"Sire, before your majesty has dined?"
"Ah, you are hungry, then? You would like to dine?"
"Sire, I believe all the gentlemen entertain the same desire. None of us
have tasted food for eight hours."
"Eight hours, and you are already hungry again? Truly, this German air
exerts a bad effect upon my brave marshals. Like the Germans, you want
to eat all the time. Well, let it so be; as we are in Germany, I will
comply with your wishes. Let us dine, therefore, and afterward go to the
country-palace of Frederick II. Be kind enough to issue your orders,
grand-marshal. Let the horses be ready; we shall set out as soon as we
have dined. Tell Roustan to come to me!"
Napoleon was now again the sovereign, and it was in this capacity that
he dismissed Duroc, who left the room with a respectful bow. Roustan,
who had already heard the order in the anteroom, glided past him, to
assist Constant in the emperor's toilet.
CHAPTER IX.
SANS-SOUCI.
Duroc hastened once more through the rooms and halls to the corridor,
where the palace-steward came to meet him.
"Dinner is ready, grand marshal," he said.
"And have you set another table in the adjoining room?"
"Your orders have been punctually obeyed."
"Be good enough, then, to conduct me to the large dining-hall."
The steward bowed in silence, and led the way. All the marshals and
generals were already assembled when Duroc entered.
"Gentlemen," he said, smiling, "his majesty is now occupied with his
toilet, and Roustan has assured me that it would last half an hour. We
have half an hour, therefore, to take our dinner." Followed by the
others, he went into the next room. A table had been set there, and
appetizing odors invited them to sit down to it.
"Now, steward, have every thing served up as quick as possible. We have
but twenty minutes left." During that time there reigned profound
silence, only now and then interrupted by a word or a brief remark. The
marshals contented themselves in making the viands disappear, and
emptying the bottles. Duroc, who had frequently cast anxious glances at
the large clock, now rose hastily. "Gentlemen," he said, "our time is
up, and we must be ready for the emperor's dinner. I will go to his
majesty, and conduct him to the dining-hall. I hope all of you have
eaten well, so as not to need much of the official repast to which we
are going. The emperor has graciously ordered us all to dine with him.
Be so kind as to repair to the hall."
When Napoleon entered, a few minutes later, preceded by Duroc, he found
all the marshals assembled. The dinner commenced, and he, it seemed, was
no less hungry than his generals, for not only did he eat his soup with
the utmost rapidity, but when he saw one of his favorite dishes placed
near him, he smiled and nodded kindly to the grand marshal, who was
standing at his right, and presented him a glass of wine.
"See how attentive these dear Germans are!" he said. "If I am not
mistaken, this is my favorite dish, _fricassee a la Marengo."_
"Yes, sire, I sent the bill of fare hither last night by the courier
who announced your majesty's arrival, and I am glad to see that it has
been punctually attended to."
"So these German cooks know already how to prepare a _fricassee a la
Marengo?_ Who has taught them this?"
"Your majesty; your majesty is now the cook and butler for all
Germany--everybody has become familiar with your favorite dishes."
The emperor smiled. Placing a piece of bread on his fork, he dipped it
into the dish, and repeated this several times; and when the grand
marshal placed before him a silver plate, filled with a portion of the
same, he commenced to eat rapidly. Aware of his habit, his attendants
had taken care that the pieces of meat were sufficiently small, and the
whole dish not too hot. He began to eat the meat with a fork, and the
sauce with a spoon, but he seemed to regard both as too inconvenient;
for he laid them aside, and, after the fashion of the Turks, used his
delicate white hands, adorned with diamond-rings.[13] Scarcely twelve
minutes had elapsed when he rose. The grand marshal immediately
presented to him a golden basin and a napkin to wash his hands.
[Footnote 13: Constant, for many years Napoleon's devoted _valet de
chambre_, gives in his reminiscences a detailed account of the emperor's
habits, and writes as follows about his mode of dining: "The great
rapidity with which the emperor was accustomed to eat was frequently
very injurious to his health. One of the immediate effects of this habit
was, that he did not eat very cleanly. He liked to use his fingers
instead of a fork, and, indeed, instead of a spoon. Great care was taken
always to place a favorite dish before him. He partook of it in the
manner above described, dipping his bread into the sauce, which did not
prevent the other guests from eating of the same dish, or at least
such as wished to do so, and there were few who did not. I have even
seen some who pretended to regard this favorite dish as a way of
doing homage to the emperor. Napoleon's favorite dish was a sort of
chicken-fricassee, called, in honor of the conqueror of Italy,
'_fricassee a la Marengo_.'"--Constant, Memoires, vol. ii., p. 56.]
Napoleon's guests had done well in dining beforehand; for, as the
servants did not attend to them so quickly as to their master, and as
they, moreover, were not able to eat so fast as he, they would assuredly
have risen hungry from the table.[14]
[Footnote 14: The guests invited to the imperial table always dined
beforehand. The emperor, in the haste with which he ate, did not notice
that the others had no time to do so. Once, when he departed from the
table, and Eugene, his stepson, rose immediately after him, Napoleon
turned to him, and said:
"But you have had no time to eat?"
"Pardon me," replied the prince, "I dined beforehand."--"Memoires de
Constant," vol. ii., p. 55.]
"To horse, gentlemen!" exclaimed Napoleon. "Let us ride over to
Sans-souci, and do homage to the manes of the king who was a philosopher
and a great general at the same time."
The streets of Potsdam were deserted as the emperor and his brilliant
suite rode through them. All the windows were closed; the citizens were
nowhere to be seen; only a crowd of idle boys followed the imperial
cavalcade. The soldiers of the grand French army alone greeted the
emperor with joyous cheers outside of the city, where they were
encamped. Potsdam thought, perhaps, of its king, who had immortalized
it, and was sad and ashamed that those whom Frederick the Great had
routed in so glorious a manner at Rossbach now made their triumphal
entry into his capital.
Napoleon's brow was gloomy; this silence of the population was
disagreeable and oppressive. It seemed to him to be a sign of the
hostile spirit of the Prussians; and as he was riding slowly, his head
slightly bent forward, along the avenue toward Sans-souci, he muttered:
"This is a malicious and infamous trick! The haughty nobility will still
oppose me, but I will crush them. They must not succeed, however, in
making me angry, but I shall chastise those who have induced the
citizens to remain at home, and not to greet me." And, thoughtfully, he
rode on toward the country-seat of Frederick the Great.
No one was at the palace to welcome him but the castellan, a venerable
man, who, with a few aged servants in faded liveries, received the
all-powerful conqueror at the open folding-doors of the hall leading to
the terrace. Napoleon looked at him with a rapid, piercing glance. "You
lived in the period of Frederick II.?" he asked hastily.
"Yes, sire, we were fortunate enough to serve the great king," said the
castellan, in faultless, fluent French. "Hence, the honorable task has
been intrusted to us to watch over his sacred resting-place, and to
protect it from injury."
"The name of the great king is a sufficient protection for this house,"
said Napoleon. "My soldiers have a profound respect for true greatness;
they will not dare to desecrate this sanctuary. Be my guide, my friend.
Let me see the sitting-room of your king!"
"Of the present king, sire?" asked the castellan.
Napoleon smiled. "I think there is but one king in Sans-souci," he
said, "and that is Frederick II. Conduct me to his sitting-room!" and
rapidly crossing the semicircular marble hall, he walked toward the
side-door which the castellan opened.
"Sire," he said, solemnly, "this is the king's sitting-room; it is still
furnished precisely as when he lived in it. It has undergone no change
whatever."
Napoleon entered; his marshals followed him. None of them uttered a
word; every one seemed involuntarily to tread lightly, as if he feared
to disturb the silence reigning in this room, sacred by its great
reminiscences. The emperor walked rapidly into the middle of the room;
there he paused with folded arms, and his large dark eyes glided slowly
from object to object. The marshals moved softly around, and, on
contemplating the old-fashioned furniture, their ragged silken covers,
the plain desk with the inkstand placed near the window, the large
easy-chair, shrouded in a ragged purple blanket, smiled disdainfully and
whispered to each other that this was a room entirely unfit for a king,
and that one might purchase better and more tasteful furniture of any
second-hand dealer in Paris. Napoleon, perhaps, had overheard their
words, or at least noticed their whisperings, for he bent an angry
glance on them. "Gentlemen," he said, "this is a place which deserves
our profound respect. Here lived one who was a greater general than
Turenne, and from whose campaigns we all might derive instruction.
Alexander the Great himself would have admired Frederick's battle of
Leuthen."
The aged castellan, who was standing at the door, raised his head, and
with a kind glance seemed to thank Napoleon for the tribute he had paid
to the manes of the heroic dead.
The emperor's eyes were now fixed on the large clock placed on a gilded
pedestal. It was a master-piece of the period of Louis XV., and adorned
in the most brilliant roccoco style. The large dial, with the figures of
colored enamel, rested in a frame and case of splendidly-wrought gold,
and this was surmounted by a portrait of the Emperor Titus, with the
inscription, "_Diem perdidi_."
"Is that the clock which the king caused to be purchased from the heirs
of the Marquise de Pompadour?"
"Yes, sire, it is. It has always stood in this room, since he purchased
it. Frederick the Great prized it very highly, and consulted it
exclusively until his death. And it seemed to know that he liked it, for
when he closed his eyes, the clock stopped and never went again."
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, "since the death of Frederick the
government of Prussia, it seems, really did not know the time any more.
And what about that ragged old easy-chair? Did the king use it, too?"
"Sire," said the castellan, solemnly, laying stress on every word he
uttered--"sire, the great king died in that chair; his head rested on
the pillow now lying on the seat, and he was covered with that blanket."
The emperor rapidly approached; the marshals followed his example and
walked toward it on tiptoe. He stood before it; his arms folded, his
lips compressed, contemplating it. Behind him stood the marshals, whose
indifferent countenances and curious glances contrasted strangely with
the pale face of their master. Not far from them, near the door, stood
the white-haired castellan; his hands clasped, and his head bowed
mournfully on his breast.
Suddenly the room was filled with light; the sun, which had hitherto
been hidden by clouds, burst forth and shone brilliantly; golden beams
fell upon the easy-chair of Frederick the Great, and surrounded it, as
it were, with a halo.
"This, then, is the death-bed of the great king," said Napoleon,
musingly. "The gods did not permit him to fall on the battle-field.
Disease and age vanquished the hero of the Seven Years' War, and he died
not amid the triumphs of his soldiers, but solitary and alone! May
Providence, in His mercy, preserve us from such a fate!" And turning
quickly to the castellan, he asked, "Were you present when the king
died?"
"Yes, sire, I was; for I was his _valet de chambre_."
"Tell me the last words he uttered."
"Sire, he spoke repeatedly, but so inaudibly and rapidly that we did not
apprehend him. The last words which we were able to understand were:
'Give me back my soldiers of the Seven Years' War! I am tired of ruling
over slaves!'"
"Strange, strange," murmured Napoleon; "he was tired of ruling over
slaves! as though it were possible to rule over free men! Ah, I should
like to have known this king, who was such an autocrat, and yet despised
slaves! who wielded the sword as skilfully as the pen! to whom the
booming of the cannon sounded as melodious as the notes of his
flute--who made verses with Voltaire, and won battles with Schwerin and
Ziethen! He was able to do every thing, and we have not seen his
equal!"
"Oh, sire," murmured the marshals, "your majesty forgets--"
"Silence, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, in an angry voice, pointing with his
outstretched arm to the easy-chair, "do not flatter me in _this_ room. I
wish I had known Frederick the Great, for I believe we should have
understood each other."
"Sire," said the castellan, "it is true, his majesty did not know you;
nevertheless, he dreamed of you."
Napoleon hastily turned toward him and asked: "What? He dreamed of me?
Tell me all about it. Approach!"
The castellan, obeying the sign made to him, advanced a few steps slowly
and hesitatingly.
"Sire," he said, "it was a few years after the Seven Years' War. I had
just entered the king's service, and was on duty during that night; that
is to say, I slept in the anteroom, and had received strict orders to
awaken the king at a fixed hour in the morning, and to enter his bedroom
during the night as soon as he called me, or if I should hear any noise.
Suddenly I heard the cry, 'Fire, fire!' I rushed immediately into the
bedroom, but no fire was to be seen. My master lay on his couch,
groaning, breathing heavily, and evidently under the influence of bad
dreams. I, therefore, took the liberty to awaken him. 'Ah,' said he,
heaving a deep sigh, 'I am glad you awakened me; I had a weird, terrible
dream, and I will relate it to you. I dreamed I was standing on the
terrace of Sans-souci, and around me I beheld my state and all my
palaces close together, and behind them I thought I could descry the
whole world, with all its cities and countries; it was spread out before
my eyes like a painting of wondrous beauty, and I was rapturously gazing
at it. All at once the sky grew dark; black clouds passed over it;
profound darkness covered the beautiful world, and dreadful shrieks and
groans resounded through the air. But from the midst of the black clouds
a bright, dazzling star burst like a rocket, and set fire to every
thing, until all countries were in ruins, and all cities burned down.
And as I saw that, I cried in my anguish, "Fire! fire!" Fortunately, you
came and awakened me.' That, sire," said the castellan, drawing a deep
breath, "that was the dream. The king went on to say: 'The dream, I am
sure, is a portentous one, and some remarkable event will doubtless
happen in the course of this night. Write down every thing I told you,
and remember the date and year!' I did as his majesty ordered me; I
wrote down the date, the year, and even the hour in which the dream
occurred."
"Was the dream really a portentous one? Did any remarkable event occur
in that night?"
"Yes, sire, a very remarkable event occurred in that night, but his
majesty did not hear of it; he died too early."
"When did he have that dream?" asked Napoleon, fixing his eyes on the
old man, who composedly bore the searching gaze.
A pause ensued. The castellan replied: "Sire, Frederick the Great had
that dream on the 15th of August, 1769."
"On my birthday!" ejaculated Napoleon.
"On the 15th of August, 1769," repeated the old man, "at three o'clock
in the morning."
"The hour of my birth," muttered the emperor to himself. After a short
pause he turned again toward the castellan, and a strange, sarcastic
smile played on his lips.
"The star fell from the sky, and set fire to all the palaces and
countries?" he asked.
The castellan nodded.
"And you believed that the dream referred to me, and that I am the
fallen star?"
"Sire, I only related what the king had dreamed, and in what night and
in what hour he had the remarkable dream. His majesty spoke frequently
about it, and all his friends heard of it. But nobody was able to
interpret it. He died without obtaining the solution."
"But you have solved it," said Napoleon, sneeringly. "I am the fallen
star, and you think I have come to fulfil that dream?"
"Sire, I--"
"I shall burn down your palaces and scourge your country," added he,
harshly. "Why did you irritate me? I did not commence the war; since you
desired it, I gave it to you. But tell your friends and the good
citizens of Potsdam that the dream of their king will not be entirely
fulfilled. It may be that I shall be compelled to destroy royal palaces,
but the house of the citizen and the cabin of the peasant will not feel
my wrath, nor will I lay waste your fields. Tell the good denizens of
this city--tell them not to be afraid of me; for never shall I assail
their rights and privileges, nor interfere with their interests. And
now, gentlemen, let us proceed!" He quickly crossed the room, and
entered the adjoining apartment.
"Sire, this is the reception-room of Frederick the Great," said the
castellan, who had followed. "On that table lies the full suit in which
his majesty gave his last audience--his uniform, his order of the Black
Eagle, his hat and sword."
Napoleon hastened to the table, and seized the sword. "Ah, the sword of
Frederick II.," he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes. "He often wielded it
with a victorious hand, and that hat covered a head adorned with the
laurel-wreath of the poet and the great general! These are trophies that
I prefer to all the treasures of Prussia. What a capital present for the
Invalides, especially for those who formed part of the army of Hanover!
They will be delighted, no doubt, when they see in our possession the
sword of him who beat them at Rossbach! And as my dear brother,
Frederick William III., has conferred the order of the Black Eagle on
me, I suppose he will permit me to take this decoration as a souvenir of
the greatest king of the house of Hohenzollern. What about the bell that
is placed beside the hat?"
"Sire," said the castellan, mournfully and hesitatingly, "it is the bell
which the king used during his whole reign to call the gentlemen waiting
in the anteroom, and the footmen at night."
"That bell shall stand henceforward in my cabinet and on my desk," said
Napoleon. "Grand marshal, order all these things to be packed up and to
be sent immediately to Paris, and add to them also the clock in the
other room--the clock that was so faithful to the great king as to stop
at his death, and to refuse to mark the time for any one else. I will
wind it up, and the clock of Frederick the Great must strike again for
me. Conduct us to the other rooms, castellan."
The old man cast a long and melancholy look on the precious relics that
were about to be taken from him, and took leave of them with a profound
sigh. He then conducted the party to the other rooms. He showed them the
library, where Frederick, during the last years of his life, had spent
every hour when not occupied with government affairs, longing for no
other society than that of his books. He then took them to the rooms in
which Voltaire had lived, and showed the emperor a paper on which the
king had written verses that Voltaire had corrected and revised.
Napoleon contemplated every thing with the greatest attention, and then
caused himself to be conducted to the fine long hall, in which
Frederick, accompanied by his dog, used to take his daily walk when the
weather was too bad for him to do so in the open air. The walls of this
hall were adorned with many paintings and engravings--all, however, did
not apparently belong to the period of Frederick; for there were among
them paintings and engravings representing his last hours, and his
lonely nocturnal funeral.--Others again depicted the scene of young
Frederick William II. standing by the corpse of his great uncle, and
swearing with tearful eyes, his hand placed on the head of Frederick,
that he would be a just and good ruler to his people.
"And what does this picture represent?" asked Napoleon, pointing to an
engraving by the side of the above-mentioned painting.
"Sire," said the castellan, in confusion, "it is a copper-plate,
representing the king's tomb. It does not properly belong here, but has
been placed here temporarily. The artist sent it hither with the request
to place it somewhere in Sans-souci, and I hung it up in this place
until my master disposes of it in some other way."
"But what about this one?" asked the emperor, whose piercing eyes were
fixed on another engraving. "There is the tomb of Frederick; two men, in
full uniform, are standing by its side; a beautiful lady is with them,
and all three are raising their hands in an odd manner. Ah, ah, now I
comprehend: that is last year's scene, when the Emperor Alexander took
leave of the king and queen at the grave of Frederick the Great, and
swore eternal friendship to them as well as eternal enmity to France?
That is what this engraving represents, I suppose?"
"Yes, sire, it is," said the castellan, timidly.
Napoleon, with a flashing glance, called his marshals to his side.
"Behold there, gentlemen, one of those theatrical scenes with which
people here in Prussia were declaiming against me, while I was silent,
but arming against them," said he with a sneer. "If the King of Prussia
does not fulfil the other oaths he has taken more faithfully than this
one, I pity his people; but he has incurred the retribution of the gods,
who insist on it that men shall fulfil their promises or they will be
crushed. We have seen enough of the place where Frederick the Great
passed his life; let us pay a last visit to him in his tomb. Where is
it?"
"In Potsdam, sire, in the church close to the palace."
"Very well. Come, gentlemen. And you, castellan, do not forget that the
dream has not been altogether fulfilled. The 'fallen star' is only a
devouring fire to the kings who bid him defiance, but not to the people
who obediently submit." He nodded, stepped from the hall into the
anteroom, and then into the vestibule, where the horses were ready for
him and his suite.
The old man gazed mournfully after the brilliant cavalcade. "He looks
like a marble statue," he muttered, "and I believe that he has no heart
in his breast. Every thing in him is made of stone. If he had a heart,
he would not dare to come hither and appropriate with a rapacious hand
the sacred relics of our great king. I must really go and see whether
his commands to that effect will be carried out or not." And he left the
hall with youthful alacrity, hastening through the apartments back to
the reception-room.
Yes, the commands had been obeyed! The hat and sword, the order of the
Black Eagle, and the bell, had disappeared. The old castellan uttered a
groan, and proceeded to the sitting-room. His anxious eyes glanced at
the spot where the clock had stood. That was also gone. But he heard men
talking and laughing in the anteroom, and when he hastened hither, he
saw some of the emperor's servants, who, in compliance with the orders
of the grand marshal, were engaged in packing up the relics in a basket,
and jesting at what they called the strange and insignificant spoils
which the emperor had obtained here. The white-haired servants of
Frederick the Great were standing close by, and witnessing with tearful
eyes the removal of treasures so sacred on account of the reminiscences
connected with them. The men were just engaged in placing the clock on
the other articles in a basket. The castellan approached hurriedly and
placing his hand on the dial, said in a low voice, "Farewell! The eyes
of Frederick the Great have often gazed at you. His eyes were also
stars, but not fallen stars, and they did not scorch and burn, but
rendered the people happy. Farewell, faithful clock, that stopped with
grief in the last hour of my king! When _his_ last hour comes, announce
it loudly and joyously, and commence going again, for the worst time
will be over then, and the fallen star will cease burning. Farewell, and
strike that hour as soon as possible!"[15]
[Footnote 15: The clock remained in Napoleon's possession and
accompanied him to St. Helena. It stood on the mantel-piece in his small
parlor, and is mentioned in his will. He bequeathed it to his son, the
Duke de Reichstadt, in the following words: "The clock which always
awakened me in the morning; it belonged to Frederick II., and I
appropriated it in Potsdam." The bell he also bequeathed to his son.
Many conflicting statements have been made concerning the sword Napoleon
took. It was certainly not the sword which Frederick had worn to the
last. The latter had a leathern scabbard which, in several defective
places, had been repaired with sealing-wax because Frederick found this
to be less expensive than to have it repaired by a harness-maker. The
king had taken this sword along, when, in September, 1806, he repaired
with the queen to the headquarters of the army; it accompanied him
during his flight, and was safely brought back by him. It was afterward
at the "_Kunstkammer_" In Berlin. The sword which Napoleon sent to Paris
had been presented to Frederick by Peter III. of Russia, who, it is well
known, was an ardent admirer of the great king. Blucher, in 1814,
brought it back from Paris.]
Looking even more gloomy than on leaving the city, the emperor rode with
his suite again through the deserted, silent streets of Potsdam. The
brilliant cavalcade moved as slowly and solemnly as a funeral procession
toward the church, the lower vault of which contained the coffin with
the remains of Frederick. The sexton and his assistants, bearing the
large bunch of keys and a blazing torch, conducted the emperor through
the dark and silent corridors, and opened the heavy, clanking iron doors
leading into the vault. Napoleon entered. For a moment he stood still on
the threshold and gazed in surprise at its plain, gloomy vault, the
walls of which were not adorned with trophies, nor with any decorations
whatever, and at that humble wooden coffin, which stood so bare and
solitary in the middle of the sombre room. Behind him were his marshals,
who looked at the strange scene with an air of curiosity and
astonishment.
"Ah," said Napoleon, gently turning his head toward them, and pointing
with his right hand to the coffin, "a man must have distinguished
himself by many great deeds, and obtained immortal glory, to need thus
no earthly pomp and splendor!"
He approached closely to the coffin; folding his arms on his breast, his
lips firmly compressed, he gazed long and steadfastly at it. The blaze
of the torch shed a bright light on his face, and as his pale head alone
was distinctly visible in the darkness, the beholders might have
believed one of the marble statues of the Cæsars on the terrace of
Sans-souci, had descended from its pedestal in order to pay a visit to
the dead king.
After a long pause Napoleon's eye resumed its wonted brilliancy. He
pointed with a strange smile at the dust covering the lid of the coffin.
"Dust without and dust within! that within was a great king and a hero;
yet that without is more lasting than the oaths which the Emperor
Alexander swore here a year ago, with Frederick William and the
beautiful Louisa. Even the kiss which Alexander imprinted at that time
on the coffin of Frederick is no longer visible; dust has covered it,
and equalized every thing." Thus speaking, he drew lines with his hand;
without knowing it, perhaps, his finger traced a large _N_ in the dust
of the royal coffin. He then hastily left the dark vault to return to
the palace.[16]
[Footnote 16: One of Horace Vernet's most beautiful paintings represents
this visit of Napoleon paid to the grave of Frederick the Great.]
The emperor paced the room a long while, his hands clasped on his back;
he then rang the bell impetuously, and sent for the chief of his
cabinet, M. de Menneval.
"Be seated," said he, as soon as that functionary made his appearance;
"take my pen, I will dictate to you my eighteenth bulletin."[17]
[Footnote 17: Napoleon wrote or dictated all his bulletins without
consulting any one in regard to them. After being dictated, the
bulletins were, however, submitted to Talleyrand, who took good care to
make no alteration.]
M. de Menneval sat down at the desk. Napoleon walked slowly up and down,
and dictated in a loud, stern voice as follows: "The emperor arrived in
Potsdam on the 25th of October, and took up his residence at the royal
palace. He visited on the first day Sans-souci and the environs of
Potsdam, spending some time in the rooms of Frederick II., where every
thing is still in the same condition as at the time of his death. In the
arsenal at Berlin, five hundred cannon, several hundred thousand pounds
of powder, and several thousand muskets, were found in excellent
condition. It has been noticed as a singular coincidence that the
emperor arrived in Potsdam on the same day and at the same hour, and
occupied the same rooms, as the Emperor of Russia during the latter's
visit--a visit last year which has had such fatal consequences for
Prussia. Since that moment the queen has forgotten to take care of her
domestic affairs, and of the most important duties of the toilet, in
order to occupy herself with politics, gain power over the king, and
spread everywhere the evil influence which possesses her. The result of
that famous oath which was taken on the 4th of November, 1805, is the
battle of Austerlitz, and the speedy evacuation of Germany by the
Russian army in the manner prescribed by France. Forty-eight hours
afterward that oath at the coffin of Frederick the Great was made the
subject of a copper-plate, which is to be found in all the shops, and
even causes the peasants to laugh. On it is represented the handsome
Emperor of Russia; by his side the queen, and opposite him the king, who
lifts up his hand over the coffin; the queen, wrapped in a shawl, like
lady Hamilton, as seen on the London copper-plates, places her hand on
her heart, and seems to look at the Emperor of Russia. It is
incomprehensible how the Berlin police could permit the circulation of
so base a satire. At all events, the shade of Frederick cannot have
contemplated this scandalous scene but with indignation and disgust. His
mind, his genius, his wishes, belong to the French nation, which he
esteemed so highly, and of which he said that, if he were its king, no
cannon should be discharged in Europe without his permission. On his
return from Sans-souci the emperor visited also the tomb of Frederick
the Great. The remains of this great man are reposing in a wooden
coffin, covered with one of copper, and in a vault devoid of drapery,
trophies, or any thing that might remind the beholder of his heroic
deeds. The emperor has presented the _Hotel des Invalides_ at Paris with
the sword of Frederick, with his insignia of the order of the Black
Eagle, as well as with the stands of colors used by the king's
lifeguards in the Seven Years' War. The veterans will receive with
reverent awe every thing that belonged to one of the greatest generals
known in history."[18]
[Footnote 18: Goujon, "Collection des Bulletins de Napoleon," vol.
xvii., Bulletin xviii.]
CHAPTER X.
NAPOLEON'S ENTRY INTO BERLIN.
The city of Berlin had not exhibited for many years so festive and
lively a spectacle as on the morning of the 27th of October. An immense
crowd was moving across the Palace Place, Broad Street, and the Linden,
toward the Brandenburg Gate, and forming in line on both sides of the
street. Thousands of boys and youths climbed the linden-trees, that
stand in two rows in the middle of this thoroughfare, causing the trees
to move to and fro under their heavy burden, and gazed with eyes full of
curiosity from their lofty position on the bustle reigning beneath.
Through the crowd hundreds of busy figures were gliding, standing still
here and there, and addressing the people in low and impressive tones;
now and then, however, they did not content themselves with mere words,
but to some handed pieces of money, and whispered, "Drink the emperor's
health, in order that your throats may be prepared, when he makes his
entry, to shout in stentorian tones, '_Vive l'Empereur_!'"
These liberal adherents of Napoleon were agents of the French police,
already fully organized in Berlin--the hirelings of General Clarke, who
was now governor of the capital, and treated the subjugated inhabitants
with all the haughtiness and scorn of a triumphant conqueror.
Many tears were shed in the city during these days--many imprecations
uttered, but only secretly and in a low voice, for the people could not
venture to provoke the anger of the victor, but had to bear whatever
burdens he imposed on them. The odds were too heavy; the army was
defeated; the king with his court had fled; the higher functionaries had
either concealed themselves or loudly declared their willingness to take
the oath of allegiance to the Emperor of the French, and to serve him as
their master.
What remained, therefore, for the poor inhabitants of Berlin but to
submit? All had deserted them; even the governor had escaped, and his
lieutenant, the Prince von Hatzfeld, seemed to have no other task than
to admonish them to be quiet and obedient, and to implore them to
undertake, utter, and even think nothing that might be distasteful to
the new French government; but to bow willingly and cheerfully to every
thing that the conqueror might demand.
The citizens, therefore, had bowed to their fate; they had submitted
silently, and now hastened to the Linden and the Brandenburg Gate to
witness the entry of the emperor. Not only the citizens and the people
generally desired to witness this entry--the higher classes, and even
the ladies, were anxious to do so. Every one felt that a great
historical event was to transpire, and eagerly desired to behold the
celebrated man who was hated and admired at the same time; who was
cursed as an enemy, and yet glorified on account of his heroic deeds.
The streets and trees were filled with spectators; and the windows of
the splendid buildings, from the ground-floor up to the attic, were
crowded, and even the roofs had been opened here and there for the
purpose of obtaining more room.
The Linden exhibited a most imposing and brilliant spectacle; still it
seemed as though the crowd were to celebrate a funeral pageant, and as
though they had come as mourners for such an occasion. Nowhere joyous
faces were to be seen--nowhere were heard outbursts of mirth, or those
gay, amusing remarks with which the populace of Berlin seldom fail to
season a festival. The faces of the people were grave and gloomy; and
the ladies, standing at the open windows, were not festively adorned,
but wore black dresses, and black veils fell from their heads.
Suddenly the bells on all the steeples commenced ringing, and the
booming of artillery announced to the spectators, who had patiently
awaited this moment from eleven o'clock in the morning till four in the
afternoon, that the emperor was approaching the Brandenburg Gate from
Charlottenburg. The thousands assembled maintained a breathless silence;
even the trees did not move, for the restless boys who had climbed them
seemed petrified with astonishment at the extraordinary spectacle. The
men, who were now entering the gate, were not such soldiers as the
people of Berlin had hitherto been accustomed to see. They were not
fine-looking, neat young men in handsome uniforms, with bright leather
belts, stiff cravats, and well-powdered pigtails, but soldiers of
strange and truly marvellous appearance. Their complexion was
dark-brown, and their eyes flashing as dagger-points. Instead of wigs
and pigtails, they wore gaudily-colored turbans; instead of
close-fitting uniforms, wide red trousers and dark jackets, richly
embroidered with gold; curved sabres were hanging at their sides, and
their small, vigorous, and agile forms harmonized perfectly with their
splendid Arabian steeds, on which these sons of the desert, the
emperor's Mamelukes, were mounted.
Behind them came another corps. It consisted of tall, broad-shouldered
men, looking as formidable as Cyclops, with bearded, bronzed faces;
their heads covered with high bear-skin caps; their breasts veiled by
large leather aprons, reaching down to their knees; on their shoulders
enormous hatchets, flashing in the sun like burnished silver. And behind
these sappers came the famous grenadiers of the guard, infantry as well
as cavalry; next, the riflemen of Vincennes, in their green uniforms;
and, finally, the bands playing merry airs. The drum-major hurled his
enormous cane with its large silver head into the air, and the
soul-stirring notes of the "Marseillaise" resounded through the spacious
street. Hitherto nobody in Berlin had been permitted to play or sing
this forbidden melody, with which France had formerly accompanied her
bloodiest orgies; only secretly and softly had the people hummed it into
each other's ears; the most stringent orders, issued by the police, had
banished it from the concert-halls as well as from the streets. The
emperor, perhaps, was aware of this, and it was probably for this reason
that he had ordered it to be played; or, perhaps, the son of the
revolution, on making his entry into the capital of a "king by the grace
of God," wished to remind the people, by this hymn of the terrorists,
that it was unnecessary to be born under a royal canopy in order to wear
a crown and to be the anointed of the Lord.
But no one listened to this proscribed and fearful melody. All the
thousands in the streets, on the trees, at the windows, and on the
roofs, were paralyzed with amazement, and looked wonderingly at the new
order of things. They who had hitherto seen and known only proud
officers, mounted on horseback, staring at every citizen with
supercilious glances, and chastising their men for every trifle--they
who had always received the impression that army officers were exalted
personages, to whom they had to bow, who never ought to walk on foot, or
carry any burden whatever--now saw before them the officers of the
imperial guard differing but slightly from the privates, and not only on
foot, like them, but carrying heavy knapsacks on their backs; and, what
caused still greater astonishment, here and there kindly chatting with
their men during the march.
But suddenly there arose a tremendous commotion between the pillars of
the Brandenburg Gate, and the host of marshals and generals, resembling
a star-spangled avalanche, entered the city. Nothing was to be seen but
golden epaulettes, orders glittering with diamonds, embroidered
uniforms, and long white ostrich-plumes. Not on them, however, were the
eyes of the crowd fixed; they gazed only at that grave, pale man, who
rode by himself at the head of the dazzling suite. He wore no orders, no
golden epaulettes, no ostrich-plumes. Plain and unpretending was his
green uniform with its white facings; unadorned was his small
three-cornered hat. He sat carelessly and proudly on his magnificent
charger, which, prancing and rearing, seemed to greet the crowd. The
rider's features were as immovable as if made of stone; his eyes
occasionally, however, bent a piercing glance on the multitude, and then
gazed again into vacancy--the living emperor was transformed once more
into one of the marble triumphators of ancient Roman history. He
acknowledged, in a cold and indifferent manner only, the
constantly-repeated shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_!" with which the boys
in the trees, the hired men in the streets, and the agents of the
police, saluted him at every step. To him these cries seemed to be the
usual and indispensable musical accompaniment to the step of his horse;
he did not take notice of it when he heard it in his progress; he missed
it only when it did not rend the air.
The emperor rode on, moody, quiet, and cold; but scrutinizing and vivid
were the glances which the marshals and the rest of his suite cast in
all directions. They seemed to be anxious to observe the inhabitants,
and to greet the lovely women who were adorning the windows of the
houses like garlands of flowers. But those beautiful women did not
return their salutations, and the victorious generals saw what they had
rarely seen--that the ladies did not accept their homage--that they
looked down on them with grave, mournful mien--nay, that most of those
charming faces were bathed in tears, not such as well from joy, but from
grief and anger.
Napoleon had taken as little notice of the jubilant cheers of the crowd
as of the tears of the ladies. He rode on, absorbed in his reflections,
toward the royal palace. The bells of the cathedral--in the lower vaults
of which the remains of the royal family were reposing; in the upper
halls of which the solemn wedding ceremonies of the kings and princes
and princesses of Prussia had always been celebrated--greeted with
joyous notes the triumphant enemy, and the doors of the palace opened to
him. In the brilliant halls in which formerly the submissive vassals and
functionaries of the king had done homage to their sovereign, were now
assembled the same persons, as well as the officers and cavaliers of the
court, to receive the French emperor as their sovereign and master.
There were in those halls seven ministers of the king, the members of
the municipality of Berlin, with the two burgomasters; the high
dignitaries of the clergy of both confessions, and the officers of the
different tribunals; the members of the royal household, headed by the
king's master of ceremonies, Count von Neale. And all these gentlemen
had come to present their respects to the man who had routed their army,
driven their king and queen from the capital, and transformed their city
into a French prefecture.
The broad folding-doors opened, and the grand marshal walked through the
halls, crying in a ringing voice, "His majesty the emperor!" A profound
and solemn silence ensued. The eyes of all were turned toward the door
by which the emperor was to enter. He appeared on the threshold, as
impassive as ever. But the silence continued; the shouts of "_Vive
l'Empereur_!" which had greeted Napoleon in the streets, had not
penetrated within the white hall, where the statues of the Hohenzollerns
were standing. But this silent greeting, which might seem too much to
the ancestors of the king, did not satisfy the little soul of the proud
conqueror. The grand marshal approached to introduce the master of
ceremonies, Count von Neale, and to inquire whether the latter would be
allowed to present the several dignitaries to his majesty.
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, "you are the Count von Neale, whose daughter
is so enthusiastic and warlike an Amazon.[19] The women of Berlin,
headed by your queen, were bent upon having war; behold the result! You
ought to keep your family in bounds, sir; you ought not to permit your
children to indulge in such senseless military tirades. Assuredly, I do
not want war--not that I am distrustful of my own strength, but because
the blood of my subjects is too precious to me, and because it is my
first duty to shed it only for their honor and security. The population
of Berlin is only a victim of the war, while the instigators of the
hostilities between France and Prussia have escaped. But I will
humiliate and impoverish the court-aristocracy, who dared to oppose me,
and make them beg their bread in foreign lands."
[Footnote 19: The French police had captured, a few days previous to the
commencement of the war, a letter, written by the young Countess von
Neale, containing the following passage: "Napoleon does not want war; he
must be compelled to wage it." Napoleon had read this letter.]
The Count von Neale, pale and trembling, stammered a few unintelligible
words and intended to withdraw, withered and crushed by the emperor's
anger. But the searching eyes of Napoleon were firmly and steadfastly
fixed on him, and, as if guessing his innermost thoughts, he said, in a
cold, disdainful voice, "Remain and do your duty!" The Count von Neale,
therefore, was obliged to stay; he had to introduce to the emperor the
officials and dignitaries, after the chancellor had previously presented
to him the seven ministers of Prussia.
The persons ordered to appear at this audience had formed in line on
both sides of the white hall, and the emperor walked slowly across the
wide apartment, while the Count von Neale, who was immediately behind
him, announced in aloud voice the names and positions of those standing in the first line. |
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