Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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"But this impossible," exclaimed Hardenberg, "he would not dare any
thing of the kind; he would not violate in so flagrant a manner the
orders given him by his king!"

"But he did so," said Augereau, "and if your excellency should have
any doubts as to the truth of what Count St. Marsan said, here is
the autograph letter in which General von York informs Marshal
Macdonald of his defection; and, besides, another letter in which
the commander of the cavalry, General von Massenbach, notifies
Marshal Macdonald that he has acceded to York's convention, and
henceforth will no longer obey the marshal's orders. Conformably to
this convention, the Prussian troops have already left the positions
assigned them by Marshal Macdonald, and returned to Prussian
territory."

"It is true; there can be no doubt of it," said Hardenberg, with a
deep sigh, and handing back to the marshal the papers which he had
rapidly glanced over. He then rose from his chair and said: "This is
so unparalleled and unexpected an event, that I am at the present
moment almost unable to collect my thoughts. You will pardon me,
therefore, for leaving you; above all, I have to inform his majesty,
the king, of this important intelligence, and receive his orders in
regard to it. But then I beg leave to see Count St. Marsan at his
residence, to confer with him as to the measures to be taken
concerning this terrible event."

"I will await you at whatever hour of the night it may be," said
Count St. Marsan; "I am now about to return to my residence."

"And I to the king!" exclaimed Hardenberg, taking leave.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE DEFECTION OF GENERAL YORK.

King Frederick William had just returned to his cabinet after
attending to the last business, which he never neglected to perform
on any day of the year; that is to say, he had repaired to the
bedrooms of his children, and bidden the little sleepers "good-
night" by gently kissing them. In former times he did this by the
side of his wife, with a happy heart and a smiling face; it had
been, as it were, the last seal both pressed, at the close of every
day of their common happiness, upon the foreheads of their sleeping
children. But since Louisa had left him, to bid this "good-night"
had become, as it were, a sacred pilgrimage to his most precious
recollections. When he passed through the silent corridors at night,
and entered the rooms of his sons and daughters, he thought of her
who had left him three years before, but whom he believed he saw,
with her sweet smile and loving eyes. He took pains to remind such
of his children as he found awake of their dear departed parent,
whispering to them, "Remember your noble mother, whose eyes behold
you." And on the lips of those asleep he never failed to press two
kisses--one for himself and the other for Louisa.

The king had just returned to his cabinet, and, like a dying glimmer
of twilight, a faint smile was illuminating his countenance, which,
since the queen's death, had grown grave and sad. He seated himself
on the sofa where she had so often sat by his side, and cast a
mournful glance upon the vacant place beside him. "Alone! Always
alone!" he said in a low voice. "Nothing around me but intrigues,
quarrels, and malice! No one who loves me! Alone!" With a quick
motion he turned his head toward the side of the wall where hung
over his desk the portrait of Queen Louisa, in her white dress, and
a rose on her bosom. "Where are you, then, Louisa!" he exclaimed;
"why did you leave me, though you had sworn to bear joy and grief
with me? You are not here to share them, and--" Suddenly the king
paused and turned his eyes toward the door. It seemed to him as
though he heard hasty footsteps, and some one softly rapping at his
door. Who, at this unusual hour, could ask for admittance? Who could
dare now interrupt his solitude, when it was well understood he
desired to be left alone?

The rapping was repeated, louder than before, and a timid, imploring
voice asked, "Has his majesty returned to his cabinet?"

"It is Timm, my chamberlain," said the king. "What can he want of
me?"

Ordering him in a loud tone to walk in, the door was immediately
opened, and the chamberlain appeared on the threshold. "Pardon me,
sire," he said, "but his excellency Chancellor von Hardenberg is in
the anteroom, and urgently requests your majesty to grant him an
immediate audience."

"Hardenberg!" exclaimed the king, anxiously. "What has happened;
what--" He interrupted himself: "I will see the chancellor. Admit
him at once."

The chamberlain withdrew. The king arose and advanced several steps
toward the door; then, as if ashamed of his own impatience, he
stopped, while his face expressed the agitation of his mind.

Hardenberg entered, and, closing the door rapidly, approached the
king. "Your majesty," he said, "I beg pardon for daring to disturb
you at so late an hour; but the extraordinary importance of the news
I bring to you will be my excuse. I was at the supper-table of
Marshal Augereau, in company with the French ambassador, Count St.
Marsan, when important dispatches, just arrived from the army, were
delivered to the ambassador."

"A battle has been fought, has it not? Has my corps been routed?"
asked the king, breathlessly.

"No, your majesty, there has been no battle. A much more
extraordinary event has taken place, General von York has concluded
a convention with the Russian General Diebitsch, and signed a treaty
by which the troops commanded by York separate from the French, and
engage to remain neutral for two months."

"That is not true!" exclaimed the king. "A mere rumor!--an
impossibility!"

"Your majesty, it is but too true. I myself have read the autograph
letters in which Generals York and Massenbach inform Marshal
Macdonald of their resolution not to obey his orders longer."

The king pressed his hands against his temple, and exclaimed, in a
tremulous voice: "Oh, this is enough to throw one into a state of
apoplexy! [Footnote: The king's own words.--Vide Droysen's "Life of
York, "vol. ii., p. 36.] It is unheard of, contrary to military law,
contrary to all international obligations! It is open rebellion,
revolutionary resistance to his king and commander-in-chief! A
general who dares commit so terrible a crime must be tried by court-
martial, and sentence of death passed upon him. I cannot pardon
him!"

"Your majesty," said Hardenberg, in dismay, "it is possible that
General York may have committed a crime against discipline, but,
nevertheless, it is an heroic and magnanimous deed, and no Prussian
court-martial will dare inflict punishment on him. We do not yet
know the urgent circumstances obliging the general to make this
decision; we do not yet know from what dangers he may have preserved
the Prussian army by his quick and resolute step."

"But we know that he has committed an unparalleled crime against
discipline!"

"A crime by which he may perhaps have saved Prussia from utter
destruction! The general will be able to justify his deed."

"But it seems that he does not even deem it necessary to inform me
of his proceedings," exclaimed the king, indignantly. "He appears to
have made himself dictator, and as he does not recognize my military
laws, he refuses also to acknowledge me as commander-in-chief, to
whom he owes obedience."

"Your majesty, I believe there is his justification already," said
Hardenberg, pointing at Timm the chamberlain, who reentered the room
at this moment.

"Well, what is it, Timm?" asked the king, hastily.

"Your majesty, a courier from General von York has just arrived; he
is bearer of dispatches, which he is to deliver to your majesty in
person."

"Who is the courier?" asked the king.

"The general's aide-de-camp, Major Thile."

"Let him come in," said the king.

The jingle of spurs, and heavy, weary footsteps were heard
approaching; Major von Thile entered. His uniform was covered with
dust and mud; his hair hung in wet locks upon his forehead, and
there shone in his mustache the snow-flakes with which the stormy
night had adorned it.

"Did you arrive now?" asked the king, eying him closely.

"I did, your majesty, and, agreeably to the orders of General von
York, have had myself driven directly to the royal palace, for the
general deemed it of the highest importance that I should deliver my
dispatches as soon as possible to your majesty. Hence I rode night
and day, and, my horse breaking down today, I was obliged to take a
carriage."

"But the French courier reached Berlin earlier than you did," said
the king, gruffly. "How does that happen? Have the French quicker
horses or more devoted soldiers?"

"No, your majesty, their road to Berlin was shorter than mine, that
is all. As I could not ride across the French camp, I had to take a
roundabout road by way of Gumbinnen. This caused a delay of four
hours."

"Give me your dispatches," said the king.

Major Thile handed him a large sealed paper. The king extended his
hand to take it, but suddenly withdrew it again and started back.

"No," he said, "it does not behoove a king to receive letters from a
traitorous subject--a rebellious soldier. Take this dispatch, M.
Chancellor; open and read it to me. Give it to his excellency."

Major Thile handed Hardenberg the letter, and, while he was doing
so, the eyes of the two men met. The major's eyes expressed an
anxious question, those of Hardenberg made him a sad and painful
reply, and both were unable to restrain a sigh.

"Read," said the king, stepping into the window-niche, folding his
hands on his breast, and placing himself so that the curtains shaded
his face, and screened it from the two gentlemen.

Hardenberg unfolded the paper and read as follows:

"To his Majesty the King:--Tauroggen, December 30, 18l2.--Placed in
a very unfavorable position by setting out at a later day than the
marshal did, and being ordered to march from Mitau to Tilsit, for
the sole purpose of covering the retreat of the seventh division, I
have been compelled, on account of impassable roads, and very severe
weather, to conclude with the Russian commander, Major-General
Diebitsch, the enclosed convention, which I beg leave to lay before
your majesty. Firmly convinced that a continuation of the march
would have unavoidably brought about the dissolution of the whole
corps, and the loss of its entire artillery and baggage, as was the
case of the retreat of the grand army, I believe it was incumbent
upon me, as your majesty's faithful subject, to regard your
interest, and no longer that of your ally, for whom our auxiliary
corps would only have been sacrificed without being able to afford
him any real assistance in the desperate predicament in which he was
placed. The convention imposes no obligations whatever upon your
majesty, but it preserves to you a corps that gives value to the old
alliance, or a new one, if such should be concluded, and prevents
your majesty from being at the mercy of an ally at whose hands you
would have to receive as a gift the preservation or restoration of
your states. I would willingly lay my head at the feet of your
majesty if I have erred; I would die with the joyous conviction of
having at least committed no act contrary to my duty as a faithful
subject and a true Prussian. Now or never is the time for your
majesty to extricate yourself from the thraldom of an ally whose
intentions in regard to Prussia are veiled in impenetrable darkness,
and justify the most serious alarm. That consideration has guided
me. God grant it may be for the salvation of the country!--YORK."
[Footnote: Droysen's "Life of York," vol. i., p. 493.]

A pause ensued. The king still stood with folded arms in the window-
niche, his face shaded by the curtains, and inaccessible to the
anxious and searching glances of Hardenberg and the major.

"Does your majesty now command me to read the convention?" asked the
minister.

"No," said the king, sternly, "what do I care for a convention drawn
up by a traitor? I would not be at liberty to accept it even though
it should secure me new provinces.--Major Thile!"

"Your majesty!" said the major, advancing a few steps with stiff,
military bearing.

"Were you present at the negotiations preceding this convention? Are
you familiar with the circumstances that led to it?"

"Yes, your majesty; General von York deigned to repose implicit
confidence in me; I am perfectly familiar with the course of the
negotiations, and was present when the convention was concluded. I
observed the inward struggles of the general; I witnessed the
terrible conflict that took place in his breast between his duty as
a soldier and his conscience as a faithful subject of your majesty.
As a soldier he was conscious of the crime he was about to commit
against discipline; as a faithful subject, he felt that he ought to
commit it if he wished to avoid plunging a corps of ten thousand
men, belonging to your majesty alone, into utter and irretrievable
destruction."

"Did the negotiations last a long time? Speak! I want to know all;
but, understand me well, the truth. No protestations! Speak now!"

"Yes, your majesty, the negotiations had been going on for some
time; in fact, ever since the so-called 'grand army' made its
appearance in miserable, ragged, and starving squads--mere crowds of
woe-begone, famished beggars--while the splendid and powerful
Russian forces were constantly approaching closer to our positions
and the Prussian frontier. The Russian generals, Prince Wittgenstein
and General Diebitsch, were sending one messenger after another to
York and informing him of the dangers of his position, surrounded on
all sides by Russian troops. They advised him therefore to yield,
unless he wished needlessly to expose the soldiers of your majesty
to inevitable destruction. They urged him, for the salvation of
Prussia, to grasp the saving hand that was being held out to him,
and compel Prussia to forsake an utterly ruined ally, who, in order
to secure a brief respite, would assuredly not hesitate to sacrifice
for his own benefit Prussia's last strength and resources. But the
general was still unable to make up his mind to take a step which
might be disavowed by your majesty. In the mean time, however, the
news came that Memel had been taken and occupied by the Russians,
and Prince Wittgenstein simultaneously sent word that he had placed
a corps of fifty thousand men on the banks of the Niemen, and was
ready to pursue the French army, which would now seek safety in
Prussia. Prince Wittgenstein, therefore, demanded categorically
whether York would leave the French army, or whether he was to be
considered a part of it, and an enemy of Russia."

"And what did York reply?" asked the king, hastily.

"Your majesty, he was silent. Even we, his confidants, did not know
what decision he had come to. Suddenly a messenger from Marshal
Macdonald, who had succeeded in getting into our lines, appeared at
York's headquarters. He informed the general that the French troops
of the marshal were near Piktupohnen, and brought orders that York
should march to that place, where Macdonald would await him, and
that the French and Prussian forces should then be united.
Henceforth further hesitation was out of the question. The
messengers, both of the Russian General Diebitsch and the French
Marshal Macdonald, were at his headquarters, and insisted that he
should make up his mind as to the course to be pursued by his corps.
York either had to set out at once and force a passage through the
Russian lines, in order to join the French marshal at Piktupohnen,
or to refuse to obey the marshal's orders, and, instead of marching
upon Piktupohnen, join the Russians, and proceed to Prussia. But
General York had not yet made up his mind. Toward nightfall another
messenger from General Diebitsch arrived at his headquarters. This
messenger was Lieutenant-Colonel Clausewitz, whom Diebitsch had sent
to insist again on a categorical reply. York received him sullenly,
and said to him: 'Keep aloof from me. I do not wish to have any
thing to do with you. Your accursed Cossacks have allowed a
messenger from Macdonald to pass through your lines, and he has
brought me orders to march upon Piktupohnen, and there join him. All
doubts are at an end. Your troops do not arrive; you are too weak; I
decline continuing negotiations which would cost me my head.'"
[Footnote: York's own words.--Vide Droysen, vol. i., p. 486.]

"Did the general really say so?" asked the king, quickly. "Do you
tell me the truth?"

"Yes, your majesty, it is the whole truth. General York said so; I
was present when Clausewitz came to him. I remained with Colonel
Roden in the room when Clausewitz, at last, at his urgent request,
received from General York permission to deliver to him at least the
letters he had brought with him from Generals d'Anvray and
Diebitsch. The general read them; he then fixed his piercing eyes on
Clausewitz, and said: 'Clausewitz, you are a Prussian! Do you
believe that General d'Anvray's letter is sincere, and that
Wittgenstein's troops will be on the Niemen on the 31st of December?
Can you give me your word of honor upon it?' Lieutenant-Colonel
Clausewitz gave him his word of honor. York was silent, and
repeatedly paced the room, absorbed in his reflections; he then gave
Clausewitz his hand, and said in a firm voice, and with a sublime
air, 'You have me! Tell General Diebitsch that we will hold an
interview in the morning at the mill of Poscherun, and that I have
made up my mind to forsake the French and their cause. I will not go
to Piktupohnen!' When he said so, we who witnessed that great moment
were no longer able to restrain our transports. Forgetful alike of
etiquette and discipline, Roden, Clausewitz, and myself, rushed up
to the general to embrace him, thanking him with tearful eyes, and
telling him that he had fulfilled the most ardent wishes of the
whole corps, and that all Prussian officers would receive with
heart-felt rejoicings the news that we were to be delivered from the
French alliance. But York gazed on us with grave, gloomy eyes, and
said, with a faint smile; 'It is all very well for you, young men,
to talk in this way. But the head of your old commander is tottering
on his shoulders.' [Footnote: This whole scene is historical.--Vide
Droysen, vol. i., p. 487.] In the morning he summoned all the
officers of his corps to his headquarters, and informed them in an
affecting speech of the decision he had come to."

"What did he say?" asked the king. "Can you repeat his words to me?"

"I can, your majesty; for, after returning to my room, I wrote down
the speech I had heard in my memorandum-book, and I believe every
word of it was engraven in my memory."

"Have you your memorandum-book here?"

"I have, your majesty.'"

"Read!"

Major Thile drew his memorandum-book from his breast-pocket, and
read as follows: "'Gentlemen, the French army has been annihilated
by Heaven's avenging hand; the time has come for us to recover our
independence by uniting with the Russian army. Let those who share
my sentiments, and are ready to sacrifice their lives for the
fatherland and for liberty, follow me; those who are unwilling to do
so may remain with the French. Let the issue of our cause be
whatever it may, I shall always esteem and honor even those who do
not share my sentiments, and who prefer to remain. If we succeed,
the king may, perhaps, pardon me for what I have done; if we are
unsuccessful, then I must lose my head. In that case, I pray my
friends to take care of my wife and children.' Your majesty," said
Major Thile, closing his memorandum-book, "that was the whole
speech."

"And what did the officers reply to it?" asked the king. "Mind! the
truth!--I want to know the truth!"

"And I am courageous enough to tell you the truth, although I am
afraid that your majesty will be displeased. All the officers
received the general's speech with unbounded transports and with
tears of joy. They shook hands, they embraced, and greeted each
other, as if they had suddenly returned from a foreign country to
their beloved fatherland; as if their tongues had suddenly been
loosened, and liberty to use the language of their country had been
restored to them. No one thought of remaining with the French; every
one was animated with enthusiasm at the thought that he should at
length risk his life for the cause of his country and his king;
every one had in his heart, and on his lips, a fervent prayer for
the new sacred cause which he was to serve again, and an imprecation
for that which he had been obliged to serve. When the general
exclaimed, in a ringing voice, 'Let us then, with the assistance of
Providence, enter upon and achieve the task of liberation,' all
shouted 'Amen! We will die rather than serve the enemy longer!' Your
majesty, I have now told you nothing but the whole truth. If the
general deserves punishment, all the officers of his corps deserve
it. He called upon us to part with him if we did not share his
convictions. But none of us did so, for his convictions were ours,
and we are ready to share his punishment, too, if your majesty
should punish York for what he did, as a noble and devoted patriot!"

"Your remarks are impertinent, major," said the king sternly. "I
will not allow myself to be dazzled by your tirades. Go! You need
repose. Report to me early in the morning. You will then return with
dispatches to the army. Good-by!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE WARNING.

"Well, M. Chancellor," said the king, when Thile had left the room,
"tell me your opinion--the best way by which we may counteract this
senseless and rash step, and succeed in preserving our country from
the disastrous consequences."

"Your majesty, then, is not willing to approve of the bold act York
has taken?" asked Hardenberg.

"I hope you did not indulge for a moment in such a belief,"
exclaimed the king. "York was perhaps justified in preserving his
troops from being needlessly sacrificed; but he should have based
his conduct solely on this idea, and from it have explained his
action. Instead of doing so, he justifies it by political motives,
and thereby compromises and endangers my own position. Now, I am
myself entirely at the mercy of France, and utterly destitute of
means to brave the anger of Napoleon." [Footnote: The king's words.-
-Vide Droysen, vol. i., p. 488.]

"No," said Hardenberg, "your majesty is not entirely at the mercy of
France, and Napoleon's anger must no longer be allowed to terrify
Prussia. You have only to raise your voice and call out your
faithful subjects, and the whole nation will rise as one man;
thousands will rally round their king, and you will enter with an
invincible army upon the holy war of liberation. It will not be with
a visible army only that you will take the field--an invisible army
will accompany you--the army of minds and hearts, the grand army
whose chieftain is public opinion, whose soldier is every beggar on
the street, whose cannon is every word that is uttered, every love-
greeting and every blessing. Oh, your majesty, this 'grand army'
will pave the way for you, and will enlist everywhere new recruits,
fill your military chests, clothe and feed your soldiers, and, under
your colors, fight the enemy whom all Germany--all Europe hates
intensely, and whose yoke every one feels weighing upon his neck.
Oh, let me assure your majesty that it is only for you to be
willing, and all Prussia will rally round you for the war of
liberation!"

"But I must not be willing," said the king; "it is contrary to my
honor and my conscience. I pledged my word to the Emperor Napoleon;
I am his ally; I am deeply impressed with the sanctity of my
existing treaties with France, and feel, as every man of honor
would, that the obligation to maintain them inviolate is only
rendered the more sacred by the disasters which have overwhelmed the
imperial armies. Besides, you look at things in a light by far too
partial and rose-colored. Do not confound your enthusiastic hopes
with stern reality. The 'grand army of public opinion,' to which you
refer, is an ally which cannot be depended upon--it is fickle,
turning with every wind--it is an ally prodigal of words, but not of
deeds. If my soldiers were to be clothed, and fed by public opinion,
they would likely go naked and die of hunger. If my military chests
wait for public opinion to fill them, they would remain empty.
Public opinion, by the way, has always been on my side and against
Napoleon; it has, for six years past, disapproved--nay, indignantly
condemned his course toward Prussia, and still it has permitted
Napoleon to halve my states; to take much more than he was entitled
to by the treaty of Tilsit; to leave his troops in my states, in
spite of the express stipulations of the treaties; to impose
contributions on Prussia and extort their payment. Public opinion
deplored it as a terrible calamity that I should be, as it were, a
prisoner here in the capital of my own monarchy, and at the palace
of my ancestors, and live under the cannon of Spandau, a fortress
unlawfully occupied by the French. Public opinion, I say, deplored
my fate, but it did not come to my assistance; it did not preserve
me from the humiliations which, at Dresden, I had to endure, not
only at the hands of Napoleon, but of all the German princes. Do
not, therefore, allude again to your 'grand army of public opinion;'
I despise it, and know its fickle and faithless character. By virtue
of the existing treaties, I made my troops participate in Napoleon's
campaign against Russia. More than one-half of my soldiers have been
devoured by wolves on the fields of Russia; the other half are now
in open insurrection. And these are the troops with whom I am to
conquer!--conquer that powerful France which is able to call up
fresh armies as from the ground, and into the treasury of which her
unlimited resources are pouring millions! No, no; I will not plunge
into so hazardous an enterprise. I will not, for the sake of a
chimera, risk my last provinces, the inheritance of my children; I
could joyously give up my life in order to bring about a change of
our present deplorable situation, but I am not at liberty to
endanger my crown--the crown of my successor. Prussia must not be
blotted from the map of nations; she shall not be swallowed by
France, and I am therefore obliged patiently to bear the burden of
these times and submit to circumstances. Hence, I am not at liberty
to pardon General York's crime, but must punish him for his conduct
in accordance with the laws of war. I must give satisfaction to the
Emperor of France for the unheard-of conduct of my general, and he
shall have it! General von York shall be superseded in his command,
cashiered, and put on his trial before a military commission.
General Kleist will take command of the troops in his place."