These five or six days of silence were taken up by the opening of hostilities on the road from Stuttgart to Ulm, the crossing of the Danube, and the occupation of Augsburg. From this city Napoleon wrote to Josephine October 10: "I spent last night with the former Elector of Trèves, who has comfortable quarters. I have been on the move for a week. The campaign opens with noteworthy successes. I am very well though it rains nearly every day. Things have moved very quickly. I have sent to France four thousand prisoners, eight flags, and have captured fourteen cannon. Good by, my dear; I kiss you." Two days later the French army entered Munich in triumph, the Austrians having been driven out of Bavaria. The Emperor wrote to the Empress, October 12: "My army has entered Munich. The enemy is partly on the other side of the Inn; the other army of sixty thousand men I have blockaded on the Iller between Ulm and Memmingen. The enemy is lost, has completely lost its head, and everything promises the luckiest, shortest, and most brilliant campaign ever known. I leave in an hour for Burgau on the Iller. I am well: the weather is frightful. It rains so that I have to change my clothes twice a day. I love you."
The first successes of the campaign caused great excitement in Paris, as is shown by the letters of Madame de Rémusat, no great lover of military glory, to her husband, who had accompanied the Empress to Strassburg; every day this lady would jot down what had happened, and her interesting correspondence brings the period vividly before us. October 12, she wrote, the absence of the Empress leaving her time heavy on her hands: "How gloomy and ill we are in this odious Paris! Please tell M. de Talleyrand that it is really something pitiable. Not even a word of gossip! In short, we are as bored as we are virtuous. I don't know which is the cause and which the effect, but I do know that I am horribly bored. The solitude of this great city is really remarkable; the theatres are empty; I hardly ever go to them."
In two days there was a complete change. Paris woke up as if to a joyous trumpet-call, and Madame de Rémusat was full of happiness: "My dear, what good news!" she wrote October 14, "… This morning the cannon announced the victory to the city of Paris; it produced a great effect. Every one was inquiring about it in the street, and congratulating himself; in short, I send the Empress word, the Parisians were French. I have already written twenty notes, and received all the visits of congratulation…. But what a great victory! How proud I am of being a Frenchwoman! I couldn't sleep for joy. Perhaps by this time you have heard of others, and when we are rejoicing over the first victory, you have forgotten it with another. May Heaven continue to protect this noble army and its glorious leader!" This enthusiastic letter ends with these somewhat harsh criticising of the Parisians: "This victory was necessary, for these sad Parisians had begun to complain. The emptiness of Paris, its quiet, the lack of money which continues to make itself felt, gave to the malevolent a good opportunity to excite dissatisfaction, and they did their best to spread it. I was wondering this very morning why in a nation so devoid of national feeling there should be in the army such unity of action and thought. It seems to me that honor has a good deal to do with this difference, and that it takes the place of public spirit in many who in ordinary times are too happy, too rich, and too careless to care for anything beyond their own belongings."
Napoleon went from one victory to another, October 18, just before the capitulation of Ulm, he wrote to Josephine from Elchingen: "I have been more tired than I should have been; for a week getting wet through every day, and cold feet, have done me a little harm, but staying in to-day has rested me. I have carried out my plan and have destroyed the Austrian army by simple marches. I have taken sixty thousand prisoners, one hundred and twenty cannon, more than ninety flags, and more than thirty generals. I am going to attack the Russians; they are lost. I am satisfied with my army. I have lost only fifteen hundred men, and two-thirds of these are but slightly wounded. Good by. Remember me to every one. Prince Charles is coming to cover Vienna. I think Masséna ought to be at Vienna at this time. As soon as I am easy about Italy I shall make Eugene fight. My love to Hortense."
The capitulation of Ulm was arranged by Napoleon with Prince Lichtenstein, Major-General of the Austrian army. A heavy rain fell without cessation, and the prisoners were amazed to see the Emperor, who had not taken off his boots for a week, wet through, covered with mud, and more tired than the humblest drummer. When some one spoke of it, he said to Prince Lichtenstein: "Your Emperor wanted to remind me that I was a soldier. I hope he will acknowledge that the throne and the Imperial purple have not made me forget my old trade." October 21, the day after the capitulation, Napoleon wrote to Josephine: "I am very well, my dear. I leave at once for Augsburg. I have made an army of thirty-three thousand men surrender. I have taken from sixty to seventy thousand prisoners, more than ninety flags, and more than two hundred cannon. In the military annals there is no such defeat. Keep well. I am a little worried. For three days the weather has been pleasant. The first column of prisoners starts for France to-day. Each column contains six thousand men." Never had war been fought with such art. An army of eighty-five thousand men had been destroyed almost without firing a gun; its adversaries had lost only three thousand men. After this great victory Napoleon's soldiers said, "The Emperor beat the enemy with our legs, not with our bayonets."
These chronicles of war have a sad side even when they commemorate the most brilliant victories. Even while he counts the trophies the historian cannot avoid melancholy reflections. What capitulations awaited France sixty-five years after this capitulation of Ulm! But in this intoxication of victory, people have eyes only for their success. Were they reasonable, they would then reflect on the calamities of war. Hortense, who was as kind as her mother, Josephine, had this wisdom and pity. She said, "When I read these accounts I am surprised to find myself ready to weep even when I am happy at the victories." At the time Madame de Rémusat wrote to her husband: "Poor creatures that we are, how restless we are on this sandhill, and too often only to hasten our end! A good subject for the philosopher is this glory, with which we adorn our eagerness in killing one another." The triumphal music should not drown the sobs and cries of the mothers; we should think of the dead and wounded. But nations are like individuals: they never reflect.
Napoleon pushed on the war with real delight. He felt about war as a good workman feels about his work, as a great artist about his art. To war it was that he owed his power and glory. Without it, he said, he would have been nothing; by it, he was everything. Hence he felt for it not merely love, but gratitude; loving it both by instinct and calculation. He preferred the bivouac to the Tuileries. Just as the snipe-shooter prefers a marsh to a drawing-room, he was more at home under a tent than in a palace. To men who like the battle-field, war is the most intense of pleasures. They love it as the gamester loves play, with a real frenzy. They defeat the enemy, not merely without feeling, but with a fierce joy, as if it were their prey. They feel the same emotions as the Romans in a circus, or the Spaniards at a bull-fight. The rattle of drums, the blare of trumpets, shouts of soldiers, are what they hear; their ears are deaf to the cries of the wounded and dying. The varying chances of the combat, the uncertainties of fear and hope produce in them emotions that they prefer to all others, however poetic and charming. It is with a sort of intoxication that they inhale the smell of gunpowder, perhaps even that of blood. A hotly contested victory is more agreeable to them than one too easily gained. Fortune is, in their eyes, a difficult mistress, whose favors seem the dearer, the harder they are of attainment. What a satisfaction for a proud man to be absolute commander of an army which, before the fight, shouts like the ancient gladiators: Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant! "Hail, Caesar, those about to die salute you!" an army in which even dying men shout applause, with their last breath, to their sovereign, their idol! And yet how petty is all this glory! Bossuet was right when he said: "What could you find on earth strong and dignified enough to bear the name of power? Open your eyes, pierce the dusk. All the power in the world can but take a man's life: is it then such a great thing to shorten by a few moments a life which is already hastening to its end?"
Josephine did not in the least share her husband's warlike tastes. Gentle, kindly, affectionate, full of pity for human woes, she would have liked to reconcile all parties, all nations,—to have universal peace. This woman, who had all the graces and charms of her sex, never inspired Napoleon with ambitious or haughty thoughts. While the war lasted, she was anxious, unhappy; waiting anxiously with bated breath for news, scarcely living.
Napoleon, wrote to her from Augsburg, October 28: "The last two nights have rested me completely, and I leave for Munich to-morrow; I am summoning to me M. de Talleyrand and M. Maret; I shall see them for a short time, and then leave for the Inn, where I mean to attack Austria in its hereditary states. I should have been glad to see you, but don't expect me to summon you unless there should be an armistice, or we should go into winter quarters. Good by, my dear; a thousand kisses. Remember me to all the ladies." From Munich the Emperor wrote the following letter, dated October 27; "I have received your letter from Lamarois. I am sorry to see that you have been over-anxious. I have heard many details of your affection for me, but you should have more strength, and confidence. Besides, I had told you I should not write for six days. To-morrow I expect the Elector. At noon I start to strengthen my movement on the Inn. My health is very fair. You mustn't think of crossing the Rhine in less than two or three weeks. You must be cheerful, and amuse yourself in the hope of our meeting before the end of the month (Brumaire). I am advancing on the Russian army. In a few days I shall have crossed the Inn. Good by, my dear; much love to Hortense, to Eugene, and to the two Napoleons. Keep the wedding present for some time yet. Yesterday I gave a concert to the ladies of this court. The leader is a worthy man. I have shot pheasants with the Elector; you see I am not worn out. M. de Talleyrand has come." Again, from Haag, November 3, 1805: "I am advancing rapidly; the weather is very cold; the snow is a foot deep. This is not pleasant. Fortunately, we have an abundance of wood; we are continually in the forests. I am fairly well. Everything goes on satisfactorily; the enemy has more cause for anxiety than I. I am eager to hear from you, and to know that your mind is easy. Good by, my dear; I am going to bed."
Napoleon continued his operations with startling rapidity. He wrote to Josephine November 5: "I am at Linz. The weather is fine. We are within twenty-eight leagues of Vienna. The Russians are retreating without making a stand. The house of Austria is much embarrassed; all the belongings of the court have been removed from Vienna. You will probably have some news in five or six days. I am very anxious to see you. My health is good." The Emperor of Austria, compelled to leave Vienna, had sought refuge at Brunn, where he joined the Czar and the second Russian army; and Napoleon entered the capital whence the Emperor Francis had fled. He wrote to Josephine November 15: "I have been for two days in Vienna, a little tired. I have not yet seen the city by daylight, but have only passed through it by night. To-morrow I receive the authorities. Almost all my troops are beyond the Danube in pursuit of the Russians. Good by, dear Josephine; as soon as possible I shall arrange for you to come. I send much love." The next day he wrote again to the Empress from Vienna: "I am writing to M. de Narville to arrange for you to go to Baden, thence to Stuttgart, and thence to Munich. At Stuttgart you will give the present to the Princess Paul. Fifteen or twenty thousand francs will be enough for it; the rest will be enough for a present to the daughter of the Elector of Bavaria at Munich. All that you heard from Madame de Sérent is definitely arranged. Bring presents for the ladies and officers in waiting on you. Be pleasant, but receive all their homages; they owe you everything, and you owe them nothing, except in the way of politeness. The Electress of Würtemberg is a daughter of the King of England; you should treat her well, and especially without affectation. I shall be glad to see you as soon as business will permit. I am leaving for the front. The weather is admirable; there is much snow, but everything is in good condition. Good by, my dear one." On the receipt of this letter, Josephine, who was most anxious to see her husband, hastened away from Strassburg to go to Munich through Baden and Würtemberg. At the same time Napoleon set off to meet the Austrian and Russian armies, commanded by their respective Emperors, in Moravia.