We exchanged new-year visits in the mud of Pultusk, and the Emperor returned for a short time to Warsaw, whither we followed as his suite on January 2, 1809. The ninety cannon we had taken had arrived before us, carriages and all.

A few days later the Emperor was ready to resume the campaign, and sent me to demand from the King of Saxony the troops he had promised. That venerable monarch, and his consort, the sister of the Queen of Bavaria, received me with many demonstrations of respect and expressions of devotion to the Emperor. The King placed all the luxuries of his palace at my disposal. Never since my childhood had I ridden in a sedan chair, and I thoroughly enjoyed being carried about by men in grand liveries in the fine structures assigned to me by the Grand Marshal for my various excursions in Dresden. The Picture Gallery and the Treasury were both thrown open to me, and in the latter I was specially struck, amongst the quantities of remarkable objects, with the many huge pearls, and the number of diamonds, including a green one. I greatly admired the pictures in the world-famous collection, notably the ‘Notte' of Correggio, considered his masterpiece; the ‘Madonna di San Sisto,’ most admired of Raphael's virgins; Gerard Douw's ‘Woman with Dropsy;’ and the ‘Cemetery’ by Ruysdael, &c.

In a very short time the troops were collected, and I started at the head of the first column. The rain had swollen many of the streams, and inundations compelled us to halt at Görlitz at the same time as a French battalion following our route. The wine shops of the town were soon full of the soldiers of the two nations fraternising glass in hand.

I left the Saxons en route, and rejoined the Emperor, who had just left Warsaw to open the campaign of 1807. The thaw on the Vistula had broken down the bridges, and only a golden bribe would induce a boatman to trust himself and his frail craft amongst the floating ice to take me to the other side of the river. In spite of my every effort to press on, I did not reach the Emperor till February 8, the Sunday before Lent.

On the day before, the Augereau, Davout, and Ney divisions, with Murat's cavalry and the Imperial Guard, had bivouacked opposite and round about Eylau on ground covered with snow.

On the 8th, before six o'clock in the morning, the Russians took the initiative by attacking us all along our line. Several of our battalions were surprised and fled in disorder through Eylau, under the impression that they were pursued. This panic was, however, soon allayed, order was restored, and the battle which had begun on the frozen ponds outside Eylau became general. Several times during the day snow fell for an hour at a time in such quantities that we could not see two paces before us, and bodies of troops in movement lost their bearings. Now and then the cavalry crossed the enemy's lines, and did considerable mischief amongst their ranks; but, on the other hand, the Russian horsemen performed prodigies of valour, and the battle field was soon covered with the dead, 300 cannon on either side pouring out a hail of grape shot at close quarters and working terrible havoc. Marshal Augereau was wounded, and his corps, left without a leader, suffered horribly; his infantry, drawn up in squares, was positively annihilated where it stood.

The squadrons of the Emperor's Guard twice dashed through the Russian army, disabling more than 20,000 men, and sabring the artillerymen at their posts. They would have assured victory to the French if the falling of the snow had not prevented us from seeing clearly and co-operating properly. The struggle had lasted for twelve hours, and the issue was still uncertain when, as night fell, Marshal Davout succeeded in outflanking the enemy on the right at Schmoditten, whilst Marshal Ney did the same on the left at Altdorf.

The enemy defended these two positions with desperation until eight o'clock in the evening, and at last managed to retreat during the night under cover of the darkness, leaving 7,000 dead upon the field, whilst every road was encumbered with thousands of wounded. This eight days' struggle cost the Russians 15,000 men in killed and wounded, 15,000 prisoners, thirty flags, and forty-five pieces of artillery.

We passed the night on the snow, wishing impatiently for the return of daylight, which, when it came, revealed to us a terrible sight, the gloom of which was intensified by the low-lying threatening clouds, heavy with snow ready to fall. Every detail of the struggle, the position of the lines, the squares with the places where the cavalry had charged, were clearly marked upon the ground by heaps of corpses. Many wounded, too numerous for help to be given them at once, had crept close to each other for the sake of warmth, whilst here and there horses wounded to death were dragging their entrails over the snow, piteously neighing to us or to their late riders for help in their suffering. I saw one of these poor creatures with but three legs licking the face of his owner, who was standing gazing at his injured steed with an expression of the greatest consternation. He had but a morsel of bread for himself, but he gave it to his horse. The Emperor was as grieved as we were at the frightful sufferings he could do so little to relieve. He gave up several days to doing what was possible, and one day he paused near a group of wounded Russians, whilst his surgeon Yvan dressed their wounds. The Russians, guessing from the respect with which he was treated that he was the Czar of the French, invoked blessings on his head, kissing his foot and stirrups. His whole time was given up now to seeing that the wounded received proper care, and he insisted on the Russians being as well treated as the French.
After the battle of Eylau, the Russian army retreated towards Königsberg, and took up a position beyond some narrow but deep and muddy streams, which we could not have crossed but for our portable artillery bridges. Our outposts were stationed on the banks of the streams.

It was now necessary for the French army to rally its scattered forces and to replace men lost in the murderous struggle. Moreover, the Emperor had left behind him three fortresses which it was necessary for him to take lest they should harass his rear when he should attempt to drive the Russians beyond the Niemen. These fortresses were Stralsund in Swedish Pomerania, defended by a Swedish army held in check by Marshal Mortier; Colberg on the Baltic, defended by the Prussians and besieged by General Loisin; and lastly, Danzig, one of the largest fortified towns of Germany, at the mouth of the Vistula, containing a numerous garrison, which might greatly interfere with our operations. There was no doubt that these three towns had to be taken, and, as an officer of engineers, I was commissioned to go to and fro, urging on the besiegers, and bringing them the Emperor's orders.

In due course I found myself with Marshal Mortier outside Stralsund, within the walls of which he had driven the Swedes, where, in spite of all the efforts of King Gustavus Adolphus, they were completely blockaded, and compelled to take refuge in the island of Rügen, divided from the mainland by the narrow sound on which the town is built. Gustavus Adolphus, thinking that he could emulate the exploits of King Charles XII. as easily as he could don the uniform of a soldier, was in reality quite unable to cope with the situation. His weakness of character had alienated his subjects, and was as much the cause of his defeat as was the success of the French arms. He remembered that Charles XII. had passed a night on watch at the gates of Stralsund, so he too spent one as a sentinel on the same spot. A little later he hoped to cut Marshal Mortier off from the main body of his army, and he embarked his Swedes for that purpose near Passvalk, but he was defeated and lost all his men.

When I returned from Stralsund, I found the Emperor at Osterode, where he was receiving the Turkish ambassadors from the Sultan and General von Kleist, aide-de-camp of the King of Prussia, who had brought proposals of peace which were perfectly inadmissible. The Emperor instructed me to escort the Prussian envoy as far as our outposts. This led to one of the most comic episodes of my military career. The General was doubtless a brave man enough as a rule, but he was the most arrant coward in a carriage I ever had the good fortune to meet. I gave him a guard of honour to accompany his carriage and sat beside him myself. We started at night and had to traverse some twenty or thirty miles of very bad road in the woods. As we bumped over the roots of trees and in and out of ruts we were a good deal shaken about, and every time the brave General lost his equilibrium he clutched hold of me, screaming, ‘We are lost! we are lost!' His anxiety manifested itself in the most extraordinary manner. He insisted on the carriage being carried by peasants, and I told off a dozen, who bore lighted torches in one hand whilst they held up the carriage with the other, with the aid of ropes fastened on either side, so that there was no further danger of our being tumbled into the mud. We were kept in position like the masts of a vessel, or like banners carried in procession and kept steady in the wind by long ribbons. The gay young officers forming our escort laughed so much at the absurd arrangement and at the terror of our guest, that I was obliged to dismiss them at daylight lest I should not be able to enforce proper respect for the envoy. He fully appreciated my care and courtesy, and rewarded me later by protecting me in a far more serious danger than that of being upset in the mud.

There was a neutral space of about seven or eight leagues in extent between the outposts of the two armies, and I did not choose to leave the General till he was safe with his own people, so I went with him to the gates of Ortelsburg, where a body of Cossacks advanced towards us, lances in rest, shouting, ‘Honi?’ (Who goes there? Who are you?) To which General von Kleist answered, ‘Zoni’ (friends). But the Cossacks as they approached our open carriage recognised my French uniform before anything else, and in a moment, with faces full of rage and hatred, they aimed some twenty lances at my breast, whilst Von Kleist, whose life was in danger as well as mine, only with the greatest difficulty managed to make the Cossacks understand that he was an envoy returning without drum or trumpet to announce him, and that I was his escort. The men, full of suspicion of us, took us both prisoners pending the decision of the King of Prussia in our case, and I was shut up at Ortelsburg for three days. The General, however, who was quickly recognised by the Cossack officers in the town, refused to leave me lest some harm should befall me, and during the time of my detention all the Cossacks belonging to the division occupying the place came to stare at us as if we were lions in a menagerie, crowding into our room and spending whole nights in the snow in the streets outside, though there were twenty-eight degrees of frost, sleeping with the bridles of their little steeds called konias on their arms, as peacefully as we could have done in the most comfortable of beds. These Cossacks were many of them handsome fellows, and much to their amusement I took portraits of several with a pencil on a bit of paper. On the third day the Emperor of Russia sent his aide-de-camp, Colonel Prince Sokoreff, to release me from my tedious imprisonment, and to escort me on my way to the outposts. I took leave of General von Kleist, but met him again at Berlin a few years later when he was commander-in-chief of one of the big Prussian armies.

On my return to Osterode, the Emperor listened with interest to my account of my adventures, especially to what I told him about the Cossacks who could hit an enemy with their lances at a distance of more than four yards. He asked me what I thought of introducing their weapon into the French army, and when I replied that I thought it would be a good thing to do so, he told me to design a suitable costume for a corps of French lancers.

Marshal Murat coming in during this conversation, the Emperor said to him: ‘You are to equip a hundred men in the costume Lejeune will design, and at once instruct them how to use the lance.’ Murat approved of the rough sketch I made; he chose the colours, and formed the hundred men into the guard of the Grand Duchy of Berg. The Emperor was much pleased with the result, and later he introduced whole regiments of lancers into his own guard and the army, retaining the uniform I had designed.

Soon after this I was sent to Marshal Brune, whose corps, with that of Marshal Mortier besieging Stralsund, was engaged in the manœuvres against the Swedes. Marshal Brune, after several successes, had granted an armistice of ten days. The King of Sweden availed himself of this to ask for an interview; and the Marshal having done me the honour to consult me, I said it would be a capital thing if we could break off the alliance which the Swedes had formed with the Prussians and Russians. The Marshal then agreed to the proposed rendezvous, and he took me with him in his carriage to the Bridge of Auklam, spanning the river which formed the boundary.

We were very much surprised to find no outposts on the bridge; still, we ventured to cross it with our escort and push on to meet the Swedes. After traversing some four leagues without meeting a creature we reached the large village of Schlatkow, all the doors in which were closed, whilst the streets were absolutely deserted. Very much put out at this state of things, we had just told our coachman to turn back, when the gates of a big hostelry were suddenly flung back by some Swedish officers, who ordered our carriages to enter a yard in which a bodyguard of cavalry was drawn up in order of battle. The gates were at once shut, and we found ourselves separated from our escort. We were very much astonished, for it seemed as if we had fallen into an ambush. We alighted from our carriage, however, and were escorted to a room where the aides-de-camp of the King received the Marshal with every demonstration of respect.

The King, though notice of our arrival was at once given to him, kept us waiting a long time, and our annoyance was no doubt reflected in our faces, for a dead silence succeeded the interchange of compliments.

At last the King sent to ask the Marshal to go to him alone in a private room, and one of the royal bodyguard took up his station at the door. Presently we heard a very animated, almost an angry, conversation going on within. The party waiting outside consisted of Colonel Mathis, Colonel Saint-Raymond, and myself, all three strong determined French officers; three Swedish aides-de-camp, and a French gentleman wearing the Cross of St. Louis and the gold-laced uniform of a lieutenant-general of the old French army. It was the Duke of Vienne, an emigrant serving in the ranks of our enemies, and he looked at us with anything but a pleasant expression. The situation became more and more strained, and, convinced that we should have to sell our lives as dearly as we could, I had just whispered to my comrades, Colonels Mathis and Saint-Raymond, ‘I'll deal with the King and the sentinel––you see to the others,’ and we were standing on the qui-vive at our posts, sword in hand, when the Marshal came out pale, grave, and disguising the anger he felt. I was near the door, and I got a glimpse of the King standing up wearing a caricature of the costume of Charles XII. and gazing at us.
The Marshal, fearing that I meant to go into the room, took my hand and said, ‘Let us be off!’ The carriages were waiting; we got in; the guards, still under arms, opened the big gates, and we started, followed by our escort.

Alone in the carriage with the Marshal, he told me what had passed that I might tell the Emperor. Gustavus, though he had been beaten ten times in succession by the Marshal, had actually proposed to him that he should desert to the enemy with his army, and, joining the allies, aid in placing Louis XVIII. upon the French throne. ‘The legitimate king of your country,’ he had said, ‘will make you Generalissimo of his army and that of the allies, and will place under your orders the troops which the Duke of Vienne, who is now with me, can dispose of!’ These troops were three or four old emigrants, who had not so much as a sword amongst them. This speech was moreover interlarded with curses of the Emperor Napoleon. Marshal Brune, who felt how imprudent he had been to venture into the Swedish quarters so far from his army, was obliged to disguise his indignation and to listen to the whole of the infamous propositions, to come scatheless out of a situation which his physical strength and our resolute courage could only have made yet more desperate.

Acting on the Marshal's instructions, I now rejoined the Emperor at Finkenstein, where he occupied rather a pretty château near several lakes or big ponds, now half frozen over, amusing himself by hunting the wild swans by which they were frequented.

At Finkenstein the Emperor received the ambassadors from Persia, with Mirza-Riza-Khan at their head, who came to congratulate him on his victories over their enemies the Russians. In the neighbouring forests were great troops of elands, which are bigger than stags and have huge antlers. We spent the few days we had to spare in the chase of these fine creatures, which are very difficult to hunt. We succeeded in bringing down a few. When we got back from our excursions over snow and ice amongst the gloomy pine and fir forests, we warmed ourselves at the stoves of the well-heated conservatories of the château, where strawberries, plums, and cherries were successfully cultivated.
The snow was now beginning to melt, and spring was approaching. Marshal Lefebvre was besieging Danzig, defended by Marshal Kalkreuth with 20,000 Prussians, by whom many sorties were made. The Emperor sent me to Marshal Lefebvre to press on the siege, and I took part in many remarkable episodes. The first was at a sortie of the Prussians by way of Hagelsburg, where they were vigorously repulsed; and the second was the affair of Veichselmunde, where a considerable body of the Russian army attacked us in the hope of compelling us to raise the siege and capturing our artillery. The troops under Marshal Lefebvre drove back the sorties, whilst those under Marshal Lannes and General Oudinot  repulsed the Russians. During the battle I rode a horse lent to me by Marshal Lefebvre, and on my way back to head quarters in the evening a ball from Bischofsberg shattered a rock beneath me, and the fragments killed my horse on the spot. I remained flat on my face on the ground for some time before I could get up. The effects of the shock and the pain of my bruises soon went off; I was not really wounded, and I was able to drag myself to head quarters, where the rejoicings over the victory soon quite restored me. I started the same night to take the good news to the Emperor.

A few days later he sent me back again to urge on the siege of Danzig, which was rendered extremely arduous by the skill with which the defence was conducted by Marshal Kalkreuth.

We had already crowned the covered way, and effected the descent of the ditch, when on May 19 an English sloop of war with twenty-four guns tried to run the blockade and get into the town by way of an arm of the Vistula which winds through the meadows round Danzig. The bold commander of the vessel hoped to break down every obstacle with discharges of grape shot from his cannon. He had actually got within range of the town, having met with no more formidable obstacles than a few simple booms, which were easily broken through. He was not, however, prepared for the sudden attack opened upon him by several companies of our sharpshooters, who rushed across the meadows and fired a volley into the ship from both sides of the stream, mowing down the sailors and bringing the sloop to a standstill. Without helmsmen, and with sails flapping helplessly, the vessel drifted to the side of the stream and grounded; the soldiers sprang on board and took 150 prisoners as well as the valuable cargo of weapons,
ammunition, and provisions which the commander had intended for the use of the garrison of the beleaguered city.

All the best engineer officers of the French army were collected together under General Chasseloup at the siege of Danzig, and the operations were conducted with great rapidity, though not fast enough to please the Emperor, who, at a distance from the scene of action, did not realise that fresh obstacles were thrown in our way every day by the skill of the directors of the defence. My fellow officers were therefore by no means pleased to see a messenger arrive from head quarters with orders to stimulate their zeal, and they revenged themselves on me by making me cross in the open from one parallel to another at all the most dangerous points of the saps. Two of the boldest of my tormentors, named Bodzon and Delange, however, were punished for their useless temerity by being wounded, I meanwhile pretending that I saw nothing unusual in their behaviour.
The descent of the ditch had been effected at the principal point; our sap had reached the enceinte, and Marshal Lefebvre was as impatient as we were to get into the town and to put an end to the tedious operations, which had now been going on for a month, and cost us many lives every day. One day the Marshal, angry at all the delays, took me by the arm and began banging with his fist at the base of a wall, pierced by the sap, shouting in his Alsatian brogue, ‘Make a hole here, and I'll be the first to go through it.’

Meanwhile the walls were falling under our bombardment, and a practicable breach had at last just been made. Troops were ready for the assault, and the decisive blow was to be struck the next morning, May 24, 1807, when Marshal Kalkreuth capitulated. I took the good news to the Emperor.

On June 1 the Emperor went to Danzig to examine its condition, gave orders that the damage done in the siege should be repaired, and that the town should be restored to a state of defence. He then hurried back to Finkenstein, where negotiations for peace had been begun by the Russians. On June 5, when Napoleon hoped to end the campaign by a favourable treaty, the Russians, who had only pretended to want peace with a view to throwing the French off their guard, made a general and unexpected attack all along our lines.

Hostilities being thus renewed by the Russians, our whole army was again led against them, and during eight days they sustained one reverse after another, and were several times compelled to retreat, and pursued on the route to Königsberg and Friedland.

On the 7th I received orders from the Emperor to go and press on the operations at the siege of Colberg.

General Loison, who was conducting the siege, and General Chainbarlier, commandant of the engineers, took me round the trenches, which had been opened ten or twelve days before opposite the fort of Volfsberg, at about half a cannon-shot from the town itself. This fort, which had inflicted a great deal of mischief on us, was so much damaged by our artillery that I could not dissemble my surprise that it had not fallen into our hands several days before.

‘Well, my dear fellow,’ was the reply I got, ‘if you find it so easy, take it yourself.’

I accepted the challenge, and set to work at once. I began by demanding 300 picked men who would be willing to join me, and I had assigned to me 100 French, 100 Italian, and 100 Polish grenadiers, commanded by three brave captains, namely, Beaufort d'Hautpoul and Rohault de Fleury of the engineers, with Bécli of the Italian legion.

Whilst these troops were approaching the trench, I took a drummer, and advancing with him to the fort, I ordered him to beat the rappel. I wanted to reconnoitre and to parley with the enemy. I made my way thus right up to the barrier of the fort, and was able to convince myself that the glacis and the bottom of the ditch were bristling with spikes and military pits in good condition. The commandant did not keep me waiting, but appeared at once, and I advised him to withdraw before the assault of a fort which seemed to me no longer tenable, but the grand defence of which did him honour. He agreed with me that his position was most critical, but added that he could not surrender without orders from the Governor of Colberg. I gave him half an hour to get those orders, and withdrew, employing the interval in giving my instructions to my three columns, telling them exactly what they were to do, but not allowing a single man to show himself beforehand.

At the time named I took my drummer again and went towards the fort. I had not taken twenty steps from our trenches before the cannon opened fire on me, the discharge covering me with dust. The answer was clear enough. I gave the signal for the assault by raising my sword instead of the white handkerchief I had been holding, with the cry of ‘Columns to advance!’

With the rapidity of a flash of lightning my 300 men were over the parapet of the trench and dashing forward in the direction ordered. I did not wait a single instant for them to come up, but made straight for the barrier, getting there just in time to see the garrison running away. I called out to them in German, ‘Right about face!’ and, astonished at the command in their own language, they obeyed. I drew them up in line between myself and the fort, and they never suspected that they had been made to serve as a screen between me and the hail of shot from the bastions.
The next moment the walls and every point of vantage of the fort swarmed with my grenadiers, and I ordered them to shoot down the first Prussian who moved from the spot where I had posted him. I then made my way into the casemates, which the gunners had not been able to leave. The brave fellows received me with a threat to set fire to their powder and blow us all up together. They would no doubt have done so if I had taken the matter seriously; but calling up all my tact and retaining my presence of mind, I answered them gaily, disarmed their anger, and avoided an explosion. They left the casemates, and I made them set fire to the four blinded batteries flanking the fort from right to left, which were completely burnt down. Our engineer officers then set to work to install us in the fort and establish our communications.

As long as I kept the Prussians drawn up in line between us and the town, the town could not fire on us, and the day passed without the exchange of a shot, as if there were an armistice. Several Prussian officers, amongst others the young partisan Schill, who had won some celebrity, came to chat with us, and they assured us that Colberg would never be taken.

Towards evening, when our defensive works were complete and we were well under cover, we felt we no longer needed the presence of our Prussians; and not wishing to encumber myself with prisoners, I set free one by one the men who had saved us much bloodshed by coming between us and several hundred balls.
The last Prussian had scarcely left when the firing from Colberg recommenced, and the very first shot mortally wounded General Teulié, who survived but two days, and killed on the spot two engineer officers who were chatting with him and did not choose to take the precaution of drawing back. This foolhardy ostentation of courage cost France the lives of many gallant warriors, with no result to the country but accustoming their subordinates to despise death and to be ready to face all manner of dangers.

During the night we pushed forward our parallel with its communications in advance of the fort, so as to get within reach of the town, which kept faith with us by making a most vigorous defence. I myself aimed some dozen bombs at a Swedish frigate, the huge balls from which struck us in the rear, destroying our men and our defences. Two of my bombs struck the water so near the vessel that she raised anchor and fled out into the offing. Never was siege trench more vigorously assailed than was ours on that terrible day. General Loison, who had but one arm left, seeing his men falling all around him, flung up his empty sleeve, hoping that it would be carried off instead of the head of some poor artilleryman. We were at such close quarters with the enemy that every shot told on either side.
General Chambarlier advanced to the attack on the opposite side to the fort we had taken, and from that moment our success became more and more assured; whilst at the same time we realised how useful outlying forts are for prolonging the defence and retarding the fall of a stronghold protected by them.

Leaving everything in such good train, I hastened back to the Emperor to tell him of our success, and to take part in the grand struggle for which preparation was being made when I left him. During the interval our army had been gaining ground, and, in spite of all my haste, I did not arrive at Friedland till the evening after the battle, which was just ending after lasting no less than sixteen hours.

On June 13 the Russians, in retreat on the right bank of the Alle, noticed that our light cavalry, in endeavouring to bar their way to Königsberg, where their magazines were situated, had taken possession of Friedland, and Prince Bagration ordered a large body of cavalry to charge our advance guard, routing them and compelling them to retire behind the advancing infantry of General Oudiriot.

This temporary success encouraged the Commander-in-Chief of the Russians, General Bennigsen, to hope for victory, and during the night and the next morning he made his army cross, by way of Friedland, from the right to the left of the Alle, with a view to attacking us. He thus left in his rear the very narrow bridge of Friedland, and a deep river with very steep banks. This position, it was evident at a glance, was a very bad one in which to give battle, and his only excuse was that he greatly underestimated the numbers of the French.

Meanwhile the Emperor had ordered our cavalry under Prince Murat and Marshal Davout to advance upon Königsberg, so as to get there before the Russians, whilst Marshal Soult was marching on Kreuznach, Marshal Lannes on Domnau, Marshals Ney and Mortier on Lampasch, and General Victor and the Imperial Guard on Friedland.

The Emperor was waiting for these various corps to get into position, when he received the news on the morning of June 14 of the offensive movement of the Russians.

He mounted immediately, and galloped rapidly over the eight or ten leagues which separated him from the field of battle, reaching it about noon. Imagining that the Russians had only made an attack to cover the retreat of their rear guard, he was very much surprised to hear a prolonged and vigorous cannonade. In his anxiety he urged on his Arab steed, with which few other horses could keep up, and quickly found himself among a number of wounded, who were retreating towards the ambulances. Amongst them he recognised Colonel Reynaud of the 15th regiment of the line, and stopped to ask him what had happened, if his regiment had retreated, and under what circumstances he had been wounded. Reynaud, who had been struck by a ball, replied that, tired of seeing his regiment inactive under a decimating fire, he had ordered it to advance and charge the enemy's guns in the hope of carrying some of them, but that a trench he had not been able to see had arrested the men, of whom he had lost 1,500 on its brink. He added: ‘On the plateau of Friedland, behind the position I had hoped to take, the enemy has just massed an immense number of men, certainly not less than 80,000.' The Emperor, still in error as to the state of things, thought this account exaggerated, and exclaimed, ‘That is not true!’ to which Reynaud, irritated at being disbelieved, answered, ‘Well, I swear by my head that the numbers I have stated are there, and that there will be hot work.' The Emperor's only reply was
to dash his spurs into his Arab, which bounded furiously forward, carrying its master into the very midst of the sharpshooters.

The united corps of grenadiers under General Oudinot, supported by General Grouchy's dragoons and General Nansouty's cuirassiers, had been engaged since daybreak opposite the village of Posthenen, by way of which the Russians were endeavouring to debauch with a view to a vigorous attack on us. Many charges of cavalry had taken place on the flanks of this village, whilst our infantry had been driven from it five or six times after taking possession of it. From every one of these charges our cuirassiers had brought back many prisoners, but the enemy, still supposing they had but the small body of men they could see to deal with, directed a furious cannonade upon the place, whilst the main body of the French army was rapidly gaining ground in the direction of Königsberg and had advanced nearly a league and a half beyond Friedland.

Such was the state of things when the Emperor arrived on the scene of battle. He now saw plainly enough the formidable forces reported to him, and realised what mighty issues were at stake. It was now past noon, and having calculated the time required for the various corps to get to the front, he fixed five o'clock as the time for a general attack, and sent messengers in every direction with these orders.

At that time the whole army was drawn up in line; Marshal Ney on the right, Marshal Lannes in the centre, Marshal Mortier on the left, and General Victor with the reserve force. The entire force of Bennigsen was in position opposite to them, in front of and on the right and left of Friedland.

A salvoe of artillery gave the signal, and Marshal Ney issued with his corps from the wood which had hidden them from the enemy, and advanced upon the Russians in columns of divisions with shouldered arms at a rapid pace.

Immediately a swarm of some five to six thousand Cossacks, Kalmucks and Khirgesses and Bashkirs, covering a mass of regular cavalry, surrounded our infantry, hoping to dismay them with their wild charges and yells. But our dragoons advanced at a gallop, swept aside and drove back this irregular cavalry, whilst General Victor came up to protect the artillery of General Senarmont, who was thundering at the enemy's lines from a battery of thirty pieces, and Marshal Ney marching straight ahead attacked and drove back with bayonet charges a considerable body of Russians, driving men and horses into the ravine and the river, where many of them were drowned.

Whilst this was going on on our right, Marshal Mortier on the left charged the enemy in front of him and drove it also back on Friedland, where the Russians were now massed in great numbers.

At the same time, with a concerted action no one but the Emperor could have brought about, Marshal Lannes with the Oudinot and Verdier divisions attacked the centre of the Russians concentrated at Friedland, and drove them back, in spite of charge after charge of their cavalry, which with reckless bravery endeavoured in vain to check the advance of our columns.

Marshal Ney, having quickly destroyed the forces which had opposed him, now approached Friedland by his left and attempted to enter it. The Russian guard, infantry and cavalry together, rushed to oppose his movement, and for a moment threw the Marshal's troops into confusion, making them lose ground. But Marshal Dupont saw what was going on, attacked the Russian guard in the rear, and drove it back. With scarcely room to move in the narrow ravines by which they endeavoured to retreat, nearly all the men of the guard fell in a general massacre, and their generals Pahlen and Markof were killed.

All the Russian forces on the right of Friedland were driven back by Marshals Lannes and Mortier, and forced to retreat by way of the difficult fords of the Alle. Great numbers were drowned, and quantities of artillery and baggage were left embedded in the mud. Every house in the little town of Friedland was crowded with wounded Russians, and the reserve forces of the enemy made superhuman efforts to prevent our entering it. But we advanced all the same, and the fighting went on in the streets, which became literally choked with the bodies of men and horses killed by shot or bayonet. At last as the sun went down the French found themselves masters of the town, and with no more enemies to repulse. They were able to take breath once more, and their repose was broken only by an occasional discharge from the cannon on the heights of the right bank of the Alle, and by the hunger and thirst they could not satisfy.

It was just at the end of this glorious day that I arrived panting for breath with the good news of the approaching fall of Colberg. The Emperor and Prince Berthier were just dismounting near the town when I came up to them. I had no sooner begun to tell of my having taken the outlying fort of Colberg by assault, than the Emperor interrupted me, saying with a bright and friendly smile, ‘I too have taken my village of Colberg today, and everything else which checked my advance. Friedland is worth Austerlitz, Jena, and Marengo, the anniversary of which I celebrate to-day! That will do now; go and rest. I have got to work!’

I went off to find my comrades, who were bivouacking in a field of wheat, our men taking the straw to feed the horses. I flung myself down beside them, and they told me all that had happened that day and how my young brother, a second-lieutenant in a picked corps, had been wounded in the morning. I went off to find him, but could not do so for several days. At last, however, I came upon him in a château to which he had retired, and where he was being carefully nursed by five or six pretty women. A ball had wounded him in the leg, but without fracturing the bone, and he recovered well and rapidly. It was with great regret that he left his kind hosts at the end of the campaign, after the signing of the Peace of Tilsit, when I went to fetch him and to take him to Paris as a convalescent. It was not quite six months before the battle of Friedland that I had fetched him in my carriage from the military college at Fontainebleau, and taken him to join his regiment at Jena. When we parted I said as I embraced him, ‘I wish you three things––a wound, advancement, and the cross of honour.’ A few days after Friedland all these wishes were accomplished, for the young soldier was raised to the rank of lieutenant, and General Oudinot, who had noted his brave bearing in the battle, gave him the cross of honour, then a very rarely granted recompense. I had the pleasure to gain for him in addition to all this six months’ leave of absence, which he passed at home with me.

But I must return to the Imperial head quarters at Friedland. Some 18,000 Russian corpses encumbered the ground round the Emperor’s bivouac, with more dead horses than I had ever seen elsewhere, for the enemy's cavalry had suffered terribly.

On June 15 the pursuit of the enemy was continued, and we entered Vehlau, where the Germans, men and women alike, freed from the yoke of the Russians, who had treated them badly, received us with open arms. In their retreat the Russians everywhere set fire to their magazines, and cut or burnt the bridges. Reaching the Pregel on the 16th, we found the bridges all burnt, and the Emperor had several new ones thrown across the river. The same day the Russians abandoned Königsberg, leaving that fine city crowded with wounded and with stores of weapons and provisions of all kinds. Marshal Soult established himself there with his corps, whilst Prince Murat continued the pursuit of the retreating army. Every day a skirmish took place with the Russians, and the Prince secured 5,000 prisoners with seventeen cannon, making his entry into Tilsit on the 19th, in spite of the opposition of a swarm of Kalmucks and Tartars, who discharged their arrows with considerable skill to the accompaniment of piercing yells. The nomad cavalry then galloped over the wooden bridge of Tilsit, and hastily set fire to it.

The Emperor and his staff entered Tilsit on the afternoon of the 19th. The enemy had not had time to do much mischief, and in the farms and homesteads on the fertile borders of the Niemen we found plenty of the forage for the horses and provisions for the men of which our army was in such urgent need.

After sustaining in a few days such heavy losses, the Emperor Alexander realised the necessity of putting an end to the disastrous war by making peace, and he sent one of his generals, Prince Labanoff, to Marshal Berthier to propose an armistice. The Emperor at once granted an audience to the Russian Plenipotentiary, receiving him in a most friendly manner, and the preliminaries of peace were ready for signature on the 21st.¹

¹ Tilsit was declared neutral during the subsequent negotiations.—Trans.

The day after we learnt that the Emperors Alexander and Napoleon proposed meeting in a boat on the Niemen between the two armies, to talk over the final terms of peace. General Lariboisière, commander of the French artillery, at once ordered a huge raft to be made, on which a beautiful pavilion was to be erected for the reception of the two Emperors. Whilst awaiting the interview, Napoleon occupied himself in reviewing the troops, reorganising them, and disposing them so as to make them present as good an appearance as if they had not suffered at all in their arduous campaign. He was very much aided in this by the fine condition of his Guard, which had not been into action since the battle of Eylau, and looked as well in the camp at Tilsit as ever they did in a parade at Paris.

At noon on June 25, 1809, the banks on either side of the river were covered with immense crowds, presenting a most picturesque appearance. On the Russian side were the soldiers from the Caucasus and the Don, with their bows and arrows, their lances and their barbaric armour, whilst on the other the French warriors in their gleaming uniforms were picturesquely grouped in the careless disorder of times of peace, on roofs, trees, and every point of vantage on the banks of the Niemen.

At half-past twelve two boats draped with flags, one bearing the white ensign of the Emperor of Russia with its double-headed black eagle, the other the national flag of France, left the banks at the same moment and approached the raft. As they alighted on it the Emperors cordially shook hands and passed into the tent prepared for them, round which were stationed a number of Russian and French sentinels.

The interview between the monarchs lasted two hours, during which I remained standing in a little boat which I had so placed as to command the best possible general view of the memorable scene and of the banks crowded with spectators on either side of the beautiful river. I made a sketch of it all, which was afterwards engraved; and when the Emperor left the raft at the end of the two hours I was allowed to go on board. My friend Bontemps reverently took possession of the pens and writing-case used in signing the treaty which was to secure peace to Europe for many happy years. If what M. de Talleyrand, Prince of Benevento, wrote to me in 1817 is still true, these three precious relics connected with the memory of an event of such importance must have very greatly deteriorated in value. I knew that the Prince's large fortune had been acquired under the Empire, so I begged him to give his support to the authors of an historical work on our campaigns and victories. He replied, ‘Victories are only interesting as long as the advantages they procured are retained; the results of the work of the Empire no longer exist, and they cease to be remembered as politics change. I cannot help those on whose behalf you appeal to me.’

On June 26 the two Emperors met again on the Niemen, and directly afterwards the Emperor Alexander took up his residence in Tilsit, where he was treated with all possible honour and consideration. On the 27th we witnessed the arrival of the venerable Marshal Kalkreuth, who bad so heroically defended Dantzig. The King of Prussia and the Grand Duke Constantine arrived the next day. We helped to do honour to all these royal visitors, and the time was fully occupied with fêtes, brilliant parades, and dinners, washed down with plenty of punch. The Grand Duke Constantine had the square features of a Kalmuck, and resembled his father Paul I., whom I had seen at Strasburg when I was a child, but he had a fine figure, held himself well, and his courage in mounting the wildest horses was only equalled by his extraordinary skill in controlling them. He delighted in showing off his skill to us in the slippery streets of Tilsit, where the dangers of these hazardous feats were, of course, greatly increased. Another equally remarkable sight, and one we often went to see, was that of the encampments on the right bank of the Niemen of the wild hordes from the North. We liked to study their customs, their quaint flat features, and their Oriental costumes, to listen to their songs, and watch their skill with their bows and arrows, giving prizes to the best marksmen. Their arrows would pierce an apple at a distance of a hundred yards more often than our pistol shots could hit a button at twenty-five. I made sketches of a good many of these Tartars, Kalmucks, and Khirgesses.

In the midst of these warlike recreations the young, beautiful, and graceful Queen of Prussia ¹ arrived, and the feminine attractions at Tilsit now made us all more polite than ever, so that for some days the town wore the aspect of a Court.

Meanwhile the Emperor had quitted Tilsit and was on his way to Paris, whither I followed him in the suite of Marshal Berthier.

¹ The Queen of Prussia, though she hated ‘Napoleon for the mischief he had done to her country, did her very utmost to mollify him at Tilsit, and is said, when the French Emperor admired a rose she was wearing, to have asked him if he would give her Magdeburg in exchange for it. See the Marbot Memoirs, vol. i. pp. 286 and 287.—Trans.