[12] Gudin’s division was officially returned as having lost 124 officers and 3,500 men.
[13] Davout’s cocked hat, with one end shot away and a bullet-hole through the crown, is now one of the battle relics of Napoleon’s wars kept at the Invalides.
[14] In his instructions to Ney in regard to the trophies taken, Napoleon wrote this, specially with reference to a number of flags belonging to Prussian regiments elsewhere which had been temporarily stored at Magdeburg: “Les drapeaux prussiens pris dans l’arsenal de Magdeburg ne signifient rien: donnez l’ordre qu’ils soient brûlés, mais vous ferez porter en triomphe par votre premier division les drapeaux pris à la garnison, pour être remis par vous à Berlin à l’Empereur. On ne doit porter en triomphe que les drapeaux pris les armes à la main, et brûler ceux pris dans les arsenaux.”
[15] The Moniteur made this notification in addition: “The Emperor has ordered a series of eight pictures, sixteen feet by ten, each, with life-size figures, from MM. Gérard, Lethière, Gautherot, Guérin, Hennequin, Girodet, Meynier, and Gros. The pictures are intended for the galleries of the Tuileries, and will depict the most memorable events of the campaign in Germany.” They are now in the Louvre, badly “skied,” and only paid heed to by the batches of recruits who from time to time are conducted round to see them under the guidance of under-officer instructors as lecturers.
[16] The hat that Napoleon wore at Eylau is kept in the little crypt beside Napoleon’s tomb in the Invalides. It is the identical one represented in the colossal picture of the battle by Gros, to be seen at the Louvre, and was given to Gros for the picture. At the second Funeral of Napoleon in 1840, it figured beside the coffin, with the Emperor’s decorations and the sword Napoleon wore at Austerlitz.
[17] A gallant young officer of the Guard was the first man to break through the Russian line in front. With half a dozen grenadiers he made a dash forward, just as the chasseurs made their attack. Captain Ernest Auzoni—that was the young officer’s name—caught sight of a Russian flag a few paces from him, and, calling on the men of his company, led straight at it, cutting his way through. “Courage!” he shouted. “Brave comrades! Follow me!” Auzoni, describes Caulaincourt, “rushed forward sword in hand, followed by his company, and penetrated the compact centre of the Russian column: his sudden assault broke their ranks, and our grenadiers burst in through the passage opened to them by the brave Auzoni.”
Napoleon, from his post near at hand, was also an eye-witness of the captain’s daring. On the Russians falling back after the routing of the column, as the Guard were re-forming for a fresh advance, he summoned Auzoni and the men of his company before him. “Captain Auzoni,” began Napoleon as they stood in front of him, “you well deserve the honour of commanding my ‘veteran’ vieux moustaches; you have most nobly distinguished yourself. You have won an officer’s cross and an annuity of two thousand francs. You were made captain at the beginning of the campaign, and I hope you will return to Paris with still higher rank. A man who earns his honours on the field of battle stands very high in my estimation!” Turning then to the soldiers, Napoleon added: “I award ten crosses to your company!” With an enthusiastic cheer the company marched off to rejoin their comrades, and as Caulaincourt puts it, “the same men advanced to meet the enemy’s fire with a degree of courage and enthusiasm which is impossible to describe.”
The brave young Guardsman captain, though, did not see Paris again. Auzoni met his fate at Eylau. He fell later in the day, in another charge, in which he took a second Russian flag. Napoleon himself discovered him, lying at the last gasp among the mortally wounded on the field. It was next day, as Napoleon, in accordance with his invariable practice, was riding over the scene of the battle.
“Near a battery which had been abandoned by the enemy,” to use again the words of Caulaincourt, “about 150 or 200 French grenadiers were lying dead, surrounded by four times their number of Russians. They were lying weltering in a river of blood, amid broken gun-carriages, muskets, swords, and other débris. They had plainly fought with the most determined fury, for every corpse showed numerous and horrible wounds. A feeble cry of ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ was heard as we rode up. It came from the middle of this mountain of dead, and all eyes were turned instantly to the spot whence the voice proceeded. Half concealed beneath a tattered flag lay a young officer whose breast was decorated with an order. He was still alive, and, though covered with many wounds, as we stopped by him he managed to raise himself so as to rest on his elbow. But his handsome face was overcast with the livid hue of death. He recognised the Emperor, and, in a feeble, faltering voice, exclaimed: ‘God bless your Majesty! Farewell, farewell! Oh, my poor mother!’ He turned a look of supplication towards the Emperor, and with that, with the words on his lips, ‘To my country, to dear France—my last thoughts!’ he fell back dead.
“Napoleon seemed riveted to the spot. ‘Brave men!’ he exclaimed. ‘Brave Auzoni! Noble young fellow! Ah, this is a frightful scene! The annuity shall go to his mother: let the order be presented for my signature as soon as possible!’ Then, turning to Surgeon Ivan, who accompanied him, he said: ‘Examine poor Auzoni’s wounds and see what can be done for him!’ Nothing however, could be done: the brave youth was beyond medical aid.”