“The music soothed him quickly; toward the end of the concert his gracious smile returned, and he addressed pleasant words to the ladies he liked best, before sitting down to his whist table.
“Excepting foreign ministers, and some of the high functionaries at play, all stood while Napoleon sat. This did not displease Prince Murat, who lost no opportunity to pose and to strike attitudes which he judged appropriate to show off the beauty of his figure. But little Prince Borghese was enraged and still had not the courage to sit down.”
But the Emperor’s amusements did not confine themselves to such things as whist and quadrilles alone. A certain Madame Walewski, “exquisitely pretty,” “her laugh fresh, her eyes soft, her face seductive,” caught the attention of the imperial visitor. “Married at sixteen to an octogenarian who never appeared in public, Madame Walewski’s position in society was that of a young widow.” She was “lovely and dull,” tempting and not unyielding. Talleyrand’s diplomacy is said to have done some very humble work as go-between, and the Madame was soon known to be the Emperor’s favorite.
Josephine, hearing vague rumors of high-doings at the Polish capital, generously offered to brave the rigors of travel and season to join her absent spouse. In the gentlest manner in the world he insisted that she stay where she was.
The gay time at Warsaw ended abruptly. Ney having made a dash at the Russians, without orders, Bennigsen roused himself to general action, and Napoleon went forth to one of the bloodiest battles in history—Eylau, February 8, 1807. Fought in a blinding snowstorm, the losses on both sides were frightful. So doubtfully hung the result that the Emperor himself escaped capture because he was concealed from view in the old churchyard. Augereau’s corps, caught in the snow-drift, blinded by wind-driven sleet, and exposed point blank to deadly Russian fire, was annihilated. Only a desperate cavalry charge, led in person by Murat, checked the Russian advance. When darkness fell, the French were about to retreat when Davoust, laying ear to ground, heard the retiring rumble of Russian guns. So the French held their position and claimed the victory. The Russians, in retreat, also claimed it.
On each side rose hymns and prayers of thanks and praise to God: Russians grateful that they had won; French rejoicing that they had prevailed. Bennigsen continued to retire; Napoleon went back into winter-quarters; and the only distinct and undisputed result of the battle was that some twenty-five thousand men lay dead under the snow.
Napoleon did not return to Warsaw, but made his headquarters at Osterode, where he shared all the discomforts of his soldiers while doing more work than any hundred men in the army. In spite of the dreadful weather and boggy roads, he was constantly on horseback, going at full speed from one outpost to another. Frequently he rode ninety miles during the day. With his own eyes he inspected the military situation down to the smallest details, untiring in his efforts to have his men well placed, well clothed, well fed. The sick and the wounded were indeed “his children.” He spared no efforts in their behalf, and this was one of the secrets of the cheerfulness with which his soldiers made such sacrifices for him. Sometimes in the march when the weary legions were weltering through the mud, drenched with rain or pelted by sleet, or blinded by snow, hungry and homesick, murmurs would be heard in the ranks, complaints would even be thrown at the Emperor as he passed. But when the enemy was in sight, murmurs ceased. “Live the Emperor!” was all the cry. They shouted it wherever they caught a glimpse of him on the field; they shouted it as they rushed to battle; and after the fight was over those who came forth unharmed, and those who were mangled, and those who were about to die—all shouted, “Live the Emperor!” Nothing like the devotion of the French soldier to Napoleon had ever been known before, and not till another Napoleon comes will be seen again.
The care of his army by no means filled all of the Emperor’s time: he ruled France from Poland, just as though he were at St. Cloud. Couriers brought and carried ministerial portfolios, brought and carried official reports and orders. Every detail of government passed under the eye of the master, all initiative rested with him.
Madame Walewski was brought secretly to headquarters, an indulgence Napoleon had never allowed himself before. While at Finckenstein, he received envoys from Persia and Turkey, and gravely discussed plans for an invasion of India.
In June the Russians again took the offensive. Their commander-in-chief, Bennigsen, one of the murderers of the Czar Paul, had shown great courage and ability. At Pultusk he had beaten Lannes and Davoust; at Eylau he had fought the Emperor to a standstill, and had carried away from that field twelve of the French eagles.