Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia

by L. Mühlbach

A cry of dismay resounded in the camp of the Prussians and Russians—of exultation in that of the French. Another battle had been fought, and Napoleon had won a brilliant victory. On the 14th of June, 1807, a decisive action had taken place between the French and the united army—the battle of Friedland had gained Napoleon a new laurel-wreath, and brought an overwhelming defeat upon unhappy Prussia. The Russians, enraged at the loss of the battle, furiously denounced Prussia, for the sake of which Russia had been involved in this war; they asked the Emperor Alexander to put an end to the disastrous and self-sacrificing war by making peace with France.

The same measure was urged by the adherents of the French party in the camp and in the suite of King Frederick William. They asserted that only unconditional submission, however humiliating it might be, could save what was still to be saved; that the king ought to throw himself at the feet of the victor of Friedland and implore him to restore his crown. Such was the advice of the discouraged and despairing—of those who always had regarded the war against France as a fatal mistake, and who now, amidst the general consternation, were overjoyed that their predictions had been fulfilled.

"Peace! peace with France!" was the cry resounding in the ears of the Emperor Alexander and of King Frederick William. Alexander promised that he would comply with the request. Frederick William listened to it in sullen silence. The queen, who had remained at Memel, and was no longer with her husband, veiled her head and wept.

But Napoleon triumphantly thanked his army for this new and decisive victory.

"Soldiers," he said, "we are victorious. On the 5th of June we were attacked in our cantonments by the Russian army. The enemy had mistaken our inactivity. He perceived too late that our repose was that of the lion: he repents of having disturbed it. In the battles of Guttstadt and Heilsberg, and in that ever-memorable one of Friedland, in a campaign of ten days, we have taken one hundred and twenty pieces of cannon, and seven colors. The killed, wounded, or made prisoners, are sixty thousand Russians. We have taken all the magazines, hospitals, ambulances, the fortress of Königsberg, the three hundred vessels which were in that port, laden with military stores, and one hundred and sixty thousand muskets, which England had sent to arm our enemies.

"From the Vistula to the Niemen we have come with the flight of the eagle. You celebrated at Austerlitz the anniversary of the coronation; this year, you celebrate that of the battle of Marengo, which put an end to the war of the second coalition.

"Frenchmen, you have been worthy of yourselves and of me. You will return to France crowned with laurels, and, after obtaining a glorious peace, which carries with it the guaranty of its duration, it is high time for our country to repose, protected from the malignant influence of England. My bounties shall prove to you my gratitude, and the extent of the love I feel for you."

Napoleon thus promised peace to his army, while thanking it for the new victory. And he had a right to do so, for peace and its conditions were now in his grasp. Alexander and Frederick William felt this, and hence they were under the necessity of making advances to the conqueror; they were obliged to sacrifice their pride and to conciliate their powerful enemy. Frederick William was still hesitating. The tears of his wife, the prayers and remonstrances of Hardenberg restrained him; he was unwilling to listen to the urgent appeals of Generals von Köckeritz and Zastrow, and of Field-Marshal von Kalkreuth, who, now that Dantzic had fallen, believed unconditional submission to be the only means of safety.

Alexander determined first on taking a decisive step. On the 24th of June he sent Prince Labanoff to the victor of Friedland, and expressed his desire for an interview with him. Napoleon complied with this request, and sent Grand-Marshal Duroc to the Emperor Alexander to inform him that he would meet him on the following day, the 25th of June, at noon. But the two emperors did not wish to see each other on a soil red with the blood of their soldiers, nor were the peace negotiations to be held on a territory hostile to the Emperor of the French. A river, whose waves buried in their depths the reminiscences of the past, was to be the neutral place of their meeting.

It was a clear midsummer-day; the earth was clad in the freshest verdure; not a cloud floated in the sky; not a breath of wind stirred the air, or ruffled the limpid waters of the Niemen. The river was silent, as though it was conscious of its importance, and felt that a great historical event was to take place on its tranquil surface. A large raft was moored by General Lariboissière, of the artillery, equidistant from and within sight of both banks. A pavilion was constructed with all the rich stuffs to be procured in the little town of Tilsit, for the reception of the two monarchs. This gorgeous pavilion seemed a palace descended from some fairy realm, and thousands of spectators gazed at it in surprise.