In the game of national chess, Poland thus became a mere pawn on the board. From any moral point of view such a policy is infamous. And the indignation of the historian is deepened when he is forced to add that Napoleon’s conduct was but an imitation of the statecraft of former times, just as similar infamies of the present day are imitations of time-honored precedents of kings and cabinets. Cavour one day exclaimed, “What rascals we should be if we did for ourselves what we are doing for our country!” He was referring to some especially dirty work (dirt and blood being copiously mixed), which he had been doing in copartnership with Napoleon III. in bringing about Italian independence. The confession is worth remembering. Christian civilization has certainly reached a curious pass when its leading statesmen admit that in statecraft they are continually doing things which would disgrace them as private citizens. In the _Memoirs_ of the Princess Potocka there is a vivid picture of the Polish situation in the winter of 1807, the writer being in Warsaw at the time. “The 21st of November, in the morning, the arrival of a French regiment was announced. How shall I describe the enthusiasm with which it was received? To understand such emotions properly one must have lost everything and believe in the possibility of hoping for everything--like ourselves. This handful of warriors, when they set feet on our soil, seemed to us a guarantee of the independence we were expecting at the hands of the great man whom nothing could resist. “The popular intoxication was at its height: the whole town was lit up as if by magic. That day, forsooth, the town authorities had no need to allot quarters to the new arrivals. People fought for them, carried them off, vied with each other in treating them best. Those of the citizens who knew no French, not being able to make themselves understood, borrowed the dumb language which belongs to all countries, and by signs of delight, handshakings, and bursts of glee made their guests comprehend that they freely offered all their houses contained, _cellars included_. “Tables were even laid in the streets and squares. Toasts were drunk to Napoleon, to his Grand Army, to the Independence of Poland. There was hugging and kissing, and a little too much drinking.” Next day came dashing Murat and his brilliant staff, with braided uniforms, gold and silver lace, nodding plumes of red, white, and blue, and a good deal of rattle and bang, fuss and bustle, generally. A noisy cavalier was Murat, ostentatious, boastful, full of the reminiscences of his own meteoric career.