I never let slip an opportunity of mitigating the rigour of Fouché's orders, which, indeed, were sometimes so absurd that I did not attempt to execute them. Of this an instance occurs to my recollection. A printer at Hamburg had been arrested on the charge of having printed a libel in the German language. The man was detained in prison because, very much to his honour, he would not disclose the name of the writer of the pamphlet. I sent for him and questioned him. He told me, with every appearance of sincerity, that he had never but once seen the man who had brought him the manuscript. I was convinced of the truth of what he said, and I gave an order for his liberation. To avoid irritating the susceptibility of the Minister of Police I wrote to him the following few lines:—"The libel is the most miserable rhapsody imaginable. The author, probably with the view of selling his pamphlet in Holstein, predicts that Denmark will conquer every other nation and become the greatest kingdom in the world. This alone will suffice to prove to you how little clanger there is in rubbish written in the style of the Apocalypse."
After the battle of Eylau I received a despatch from M. de Talleyrand, to which was added an account in French of that memorable battle, which was more fatal to the conqueror than to the other party,—I cannot say the conquered in speaking of the Russians, the more especially when I recollect the precautions which were then taken throughout Germany to make known the French before the Russian version. The Emperor was exceedingly anxious that every one should view that event as he himself viewed it. Other accounts than his might have produced an unfavourable impression in the north. I therefore had orders to publish that account. I caused 2000 copies of it to be issued, which were more than sufficient for circulation in the Hanse Towns and their territories.
The reader will perhaps complain that I have been almost silent with respect to the grand manoeuvres of the French army from the battle of Eylau to that of Friedland, where, at all events, our success was indisputable. There was no necessity for printing favourable versions of that event, and, besides, its immense results were soon felt throughout Europe. The interview at Tilsit is one of the culminating points of modern history, and the waters of the Niemen reflected the image of Napoleon at the height of his glory. The interview between the two Emperors at Tilsit, and the melancholy situation of the King of Prussia, are generally known. I was made acquainted with but few secret details relative to those events, for Rapp had gone to Dantzic, and it was he who most readily communicated to me all that the Emperor said and did, and all that was passing around him.—
—[Savory gives the following account of the interview between
Napoleon and Alexander at Tilsit.
"The Emperor Napoleon, whose courtesy was manifest in all his
actions, ordered a large raft to be floated in the middle of the
river, upon which was constructed a room well covered in and
elegantly decorated having two doors on opposite aides, each of
which opened into an antechamber. The work could not have been
better executed in Paris. The roof was surmounted by two
weathercocks: one displaying the eagle of Russia, and the other the
eagle of France. The two outer doors were also surmounted by the
eagles of the two countries.
"The raft was precisely in the middle of the river, with the two
doors of the salon facing the two opposite banks.
"The two sovereigns appeared on the banks of the river, and embarked
at the same moment But the Emperor Napoleon having a good boat,
manned by marines of the Guard, arrived first on the raft, entered
the room, and went to the opposite door, which he opened, and then
stationed himself on the edge of the raft to receive the Emperor
Alexander, who had not yet arrived, not having each good rowers as
the Emperor Napoleon.
"The two Emperors met in the most amicable way, et least to all
appearance. They remained together for a considerable time, and
then took leave of each other with as friendly an air as that with
which they had met.
"Next day the Emperor of Russia established himself at Tilsit with a
battalion of his Guard. Orders were given for evacuating that part
of the town where he and his battalion were to be quartered; and,
though we were very much pressed for room, no encroachment on the
space allotted to the Russians was thought of.
"On the day the Emperor Alexander, entered Tilsit the whole army was
under arms. The Imperial Guard was drawn out in two lines of three
deep from the landing-place to the Emperor Napoleon's quarters, and
from thence to the quarters of the Emperor of Russia. A salute of
100 guns was fired the moment Alexander stepped ashore on the spot
where the Emperor Napoleon was waiting to receive him. The latter
carried his attention to his visitor so far as to send from his
quarters the furniture for Alexander's bedchamber. Among the
articles sent was a camp-bed belonging to the Emperor, which he
presented to Alexander, who appeared much pleased with the gift.
"This meeting; the first which history records of the same kind and
of equal importance, attracted visitors to Tilsit from 100 leagues
round. M. de Talleyrand arrived, and after the observance of the
usual ceremonies business began to be discussed." (Memoirs of the
Duc de Rovigo, tome iii. p. 117).
"When," said Napoleon, "I was at Tilsit with the Emperor Alexander
and the King of Prussia, I was the most ignorant of the three in
military affairs. These two sovereigns, especially the King of
Prussia, were completely 'au fait' as to the number of buttons there
ought to be in front of a jacket, how many behind, and the manner in
which the skirts ought to be cut. Not a tailor in the army knew
better than King Frederick how many measures of cloth it took to
make a jacket. In fact," continued he laughing, "I was nobody in
comparison with them. They continually tormented me about matters
belonging to tailors, of which I was entirely ignorant, although, in
order not to affront them, I answered just as gravely as if the fate
of an army depended upon the cut of a jacket. When I went to see
the King of Prussia, instead of a library, I found that he had a
large room, like an arsenal, furnished with shelves and pegs; on
which were hung fifty or sixty jackets of different patterns. Every
day he changed his fashion and put on a different one. He attached
more importance to this than was necessary for the salvation of a
kingdom." (O'Meara's Napoleon in Exile.)]—
I, however, learned one circumstance peculiarly worthy of remark which occurred in the Emperor's apartments at Tilsit the first time he received a visit from the King of Prussia. That unfortunate monarch, who was accompanied by Queen Louisa, had taken refuge in a mill beyond the town. This was his sole habitation, whilst the Emperors occupied the two portions of the town, which is divided by the Niemen. The fact I am about to relate reached me indirectly through the medium of an offices of the Imperial Guard, who was on duty in Napoleon's apartments and was an eye-witness of it. When the Emperor Alexander visited Napoleon they continued for a long time in conversation on a balcony below, where as immense crowd hailed their meeting with enthusiastic shouts. Napoleon commenced the conversation, as he did the year preceding with the Emperor of Austria, by speaking of the uncertain fate of war. Whilst they were conversing the King of Prussia was announced. The King's emotion was visible, and may easily be imagined; for as hostilities were suspended, and his territory in possession of the French, his only hope was in the generosity of the conqueror. Napoleon himself, it is said, appeared moved by his situation, and invited him, together with the Queen, to dinner. On sitting down to table Napoleon with great gallantry told the beautiful Queen that he would restore to her Silesia, a province which she earnestly wished should be retained in the new arrangements which were necessarily about to take place.
—[Las Cases mentions that at the time of the treaty of Tilsit
Napoleon wrote to the Empress Josephine as follows:
"'The Queen of Prussia is really a charming woman. She is fond of
coquetting with me; but do not be jealous: I am like oilcloth, along
which everything of this sort elides without penetrating. It would
cost me too dear to play the gallant'
"On this subject an anecdote was related in the salon of Josephine.
It was said that the Queen of Prussia one day had a beautiful rose
in her hand, which the Emperor asked her to give him. The Queen
hesitated for a few moments, and then presented it to him, saying,
'Why should I so readily grant what you request, while you remain
deaf to all my entreaties?' (She alluded to the fortress of
Magdeburg, which she had earnestly solicited)." (Memorial de St.
Helene).]—
The treaty of peace concluded at Tilsit between France and Russia, on the 7th of July, and ratified two days after, produced no less striking a change in the geographical division of Europe than had been effected the year preceding by the Treaty of Presburg. The treaty contained no stipulation dishonourable to Russia, whose territory was preserved inviolate; but how was Prussia treated? Some historians, for the vain pleasure of flattering by posthumous praises the pretended moderation of Napoleon, have almost reproached him for having suffered some remnants of the monarchy of the great Frederick to survive. There is, nevertheless, a point on which Napoleon has been wrongfully condemned, at least with reference to the campaign of 1807. It has been said that he should at that period have re-established the kingdom of Poland; and certainly there is every reason to regret, for the interests of France and Europe, that it was not re-established. But when a desire, even founded on reason, is not carried into effect, should we conclude that the wished-for object ought to be achieved in defiance of all obstacles? At that time, that is to say, during the campaign of Tilsit, insurmountable obstacles existed.
If, however, by the Treaty of Tilsit, the throne of Poland was not restored to serve as a barrier between old Europe and the Empire of the Czars, Napoleon founded a Kingdom of Westphalia, which he gave to the young 'ensigne de vaisseau' whom he had scolded as a schoolboy, and whom he now made a King, that he might have another crowned prefect under his control. The Kingdom of Westphalia was composed of the States of Hesse-Cassel, of a part of the provinces taken from Prussia by the moderation of the Emperor, and of the States of Paderborn, Fulda, Brunswick, and a part of the Electorate of Hanover. Napoleon, at the same time, though he did not like to do things by halves, to avoid touching the Russian and Austrian provinces of old Poland, planted on the banks of the Vistula the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, which he gave to the King of Saxony, with the intention of increasing or destroying it afterwards as he might find convenient. Thus he allowed the Poles to hope better things for the future, and ensured to himself partisans in the north should the chances of fortune call him thither. Alexander, who was cajoled even more than his father had been by what I may call the political coquetry of Napoleon, consented to all these arrangements, acknowledged 'in globo' all the kings crowned by the Emperor, and accepted some provinces which had belonged to his despoiled ally, the King of Prussia, doubtless by way of consolation for not having been able to get more restored to Prussia. The two Emperors parted the best friends in the world; but the Continental system was still in existence.