by Emil Ludwig
In private, however, with mingled feelings of anger and contempt, he says hard things about Prussia. He cannot believe that country to be so mad as it seems. " Its cabinet is despicable ; its sovereign a weakling; its court ruled by young officers who will risk anything."
Outbreak of War
A fortnight before the outbreak of war, he still finds it impossible to believe in its coming.
He is mistaken. The men of noble birth who officer the Prussian army, the men who, under Frederick the Great, defeated France, and were subsequently defeated by France, want to rehabilitate themselves. The middle classes are inspired with ardent nationalist sentiments. The Prussians are ready to " risk anything " ; their eyes are fixed on a protectress in whom they trust. The queen of Prussia is a passionate advocate of war, for the tsar is now allied with Prussia, and during his stay in Berlin she has recognised in him the manliness that is lacking in her husband. After Austerlitz, Alexander had promptly withdrawn into his own realm, to await a more favourable opportunity. Now the opportunity had come.
We learn from Talleyrand that Napoleon was full of secret disquietude at having to draw the sword once more. He had been dazzled by the feats of the great Frederick's soldiers. Never before had he fought against an army famous in story. " I fancy we shall find them tougher metal than the Austrians." All the more reason for getting quickly across the Rhine ! A week after the beginning of the advance, he gains his first victory. At Saalfeld, the best of the Prussians fell, Prince Louis Ferdinand, the first and finest blossom shattered in the first storm.
Confusion prevails among the Prussians, and the king contributes to its spread. General Scharnhorst had advised him to attack two weeks earlier, but the irresolute ruler had waited for the French offensive. The duke of Brunswick is commander-in-chief; but instead of leaving the management of the campaign to this officer, at the last moment the king comes to the fighting front. " We don't know whether the headquarters should be called royal or ducal." The duke obeys the king when he ought to command. Questions of precedence necessitate the division of the forces into three army corps, for Prince Hohenlohe, who is a reigning prince, cannot possibly fight under a duke. Once
Last Offers of Friendship
more the enemy holds out the hand of friendship. Two days before the main battle, and while confident of victory, Napoleon writes :
" I do not wish to derive any advantage from the folly of your advisers, whose blunders in statesmanship amaze Europe. . . . Well, we are at war. . . . But why should we lead our subjects to slaughter one another ? I care nothing for a victory that is bought with the lives of many of my children. If I were at the beginning of my career, and had reason to dread misadventure in battle, I should have no right to use such language. But, Sire, you will be defeated. You will sacrifice the quiet of your days and the lives of your subjects without the smallest justification. ... I have nothing to gain from Your Majesty; I do not want and never have wanted anything from you. This war is unwise ! I know that my letter may wound your royal sensibilities, but the circumstances make bluntness essential. I am telling you what I really think. . . . Restore .peace to yourself and your territories. Even if I could never be your ally, you will always find in me a man, . . . whose greatest wish it is never to shed blood by making war with princes who are not the adversaries of his industry, his commerce, and his policy."
Louise, who has followed her husband to the front, is a woman with more peaceful instincts than is pleasing to the ambition of the generals on the headquarters staff. When the letter is read, however, she agrees with their scornful view that Napoleon writes as he does because he is afraid of a catastrophe to himself. Is she, then, unable to realise that destiny has placed her among these men to-day, that she may influence her weak-willed husband in the direction of a humane settlement of the dispute ? She cannot see it! Napoleon is nothing but " an infernal monster risen out of the mire," and to-morrow he must fall!
" My affairs march very well," writes this monster, meanwhile, to his wife. "Everything is going just as I should like.
Battle of Jena
The king and the queen are in Erfurt. If they want to see a battle, they will have this gruesome delight. I feel splendid. Although I am travelling from eighty to a hundred miles a day, I have put on weight. I go to bed at eight in the evening, get up at midnight, and remember when I do so that you have not yet retired to rest." The last night before the battle he refuses to go to bed. At three in the morning, one of his officers urges him to take a nap, but he exclaims : " Impossible ! I have my plans here " (he touches his forehead), " but nothing yet in my maps ! " Then he quickly explains the whole plan. " Do you understand ? ... To horse with you and find me a place from which I can get a commanding view of the battlefield. I shall be there at six." Then he throws himself on the camp-bed, and instantly falls asleep.
In the course of that night, the Prussian headquarters staff is informed by its scouts that remarkable movements are going on among the French troops. Oh, well, to-morrow will be time enough to discuss the matter! But before the day dawns, the Emperor has ridden along the front, has fired his guard with enthusiasm, has recalled the day of Austerlitz.
He defeats the Prussians near Jena, while simultaneously Davoust is routing a superior force of the enemy at Auerstadt.
When the valiant duke of Brunswick is fatally wounded, no one ventures to take over the command. They all lose their heads, and what is left of the army of the great Frederick flees in disorder through Saxony eastward.
" Chere amie, I did some fine manoeuvring against the Prussians, and won a great victory yesterday. Twenty thousand prisoners, and we took about a hundred cannon and colours. . . . Have been camping here for a couple of days. I'm feeling splendid. Farewell. Take good care of yourself, and love me."
In Weimar, he meets the reigning duchess. Charles Augustus, the duke, has been in a warlike frame of mind for the last twenty years. He is Prussophil, and, in defiance of advice, has
Two German Women
joined issue with the Emperor. Now, as Prussian general, he is in Ml flight after the disaster at Jena. No one knows his whereabouts. The court has also fled from Weimar. Only the duchess and her minister, Goethe, remain behind. When the Emperor sees the lady for the first time, he says : "I am sorry for you! How could the duke. . . ! " But to his amazement (for he is always against women's rule—in especial, when the woman happens to be a German) the duchess answers him with so much clarity, simplicity, and dignity, explains the duke's friendship with Prussia in so steadfast a manner, that he is shaken, behaves courteously, returns in the evening in order to have a long talk with her, and, after having vowed the annihilation of her dynasty, promises her that nothing shall be done to injure the duchy. Why ?
Because this woman has never interfered in politics, has not now affected a knowledge she does not possess, but in simple camaraderie has spoken on behalf of her absent husband, and with princely demeanour has pleaded for her country. She has made use neither of cajolery nor anger, but has kept the golden mean between pride and deference becoming to a conquered monarch. Years afterwards, the Emperor remembered this woman who by her noble bearing had saved her country and her dynasty.
In Berlin, he meets another woman. Count Hatzfeld, who has been negotiating with the conqueror on behalf of Berlin, writes indiscreetly to one of the discredited generals, and gives him details concerning the strength of the French troops. His letter is intercepted. The Emperor, in a rage, declares he is to be shot as a spy. Berthier is depressed by the command; Rapp endeavours to soften Napoleon. Countess Hatzfeld is brought to see him; she falls at his feet. He invites her to Potsdam : " When I showed her the count's letter she answered me guilelessly, with a sob, and with deep emotion : ' Yes, that is certainly his handwriting.' As she read the document the tone of her voice moved me to my innermost being. I pitied her. You see," he
Frederick's Sword
Concludes his report to Josephine, " I love good, simple, and gentle wom
en."
Love ? There stands the man of might; the countess is naught to him as far as her womanhood goes; hardly has he noticed her figure or her dress. But these natural passions, womanly pleadings, tears, and silences, move him deeply. He throws the letter into the fire : " The proof I had has been burned. Your husband is safe."
Thus does Napoleon the Conqueror deal with two German women whose husbands have fought against him. He deals leniently with them because their conduct appeals to his heart.
He dislikes Queen Louise. A politician, that woman, who has driven her country and her consort into a disastrous enterprise, who has egged this quiet-loving man into war when he could have had peace with honour. Napoleon execrates such a woman. Since she seizes every opportunity to spit fire at him, he determines to strip her of all her womanly dignity. He jeers at her in official bulletins : " She is a woman with beautiful features but little brain. . . . She must be terribly tortured by pangs of conscience for all the suffering she has brought upon her country. Her husband is a man of honour who desired happiness and peace for his people."
He has made a triumphal entry into Berlin. His suite is brilliantly dressed, but he is as simply clad as ever, and his hat is adorned with a cockade worth about a penny. Nothing interests him so keenly as Sans Souci. He holds the sword of the great Frederick in his hands, and takes it away as a trophy more priceless than any other he could ever find in his whole life. He would not exchange it for the throne of Prussia. But he heartily despises Frederick's descendants, and publicly attacks the queen:
" In the queen's rooms was found the tsar's picture, which he himself had given her. Also there was her correspondence with the king. . . . These documents go to prove how unhappy those princes can be who permit their wives to interfere in affairs of
The Continental System
State. Notes and State papers reeked of musk, and lay beneath ribbons and laces and other fal-lals of the toilet."
An unworthy tone ! He seems to have forgotten the patriotic impulse of the queen. If, however, we compare these taunts with what the best and greatest of contemporary Prussian statesmen, the non-Prussian Baron vom Stein, wrote about Queen Louise, we can understand the Emperor's humour, though hardly excuse it.
Serious considerations restrain him from destroying the house of Hohenzollern, though he had already drafted a decree to dethrone the king. Napoleon has to bear the tsar 'in mind. In Berlin he thinks in terms of Europe as a whole: " On the Elbe and on the Oder we have won our India, our Spanish colonies, and our Cape of Good Hope." The grandiose words as yet only announce the start of the voyage; but with mighty strokes of the oar he is now to round the cape of his hopes. In the castle at Charlottenburg he dictates the greatest, most unbloody, and most dangerous of all his declarations of war : Charlemagne closes all the harbours of Europe against English ships. If the island cannot be reached by his sword ? Well, henceforward, Europe shall be placed out of her reach! All merchandise, parcels, postal communications, etc., from and to England and her colonies are to be held up; every Englishman at large on the Continent is now a prisoner of war.
How is the carrying-out of the scheme to be supervised ? Hitherto, action has always followed close upon the heels of thought. Now, he has to make treaties with various States, and, first of all, with Russia and Austria. Austria has fragments of the sometime realm of Poland within her frontiers; but Russia wants them for herself; Poland, tossed between the two, pays allegiance to neither. As to a god, the Poles turn to the Emperor. He, the champion of the freedom of the peoples, must come to their aid and free them. What is to be done ? How does Napoleon solve the Polish problem ?
Visions in Sans Souci
" Shall I set up the throne of Poland anew, and thus restore a great nation to life ? God alone, who has the fashioning of all things in his hands, can solve this riddle." Words of Delphic cunning, which he sends forth throughout Poland. God alone sees the smile with which he signs the proclamation ! In addition he takes three measures. He demands that the Poles shall provide troops, for " not until you have an army of forty thousand men will you be worthy of the name of Nation." Next he proposes to the Austrians an exchange of Galicia for Prussian Silesia. But the real key to the Polish problem he fishes out of the Bosphorus, for he tells the sultan to drive the Russians out of Moldavia, and to meet him, the Emperor, on the Dniester; thereby he hopes to bind, not only Russia, but also the trembling Austria, to the lower Danube.
There he sits in Sans Souci, the ancient candelabra in Frederick's study scintillate over his head, Voltaire's picture smiles sideways, through the wraith, at his great fellow-countryman. He sits alone at his game of chess, calculates the moves of his unseen opponent, his glance takes in wider and wider circles; suddenly the traits of his new ancestor suffer a change, the big blond beard vanishes, the nose is flatter, the eyes lose some of their confident glance, then become bolder again : instead of the great Charles, he is facing the great Alexander. Yes, now, indeed, he will conquer England in India ! World dominion hovers before his eyes.
A new opponent leaps on to the board. Couriers bring the news of a revolt in Spain. He pales. The whole game is imperilled. Once more Napoleon sees clearly that he who would vanquish England must gain Russia's friendship. But in order to conquer Russia or to win her over to his side, he needs a fulcrum. He has one ready to hand: Poland in revolt. Napoleon journeys to Warsaw.
While in imagination he had, during these weeks, been weighing the fate of continents, his heart had felt lonely. Yet he did not trouble himself about women. Only to his wife did he write gallant things : " I love you, and long for you. . . . These
A Son!
Polish women [in PosenJ are all Frenchwomen in their hearts. But for me there is only one woman. Do you know who she is ? I would tell you what she is like, only I should have to flatter her too much, so that you could recognise yourself in the description. Seriously, my heart can say naught but good of her. Oh, these long nights, all alone ! "
Josephine, with the keenness of a foxhound, senses a rival under these cajoleries. But she has no reason, as yet, to be jealous, or to make so long a journey. He answers her that " the agitation of your letter tells me that you beautiful women know of no limits to your powers. What you wish must come to pass. I, on the other hand, recognise that I am the most enslaved of men. My master has no mercy on me, for my master is the nature of things."
Hardly has he finished touching upon these airy trifles in weighty words, when a courier brings him tidings of the great consequences of a trifling affair: the beauty to whom Caroline had introduced him in the previous winter, and who was expecting a child before he went away, has been confined. At last! It is then proved that he does not lack the power which Dame Nature grants to other men! A great gift from above. A boy. He turns to his intimate and exclaims with the ingenuous delight of a youth : " Duroc ! I've got a son ! "
XIV
The brilliantly lighted ballroom forms a background where Poland displays her greatest beauty and her most precious jewels. This is the evening of evenings. In the old palace of Poland's kings at Warsaw, the Emperor of the French is to be shown the calibre of the nation that has been suffering so long. Will he admire the national dance, its music and its figures ? Will the eyes of the ladies ravish him, those eyes which are pools of Slavic melancholy ? Will the flattery of the speeches
Bonaparte in 1802, as First Consul. Engraving by Alexandre Tardieu. After a drawing by Jean Baptiste Isabey.
The Polish Countess
or the idolising comparisons appearing in the newspapers make his heart as wax ? Such, according to the sanguine, are the questions upon which hang the fate of the nation. The procession has passed by ; he has spoken to many in cheerful vein ; now he is standing in a recess, dividing his attention between his interlocutor and the dancers. He is thinking of Paris, where, for seven years, he has never failed to be in January.
Suddenly his gaze is focused on a special point, and he forgets to carry on the conversat
ion. A hundred watchful eyes follow the glance of the huntsman. Who is the quarry ? A little later he approaches a group, asks for the names of those composing it, and smilingly, with a courtliness of manner rarely shown by him on public occasions, he draws the lady of his choice out of the circle of her companions. She is a gentle, fair-haired beauty, dainty and small, has blue eyes, appears to be of a yielding disposition, and is eighteen years of age. She is simpler in her dress than any of the others, and her behaviour is correspondingly quiet and without display or the lures of coquetry. The Emperor chooses her as partner in a contra-dance, delights in her grace and her lovely voice, finds her broken French bewitching. While she smiles and is covered with confusion, her name is whispered from room to room throughout the palace : Countess Walewska.
" Who is she ? " asks Napoleon later of his friend Duroc. She is the daughter of an ancient line, the family so impoverished that the lady has been married off to a wealthy old count whose youngest grandchild is ten years older than the new wife.
" I had eyes only for you," he writes to the countess next day. " I admired only you, and longed to be with you alone. Send me an answer quickly, in order that the fire which is consuming me may be appeased. N." But the messenger, Duroc, returns with neither answer nor tidings of any sort. The Emperor is nonplussed. Something quite new. Twelve years ago the brigadier general had had such a rebuff. But Napoleon, never. Have not all women, whether princesses or actresses,