Napoleon stayed in Berlin for four weeks, while the marshals were leading the Eagles through Eastern Prussia towards the Polish frontier. Russia had taken up the cause of her defeated neighbour, and the armies of the Czar were on the move to rescue what was left of the Prussian army. Less than 15,000 men were all that remained in the field to show fight, of 200,000 soldiers who, not two months before, had been on the march against France in full anticipation of victory.
In the Royal Palace of Berlin Napoleon received with elaborate ceremony the deputation of the French Senate sent from Paris specially to congratulate the victor of Jena in the enemy’s capital. He took advantage of the unique occasion for the formal presentation and handing over to their charge, for conveyance to Paris, of the trophies of the war—340 Prussian battle-flags and standards.[15] Forty of the trophies presented to the Senate on that day at Berlin are now among the array of trophies grouped round Napoleon’s tomb in the Invalides.
Napoleon handed over to the charge of the deputation at the same time, for transfer to the Invalides, his own personal spoil—the sword of Frederick the Great. It was removed—all the world knows the story of the unpardonable outrage—by Napoleon’s own hand from its resting-place on the royal tomb at Potsdam. “I would rather have this,” he said to the officers beside him in the royal vault as he took possession of the sword, “than twenty millions. I shall send it to my old soldiers who fought against Frederick in the campaign in Hanover. I will present it to the Governor of the Invalides, who will guard it as a testimonial of the victories of the Grand Army and the vengeance that it has wreaked for the disaster of Rosbach. My veterans will be pleased to see the sword of the man who defeated them at Rosbach!”
FREDERICK THE GREAT’S SWORD
The trophies started for France forthwith under military escort, and Paris went mad with exultation at the sight of them. On the day of the State Procession which escorted the trophies from the Tuileries to the Invalides it proved almost impossible to keep back the enormous crowds that thronged the streets along the route, in spite of cordons of gendarmerie and regiments of dragoons. Deputations of veterans and National Guards, with the Eagles of the Departmental Legions, led the way. Then came Imperial carriages with exalted official personages. The trophies had their place next, displayed in clusters of flags all round a gigantic triumphal car. Marshal Moncey, the acting Governor of Paris, rode a few paces behind the car of Prussian standards, holding up the trophy of trophies before the eyes of the wildly cheering onlookers—Frederick the Great’s sword. A gaily attired train of generals and staff officers attended the marshal. The rear of the procession was brought up by the battalions of the Guard of Paris, their Eagles being borne amid rows of gleaming bayonets. Salvos of artillery from the Triumphal Battery greeted the arrival of the trophies at the Invalides, where the veterans awaited them, drawn up on parade before the Gate of Honour. As Napoleon had specially directed, the Hanoverian War veterans of the Invalides met and escorted Marshal Moncey to the chapel at the head of other specially nominated veterans, who bore, marching in procession, the Prussian trophy-standards. The trophies were deposited with an elaborate display of ceremonial in front of the High Altar, after which Fontanes, the Public Orator of the Empire, delivered an address full of glowingly eloquent passages on the glorious achievements of the Grand Army and the “resplendent magnificence of the leader who had led the Eagles to surpassing triumphs!”
The Twelve Lost Eagles of Eylau
Napoleon passed from the victorious fields of Prussia to the rough experiences of the Eylau and Friedland campaigns, which followed as the sequel to Jena on the plains of the Polish frontier. The Eagles there had to undergo under fire vicissitudes of fortune that were a foretaste of the fate in store for some of them later on, at the hands of the same enemy, in the Moscow campaign. No fewer than fourteen of the Eagles borne in triumph through Berlin after Jena were on view within a twelvemonth as spoils of war in the Kazan Cathedral at St. Petersburg.
The Eagle of Marshal Ney’s favourite regiment in the battle-days of the Ulm campaign, the 9th Light Infantry, was the first to meet adventures in the Polish War. It was on the occasion of the surprise of Bernadotte’s army corps, at Möhringen near the Vistula, in the last week of January 1807. The Grand Army was lying in winter quarters to the north of Warsaw, awaiting the reopening of the campaign in the early spring, when the Russian army, breaking up unexpectedly from its cantonments beyond the Vistula in the depth of winter, made a dash at Bernadotte’s outlying troops, posted by themselves at some distance from the main army and scattered in detachments over a wide tract of country for reasons of food-supply. Bernadotte only got news of the enemy’s approach just in time; practically at the eleventh hour. He was rapidly concentrating his corps at Möhringen, but barely half his troops had been able to reach the point of danger when the Russians struck their blow. He was able with the troops nearest at hand to avert destruction, but the escape was a narrow one and his losses were very heavy, all his baggage falling into the hands of the enemy. Fortunately for the French the Russian advanced guard attacked prematurely and was beaten back, after which Bernadotte made good his retreat to a safer neighbourhood.
FOUR TIMES TAKEN AND RETAKEN
The 9th Light Infantry were in the forefront of the fighting, which was at the closest quarters, the soldiers on both sides meeting man to man. Four Eagle-bearers of the 9th fell, one after the other. Four times the Eagle was taken by the Russians and recaptured at the point of the bayonet. A fifth time the Eagle-bearer went down, and on his fall this time the Eagle disappeared, while the 9th were driven back, broken and in disorder. They were quickly rallied again, however, and led once more to the charge, “going forward to the combat with the fury of despair.” This time their impetuous onset forced the Russians to give ground. Advancing with shouts of victory, they stormed the village of Psarrefelden, immediately in front of them, and there seized part of a Russian ammunition train. While searching for fresh cartridges in one of the enemy’s ammunition wagons to replenish their empty cartouche-boxes an officer, to his surprise, came upon the lost Eagle. It had been broken from its staff in the last fight round it, and its Russian captor, probably having enough to do to look after himself without carrying it about, had apparently thrust it hastily into the ammunition wagon on top of the cartridges. At any rate there the Eagle of the 9th Light Infantry was found, and so it was regained. The broken staff and flag were missing and were never seen again, but the all-important Eagle had been recovered. It was hurriedly mounted on a hop-pole, found leaning against a peasant’s hut near by, which was improvised for a staff, and on that the Eagle was carried to the close of the fighting that day, after which the 9th retreated with the rest of Bernadotte’s corps.