‘I need not remind you of the results of that action; the Danes covered themselves with glory, but the slaughter was terrible. More than six thousand men perished in it. The city was burning in ever so many places. Burghers, soldiers, students harnessed themselves to the pumps, carried barrels of water, and unsuccessfully tried to extinguish the flames. Finally, Nelson, to stop the bloodshed, and to prevent the wholesale destruction of Copenhagen, sent a parlementaire to the prince royal.
‘The prince promptly sent his reply, and at once the sanguinary drama, which had the port and the city as its locale, ceased. Nelson came on shore, and repaired to the palace between two lines of an exasperated populace. Calm and proud, he walked along as if he were still on his own battleship. Following in his footsteps, I managed to elbow my way through the crowd, and succeeded in getting inside the private apartments. The prince royal took Nelson to his father, whose mental state, however, prevented him from knowing and from appreciating the disasters of the capital.
‘There was no alternative but to accept the conditions imposed by England. The offensive and defensive treaty between Denmark, Sweden, and Russia was rescinded. The prince royal showed himself as noble and dignified during the conferences as he had shown himself courageous and resourceful during the battle.
‘Since then Frederick has ascended the throne, and though, by the side of the vast kingdoms that have sprung up, Denmark can scarcely claim to be more than a magnificent, lordly domain, enhanced by a royal crown, all these various events have not impaired the excellent prince’s memory. You noticed for yourself how he remembered an apparently frivolous circumstance, but one which remains indelible in my mind.’
CHAPTER XV
Religious Ceremony for the Anniversary of the Death of Louis XVI.—Reception at Talleyrand’s—Discussion on the Subject of Saxony and Poland—The Order of the Day of the Grand-Duke Constantine—A Factum of Pozzo di Borgo—A Sleighing-Party—Entertainment and Fête at Schönbrunn—Prince Eugène—Recollections of Queen Hortense—The Empress Marie-Louise at the Valley of St. Helena—Second Sleighing-Party—A Funeral.
An important ceremony put a stop to all these entertainments. Twenty-two years had gone by since the ill-fated Louis XVI. lost his head on the scaffold, and his memory had not as yet received the expiation of a solemn and public mourning. At the moment when all those kings were working in unison for the pacification of Europe, they could scarcely refrain from protesting by a ceremonious manifestation against a fact which, causing all their thrones to shake on their bases, seems to have been virtually the signal of all these disastrous wars. Consequently, when Talleyrand, as the head of the French Legation, invited the consent of the Austrian government to a memorial service on the anniversary of the fatal twenty-first of January, his request was granted with a kind of melancholy zeal. Nay, more, Emperor Francis made a point of having the service celebrated in the Cathedral of St. Stephen, so that it might be marked by extraordinary pomp, and that its expenses should devolve upon the imperial treasury.
MM. Isabey and Moreau were entrusted with the plans and preparations for the ceremony. In accordance with the emperor’s wish, the former displayed the greatest magnificence, and that funereal pomp inseparable from the obsequies of kings. In the centre of the old Basilica there stood a baldachin sixty feet high, and ornamented with all the insignia of royalty. Four colossal statues, placed at the four corners of a cenotaph, represented respectively France, dissolved in tears; Europe, contributing its meed of regret; Hope, guiding the soul of the virtuous monarch to the abode of everlasting bliss; and Religion, holding in her hand that last will, the sublime model of charity and pardon. The nave of the cathedral was entirely covered with one immense hanging of black, richly embroidered with silver. From each pillar was suspended the scutcheon of the House of France. Numberless wax candles and tapers shed a dazzling light across those sombre walls, closed to the orb of day.