In the spring of 1806, Amédée Le Nourry, captain-adjutant-major in the 16th Dragoon Regiment, was posted on the banks of the Inn, near Passau, alongside Marshal Soult’s army corps.
Adjutant-major Le Nourry was an excellent officer with a keen understanding of his profession. Born on 8 July 1777 in Craconville near Evreux, he volunteered for the 19th Chasseurs on 31 March 1794, and had served in every campaign, earning his lieutenant’s and captain’s epaulettes on the battlefields of Modena and Trebia. He had just participated in the campaign in Germany, but was not involved in any significant affairs. Even at Austerlitz, his regiment, held in reserve, did not engage in battle. Therefore, however eager he was to return to France, our captain was not displeased to notice that the withdrawal of the Grande Armée was taking place with a slowness that was certainly calculated and which perhaps allowed some surprises. Were they still going to fight, and where and against whom? It did not matter, as long as the war was a source of glory and profit.
And it was without sorrow, with just the right amount of regret, that Amédée announced to his sister – or rather to his sisters, for there were three of them, Adèle, Henriette and Nadine – that his return and their subsequent reunion seemed rather awkward.
To Mademoiselle Adèle Le Nourry, Evreux.
Scharding, 5 April 1806.
For two reasons, my dear Adèle, I had ceased to write to you: firstly, your silence led me to believe that all three of you were dead, and it is quite useless to write to the deceased. Then I wanted to tell you about our departure, which we were expecting any minute. The postal service is running very smoothly; all the letters reach us, and I was therefore surprised and even very worried not to receive any from you. Finally, yesterday, on my way back from Regensburg (Ratisbon), where I was in the company of my colonel and two other comrades, I received your letter, which I thought was very short considering it had travelled from so far away.
Regensburg is the oldest city in Germany, and you know that the ripples of advanced age are rarely pleasant; consequently, apart from the gathering of the various officials of the Diet and the Archchancellor’s court, it is hardly worthy of attention; yet for us, my dear Adèle, who spend our lives in villages and only pass through the cities, this is the promised land.
Of the four Bavarian women, all proper ladies, who did us the honour of eating supper with us, one bore a striking resemblance to Miss Desfourneaux. Because of the resemblance I declared myself her knight; tell Mademoiselle Desfourneaux, she will be flattered.
Yesterday I also received news from Nourry. (1) He told me that he has just been appointed colonel; he also must have informed you; I cannot tell you how pleased I was, you experienced it as I did. Do not blame Colonel Clément if my promotion is not as rapid as you would like. Few senior officers are drawn from the cavalry; almost all of them come from the Emperor’s household and the staffs; those who are selected from the corps must be well-known and recommended.
I have got all this into my head so well that ambition or the desire for promotion, which is the same thing, does not bother me at all. I am content in the regiment, my colonel and my comrades are fond of me, and I am delighted to await the epaulette of squadron commander.
Moreover, I have experienced an unpleasant campaign: not only have I not been involved in any brilliant affairs, but also the two horses I had bought at Ulm were taken from me in the cantonments of Upper Austria about two months ago. The general of division, against practice and justice, opposed the repayment of my horses, with the result that I would still be on foot. I am riding my colonel’s horses until I can find my own mount. Fortunately we are not spending any money, and with these savings I hope to buy horses either to return to the countryside or to France. Except for this unfortunate event, I would have been well above my station, and on arriving in Paris I would have been able to spend some time with you, which has long been my preferred idea.
Nourry has promised me a horse, but I do not know where I shall reach him in order that he may be able to provide it for me. We expect to stay in this country longer than we expected. Braunau, which was to be occupied by the Austrians on the 4th, is still occupied by the French, who continue to fortify it, and several pieces of artillery, which were on the march for France, have retrograded to be deployed in Braunau. Therefore, all my dreams of magnificent castles in Spain on our return to France are ready to cave in and we are getting ready to fight; we do not know against whom, or in what theatre of war. In my position, although it would give me great pleasure to return to my homeland and especially to my little sisters, I would not be displeased to serve in a war where one can gain glory and money, with the advantage of not being in need of either.
Farewell, my dear Adèle, write to me often and do not be afraid of wasting your time in doing so, as few letters are lost. I send my love to all three of you; a thousand regards to my godfather, and my respects to all the ladies of Evreux whom I adore.
Life in the cantonments was not at all unpleasant for the soldiers. They rested, were accommodated and fed at the inhabitants’ expense, spent nothing and received only part of their pay, the remainder of which was to be deducted from them on their return to France. The minor German princes considered the presence of our troops to be a blessing, because although it weighed heavily on their subjects, it safeguarded them against the violence and rapacity of their powerful neighbours such as the King of Bavaria, the Grand Duke of Baden and the King of Württemberg, who were far more formidable than Russian pillagers. For the most part, the French were good-natured, a little boisterous, somewhat proud of their recent victories, yet sociable and easy-going. Their hosts would have found them charming, had it not been for the unfortunate obligation to provide for their subsistence, about which, as we shall see, they only complained discreetly:
Kellheim on the Danube, 23 April 1806.
You must already have received the reply to your letter of 17 March and be reassured by what I tell you about the accuracy of the post office’s handling of the letters you write to me from now on. I have also just received your letter of 7 April, in which you announce the marriage of Adèle Desfourneaux: you do not mention the name of the groom.
If for your part you are entertaining ideas about my return, my imagination is no less active in creating some on the same subject while I wander with my musket, sometimes on the banks of the Danube, sometimes on the banks of the Altmühl, which flows into the Danube very close to the town, which is indeed the most dreadful place, populated by the ugliest, poorest inhabitants of Germany. It is there that we await the order to return to France or to embark on another war. The alternative is, according to my impatient nature, the most unpleasant position.
Our life in the cantonments is really pleasant. Our horses and ourselves live off our hosts; we give each other meals in each other’s quarters, always at the expense of the bumpkins. Woe betide those who are billeting the colonel, who, apart from me who is lodging with him, has a large household: a cook, two valets and fifteen or twenty horses. All the officers who are with the rest of the regiment in all the villages around headquarters often come to see him, and never leave without having dinner. Fortunately, they did not come early enough for lunch, which was always copious and à la fourchette.
These unfortunate inhabitants are so accustomed to this way of life and to these vexations that they rarely complain, and when they do, they are so well received that they do not return on the matter. There are perhaps 100,000 of us here as guests of our good friends the Bavarians, who, in spite of the inconvenience we cause them, will be upset to see us leave, so fearful are they of the return of the Russians. How I would pity you, my dear little sisters, if you were obliged to receive the staff of an Austrian regiment at Craconville: it is not that they would not pity you as much as you do, and they would surely include you in the list of unpleasant lodgings and never leave.
Your letters are always hopelessly short; you barely write a word to me …
I have in my room a rather poor engraving of the cathedral of Paris, on a plan large enough to include the end of the rue Saint-Christophe and probably the house of Miss Rotrou. ‘She is there’, I often exclaimed, ‘my dear Sophie must be there or at the Magdeleine!’ What is certain is that she is in my heart. Do not say anything to her, you would only torment her.
I read in the newspapers that the prefect had changed again and that the second had left for Rouen.
You hardly know how to arrange your affairs. You have not written to me about Alexandre, nor does he write to me.
Goodbye, my dear little ones, I embrace you and love you.
P. S. – Gauthier is always the same good chap with the colonel; he often asks me for news of you young ladies.
Haugwitz had always been in favour of the alliance with France; in the present circumstances, he was aware of the imprudence of his country. He appealed to Napoleon to evacuate the positions he occupied in Franconia, on the Saxon frontier, within reach of Prussia. Napoleon might have agreed. He had had a vast camp built at Meudon to accommodate the Grande Armée, to whom he intended to stage ‘triumphal celebrations’ in September. The death of the British minister Fox suddenly dashed the chances of peace; Tsar Alexander, Britain’s ally, rejected the treaty submitted for his signature. Napoleon, irritated, refused to withdraw his troops. The King of Prussia, swayed by opinion, left for Magdeburg (21 September). This was the signal for war.
Three days later, on the night of 24 to 25 September, Napoleon set off in his turn for Metz and Mainz, where he arrived on the 28th. On the 29th, he ordered Murat to proceed to Würzburg, to prepare the citadel to resist a coup de main, and to guard the border with his cavalry. On 7 October, he ordered the marshal to move his headquarters to Kronach. On the same day, Le Nourry announced to his sisters his entry into the field:
Gurbach, 7 October 1806, two leagues from Bamberg.
I am writing to you with my foot in the stirrup, my dear little sisters. We are waiting every moment for the order to embark on the campaign against the Prussians. The Emperor arrived this morning at Bamberg, where a very large part of the army is assembled: it has never been so magnificent or so powerful; therefore it ardently desires to be led to Berlin as it was brought to Vienna. I will rarely write to you, as I presume that we will be on the march for a very long time, and that there will be very little time left for pleasure.
I left Sulzbach about a fortnight ago, and not without the keenest regret, despite my wonderful plans. A fourteen-year-old girl, as beautiful as love itself, had upset all my wise resolutions. Antoinette, that was her name, mourned my departure in front of her mother, her brother, her friends and even all her classmates. How could my heart and my self-esteem have remained insensitive to such proofs of attachment? I have written to her mother twice since my departure, but our constant marches have prevented me from receiving any replies.
Nourry is at Scheintart, in General Lefebvre’s corps. Always write to me at the same address. Goodbye, my dear little sisters.
The next day, operations began, and laughter and thoughts of tender adventures were over; our captain was to gallop after Murat and take part in the remarkable expedition known as the ‘infernal march’.
After the battle of Jena and the rout of the Prussian army, the marshal sent some of his dragoons to the Potsdam depot to replenish their ranks. Our officer entered Berlin with the 16th Dragoon Regiment, where a pleasant surprise awaited him:
Berlin, 4 November 1806.
The regiment moved back today towards Berlin, which we had skirted the first time without entering. We had moved eight leagues beyond, towards the Oder, to Prenzlow (Prenzlau), where the division captured so many prisoners, both cavalry, infantry and artillery, that the six regiments which compose it were barely sufficient to escort them.
At last we entered Berlin today, and before I describe the beauty of the city in any detail, I would like to inform you of a minor detail which will not fail to interest you in some way. The Emperor reviewed the regiments of the division. When he arrived at my regiment, and after a short conversation with my colonel, he called for me, asked me how long I had been serving and whether I had always been with the 16th Dragoons. After answering him, he said: ‘Make him a squadron commander and acknowledge him immediately’. Yes, my little sisters, your wishes have been fulfilled: I have climbed the elusive ladder, and my appointment is accompanied by some quite extraordinary circumstances. In Berlin, in the square of the palace of the Great Frederick, appointed by the Emperor himself, acknowledged in the midst of his entire court, and above all at a time when I was least expecting it, as there was no position vacant in the regiment. I did not think that Mr. Peiset, squadron commander, was going to be appointed major. In the end, my astonishment was as great as it was pleasant.
Twenty-two cavalry regiments, including mine, stood in reserve at the battle of Jena and did not engage in battle. The division was led the next day to Erfurt, whose garrison surrendered after a few rounds of cannon fire. We then moved on to Berlin, which we left on our right, and made our way to Prenzlow, where an enemy corps, commanded by Prince Hohenlohe, with 10,000 men, 3,000 horse and fifty-three guns, surrendered to a corps of 4,000 cavalry. The brigade to which the regiment belonged charged three times in succession a battalion of grenadiers commanded by Prince August, which our artillery had managed to separate from General Hohenlohe’s corps. This battalion demonstrated more spirit, even though it occupied a plain and was hounded by three regiments; it maintained its composure until the arrival of our artillery, whereupon it laid down its arms. Prince August, the son of Prince Ferdinand, aged twenty-six and brother of Prince Louis, was killed at the battle of Saalfeld.
There you have it, a concise account of our campaign; you can appreciate how I experienced very few dangers. We had a limited number of opportunities to attack an enemy that was always on the run. Only at Prenzlow did we lose a few horses. I spent twenty-eight hours on horseback with the regiment, always at the bivouac, eating very little but with a great appetite. However, today everything is forgotten; I am well accommodated. I have not had the time to familiarise myself with my hostesses, I have only made the acquaintance of the cook.
Yesterday I received a letter from you at Potsdam. I visited the home of the Great Frederick, where everything indicates it is the residence of a sovereign; there is not enough time for me to describe it to you. It is said that we may leave for Poland tonight.
Berlin is a superb city, with charming streets, splendid new houses and pleasant architecture.
Farewell, my dear little sisters, I do not have time to talk to you any longer. Nourry is doing well; I saw him after the battle of Jena and at Prenzlow, and he is doing marvellously well. Ask Alexander about my promotion and tell the many friends to whom I am unable to write.
A thousand regards to my godfather.
As Le Nourry predicted, military operations were indeed about to shift to Poland, the defeated King of Prussia having refused the armistice offered to him by Napoleon, and ‘having thrown himself into the arms of the Russians’.
Notes
(1) Amédée’s elder brother, colonel of the 2nd Regiment of Foot Artillery. He had a second brother, Alexandre, a captain in the same branch, who is also mentioned in his correspondence.
Source : Arthur Chuquet, Edmond Hue, ‘Les dragons de Murat pendant la campagne de Prusse – I’, in Feuilles d’histoire, volume VIII, July-December 1912, pp. 491-502.
Other accounts to read:
> Two letters of beau sabreur Jean-Baptiste Guindey, 1805-1807 …
> Dominique Ravy in Prussia, 1806 …
> An infantry officer’s recollections on the battle of Jena …
Jonas De Neef's Napoleon Chronicles 