e 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,