On the 7th of September, the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and the Emperor exclaimed, “It is the sun of Austerlitz!” These words of the Emperor were reported to the army, and repeated by them amid great enthusiasm.  The drums were beaten, and the order of the day was read as follows: 

Soldiers,—­Behold the battle you have so long desired!  Henceforth that victory depends on you which is so necessary to us, since it will furnish us abundant provisions, good winter quarters, and a prompt return to our native land.  Conduct yourselves as at Austerlitz, at Friedland, at Witepsk, at Smolensk, and let the most remote posterity refer with pride to your conduct on this day; let it be said of you, “He took part in the great battle under the walls of Moscow.”

The army replied by reiterated acclamations.  The Emperor, a few hours before the battle, had dictated this proclamation, and it was read in the morning to the soldiers.  Napoleon was then on the heights of Borodino; and when the enthusiastic cries of the army struck his ear, he was standing with folded arms, the sun shining full in his eyes, reflected from the French and Russian bayonets.  He smiled, then became more serious until the affair was terminated.

On that day the portrait of the King of Rome was brought to Napoleon.  He needed some gentle emotion to divert his mind from this state of anxious suspense.  He held this portrait long on his knees, contemplating it with delight, and said that it was the most agreeable surprise he had ever received, and repeated several times in a low tone, “My good Louise!  This is a charming attention!” On the Emperor’s countenance there rested an expression of happiness difficult to describe, though the first emotions excited were calm and even melancholy.  “The dear child,” was all that he said.  But he experienced all the pride of a father and an Emperor when by his orders officers, and even soldiers, of the old guard came to see the King of Rome.  The portrait was placed on exhibition in front of the tent; and it was inexpressibly touching to see these old soldiers uncover themselves with respect before this image, in which they sought to find some of the features of Napoleon.  The Emperor had at this moment the expansive joy of a father who knows well that next to him his son has no better friends than his old companions in endurance and glory.

At four o’clock in the morning, that is to say one hour before the battle opened, Napoleon felt a great exhaustion in his whole person, and had a slight chill, without fever, however, and threw himself on his bed.  Nevertheless, he was not as ill as M. de Segur states.  He had had for some time a severe cold that he had somewhat neglected, and which was so much increased by the fatigue of this memorable day that he lost his voice almost entirely.  He treated this with the soldier’s prescription, and drank light punch during the whole night, which he spent working in his cabinet without being able to speak.  This inconvenience lasted two days; but on the 9th he was well, and his hoarseness almost gone.