No. 2
May 6th.—On May 1st Napoleon was still at Braunau, waiting for news from Davoust. Travelling by night at his usual speed he reached Lambach at noon on May 2nd, and Wels on the 3rd. The next morning he heard Massena’s cannon at Ebersberg, but reaches the field at the fall of night—too late to save the heavy cost of Massena’s frontal attack. The French lost at least 1500 killed and wounded; the Austrians (under Hiller) the same number killed and 7000 prisoners. Pelet defends Massena, and quotes the bulletin of May 4th (omitted from the Correspondence): “It is one of the finest feats of arms of which history can preserve the memory! The traveller will stop and say, ‘It is here, it is here, in these superb positions, that an army of 35,000 Austrians was routed by two French divisions’” (Pelet, ii. 225). Lejeune, and most writers, blame Massena, referring to the Emperor’s letter of May 1st in Pelet’s Appendix (vol. ii.), but not in the Correspondence.
Between April 17th and May 6th there is no letter to Josephine preserved, but plenty to Eugène, and all severe—not so much for incapacity as for not keeping the Emperor advised of what was really happening. On May 6th he had received no news for over a week.
The ball that touched me—i.e. at Ratisbon. This was the second time Napoleon had been wounded in battle—the first time by an English bayonet at Toulon. On the present occasion (April 23rd) Méneval seems to be the best authority: “Napoleon was seated on a spot from which he could see the attack on the town of Ratisbon. He was beating the ground with his riding-whip,74 when a bullet, supposed to have been fired from a Tyrolean carbine, struck him on the big toe (Marbot says ‘right ankle,’ which is correct). The news of his wound spread rapidly75 from file to file, and he was forced to mount on horseback to show himself to his troops. Although his boot had not been cut the contusion was a very painful one,” and in the first house he went to for a moment’s rest, he fainted. The next day, however, he saw the wounded and reviewed his troops as usual, and Lejeune has preserved a highly characteristic story, somewhat similar to an experience of the Great Frederick’s: “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 the 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!’”