To look upon that glorious and glittering band, bronzed with battle, their proud faces lit up with all the pride of victory, was indeed a triumph; and one instinctively turned to see the looks of wondering and admiration such a sight must have inspired. But with what sense of sadness came the sudden thought: this is the proud exultation of the conqueror over the conquered; here come no happy faces and bright looks to welcome those who have rescued them from slavery; here are no voices calling welcome to the deliverer. No: it was a people crushed and trodden down; their hard-won laurels tarnished and dishonored; their country enslaved; their monarch a wanderer, no one knew where. Little thought they who raised the statue of brass to the memory of the Great Frederick, that the clank of French musketry would be heard around it. Rossbach was, indeed, avenged,—and cruelly avenged.
Never did a people behave with more dignity under misfortune than the Prussians on the entrance of the French into their capital. The streets were deserted; the houses closed; the city was in mourning; and none stooped to the slavish adulation which might win favor with the conqueror. It was a triumph; but there were none to witness it. Of the nobles, scarce one remained in Berlin. They had fallen in battle, or followed the fortunes of their beaten army, now scattered and dispersed through the kingdom. Their wives and daughters, in deepest mourning, bewailed their ruined country as they would the death of a dearest friend. They cut off their blonde locks, and sorrowed like those without a hope. Their great country was to be reduced to the rank of a mere German province; their army disbanded; their king dethroned. Such was the contrast to our hour of triumph; such the sad reverse to the gorgeous display of our armed squadrons.
Scarcely had the Emperor established his headquarters at Potsdam than the whole administration of the kingdom was begun to be placed under French rule. Prefects were appointed to different departments of the kingdom; a heavy contribution was imposed upon the nation; and all the offices of the state were subjected to the control of persons named by the Emperor.
Among these, the first in importance was the post-office; for, while every precaution was taken that no interruption should occur in the transmission of the mails as usual, a cabinet noir was established here, as at Paris, whose function it was to open the letters of suspected persons, and make copies of them; the latter, indeed, were often so skilfully executed as to be forwarded to the address, while the originals were preserved as “proofs” against parties, if it were found necessary to accuse them afterwards. (And here I might mention that the art of depositing metals in a mould by galvanic process was known and used in imitating and fabricating the seals of various writers, many years before the discovery became generally known in Europe.)
The invasion of private right involved in this breach of trust gave, as might be supposed, the greatest offence throughout the kingdom. But the severity with which every case of suspicious meaning was followed up and punished converted the feelings of indignation and anger into those of fear and trepidation. For this was ever part of Napoleon's policy: the penalty of any offence was made to exclude the sense of ridicule its own littleness might have created, and men felt indisposed to jest where their mirth might end in melancholy.
The most remarkable case, and that which more than any other impressed the public mind of the period, was that of the Prince de Hatzfeld, whose letter to the King of Prussia was opened at the post-office, and made the subject of a capital charge against him. Its contents were, as might be imagined from the channel of transmission, not such as could substantiate any treasonable intention on his part. A respectful homage to his dethroned sovereign; a detail of the mournful feeling experienced throughout his capital; and some few particulars of the localities occupied by the French troops, was the entire. And for this he was tried and condemned to death,—a sentence which the Emperor commanded to be executed before sunset that same day. Happily for the fate of the noble prince, as for the fair fame of Napoleon, both Duroc and Rapp were ardently attached to him, and at their earnest entreaties his life was spared. But the impression which the circumstances made upon the minds of the inhabitants was deep and lasting; and there was a day to come when all these insults were to be remembered and avenged. If I advert to the occurrence here, it is because I have but too good reason to bear memory of it, influencing, as it did, my own future fortunes.
It chanced that one evening, when sitting in a café with some of my brother officers, the subject of the Prince de Hatzfeld's offence was mooted; and in the unguarded freedom with which one talks to his comrades, I expressed myself delighted at the clemency of the Emperor, and conceived that he could have no part in the breach of confidence which led to the accusation, nor countenance in any way his prosecution. My companions, who had little sympathy for Prussians, and none for aristocracy whatever, took a different view of the matter, and scrupled not to regret that the sentence of the court-martial had not been executed. The discussion grew warm between us; the more, as I was alone in my opinion, and assailed by several who overbore me with loud speaking. Once or twice, too, an obscure taunt was thrown out against aliens and foreigners, who, it was alleged, never could at heart forgive the ascendency of France and Frenchmen.
To this I replied hotly, for while not taking to myself an insult which my conduct in the service palpably refuted, I was hurt and offended. Alas! I knew too well in my heart what sacrifices I had made in changing my country; how I had bartered all the hopes which attach to one's fatherland for a career of mere selfish ambition. Long since had I seen that the cause I fought in was not that of liberty, but despotism. Napoleon's glory was the dazzling light which blinded my true vision; and my following had something of infatuation, against which reason was powerless. I say that I answered these taunts with hasty temper; and carried away by a momentary excitement, I told them, that they it was, not I, who would detract from the fair renown of the Emperor.
“The traits you would attribute to him,” said I, “are not those of strength, but weakness. Is it the conqueror of Egypt, of Austria, and now of Prussia, who need stoop to this? We cannot be judges of his policy, or the great events which agitate Europe. We would pronounce most ignorantly on the greatness of his plans regarding the destinies of nations; but, on a mere question of high and honorable feeling, of manly honesty, why should we not speak? And here I say this act was never his.”
A smile of sardonic meaning was the only reply this speech met with; and one by one the officers rose and dropped off, leaving me to ponder over the discussion, in which I now remembered I had been betrayed into a warmth beyond discretion.