TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT.
Scarcely had the emperor crossed the threshold of the audience hall,
when it resounded with cheers and the constantly-repeated shout of
"_Vive l'Empereur_!" He thanked the envoys of Poland for these
greetings, and quickly approached them. They presented a magnificent
spectacle in their national costume, adorned as it was with gorgeous
embroidery and diamonds. "Introduce these gentlemen to me, Talleyrand,"
he said; "I will cherish in my memory the names of those whom henceforth
I shall regard as friends!"
When Talleyrand presented them in succession, Napoleon listened to each
of their high-sounding old aristocratic names with a kindly nod and a
gracious air, which delighted the hearts of the Poles.
"Sire," said the Count of Dombrowsky, a silvery-haired man of seventy
years--"sire, in bending our knees before your majesty, we represent
all Poland, which is exclaiming, 'God save Napoleon the Great!--the
liberator of nations!'"
"God save Napoleon the Great!--the liberator of nations!" echoed the
others, kneeling down and extending their arms toward the emperor.
"Liberator of nations!" repeated Napoleon, smiling. "No one can liberate
nations unless they do so themselves."
"But, in order to liberate themselves, the nations stand in need of a
noble and high-minded chieftain!" exclaimed the old count. "Sire, the
Polish nation trusts in you; it is on its knees, praying your majesty
that you may become the liberator whom it has so long looked for. The
great Napoleon has arisen upon France like a sun--he has come, seen, and
vanquished the universe! O invincible Cæsar! In seeing you, all my
wishes and those of my countrymen are fulfilled! Already we consider our
country as saved, for in your person we worship the wisest and most
equitable of legislators. You will redeem us! You will not permit Poland
to be dismembered. Oh, sire, Poland puts her trust in the redeemer of
nations! Poland puts her trust in Napoleon the Great, who will raise her
from her degradation!"
"Poland puts her trust in you," repeated the Poles; and, in the
enthusiasm of their patriotism, forgetful of etiquette, they crowded
around Napoleon, and, again kneeling, kissed his hands and the hem of
his garment.
Napoleon smilingly allowed them to do so, but his eyes assumed a graver
expression. "Rise now, gentlemen," he said, "I have received through you
the homage of poor, weeping Polonia, but now let me receive also in you
the brave sons of this unhappy land, and speak to the _men_ of Poland.
Rise.'"
The Poles rose, and looked with beaming eyes and in breathless suspense
at the emperor, whose face exhibited the austere regularity of a statue
of ancient Rome.
"It would afford me the liveliest pleasure to see the royal throne of
Poland restored," he said, "for it would also secure the independence of
the adjoining states, which are now threatened by the unmeasured
ambition of Russia. But words and idle wishes are not sufficient. When
the priests, the nobility, and the citizens, make common cause--when
they are determined to conquer or die--then they will triumph, and may
count on my protection."
"Sire, the nobility, priests, and citizens, are already united and
resolved," exclaimed Count Dombrowsky. "We are only waiting for our
liberator to proclaim our independence."
Napoleon assumed a very serious air. "I cannot proclaim your
independence before you are determined, sword in hand, to defend your
rights as a nation."
"Sire, we are so determined!" unanimously shouted the Poles.
The emperor received this interruption with a gracious smile and added:
"You have been upbraided with losing sight of your genuine interest, and
of the welfare of your country, during your long-continued domestic
dissensions. Taught by your misfortunes, be harmonious, and prove to the
world that the whole Polish nation is animated by one spirit."
"Sire, we will prove it to the world," exclaimed the Poles, lifting up
their hands, as if taking a solemn oath.
The emperor turned his stern eyes slowly and piercingly from one to
another. He apparently wished to greet them all, and to read the
innermost recesses of their hearts. Then he said, in a loud voice, "The
restoration of Poland requires blood--blood, and again, _blood_!"
"Sire, we are joyously ready to shed ours for the sacred cause of the
fatherland," exclaimed Count Raczinsky. "We wish to know only, or at
least hope, that it will not be in vain. Sire, Poland is extending her
arms toward you; she is beckoning you with a passionate love; she is
longingly calling to you, 'Great Cæsar, come to my aid, that the sun may
once more beam upon me--that you may disperse the long night of my
torture, and that a happy day may again dawn for me!' Oh, sire, will you
listen to the supplications of Poland?--will you come to her and break
her chains?"
"No," said Napoleon, "I will not go to weeping Poland, shaking her
chains, and only wailing and complaining instead of acting, but I will
go to the men and heroes of Poland, who have thrown off their fetters,
and shed their blood for their country! Go home and tell this to your
countrymen, and ask _them_ when I shall come!"
"Sire, they will say as we say now, 'God save Cæsar! We clash our
swords, and dance the sacred war-dance, that he may come and let us see
his face!'"
"As soon as it is time," said Napoleon, significantly. "Go, my friends,
and tell your countrymen so. The time for weeping is past--that for
action has come. Improve it, and be wise. Return home as fast as you
can, for I should like to be with you before the present year has
expired. Farewell!"
He greeted them in so winning a manner that, charmed with his
affability, they again enthusiastically shouted, "Long live Napoleon the
Great, the liberator of nations!" Amid the cheers of the sanguine Poles,
Napoleon returned to the small reception-room, accompanied by
Talleyrand, whom he had beckoned to follow.
"Well," asked he when they were alone, "what do you think of it? Will
the Poles rise?"
"I am convinced of it, sire! Your words were like the steel striking the
flint, and kindling the tinder of their national ardor. It will burn,
sire--burn so brightly that Russia, Austria, and Prussia, may be badly
injured in their Polish provinces."
"Certainly not Austria," said Napoleon, quickly; "for the rest, we shall
know how to extinguish the fire as soon as it burns too extensively.
Forward your dispatch to our ambassador in Vienna to-day. He is to
assure the Emperor of Austria in the most emphatic manner that I do not
intend permitting the Polish insurrection to spread too far, and that
his Galician provinces, at all events, shall not be endangered.--Well,
Duroc, what do you bring?" continued he, when the door opened, and the
grand marshal entered with a letter in his hand.
"Sire, I bring two messages at the same time. In the first place, a new
envoy of the King of Prussia has just arrived; he is the bearer of this
letter which the king, who is now at Graudenz, has addressed to your
majesty."
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, "he is at Graudenz, which is still closer to
the boundary of his states. But I will drive him to the last town on the
frontier. The queen must learn what it is to provoke a war!" He took the
letter, which Duroc handed to him, and opened it hastily.
"Sire," said Duroc, "the bearer of that letter, Major von Rauch, asks
the favor of an audience, in order to lay before your majesty the wishes
and requests of his king, who has orally communicated them to him."
Napoleon turned to Talleyrand. "Receive him first," he said; "then
report to me, and we shall see whether I can grant him an interview.
But, wait a moment! Let us first see what is in the king's letter." He
broke the seal and unfolded the paper. When about to read it, he raised
his eyes toward Duroc.
"Sire, Prince Augustus of Prussia has just arrived as a prisoner of war,
escorted by a detachment of our soldiers. The Grand-duke of Berg sends
him to your majesty as a trophy of your victory. Colonel de Gerard
accompanies him."
"Did the prince behave as a brave soldier?" asked Napoleon.
"Sir, Colonel de Gerard states that even our own men admire his heroism.
The prince had separated himself with a battalion of grenadiers from the
corps of the Prince von Hohenlohe, and was marching along the Uker. Our
dragoons were pursuing him, but he repulsed them repeatedly, and would
have succeeded in escaping, with his soldiers, if the impassable
character of the ground had not detained him. He got into a marshy
country, intersected by many small canals, which greatly impeded him.
The horses sank into the mud, and their riders had to alight and lead
them. The prince also was compelled to wade through on foot. He was
leading his charger by the bridle, and just as he felt firm ground under
him, and was about mounting, the horse broke from him and plunged into
the Uker to save its own life. Our dragoons succeeded then in overtaking
and capturing the prince; and the Prussians, seeing that their leader
was taken, also surrendered. The grand-duke reports this affair at
length to your majesty, because he knows that you honor bravery in an
enemy, and because this living trophy would no doubt assume a higher
value in your eyes."
"Where is the prince?" asked Napoleon, quickly.
"Sire, he is in the anteroom, and awaits whatever disposition your
majesty may make of him. Sire, he humbly requests your majesty to permit
him to repair to his parents, to recover from his wounds."
"I will see him. Admit him at once."
"Sire, would not your majesty graciously permit him to arrange his
toilet a little?" asked Duroc. "The prince is not dressed sufficiently
well to appear before your majesty."
"No matter," said Napoleon. "Bring him in immediately." He waved his
hand to Duroc, and then looked again at the letter which he still held
in his hand.
Talleyrand, who was standing near him, fixed his subtle eyes on the
emperor's face. He saw that it brightened up with proud satisfaction,
and that gradually a cold, disdainful smile played on his lips.
"I shall be able to impose very rigorous conditions upon the new
Prussian envoys," said Talleyrand to himself; "the king seems to submit
very humbly, for the pride of a _triumphator_ is beaming on the
emperor's forehead."
Just then Napoleon threw the letter impetuously on the table. "Read it,
Talleyrand," he said, carelessly. "It is always instructive to see how
small these men are in adversity, and how overbearing in prosperity. And
such men desire to be sovereign princes, and wear a crown!"
Talleyrand was extending his hand toward the letter when the door
opened, and the grand marshal entered.
"Sire," he exclaimed, "Prince Augustus of Prussia."
"Let him come in," said Napoleon, sitting down slowly and carelessly in
the easy-chair, covered with purple velvet, which, was standing in the
middle of the room. He beckoned Talleyrand to come to him.
At this moment there appeared on the threshold the tall, slender form of
Prince Augustus of Prussia. Duroc was right; the prince was not in very
courtly trim to appear before the emperor. His uniform was torn and
bespattered; he had but one boot, and that covered with mire; the other
had stuck in the marshy ground near Schonermark, and he had replaced it
by a heavy wooden shoe, such as those worn by German peasants; his right
arm was in a linen bandage, flecked with blood, and an oblique wound,
covered with a broad black plaster, was on his forehead. Such was the
miserable condition in which the nephew of Frederick the Great appeared
in the brilliant halls of the royal palace of Prussia before the
conqueror of his country and of his house, who received him, seated, and
scarcely nodded in return to the stiff military salutation of the
prince. Napoleon looked sternly at the prisoner, and his lips betrayed
the anger seething in his breast. The prince, however, apparently did
not notice this, nor feel uneasy and irritated at the singular situation
in which he found himself; his eyes met those of the emperor calmly and
fearlessly; he did not bow his head, but carried it erect; not a trace
of fear or sorrow was to be seen in his youthful countenance; a faint
smile indeed was playing on his red, full lips when he glanced over the
room, and again at Napoleon, behind whom Talleyrand and Duroc were
standing in a most respectful attitude.
"You are a brother of Prince Louis Ferdinand, who was killed at
Saalfeld?" asked the conqueror, in a harsh voice.
"Yes, sire, I am a son of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia," was the grave
reply.
"A nephew of Frederick II.," exclaimed Napoleon. "A nephew of the heroic
king who loved France so well, that his heart and opinions were those of
a Frenchman."
"Sire," said the prince, calmly, "history teaches, however, that the
great king was not always the friend of that country, and that his love
for it did not prevent him from waging war against it. His enmity
against France gained him no less glory than his friendships for its
poets and _savants_.
"Ah, you refer to Rossbach," said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. "We
have expunged that name with the names of Jena and Auerstadt, and the
monument that once stood on the battle-field of Rossbach is now on the
way to Paris--a trophy of our victorious army."[24]
[Footnote 24: On the day after the battle of Jena, the emperor said to
General Savary, while riding across the battle-field of Rossbach,
between Halle and Merseburg: "Gallop to the left in this direction;
about half a mile from here you will find the column erected by the
Prussians in memory of that battle." Savary advanced in the direction
indicated, and found the small column in the middle of a corn-field.
Waving his handkerchief, General Savary made a sign that he had
succeeded in discovering the monument, and Napoleon galloped with his
suite across the plain to contemplate it. The storms of half a century
had beaten upon it, and it was difficult to decipher the numerous
inscriptions with which it was covered. The division of General Suchet
just passing the spot, the emperor ordered them to have the monument
removed and sent to Paris. The pieces were put into a caisson, and the
orders executed.--"Mémoirs du Duc de Rovigo," vol. ii., p. 293.]
The prince bent his head a little. "It is true," he said, "the goddess
of victory is very fickle. The future therefore consoles those who have
succumbed in the present."
The emperor cast an angry glance on the prince, who met it with a bold,
unflinching air.
"I see you are, both by birth and sentiment, a brother of Prince Louis
Ferdinand," said Napoleon. "Like him, you belonged to the hot-headed
young men who would have war at any price. Hard blows were required to
moderate your war-fever. I hope you are cured of it now. Your brother
has expiated his mad arrogance on the battle-field of Saalfeld. It is
your fate to return as a prisoner of war in the most pitiful plight to
the capital of Prussia, which you left a few weeks since with such
foolish hopes of victory. You ought to have listened in time to reason,
and not to the siren voice of the queen, who, in a manner so disastrous
to Prussia, inveigled all the young men to plunge into the Charybdis of
war, and--"
"Sire," said the prince, interrupting him in an almost threatening
voice--"sire, no reflections on the queen, if you please! Having
conquered us, you are at liberty to humiliate and abuse the vanquished,
if your majesty derive pleasure from such a triumph, but the noble and
unhappy queen should not be dragged into a quarrel of men. We do not
claim the excuse of having been inveigled by her, and her exalted virtue
does not deserve that charge."
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, scornfully, "like all young men, you seem to
belong to the enthusiastic admirers of the queen."
"Sire, that proves that the young men of Prussia are still imbued with
respect for virtue. It is true we all adore the queen as our tutelary
saint; she is the radiant pattern of our mothers, our wives, and
daughters; she is the ideal of all--and those who have once been so
happy as to have seen and spoken with her, bow to her in love and
admiration."
"Had all of you bowed less to her, Prussia would not now lie humiliated
in the dust," said the emperor, harshly. "Prussia and France are
destined by Nature to be friends, and I, who never have sought war, but
always regarded it only as a deplorable necessity, was greatly inclined
to offer my hand to Prussia in peace and friendship. But your queen and
your officers of the guard were bent on having war, and believed they
would win laurels by waging it. Now you have it with all its terrors.
What has it brought upon you? You have lost a brother by it, and you
yourself had to lay down your arms at Prenzlau."
"Sire," said the prince, in generous pride, "I request your majesty not
to confound me with those who concluded the capitulation of Prenzlau. I
did not capitulate; I was taken prisoner, sword in hand, but I did not
surrender it voluntarily."
"Young man," said Napoleon, in grave, cold calmness, "beware of being
plunged into deeper distress by your haughty spirit. The Prussian
princes are not now in a position to utter high-sounding words. Your
king is fully aware of this. Listen attentively to what I tell you: he
has begged me for peace in the most submissive manner; he is imploring
me to grant him my friendship, and calls himself happy because I am
dwelling in his palaces."
"Sire, that is impossible," exclaimed the prince, carried away by his
impulsive temper. Napoleon shrugged his shoulders, and then turned his
head a little aside toward his minister. "M. Talleyrand, please read to
us the letter," he said; "I merely glanced over it.--Owing to the
portentous events of the last days, you are, prince, without direct news
from the king. You may, then, derive from this letter some information
concerning his situation and sentiments. Read, M. Minister! And you,
prince, take a seat."
He pointed to one of the chairs standing near the door. Prince Augustus,
however, did not accept this gracious invitation. He bowed, and said,
smiling, "Your majesty will permit me to stand, for my costume is hardly
in harmony with gilt chairs, and I believe it behooves a poor vagabond
like myself to stand humbly at the door. Moreover, Prussian etiquette
requires us to stand in listening to the words of our sovereign."
"Read, Talleyrand," said the emperor, and leaning back carelessly, he
tried to discover in the prince's face the impression which the king's
letter would make upon him. Talleyrand read as follows:
"_Monsieur mon Frère_: When I begged your imperial majesty to grant me
peace, I consulted my reason, but I have now consulted my heart. In
spite of the terrible sacrifices which you have imposed on me, sire, I
desire most anxiously that the treaty, which has already been secured by
the approval of the main points, will entitle me soon to resume my
amicable relations with your imperial majesty, which the war interrupted
for a moment. It is an agreeable duty for me, _monsieur mon frère_, to
manifest, by a proof of confidence, my sincere desire to cultivate your
friendship; and I believe I do this by stopping the further advance of
the Russian troops, without waiting for the definitive conclusion of
peace.
"I was anxious that your majesty should be received and treated at my
palaces in a manner agreeable to you. I have zealously taken such steps
as were necessary for that purpose, and, according to my power, in the
situation in which I am now, I hope my endeavors have been successful.
In return, your majesty will permit me to recommend my capital and the
province of Brandenburg to your generosity. This province, so little
favored by Nature, is, as it were, a creation of my immortal ancestor. I
hope, sire, you will regard it as a monument he erected to himself; and
the numerous points in which your majesty resembles that great man, I
trust, will be an additional inducement for you to order his work to be
treated in a magnanimous manner.
"Besides, I should like to request your majesty kindly to exempt the
district of Halberstadt and the duchy of Magdeburg from the cruel losses
you are imposing on me. Such an order I should regard as a precious
guaranty of your personal feelings toward me, and you may depend upon
it, sire, I should zealously strive to reciprocate these feelings in the
most cordial manner. I pray God to take you in his Holy keeping, and
remain, _monsieur mon frère_,
"Your majesty's obedient servant,
"FREDERICK WILLIAM."
While the letter was being read, Napoleon did not avert his eyes for a
single moment from the countenance of the prince. He saw that he blushed
with indignation at first, and that gradually a profound grief
overshadowed his noble features.
"Well, was I not right?" asked Napoleon, when Talleyrand had concluded.
"Does not your king submit to all my conditions? Does he not bid me
welcome to his palaces?"
"Sire," said the prince, mournfully, "it does not behoove me to censure
the words of my king. When he has spoken, I must be silent. I only dare
to observe that your majesty may see from this letter that the queen
does not meddle with government affairs. Had she done so, your majesty,
no doubt, would not have received this letter of Count Haugwitz."
"Of Count Haugwitz?" asked Napoleon. "Of the king, you mean?"
"Sire, the king lent to this letter only his name and handwriting; Count
Haugwitz furnished the words and the spirit it breathes."
"Then you believe that the queen does not share the views of her
husband?" asked the emperor, hastily. "You believe she would still
insist on the further continuation of the war if her opinion were
consulted?"
"Sire, I only take the liberty to state that she would not have written
such a letter."
"I know it very well!" exclaimed Napoleon. "Your queen hates me; she
would die rather than beg my friendship; she would bury herself under
the ruins of her throne rather than put an end to this war and call me
her brother. But I will bend that haughty soul--I will crush her heart,
and make her repent of what she is doing. I will--but," he suddenly
interrupted himself, "what is the matter with you! You turn pale! You
are tottering, prince!"
The emperor arose and advanced a few steps; but the prince motioned him
back. "It is nothing," he said faintly, "only a momentary weakness--that
is all. I have not taken rest for several days and nights, and loss of
blood has exhausted my strength. Besides--why should I shrink from
confessing it--I am hungry, sire; I have eaten nothing for the last
twenty-four hours."
"Poor young man," said Napoleon, compassionately, as he approached the
prince, "I deplore your misfortunes. Personally you have not deserved
them, for I know you have fought bravely, and are worthy of a better
fate than that of a prisoner of war; but will you give me your word of
honor that you will not attempt to escape or participate again in this
war against me?"
"Sire," said the prince, pointing at his wounded right arm, "sire, I
believe I must give you my word of honor. I am your prisoner, and shall
not attempt to escape."
"Then go to your parents. I permit you to remain at the house of Prince
Ferdinand until you have recovered from your wounds. I will not deprive
your mother any longer of the pleasure of embracing her brave son. Go,
then, to her!" The prince bowed and was about to withdraw.
"Well, prince, have you not a word of thanks for me?" asked Napoleon,
kindly.
The prince smiled mournfully. "Sire," he said, bowing deeply, "sire, I
thank you for treating me so leniently."