THE winter wore on. Negotiations had already started with Austria for an offensive and defensive alliance to be imposed on Prussia. In all directions greater exertions than ever were being made to further the arrangements and dispositions for the Emperor’s great undertaking. We were approaching the dénouement of the events for which the projected interview at Dresden was the intended prelude. In the meantime Paris and the Court were busy with parties and entertainments.
Towards the end of winter and in the spring I had two further lengthy conversations with the Emperor, one of which took place very shortly after this interview with Duroc. They turned on political questions. In the first, the Emperor tried once again to persuade me that he no longer contemplated the restoration of Poland, and had no wish whatever to go to war with Russia; in a word, that he only wanted to force England to abandon her groundless pretensions and make peace, and to accomplish this it was essential that Russia should effectively close her ports to English commerce; whereas for a year past she had been admitting English goods under the American flag.
To this I objected that we ourselves had been admitting those same goods under licences—only of course such goods and licences were taxed double-rate.
“Possibly so,” answered the Emperor, laughing. “I cannot go back on that, because of my maritime towns. Alexander has only to do the same himself. I would rather that Russia and its treasury should reap the profit than that it should go to so-called neutrals.”
He then returned to his old idea, that by impounding all neutral goods the Emperor Alexander would be doing immense good, and so on.
“You may be sure,” he said, “that I have no intention of sacrificing such great interests for a speculative re-establishment of Poland.”
“Undoubtedly Your Majesty would not make war on Russia solely for the sake of Poland,” I answered; “but rather that you should have no rival in Europe, and see there none but vassals.”
I added that this occupied him much more than his Continental System, which could have been put rigorously into force from Archangel to Danzig as soon as the Emperor had frankly imposed upon himself those privations and sacrifices which he wished to demand from others. Finally, I urged, he would not have gathered such forces in the North, to the detriment of the Spanish campaign, nor would he have spent so much money in all sorts of preparations, if he had not been resolved to put them to some use, either for a political end or to satisfy his fondest passion.
“What passion is that?” asked the Emperor, laughing.
“War, Sire.”
He tweaked my ear, with weak protests that it was not so. He then gave me free leave to say whatever I desired, and accepted with the utmost good humour everything I said. Whenever I touched a sore spot he pinched my ear again, giving me a gentle tap on the nape of my neck—especially when I seemed to him to be going rather far.
I told him that his desire was, if not for universal monarchy, at least for a supremacy which should be more than primus inter pares, and should place him in the position of demanding from others sacrifices which he would not be called upon to make himself; and this without allowing them the right of complaint or even of comment. This could only appear of momentary advantage to France; it had already resulted, and in time to come would result yet more, in provoking hostile opinion—ill—feeling and jealousy which sooner or later were bound to end tragically for us, as a situation of this kind could not be forced upon the nations in the present century. He laughed heartily at what he called my philanthropy, and at my remarks about primus inter pares. He was in the best of humours, laughing very readily; he took no offence. He had the air of saying, “You’re quite right; you’ve guessed correctly; but don’t say anything about it....”
The harder the Emperor found it to persuade me, the more art and persistence he put forth to attain that end. His calculated wiles, and the language he used, would have made anyone believe that I was one of the powers whom he was so much concerned to win over.
I have often observed in him that care and persistence, and am far from flattering myself that I was the occasion of it. He acted so towards all whom he wished to persuade, and he was always wanting to persuade someone.
I enter into all these details because they delineate his character; that is my sole purpose. I will even add that his persistence arose, I think, from the habit that he had but too firmly contracted, whether by reason of his power or on account of the real superiority of his genius and the ascendancy that it gave him, of either communicating his conviction to others or of imposing it upon them. Certain it is that to the success which he was accustomed to obtain thus must be attributed his predilection for interviews with sovereigns, and his habit of dealing in any particularly delicate and important matters directly with the ministers and ambassadors of foreign powers. When he so wished, there could be a power of persuasion and fascination in his voice, his expression, his very manner, giving him an advantage over his interlocutor as great as the superiority and flexibility of his mind.
Never was there a man more fascinating when he chose to be; to withstand him one had to realize, as I did, the political errors which lay concealed beneath this art. However prepared for him I might be—even when on my guard—he was often for a moment on the point of winning me to his opinion; and I only broke the spell because, like all curt and obstinate people, I remained on my own ground, maintaining only my own ideas and not heeding those of the Emperor. To avoid being carried away by the geniality which he often assumed when wishing to inspire confidence—to withstand the forceful arguments and reasoning of the Emperor, often specious but always clever and full of apt comparisons as useful to illustrate his own ideas as to conceal the end he wished to attain—one had to behave as if one did not understand what he was saying, and to repeat diligently to oneself in advance: “This is just; this is right; this only is in the interest of France, and therefore in the true interests of the Emperor.”
It was necessary to confine one’s attention to the question as it appeared to oneself, and not to stray beyond the circle thus traced; above all not to follow the Emperor in his digressions, for he never failed to shift the centre of argument when he encountered opposition. Woe to him who admitted a single modification, for the adroit interlocutor led from concession to concession to the end he had in view, casting up a previous concession against you if you defended yourself, and assuming that it consequently implied the point you refused to concede. No woman was ever more artful than he in making you want, or agree to, his own desire, when he thought it was to his interest to persuade, or merely wanted to do so. These reflections call to my mind what he once said on a similar occasion, which explains better than any other phrase could have done the price he was ready to pay for success.
“When I need anyone,” he said, “I don’t make too fine a point about it; I would kiss his———.”
Once he had an idea implanted in his head, the Emperor was carried away by his own illusion. He cherished it, caressed it, became obsessed with it; one might say he exuded it from all his pores. By what means, then, did he strive to convey this illusion to others? If he sought to fascinate you, you could be sure he had already fascinated himself. Never have a man’s reason and judgment been more misguided, more led astray, more the victim of his imagination and passion than the reason and judgment of the Emperor on certain questions. He spared neither pain, care nor trouble to arrive at his end, and this applied as much to little things as to great. He was, one might say, totally given over to his object. He always applied all his means, all his faculties, all his attention to the action or discussion of the moment. He put passion into everything. Hence the enormous advantage he had over his adversaries; for few people are absolutely engrossed by the moment’s thought or action.
I hope I may be pardoned these reflections. I return to my conversation with the Emperor.
The Emperor’s endeavours to prove to me that all his wars were for political purposes, that his only aim was peace with England, that all his projects were conformable to this and aimed at that goal, induced me to touch once more on the great political questions relative to the project of war which I attributed to him on behalf of Poland. I said that I understood as well as he did, and that I had written to him to that effect when he might have had Poland’s restoration in mind, that if it was to form a great buffer state in the centre of Europe, Poland was not in herself sufficient; it would be necessary to fashion that power on a proper scale, with boundaries, a political position, and an organization which would ensure general respect. I added that I understood perfectly well the utility of such a power, and that in consequence I considered any means admissible which would lead to that end, if he had had no other wars on his hands. This arrangement, I continued, could not but be agreeable to the ideas of England and Austria, according to my views; the Tsar Alexander, although he could not publicly agree to this project on account of his Polish provinces, was a man who could appreciate the wise political scope of such an arrangement; interest and honour would prevent him from giving up his portion of Poland without a struggle; but this war, fought at some other time, and with the acquiescence of Europe, would soon be over; and if it were waged for that purpose, it must be made clear that such was its purpose, so that Europe would regard it only as a fight for security.
It would be essential to make an authentic and positive declaration of his views and principles, and of the end he had in mind—to make Austria disinterested, moreover, by restoring her outlets to the sea—in short to refashion the States of Europe with reasonable boundaries. I added that it was essential to take a firm and definite attitude with regard to Prussia, and to come to an understanding with the great powers that the buffer state should be ruled by a dynasty neither French, Russian nor Austrian: in fine, that this state should be entirely independent in respect of its organization as well as its dynasty; and it seemed to me that a question of this importance, and an arrangement of this nature, would induce England to make peace more than would the Continental System, as offering a tranquil future to all cabinets, and so setting an example of moderation, even of sacrifice.
This step, I told him, would conciliate general feeling towards him; this great political move ought to be made openly; and if this really was his object, it seemed to me so sweeping, so noble, so well calculated to immortalize his reign, that he ought to proclaim it, announcing his intentions to the world at large, and leaving nothing vague or likely to cast doubts on his good faith in carrying them out. All the mysterious ways of our existing political system, I continued, all the pinpricks that were given, ostensibly to make one’s adversary explain his intentions, but really to force him into a corner and make him the aggressor, would then become out-of-date and useless; that in such an event I should esteem myself happy to be the agent, the verbal go-between for such a project; and I was prepared to be the intermediary at St. Petersburg, however little the cabinet there might relish the message I took them.
I concluded by saying that such a purpose, worthy as it was of the Emperor’s genius, was the only thing which could make the Polish war intelligible to me. Otherwise it seemed quite unreasonable; for a war in Russia, without a previous declaration of the freedom of Poland, without the loyal aid of Austria previously recompensed for the loss of Galicia by the cession of Illyria, without the secret assent of England, would be a very risky enterprise, presenting nothing but difficulties without any real advantage to compensate for them. A hundred Russians slain beyond the Oder did not appear to me sufficient compensation for the death of a single Frenchman slain on the same field of battle.
The Emperor listened to me with attention, but with occasional flashes of impatience. I paused often, hoping that he would answer me, and that in touching on various details of this great question he would come to the point. He answered only on the general lines of his previous remarks, adding ironically to his old refrain, “Austria ought to be delighted to hear what you say. In creating a kingdom for the King of Prussia, Alexander’s friend, I should rouse too much laughter among the English. Don’t you see that this would be playing their game?”
“I have not mentioned the King of Prussia,” I answered. “The King of Saxony, or any other monarch, might rule this state. Who knows, in the arrangements for intervention, whether the powers would not consent to have on the throne some prince of the Confederation or some other person agreeable to Your Majesty?”
Although my observations appeared to be little to the Emperor’s taste, yet I reflected that I had already said too much to stop at that point, and that the Emperor would do well to realize that no one was hoodwinked by our policy. So I added:
“If Your Majesty does not act on these lines, I ought to say frankly that everyone in Europe, as in France, will see that the war in Russia or Poland, for which you are preparing, is not in order to create a buffer state, as Your Majesty would have us believe, but for some purpose for which that is merely the pretext.”
The Emperor seemed a little provoked and said, as he invariably did when a matter was broached that displeased him: “I am not asking your advice.”
Nevertheless he led the conversation round to the topic of Russia. He went into each question in detail, spoke of every grievance as though he were going over each step with his cabinet and seeking to explain himself and win agreement.
As the Emperor still seemed anxious that I should see Prince Kurakin, I told him that I would not be a party to deceiving anyone, least of all the Tsar, by taking a step that would amount to trickery, for I had no longer any authority to speak of affairs. All these preparations would be a misfortune for France and a matter for regret and embarrassment to the Emperor himself, and I had no wish to give myself cause for reproach for having contributed to it. The Emperor turned his back on me, saying drily that I understood nothing about policy, and thereupon left me.
I continued to live in retirement, maintaining the utmost reserve. I saw no Russians, and even avoided meeting Prince Kurakin. More than a month had passed without my seeing any of them, when the Emperor had another conversation with me, shortly before his departure. Once again he returned to his supposed grievances. This time his conversation seemed to show what was really in his mind. The Emperor could no longer make pretences about his plans for departure, but he still tried to persuade me that he neither wished to establish Poland nor to have any kind of war, but hoped that everything would be cleared up and arranged without coming to blows.
We used the same arguments on each side and talked from the same premises. I further urged all my beliefs as to the inconveniences, not to say the dangers, of such a distant expedition which would keep him away from France so long. I spoke of how he was continually being reproached for running such risks, for gambling with such splendid and mighty destinies, when he could exercise a great and powerful influence from his desk in the Tuileries. I mentioned the effect in France of risks forced on the youth of the nation—risks no longer, as aforetime, confined exclusively to the lower orders of society. I represented to him how he had already been condemned in this connection for the war in Spain, and the danger of going far away before its termination.
I told him that he should strike first in Spain, if he persisted in his desire for this unfortunate war with Russia. I described the country to him, the climate, the advantage the enemy would have in allowing him to advance and wear himself out by marching without the chance to fight. I reminded him of the words of the Tsar which I had already reported. I also recalled to him the privations and discontent of the troops during his last campaign in Poland. To all my arguments his reply was that I had turned Russian, and that I understood nothing of great affairs.
“But if I understand nothing, Sire,” I retorted with a smile, “why does Your Majesty do me the honour of discussing policy with me? I can do nothing in this matter except through love of my country and attachment to your person. Such noble sentiments cannot lead me into error and keep me in error so long. Your Majesty is not so gracious towards those who are not of your opinion that you can imagine it is amusing to contradict you; indeed, such a course, so far as my friends and myself are concerned, has not been so successful as to encourage me to continue it. It must therefore be a matter of conscience and conviction. Your Majesty is carried away by false reports. You are confused and deluded as to the dangers of the course you are taking. You think you are pushing forward to a great and politic objective, and I am convinced that you are mistaken.”
The Emperor replied with warmth that it was the Tsar of Russia who desired war; M. Lauriston had informed him that all the Russian armies were on the march, even those from the Turkish frontier; the soft words of the Emperor Alexander had befogged me. He said that he had known of Russia’s hostile intentions only when he sent another ambassador, who informed him by every courier that the English were trading openly in St. Petersburg, and that there had even been an attempt to rob M. Longuerue, the aide-de-camp, of the despatches which M. Lauriston had forwarded to him.
The Emperor was doubtless unaware that I had seen young M. Longuerue and knew all about his adventure.
This young officer, travelling as a courier in a heavy barouche which was making slow progress through the sand, had quarrelled with a Russian courier whose light kibitk overtook him. The Frenchman thought he had the same right in Russia as in France to stop the Russian from passing him; the other, staunch in his rights as a government courier, and with his lighter equipage, urged his postilion forward, easily overtaking and passing M. Longuerue’s carriage, which was half stuck in the mud. In a fury, M. Longuerue fired his pistols at the Russian, who paid as little heed to the other’s shots as to his threats. At Riga the governor intervened, pointed out to the Frenchman the irregularity of his conduct, and, out of regard for his position as a bearer of government despatches, let the impetuous young man proceed. But the governor reported the matter to his Court, and M. Lauriston was so incensed at the conduct of his aide-de-camp that he dismissed him. This is what the Emperor cited to me as an attack against one of his couriers for the purpose of robbing him of his despatches.
During this conversation with the Emperor, I noticed that he was more thoughtful than usual. Some of my reflections seemed to have impressed him more than he was willing to show. The arrival of the Duke of Bassano, who was announced as bringing despatches from Vienna, interrupted this conversation, which I felt that the Emperor wished to prolong. He dismissed me, and doubtless resumed in another conversation the irresistible course of fatality which was drawing him forward.
By this time the Emperor had already taken his decision. Austria had practically consented to become his ally, and Prussia had had no alternative but to lay up a rod for her own back.
Some days after my last conversation with the Emperor he had sent off a portion of the Household. Horses and carriages were already on the way to Dresden, ostensibly for the interview with the Emperor of Austria.
The Emperor left Paris on May 9.
It is said that we went to Dresden by way of Bamberg to avoid the German princelings. The truth is that the Emperor wanted to avoid Weimar.14 He kept on saying, and the Court repeated it after him, that he did not want war. Rumours were purposely spread of an interview with the Tsar Alexander, and attempts were made to find confirmation of these rumours in the mission of M. Narbonne, who was sent to that sovereign’s court.
Dresden was reached on May 16.
The Emperor and all those attached to the ministry were at pains to tinge our conduct, views and actions with moderation, in order to keep appearances on our side, and so impress Austria. To this end particular care was taken to appear conciliatory and moderate; efforts were also made to lull into a false sense of security those whom it was desired to attack.
The Emperor had travelled with the Empress. For six weeks the whole countryside had been working to repair the roads we had to follow. The King and Queen of Saxony had preceded Their Majesties to Plauen. There was a torchlight procession at our entrance into Dresden, where the Austrian Court arrived two days later. Since politics was none of my business, I did not gather enough certain knowledge of what passed at that interview to enable me to relate it in detail.
The Emperor set things in motion to circumvent M. Metternich—and especially to see that there should be echoes about his moderation and his anxiety to obtain, through M. Narbonne, the explanations which the Tsar of Russia had refused to Austria, so as to effect a general conciliation without recourse to hostilities. For the first, and perhaps for the last time, the Emperor spoke very well of M. Metternich.
Russia had indeed betrayed a certain arrogance in not entering into explanations with the Viennese cabinet, which would gladly have listened to them. If this conduct showed a certain dignity it also showed clumsiness; for it strengthened our cause in the public view, and thus played into our hands.
M. Narbonne, who had been sent to Wilna to the Tsar Alexander, arrived back at Dresden. The Emperor instructed him to see M. Metternich and tell the Emperor of Austria what he wished to be known about his mission.
The Emperor, who thought that the part he had taken in the marriage of the Archduchess Marie Louise, his reputation as a man of intelligence, and his relations with Prince Schwarzenburg, would render M. Narbonne particularly agreeable to the Austrian Court, had chosen him expressly for this mission, thinking that whatever he said would have all the more effect on the mind of the Imperial father-in-law.
M. Narbonne came to see me and told me what the Tsar had said to him, what he had observed, and what he had loyally reported to the Emperor Napoleon, who had instructed him to repeat it in part to the Emperor of Austria and M. Metternich.
I note, more or less, M. Narbonne’s exact words, for I wrote them down at the time; and this conversation having been repeated to me several times by him, I have been able to verify the accuracy of my notes.
The Tsar Alexander had welcomed him cordially. He had been welcomed by everyone; their general bearing was appropriate to the occasion, dignified but not boastful. He attended two reviews. The troops appeared to be a fine body of men. M. Rumiantsof was not there at the time of his arrival. From the outset the Tsar had spoken to him frankly:
“I shall not be the first to draw the sword. I have no wish to be saddled, in the eyes of Europe, with the responsibility of the blood that will be shed in this war. For eighteen months I have been threatened. The French army is three hundred leagues from its own country and actually on my frontiers, whereas I am on my own territory. Vital points on my frontiers are being fortified and armed; arms are being sent up; the Poles are being incited; an outcry is being raised that I harbour neutrals and admit Americans, while all the time the Emperor is selling licences in France, admitting vessels that are being used to carry freight from England. The Emperor is swelling his fiscal receipts and ruining some of his unfortunate subjects. From the start, I have declared that I have no intention of doing this. I cannot take money from the pockets of my subjects to put into my own.
“The Emperor Napoleon and his agents declare that I favour England and do not carry out the measures of the Continental System. If this were true, would sixty or eighty ships have been seized as contraband? Do you imagine that the English have not been knocking at my door in every way they could? Had I wished, I could have had ten English agents for every one that I have had; but I have not so much as listened to them. Three hundred thousand French troops are ready to cross my frontier, though I am still in the alliance and faithful to all the engagements I have made. When I change, I will do so openly. Ask Caulaincourt what I said to him when the Emperor Napoleon deviated from the alliance, and what I told him on his departure. Caulaincourt is a man of honour, and not a man to be imposed upon. As I was then, so I am to-day, whatever the Emperor Napoleon may have done to break our friendly relations.
“He is raising Austria, Prussia, all Europe in arms against Russia; yet I am still in the alliance, so firmly has my reason forbidden me to believe that he would wish to sacrifice real advantages to the hazards of this war. I am under no illusions. I render too much justice to his military talents not to have calculated all the risks than an appeal to arms may involve for us, but, having done all I could to preserve peace honourably and uphold a political system which might lead to universal peace, I will do nothing to besmirch the honour of the nation over which I rule. The Russian nation is not one to shrink from danger. All the bayonets in Europe waiting at my frontiers will not make me speak otherwise.
“My patience and moderation come not from weakness, but from the duty of a sovereign to heed no feelings of resentment—to envisage nothing but the peace and welfare of his people in questions of such far-reaching importance, and when he can hope to avert a struggle which must cost them so many sacrifices. Can the Emperor Napoleon, in all good faith, demand explanations when, in a time of total peace, he invades the north of Germany, when he fails to observe the engagements of the alliance and carry out the principles of his Continental System? Is it not he who should explain his motives?”
The Tsar, moreover, told him that at the moment of speaking he was under no engagement contrary to the alliance; that he was strong in the rights and justice of his cause; and that he would defend himself if attacked. He concluded by spreading out a map of Russia and pointing to the farthest limits of the country.
“If the Emperor Napoleon is determined on war,” he said, “and if Fortune does not smile on our just cause, he will have to go to the end of the earth to find peace.”
He then said once again that he would not fire the first shot, but also that he would sheathe the sword last.
M. Narbonne further told me that during his stay at Wilna the Tsar Alexander had always spoken to him in this sense, unaffectedly and without ill-feeling, not even showing any bitterness towards the Emperor Napoleon personally; he had also spoken of myself with great esteem and kindness. M. Narbonne seemed quite content with all that the sovereign had said, and was convinced of the truth of his arguments. He added that the Emperor Napoleon seemed to be impressed by the report made to him, though he kept on complaining of the Tsar’s falseness, and constantly returned to his chapter of grievances against him.
The King of Prussia and the Crown Prince, whom the Emperor had wished to meet in Dresden for the purpose of some kind of public reconciliation which would guarantee the satisfactory and free co-operation of Prussia, arrived in Dresden [May 26]. Some thought that the Emperor would not treat the King well, for he did not like him and always observed, when speaking of him, “He is merely a drill sergeant, a blockhead.” But the Emperor made his good-humour wait on his interest; and at the moment it was very much to his interest to persuade the King that he was admitting him freely into the political scheme of France, and had no hidden motives of hostility. The King and the Crown Prince went away delighted with the welcome they had received.
The Emperor left Dresden on May 29; the Empress was at Prague, where she had gone to pass a short time with the Austrian Court. The Emperor stayed from June 7 to 10 at Danzig. That was the great army depot, the place where everything had been organized and prepared during the last two years, and to which the Emperor devoted the greatest attention; for it was the strong point which had to supply all his needs.
The King of Naples, who had not received permission to repair to Dresden, ostensibly out of regard for the Emperor of Austria, was waiting there for the Emperor Napoleon. On the score that his father-in-law always had Italy much at heart, the Emperor pretended that he did not wish to mar the Emperor Francis’s pleasure at seeing his daughter again by the sight of a sovereign who would only recall painful memories. The truth is that that was a very convenient pretext. The Emperor remarked, in confidence, that he did not want Murat to establish relations with the Austrians, with whom too many ties already existed between the Queen and Metternich. “Murat’s head will be turned if the Emperor of Austria treats him well, and he will be certain to talk all sorts of nonsense....”
The Emperor Napleon’s first words to General Rapp, Governor of Danzig, were:
“What are your merchants doing with all their money? War is going to start. Now I will look after that myself.”
In the course of a conversation after dinner he remarked to Rapp, the King of Naples and several other persons that the Prussians and even the Austrians would make common cause with us; that Alexander did not expect this, and would be greatly embarrassed, although he had wanted the war. He added that if Alexander really did not want war he could still avert it; but that the situation would be clarified in a few days. It could easily be seen that this talk was designed to be repeated by all the political echoes. The Emperor’s real wishes were expressed in the remarks, uttered in the presence of myself and several other persons, when he first saw Rapp.
That evening and the next morning the Emperor complained much to me of the King of Naples, who, he said, was no longer a Frenchman and had forgotten what he owed to his country and his benefactor. On his side, the King complained to Berthier, Duroc and myself that the Emperor had made him merely a viceroy, an instrument for squeezing money out of his subjects, and so on.
The Emperor welcomed the King quite cordially in public; but taking him aside, undoubtedly to forestall his complaints, he began by scolding and being angry with him. He expostulated with him for his ingratitude, and, at the close of the conversation, he showed both vexation and sentiment—“both necessary in dealing with this Neapolitan Pantaloon,” he told me. “He has a good heart, and at bottom he likes me better than his lazzarone. When he sees me he is mine; but away from me, he sides, like all spineless men, with anyone who flatters or makes up to him. If he had come to Dresden his vanity and self-interest would have led him into countless follies in trying to manage the Austrians. His wife is ambitious, and has stuffed his head with foolishness. He wants to have the whole of Italy; that is his dream, and that is what prevents him from wanting the crown of Poland.
“I would put Jerome on the throne and make a splendid kingdom for him; but he would have to do something for it, for the Poles love true glory. Jerome cares for nothing but pageantry, women, plays and fêtes. My brothers do not back me up. Their only princely quality is their foolish vanity; they lack talent and energy. I have to govern for them. Without me they would ruin the poor Westphalians to enrich their favourites and mistresses, to give fêtes and build palaces. My brothers think of nothing but themselves, yet I set them a good example. I am the King of the people, for I spend nothing except on encouraging the arts and leaving memories that shall be glorious and useful to the nation. It can never be said that I endow favourites and mistresses. I give rewards only for services rendered to the country—nothing else.”
Headquarters and the staff were moved to Thorn, whence everything was sent on to Insterburg, along with the Guard, on the morning after arrival. The Emperor joined headquarters at Insterburg and followed its movement in the direction of Kovno, passing by Gumbinnen, Stalluppöhnen, Wilkowischki and a forest road, leaving Mariampol on the right. The troops marching along the road were superb, and received the Emperor with real enthusiasm. The men of the First Corps [Davout’s] were noticeable for their fine bearing and general smartness. Coming from excellent quarters, fresh from the hands of a commander who had drilled them long and well, they could rival the Guard. All this mass of youth was full of ardour and good health. In their knapsacks the men of this corps carried rations for a fortnight.