These sentiments, and all sentiments likely in their consequences to be injurious to the cause of Napoleon, the conduct of the Conqueror in Prussia, at this time of national humiliation and sorrow, was well calculated to strengthen and confirm.  The Duke of Brunswick, retiring wounded from Jena to the capital of his own hereditary principality, addressed a letter from thence to Napoleon, requesting that the territory of Brunswick might not be confounded with that of Prussia, although he, as an individual, had appeared in Prussian uniform against him.  Buonaparte answered with insolence as well as harshness.  He styled the Duke “General Brunswick,” and said he was determined to destroy his city, and displace his family for ever.  The brave, though unfortunate Duke, retired on this to Altona, a Danish town, from which he meant to embark for England; but his wound being inflamed by these untimely movements, he died ere a vessel could be prepared for him.  His son, considering him as murdered, vowed eternal revenge—­and how he kept his vow, we shall see hereafter.  The Prussian nobility and gentry were treated on almost every occasion with like brutality.  The great Conqueror did not hesitate to come down from his dignity for the petty pleasure of personally insulting gentlemen, who had done him no injury except that of being loyal to their own prince.  The exactions of the victorious military were beyond all former example of licence; and studied contempt was everywhere mingled with their rapacity.  It was now that the French laid the foundation of that universal hatred with which the Prussian nation, in the sequel, regarded them, and which assumed everywhere the virulence of a private and personal passion.

In justice to Buonaparte, a solitary instance of generous conduct, which occurred ere he had been long in Berlin, must be noticed.  The Prince of Hatzsfeld, continuing to reside in Berlin under his protection, corresponded, nevertheless, with Hohenlohe, then in the field, and sent information of the state and movements of the French army.  One of his letters fell into the hands of the French—­the Prince was arrested—­his wife gained access to the Emperor, and, ignorant of her husband’s conduct, spoke with the boldness of innocence in his favour.  He handed to her the Prince’s letter; and, confounded with the clearness of that evidence, she fell on her knees in silence.  “Put the paper in the fire, madam,” said Napoleon, “and there will then be no proof.”

Perhaps no part of Buonaparte’s conduct at this time gave more general disgust than his meanness in robbing the funeral monument of Frederick the Great of his sword and orders.  These unworthy trophies he transmitted to Paris, along with the best statues and pictures of the galleries of Berlin and Potsdam, thus dealt with according to the example of Lombardy and Venice.

[Footnote 53:  Published 27th July, 1806.]

[Footnote 54:  Afterwards third Marquis of Hertford.]