On the very day when the remains of the Marshal were translated from the church of the Invalides to the Panthéon I was sent from Saint-Cloud to Paris on a private message from the Emperor. I had still a few moments of leisure after my commission was executed, and I employed them in going to see this doleful ceremony and saying a last adieu to the brave warrior whose death I had witnessed. At noon, all the civil and military authorities repaired to the hotel. The body was transferred from the dome into the church, under a catafalque in the shape of a great Egyptian pyramid borne on a raised platform, opened by four large arches, the supports of which were garlanded with laurels interlaced with cypress. At the corners were statues in the attitude of grief, representing Force, Justice, Prudence, and Temperance, the characteristic virtues of heroes. This pyramid was terminated by a cinerary urn, surrounded by a fiery crown. On the sides of the pyramid were the armorial bearings of the Duke, and medallions recalling the most memorable deeds of his life, upheld by weeping genii. Under the obelisk was placed the sarcophagus containing his body. At the angles were trophies composed of flags taken from different enemies. Silver candlesticks, in great profusion, were fixed on the steps which served as a platform for this monument. The oak altar, replaced where it had been before the Revolution, was double, and had a double tabernacle. On the tabernacle doors were the tables of the Law; it was surmounted by a great cross, on the transverse arms of which a winding sheet was suspended. At the corners of the altar were the statues of Saint Louis and Saint Napoleon. Four large candelabra were placed on pedestals at the angles of the steps. The pavement of the choir and that of the nave were covered with a mourning carpet. The pulpit, draped in black, and decorated with the imperial eagle, from which the Marshal's funeral oration was delivered, was placed on the left, and in front of the catafalque; on the right was an ebony seat, decorated with the imperial arms, bees, stars, galleons, fringes, and other ornaments in silver-plate. It was intended for the prince archchancellor of the Empire, who presided at the ceremony. Some steps had been raised in the arches of the side aisles, corresponding to the tribunes which were above. In front of these steps were seats and benches for the civil and military authorities, the cardinals, archbishops, bishops, etc. The arms, decorations, baton, and laurel crown of the Marshal lay on his coffin.

The whole nave and the back of the side aisles were hung with black with white borders; so were the windows. On these draperies were displayed the baton and monogram of the Marshal.

The organ was hidden by vast hangings which did not impede the production of its mournful sounds. Eighteen sepulchral lamps of silver were suspended, by chains of the same metal, from lances terminating in banners taken from the enemy.

On the pilasters of the nave were fixed trophies of arms, composed of flags taken in the different battles in which the Marshal had taken part.

The altar railing, on the side next the Esplanade, was hung with mourning; above it were the arms of the Duke, kept in place by two Fames, holding palms of victory; above might be read the inscription: NAPOLEON to the memory of the Duc de Montebello, who died gloriously on the field of Essling, May 22, 1809.

The conservatory of music executed a mass made up of selections from the finest of Mozart's sacred compositions. After the ceremony, the body was borne to the door of the church and placed upon the funeral car, which was adorned with laurels and four sheaves of flags taken from the enemy in the battles in which the Marshal had been engaged, and by the troops of his army corps. It was preceded by a military and religious procession, and followed by one of glory and honor. The military cortège was made up of detachments of all arms,— cavalry, light infantry and the line, horse and foot artillery, followed by cannons, artillery wagons, sappers and miners, the whole preceded by drums, trumpets, bands, etc.; the general staff, with the Marshal Prince of Wagram at its head, comprising all the general officers and the staff of the division and the place.

The religious procession included children and old men from the asylums, the clergy of all the parishes and of the Metropolitan Church of Paris, with crosses and banners, chanters and religious music, and the chaplain of His Majesty with the assistants. The car which bore the Marshal's body followed immediately behind it. The Marshal Duc de Conegliano, Count Serrurier, the Duc d'Istrie, and Prince d'Eckmuhl held the corners of the pall. On either side of the car, two aides-de-camp of the Marshal carried two standards. On the coffin were fastened the Marshal's baton and the decorations of the Duc de Montebello.

After the car came the mourners and the cortege of honor; the empty carriage of the Marshal with two of his aides on horseback at the doors, four mourning carriages intended for the Marshal's family, the carriages of princes, great dignitaries, ministers, marshals, colonel-generals, and chief inspectors. A detachment of cavalry, preceded by trumpets and mounted musicians, followed the carriages and closed the procession. A band accompanied the chants, the bells of all the churches rang, and thirteen volleys of cannon were fired at intervals.

On arriving at the entrance of the subterranean church of Sainte Geneviève, the body was lifted down by grenadiers who had been decorated and wounded in the same battles as the Marshal. His Majesty's chaplain remitted it to the arch-priest. Prince d'Eckmuhl addressed to the Duc de Montebello the regrets of the army, and the Prince Archchancellor deposited on the coffin the medal destined to perpetuate the memory of these funeral honors, of the warrior who had received them, and of the services by which they had been deserved. Then the crowd slipped away by degrees until none remained in the temple but some former servitors of the Marshal, who honored his memory by the tears they shed in silence as much and more than did this public mourning and these imposing ceremonies. They recognized me, for we had been together in campaign. I remained with them for some time, and we left the Panthéon together.

During my short excursion to Paris, Their Majesties had left Saint-Cloud for Rambouillet. I set off to rejoin them with the equipages of the Marshal Prince de Neufchâtel, who had momentarily absented himself from court to be present at the obsequies of the brave Duc de Montebello.
 

If my memory does not betray me, it was on arriving at Rambouillet that I learned the details of a duel fought that very day between two of His Majesty's pages. I do not recollect the cause of their quarrel, but although frivolous enough in the beginning, it had become very serious on account of the acts of violence it had occasioned. It was a dispute of schoolboys, but these schoolboys wore swords and regarded themselves, not without reason, as more than three-fourths soldiers; hence it was decided that they should fight. To do so, two things were essential,—time and secrecy. As to their time, it was employed almost uninterruptedly from four or five o'clock in the morning until nine in the evening. Secrecy was not observed.

M. d'Assigny, a man of rare merit and perfect virtue, was then under-governor of the pages, and his cares, his kindness, and his justice had endeared him to his pupils. Wishing to avert a misfortune, he summoned the two adversaries to his presence; but these youths, destined to the army, could not listen to any reparation short of a duel. M. d'Assigny had too much sense to attempt to preach the opposite view, he would not have been listened to; but he offered his services as witness, was accepted by the young men, and asked to select the weapons. He chose the pistol, and rendezvous was given for the next morning at a very early hour. Everything was arranged in the way customary in this sort of affairs. One of the pages fired first and missed his adversary; the other discharged his weapon in the air. At once they rushed into each other's arms, and M. d'Assigny seized the occasion to give them a truly paternal reprimand. As for the rest, the worthy under-governor not merely kept their secret, but his own. The pistols, loaded by him, contained only cork bullets, but the young men never knew it.

A number of persons were awaiting with curiosity the coming of the 25th of August, the feast of the patron saint of Her Majesty the Empress. They thought that, through fear of awakening the souvenirs of the Royalists, the Emperor would defer solemnizing it until some other period of the year, which he could easily have done by fêting his august spouse under the name of Marie. But the Emperor was not deterred by such fears. It is even probable that he was the only person in the château to whom the idea did not occur. Sure of his power and of the hopes then built upon him by the French nation, he very well knew that he had nothing to dread from exiled princes or a party which seemed dead beyond the hope of resurrection. I have since heard it said, and very seriously, that His Majesty had done wrong in keeping the feast of Saint Louis, that it had brought him bad luck, etc.; but these prognostics, thought of after the event, did not at the time occupy the mind of anybody, and the day of Saint Louis was celebrated in honor of the Empress Marie-Louise with extraordinary pomp and rejoicings.

A few days afterward, Their Majesties reviewed in the Bois de Boulogne the regiments of the Dutch imperial guard, which the Emperor had recently ordered to Paris. To celebrate their happy arrival, the Emperor had ordered casks of wine, staved in at one end, to be placed at intervals in the alleys of the wood, where every soldier might drink at discretion. This imperial munificence had sorry results which might have become fatal. The Dutch soldiers, more accustomed to strong beer than to wine, but nevertheless very greedy for the latter drink, used it inordinately, and were excited by it to a very disquieting degree. They began at first by disputes either among themselves or with curious observers who came too near. Then a storm having come up suddenly, and the excursionists from Saint-Cloud and the environs making haste to get back to Paris by crossing the Bois de Boulogne, the Hollanders, in a state of almost complete intoxication, began beating up the wood, arresting every woman who made her appearance, and treating the men by whom they were usually accompanied very rudely. In a moment the whole wood was resounding with shrieks of terror, vociferations, oaths, and struggles without number. Several frightened people retreated as far as Saint-Cloud, where the Emperor was. No sooner was he informed of this disorder than he despatched patrol after patrol to bring the Hollanders to reason. His Majesty was in great wrath, and said: "Did any one ever see the like of these thickheads? There they are, all upset by a couple of glasses of wine!" In spite of this sort of pleasantry, the Emperor was not without anxiety. He came to the park gate, opposite the bridge, and gave advice to the officers and soldiers who were to attempt the restoration of order. Unfortunately, the night was so far advanced that they could not make out just where they ought to go, and God knows how the affair would have terminated if the officer of one of the patrols had not been inspired with the happy thought of exclaiming: "The Emperor! Here is the Emperor!" His men took up the cry, shouting: "Here is the Emperor!" as they assaulted the most riotous of the Hollanders. And so great was the terror inspired in these foreign soldiers by the mere name of His Majesty, that thousands of armed men, drunk and furious, dispersed before that alone, and regained their quarters as quickly and as secretly as they could. Several of them were arrested and severely punished.

I have already said that the Emperor occupied himself rather frequently with the toilet of the Empress, and even with that of her ladies. As a rule, he liked to see all those who surrounded him dressed well, and even richly. Nevertheless, he gave an order about this time the wisdom of which I admired. He and Her Majesty the Empress were to be sponsors one day for the infants of some of his great officers, and foreseeing that the parents would be certain to try and outdo each other in magnificent robes for their newly born children, the Emperor decreed that the babies to be baptized should all wear long white linen robes. This prudent measure spared both the purses and the self-love of the parents. I noticed during this ceremony that the Emperor found some difficulty in paying the attention required for answering the questions put by the officiating priest. He was usually somewhat preoccupied during the offices of the Church, although they were not long, never lasting more than twelve or fifteen minutes, and yet I have been assured that His Majesty had asked if they could not be recited in still less time. He gnawed his nails, took snuff more frequently than common, and was constantly looking around him, while a prince of the Church was giving himself the useless trouble of turning the leaves of His Majesty's book and finding his places for him.

At the end of the baptismal ceremony of which I have just been speaking, the Emperor rubbed his hands and said to some of the intimate friends surrounding him: "Before long, gentlemen, I hope we shall have another baby to baptize." These words of His Majesty were received with all the pleasure they were calculated to inspire. However, Her Majesty's pregnancy had been talked about for some time at the château. It had not occurred immediately after her marriage, and the Emperor had been disturbed about it. His first wife had not been able to give him a child, and that fact had been the chief cause of the divorce; was a similar misfortune to be expected on the part of Marie-Louise? For the Emperor had no reason to suspect himself; on the contrary, he had twice already had the honors of paternity. These ideas occasionally made him rather gloomy, and he often consulted his physicians. These gentlemen applied themselves to searching out the cause of the delay which threatened to balk the Emperor's most ardent wishes, and discovered that the Empress took too many baths. The Emperor spoke to her about it; she abated their frequency, and we were soon apprised of the happy result. The private garden of Fontainebleau, where we were then, was under my windows, and I several times saw the Empress walking there, supported by her women, and suffering from those fits of nausea which made every one else rejoice.