism through gifts of wealth, honors, and titles, sent him on this British adventure as a form of pseudo-exile.

Last and least in terms of power, Bonaparte's respect, and talent, was Guillaume Brune. Brune was an emotional and artistic soldier, poet, and republican who had served patriotically during the French Revolutionary Wars, even as an instrument of actions he personally disagreed with, such as the spoliation of Switzerland in 1798. Bonaparte long distrusted Brune's military abilities, and it's true that Brune was sub-average at large-scale actions, and at exploiting French advantages (his talent lay more in administration, organization, small-scale actions, and counterinsurgency warfare). Brune's appointment to the position of Marshal was largely political, so as to tie Bonaparte's reign to the legacy of the French Republic. Brune, perhaps more than any other Marshal, never forgot his republican origins or his past friends, the important Montagnards George Danton and Camille Desmoulins. Such was it that Brune trained soldiers at Boulogne rather than hold a more influential position, and was sent with his compatriots to England, where he couldn't challenge Bonaparte's status quo.

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"1800's London Sunset" by unknown

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"St Martin-in-the-Fields" by William Logsdail

Contrary to France's naval war up to this point, Ver Huell's crossing of the Strait of Dover went without incident. As is retold in the memoirs of the Marshals, the affair was painfully long, void of sounds except for occasional shots in the distance and disembodied screams carried along by the wind. A violent squall temporarily threatened the expedition, but it subsided before Ver Huell was forced to retreat. Once the Marshalate was landed at Dover, Bernadotte immediately put to restoring order in the command structure. Large bodies of soldiers were still pushed together at random, in ad hoc improvisations of actual units led by whoever was most willing. There would be no sleep for the Marshalate as it completed the painful, but critical charge of reordering every man in the invasion force. Come morning, organization was far from reestablished, but a conquest of London was now, at least, possible. The absolute glory of vanquishing Great Britain, eternal enemy of France, was soon to be Bernadotte's bliss. He could taste it. If the Armée d'Angleterre moved at an accelerated pace, then King George III, Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger, and Home Secretary Lord Hawkesbury could be imprisoned. With the leaders of the government captured, all future resistance would collapse. And all honor, and all worship, and all the fruits of this victory, would be Bernadotte's.

The British Army, under the command of Charles Cornwallis, 1st Marquess Cornwallis, stationed itself at Canterbury in the center of Kent. Cornwallis was an elder British statesman, a product of the unimaginable wealth and privilege of the most elite echelons of British aristocratic society. He had a storied, generally successful military career, and was personally forward-thinking for a man of his age and station. This campaign would prove to be the end of Cornwallis' histories, however, as once Bernadotte attempted a simple two-pronged attack on Canterbury from his positions in Dover and Margate, Cornwallis caught an unknown illness from his service on the battlefield, and was made inoperative. Outmatched, disadvantaged, and now devoid of leadership, the British Army attempted a general retreat towards London. France's forces were infamous throughout Europe for their unthinkable speed, and the British Army's retreat soon became an unorganized, routed mass as Bernadotte's men desolated whatever bodies of British soldiers were too slow. Minor engagements occurred at Faversham, Sittingbourne, Rochester, and finally, the main body of the British Army was broken asunder at Gravesend. London was now free.

On the roads, streets, and paths of London was a new British ocean, consisting of overflowing lakes, rivers, and waterfalls. London was not home to new bodies of water, no, this was an ocean of human flesh, sweat, fear, and desperation. The small artisanal workshops which formed the economic heart of London were left abandoned. Stampedes of escaped cattle, meant for marketplace trading, roamed wild and loose. Refugees occupied all sights. Mansions were stripped of open wealth. Mobs prepared to resist the French occupation with whatever was available. Bernadotte instated iron discipline amongst his men so as not to agitate the overwhelming populace of London, but the fight for London's hearts and minds was lost long ago. French task forces charged through refugee trains to occupy the traditional power bases in the city, all while riots and arson attacks exploded across the most anti-French of London's boroughs. Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger was located at his residence, in convalescence and so diseased he could not even flee. King George III and William Pitt the Younger's ministers were nowhere to be found. Apparently, the Armée d'Angleterre was too late. As Bernadotte watched the London skyline, smokestacks forming, violent echoes in the air, chaos abuzz, he experienced, what seemed to him, as all glory escaping his lifetime.

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Map of England's cities and "great towns"

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Map of England's "front lines", present

AGOD
Part Four: Mercury
 
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So the british government pulled a Portugal and fled?
I wonder where they'll go if they dont get captured while trying to escape the island, the US is currently looking greedy at Canada and I dont think any of the other colonies look particularly attractive to the british
 
So the british government pulled a Portugal and fled?
I wonder where they'll go if they dont get captured while trying to escape the island, the US is currently looking greedy at Canada and I dont think any of the other colonies look particularly attractive to the british
Alls I can say is that everything will make sense in the next episode :)
Though I will hint, outracing the French army and getting to the coast itself won't be an easy job for a government fleeing London
 
So the british government pulled a Portugal and fled?
I wonder where they'll go if they dont get captured while trying to escape the island, the US is currently looking greedy at Canada and I dont think any of the other colonies look particularly attractive to the british
Alls I can say is that everything will make sense in the next episode :)
Though I will hint, outracing the French army and getting to the coast itself won't be an easy job for a government fleeing London
There always Scotland or Ireland
 
I tend to think that the King and his circle/cabinet won't leave Great Britain, but plan to wait for British troops to return from abroad and then smash the French who end up encircled and trapped because the Royal Navy restores dominance of the English Channel. The challenge is in the interim risking the French introducing ideas into the portion of England under their ephemeral rule such as Catholic emancipation and broader if not universal suffrage. Also, there may be symbolic gains if suddenly mass at Westminster Abbey is in Latin, even just once...
 
Part Five: Zeus
AGOD
Part Five: Zeus


The king certainly has his camp equipage and accoutrements quite ready for joining the army if the enemy should land, and is quite keen on the subject and angry if any suggests that the attempt may not be made… God forbid he should have the fate of Harold [Godwinson]…
~ an unknown British courtier to King George III

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"The Banquet at the Coronation of George IV" by George Jones

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"The Apotheosis of Hoche" by James Gillray

French Imperial Eagles and the regimental banners of the Armée d'Angleterre flew triumphantly in the raw, dusky skies of London. A military procession marched into Westminster Abbey in all its Protestant, Gothic Revival-ist glory. Westminster Abbey was a draft-struck monster of a church, in a state of clear abandonment. Dust had crawled in, valuables were ripped from its surfaces, and a colossal, opulent chandelier had crashed onto the ground (likewise broken apart for its wealth). All the warmth and amber gold of King George III's coronation in 1761 was gone. The Palace of Westminster was little different, and it appeared as if it was at the eye of a hurricane. Its ornamental architecture was in collapse, and government papers, clothes, and paraphernalia were scattered throughout its great halls. All but a handful of Parliamentarians had fled London, and those who remained were either unable to leave via age, sickness, or responsibilities in the city, or were pro-peace Radical Whigs. St Paul's Cathedral, a towering Anglican monolith over the London skyline, became the center of a neighborhood inferno following a gang war between native Londoner "militiamen" and French soldiers. On the orders of Leclerc, the infamous London gallows, the "Tyburn tree", was publicly demolished following one last execution. James Gillray, known throughout Europe as a satirical printmaker and caricaturist who criticized the British political establishment, the French Revolution, and Bonaparte, would be the last death of "God's Tribunal." The London Stock Exchange was captured, as was the Bank of England. Britain's centralized and modern financial institutions allowed it unprecedented economic power in its wars, wherein British gold was often behind the armies of France's continental enemies. The economic shockwaves of capturing London were alone a godsend for the Armée d'Angleterre, which was already running out of critical materiel. Bernadotte and his staff officers decided to set up the new command center of the French occupation in Buckingham Palace as a demonstration of French power. A now-famous incident occurred upon the takeover of Buckingham Palace, wherein Augereau sat on the throne of King George III, reclined, and joked to his subordinates about how it was more uncomfortable than his mother's old sitting chair. Bonaparte would later rebuke Augereau upon learning of his actions.

The Marshalate had little time or resources to celebrate their London glories. King George III and the second Pitt ministry were gone from London, and if their escape was successful the Armée d'Angleterre would have no choice but to conquer England rather than force an unconditional surrender on Britain's leadership. Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger was under French custody, but he absolutely refused to negotiate with his French occupiers and his moribund physical condition obstructed his use. William Pitt the Younger was a titan of British conservatism, and the public "face" of Britain's war effort against France. His entire career as a politician consisted of extinguishing revolution, republicanism, and radicalism. Now, half in the grave, he chose to remain still, sit quiet, drink his last glasses of port wine, and die without sacrificing his dignity to the French. Frankly, Bernadotte didn't have time for this. As reports broke out of England and into Europe of France's invasion, the (already Francophobic) royal courts of Europe went white. This was the death knell of Great Britain, the total collapse of the ancient, God-fearing order in Europe. A third anti-French coalition was already in formation, but British defeats solidified the influence of pro-war factions across Europe. Bonaparte was going to face these challenges, but to do so he needed much of the men, funding, and materiel going to the Armée d'Angleterre. Bernadotte was on a time limit to achieve fait accompli, or else this war was going to be much longer and bloodier than anyone wanted.

Under Bernadotte's command the Marshals were divided. Bernadotte himself would lead a "lightning" campaign to capture King George III in his escape attempt. Leclerc would lead the capture of artillery and gunpowder magazines being shipped from the Royal Arsenal in Woolwich to Weedon Bec along the Grand Junction Canal. Augereau would command a general invasion force to consolidate France's occupations in the south east of England. Brune would remain in London to formalize the new French administration and strike down civilian insurgency. There would only be around a month until Bonaparte was forced to empty the Armée d'Angleterre for his continental campaign against Austria, and so all four Marshals ran off to their respective commands.

The missions of Leclerc, Augereau, and Brune largely went without incident. Leclerc intercepted the Royal Arsenal's transport, storming the ordnance shipments before they could be taken up-canal, though, in a humiliating testament to Leclerc's abilities, dozens of French soldiers drowned after repeated failures at navigating the Grand Junction Canal resulted in capsizing. Augereau semi-competently consolidated French control over Kent, Sussex, and Surrey, culminating in the anti-climactic Battle of Brighton which ended almost as soon as it began, though he seemed to be gone of his past bravado and fighting spirit. Brune operated to the best of his talent: the remaining London intelligentsia were incorporated into the French administration, French instances of plundering were broken up and their goods redistributed, and order in the central boroughs of London was somewhat restored. And yet, every London borough not under the French administration's watch and musket was still in a state of mixed riot, rebellion, and conspiracy. The economic-social implosion which had led to the anti-Catholic Gordon Riots in 1780 seemed to haunt London's populace. Protestants, English patriots, thieves, demagogues, ex-militiamen, the destitute, refugees, debtors, and all the most hopeless citizens of Britain swarmed to London. Flames consumed families, homes, and businesses. The urban warfare was brutal: blood and feces mixed in the street gutters, corpses formed islands, and the River Thames turned blood red. This affair would be called the "Augustian Insurrection" after the month it occurred, August, and a few half-mob, half-militias who called themselves Augustians. True to its name, the Augustian Insurrection would not be resolved until September of 1805, after weeks of violent street battles.

Come Bernadotte's mission, none could have ever expected how fateful it was, or how much it changed the future of Britain. Bernadotte himself was a mediocre commander who relied on his personal charisma and magnetism to inspire his men, but where he shined brightest was the chase. Bernadotte, as if a predator, could mercilessly hunt his enemies to their limits, before closing in at a final encounter. His plan was to close off all of King George III's room to maneuver, and then descend upon his position and capture the monarch. From the intel Bernadotte was receiving, the king had originally moved towards Dartford, outside of London, before reorienting himself towards the Midlands. The king was moving faster than expected, abandoning his supply trains and calling up militia units willing to fight the French on the field. Bernadotte charged into the English countryside at the head of most of the Armée d'Angleterre's cavalry, hoping to outrace the king to Coventry. The king recognized Bernadotte's move and detached himself from the last wagons and carriages restricting his movements, and likewise blitzed towards Coventry. Due to being the smaller group, having the most trained (and most expensive) horses, and knowing the local terrain better, the king arrived at Coventry first. There was to be no ceremony, however, as the king soon left northwards on a path to the towns of Macclesfield, Stockport, and finally, the city of Liverpool, where a naval escape awaited him. Bernadotte arrived at Coventry a little while afterwards, fighting a minor engagement against untrained, newly-assembled militiamen who hoped to slow him down. Bernadotte could recognize the king's movements, and he recognized that the king's path to Liverpool was not the most direct route possible. Bernadotte charged again, this time over the rough, untamed forested hillsides of northern Wales. In this instance, Bernadotte's talent and determination in traversing his environment won him the speedier path to Warrington, a town positioned right outside Liverpool. The king was becoming trapped- he raced northwards again, hoping to connect to any coastal town, but Bernadotte was facing him at every turn. On the verge of August and September, 1805, King George III entered the town of Blackburn and began raising local militiamen to oppose Bernadotte on the field of battle. This would be the king's final destination, and the town of Blackburn would give its name to this whole affair, the "Blackburn March".

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"A market scene" by Francesco Bassano the Younger

Bernadotte viewed Blackburn's horizon from a neighboring ridge. He was exhausted, his clothes were torn and muddied, and he had gone weeks suffering northern English weather, and terrain, and having northern England's violent gales blasting down on him. Even now, just as he was ordering King George III's capture, storm clouds dark enough to blacken the sun approached his position. Bernadotte rubbed his eyes. Bonaparte could function with a few hours of sleep, but Bernadotte was falling apart. Another forced march and, he half-joked, the horses would mutiny. Small, freezing droplets of rain bit into his skin, forcing Bernadotte to cover himself with rags. It must've been an unnerving sight- thousands of torches lighting up the ridgeline, all belonging to exhausted but unshaken cavalry veterans wearing shadows for shrouds. Bernadotte ordered the storming of Blackburn and so the cavalry made its final charge, forced along by pure momentum through street barricades and lines of half-equipped citizen soldiers. There was nothing Bernadotte could do to stop the ensuing slaughter. Cavalrymen roamed Blackburn's streets, cutting into masses of innocents. Weeks upon weeks of stress, pressure, and purposeless pain was unleashed in this horrific, violent form upon the people of Blackburn. Only once a lightning bolt struck Blackburn's tallest metal implement, silencing all with its thunderclap, did Bernadotte's screams to locate King George III get through to his men. The king's corpse was found in a mud-filled ditch on the outskirts of Blackburn, supposedly cut down as he led his men's defense. Bernadotte went pale. This was the most disastrous possible outcome to this campaign. King George III was dead, Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger was soon to be dead, and the War of the Third Coalition was about to begin. Napoleon's France had, in this second instance, entered into the regicides.

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Map of England's cities and "great towns"

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Map of England's "front lines", present

AGOD
Part Five: Jupiter
 
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Oh God, Georgie is dead
This is bad, I almost wish he got to flee the island now, but oh well
Still find pretty funny how Bernadotte is worried about how people will react to France commiting regicide, my guy this line was crossed a while ago
But ya Nappy will have to deal with yet another coalition now, everybody will be freaking out about this and how before the king's death the french sat on his throne, it's all sinister symbolism for them
 
So where is the rest of the royal family? George IV reigning earlier will be interesting. One wonders how the circumstances of George III's demise will be viewed across the pond...
 
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