Chapter 21
Bamberg, 7 October 1806
‘And, unless his imperial majesty replies to this ultimatum by the eighth day of October, and pledges to order his forces back from the frontier, a state of war will exist between Prussia and France . . .’
There was silence in the imperial headquarters as Talleyrand finished reading aloud from the document that had been sent from Berlin. He stepped towards Napoleon’s desk and laid the despatch down. Josephine stood behind the Emperor and rested her hands on the back of his chair as she glanced down at the despatch and saw the seal of Frederick William on the document. There was no doubt that the threat was genuine and that Prussia was set on war.
‘When did this arrive?’ Napoleon asked coldly.
‘It was delivered in Paris only five days ago, sire, and immediately forwarded here.’
Napoleon nodded slowly. ‘This is a calculated insult. Not by that weakling Frederick William. He would not have the nerve. This is the work of that witch, Queen Louise, and her war party of cronies. Very well then. If they wish to insult us, then we will deliver our reply in kind.’
Talleyrand cleared his throat lightly. ‘I beg your pardon, sire. But the deadline is tomorrow. There is no question of a reply’s reaching Berlin in time.’
‘Nevertheless, they will have their reply in the clearest possible manner. The invasion of Prussia will commence tomorrow. I imagine that will communicate our intentions unmistakably. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Talleyrand arched an eyebrow. ‘Invasion is eloquence itself, sire.’
Napoleon smiled at the comment and then continued, ‘At least our enemies had the kindness to fall into our trap.’
As Napoleon had hoped, the Prussians had annexed Saxony the moment they had been told that Napoleon would not oppose the move. As soon as the Prussian troops had marched in, a formal protest was sent to Berlin and the men of the Grand Army had begun to concentrate close to the border with Prussia. The Imperial Guard had been sent to the front in a fleet of hired carts and wagons, and finally at the end of September the Emperor himself had set off from Paris, accompanied by Josephine and Talleyrand. They arrived at Bamberg to find that Berthier had co-ordinated the preparations for the coming campaign with his usual efficiency. A hundred and sixty thousand Frenchmen, and ten thousand Bavarian allies, were poised to cross the border into Prussia in three vast columns led by Soult, Bernadotte and Lannes.Ahead of them, as ever, would ride Murat’s cavalry, screening the Grand Army from the prying eyes of Prussian scouts.
Before the Grand Army lay the Thuringer forest, a dense mass of ancient trees sprawling across rolling hills, through which many roads and tracks had been cut. It would take the Grand Army two days to pass through the woods and emerge deep inside Prussian territory. Since there had been little firm intelligence on the location of the Prussian armies Napoleon had arranged his columns in such a way that should any one of them run into enemy forces, it would pin them in place while the rest of the army converged on the location, a manoeuvre that would take little more than a day. Even with the earliest of reports to go on Napoleon estimated that his army would encounter the Prussians shortly after passing through the Thuringer forest.The most logical position for the Prussian army would be across the route towards Berlin.
And that was where Napoleon intended the Grand Army to find and defeat them.
He turned to Berthier.‘Very well, then. Give the orders for the army to advance. At dawn tomorrow the Prussians will have their reply.’
‘Yes, sire.’ Berthier bowed his head to the Emperor. ‘At once.’
As the chief of staff strode off to implement his master’s will, Josephine leaned forward and spoke quietly into Napoleon’s ear. ‘It seems that you have contrived yet another war for yourself.’
Napoleon twisted round in his chair and looked up at her with an angry expression. ‘I did not ask for this.’
‘You have done all but that.’ Josephine smiled faintly. ‘You manipulated the Prussians into this war.’
‘They made their choice,’ Napoleon replied bluntly. ‘They could have chosen peace, but they chose to wage war on France, to wage war on me. And they will learn the price of such folly soon enough.’
‘And once they are humbled, what next? One day you will run out of enemies, my love, and then what will there be left for you to do?’
Napoleon stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Enjoy the peace.’
She was silent for a moment and then shook her head sadly.‘War and peace. I don’t think you even know the difference between the two any more.’
‘Difference?’ Napoleon thought for a moment. ‘I wonder if there is a difference in the end. One cannot have one without the other.War is an extension of diplomacy by other means, and peace is merely the continuation of war by other means. There will always be war and peace, Josephine, just as surely as the rising of the sun. All that one can do is try to keep winning, however one can. Else there is only surrender or defeat. To me, war is not an aberration, but the essence of human nature.’
Josephine straightened up and regarded him with a look of despair. ‘God save us,’ she muttered in a low tone that only the two of them could hear. ‘You are a monster.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I am Napoleon.’
As the first hint of dawn lightened the horizon, the men of the Grand Army formed into their battalions and tramped across the border. The night had been cold and the chilly dawn air about the marching columns was marked with the swirling puffs of exhaled breath as the soldiers hunched in their coats, waiting for the warmth of their exertions to spread through their bodies. The din of nailed boots crunching over the hard ground was accompanied by the jingle of harness and rumble of heavy wheels as the limbered guns and wagons of the Grand Army rolled forward between the columns of marching infantry.
Napoleon had taken his leave of Josephine in a soured atmosphere. She had kissed him dutifully, but there was no warmth in her embrace, no affection in her eyes, and he felt an ache in his heart at her cold expression. He hoped that it did not portend an ill outcome for the coming campaign. Fortune had blessed him in the past, and where many men had been killed or crippled on the field of battle Napoleon had come through unscathed. The odds against his survival must surely be growing with each new campaign, he mused, as he took her hands and squeezed them.
‘I will return, my love.’
‘Yes,’ she responded softly. ‘I know. Until the next war.’
Napoleon looked sadly into her eyes, then released her hands and turned away to mount the horse that was held ready for him by one of his staff officers. Once he had heaved himself into the saddle, Napoleon adjusted his stirrups and took up the reins, and at a click of his tongue and a nudge from his heels the horse walked forward.