The Emperor arrived at Paris on the 23d of January, and passed the
remainder of the winter there, with the exception of a few days spent at
Rambouillet and Saint-Cloud.
On the very day of his arrival in Paris, although he must have been much
fatigued by an almost uninterrupted ride from Valladolid, the Emperor
visited the buildings of the Louvre and the rue de Rivoli.
His mind was full of what he had seen at Madrid, and repeated suggestions
to M. Fontaine and the other architects showed plainly his desire to make
the Louvre the finest palace in the world. His Majesty then had a report
made him as to the chateau of Chambord, which he wished to present to the
Prince of Neuchatel. M. Fontaine found that repairs sufficient to make
this place a comfortable residence would amount to 1,700,000 francs, as
the buildings were in a state of decay, and it had hardly been touched
since the death of Marshal Sage.
His Majesty passed the two months and a half of his stay working in his
cabinet, which he rarely left, and always unwillingly; his amusements
being, as always, the theater and concerts. He loved music passionately,
especially Italian music, and like all great amateurs was hard to please.
He would have much liked to sing had he been able, but he had no voice,
though this did not prevent his humming now and then pieces which struck
his fancy; and as these little reminiscences usually recurred to him in
the mornings, he regaled me with them while he was being dressed. The
air that I have heard him thus mutilate most frequently was that of The
Marseillaise. The Emperor also whistled sometimes, but very rarely; and
the air, 'Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre', whistled by his Majesty was an
unerring announcement to me of his approaching departure for the army.
I remember that he never whistled so much, and was never so gay, as just
before he set out for the Russian campaign.
His Majesty's, favorite singer were Crescentini and Madame Grassini.
I saw Crescentini's debut at Paris in the role of Romeo, in Romeo and
Juliet. He came preceded by a reputation as the first singer of Italy;
and this reputation was found to be well deserved, notwithstanding all
the prejudices he had to overcome, for I remember well the disparaging
statements made concerning him before his debut at the court theater.
According to these self-appointed connoisseurs, he was a bawler without
taste, without method, a maker of absurd trills, an unimpassioned actor
of little intelligence, and many other things besides. He knew, when he
appeared on the stage, how little disposed in his favor his audience
were, yet he showed not the slightest embarrassment; this, and his noble,
dignified mien, agreeably surprised those who expected from what they had
been told to behold an awkward man with an ungainly figure. A murmur of
approbation ran through the hall on his appearance; and electrified by
this welcome, he gained all hearts from the first act. His movements
were full of grace and dignity; he had a perfect knowledge of the scene,
modest gestures perfectly in harmony with the dialogue, and a countenance
on which all shades of passion were depicted with the most astonishing
accuracy; and all these rare and precious qualities combined to give to
the enchanting accents of this artist a charm of which it is impossible
to give an idea.
At each scene the interest he inspired became more marked, until in the
third act the emotion and delight of the spectator were carried almost to
frenzy. In this act, played almost solely by Crescentini, this admirable
singer communicated to the hearts of his audience all that is touching
and, pathetic in a love expressed by means of delicious melody, and by
all that grief and despair can find sublime in song.
The Emperor was enraptured, and sent Crescentini a considerable
compensation, accompanied by most flattering testimonials of the pleasure
he had felt in hearing him.
On this day, as always when they played together afterwards, Crescentini
was admirably supported by Madame Grassini, a woman of superior talent,
and who possessed the most astonishing voice ever heard in the theater.
She and Madame Barilli then divided the admiration of the public.
The very evening or the day after the debut of Crescentini, the French
stage suffered an irreparable loss in the death of Dazincourt, only sixty
years of age. The illness of which he died had begun on his return from
Erfurt, and was long and painful; and yet the public, to whom this great
comedian had so long given such pleasure, took no notice of him after it
was found his sickness was incurable and his death certain. Formerly
when a highly esteemed actor was kept from his place for some time by
illness (and who deserved more esteem than Dazincourt?), the pit was
accustomed to testify its regret by inquiring every day as to the
condition of the afflicted one, and at the end of each representation the
actor whose duty it was to announce the play for the next day gave the
audience news of his comrade. This was not done for Dazincourt, and the
pit thus showed ingratitude to him.
I liked and esteemed sincerely Dazincourt, whose acquaintance I had made
several years before his death; and few men better deserved or so well
knew how to gain esteem and affection. I will not speak of his genius,
which rendered him a worthy successor of Preville, whose pupil and
friend he was, for all his contemporaries remember Figaro as played by
Dazincourt; but I will speak of the nobility of his character, of his
generosity, and his well-tested honor. It would seem that his birth and
education should have kept him from the theater, where circumstances
alone placed him; but he was able to protect himself against the
seductions of his situation, and in the greenroom, and in the midst of
domestic intrigues, remained a man of good character and pure manners.
He was welcomed in the best society, where he soon became a favorite by
his piquant sallies, as much as by his good manners and urbanity, for he
amused without reminding that he was a comedian.
At the end of February his Majesty went to stay for some time at the
palace of the Elysee; and there I think was signed the marriage contract
of one of his best lieutenants, Marshal Augereau, recently made Duke of
Castiglione, with Mademoiselle Bourlon de Chavanges, the daughter of an
old superior officer; and there also was rendered the imperial decree
which gave to the Princess Eliza the grand duchy of Tuscany, with the
title of grand duchess.
About the middle of March, the Emperor passed several days at
Rambouillet; there were held some exciting hunts, in one of which his
Majesty himself brought to bay and killed a stag near the pool of Saint-
Hubert. There was also a ball and concert, in which appeared
Crescentini, Mesdames Grassini, Barelli, and several celebrated
virtuosos, and lastly Talma recited.
On the 13th of April, at four o'clock in the morning, the Emperor having
received news of another invasion of Bavaria by the Austrians, set out
for Strasburg with the Empress, whom he left in that city; and on the
15th, at eleven o'clock in the morning, he passed the Rhine at the head
of his army. The Empress did not long remain alone, as the Queen of
Holland and her sons, the Grand Duchess of Baden and her husband, soon
joined her.
The splendid campaign of 1809 at once began. It is known how glorious it
was, and that one of its least glorious victories was the capture of
Vienna.
At Ratisbon, on the 23d of April, the Emperor received in his right foot
a spent ball, which gave him quite a severe bruise. I was with the
service when several grenadiers hastened to tell me that his Majesty was
wounded, upon which I hastened to him, and arrived while M. Yvan was
dressing the contusion. The Emperor's boot was cut open, and laced up,
and he remounted his horse immediately; and, though several of the
generals insisted on his resting, he only replied: "My friends, do you
not know that it is necessary for me to see everything?" The enthusiasm
of the soldiers cannot be expressed when they learned that their chief
had been wounded, though his wound was not dangerous. "The Emperor is
exposed like us," they said; "he is not a coward, not he." The papers
did not mention this occurrence.
Before entering a battle, the Emperor always ordered that, in case he was
wounded, every possible measure should be taken to conceal it from his
troops. "Who knows," said he, "what terrible confusion might be produced
by such news? To my life is attached the destiny of a great Empire.
Remember this, gentlemen; and if I am wounded, let no one know it, if
possible. If I am slain, try to win the battle without me; there will be
time enough to tell it afterwards."
Two weeks after the capture of Ratisbon, I was in advance of his Majesty
on the road to Vienna, alone in a carriage with an officer of the
household, when we suddenly heard frightful screams in a house on the
edge of the road. I gave orders to stop at once, and we alighted; and,
on entering the house, found several soldiers, or rather stragglers, as
there are in all armies, who, paying no attention to the alliance between
France and Bavaria, were treating most cruelly a family which lived in
this house, and consisted of an old grandmother, a young man, three
children, and a young girl.
Our embroidered coats had a happy effect on these madmen, whom we
threatened with the Emperor's anger; and we succeeded in driving them out
of the house, and soon after took our departure, overwhelmed with thanks.
In the evening I spoke to the Emperor of what I had done; and he approved
highly, saying, "It cannot be helped. There are always some cowardly
fellows in the army; and they are the ones who do the mischief. A brave
and good soldier would blush to do such things!"
I had occasion, in the beginning of these Memoirs, to speak of the
steward, M. Pfister, one of his Majesty's most faithful servants, and
also one of those to whom his Majesty was most attached. M. Pfister had
followed him to Egypt, and had faced countless dangers in his service.
The day of the battle of Landshut, which either preceded or followed very
closely the taking of Ratisbon this poor man became insane, rushed out of
his tent, and concealed himself in a wood near the field of battle, after
taking off all his clothing. At the end of a few hours his Majesty asked
for M. Pfister. He was sought for, and every one was questioned; but no
one could tell what had become of him. The Emperor, fearing that he
might have been taken prisoner, sent an orderly officer to the Austrians
to recover his steward, and propose an exchange; but the officer
returned, saying that the Austrians had not seen M. Pfister. The
Emperor, much disquieted, ordered a search to be made in the
neighborhood; and by this means the poor fellow was discovered entirely
naked, as I have said, cowering behind a tree, in a frightful condition,
his body torn by thorns. He was brought back, and having become
perfectly quiet, was thought to be well, and resumed his duties; but a
short time after our return to Paris he had a new attack. The character
of his malady was exceedingly obscene; and he presented himself before
the Empress Josephine in such a state of disorder, and with such indecent
gestures, that it was necessary to take precautions in regard to him.
He was confided to the care of the wise Doctor Esquirol, who, in spite of
his great skill, could not effect a cure. I went to see him often. He
had no more violent attacks; but his brain was diseased, and though he
heard and understood perfectly, his replies were those of a real madman.
He never lost his devotion to the Emperor, spoke of him incessantly, and
imagined himself on duty near him. One day he told me with a most
mysterious air that he wished to confide to me a terrible secret, the
plot of a conspiracy against his Majesty's life, handing me at the same
time a note for his Majesty, with a package of about twenty scraps of
paper, which he had scribbled off himself, and thought were the details
of the plot. Another time he handed me, for the Emperor, a handful of
little stones, which he called diamonds of great value. "There is more
than a million in what I hand you," said he. The Emperor, whom I told of
my visits, was exceedingly touched by the continued monomania of this
poor unfortunate, whose every thought, every act, related to his old
master, and who died without regaining his reason.
On the 10th of May, at nine o'clock in the morning, the first line of
defense of the Austrian capital was attacked and taken by Marshal Oudinot
the faubourgs surrendering at discretion. The Duke of Montebello then
advanced on the esplanade at the head of his division; but the gates
having been closed, the garrison poured a frightful discharge from the
top of the ramparts, which fortunately however killed only a very small
number. The Duke of Montebello summoned the garrison to surrender the
town, but the response of the Archduke Maximilian was that he would
defend Vienna with his last breath; which reply was conveyed to the
Emperor.
After taking counsel with his generals, his Majesty charged Colonel
Lagrange to bear a new demand to the archduke; but the poor colonel had
hardly entered the town than he was attacked by the infuriated populace.
General O'Reilly saved his life by having him carried away by his
soldiers; but the Archduke Maximilian, in order to defy the Emperor still
further, paraded in triumph in the midst of the national guard the
individual who has struck the first blow at the bearer of the French
summons. This attempt, which had excited the indignation of many of the
Viennese themselves, did not change his Majesty's intentions, as he
wished to carry his moderation and kindness as far as possible; and he
wrote to the archduke by the Prince of Neuchatel the following letter, a
copy of which accidentally fell into my hands:
"The Prince de Neuchatel to his Highness the Archduke Maximilian,
commanding the town of Vienna,
"His Majesty the Emperor and King desires to spare this large and
worthy population the calamities with which it is threatened, and
charges me to represent to your Highness, that if he continues the
attempt to defend this place, it will cause the destruction of one
of the finest cities of Europe. In every country where he has waged
war, my sovereign has manifested his anxiety to avoid the disasters
which armies bring on the population. Your Highness must be
persuaded that his Majesty is much grieved to see this town, which
he has the glory of having already saved, on the point of being
destroyed. Nevertheless, contrary to the established usage of
fortresses, your Highness has fired your cannon from the city walls,
and these cannon may kill, not an enemy of your sovereign, but the
wives or children of his most devoted servants. If your Highness
prolongs the attempt to defend the place, his Majesty will be
compelled to begin his preparations for attack; and the ruin of this
immense capital will be consummated in thirty-six hours, by the
shells and bombs from our batteries, as the outskirts of the town
will be destroyed by the effect of yours. His Majesty does not
doubt that these considerations will influence your Highness to
renounce a determination which will only delay for a short while the
capture of the place. If, however, your Highness has decided not to
pursue a course which will save the town from destruction, its
population plunged by your fault into such terrible misfortunes will
become, instead of faithful subjects, the enemies of your house."
This letter did not deter the grand duke from persisting in his defense;
and this obstinacy exasperated the Emperor to such a degree that he at
last gave orders to place two batteries in position, and within an hour
cannonballs and shells rained upon the town. The inhabitants, with true
German indifference, assembled on the hillsides to watch the effect of
the fires of attack and defense, and appeared much interested in the
sight. A few cannonballs had already fallen in the court of the Imperial
palace when a flag of truce came out of the town to announce that the
Archduchess Marie Louise had been unable to accompany her father, and was
ill in the palace, and consequently exposed to danger from the artillery;
and the Emperor immediately gave orders to change the direction of the
firing so that the bombs and balls would pass over the palace. The
archduke did not long hold out against such a sharp and energetic attack,
but fled, abandoning Vienna to the conquerors.
On the 12th of May the Emperor made his entrance into Vienna, one month
after the occupation of Munich by the Austrians. This circumstance made
a deep impression, and did much to foster the superstitious ideas which
many of the troops held in regard to the person of their chief. "See,"
said one, "he needed only the time necessary for the journey. That man
must be a god."--"He is a devil rather," said the Austrians, whose
stupefaction was indescribable. They had reached a point when many
allowed the arms to be taken out of their hands without making the least
resistance, or without even attempting to fly, so deep was their
conviction that the Emperor and his guard were not men, and that sooner
or later they must fall into the power of these supernatural enemies.