The early morning mist had burned off quickly as the sun rose into a clear blue sky. As he sat on the cushioned thwart at the rear of the barge Napoleon stared across the glassy flow of the Niemen towards the far bank. The dense ranks of the Russian Guard stood in columns a short distance from the water. There was not a breath of wind and their standards hung limply from their gilded staffs. The Tsar’s barge was still tethered to a small jetty and as Napoleon watched there was a sudden burst of activity as the boatmen piled into the vessel and hurriedly took up their oars. Napoleon smiled to himself. Once again he had stolen the initiative by setting out from his side of the river first. He would reach the large raft that had been moored in the middle of the current before Tsar Alexander and so would be in a position to welcome the enemy sovereign aboard. That would give him a small but definite advantage over the Tsar before they even began to speak.
As his gaze moved to the raft Napoleon was pleased with the work carried out by the Grand Army’s engineers. It was less than two days since Prince Lobanoff had ridden into the French camp to offer an armistice on behalf of his master, Tsar Alexander. Since then, the raft, twenty paces on each side, had been constructed on the banks of the river. A generous apartment had been built on the middle and comfortably furnished with a table and chairs, and extensively decorated with tapestries bearing the eagles of France and Russia.There were two doors so that the Emperor and the Tsar could enter the apartment from their side of the river. Once completed, the raft had been carefully floated out into the middle of the Niemen and anchored securely in place from a stout post at each corner.
As the French barge angled across the current towards it, Napoleon could see the fine craftsmanship that had gone into the hurried construction and made a mental note to have Berthier reward the engineers who had made such a fine thing so quickly. If the meeting with the Tsar went well, then perhaps there would be peace and the men who had been campaigning for the last ten months could at last rest after all their exertions.
Despite the battles of Jena and Auerstadt and the occupation of Berlin, the Prussians had not surrendered, and it was only after the bloodbath at Eylau and their subsequent defeat at Friedland that the enemy’s will to continue the fight had finally broken. The men of the Grand Army sensed it at once and had been in high spirits ever since at the prospect of peace, on French terms. All the bitterness and demoralisation that had plagued Napoleon’s soldiers through the long, freezing winter months had gone and even the slaughter at Eylau had faded from the thoughts of most. Though his men once again cheered him heartily as he passed through their ranks, Napoleon knew that their morale, what he called their ‘sacred fire’, was a fickle thing, and if Russia refused to come to terms and the war continued, then they would soon slip into the familiar morose despair of men who had been marching and fighting for too long.
The truth was that Napoleon needed peace as much as his enemies did. He had been away from Paris for too long, and from Fouche’s reports it was clear that his opponents in the French capital were growing ever more bold and outspoken. It was vital that he returned at the earliest opportunity to re-exert his control over the politicians and people of Paris. In addition, he had not seen Josephine for several months, and her most recent letters were filled with a bitter petulance about his prolonged absence. Napoleon had no doubt that word of his affair with Countess Walewska had reached the Empress’s ears and that she had been hurt by his infidelity.
The barge approached the mooring post on the edge of the raft and as the oarsmen, men from the engineers attached to the Imperial Guard, raised their oars, the boat glided gently in at an angle. The man in the prow grunted as he grasped the wooden side of the raft and strained his powerful arms as he braced himself and brought the craft to a standstill. With a quick flick of a rope he fastened the bows to the mooring post and then leaped nimbly on to the raft, where he took the rope thrown to him from the stern and pulled the barge alongside. Napoleon rose unsteadily from his seat and one of the men carefully supported his arm as he stepped on to the deck of the raft. He straightened up and smoothed down his coat and breeches. He was wearing the uniform of a Colonel of the Imperial Guard, and had deliberately left his decorations and sash back at his quarters.The impression he wished to make on the Tsar was that of a commander of men, not some pampered peacock at a royal court.
‘Stay here,’ he ordered quietly, and then crossed to the door facing the French bank of the Niemen. He pushed the handle down and entered the apartment, closing the door behind him.There he paused a moment, admiring the fine construction and decoration that his men had crafted. Napoleon nodded. The Tsar could not help but be impressed by the raft, not to mention the feat of putting it together so quickly, and positioning it so precisely in the middle of the river.Which was good, Napoleon mused. If the preliminary talks went well, he had resolved to put the Grand Army on display to impress the Tsar with its efficiency and elan. Napoleon crossed to the other door, opened it and emerged on to the far side of the raft.
The Tsar’s barge had put out from the other bank and the men at the oars were rowing lustily to speed their passenger to the encounter with Napoleon. They were making a meal of it as they splashed furiously through the smooth ripples of the river. Napoleon focused his attention on the figure sitting at the rear of the barge. Alexander was wearing a green jacket adorned with heavy gold epaulettes, and diamond-encrusted stars were pinned to his breast. A broad red sash hung from his shoulder and a white plume rose high from his cocked hat. He sat stiff and erect as the boat neared the raft and seemed to look straight past Napoleon as the latter waited, alone.
The Russian barge bumped into the side of the raft, causing those aboard to lurch forward, and the Tsar hurriedly snatched a hand to his hat to keep it on his head. Once the boat was alongside, the Tsar stood and held out his arms and two of his men lifted him bodily from the boat on to the raft, where he paused and looked his adversary over without expression. Alexander was a tall, slender man with a rounded face and soft feminine features, and as he removed his hat and bowed he revealed a high forehead and receding hair.
Napoleon strode the few paces between them and grasped the Tsar’s hand, smiling warmly. ‘Your majesty, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I had begun to fear that the tragic war that existed between our nations would deprive me of the pleasure of your company for ever. But here we are!’ Napoleon gestured to the finely appointed raft.
The Tsar glanced round and nodded approvingly. Speaking in accentless French, he said, ‘A fine piece of work, your majesty.’
Napoleon noticed the slight hesitancy before the Tsar addressed him by title, and fought back his anger over the man’s reluctance to accord him the honour he was due. For an instant he was reminded of the ridicule he had endured at school in Brienne, when he had been mocked by the sons of aristocrats for his provincial background. However, he took a sharp breath and calmed himself before he replied, the welcoming smile still fixed on his face.
‘It is the work of my engineers. They are capable of turning their hand to almost any task.’
‘So I can see.’
‘Please come this way.’ Napoleon gestured towards the door, then led the Tsar inside the apartment and indicated the seats on either side of the table.
Alexander laid his hat on the table and then eased himself cautiously on to the chair, as if expecting some kind of French treachery. Napoleon could not help smiling at his suspicion. It would only help to keep the Tsar preoccupied while he conversed, and again hand the initiative to Napoleon. Flicking back his coat-tails, Napoleon sat down, and the two rulers looked at each other unflinchingly for a moment in silence. Napoleon waited for the other
