I arrived without mishap at the Tuileries on February 27, where I was received by the Emperor. I found him sitting at a small table, with a pretty child of three years old on his knee. They were very happily eating their breakfast out of one plate. The Emperor congratulated me on there being no trace of the wound which he had been told had disfigured me, and listened with great interest to every detail of the siege and surrender of Saragossa. He asked about the health of the Marshal and the state of the army, and expressed a regret which did him honour at the loss of his aide-de-camp, Lacoste. He even instructed me to convey a message of sympathy from him to the widow, and to tell her that he should continue to her the annuity of fifty thousand francs he had given to her husband.

During our conversation the Emperor fondled the child on his knee a good deal. It was the eldest son of his brother Louis, King of Holland, who had married Marie Hortense de Beauharnais, daughter of the Empress Josephine. The marked tenderness shown for this little nephew, who was a graceful taking boy, led us to think that Napoleon intended him to inherit the throne he had founded; at least there was a rumour to that effect in Paris at this time. After his frugal repast the Emperor, as was his custom, took some coffee without sugar, and the child stretched out his pretty little hands to seize the cup and drink some coffee too, but he pushed it away with a wry face when he found how bitter the contents were. The Emperor said to him, laughing, ‘Ah, your education is not complete yet; you don’t know how to disguise your feelings.’ I thought these words significant.

The Emperor promoted me to be Colonel of Engineers, and I took the oath of allegiance according to the form then adopted. Great éclat was always given to the ceremony of taking the oath, with a view to binding more closely together the officers of the army and the chief of the great empire they had aided in founding. Those newly promoted were summoned one by one to the throne room, where the great officers of the Crown were grouped about the Emperor. As we entered we saluted three times in the style taught us by M. Gardel, superintendent of the opera ballets, to whom we had been sent to take a lesson beforehand. This lesson had amused us very much, but it failed to give the supple grace of courtiers to most of us, who remained rough soldiers and republicans to boot to the last. When we had learnt to draw back the right foot gracefully, as we respectfully bowed the head and shoulders, we entered the Tuileries and marched proudly into the throne room towards the noble and dignified assembly, to take, in presence of the Emperor, the oath of fidelity to him, which was read out to us by the Duke of Bassano. The clumsiness of some of us in making a salute to which we were little accustomed, made it difficult for the solemn audience to keep from bursting out laughing, which would have been very prejudicial to the dignity of the ceremony.

The succeeding days were passed in brilliant festivities. The Emperor, often weary of living in state, was very fond of disguising himself with a black domino at masked balls, and sometimes he had the pleasure of not being recognised. The Arch-Chancellor, who was always anxious to please his sovereign, gave a good many of these fêtes, at which his pretty niece, Mlle. Busterèche, who later became Mme. Lavollée, helped him to do the honours. These balls, at which everything was on a scale of imperial lavishness, were full of the most piquant attractions for the young, and made up to a great extent for all the privations and losses of the war.

The Empress Josephine, who was losing hope of giving the Emperor a son, had now laid aside the rôle of a young and pretty woman, to take up that of grandmother to the sweet child the Emperor was so fond of. Few women excelled her in that grace which many prefer to beauty, because it is far more durable. The Empress knew only too well how difficult it would be for her to retain the affections of a husband younger than herself, and she spared no pains to make his home attractive to him by constantly varying such pleasures as were likely to bind him to it. Far from betraying any jealousy, she gracefully sacrificed her own amour-propre, and surrounded herself with the most remarkable young women of the day. She summoned the most famous artists of the day to the concerts at Malmaison, including the celebrated Mme. Grassini, as much admired for her beauty of form and face, and for her wit, as for her fine contralto voice; and the great soprano, Crescentini, with other stars of the Italian Theatre. Inspired, no doubt, by their brilliant audience, these talented musicians excelled themselves in the force and beauty of their renderings of their beautiful themes, and Zingarelli’s touching music was never more greatly appreciated by the public than in the scenes of despair between Romeo and Juliet, which were represented before the Court by most skilful actors. Talma, who wore, like the rest of us, the Court costume of the time, gave, with the help of his wife, a few scenes from ‘Othello,’ filling us with terror, and impressing us with all the greater horror because they were acted without any of the paraphernalia of a theatre, which would have given them something of unreality. They were rendered with such truth to nature, in the very midst of us, that each one felt as if he were looking on at an actual tragedy, and we were all deeply affected. Then we were allowed to breathe freely again, for we repaired to the dancing rooms, whilst later the most recherché supper renewed our ardour, making us forget in the delights of the dance and of the table the fact that the sun had risen some hours before. Just a few whist tables were scattered about at these gatherings, but I never saw any one use them, except a few of the elder and more distinguished diplomatists, such as the Austrian Envoy, Von Cobenzel; the Baden Ambassador, Von Terret; the Marquis de Suchesini, representative of Italy, and Prince Talleyrand.

During one of the evenings I passed at Malmaison the Empress begged me in a very gracious and touching manner to make a copy for her of my picture of the Bivouac at Austerlitz, which had attracted crowds at the Salon, and had been placed in the Diana Gallery of the Tuileries by the Emperor. The Empress already foresaw the coming divorce, and though of course she did not confide her premonition to me, it was evident that she wished in her future isolation to have about her any portraits and souvenirs she could collect of the husband she loved. I promised to make the copy, but the new war prevented me from having time to do it.

In the beautiful palace, later the residence of the celebrated banker and politician Lafitti, but at this time occupied by Queen Hortense, that lady gave to all the festivities a character at once piquant and refined. The charming grace of the mistress of the house pervaded everything; rather fascinating than beautiful, and secure of pleasing all who were brought under her influence, she gathered about her a delightful circle. The leaders of the army, the ministers and indeed all the chief men of the Empire, had married young and beautiful women who formed part of the Court of the Empress. The beauty of these young brides and the richness of their toilettes added fresh lustre to the brilliant fêtes presided over by Queen Hortense, and it was a delight to meet at them such ladies as the Duchesses of Bassano, Vicenza, Montebello, Elchingen, Abrantes, and Rovigo, with the Countesses of Duchatel, Reille, Barral, Saint-Martin, Renaud-de-Saint- Jean -d’Angely, Visconti, Lambert, Mathieu, Favier, Mathis, Pélaprat, Gazani, &c.

Amongst those who added fresh lustre to the circle of Queen Hortense, I must mention specially the graceful young bride of General de Broc. This interesting and remarkable couple were, alas! fated to have but a short life. It might well have been said of their home that it was one of those rare spots on this earth of ours in which the joys of the innocent and the pure could still be enjoyed. General de Broc was killed in battle, and Queen Hortense was devoted to his young widow, but her friend was torn from her one day in a most tragic manner when they were out walking together. The two ladies were crossing a plank spanning the Cascade de Grézy in Savoy, and the Queen went boldly over without accident, quite undisturbed by the noise of the rushing water beneath. Madame de Broc, however, in following her, hesitated, her foot slipped, and she fell into the gulf below and was in an instant lost to sight. In her despair the Queen ran back and was ready to fling herself over after her. Efforts were made with pitchforks to rescue the victim of the terrible accident, but the fear of wounding her was so great that nothing resulted but the tearing of her clothes, and the body was not recovered until life had long been extinct. Full of sorrowful regret, the Queen founded a hospital and erected a tomb near the scene of the catastrophe in memory of her friend, inscribing on it: ‘Here Madame la Baronne de Broc, aged twenty-five years, perished in sight of her friend. Oh all you who visit this spot, think of those who love you and be careful how you attempt to cross this abyss!’ When the misfortune happened, all Paris was deeply afflicted; but such is the life of great cities that only a few hearts continued to grieve, pleasures of one kind or another soon consoled the rest.

Meanwhile the Emperor of Austria had ordered the calling out of so many men, that the army of the Archduke Charles was raised to a strength of 300,000, and its organisation had been completed by the promotion of a great many generals. The news from Germany was becoming urgent, but the Emperor, anxious to throw the odium of beginning the hostilities, which would break the peace so useful to Europe, upon Austria, gave no orders to his own troops in Germany, which would have betrayed his desire to be ready to recommence the war; on the contrary, he did everything in his power to encourage his enemies to suppose that we were living in perfect security, and that it would be quite easy to surprise us. The Austrian Ambassador, Prince Metternich, continued to treat with us as if we were at peace; but the Emperor, true to his policy of forcing the Court of Vienna to take the initiative, never relaxed his vigilance, and was often found bending over his maps studying the chances of the war he knew to be about to break out.

On the very day when Marshal Victor brought the news of the victory of Ciudad Real, the Emperor was exercising at Paris that best of all royal prerogatives, the remission of capital sentences. The laws of the Republic condemned to death emigrants taken with arms in their hands fighting against France, and a French lieutenant-general, the Comte de Saint-Simon, had been made prisoner leading Spanish troops in a fight near Madrid. He was dragged before a court-martial, and the sentence of death was about to be carried out. The more generous the Emperor had been in allowing emigrants to return, the more severely had he punished those who added to his difficulties in pacifying France by joining those who were fighting against her. It really did seem necessary in this case to make an emphatic example. For several days the Emperor resisted all appeals on behalf of the condemned, but at last, having decided to remit the sentence, he allowed the Empress Josephine, the protectress of all the unfortunate, to present to him the daughter of the condemned Count. The young girl flung herself at the feet of the Emperor, and bathed with her tears the hands stretched out to raise her, when her petition for the life of her father was granted. This act of clemency had a far better effect in France than the carrying out of the punishment would have had.

I was now occupied all day at Prince Berthier’s quarters in marking with pins on our maps the position of all the troops we had in Germany, and of the reinforcements on their way to join them, with that of the stores of provisions, forage, shoes, &c., the parks of artillery and transport wagons, and even those movements of the enemy which we had been able to ascertain. The various corps represented by movable pins with different-coloured heads on the maps of Germany, the Tyrol and Italy, looked very like the chessmen on a board whose movements we could combine as they took it in turn to play. This guess-work prepared us for the more serious operations we were presently to undertake on the ground represented on our maps. There was no time now for me to go on with my painting and fix on canvas my memories of the army, but my enthusiasm for the art was kept up by constant visits to the chief French painters of the day, such as Regnaud, Vincent, David, and the worthy pupils of the last-named, my friends Gorodet, Gros, and Gerard, whose work did so much to spread the renown of the great deeds of the Empire. Gerard, whose business capacity was equal to his talent, had already made his fortune, and he and his wife, the pretty fascinating Roman girl he had married when a student in her native city, entertained at their dinners and receptions the chief celebrities of the day, including Corvisart, the Emperor’s skilful physician; the clever chemists Fourier and Berthollet; Cuvier, whose name alone means more than any adjective we could use in connection with it; Monge, the profound geometrician; Von Humboldt, the illustrious traveller; Guérin, the sympathetic painter of ‘Æneas and Dido;’ Talma; Mlle. Georges, Mlle. Mars, with many others. My friendship with the great artists of the day and the good advice they were generous enough to give me were of service to me in helping me to remove the chief defects of my early works, and render them more worthy of being offered to the public. They themselves, indeed, welcomed a brother artist who had been able, without exposing them to any of the dangers of war, to give them in his painting some idea of the many interesting scenes he had witnessed.

The weather was now dreadfully bad, a continuous downpour of rain had damaged all the roads by which we had to return to the campaign, and swollen the Danube to such an extent that the ravages made by its waters were greater than had been known for more than a century. All this had doubtless delayed the Austrians from assuming the aggressive. But the decisive moment was approaching, and the Emperor was watching for it in the Tuileries. A series of signals arranged by Guillerninot from Passau and Munich to the telegraph office at Strasburg, were to announce to him in a few hours that the time had arrived for him to leave Paris and place himself at the head of the army.

The chief French corps were those under Marshal Davout, occupying Würzburg, Bamberg, Nuremberg, and Ratisbon, and the Emperor stationed the Bavarian army around and beyond Munich, giving the command to Marshal Lefebvre. Marshal Masséna started for Ulm and Augsburg with 40,000 men, Marshal Bernadotte took command at Dresden of the Saxon army, joining it to the troops under General Dupas, the Würtembergers gathered together at Elwingen, and the Polish army under Prince Poniatowski was to threaten Cracow, whilst the Russian division under Suvoroff (son of the great general who had aided the Austrians against the French in Italy in 1799) was also to enter Galicia.

Having thus made every preparation for a brilliant attack all along the Danube, the Emperor gave his final orders on March 31 to the Prince of Neuchâtel, sending him to take command of the army till he arrived to do so in person. The Prince took me with him in his carriage, and also his two secretaries, the estimable Baron Leduc and the indefatigable Salomon, whose special business it was to look after the movements of the troops, and who, though he had been badly wounded and still had a ball in his thigh, never remitted his arduous efforts by day or by night.

The roads were not then what they are now, smooth and easy to drive over, but very irregular paving stones inflicted positive torture on travellers whose carriages had not easy springs, and the best constructed vehicles were often broken. This was in fact our fate at the gates of Epernay; for though we had paid our postboys very highly to make our carriage dash over the ground at furious speed, it was broken close to the charming source of the Sillery, and much to our regret we had time whilst our vehicle was being repaired to breakfast at Epernay and taste the wine of the district.

At Metz the Prince reviewed the troops which were on their way to Germany, and on the third day we arrived at Strasburg. In 1788, when I was a child, it had taken the Marshal de Contades, then Governor of Alsace, eight days to post the 100 leagues between Paris and Strasburg, and now in 1843 I can do the 200 leagues between Paris and Toulouse with the mails in forty-four hours without being jolted or meeting with any obstacles. This difference, with the way in which distances have been everywhere bridged over, shows the wisdom of the immense expense incurred by the State in the improvement of every branch of the public service.

The Levis, Jewish merchants at Strasburg, made me pay a very high price for the six horses and the carriages I was obliged to buy for the campaign. I directed my servants to go to Ratisbon with those of the Prince and of his staff, whilst I myself accompanied him in his inspection of the fortifications of Kehl and of the troops on their way to join the army. On the ninth day these preliminary tasks were all achieved, and the Commander-in-Chief let me rejoin him in his carriage to go with him to Donauwerth on the Danube.

Prince Berthier now found himself placed for several days in a position of most onerous responsibility, for he was provisional Commander-in-Chief with precise contingent orders, which did not as yet apply to the state of things in the districts in which he found himself.

His first care was to press on the march of the troops and of the convoys, and to ensure their reaching their destination without hindrance. This important work detained him at Strasburg till April 11, and everything indicated that the enemy, drawn up between Passau, Branau, and Salzburg on the other side of the Inn, was ready to cross that river.

In fact, the Prince heard on the way that on the 10th the Court of Bavaria and Marshal Lefebvre had received from the Archduke Charles the following letter, dated from head quarters, April 9, 1809:

‘In accordance with a declaration from his Majesty the Emperor of Austria to the Emperor Napoleon, I beg to inform the Commander-in-Chief of the French army that I have orders to advance with the troops under my orders, and that I shall treat as enemies all who offer me any resistance.

                                                              (Signed) ‘CHARLES.’

Several proclamations addressed to the Bavarians urging then to join the Austrian army accompanied this letter. After sending this simple notice by one of his aides-de-camp, the Archduke crossed the Inn. On the approach of his army the Bavarian troops drew back upon Munich, whilst the whole of the Royal Family left that city and retired beyond the Danube. On the 13th we arrived at Döllingen at the same time as the King and Queen of Bavaria. The Royal Family and their Court were alike grieved and anxious, and Prince Berthier had to do his best to reassure them, telling them from the Emperor that he promised to avenge the aggression, and very soon to make the King of Bavaria, at the expense of Austria, more powerful than he had ever been before.

The Archduke, uncertain as to his plan of campaign, which he had had to modify several times against his will, only advanced some six leagues in six days in a hesitating manner by way of the right bank of the Danube opposite the Bavarians, whilst on the left bank his advanced posts from Bohemia met the French on the 13th at Amberg and Hirshem. Our divisions had orders to fall back upon Ingolstadt and Kelheim, leaving at Ratisbon only one division of infantry and one corps of cavalry as advance guards to the army on the two banks. They would thus be able to retire in case of need on one side or the other according to circumstances. When he arrived at Donauwerth on the 14th, Prince Berthier heard at the same time of the advance of the Austrians by way of Bohemia, and of the attack on the Bavarians. In the intense anxiety which these movements caused him, the Marshal feared that we might lose the advantages offered to us by the Ingolstadt and Ratisbon bridges, and he ordered Marshal Davout and General Oudinot to support each other in bearing down upon Ratisbon by both banks, so as to retain that town and command these two passages across the Danube as bases for the later operations of the Emperor. This manœuvre was not without inconvenience, since it laid bare our left wing on one side of the Tyrol, and destroyed the parallelism of our order of battle with that of the enemy.

On the 15th, however, Prince Berthier went to Augsburg to confer with Marshal Masséna, returning to Donauwerth on the 16th. On the same day Jellachich entered Munich and attacked Masséna’s right. The anxiety of Prince Berthier now became greater than ever, and it grieved me very much to see a man who was always so calm and courageous under fire, and whom no personal danger could intimidate, trembling and sinking beneath the weight of responsibility thrown on him now. It was not the enemy he feared; he would rather have been killed than compromise the position of his General, whom he might be exposing to the risk of the loss of a battle by hazarding combinations of which he was not sure the Emperor would approve. In this harassing perplexity we had during four days and nights to go constantly backwards and forwards between Ingolstadt and Donauwerth, so as to be always on the spot where the danger was greatest.

Fortunately the Archduke Charles, expecting to meet a very formidable enemy, hesitated as much as we did, advancing slowly and settling on no definite plan, thus giving time for our troops to come up and the Emperor to arrive.

The Emperor, informed in Paris on the evening of April 12 of what was going on, started that same night with the Empress Josephine, and leaving her at Strasburg reached Donauwerth on the 18th. The position of Prince Berthier was immediately changed. The army had no longer for its head a man overwhelmed with powers too great for him, acting for another whose combinations he was afraid of upsetting, but it was commanded by the Emperor himself, that skilful generalissimo, who resumed the leadership of an army ready for battle, who in a moment detected the weak and strong points of his adversary, and did not hesitate to begin the attack. A great struggle between two illustrious chiefs was now to begin.

The campaign of 1809 was indeed the grandest spectacle offered to the world during the all too short duration of the Empire, and I count myself fortunate not only to have been one of the actors in the fine drama, but also to have survived to record with the brush and with the pen what I witnessed.

On April 18 several volleys of artillery announced to the army the arrival of the Emperor, who greeted his troops in the following finely conceived and inspiring proclamation:

‘Soldiers! the territory of the Confederation has been violated. The Austrian General would like us to fly at the mere sight of his army, and to abandon our allies. I have come to you with lightning speed.

‘Soldiers! you were around me when the sovereign of Austria came to my bivouac in Moravia; you heard him implore my clemency and swear eternal friendship with me. We have conquered in three wars: Austria owes everything to our generosity: she is three times perjured!

‘Our past successes are a sure guarantee of the victory awaiting us.
‘Let us march, then, and let our hearing be such that the enemy will recognise their conquerors.’

The news of the commencement of the war and of this brief address electrified the French and our allies, while the Austrians, who heard the volleys from our cannon, understood the cause of the demonstration, and were as much intimidated by the arrival of the Emperor as they had been encouraged by his prolonged absence.

It was his soldiers’ eager devotion to him which enabled Napoleon to get them to make the long rapid marches which brought his forces punctually to the very points where the enemy least expected to meet them. In twenty-four hours from his arrival, the Emperor was thus in his turn ready to take the offensive. Directly he reached Donauwerth on the evening of the 18th, the Emperor had written the following urgent lines to Marshal Masséna, and they were not without effect:

‘One word will be enough to make you understand the position. The Archduke Charles has debouched from Landshut upon Ratisbon with three corps, estimated as 80,000 strong. Davout, leaving Ratisbon, is marching towards Neustadt. That Marshal will act against the Austrian army, but the enemy is lost if your corps, debouching before daybreak by way of Pfaffenhoffen, falls upon the rear of Prince Charles. Between the 18th, 19th, and 20th, therefore, all the affairs of Germany will be settled. . . .’ The Emperor added with his own hand at the bottom of this letter: ‘Activity! activity! speed! I rely on you.’

After ordering his other generals to be at Ingolstadt as soon as they heard the cannon, he started with Prince Berthier for that town, where their carriages awaited them. Not nearly so well served in that respect as the Emperor and Major-General, I only found three of the horses I had sent from Strasburg, but fortunately I was able to secure several others, though at a very high price.

On the 19th, then, the Emperor was at Ingolstadt, and on the same day Marshal Davout, in accordance with the orders he had received, left but one regiment at Ratisbon to retain possession of that great town, relying upon the power of the colonel in command to hold it somehow for forty-eight hours at least. Unfortunately that officer was guilty of the imprudence of using up all his cartridges the first day in a fusillade he could have avoided if he had burnt the bridge, but he was afraid to take upon himself the responsibility of destroying that important communication, which he had orders to guard against the Austrians. Either from weakness or out of pity for the inhabitants, he did not draw upon the resources of the town to replace his exhausted stores, and although he might certainly have waited until the loopholed doors and windows behind which he and his men were stationed had been shattered by the cannonade of the enemy, he was actually guilty of capitulating, of allowing himself to be disarmed, and of giving up the town in obedience to the reiterated and almost simultaneous summonses to do so from General Kolovrath on the left bank, and the Prince of Lichtenstein on the right. This prompt defection detracted from the brilliant results the Emperor expected to achieve the next day, but for all that it only delayed for forty-eight hours the defeat of the enemy, on whom we were about to take a signal revenge. It was merely for the sake of concentrating as large a force as possible upon the point indicated by the Emperor, that the Marshal had left so few men at Ratisbon. When, however, he turned his back on that town and on the Austrian army, to place his troops in line on the left of the other corps the Emperor had ordered to advance, the enemy thought he was in retreat, and were encouraged to attack with superior forces the St. Hilaire and Friant divisions at the village of Peissing. Two French regiments were hotly engaged there, and the 52nd, bringing up the rear, had to repulse the successive charges of six regiments, driving them back one after another, and by this heroic resistance covering the movements of the advance corps. A little later, at about two o’clock, General Morand defeated an Austrian division, driving it on to the corps under Marshal Lefebvre, a whole regiment of the enemy’s dragoons being cut down by the Bavarian cavalry. In this struggle, known as the battle of Thann, the Austrian loss was very great. It was after this affair that Davout’s corps was able to take up its position in line with the other corps of the army.

On the 20th the Emperor arrived at Vobourg, where he learnt that the Archduke’s forces, numbering 80,000 men, were advancing upon Abensberg to give him battle. He mounted at once, and we accompanied him in the reconnaissance he made of the line of his own outposts and the position of the enemy. He returned to Vobourg in the evening to issue his orders, after which he informed his generals that the next day would be a second Jena.

On the 21st the Emperor went to the central division of the army, to place himself at the head of the Würtembergers and Bavarians. As soon as he arrived amongst them, he told them that he had come to fight in their midst, to prove to them how great was his confidence in the courage and loyalty of his allies, and to remind them of the many glorious actions in which their ancestors had won renown in times past.

The Prince Royal of Bavaria translated into German one sentence after another as the Emperor spoke, and officers repeated the translations throughout the ranks. A general cheer was then given for the Emperor, making him feel secure of victory.

The Bavarian General, Von Wrede, opened the attack on the enemy’s lines at Siegenburg. At about two o’clock Marshal Davout on his side engaged the corps of the Archduke, which was advancing towards Abensberg, putting it to rout and compelling it to retreat towards Ratisbon. Marshal Lannes then charged the Austrians, vigorously driving them back as far as Rohr, and forcing them to retire upon Roffenberg. Thus pressed on every side they withdrew towards Landshut pursued by the Bavarian divisions under Lefebvre and by the Würtembergers under the French General Vandamme. The battle only lasted a few hours, and cost the Austrians eight flags, twelve pieces of cannon, and 18,000 men, who were taken prisoners some by the Bavarians and others by the Würtembergers, who all fought most valiantly. I never saw our French soldiers so covered with blood or so excited as these brave Germans were, but they had fewer opportunities of distinguishing themselves than we had, and eagerly availed themselves of this chance.

The result of the battle of Abensberg was to cut the forces of the enemy in two; one half under Prince Charles on our left withdrew towards Ratisbon, whilst the other on our right under General Hiller made for Landshut. This first success was of vital importance, for through it Prince Charles lost all the advantages he ought to have gained in taking the initiative, scattering his forces to points widely distant from each other, whilst at the same time it concentrated those of the Emperor on an area a few leagues in extent, and led up to the other victories which were to follow it in rapid succession.

On the 21st the Emperor slept at Rohr in the lodgings prepared for the Austrian Archdukes, and at seven o’clock on the morning of the 22nd he started for Landshut. Major-General Prince Berthier ordered me to go and urge on Marshal Davout’s and Marshal Lannes’ pursuit of the Archduke, who was on his way to Ratisbon, and to return quickly to tell the Emperor what amount of resistance the French were likely to meet with. I joined and marched with our advance guard, following the rear guard of the enemy as far as beyond Langwahl, where they made a fairly long stand, and I was leaving Marshal Lannes about two o’clock to go back to the Emperor, when I heard the noise of prolonged and continuous firing. Eager to get to the scene of action, I left the deep lanes, where I could not see more than a hundred yards on either side of me, cut across the fields, and making straight for the direction in which I heard the cannonade, I gained a height from which I could see in the distance below me the course of the Isar, the town of Landshut, with the French troops in pursuit of General Hiller’s corps retiring on Landshut, where he defended the suburbs, attacked on the right bank by the French cavalry under Marshal Masséna, and on the left by the forces under the Emperor. The grand spectacle spread out beneath surprised and delighted me, and I felt like a second Moses looking down from Mount Sinai upon the Israelites in the plain. But the scene before me was far more imposing even than that which had met his eyes, for the infantry and cavalry were moving, and the clouds of smoke were rising up in one of the most beautiful and fertile valleys of Germany, the whole lit up by the bright spring sunshine. I tried to make out the exact position of the various corps which were manœuvring over meadow land nearly surrounded like an arena by the hills, from the top of one of which I was looking down. I recognised the cavalry of the advance guard of Marshal Masséna engaged with General Hiller’s corps defending the town of Landshut, where he was covering the retreat of the great convoys of artillery and baggage endeavouring to escape by way of the Vienna road. The ramparts bristled with the Austrian guns, the smoke from which prevented my seeing the heads of the columns of French troops with whom the enemy fought as they debouched along the right bank of the Isar.

From the side where I was, that is to say on the left bank, the suburb of Landshut was hemmed in by the Morand division, who were trying to get in before the enemy had burnt the two bridges across the river, here divided into two arms, flowing between the suburb and the town. Attack and defence were alike supplemented by a brisk cannonade.

Behind our infantry lines the cavalry, under Marshal Bessières, was grouped in divisions in two masses on the vast grassy plain, in the centre of which I recognised the group I sought, that surrounding the Emperor. Without losing any more time I set off again to join him, and as I cast the last look behind me I thought I could make out a considerable body of troops, in white uniforms, advancing along the Isar, and raising about them great clouds of dust. From the colour of their uniforms I gathered that they were enemies, and I guessed that they could not be seen from the valley, so I made all the greater haste to warn the Emperor, lest he should be taken by surprise. When I was halfway down the hill I completely lost sight of them myself, and I soon reached the Emperor quite out of breath and with my horse covered with foam. When I had given him an account of what I had seen, he asked me several times if I did not think it must be the corps under Prince Ferdinand, or that under the Archduke Maximilian, on their way to surprise him. I knew no more than he did, and dared not express an opinion one way or the other. I only insisted on the necessity of immediate precautions being taken. Without showing the slightest emotion, he sent several officers to reconnoitre the enemy’s columns, and ordered his aide-de-camp, General Mouton, to go and press on the attack on the suburb and bridge of Landshut with several battalions, pointed out the positions to be taken up on the hills of the amphitheatre above us by the two divisions of infantry at hand, had batteries of artillery stationed halfway up, hid reserves behind inequalities of the ground, and, having turned every advantage to the account of those who were to receive battle, and arranged everything for the crushing of any enemy which should dare to enter the arena, he put himself at the head of General Dallemagne’s cuirassiers, and started at a gallop to meet the enemy and draw them into the ambush just prepared for them.

In about a quarter of an hour the Emperor caught sight of the same clouds of dust and the same column as I had seen from the hill, and pausing to look at them through his field glass, he asked me the same questions as he had done before. We were soon able to make out the officers he had sent to reconnoitre galloping back, and they told us that the troops in white, whose rapid march was raising such volumes of dust, were several Bavarian and Würtemberg regiments which had surprised a great Austrian convoy of pontoons, ammunition, baggage, and provision wagons, which had been retreating towards one of the bridges on the Lower Isar, but whose drivers were now being made to go at their topmost speed with blows from the flat of their escorts’ swords, for fear of their being retaken by the enemy. The wagons were covered with white canvas, which had led to my error when I saw them in the distance.

The Emperor was very much put out with me for misleading him as I had done, and said I might have led to the failure of the attack on Landshut; but we were all glad to have furnished him with an occasion for giving us such a masterly lesson in tactics.

We quickly returned to Landshut, where the enemy was desperately defending the bridges, firing from the windows of all the neighbouring houses, and I feared that I was about to witness a repetition of the bloody scenes of Saragossa. I turned to account the experience I had won in that terrible siege, and I was preparing to make our troops defile behind some walls, to protect them from the numerous projectiles, when General Mouton, impatient at the prolonged resistance, led the grenadiers of the 17th regiment through the flames consuming the first bridge, and established them in the houses of that very block. Our fusillade now became in its turn unbearable to the Austrians, and without losing a moment our pioneers pressed on with skill as great as their courage over the burning beams of the second and more important bridge, and reaching the entrance gate, broke it in with blows from their hatchets. Following close behind them, our engineers re-established the passage by extinguishing the flames and flinging on the smouldering beams the doors and planks torn from the houses of the village. The French carried Landshut at the bayonet’s point. It would be difficult to describe the disorder into which we had thrown the Austrians, who, as they fled along the Vienna road, fell beneath our blows and the charges led by Marshal Masséna. The town was encumbered with carriages loaded with the sick and wounded, provisions and baggage; with ammunition wagons, and with several pontoon trains, of all of which we took possession, together with thirty pieces of cannon and 9,000 prisoners.

After this great day (April 22) the Emperor slept at Landshut, and during the night several of the Archduke Charles’s friends and aides-de-camp, not knowing that the town was occupied by the French, entered it and fell into our hands.

On Sunday, April 23, the corps under Marshal Masséna passed through Landshut before daybreak, on  its way to join that of Marshal Davout, which was advancing on our left in the direction of Eckmühl, keeping on its right the divisions under Marshal Lannes and General Oudinot, with the confederates led by Marshal Lefebvre. At ten o’clock in the morning the Emperor started for Eckmühl. He was as yet in ignorance of the fact that the enemy were masters of Ratisbon, and he meant to drive Prince Charles in that direction, thinking that he would find the town closed against him. The Archduke was already quite cut off from the corps of General Hiller, who, in consequence of the defeats related, was retreating by the Vienna road.

The army of Prince Charles was, however, still larger than ours, for it numbered more than 100,000 men. Moreover, he had at his command a few leagues beyond the Danube the still unbroken force of the Count of Bellegarde.

The enemy’s troops, protected by the Danube, were extended along a line perpendicular with that river, and were stationed on heights approached by marshy slopes which made our advance extremely difficult, whilst clumps of woods dotted about on the hills prevented either side from judging of the numbers of the enemy. This last fact greatly influenced the events of the day. The enemy saw but a very small portion of our army, but they were greatly discouraged by our previous successes, and supposed that there were ten times as many of us as there really were behind the woods, so they never dared call out their reserves, but kept them back for a moment of yet more urgent need. We, on the contrary, though a little anxious about the attack we were threatened with on our left, which was anything but strong, were emboldened by three days of victory, and seeing but a small party of the enemy before us we threw prudence to the winds, and full of confidence in the skill of our great leader, we showed a bold front everywhere, and that carried us through.

The Emperor arrived at the head of the Lannes and Masséna corps, the Würtembergers, and two divisions of cuirassiers, and about two o’clock he was on the heights above Eckmühl. He had no sooner got there than he saw Marshal Davout’s corps approaching, and learnt that when that general had reached the woods at eleven o’clock, he had met the enemy and at once opened fire; Davout had already gained some ground, and his cavalry, led by General Montbrun, had several times successfully charged that of the Austrians before Dunzling, when he made out the whole position of the enemy’s army, their white lines stretching in zigzag fashion for a distance of two or three leagues between the numerous clumps of verdure crowning the heights. The formidable artillery with which the Austrians were provided replied to our cannonade, and raised long clouds of smoke above the marshes and meadows, which were ploughed up by the balls.

Thus far Marshals Davout and Lefebvre, fearing that they would not be supported in time, had hesitated to cross the streams and marshes still separating them from the principal line of the enemy, but when they saw in the distance the smoke of the cannonade from the Saint-Hilaire division rising from the heights of Lindach, which told them of the approach of the corps led by the Emperor, they urged their troops forward, and the struggle at once everywhere became very fierce.

Meanwhile Marshal Lannes’ division on our right had crossed the Laber stream, to take the village of Roking, which was hotly defended by the Rosemberg Corps, and climbed the heights, driving the enemy before them on to the Ratisbon road.

The Würtembergers, directed by the Emperor, tried to penetrate into Eckmühl, from which they were vigorously repulsed but without being discouraged; the French officers leading them three times resumed the offensive, and making fresh efforts they at last took the bridge, village, and castle of Eckmühl, the windows of which were crowded with troops.

The enemy, beaten in these two villages, now retired by way of the Leuchling heights on the two villages of Upper and Lower Leuchling. Then crossing the valley they debouched rapidly under the fire of Marshal Davout, and climbed towards him in close column, but the Marshal swept down from the wooded heights where he had taken up his position, joined hands with General Friant’s division, himself led it to the charge, and drove the Austrians before him; after which the Marshal rallied his attacking columns, and climbed to the assault of the village of Upper Leuchling. There a fierce struggle took place. The Saint-Hilaire division attacked the wood covering the village, and met with a stubborn resistance.

On the right the Nansouty division of cuirassiers, with whom I was at the time, protected the Saint-Hilaire attack. This division crossed the meadow at a gallop, the horses often sinking in the mud up to the chest, and falling in the deep ruts which hundreds of balls were tearing out beneath our feet, covering us with splashes of black peat and mud; but though these impediments led to our arriving in great disorder on the firm ground occupied by the enemy, whose squadrons charged us fiercely to prevent our reforming, our action supported that of General Saint-Hilaire, whose division had great difficulty in taking the village. This charge of our 4,000 cuirassiers was so brilliant and successful that we heard the French infantry on our right shouting enthusiastically, ‘Bravo, bravo! Vivent les cuirassiers!’

At the same moment General Friant, on the left of General Saint-Hilaire, pressed on the attack on Upper Leuchling, the two generals succeeding in simultaneously entering the village, every street and garden of which was strewn with the dead.

The Austrians, driven from all the positions they had taken up, were now exposed to a cross fire from the corps under Marshals Lannes, Lefebvre, and Davout.

At about half-past four, Prince Rosemberg was almost surrounded in the two villages of Upper and Lower Leuchling, but he set his troops an example of extraordinary valour and devotion, defending his position for nearly an hour, and repulsing with the bayonet several charges and assaults. Nearly all his Hungarians fell in this action, and at last the position was given up to us, the enemy retiring in disorder. The taking of the villages of Eckmühl and Leuchling was the most glorious of the day’s achievements by our brave regiments. The 10th, 19th, 59th, and 72nd Regiments held the most advanced positions throughout the day. These regiments seemed to be inspired with a bold spirit of emulation, vying with each other in their intrepidity; and in the despatches the praise they so well deserved was liberally accorded to them.

After the charge of the Nansouty cuirassiers, I was on my way back to the Emperor, who was directing the whole of the battle from a height above Eckmühl, when I met a gentleman on foot wearing a simple blue frock-coat and a military cap, with nothing about him to indicate his rank. He asked me if I could tell him where the Emperor was, and as I was pointing to the spot where I hoped to find him, one of the many bullets aimed in our direction pierced his breast. Indifferent to a fate which we each of us expected at any moment, I did not trouble to find out who he was, but went on to join the Emperor. When I reached him, he asked me if I had met General Cervoni. I replied, ‘I do not know him.’ The Emperor then added, ‘I have sent for him, and he left Marshal Lannes to join me. I can’t think where he is.’ ‘Sire,’ I answered, ‘a gentleman asked me a minute or two ago where you were.’ ‘That must be he,’ said the Emperor. ‘Go quickly and bring him here. I am anxious to speak to him.’ ‘But, sire, the gentleman was killed as he was speaking to me. That corpse stretched on the ground about a hundred paces off has a blue coat on.’ The Emperor sent at once to ascertain if it were indeed General Cervoni, and it turned out that it was that unfortunate officer. He had for two years commanded the Marseilles division, and had just arrived post haste to take up a command under Marshal Lannes, for which he had long been asking. The Emperor expressed the most lively regret at the loss of this meritorious gentleman, whom he pitied deeply for being killed just as he left his carriage, and without having had any share in the victory.

The army of the enemy retired in disorder on Ratisbon, availing themselves, however, of every clearing in the woods to reform their ranks and harass our march. At every step our light cavalry had to charge, whilst that of the Austrians also attacked us with considerable courage, though almost always without success. In one of the cavalry mêlées the Archduke Charles, who had placed himself at the head of the Austrians to encourage them, was surrounded and all but taken prisoner.

Our masses of cavalry, flanked on the right and left by the infantry marching through the thick woods, advanced by the main road, and it was nearly eight o’clock in the evening when they came upon a formidable body of cavalry and infantry drawn up in line before Egolfsheim to bar our passage. The only light was that of the moon, which was reflected from the sabres, helmets, and breastplates of the imposing arrays of the thousands of horsemen who were about to cross swords. The Austrian cuirassiers attacked our Nansouty and Saint-Sulpice Corps with the fury of despair, and a terrible mêlée ensued, in which the artillery did not dare to fire for fear of shooting down their own comrades. A few gunners cut down at their posts gave the alarm to the whole of the artillery of the enemy, who fled pell-mell with the routed Austrian cuirassiers, who, wearing no armour but their breastplates, lost many men, as soon as they turned their backs on us, our cuirassiers thrusting them through and through. The Austrian infantry, hoping to check the united torrent of fugitives and their pursuers, quickly formed in several squares, but were overturned without daring to use their weapons, as they could not distinguish in the gloom between friends and foes, so that thus defeated the squares were taken prisoners en masse. The rest of the Austrian army, with their corps broken up and hopelessly mixed together, passed the night in retreating in the greatest disorder towards Ratisbon. If Colonel Coutard, who had been left to defend that town, had had the sense to burn the bridges before capitulating, Prince Charles’s army, deprived of those bridges and of an easy way of retreat to Bohemia, would have fallen entirely into our power, whereas as it was a large part of it managed to escape.

The Emperor ordered our cavalry to pursue the enemy at the sword’s point, but the darkness increased and the march became more and more arduous. Presently, therefore, remembering moreover that his troops must be exhausted with fatigue, many divisions having marched twelve leagues that day before they began to fight, and being anxious to reserve their strength for the next day, he ordered the pursuit to cease and the army to bivouac beyond the village of Koffering, which had been taken and occupied at nine o’clock in the evening.

The Emperor took up his head quarters at Egolfsheim, where he hoped to get a little rest, but he had hardly had time to spread out his maps, and Major-General Prince Berthier had scarcely opened his portfolios to issue his orders for the next day, when the village was found to be on fire from some of the shells thrown into it in the evening, It would have been difficult to extinguish the flames, so it was left to burn, and the fire served to warm us. We passed the night in the gardens of the village beneath the stars; but our sleep, which we found all too short, was several times interrupted by our duties as aides-de-camp. When daylight returned we found we had about 20,000 prisoners, including the wounded who had been abandoned, and that we had taken fifteen flags, a good deal of artillery, and a great many first-rate horses. Our soldiers sold the best of these horses at four or five Louis d’or each. I bought three, but an hour afterwards some horse fanciers relieved me of my purchases without my knowledge, with the result that my part of the booty of the day of Eckmühl was the loss of fifteen louis d’or and the gain of many a pleasant memory.

At daybreak on the 24th, Marshal Masséna received orders from the Emperor to make for Straubing, and there cross the Danube so as to harass the retreat of the Austrians through Bohemia, whilst Napoleon himself, with his cavalry and the corps of Marshal Lannes and Davout, marched on Ratisbon.

It was nine o’clock when our advance guard met that of the Austrians in the plains about the town. The numerous cavalry of the enemy awaiting us in order of battle presented a most imposing appearance. Our regiments of carabineers (the élite of the French cavalry, not only on account of their height, but of their chivalrous bearing) had had no chance of crossing swords during the previous days, and their leaders, anxious to show off their skill, begged for them to have the honour of taking their share in the fighting. This request was granted, although they belonged to the reserve. The carabineers, wearing broad felt hats and uniforms turned back with red, were drawn up in columns of squadrons, and when the trumpets sounded the signal they dashed forward at a gallop; the earth shook beneath the onrush of 2,000 horses, and the gaze of all was riveted upon the intensely interesting evolution, whilst every heart beat high with expectation. The Austrians received the shock with great courage, but they could not stand against it; they were overturned, swept away as by a thunderstorm, and this charge of our carabineers outside Ratisbon will ever be engraved alike on our memories and in the annals of our wars as one of the most brilliant feats of arms of the age.

Two other charges from our cuirassiers completed the defeat of the Austrian cavalry, who fled pell-mell like a flock of sheep, not all of them succeeding in entering the town. If our infantry had only had time to follow these rapid movements, they would have got in with the enemy’s cavalry, and as it was there was only just time for the Austrians to barricade the gates before our artillery came up and began bombarding them, whilst the enemy crowned the top of all the crenelated walls with infantry, and placed cannon in all the embrasures.

After all our efforts and our pursuit of the routed cavalry, we discovered that during the night the enemy had constructed a bridge of boats above the town. Marshal Lannes sent some infantry and artillery to attack this bridge, and the fugitives were thrown into great disorder. Our fire shattered and sank several boats, the bridge was broken, and retreat in that direction became impossible; all who were not able to get back into the town were taken, in spite of their being protected by a considerable number of guns, which fired on us from the heights of the left bank of the river.

Our efforts were now concentrated on the gates of the town, which we tried to enter. Our infantry, dotted about in the gardens at half range from the ramparts, riddled the artillerymen at their embrasures with bullets, and protected the troops who were bringing ladders from the neighbouring village, with which to climb to the assault as soon as a practicable breach had been made. Whilst this was going on the Emperor, who was on horseback near the town, was struck on the heel by a ball. Either the pain was not very great or he managed to hide it, for he merely sent for his surgeon Yvan, not even letting us take him out of range of the falling balls. He sat down on a drum, and Yvan dressed the wound, which was really a mere contusion. The Emperor then remounted his horse, and it was not until some hours afterwards that the army knew of the danger their chief had been in. When the troops did hear of it they hastened up from every direction and surrounded the Emperor, who to reassure them galloped through their ranks in the midst of enthusiastic cheering and touching expressions of devotion.

The day, a most laborious one, passed without our having succeeded in effecting a practicable breach, and we were beginning to be afraid we should have to go through a regular siege. During the confusion several quarters of the town had been set on fire, and many of the buildings of the luckless city were wrapped in dense clouds of smoke. As night approached these clouds became dashed with crimson, and the whole place was illuminated by the lurid glow of the flames. The atmosphere was perfectly calm, and there was no wind to disperse the smoke, which rose in majestic-looking columns to the sky.

I can still see in imagination the crests of the partly destroyed walls, dashed with a thousand varying tints, and crowned with eager, desperate defenders, standing out against the sombre glow of the conflagrations, whilst above the heads of the besieged rose masses of black smoke assuming many a different form, tongues of flame and columns of steam, as yellow as sulphur, shooting up here and there. At a considerable height above it all floated light vaporous, ever shifting clouds, lit up by the silvery beams of the moon.

The ancient walls of Ratisbon had not been built to resist artillery, and after our twelve-pounders had been firing on one spot for some few hours, we at last saw the fall of a house adjoining the enceinte, succeeded very soon by that of a large piece of the wall itself, making a wide opening. The chief difficulty now was to get to the base of the wall, for to do so we had to cross, without any cover, the wide promenades or boulevards surrounding the town. These boulevards were lit up as brightly as by day by the light of the moon and the conflagration, and moreover the enemy swept them with grape shot. Our infantry had been stationed under the shelter of a few houses, and when they had to cross the open to march to the assault the first ranks fell, and there was some little hesitation amongst the others. A second attempt was not more successful. Their chief, the impetuous Marshal Lannes, impatient at the delay, now exclaimed, ‘I am going to show you that I am still a grenadier!’ and flinging himself to the head of the column he crossed the esplanade, followed by the assailants carrying ladders.

Captain Beaulieu, of the engineers, who had previously reconnoitred the way and the state of the breach, led the Marshal and his aides-de-camp to the right spot, and they were the first to arrive at the edge of the ditch, the counterscarp of which had fortunately not been put into a good state of defence. A few soldiers were able to climb the wall and jump into the fosse, others went down on ladders. Beaulieu and Labédoyère, leading the way, climbed up by the most practicable portions of the breach, repulsing a few Hungarian grenadiers who made an attempt to defend it. In a few seconds all the ladders were placed in position without disorder, the soldiers following their brave officers, and the column scaled the ramparts and got down into the town in the midst of a hot fusillade. As they advanced towards the Straubing gate our grenadiers came upon a body of terrified Austrians crouching against a wall, who laid down their arms. The Marshal’s orders were to march direct upon the bridge, to cut off all possibility of retreat; but our men did not know the way, and had got wrong, when they met a French vivandière of the 65th Regiment, who had stopped in the town, and who, delighted to see her fellow-countrymen again, offered to lead them right, and took them towards the bridge through the thick of the firing. The streets and squares were encumbered with carriages and all manner of property which the inhabitants had been trying to save in the terrible conflagration. Our troops were, however, advancing rapidly through the burning streets, when they came to a dozen wagons and some carriages loaded with barrels. They were about to pass them, when an Austrian officer ran up to them and shouted in a distracted kind of way, ‘Don’t go on! they are full of powder!’ Every one shuddered, and, no longer thinking of fighting, our men joined the Austrians in a helter-skelter attempt to remove as far as they could the thousands of pounds of powder which were likely soon to blow the whole town to pieces. Our haste did indeed save us from that disaster, but when we at last got to the bridge the gates were already barricaded and defended by the whole Austrian artillery, massed upon the other bank and pouring a terrible fire upon the town.

Marshal Lannes, compelled to abandon the idea of taking the bridge, now contented himself with making the five or six thousand Austrians scattered about the town lay down their arms and ordering them to aid our troops in putting out the fire. A few minutes later a big suburb on the left bank of the river burst into flames. Very soon there remained not a single house, and it was by the melancholy light of the flames that we made our way to the Imperial head quarters in the Carthusian Abbey near the gates of Ratisbon, where we were able to take a little rest. Thus about midnight ended the fourth day of the new war, the sixth since the arrival of the Emperor. Even ancient history contains no record of so remarkable a series of events in so short a space of time. Four victories achieved in four days! A splendid opening of the campaign of 1809, the most brilliant of all the campaigns of the Empire!

On the morning of the next day – the 25th – we went over the unfortunate city, a great portion of which was still on fire. What had once been an extensive suburb on the left bank was now one huge furnace. The streets of the town were strewn with the Austrian dead and wounded, some of the bodies partly consumed by the flames. Our hearts were torn at the sight of the inhabitants wandering about amongst the smouldering ruins, and the Emperor was so much touched by all the terrible misery that he promised the poor creatures that he would have the homes they had lost rebuilt at his own cost.

The rest of the day was spent by Napoleon in having the wounded seen to and in reviewing his troops.

I was present at this review (at which I received a money grant – I had been made colonel of engineers two months before), and I was near the Emperor when he was nominating those who were to fill up the vacant sub-lieutenancies in the 52nd Regiment. He had asked the colonel to order out from the ranks the most deserving of the non-commissioned officers; and as the Emperor passed before them the brave fellows proudly presented arms, answering his questions and receiving with delight the Imperial baptism, ‘I make you an officer.’ When he had reached the seventh or eighth sergeant the Emperor noticed a handsome young fellow with fine but stern-looking eyes, and of resolute and martial bearing, who made his musket ring again as he presented arms. ‘How many wounds?’ inquired the Emperor. ‘Thirty,’ replied the sergeant. ‘I am not asking you your age,’ said the Emperor graciously; ‘I am asking how many wounds you have received.’ ‘Raising his voice, the sergeant again replied with the one word,  ‘Thirty.’ ‘Annoyed at this reply, the Emperor turned to the colonel and said,  ‘The man does not understand; he thinks I am asking about his age.’ ‘He understands well enough, sire,’ was the reply; ‘he has been wounded thirty times.’ ‘What!’ exclaimed the Emperor, ‘you have been wounded so often and have not got the cross!’ The sergeant looked down at his chest, and, seeing that the strap of his cartridge pouch hid his decoration, he raised it so as to show his cross. He said to the Emperor, with great earnestness, ‘Yes, I've got one, but I’ve merited a dozen!’ The Emperor, who was always pleased to meet spirited fellows such as this, pronounced the sacramental words,  ‘I make you an officer!’ ‘That’s right, Emperor,’ said the new sub-lieutenant, as he proudly drew himself up; you couldn’t have done better!’

Meanwhile Archduke Charles had begun his retreat on Vienna by way of the wretched Bohemian roads, hastening his movements the more because he had heard of the forced marches of our troops on the same town, where we were likely to arrive before he could, as we were going thither by a more direct route and also by less steep and better roads.

The Masséna Corps was advancing between those under Lannes and Davout, so that it protected both. Masséna had had orders to march on Ebersberg, and the Imperial Staff followed that movement. Having been sent with an order, I was on my way back to head quarters, when I came upon Marshal Masséna just as he was leading the Claparède division against several battalions of the enemy’s rear guard, posted in a hamlet on a branch road, and it was in the midst of a shower of bullets that I gave an account of my mission to the Prince, watching meanwhile the conflict I am about to describe.

The first brigade of the Claparède division was commanded by General Cohorn, who met the Austrians on the branch road mentioned above. A few battalions only had been stationed there to protect from a distance the approaches to the bridge of Ebersberg. They were easily repulsed and pursued as far as the narrow road which leads down to the bridge. This road, raised from about twelve to fifteen feet above the sandy meadows, often apparently flooded by the Traun, and with clumps of wood here and there, was rather more than half a mile long. The river, which was deep and rapid, here divided near the town into several arms, each spanned by a wooden bridge. The largest of the bridges, which was more than 1,200 feet long, abutted on to the gates of the town, and the Emperor had given orders that every effort should be made to prevent the enemy from destroying this bridge, which was so necessary to our advance. The Austrians had already piled up faggots and smeared the bridge with tar ready for setting it on fire, when Cohorn’s troops dashed down the roadway pell-mell with the fugitives they were pursuing.

Hitherto our troops had been deploying in woods, where they could not see more than a hundred yards before them, but when they debouched from the forest the sight which met their eyes may well have surprised them. Beyond the long causeway on the other side of the bridge spanning the river and leading to the very walls of the town, the houses rose as in an amphitheatre, every window crowded with troops, whilst the terraces of the castle bristled with artillery, and every height overlooking Ebersberg was covered with batteries of artillery, and more than 30,000 men stood ready to fire down upon us if we got into the town. Under any other circumstances it would have been wise to pause and at least organise our attack on the formidable preparations for defence, but our troops were already launched against and mixed with the enemy. Their onslaught was tremendously vigorous; any manœuvring to the right or to the left was impossible, retreat would have been even more perilous than advance, and Cohorn, recognising that his only chance of success was in audacity, urged his men on, encouraging them by himself marching at their head. As soon as the enemy’s gunners caught sight of us they concentrated all the fire of the artillery upon the roadway and the bridge, the gates of which were immediately closed even against fugitive battalions, who, finding themselves exposed to the fire of their own comrades, flung themselves from the bridges and the roadway on to the islets in the river, where they were compelled to lay down their arms. All the killed or wounded on the bridge, whether French or Austrians, were pitilessly flung into the water, even carriages laden with the Austrian wounded encumbering the way were flung over, and a dash was made for the gates, which were barricaded from within the town. They, however, very soon gave way beneath the blows from the hatchets of our pioneers.

Cohorn’s intrepidity had saved the bridge, and it helped us to secure the town also. After the terrible dangers they had escaped his troops debouched into a square full of infantry, and found themselves exposed to the fire from them as well as from the windows of the houses and castle above them. Cohorn’s brigade suffered fearfully, and defended themselves with their bayonets only, but Claparède’s second brigade came to their aid at double quick pace, crossing the bridge in a continued hail of grape shot. Many French generals were wounded, and had their horses killed under them.

Our artillery, which promptly arrived on the left bank, answered that of the Austrians, which was working such havoc amongst our men that they would really have had to give way and lose ground had not General Legrand’s division come to the rescue. It was on this occasion that Legrand made his stern reply to General B. who came up to make a suggestion to him as to whither he should lead his column. ‘Eh!’ he said, ‘get out of my way now; you can give me some advice later; we are not here to make phrases!’

When General Cohorn saw that he was supported, he led his men rapidly up towards the castle, whilst the battalions left behind drove in the doors of the houses and killed all those who had been firing at there from the windows. Claparède also pushed on for the castle, but he and General Cohorn were both repulsed and compelled in their turn to take refuge in the houses and fire at the Austrians from the windows. General Hiller meanwhile flung a number of shells into the town, and on every side fire broke out in the houses, the wounded Austrians, with which they were crowded, dragging themselves out into the streets to escape the flames.

General Legrand, eager to put an end to the struggle, in his turn led his men to the assault of the castle, whilst Claparède attacked it on the flank. Our pioneers drove in the gates, and opened a passage for us; the Austrians shut up in the castle tried to defend themselves, but ended by laying down their arms, whilst others got out through the gardens to the hill behind Ebersberg, where they were pursued, a bloody desperate conflict taking place, in which first one and then the other side was successful.

Whilst this was going on above the castle, shells were poured by the Austrians into the little town of Ebersberg, with a view to driving us out of it. On every side we were surrounded by flames; our position became no longer tenable, and we were compelled to withdraw from it. One regiment of cavalry which had got into the town, but could penetrate no farther, had already had to retrace its steps over the bridge to save the men and horses from annihilation. We wanted to avoid going up by the long arduous ascent to the castle, and the only other way out was by the gate opening on to the Vienna road. At this gate there were a number of vaulted arcades, beneath which the road, only wide enough for a single carriage, passed, debouching at the base of the steep heights covered with gardens enclosed within hedges, behind which the Austrians were in ambush, and thus protected were able to fire at almost close quarters upon the heads of the French columns as they issued at quick pace from the narrow defile. A scene as terrible was enacted here as that at the passage of the bridge. The street leading to the gateway was of a good width, but the houses were on fire, and burning brands fell upon the wounded Austrians, who were trying to save themselves. Cohorn, however, had no choice, and he ordered the head of his column to keep together, fix bayonets, and charge for the gardens, trampling down all the unfortunate wretches in the way. Our brave fellows, shouting ‘Forward! forward!’ with one voice, flung themselves in good order and at quick pace beyond the arcades, the first rank to issue receiving such a volley of bullets that not a man remained standing. The second rank climbed over the bodies of their comrades, only to be in their turn thrown down. Imbued with the same zeal, the same cry of ‘Forward! forward!’ continued to ring out, and twenty ranks went down in succession, without checking the advance of those pressing on behind, with burning brands upon their backs, which they were trying to shake off as they struggled over the masses of the dead and dying, forming such a terrible hindrance to their progress. Presently, however, the Austrians no longer had time to reload either muskets or cannon, the struggle was continued with the bayonet, and General Hiller’s troops, no less courageous than their assailants, did not yield their position until they found themselves threatened in the rear by the cavalry of General Durosnel and Marshal Bessières, who had crossed the Traun at Lambach and at Wels when they decided to retreat.

The Claparède and Legrand divisions, with the whole of Marshal Masséna’s corps, their artillery, ammunition wagons, and the cavalry of the advance guard, now made their way at a gallop through the same gate, crushing to pulp and powder beneath their wheels and the feet of their horses the bodies of from five to six hundred French and Austrians, piled up in a space but a few feet wide, as they pushed on to bivouac in the gardens on the hill of Ebersberg.

As we, with the Emperor, followed the advance guard, and our horses’ feet sank in the mud made up of the still warm flesh and blood of the dead, a feeling of intense horror and disgust, of which I have never been able fully to shake off the memory, came over us. The street was strewn with terrible-looking corpses, half consumed by fire, and even our glory in victory could scarcely enable us to choke down our emotion at having bought that victory so dear. Bearing in mind the narrow space in which the struggle had taken place, it had been more bloody than any of our wars, though we had seen a good many more victims reduced to a similar condition in the bogs of Pultusk and Golymin.

In the order sent to Marshal Masséna on May 1, the Emperor had foreseen the resistance we should meet with here, for he had said, ‘The enemy will take up an advantageous position at Ebersberg, but will be driven from it by the corps which will cross the Traun at Lamsbach.’ The advanced guard of this corps was confided to General Durosnel, whose march had been retarded by the many streams and ravines he had had to cross, for he had made his way straight across country in the direction from which he heard the firing, having failed to find the roads on the right bank of the Traun. If he could only have arrived two hours earlier, he would have saved the lives of many brave grenadiers.¹

¹ As a matter of fact, the struggle at Ebersberg, with all its terrible bloodshed, was wasted, for Lannes, having already crossed the Traun higher up, was about to attack the Austrians in the rear, and they would soon have been between two fires. – Trans.

The Emperor was much moved by all the suffering he had witnessed, and it was with a heavy heart that he passed the night in the gardens of Ebersberg surrounded by his soldiers, like some father who finds the best consolation for his sorrows in the bosom of his family; and our brave fellows were in their turn comforted for the loss of their comrades by the presence in their midst of their Emperor, sharing their couch of straw, their fatigues, and their privations.

The pretty little town of Ebersberg was still burning at the foot of the mountain, and the Austrian prisoners were employed to put out the flames. The night was calm and fine, the moonlighting up the gardens. Our troops gathered in groups to chat together round some thousands of bivouac fires at very short distances from each other, the wood of the hedges and the trees, the bright-looking summer houses, arbours, and refreshment rooms – everything combustible, in fact – serving for fuel, and by their merry crackling making us forget, as we warmed ourselves at them, the absence of the supper which would soon have made us go to sleep if we had had it. I don’t suppose any nocturnal fête was ever more brilliantly illuminated, or that there was ever more eager talking at any bivouac, for each one was congratulating himself on his escape in one or another episode of the awful struggle of the day. The names of Cohorn, Masséna, and Legrand were the most often quoted with admiration. Then each survivor spoke of the comrades killed here or there at his side; regretted the loss of a coat-sleeve or cloak which had been burnt, a shako which had been lost, or told of the explosion of his cartridge box as he made his way through the flames of Ebersberg, and the words, ‘Did you see this? Did you see that?’ were passed from mouth to mouth, followed by an account of the episode referred to.

The Emperor, feeling the need of doing something to assuage his compunction at the thought of all the blood he had seen flowing in the horrible butchery, gave up several hours to the good work of consolation, and summoned to his aid the Comte Daru and M. Maret, Duke of Bassano, who had been with him as his secretaries since the commencement of the campaign. Seated on piles of fagots brought for the fires, and by the light of candles set upon drums, the Emperor and these gentlemen worked for some hours in this rural council chamber, the secretaries holding their paper on their knees, preparing decree after decree for the Emperor’s signature, ordering the construction of roads, the excavation of canals, the foundation of hospitals, &c., rewards to be given for great services, and so on. It was eleven o’clock when the Emperor, having given his instructions for the next day to Prince Berthier, ordered the Count and the Duke to open their portfolios, and at two o’clock they were still at work.

Owing to my absence at Salzburg, M. Maret had not seen me for some time, and when he was asked for a pension for the widow of Colonel Lejeune, who had been killed, it was said, a few days before, he thought I had fallen, and showed considerable interest in the matter when, at the bivouac I am describing, he presented the order for this pension to Napoleon for signature. The Emperor seemed surprised and grieved at the news, expressed a regret which did him honour, and added to his signature these generous words, ‘I double the pension.’ The double pension thus ordered was duly paid to Mme. Lejeune, and she enjoyed it from that time until two years ago! A few days after the incident just related occurred, the Emperor, having issued some orders which it would be difficult to execute, said to Prince Berthier, ‘Send a colonel of engineers;’ and the Prince replied, ‘I will send Lejeune.’ ‘Oh, no, you won’t,’ exclaimed the Emperor; ‘he is dead – so dead, in fact, that I ordered a double pension for his widow three days ago.’ ‘But, sire, I have just been speaking to him.’ ‘Well, I never! send him to me.’ So they fetched me, and directly I appeared the Emperor began to laugh, and said, ‘Well, I see I was wrong; I thought it was he!’ Then resuming his grave manner he gave me his orders without further explanation. A little later Prince Berthier and the Duke of Bassano told me all about this fortunate mistake, and I was able to thank the Emperor myself for his generosity.