The Empress, who to her great grief could not accompany His Majesty, sent for me the morning of the departure, and renewed in accents of the most touching solicitude the advice she was accustomed to give me whenever the Emperor made a journey. The Spanish character alarmed her and caused her to fear for her husband's life.

The farewells were painful and afflicting. The Empress wished to go along, the Emperor had all the trouble in the world to make her comprehend that this was impossible. Just before starting, His Majesty re-entered his dressing-cabinet for a moment, and told me to unbutton his coat and vest. I obeyed, and I saw the Emperor pass around his neck, between his vest and shirt, a ribbon of black taffeta, from which was suspended a sort of little sachet the size of a large hazelnut, covered with black taffeta. I did not know at the time what was contained in this sachet which the Emperor always wore thenceforward in all his campaigns. Later on I shall have a sad occasion to say to what end he did so.

I set off with a heavy heart. The recommendations of Her Majesty the Empress, fears which I did not try to conceal from myself, and the fatigues of reiterated journeys contributed to my sadness. A like sentiment betrayed itself on nearly every face of the imperial household. The officers were saying that the wars of the north were a mere bagatelle in comparison to that to be fought in Spain.

November 3 we arrived at the château de Marrac. Four days later we were at Vittoria, in the midst of the French army. There the Emperor found his brother, and some Spanish grandees who had not yet deserted his cause. The arrival of His Majesty electrified the troops, and a share of the enthusiasm they manifested—a very small share, it is true—found its way to the heart of the King, who regained some courage.

We were en route almost at once to establish ourselves provisionally at Burgos, which was carried by main force, and even pillaged for several hours, because the inhabitants had abandoned it, leaving to the garrison the care of delaying the French as long as possible.

The Emperor lodged at the archbishop's palace, a superb building erected on a large place, where the grenadiers of the imperial guard bivouacked. This bivouac was a curious sight to see. Immense caldrons found in the convents, filled with mutton, fowls, rabbits, etc., were suspended over a fire, which was fed with furniture, guitars, and mandolins, while the grenadiers, pipe in mouth, gravely seated in gilded armchairs upholstered in crimson damask, watched their cooking and exchanged conjectures concerning the campaign that had but just begun.

The Emperor rested ten or twelve days at Burgos, and then gave orders to march upon Madrid. We could have gone by way of Valladolid, the road being even finer and safer on that side; but the Emperor wished to carry the Pass of Somo-Sierra, an imposing position fortified by nature, which had always been considered impregnable. Situated between two perpendicular mountains, this position defended the capital; it was guarded by twelve thousand insurgents, and twelve pieces of cannon placed in such a way as to be capable of doing as much damage as thirty or forty anywhere else. Assuredly there was enough to arrest the most formidable army; but what could then oppose any obstacle to the progress of the Emperor?

We halted in the evening of November 29, three leagues from this formidable defile, in a village called Basaguillas. It was very cold; the Emperor, however, did not go to bed; he spent the night writing in his tent, wrapped in the pelisse given him by the Emperor Alexander. Toward three o'clock he came to warm himself at the bivouac fire, where I was sitting, not being able to endure the cold and dampness of a low room assigned to me, in which I had nothing to lie on but some handfuls of very dirty straw.

At eight o'clock in the morning the position was attacked and taken. The next day we arrived before Madrid.

The Emperor established his headquarters in the château of Champ-Martin, a pleasure-house a quarter of a league from the city, which belonged to the mother of the Duc de l'Infantado; the army camped around this house. The day after our arrival, the owner came, bathed in tears, to ask of His Majesty the revocation of the fatal decree which outlawed her son. The Emperor did all he could to reassure her, but could promise nothing, the measure being general.

There was some trouble in taking the city; in the first place because His Majesty had recommended the greatest moderation in the attacks, not wishing, as he said, to restore a burnt city to his brother; and in the second place because the Grand Duke of Berg had fortified the palace of the Retiro during his sojourn at Madrid, and the Spanish insurgents had established themselves there and were defending it courageously. The city was not otherwise protected, for it had nothing but a wall very much like that of Paris. By the end of three days it was taken; but the Emperor would not enter it; he continued to reside at Champ-Martin, with the exception of one day when he visited the royal palace and the principal quarters incognito and in disguise.

The respect which the Spaniards have always displayed for all that belongs to a king, whether they consider him legitimate or not, is an extraordinary thing. When King Joseph left Madrid the palace was closed, and the government established itself in a good enough building which had served for the mails. From that time no one entered the palace but the domestics employed to clean it occasionally; not a piece of furniture, not a book was displaced. The portrait of Napoleon at Mont Saint-Bernard, one of David's masterpieces, still hung in the grand reception room, and that of the Queen opposite, precisely as the King had had them placed. Even the cellars were religiously respected. The apartments of King Charles had likewise remained intact; not a watch of his immense collection had been touched.

An act of clemency on the part of His Majesty toward the Marquis de Saint-Simon, a Spanish grandee, signalized in a very affecting manner the entry of the French troops into Madrid. The Marquis de Saint-Simon, a French émigré had been in the service of Spain since the emigration. He was in command of a part of the capital, and the post he defended was precisely opposite that which the Emperor occupied at the gates of Madrid. He resisted long after the other chiefs had surrendered. The Emperor, impatient at always hearing discharges from this side, gave orders for a vigorous charge in which the Marquis was made prisoner. In his bad temper, the Emperor sent him before a military tribunal, which condemned him to be shot. The sentence was about to be carried into execution when Mademoiselle de Saint-Simon, a charming young person, came to throw herself at the feet of His Majesty, who at once granted her her father's pardon.

The King immediately re-entered his capital; with him returned the high families of Madrid, whom the troubles had driven from the hotbed of the insurrection, and balls, fêtes, festivities, and plays presently began again.

There was at this time in the principal theatre a very pretty young person, not more than fifteen or sixteen years old at most, with black tresses, sparkling eyes, and a ravishing bloom. She had been able—so at least people said—to guard her virtue against the attacks to which it was exposed by her profession as an actress. She had a fine mind, a good heart, a singular vivacity of expression, everything in fact. She was adorable. So said to His Majesty-one day M. de B——, who had been to the theatre the night before, and who had returned from it in a state of amazement. M. de B—— added that this young girl had neither father nor mother; that she lived with an old aunt; that this aunt, at once avaricious and depraved, guarded her with special care, affected the strongest attachment for her, eulogized the charms and qualities of her dear child wherever she went, in the hope of soon founding her fortune on the liberality of some rich and powerful protector.

So engaging a portrait having made the Emperor express a wish to see this beautiful actress, M. de B—— ran to the house of the aunt, with whom he presently came to terms, and that evening the niece was at Champ-Martin, adorned in a dazzling style, and perfumed with all the perfumes imaginable. I have already said that the Emperor had a very pronounced aversion for odors, and he did not fail to manifest it when I brought this poor girl into his chamber; she, doubtless, had expected to give His Majesty great pleasure by thus covering herself with essences. However, she was so pretty, so attractive, that the Emperor found his antipathy diminish while looking at her.

It was nearly two hours since I had left the chamber, when I heard the bell ringing hard enough to break the cord; I went in as fast as I could and found no one but the young person. The Emperor was in his dressing-closet, his head leaning on his hands. "Constant," he cried on seeing me, "take that little thing away! She is killing me with her odors; it is insupportable. Open all the doors and windows,—but take her away first, and be quick about it!"

It was very late to send away a woman in that style. However, the order admitted of no reply. I went therefore to acquaint the poor little thing with the intentions of His Majesty. At first she did not understand me, and I was obliged to repeat several times: "Mademoiselle, His Majesty desires that you should withdraw. . . ." Then she began to weep, entreating me not to send her out at such an hour; it was of no use for me to tell her that I would take all needful precautions and provide a soft and closely covered carriage; her prayers and tears did not stop, and she only consoled herself a little when I showed her a valuable present which the Emperor had given me for her. On my return I found the Emperor still sitting in his dressing-room and dabbing his temples with Cologne water; he leaned on me to go and lie down again.

The Emperor left Champ-Martin December 22, going toward Astorga with the intention of meeting the English, who had just disembarked at Corunna. But some despatches remitted to him at Astorga by a courier from Paris determined him to resume the road to France. Hence he ordered a departure for Valladolid.

We found the road from Benavente to Astorga horribly covered with corpses, dead horses, artillery wagons, and broken carriages; at every step we met detachments of soldiers with torn uniforms, barefooted and without weapons, in a word, in the most deplorable condition. These wretches were all fleeing toward Astorga, which they regarded as a port of safety, and which would soon be unable to contain them all. It was frightful weather, the rain falling hard enough to blind one; I was in bad health, and suffered greatly throughout this painful journey.

While at Tordesillas, the Emperor established his headquarters in the outbuildings of the convent of Santa Clara. The abbess of this convent was presented to His Majesty; she was more than seventy-five years old, and from the age of ten had never left the house. Her mild and intelligent conversation pleased the Emperor much; he asked what he could do for her, and granted her several favors.

We arrived at Valladolid January 6, 1809. There was still a very lively commotion reigning there; two or three days after our coming, a cavalry officer was assassinated by some Dominican monks; Hubert, one of our comrades, passing through a lonely street one evening, was set upon by three men and grievously wounded; they would doubtless have killed him if some grenadiers of the guard had not heard his cries and ran to his assistance. Again they were monks. The Emperor, violently irritated, had the Dominican convent searched; the body of the officer was found in a well amidst a considerable heap of bones, and the convent was suppressed by order of His Majesty, who, for a moment, thought of extending this rigorous measure to all the convents of the city. He reflected, however, and contented himself with requiring all the monks in Valladolid to appear before him. On the appointed day they came—not all of them, but deputations from each convent—to prostrate themselves at the feet of the Emperor, who covered them with reproaches. Several times he treated them as assassins and brigands, saying that they ought all to be hanged. These poor men listened in silence and humility to the terrible language of the irritated victor, whom nothing but their patience could appease. Finally the Emperor quieted down; doubtless it had occurred to him that it was unseemly to browbeat kneeling men, not one of whom breathed a word in reply; he left the group of officers surrounding him, and went forward into the middle of the group of monks, motioning them to quit their suppliant posture; and these good men, while obeying him, kissed the skirts of his coat and pressed around him with an eagerness which did not fail to excite some fears in the members of His Majesty's suite; for it is certain that, had there been a Dominican among these religious, nothing could have been easier than an assassination.

While the Emperor was staying at Valladolid, I had a quarrel with the grand marshal which I shall remember all my life, and in which the Emperor intervened in a very just and kindly manner in my favor. These are the circumstances:

The Duc de Frioul met me one morning in His Majesty's apartment, and asked in a very brusque tone (for he was extremely hasty) if I had had the service of the open carriage made ready. I answered with much respect, that this service was always ready. Three times the Duke repeated the question, raising his voice higher each time, and three times I made the same reply with the same respect. "Eh, f—," he said at last, "so you don't understand?" "That happens, apparently, Monseigneur, because Your Excellency explains himself badly." Then he spoke to me about a new carriage which had arrived from Paris that very day, and which I knew nothing about. I was about to reply to His Excellency, but without being willing to listen to me the grand marshal went out, shouting, swearing, and apostrophizing me in terms to which I was not at all accustomed. I followed him as far as his apartment in order to have an explanation, but on reaching his door he entered it alone, and slammed it rudely in my face.

Nevertheless, I went in a few minutes later, but His Excellency had forbidden his valet de chambre to introduce me, saying that he had nothing to tell, and nothing to hear from me.

Unaccustomed to such freaks, I went, almost, beside myself, into the Emperor's chamber. When His Majesty entered, I was still so moved that my face was wet with tears. His Majesty wished to know what was the matter, and I recounted the quarrel just thrust upon me by the grand marshal.

"You are a baby," said the Emperor to me; "calm yourself and have the grand marshal told that I wish to speak to him."

His Excellency lost no time in complying with the Emperor's invitation, and it was I who announced him. "See here," said the Emperor, pointing to me, "look at the state you have put this poor fellow in. What had he done to be treated like that?" The grand marshal bowed without replying, and with a rather dissatisfied air. The Emperor went on by calling his attention to the fact that he should have given me his orders more clearly, and that a man was excusable for not obeying such as are unintelligibly given. Then, turning to me, His Majesty said: "Monsieur Constant, be sure that will never occur again."

This simple fact gives the answer to many false estimates that have been formed of the Emperor's character. Doubtless there was an immense distance between the grand marshal of the palace and a simple valet de chambre of His Majesty, and yet the marshal was reproved for a wrong done to the valet de chambre. The Emperor was profoundly impartial in the administration of his domestic justice; never was the interior of any palace better governed than his own, because there was really no master there except himself.

The grand marshal bore a grudge against me for some time, but, as I have already said, he was an excellent man; his bad humor soon evaporated, and so thoroughly that, on our return to Paris, he asked me to be his proxy at the baptismal font for a child of my father-in-law, who had asked him to be its godfather; the godmother was the Empress Josephine, who kindly selected my wife to represent her. The Duc de Frioul did things with as much nobility and grandeur as good grace. After that time—and I love to do this justice to his memory—he eagerly seized every opportunity of being useful to me, and of making me forget the chagrin his vehemence had caused me.

I fell ill at Valladolid with a rather violent fever, some days before His Majesty's departure. On the day set for it, I was at the height of my sickness, and the Emperor, fearing lest the journey might prevent or at least retard my recovery, forbade me to be told, and set off without me, recommending the persons with whom he left me at Valladolid to be careful of my health. When they found me somewhat easy, they told me that His Majesty had departed; I was unable to contain myself longer, and in spite of all the doctor could say, of my own weakness, and everything else, I insisted on being put into a carriage, and off I started. It was well I did; for hardly had I left Valladolid two leagues behind me when I found myself better and the fever left me. I arrived in Paris five or six days after the Emperor, at the moment when His Majesty had just appointed Count de Montesquiou grand chamberlain, replacing Prince de Talleyrand, whom I met that very day, and who did not seem to me in the least affected by this disgrace; possibly he was consoled for it by the dignity of vice-grand elector, which had been conferred on him in exchange.