On the 1st of December he beheld the commencement of those false movements which he had desired and anticipated.  On seeing the Russians begin to descend from the heights, on which they might have lain in safety until the Archdukes could come to swell their array with the forces in Bohemia and Hungary, Napoleon did not repress his rapturous joy:  “In twenty-four hours,” said he, “that army is mine.”

Shortly afterwards there arrived Count Haugwitz, an envoy from the King of Prussia, who being introduced into the Emperor’s presence, signified that he was the bearer of an important communication.  “Count,” said Napoleon, “you may see that the outposts of the armies are almost meeting—­there will be a battle to-morrow—­return to Vienna, and deliver your message when it is over.”  The envoy did not require two biddings.  Napoleon had all this year been protracting the indecision of the Prussian counsels by holding out the delusive hope, that, were Austria effectually humbled, the imperial crown of Germany might be transferred to the house of Brandenburg.  The old jealousies, thus artfully awakened, had been sufficient to prevent a declaration of war from immediately following on the violation of the territory of Anspach and Bareuth.  The intervention of the Czar had, it is not to be doubted, at length determined the Court of Berlin to close their unworthy neutrality:—­but Haugwitz had no Prussian army in his train; and, seeing what was before him, he certainly did prudently to defer that which had been so unwisely as well as ungenerously put off from month to month, for one day more.

At one o’clock in the morning of the 2nd of December, Napoleon, having slept for an hour by a watch-fire, got on horseback, and proceeded to reconnoitre the front of his position.  He wished to do so without being recognised, but the soldiery penetrated the secret, and, lighting great fires of straw all along the line, received him from post to post with shouts of enthusiasm.  They reminded him that this was the anniversary of his coronation, and assured him they would celebrate the day in a manner worthy of its glory.  “Only promise us,” cried an old grenadier, “that you will keep yourself out of the fire.”  “I will do so,” answered Napoleon, “I shall be with the reserve until you need us.” This pledge, which so completely ascertains the mutual confidence of the leader and his soldiers, he repeated in a proclamation issued at daybreak.  The sun rose with uncommon brilliancy:  on many an after-day the French soldiery hailed a similar dawn with exultation as the sure omen of victory, and “the Sun of Austerlitz” has passed into a proverb.