The Elector of Hesse, also, wished to treat; but the Emperor was so
much offended with that Prince, that he would not receive his envoy.
“As to him,” said he, “his reign is ended.”
The gates of Magdeburgh were opened to Marshal Ney. Along with the
keys, there was brought to the Marshal a little box, containing some
valuables belonging, as it was said, to the Elector. They were found
in the fortress.
Colbert, Custrin, and Stettin, were capitulating. The Grand Duke had
detached the light cavalry from Prentzlow, and they unexpectedly
appeared before the garrison. Evening was advancing. General Lasalle
announced that troops were following him. He summoned, threatened, and
intimidated the Governor, and induced him to come to overtures; but
General Belliard arrived, broke off the negotiation, and declared,
that if the fortress were not surrendered in the space of an hour, he
would overwhelm it with cannon-balls. The Prussians took the alarm:
they imagined that the army, the park, all was ready to destroy
them, and they surrendered to our hussars. Custrin was managed still
better. Our troops made a movement to cross the Oder. In course of
their march they fell in with some hundreds of Prussian troops, whom
they dispersed. The garrison fired upon them, and balls were flying
among our ranks. General Gudin intimated, that if the useless firing
were not discontinued the garrison should be immediately blown up.
The governor, becoming alarmed, proposed arrangements; but they were
rejected: he was told that none could be made. He persisted; but
the General continued his march, and there was no one to receive
his propositions. A despatch was sent off to General Petit, who was
a considerable distance off. The flag of truce still persisted in
coming to arrangements. “What arrangement would you have me listen
to?” said the General, gravely. “My instructions are positive. If the
garrison be not surrendered in two hours, I am ordered to destroy
it. We are preparing our batteries; forty mortars or howitzers will
immediately vomit a deluge of fire on your ramparts. There is the
colonel of the artillery;” (it happened, however, to be the colonel
of the eighty-fifth regiment of the line who at that moment came
forward;) “you shall see whether I am exaggerating. Colonel, are
your guns mounted, are your preparations completed?”—“All is ready,
General; I only await your orders.”—“But stay for one moment, Sir; we
will offer terms of peace. You see,” said he to the Prussian officer,
“your town is about to be destroyed. You may as well avert misfortunes
which cannot change the state of affairs. Whether we be defeated
or victorious, we will nevertheless make the most of our present
advantages. A capitulation or a siege, we care not which. Choose,
but choose quickly; and observe, that I will treat with none but the
Governor.” The latter soon appeared upon the Oder.
General Gauthier went to receive the Governor, and conducted him to a
neighbouring house. General Petit joined them, and the capitulation
was signed. Four thousand Prussians, with stores of provisions and
ammunition, surrendered to a regiment of infantry who had not even
summoned them, and who could not go forward to attack them. These
men were justifiable in asking us to cross the Rhine: they found us
dangerous neighbours.
Napoleon sent Duroc to the King of Prussia; but nobody believed there
would be peace.
As Caulincourt and I were walking about in the court-yard of the
Castle, a tall young man, with fair hair, came up to us and saluted
us. This was Prince Paul of Wurtemberg. He had just quitted the
Prussian army, in which he had served contrary to the wish of his
father, with whom, as well as with the Emperor, he was much out of
favour. “What is your Highness's errand here?” enquired Caulincourt.
The Prince replied, that he wished to be restored to the good graces
of the Emperor, and he requested the General to announce him. The
Duke de Vicenza agreed to do so; but Napoleon would not receive the
Prince. He ordered him to be arrested, and escorted by an officer
of gendarmerie to the States of the King his father, where he was
detained for several years. Caulincourt exerted every effort to soften
the rigours of his captivity.
Our head-quarters were transferred to Posen. The spirit of
insurrection which had manifested itself on the first appearance
of our troops, burst forth with new violence. Kalisch had disarmed
the Prussian garrison, and the example was followed in many other
fortresses. Nothing was heard but imprecations upon the authors
of the division. Villages, towns, and even the city of Warsaw,
though occupied by the Russians, sent deputations, and demanded the
proclamation of the independence of Poland. “I would willingly
consent to it,” said Napoleon; “but, if the match were once kindled,
who knows where the conflagration might end? My first duty is to
attend to the interests of France: I must not sacrifice her for
Poland. We must leave the fate of the latter to time, the sovereign
who rules all; he alone can shew us what we ought to do.”
Duroc rejoined us at Posen. We set out for Warsaw. On the way the
Grand Marshal's carriage was overturned, and his clavicle was broken
by the fall. Napoleon was very much concerned for the accident: Duroc
was a man whose services were almost indispensable to the Emperor. He
always enjoyed the highest favour and the greatest confidence, which
he in every respect deserved. Few men were so distinguished for tact,
spirit of business, and skill, as Duroc; and at the same time few were
so remarkable for modesty. His devotion to the Emperor was without
bounds. He had a good heart, and he was an honest man: his only fault
was his fear of displeasing, and his excessive timidity.
At length we entered the Polish capital; the King of Naples had
preceded us, and had driven the Russians from the city. Napoleon was
received with enthusiasm. The Poles thought the moment of their
resuscitation had arrived, and that their wishes were fulfilled. It
would be difficult to describe the joy they evinced, and the respect
with which they treated us. The French troops, however, were not quite
so well pleased; they manifested the greatest repugnance to crossing
the Vistula. The idea of want and bad weather inspired them with the
greatest aversion to Poland: they were inexhaustible in their jokes
and epigrams on the country. They nevertheless beat the Russians in
the marshes of Nasielsk, at Golymin, at Pultusk, and subsequently at
Eylau.
At a review, during which the Poles were pressing upon our troops, a
soldier, in a loud tone of voice, vented imprecations on the country
and the bad weather. A young female who was standing by said:—“You
are very ungrateful to dislike our country; for we like you very
much.”—“You are very kind,” replied the soldier; “but if you wish
me to believe you, you must give a good dinner to me and my comrade
here.” The friends of the young woman took the two soldiers home and
regaled them.
The French soldiers were particularly fond of passing their jokes at
the theatre. One evening, when the curtain was very late of rising,
a grenadier, who was among the spectators, became impatient at the
delay. “Begin!” he called out, from the further end of the pit; “begin
directly, or I will not cross the Vistula.”
M. de Talleyrand, who was driving in his carriage at a short distance
from Warsaw, stuck in the mud, and twelve hours elapsed before he
could be extricated. The soldiers who were much out of humour,
enquired who he was. The minister for foreign affairs replied an
individual of his suite. “Why does he come to a country like this with
his diplomacy?” said one of the soldiers.
The French troops used to say that the four following words
constituted the whole language of the Poles:—_Kleba? niema; vota?
sara_: (some bread? there is none; some water? we will go and fetch
it.) This was all that was to be heard in Poland.
Napoleon one day passed by a column of infantry in the neighbourhood
of Nasielsk, where the troops were suffering the greatest privations,
on account of the mud, which prevented the arrival of provisions.
“Papa, kleba?” exclaimed a soldier. “Niema,” replied the Emperor. The
whole column burst into a fit of laughter: they asked for nothing more.
I relate these anecdotes, because they show the kind of spirit which
animated our troops. These brave veterans deserved more gratitude
than they obtained.
Napoleon was amused with these jokes, and he smiled whenever allusion
was made to the reluctance of the army to cross the Vistula. Some
Generals augured unfavourably of the disposition of the troops, and
expressed their regret to find that disgust had succeeded enthusiasm.
“Have you spoken to them of the enemy?” said the Emperor; “are they
without enthusiasm when they face him?” Those men, said he to me
afterwards, know not how to appreciate my troops. They do not know
that they burn with ardour whenever the Russians and victory are
spoken of: I will rouse them. He called one of his secretaries, and
dictated to him the following proclamation.
“Soldiers!
“This day twelvemonth, at this very hour, you were on the
memorable field of Austerlitz: the Russian battalions were
dismayed, and fled in disorder, or were surrounded and compelled
to lay down their arms to the conquerors. On the following day
they circulated reports of peace; but these were false. No sooner
had they, through generosity that was perhaps reprehensible,
escaped the disasters of the third coalition, than they plotted
a fourth. But the ally, on whose tactics they founded their
principal hope, is no longer what he was: his citadels, his
capitals, his magazines, his arsenals, 280 standards, 700 pieces
of cannon, five great garrisons, are in our power. The Oder,
the Warta, the deserts of Poland, the severity of the weather,
have not for a moment impeded your advance: you have braved
every danger, and surmounted every obstacle; your enemies every
where fled at your approach. In vain did the Russians attempt
to defend the capital of ancient and illustrious Poland. The
French eagle hovers over the Vistula. At your approach the brave
and unfortunate Poles fancied they again beheld the legions of
Sobieski returning from their memorable expedition.
“Soldiers! we will not lay down our arms until a general peace
shall have established and secured the power of our allies, and
restored to France her freedom of trade and the possession of her
colonies. On the banks of the Elbe and the Oder we have conquered
Pondicherry, our establishments in India, the Cape of Good Hope,
and the Spanish Colonies. What should give the Russians the right
of deciding the fate of Europe? What should give them the right
of defeating our just designs? Are not they, as well as we, the
men who fought at Austerlitz?”
The troops were assembled in the square of Saxony. It was the
anniversary of the coronation, and the Russians occupied the suburb
of Prague. These circumstances, these recollections, this perspective
of glory, were hailed by loud acclamations. Our troops were inspired
by the prospect of victory, and all their prejudices vanished. The
enemy covered the left bank of the river. All the vessels had been
towed away; but one of our quarter-masters, in defiance of the Cossack
lances, succeeded in getting possession of a boat. This was enough:
the enemy raised his camp during the night, and we passed without any
impediment. The Bug presented greater difficulties; its left bank is
flat and marshy, and well calculated for defence; but Benigsen knew
not how to avail himself of his advantages. We threatened his flanks,
and we succeeded in floating the boats that had been sunk. The enemy
hesitated, and the river was crossed. The Russians returned to the
charge: they endeavoured to carry the head of the bridge, which we
had raised at Okuniew; but all had been foreseen; Davoust had adopted
every necessary precaution, and the enemy was routed, beaten, and
compelled to repass the Wkra.