The Polish Campaign
(1806-7)
Having deprived the Elector of Hesse-Cassel, the Duke of Brunswick,
and the Prince of Orange of their possessions; concluded an alliance
with Saxony, whose Elector was raised to the dignity of King and
joined the Rhenish Confederacy; and compelled the Prussian provincial
authorities to swear allegiance preparatory to leaving General Clarke
as Governor-General, Napoleon turned his unwearied attention to Poland.
There he anticipated meeting the slow-moving Russian army before it
reached Germany. The Commander-in-chief of the Czar’s forces was
Marshal Kamenskoi, a man of eighty years of age, who shortly afterwards
became insane, and was succeeded by Bennigsen, on whom the soldiers
placed considerably more reliance.
The partition of Poland by Russia, Austria and Prussia in 1795--a wound
by no means healed--afforded an opportunity, had Napoleon decided to
take advantage of it, for an appeal to the national spirit of the Poles
to assert itself to regain their country’s independence, an aspiration
which is alive to-day. The Emperor sought to temporise, and when an
influential deputation waited upon him to ask his assistance for the
Poles, he evaded the point by a skilful answer which neither said yea
nor nay to their request, but was nicely calculated to secure their
enthusiasm on his behalf. The truth is, that while Napoleon did not
disdain Polish recruits for the French army, he perceived that it
would have been dangerous to further exasperate Russia, Prussia, and
Austria. Indeed, Austria was arming already, Prussia was endeavouring
to recuperate, and Russia was preparing a surprise.
The numerical strength of the various armies was, as far as can be
ascertained, as follows: France, 145,000; Russia, 100,000; Prussia,
15,000. The Emperor’s first headquarters were at Posen, but on Murat
entering Warsaw at the end of November 1806, after some desultory
fighting, he decided to move to that city, where he arrived with his
staff on the 18th December. At Pultusk, Lannes experienced a severe
check at the hands of Bennigsen, whose troops outnumbered the French
by 5000. A violent snow-storm made the work doubly heavy for both
contestants, but the Russians had fewer difficulties to contend with
than the attacking party, which was obliged to wade through slush that
numbed the soldiers to the bone. They quitted themselves well, however,
and forced the enemy to retreat until the cavalry and reserve were
brought into action, when the French were forced to give up the unequal
contest with the loss of 6000 men, one thousand more than that of the
Russians. At Golymin, a somewhat similar disaster occurred to Davout,
Augereau, and Murat, and these two misfortunes largely determined
Napoleon to suspend hostilities for a time. Both armies therefore took
up winter quarters, Napoleon on the forest-clad banks of the Vistula,
the Russians near the Narew.
Bennigsen, now in chief command, knowing the almost desperate
situation of the King of Prussia, who was shut up in Königsberg, upon
which the divisions of Ney and Bernadotte were slowly closing, saw what
he thought was an excellent opportunity to surprise Napoleon. He would
assume the offensive, relieve the important fortress of Graudentz,
then feebly held by a Prussian garrison, and protect Königsberg. But
the Emperor, whilst enjoying the social life of Warsaw, was not to
be caught quite so easily, and was speedily on the march. Through a
despatch from Bernadotte, which was intercepted by a band of Cossacks,
the Russian general got to know of the enemy’s movements, and perforce
had to give up his former plan or run the risk of a disastrous defeat.
Many a game of military hide-and-seek followed, often accompanied by
severe losses. Matters were brought to a crisis on the 7th February
1807, when both armies bivouaced within sight of each other at Eylau,
the French to the number of 50,000 entering the town after an affray
with the Russians, who probably totalled about 75,000. The corps under
Ney, Bernadotte, and Davout, having been ordered to join the main
force, were expected to afford valuable help.
Never was there a more keenly-contested field. It was snowing heavily
when the first shells began to plough the opposing ranks. In a single
charge nearly half the men in Augereau’s corps were annihilated, and
their commander wounded. Davout returned the compliment, and was on
the point of succeeding when the Russians received reinforcements and
compelled him to fall back. Ney, who had duly arrived, and Murat,
were more successful, but at the end of eighteen hours’ fighting it
was difficult to tell who had secured the advantage. Napoleon frankly
confessed that it was quite possible he might have retreated, but
when the next morning dawned, leaden and sullen, it was found that
the Russians had disappeared, leaving him in possession of the field.
On the 14th, Napoleon wrote to the Empress: “The country is covered
with the dead and the wounded. This is not the pleasant part of war,”
while to his brother Joseph, he related some of the hardships of the
campaign. “The officers of the staff,” he says, “have not undressed
for two months, many not for four months. I myself have not taken off
my boots for a fortnight. We are in the midst of snow and mud, without
wine, brandy, or bread. We have nothing but potatoes to eat; we make
long marches and counter-marches--no pleasant experience. We have to
fight with the bayonet under a tremendous fire of grape, the wounded
have then to be carried back 150 miles in open sleighs.”
An incident which occurred at this period exemplifies very clearly how
Napoleon could rebuke an officer and show at the same time that he had
not forfeited his trust in him. It should be added that the Emperor did
not always deal so leniently with a subordinate as he did with this
particular individual.
One evening a bundle of despatches was delivered to Napoleon. “Surely
these despatches have been a long time on their way!” he remarked to
his attendant. “How is this? Tell the orderly officer who brought them
that I wish to speak to him.”
The officer entered, mud-bespattered and obviously ill at ease.
“Sir,” said the Emperor, “at what hour were these despatches placed in
your hands?”
“At eight o’clock in the evening, sire.”
“And how many leagues had you to ride?”
“I do not know precisely, sire.”
“But you ought to know, sir. An orderly officer ought to know _that_. I
know it. You had twenty-seven miles to ride, and you set off at eight
o’clock. Look at your watch, sir. What o’clock is it, now?”
“Half-past twelve, sire. The roads were in a terrible state. In some
places the snow obstructed my passage----”
“Poor excuses, sir--poor excuses. Retire, and await my orders.”
As the door closed behind the unfortunate messenger, whose unhappy
frame of mind it is not difficult to realise, Napoleon remarked, “This
cool, leisurely gentleman wants stimulating. The reprimand I have given
him will make him spur his horse another time. Let me see--my answer
must be delivered in two hours. I have not a moment to lose.”
He replied to the communications and recalled the officer who had
brought the despatches.
“Set off immediately, sir,” said the Emperor; “these despatches must be
delivered with the utmost speed. General Lasalle must receive my orders
by three o’clock. You understand?”
“Sire, by half-past two the general shall have the orders of which I
have the honour to be the bearer.”
“Very well, sir, mount your horse--but stop!” he added, as the officer
was about to make his exit. “Tell General Lasalle,” and a magnetic
smile lit up the Emperor’s face for an instant, “that it will be
agreeable to me that you should be the person selected to announce to
me the success of these movements.”
After the terrible fight at Eylau, which proved that the French arms
were not invincible and added considerably to the prestige of the
Russian army, Napoleon felt compelled to concentrate his forces still
further. Although he was within an easy march of Königsberg, upon
which Bennigsen had retreated, and had promised his soldiers before
the action that “their fatigue will be compensated by a luxurious
and honourable repose” at that city, he determined to try Fortune no
further. He put down the sword of war and took up the pen of peace,
writing a letter to the King of Prussia calculated to woo him from his
allies. After the triumph of Jena Napoleon had asked half of Prussia as
the price of peace, now he was willing to give back all the conquered
territory east of the river Elbe, and at the same time to release
Prussia from any future strife he might have with Russia.
We have already noted that Frederick William III. possessed little
strength of will, of which fact the Czar as well as Napoleon was
fully aware. Alexander determined to make the alliance between Russia
and Prussia still more binding, feeling confident that Eylau was the
beginning of the end so far as the Corsican upstart was concerned. The
diplomacy of Napoleon received a check, and a treaty between Russia
and Prussia was arranged at Bartenstein in April 1807, which, while it
provided for eventualities which might follow the defeat of Napoleon,
had the more immediate effect of strengthening the wavering purpose of
the Prussian monarch.